The Contract

“Roll down your goddamn window if you’re going to smoke,” Jack said with force, “better yet, fucking quit,” he snarled.

“Sorry Jack, I wasn’t thinking,” mumbled Tony, rolling down the passenger window of the car and flicking his nearly full cigarette out. The night was cool but not chill.

Tony looked at Jack, Jack ‘the Hammer’ Dalton people in the outfit called him. Tough as fucking nails. 6’3” covered in tats and built for destruction. There were several rumors as to how he got the nickname Hammer. People say he got the name on account of the fact one time he took on three outfit enforcers and beat the living crap out of them then took a sledge hammer to their car. Others said it was because the time the cops grabbed him when Wells Fargo armored car job went bad. Cops interrogated him for two days, they even took a hammer to his feet to get him to rat, but Jack never squealed, kept his trap shut didn’t even snitch on the pigs that beat him. Did two years in the joint on trumped up shit, never said a word. Tough as fucking nails and solid as a fucking rock.

Jack didn’t like Tony, amateur schmuck, flunky, a pair of eyes for the outfit to watch over him. Piece of shit as far as Jack was concerned. Approaching forty, mass settling around his gut. Probably one cannoli away from a heart attack. Worse though, Tony liked to hurt people smaller than himself, girls especially, sadistic bully. Jack wasn’t over fond of bullies. Even though this was a freelance contract, dragging this lazy lump along was one of the stipulated conditions of the contract on account the last outfit attempt resulted in two missing people, no word, no trace, nothing. Two outfit snipes, just gone. Jack smiled, he knew why they called him. Two reasons, one, he was sure to get the job done, and two, if he didn’t, he was a freelancer anyway, no big loss. The money was big for such a cinch job so he took it.

“We getting close?” Tony asked, nibbling at his thumb nail.

Jack favored him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ stare, then looked back to the road as the last tendrils of dusk started to dwindle. He clicked on the lights and began to climb the winding road up into the Hills overlooking the city. Snob heights they called it, multi-million dollar homes dotted the landscape, a sanctuary for the rich and famous.

Twenty-five minutes later he slowed the car as they passed the gates to the estate on the contract.

“This the place?” asked Tony

“Shut up,” replied Jack. Driving a short distance further down the way, he pulled off the road and backed the car in amongst cover near some trees. This vantage provided a fairly clear view of the gate.

“Your job is sit here and watch that gate, that’s it. You see anyone going in, you text me, get your phone out, you got bars?”

Tony pulled out his cell phone, “I got like one bar, shitty reception up here.”

“One is plenty. What’s your job?

“Make sure no one goes in,” replied Tony.

Jack curled a fist in front of Tony’s thick face, “No, your job is to fucking text me if someone goes in and have the car ready when I come out. This shouldn’t take no more than half an hour. Got it?”

“What if you ain’t back in half an hour?” asked Tony, shrinking back from the fist.

“If I’m not back in an hour, means I pulled a Tommy T,” answered Jack. Everybody knew what had happened to Tommy T. Stupid idiot fell off the fence he was climbing on the way into a job and broke his leg, dumb bastard laid there till morning, to make matters worse, when the cops finally showed up, they hung a beating on him that left him comatose for three days. “I’m not back, come find me because something went sideways.”

Tony nodded but said nothing, while he didn’t much like Jack, he certainly feared the Hammer.

Getting out, Jack did a quick inventory check. Satisfied, he pulled the balaclava down over his face. With an easy lope he crossed the road and approached the wall bordering the estate. The wall was only eight feet high, crowned with no anti-intrusion measures, a vanity wall as opposed to a security wall and he scaled it easily and dropped to the lawn on the other side. The grounds sprawled before. Situated as it was, the estate grounds sloped away with a fantastic view of the city below. Off to the right was a full size tennis court, up ahead the house proper, to the left a guest house. Fancy. Contract info said no security dogs, no patrols, but identified the location of ten security cameras.

Following the pre-planned entry route he mapped out earlier, he slid passed the cameras undetected, a self-satisfied smile hidden under the balaclava, piece of cake. He removed a small LED flashlight from his pocket, turned it on, lifted the bottom of the balaclava up and held it between his teeth. He paused a moment to study the alarm, pretty generic and not too fancy. Brining his utility driver up, he removed the faceplate from the alarm panel, and found the two wires he needed. Clamping an alligator clip over each of the wires, he let the connector dangle while he took his tablet out of the duffel. Plugging the connector into the tablet, the tablet instantly sprang to life, flashing numbers rapidly before spitting out the four digit code needed to de-activate the alarm. Punching in the code, the system beeped three times, then the light on the exposed alarm glowed green. Smiling, he removed his gear and replaced the faceplate. The lock was easy enough to pick, no alarm bells, smooth sailing. The entry way into the grand house opened into a broad room. There were stairs on his left leading to the lower floor of the house. The interior of the house’s upper floor resembled something out of some type of show home magazine. The foyer sprawled into an expansive kitchen with stainless steel appliances polished granite countertops. An island of cabinets separated the kitchen from the dining area. An antique china cabinet decorated the wall in the dining room, beyond a hallway led deeper into the house. To his left opened a spacious room with hand carved leather bound furniture and an imposing marble fireplace. Everywhere he looked revealed some new treasure. He had been in the game long enough to distinguish between the fake crap and the real deal, and this had the genuine feel. Business first he mumbled to himself. Dropping his duffle bag on the kitchen island, he needed to locate and acquire the two articles listed on the contract, an egg sized black stone, and of all things, a hairbrush from the bathroom off the master bedroom. Weird, but the pay was enough for him to overlook the oddity of the request. The stone was easy to find, it was situated on the mantle of the fire place in what he presumed to be some type of den or living room, two ornate golden figurines, each about 10 inches high also adorned the mantle, he grabbed those as well. He smiled to himself, he liked it when things went smooth. Returning to the kitchen he set the stone and statuettes in his duffel and grabbed a small cloth bag. Down the corridor and to the left he found what appeared to be the master bedroom. The place was a veritable treasure trove and he meant to cash in. He emptied the jewelry box on the dresser into his cloth pouch before looking for the brush in the en suite. Walking back down the corridor from the bedroom, he heard a sound. He stopped. It sounded like keys in the lock of the front door. He leaned back against the wall and let out a slow calculated breath controlling his anger. The contract information guaranteed the place would be empty. He clicked off the flashlight and placed it back into his pocket. The breach in information would force him to re-negotiate his rate. Amateur bullshit. Peering around the corner of the wall, he stuffed the jewelry filled cloth bag into his pocket and withdrew the pistol from his shoulder holster. Next he pulled a silencer and slowly threaded it onto the pistol, he waited. He hated it when a supposedly easy job got ugly. First they saddle him with that plug Tony and now the stupid fuck doesn’t even gives him a heads up there was someone coming onto the estate. He and Tony were definitely going to have a conversation when the job was done, the physical kind.

Unexpected company

“No she’s gone for the week,” said a young sounding female voice as the front door opened. Suddenly the area was bathed in light.

“Where did she go?” asked another youthful feminine voice, a sexy southern lilt to her speech. As the door closed. He could hear beeps coming off the alarm pad by the inside of the door. “Shit, I think I just set it, it must’ve been off. Just a sec,” more beeps. “There’s an auction or something in London or Amsterdam she was planning on attending.”

“What about your sister?”

“She went with, after what happened last week mother didn’t want her here alone,” answered the woman who had spoken first.

Closer to where he was concealed, “The place is all ours then, sweet, we can…” the second speaker paused. “There’s a black bag on the counter in the kitchen.”

“What?” Footsteps drawing nearer.

“Look, come see.”

He could hear the sounds of them examining the contents of the duffel. “This is my mother’s stuff,” said the first voice.

“I think we are not alone,” commented the slightly accented voice.

Jack shook his head slowly, cursing mentally. Stepping from around the corner, he leveled the silenced pistol in the direction of the two women he found standing there. The first woman he saw was a blonde, maybe 5’9”, long straight hair pinned back, streaks of bright blue matching the color of her eyes. Dressed in a snug top and black exercise pants, she was absolutely stunning, there was an indescribable quality about her beauty. She appeared to have a long lean body, like something you would expect to see in a Victoria Secret catalog. Ample breasts pressed against the fabric of her top, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the weapon pointed in her direction. The second woman, maybe and inch shorter, stood behind the kitchen island. She too possessed long hair pulled back, hair so dark it was almost midnight. She was no less striking than the blond woman, though she appeared to have a slightly more athletic build. She glared at him with eyes so green they were almost luminescent. She appeared similarly attired in a shirt and black exercise pants. He swallowed hard. He had been with some beautiful women in his time, but nothing he had seen could compare to the two young women standing a few feet away. He guessed them to both be late teens maybe early twenties, but he was not sure.

The dark haired woman spoke first, “What are doing in my mother’s home?” she challenged, nonplussed by the fact she was on the business end of the pistol. Her voice snapped him out of the fog and brought him back to the moment.

“Nobody screams, nobody gets hurt. Hands where I can see them girls. Is there anybody else with you?” he growled, voice low and menacing.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the dark haired woman again, brow furled, lips pursed.

“Be a good little girl and do what you’re told and this will be over shortly,” he instructed.

“Who do you think you are?” demanded the brunette, pointing her left index finger at him.

“Listen sweetheart, this can go two ways, easy, or not so easy,” with his free hand he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handful of zip ties.

“You mean to tie us up?” asked the blonde, caution in her cerulean eyes.

“I am only going to give you this opportunity one time. Empty your pockets of any of my mother’s things and leave now. This is the only time I will be this magnanimous. Fail to do so, all bets are off,” warned the raven haired beauty, a slight tug at the corner of her Cupid’s bow mouth. The blonde raised a hand to her face, it looked to Jack as if she were trying to mask a smile.

“Perhaps you fail to appreciate the situation here doll, this is a gun and it is loaded with a whole lot of hurt. Do as I say and no one needs to get hurt,” he threatened.

“Did you just call her doll?” asked the blonde, eyebrows slight raised.

“Going…” said the brunette

“What? Are the pair of you stupid or something? Blondie, take these ties,” he instructed, motioning her toward him with the pistol.

“I don’t think so,” she replied softly, gently shaking her head.

“Going…” added repeated the brunette.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you both stunned? This is a fucking gun!” he snarled, not only angry at being defied, but because he really did not want to have to hurt these women who were probably no more than teenagers.

“Gone,” said the brunette. “Never say you weren’t afforded the opportunity for this to end some other way.”

“What the fuck? Stuck up cunt. Are you just too stupid to realize you’re staring death in the face? It didn’t have to be this way but I guess we do this the hard way,” he retorted, anger making his voice hard.

“Stuck up cunt? You’re right, it didn’t have to be this way, but this is on you. You are the one who will bear the consequences of what happens from here on out,” replied the brunette, face angry.

“Oh Clare,” said the blonde, letting out a sigh and shaking her head softly.

“You have no idea where you’ve stumbled into, do you?” asked Clare, stabbing her index finger in his direction, the long slender finger ending in a splash a scarlet.

Stepping closer, he pressed the end of the silencer against the side of the blonde woman’s head and held out the zip ties. Standing this close to the blonde he felt a surge of warmth shudder through him, as if proximity to this woman brought him within range of her natural heat.

“You better step away from Angela,” warned the brunette. “Or I promise you, you will regret it!”

“This is all very intense,” whispered the blonde, voice rapid, pouty lips parted and breathing shallow.

“Or what?” countered Jack. While he really had no desire to ventilate Blondie’s skull, he couldn’t understand why these young women were being so defiant.

The Hard Way

He thought he saw some type of flash, like light reflecting off something metal but he couldn’t be sure, everything seemed to happen so fast. It started as a tingling sensation in his chest before rapidly expanding outward and over his limbs. He took a step backward, the world felt like it was going to start spinning. His stomach seemed to twist in on itself, wrenching him violently forward, his vision blurred and he felt as if he were falling forward, as if from a great height. The gun and his gloves fell away from his hands, as his withdrew back into his sleeves. There was a ringing in his ears as everything went black. He didn’t know what to think, though he was still aware, everything was dark. Reaching out, he felt coarse woolen fiber. “What the...” he mumbled, pushing against the cloth.

“That’s that,” he heard the raven haired woman say, voice loud. “Let’s see who we have here,” she added. Where once a man had stood, now there was only a pile of clothes. Moving forward near the pile, she knelt down on floor. Picking up the balaclava, she tossed it a short distance off to the side.

Now the whole world did spin as he felt elevated and then he was weightless, flying in the darkness. Tumbling through the air, he landed in a soft bed of material. Pulling himself free of the fabric, he was stunned by what he saw. Standing in the eye hole of what had been his balaclava, his mouth hung agape at the spectacle before him. He was still inside the same room, but everything had become incredibly enormous. The dark haired woman, now gigantic, was knelt down beside a mountain of clothing and appeared to be picking through it. The blonde, now the height of a twelve story apartment building looked down on the clothing. Already feeling vulnerable, he realized he was naked. Filled with panic and head still swimming he dashed away from the women and toward one of the chairs situated beneath the dining room table and ducked behind it. Heart pounding in his chest.

The dark haired woman paused in sifting through his clothing. Lifting up a glove, she held first one then other by the fingers. “He’s gone,” said Clare, sitting back on her haunches and placing hands on her shapely hips.

“The cap?” asked Angela, pointing at the balaclava near the table.

Clare leaned back, picked it up, looked inside and shook her head. “Nope.”

“I didn’t see him dart out,” added Angela, a perplexed look on her lovely face.

Clare lowered her head and peered around at floor level, but for all intents and purposes, the tiny man had vanished. Sitting back upright, she pulled the wallet out his trousers and removed his driver’s license. “Jack Dalton,” she said aloud. Holding the license up for the blonde woman to see.

Taking the license in her hand, “Ruggedly cute,” she said in her slight drawl, before folding her arms under her perfectly rounded breasts.

“Where are you hiding Mr. Dalton,” asked Clare as she carefully sifted once more through his clothing.

Jack crept further under the table using the legs of the center pedestal as a hiding place. What the fuck is happening. No, no, no, no, he thought. This cannot be real! From his vantage he could see the woman called Clare standing upright, she seemed to be at least a hundred and forty feet tall, if not taller. She picked up the pistol by the silencer and handed it to the blond woman.

Jack looked down at his hands, then his arms and rest of himself and did a self-assessment. Everything seemed to be exactly where it should be, except everything else was gargantuan. He ran in the opposite direction from the women, ducking from chair leg to chair leg until he got out and away from the table and under the china cabinet against a wall. To the best of his calculations he figured he was must be somewhere between two and three inches in height scaled to the furniture in the room. He tried to control his breathing as he combatted his rising fear.

Jack scaled the interior of the foot of the china hutch and sat inside the frame. He could hear the women as they abandoned his clothes and started to search for him.

“Come out Jack, the longer it takes to find you, the worse it will be for you,” called Clare.

Leaning back in his hiding place, he shuddered. How could they have made him so tiny, was he hallucinating?

“Jack, come on out sugar. It’s ok, we just want to talk” purred Angela in her lilted accent, her voice seeming to come from very close to where he was secreted.

Like fuck he thought to himself, holding his breath for fear he might inadvertently give himself away.

A bemused smile on her gorgeous face, Clare looked at Angela, “Crafty little bugger. This little hunt might just be fun.” Angela grinned back.

“It appears as if the cats will have to find the little mouse, poor little mouse,” Clare said loudly, excitement growing as the game progressed. Together the pair began to explore the spacious interior of Clare’s mother’s home. Moving furniture, they moved the dining room table and chairs.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” sang Clare. After a short time, she turned to Angela, “You want some wine?” she asked.

“Sounds good, alcohol and a hunt, recipe for a good night” chuckled Angela.

“There’s some glasses in the hutch,” Clare said.

The sound of footfalls grew closer. From somewhere up above Jack heard one of the glass doors on the cabinet open followed by the clink of glass. The footsteps retreated. It seemed an eternity, but eventually the sounds of searching faded off, after a while he couldn’t tell where they were. WHAT THE FUCK! Jack screamed mentally. This made absolutely no sense at all. Everything was fucked. He needed to escape. What if he escaped, he thought, then what? It’s a half hour drive by car just out of the Hills. At his current height he doubted he could make it out of the house, let alone through a whole new world of predators that would snatch him up outside. How could he force the girls to restore him to his normal height? Even when he had the upper hand when he held the loaded pistol to Blondie’s head she didn’t seem to flinch. Most folks, even the hardened ones will squirt a little piss under the same circumstances. That was full size with a gun, now he was tiny and had shit. FUCK! Dropping down from within the china cabinet, he cautiously surveyed the area. The table and chairs looked slightly askew. Peering around the leg of the cabinet, he could see no sign of either woman, even his clothes weren’t where he fell. He was just about to sneak out from his hiding spot when the urge to look up halted him in his tracks. Clare sat perched on the island counter, legs folded under her, green eyes sweeping the room looking for any sign of movement as she traced a finger around the rim of a wine glass. He felt his heart race.

Tony

Tony was playing a game on his phone, glancing up only occasionally. He checked his watch every few minutes. He hated being a point man, waiting sucked. He pulled the half full mickey of whiskey from his coat pocket and took a good pull, just to calm the nerves he justified to himself. Getting out of the car to stretch his legs, a half hour and no sign of Jack. Tony chuckled, maybe Jack did bust a leg. He found the thought funny, the Hammer laying on the other side of the fence with a broken pin. Lighting another cigarette, forty-five minutes, still nothing of Jack. The mickey was empty, he tossed it beyond the car into the woods, the bottle smashed in the darkness. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, he didn’t want to have to climb the wall. He followed Jack’s path to the wall and with some considerable effort he finally managed to scale it. Moving silently across the yard he saw lights on inside the house, creeping closer he tried to peer through windows. “Where the hell are you Jack,” he hissed. He heard the sound of laughter, girl’s laughter from within the house. “Motherfucker,” he cursed, “you better not be in there getting your pole greased!” He removed his revolver from his jacket pocket. He hated the easy way Jack seemed to get women, even the peelers down at the club seemed to fawn all over him when he was around, they called him the Hammer for an entirely different reason.

Testing the handle, he found the front door was unlocked. Opening it, he slipped in quietly. Treading lightly, he paused. There was some split tail with dark hair sitting up on the counter, clothes suspiciously looking like Jack’s lay on the counter beside her. He couldn’t tell what she was looking for, but whatever it was it held her attention. Putting the revolver away, he pulled the knife from his pocket and opened it silently. Stepping in behind her, he raised the blade against her slender throat, pressing the cold steel cruelly into her flesh. “Where’s Jack?” he whispered, smelling the scent of her hair. Clare held herself rigid. He pressed the blade harder into her neck, a trickle of blood marked the edge.

The clothes definitely were the ones Jack was wearing earlier. Angela came around the corner and started at the sight of Clare with the steel at her throat. “You best be letting her go,” she warned in her slight drawl, brow furled.

“Looks like Jackie has been getting himself some primo tail. Tell that prick to get his ass out here,” barked Tony, lasciviously eyeing the blonde now clad only in a shirt and small panties. A half glass of red wine in her left hand.

 “You are going to release her now, or you will not live long enough to regret it,” warned the blonde, voice unyielding.

“Fuck you,” he laughed. “Jack!” he called out.

“Jack!” Angela called, miming Tony. “He’s around here somewhere, aren’t you Jack?” she taunted, mocking grin on her comely face. 

“JACK!” bellowed Tony.

No response. “Those are his fucking clothes right there,” he said, pointing with to the pile with his free hand.

“So it would appear,” acknowledged the blonde woman. “But he can’t help you,” she added, taking a step closer toward Tony.

“Maybe I’ll get me a little taste before he comes back,” he snarled, leaning in closer. The thought of hurting her made him hard. She could smell the stink of cigarettes and booze on his breath. He licked the side of Clare’s smooth neck opposite the blade.

“Enough of this,” Angela said with a slight shake of her head. She raised her right hand and waved it at him, as she might a bothersome fly. Tony staggered back a step as if physically slapped by an invisible force, the knife fell from his hand. Clare ducked and hopped down off the island and out of his grasp. The pair watched in amusement as the man vanished into his clothes as he shrank away. Circling the island, they deposited their glasses on the counter before dropping down to hands and knees, one to either side of the heap of clothes, Clare said, “We can’t let this one get away.”

The world seemed to spin and fall away, his stomached revolt and he vomited, whiskey and acid burning his throat. He twisted as another wave of nausea tore through him. Suddenly he felt weight pressing down on him from above, oppressive weight. He didn’t know yet, but it was the women patting his clothes searching for him. Suddenly the darkness was pulled away and he was blinded by a stab of light.

Startled expression full of fear. He glanced about, wild-eyed, desperately trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. Suddenly the gigantic hand of the brunette swept down over him, catching his leg, he twisted and came up against the back of her hand. Thrashing, he bit Clare as hard as he could. Surprised by the suddenly stab of pain in her hand, she him go. He fell back onto his clothes. Jumping to his feet he tried to clamber over his clothing to run but Angela quickly closed her hand around him, only his head poked out from between her thumb and fore finger, the rest of him secured in her hand and confining fingers. Instantly he leaned forward and bit down on the flesh of her thumb. To her, it felt like a bee sting, or being bit by a horsefly. He bit her again on almost the exact same spot.

“You little insect! You want to use your mouth,” said Angela with anger, changing her grip to dangle him by his feet. Lifting him toward her own mouth, she opened it and quickly pushed him inside, he tasted awful, faintly like cigarettes and day old sweat as he twisted and struggled inside her mouth. Using her tongue, she pushed him to the back of her mouth. Opening her throat, as she might for an oyster, she lifted her chin and swallowed. She could still feel him struggling as peristalsis pulled him down into her interior. There was even some residual sensation in her stomach. “I can feel him moving inside me,” she said touching her smooth belly. Clare reached out and put her hand next to Angela’s.

Clare laughed, “That was drastic,” she teased.

“The little bastard bit me,” she answered, rubbing the pink spot on her hand where Tony had chomped her. “Hard.”

“As rewarding as it might have been, we are no closer to understanding why we are crawling with thieves tonight. I was hoping he might have given us some insight,” said Clare.

Angela frowned, “Not overly rewarding, he didn’t taste very good. Feeling him struggle on the other hand,” she left the rest unsaid, rewarding Clare with a smile.

“I’m going to have to call Hilde,” stated Clare, adding, “There is something afoot. Two robbers in one night is more than coincidence. She needs to be in the know. If you want to take care of this mess, I’ll go make that call.” Taking her glass by the stem, Clare left the kitchen, touching the mark on her neck left by the blade.

Angela scooped up Tony’s clothing and set it on the island near Jack’s. Leaning against the counter, she raised her glass to her lips and tipped it savoring the wine as it washed away the lingering unpleasant aftertaste left by Tony’s passage.

The Chase

From his vantage, Jack stared in horror. He has seen the whole incident unfold. This was so far from anything he could have imagined, he was dumbstruck. She just ate Tony, whole. Involuntarily he let slip a nervous chuckle, there was some cosmic irony to Tony’s fate, given his penchant to hurting girls that he should be devoured by one. Were Jack not up the same creek without anything remotely resembling a paddle, he would surely have laughed a lot harder. Despite her amazingly long lovely legs and skimpy undergarment, Jack’s only thought now was for escape. If he could remain undetected, he might be able to survive until this shit wore off. If it wore off. He paused. What if it didn’t wear off, then what? Then what indeed. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize the layout of the house, the scope might be vastly different, but the layout hadn’t changed. Clare had said her mother was away, which meant he might find some refuge in the master bedroom.

Clare reappeared in the kitchen, “No answer, but I left a message we had intruders.”

Angela nodded, a warm flush in her cheeks. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or the hunt or the little burglar still squirming, but I am most assuredly enjoying myself,” she added, absently tracing her fingers over her lean stomach.

Clare smiled, she too was enjoying the thrill of a good hunt.

Glancing toward the stairs descending to the lower level of the house, “Could he have gotten downstairs, I wonder?” asked Angela.

“Highly unlikely, the steps would’ve have been too big for him, but we could check,” Clare offered.

“Couldn’t hurt,” replied Angela. Together they walked toward the stairs.

Jack watched surreptitiously from his hiding spot. Once they were out of view, he could hear the sounds of their descending footfalls on the flight of stairs. He made a break for the hall, running as fast as his small legs would carry him.

“My wine,” groused Clare, “I forgot it upstairs.”

Ascending quickly, she strolled back into the kitchen just in time to see the tiny form enter the hall.

“He’s here!” she cried, moving now in his direction.

He knew she saw him, the sound of her footsteps grew louder as she rapidly closed the distance between them. There was no way he was going to make the master bedroom, he ducked into the first door on his right, a spacious bathroom. He stayed against the kick of the bathroom counter, trying to use the overhang to his advantage. Circling around and behind the toilet, he paused as his chest heaved sucking in air. Back to the cold white porcelain, he peered over his shoulder the way he had come. Clare was there, kneeling, blocking the path of retreat with hands extended. She wore a big smile on her face. He darted to the other side of the base of the rear of the toilet, just as Angela arrived. The blonde stepped over Clare and knelt down, elbows on the smooth tile, hands out.

“Come on out little fellow,” coaxed Clare, leaning in closer.

Sweat streamed down his forehead as he scampered back and forth behind the toilet, looking for any possible avenue of escape, but both women had hands down, ready to catch him.

“I’ll push him your way,” Angela said, moving in closer around the toilet slowly, trying to steer him back to Clare or an area where she could grab him. Her hands were very close, when suddenly he feinted right then left, ducked around her hand before she could intercept him. His maneuver brought him to the front of the toilet. Angela’s recovery though delayed, was quick enough to force him to his left, and right toward Clare’s legs. Now he was between the women as they scrambled to re-position themselves to trap him between them. The movement of such gigantic limbs suddenly made him very concerned about the possibility of getting kneeled on and crushed. A single miscue would see him turned into a greasy red stain on the bathroom floor. He hesitated only a second before darting to his right, trying get out from between, but the gap closed and he shifted back to his left.

Angela moved from behind, herding him to Clare’s waiting hands, but he promptly ducked left then suddenly altered his direction to the right, but Angela countered.

Clare reached out quickly to grab him with her right hand but when he attempted to dodge, she accidently struck him, knocking him to the ground hard. The force of the impact from the ground staggered him. He tried to rise but it was too late, Clare quickly gathered him up in her warm hand. “Got you!” she exclaimed, tone triumphant.

“Remember, they bite,” cautioned Angela, leaning back on her heels, serious look on her gorgeous face.

He shook his head to clear his vision and gather his himself as the ground rushed away from him. He was caught firmly in her hand, her thumb pinning his chest securely. “I won’t bite,” he said struggling for breath.

She held him at her eye level, the speed of the acceleration caused his stomach to roll. Her face was flawless but on this scale it felt like he was in front of billboard.

“Why did you come here? What were you looking for?” she said, ire in her lovely face. Immobilized by the rigidity of her grip, he remained silent and glowered into her large emerald eyes. She squeezed slightly, crushing the air out of him. His face went red but he did not speak.

“Well?” she demanded, squeezing a little more and shaking the hand she held him with. He thought his head was going to pop.

“I don’t think he can talk with how tight you’re holding him,” said Angela. Clare eased her grip but still held him fast. He remained silent

“Let me try,” said the blonde. Clare transferred the man into Angela’s open palm. Balancing him in her open hand, she brought him before her face. “What you fail to understand, Jack, may I call you Jack? Anyway, what you don’t seem to grasp is how potentially unpleasant this could be for you.” She smiled a perfect smile and looked sympathetically at him. He knew what lay behind that gorgeous smile, he had watched Tony disappear behind that deceptive smile.

Turning his head to face Clare, “What the fuck have you done to me!” he demanded, adopting an aggressive tone.

“I shrunk you,” said Clare. “I thought it was pretty obvious,” she added with an amused expression on her face.

“It’s not possible, there’s no way…” he mumbled as he shook his head.

“Yet here you are,” replied Clare, spreading open her hands.

“Jack, I want you to look at me,” said Angela, drawing his attention back from Clare. “It’s important for you to tell us why you’ve come here and who may have sent you. Help us and we can help you.”

“Fuck you and,” turning back to Clare, “fuck you.”

“You’re a little short on equipment to be extending such bold invitations,” cautioned Clare with a capricious smile and patting the crotch of her black pants.

“There’s no need for profanity Jack,” Angela chastised.

“Fix me, return me to normal, and I’ll leave, I’ll just walk away,” he offered.

“You were already given that opportunity, but now that ship has sailed,” Clare replied.

Turning his head back to look at Angela, “You fucking ate Tony!” he indicted.

Angela smiled, “Yes, so that should give you some incentive to answer our questions lest you suffer a similar fate.”

Lifting his arms to shoulder height, he gave them each the finger.

“Fuck it,” said Clare. “Give him back I’ll just eat him and be done with it.” She rubbed her taut stomach.

As Angela passed him back to Clare, the raven haired beauty licked her full lips.

“Wait!” he yelled as Clare knocked him down in Angela’s hand and lifted him aloft by one of his legs. She raised him up over her head.

“Goddamn it wait!” he cried, squirming against the grip as he dangled precariously over her face.

Opening her mouth, revealing perfectly set white teeth, Clare lowered him closer as if to put his entire body into her wet place. Her breath was fresh and held a hint of some type of fruit.

Just an inch from her mouth, she paused and said, “Was there something you wanted to say?”

“Don’t fucking eat me, for Christsakes!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t chew, I’ll just let you slide down my throat and you’ll wind up in my tummy whole. You might survive a few hours as my body begins to break you down and absorb the best parts of you. Of course sometime tomorrow I’ll expel the rest you.” She patted the toilet seat with her free hand.

“Just a goddamn minute! Wait!”

“Better tell her Jack, I don’t think she’s going to let you keep stalling,” advised Angela, a reproving look on her face.

Clare snaked her tongue out of her mouth and licked him from face to waist as he thrashed against her. “Mmm,” she cooed, “You taste good,” then she let go.

Instead of dropping straight in as she intended, he caught himself on the side of her mouth and frantically tried to pull himself out. Using her tongue she easily dislodged his grasp and he fell backwards into her mouth. As he tried to orient himself, she drew her tongue back in and closed her pretty mouth. He clutched and grabbed anything he could to avoid being drawn down her maw, yelling and hollering for her to stop, but everything was so slick he couldn’t get purchase. She swirled him around her mouth, backwards and forwards, drawing him deeper into her mouth then moving him toward her teeth, savoring his taste as he moved over her tongue. She found the sensation of him squirming futilely against her might incredibly arousing.

Filled with adrenaline he vigorously fought not only against being drawn down her throat, but also trying to keep his hands and feet out from between her pearly white teeth. Finally, she opened her mouth and pushed him out onto her hand. Drenched in her saliva, he sputtered and coughed in her palm. Turning his head to look at Clare, eyes wide, a rabbit in a wolf’s jaw. Every muscle in his body screamed as he had fought for his life.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself next time, you are so tasty I almost swallowed,” she said to him, a little breathless herself. Turning to Angela, she added, “I can’t believe how wet I am, I am so turned on right now. To feel him thrashing about like that, it is intoxicating.” Looking back to Jack, she smiled wickedly. “Oh the things I am thinking for you at this moment.”

Angela held out her hand and Clare rolled him onto it. He was still breathing heavy from the tremendous exertion he had expended in Clare’s mouth. His proud and powerful physique heaving. He rolled over and up onto his knees, mopping slick hair back from his face. She smiled reassuringly, leaned forward almost as if to kiss, and sucked him head first into her mouth, his legs still sticking out. His hollering silenced as she tipped hear head backward and sucked the rest of him into her mouth.

As before, into the breach he was plunged, thrashing and struggling, desperate fear lending him strength against her powerful tongue as she moved him at will about the inside of her mouth. Surrounded by her saliva and sweet breath he tumbled, strength bleeding from him with each passing moment until finally depleted, he lay on her tongue. Like Clare, she too enjoyed the taste of him and the thrill of his life or death struggle. He could feel the power in her tongue as it undulated beneath him. She pressed it against the roof of her mouth pinning his legs there and started to swallow, he could feel the beginning of the descent to fathomless depths below and wondered if there was anything left of Tony.

Suddenly, Angela opened her mouth, him still on her tongue exhausted and spent from exertion. He felt her breath roll over him as she exhaled through her mouth. Raising her hand she removed him from her tongue, he remained limp in her palm.

“My, my, this one is very different from the last, much more delightful,” she voiced heatedly, casting a predatory glance over to Clare. “It may be indelicate for me to say, but my pussy is absolutely sopping right now.”

“I know!” added Clare. A smile crept over her face and she threw a quick glance at the bathroom door.

“No more, please,” he croaked, futilely raising a hand as if the gesture might ward them off.

Water Boarding…?

Angela also smiled and nodded before looking down on him, “Sugar, we are only getting warmed up,” she said, closing her hand around his tiny body before rising to her feet. Clare followed suit.

Down the hall, second door on the right, a bedroom, Angela climbed atop the large bed and positioned herself with her back against the pillows at the headboard. Clare lay across the bed on her side, facing Angela.

“What are you doing?” questioned Jack, head swimming with vertigo.

Opening her hand, Jack lying on her palm, “Mr. Dalton, I must confess our interaction has left my person in a state of somewhat heated discombobulation,” she said, sucking her lower lip in between her teeth.

“What?” he asked weakly.

She smiled, a hungry smile before using her free hand to grasp the elastic waistband of her panties and slide him feet first and face down over her swollen mons, letting out a slight gasp as he settled into the groove of her femininity. She was slick with excitement. He found the scent of her excited sex heady and intoxicating, almost overwhelming. Releasing the elastic, the gusset of her panties pulled him fast into a silken embrace against her weeping pussy. Under different circumstances, he might have eschewed the lovely qualities of this particular vagina, wonderfully smooth, and devoid of hair. However, the fact it was bigger than he was and seemed eager to envelop him didn’t afford him much time to appreciate its superior aesthetic qualities. With leaden arms he tried vainly to push away from immense vagina he was pressed against, hand slipping futilely over her moist inner folds and aroused clit. The more he struggled, the hotter and wetter she became, her loins becoming more engorged with blood. Like a flower blooming, her outer lips parted and opened. Angela, leaned her head back against the headboard, spreading her legs wider. Her body shuddered. Her sweet nectar flowed over him, into him as he struggled weakly against her. The heat emanating from her was intense, and despite his beleaguered conditions he found he was becoming incredibly aroused, awash in her delicious secretions. Losing the battle to struggle, he grew still. A moment passed before he felt her fingers press against him from the outside of the panties. Slowly, carefully at first, she began to rub him up and down the groove of her feminine place, the soft tender flesh yielding to the pressure of the touch. Placing her index finger directly on the back of his head, she pressed his face against her clit. Slow circular motions at first, so sensitive she could feel his day’s growth of whiskers as it tickled and titillated her most sensitive spot. As she quickened her pace, her pressure on him intensified as urgency took hold and she began to buck in time with the movements of her hand. Suddenly she let out a moan of ecstasy and her whole body trembled. Even after she removed her finger from his head, the panties held him firm as her vagina convulsed again and a wave of her fluid spilled over him.

“That was possibly one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had”, Angela breathed, body still quivering as she looked down at her panties made almost translucent with her juice, the outline of Jack easy to see.

Positioned as she was, Clare watched in rapt fascination the tiny little man’s desperate struggle and final subjugation to Angela’s ravenous passion. Her own sex sodden, she rolled onto her back and pushing her hips toward the ceiling, removed her pants, before turning back to Angela. “May I?” she asked, green eyes absolutely ablaze with hunger, pointing to the still form in Angela’s panties.

“By all means,” replied Angela, leaning back to allow Clare access.

Reaching into Angela’s panties, she pulled Jack out by his shoulders, he resisted impotently against her inexorable pull. Covered in Angela’s pleasure expulsion he glistened. Clare pointed at his turgid penis, “Well now,” she said, reaching in and using the pad of her index finger to touch it. “I think he likes you.”

“I think I like him too,” cooed Angela, still in the afterglow of her orgasm.

Bringing Jack up to her face, Clare opened her mouth and drew him into it. She closed her eyes as she tasted the mixture that was Jack’s flesh and Angela’s climax. The exquisite combination set her already smoldering loins positively ablaze. She began to slowly trace the outline of her vagina through the fabric covering her own pussy as she rolled him about in her mouth. Immediately the fabric became slick. As Angela had, she too reached down to her panties, but instead, of pulling out the waist band she drew the panties aside and exposed her vagina. A small patch of neatly trimmed dark hair above her womanhood. She stroked her swollen pussy, inserting first one finger then another. Reaching up with the hand most recently used to deliver pleasure to her eager vagina, she removed Jack from her mouth, holding him by his legs. Spreading her legs wider, she used her other hand and parted her outer labia. Jack in hand, she brought him down and drew him through the moistened crease. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she teased herself with him. She drew him up and down the length of her pussy and over her clit, using his face and chest to fan the fire raging within her. Tilting him slightly, she angled him on the down stroke and pushed his face against the opening in her vagina. Unable to fight, he was pressed into the delicate flesh and as slippery as she was, he entered her easily. Carefully she eased him deeper into her aching pussy. First his head, a little push got his shoulders inside her, to his waist then to his knees. Her breathing growing shallower as her glorious pussy swallowed him.

Vaguely aware, he found himself slowly being fed into her hot vagina, with what remnant of strength he still retained, he began to thrash anew, trying desperately to fight against the inexorable force but touching her in ways no other man ever had, intensifying her pleasure exponentially. The walls of her sleek pussy held him fast as her pelvic muscles sucked greedily at him trying to draw him further into her depths. Slowly, she pulled him back until he was almost all the way out, then eased him in again, then again, faster this time. He gulped for air, fighting harder. Faster and faster still she plunged him into her sex, until suddenly her vagina contracted roughly, squeezing him spasmodically, over and over, he struggled to breathe, her hot cum poured over him, into him. As her orgasm began to subside, she slowly drew him out of her. Sliding out easily, he lay limp in her hand.

Angela reached down and took the still form from Clare’s trembling hand and lay his unconscious body on the bed.

“Wow,” said Clare releasing a long shaky breath, a giant satiated grin on her comely face. “I’m guessing this is probably not how he thought his evening was going to go.”

Angela laughed. “So much for getting him to talk,” she said, prodding the limp form gently.

Clare shook her head and chuckled. “I’m sure once Hilde gets here, she’ll get the information out of him. After that, I say we keep him until we get a determination, there are still many interesting things we can do with this little doll.”

“I agree. As for right now, I’m going to grab a shower,” Angela informed, hopping up off the bed and walking out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

Clare gently nudged Jack, he groaned. She smiled wickedly, devising thoughts of what other things she might do with the little man.

Round 2

Jack awoke disorientated and sore all over. Sitting up, he needed a moment to steady himself. Coughing, he tasted the remnants of Clare’s pleasure in his mouth. Images spilled into his mind as he recalled what had happened. While he ached everywhere, he checked himself for injuries. Both of his calves felt bruised but otherwise looked alright. Pushing to standing, he tested his balance. He puckered at the chill air. Clare was sitting leaning back against the pillows, a magazine now in her lap. He paused a moment to look around the rest of the room. Given the frilly design of the room and the overabundance of stuffed animals, he guess he was in Clare’s bedroom. It definitely distinct to the museum-like quality of the rest of the house. He took a couple of wobbly steps on the soft quilt, getting his feet under him. Clare looked down upon him and smiled.

“Have you decided to part with the information regarding who tendered the contract?” she asked, setting the magazine aside.

“Pfft, I could do this all day,” he scoffed, teetering to remain on his feet.

Clare chuckled, “You don’t seem to be doing so well.”

Still a little unsteady on his feet, “I could use something to drink,” he rasped, “other than that, I’m just peachy,” his tone sarcastic.

“Have you no manners?” she asked, amused.

“Something to drink, please,” he replied, “other than that I’m just fucking peachy, thank you.”

Despite her intent to hold a serious stern face, she smiled at his response.

“I’ll get you some water,” Clare said rising from the bed. He dropped to a knee to counter the tremor her departure created.

No sooner had Clare walked out, than Angela reappeared, a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her torso. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she spilled her hair out of the towel and began to dry it. Flipping her damp hair back over her head, she turned and pulled herself entirely onto the bed. As before, she leaned back against the pillows and sat crossed legged.

Clare reappeared at the door. Smiled at Angela, “He says he can do this all day,” she said, standing in the doorway holding a glass of water.

“Do what all day?” asked the blonde, looking down to Jack.

“What we just did,” she replied with a capricious grin.

 A touch of mischief in her smile, Angela looked down to Jack. “Truly?”

His mind screamed run, but his legs refused to obey, instead he remained rooted to the bed. He just watched as her hand came down and covered him, pressing him into the quilt. The force of her hand pushed the breath from his lungs. Closing her hand around him, she lifted him up and kissed him on his face before putting him in her mouth. She swirled him around some as she pulled open the towel around her body. Crossing her arms under her breasts she drooled him out onto her chest. He spilled out onto flesh still warm from the shower. Slick again he slid slowly into her cleavage, where she kneaded her breasts. Allowing her firm globes to separate, Jack rolled sideways and slid down her stomach passed her navel before stopping above her pubis. Reaching down over him, she caressed herself with a delicate finger, shuddering slightly at the electric touch. Like Clare has done earlier, she parted her outer lips. Collecting him by his legs, she rubbed him gently a few times against her rapidly tightening clit before easing him into her succulent vagina. She made a small sound in the back of her throat. Slow and methodical, she worked him slowly in and out of her pussy. Each in stroke a little deeper, until naught but where she held his feet and lower legs were exposed. Suddenly she felt his feet pull away from her and he was completely inside her pussy. She stopped, looked down at her vagina, then over at Clare.

“What?” Clare asked, drawing in close, glass of water still in her hand.

 Angela lifted her empty hands. “He’s pulled himself all the way inside, he’s…” she bit her lower lip and moaned.

Dark, he twisted inside her, using his hands to feel around the inner structures. Her sleek muscles squeezed and caressed him. He easily found the inner part of her clitoris and the other prominence tucked in just above it. Reaching out, he grabbed ahold of that and began to rub it, slowly at first, and as it began to swell, more rapidly. He risked a breath and found only enough air for a lungful, inhaling her musk deep into his lungs, he thought he was going to erupt. She started shaking violently and her pussy clamped down on him like a velvet vice. Suddenly he felt a finger snake in beside him, withdrawing and plunging in again as she began to finger herself. The fingering motion pulled in enough respirable air for him to adequately breathe as he intensified his attention on her. He could feel her heartbeat quickening and feel her swelling as she bathed him in her pleasure. Reaching a crescendo, the vice crushed down on him as her fingers withdrew. Again and again her pussy, squeezed, then released. The air was crushed from his lungs under the chain of orgasms she enjoyed. Spots danced before his eyes and he succumbed to oblivion.

Panting, Angela first looked at Clare then down at her sex. She laughed shakily. She contracted her pelvic muscles and one of Jack’s tattooed arms emerged from within her folds.

Gently, Angela took hold of Jack’s arm and eased him out of her and lay him delicately on her stomach near her navel. She rubbed a finger over his torso and he coughed before drawing in a breath of clean air.

“It looks like you gave birth to a little tiny felon,” Clare chuckled, then asked, “What did he do?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied, a quaver in her voice, “but it was magnificent.”

He was unconscious again. Clare set the glass of water on her nightstand and sat down, before favoring Angela with a grin.

The blonde met her gaze and giggled, still a little giddy. “We need to share him with Angelica.”

Clare nodded. “And the others. I’d be curious to watch what,” the rest unsaid as the cell phone on the night stand came to life. Picking it up, she put it to her ear.

“Hello,” she said. Covering the receiver, she turned to Angela and mouthed the word Hilde.

“No one was harmed, I got a little scratch on my neck. Angela got bit. Yes we have one. Jack Dalton. Yes, shrunk down. Mm-hmm. Yes. Ok,” she disconnected the call. “Hilde will be here in twenty minutes.”

Looking down at the tiny man sprawling on her lean stomach. “We had better get him ready for her,” supplied Angela.

Hilde

Hilde let herself into the house. Honey colored hair pulled back into a ponytail high on the back of her head, swayed from side to side as she walked. She was attired in a white blouse under an open grey dress jacket and wore a grey skirt with healed black dress shoes. The clothes fit her shapely form perfectly as her feet clicked crossing the hardwood floor. It was difficult to assess her age, mid-twenties to thirties, again with these women he couldn’t tell. The slender framed glasses she wore did nothing to take away from her beautiful face. Her make-up was subdued, a gentle accent to her perfect features. It was her eyes that held Jack, amber colored, like a wolf’s, and just as predatory. She reminded him of some high powered attorney, or corporate ball buster. Turning to the girls seated at the table, she simply said “Clare dear, bring me a tall drinking glass, empty, then the pair of you leaves us.” Angela got up, nodded and disappeared down the hall. Hilde set her purse down on the table, opened it and took out a small metal case. Opening it, she laid it on the table. Looking, Jack saw it was a set of stainless steel manicure tools, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Clare returned with the empty glass and followed Angela.

“Mr. Dalton, my name is Hildegarde, I am the personal assistant of Miss Heller, Clare’s mother, and this is her home you’ve chosen to intrude upon. I have taken the opportunity to do some research on you and I am told by my sources you are a no nonsense kind of man. Practical. Good, that will hasten this process. Let me be blunt. The absolute best possible outcome from our conversation here will see me returning you to the ministrations of the young ladies, and judging from their demeanor and your condition, it has been vigorous. There will be no restoration to your size condition, please do not ask. These,” she said, patting the manicure tools, “are here in the event I require additional means to encourage your participation in our discussion. I am told your threshold for suffering is incredible, but would prefer not to explore your tolerance level. However, should you prove to be rather uncooperative I will not hesitate to de-limb you,” she strummed French cut nails on the tabletop allowing the information to sink in.

Jack knew this was an entirely different animal than Clare or Angela, this was no little girl playing a game, there was no question she was as serious as a heart attack and she was in charge. Jack said nothing, but knew his circumstances had just taken a very nasty turn for the worse.

“I assume from your silence you are cognizant of your situation, but for the sake of clarity, I will explain. Your position is one of obvious vulnerability. The information you possess, while of some interest, ultimately is of lesser value to me as it will only confirm our current intelligence. Your diminished size also renders you powerless,” she said, reaching in and knocking him down with little flick from her right index finger. She put the finger on his chest and pinned him to the table. “Are we clear?” she asked, pressing hard enough to emphasis her authority.

He nodded glumly. She withdrew her finger and he climbed back on his feet.

She smiled, “Excellent. Question number one, was there a specific article or articles you were sent to acquire as part of the contract you accepted?”

“A polished black stone, faceted. The hairbrush from the bathroom in the master bedroom. Any other items gathered were mine,” he provided. His mind raced. No way did he want to have his arms and legs removed.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, evaluating him. “Who hired you?”

“It was an open contract. I accepted it.”

“Who tendered the contract?”

There it was, the question he knew would most probably end his life. Not that he owed any allegiance to the outfit, by his own personal code he was no rat.

“Who?” she asked again, leaning forward, eyes narrowing.

He looked directly into her golden eyes, but used his peripheral vision to locate the edge of the table. He surmised a fall from this height would probably end his life cleaner than what the giant woman had in store.

Hilde looked to the manicure set and selected a set of fingernail clippers and set them on the table and then leveled her gaze on him.

“Who?” she repeated, tone neutral.

He decided. Pivoting on the spot, he bolted backward, away from her toward the far edge of the table, ten paces, twenty, still running. He could hear her behind him, the chair sliding out. At least he would check out on his own terms. Thirty paces, forty and the hand closed around him tightly, lifting him up and off the table. She brought him close to her face, close enough smell her sweet exhale. “I have told you there is no escape, not even a clumsy attempt to fling yourself from the table, which I suppose was your intent.” She moved her hand back a bit and releasing the little and ring finger of her right hand, the one holding him, she exposed his midriff while essentially keeping him secure with her thumb across his chest. With her left hand, she extended her little finger and slipped the nail up his leg and between his anus and scrotum. “It has been said when you geld a stallion, he becomes more docile, amenable to instruction.”

He held still, eyes locked on hers.

“You are defiant, yet surely you must realize the gravity of your situation. Do not let your foolish man pride take you down a path more dangerous than the one you are currently on.” Pausing a moment she removed her finger and set him back on the table. “Another attempt to flee, I will remove your balls. I appreciate your misplaced loyalty to your employer, however, inevitably you will confirm for me who tendered the contract.”

“I could give a shit about protecting the shitheads who hired me, I’m just not a snitch,” he answered.

“While I respect your personal code of ethics, distorted and impractical as it may be, as well as your willingness to endure suffering far beyond anything you could imagine, you will provide me the name,” she countered, no yield in her voice.

“If you’ve got the kind of connections who can tell you who I am, look at Tony’s ID and the crew he runs with for your answers. You seem bright enough to connect the dots,” he said, “You don’t need me to confirm shit.”

She smiled, small even teeth showed between bee stung lips. “Who is Tony?” she asked leaning forward, elbows on the table.

“The dirty piece of crud assigned to watch over me. He was shrunk like me and what’s left of him is slowly digesting in blondie’s stomach.”

“Her name is Angela, and you will refrain from addressing her as anything other unless she permits it,” she instructed. “Understood?”

He nodded in affirmation, “Whatever you say fraulein,” he said with a mock accent.

Taking the drinking glass, she turned it upside down and set it over top of him. He remained passive, arms folded over his chest. She got up and left. He watched her depart, hips swaying gently as she moved. A day earlier he might have taken a run at her, plied the charm and see if he could have gotten her into the sack. Sitting down to wait, funny how fast shit changes he thought.

She returned a short time later, cell phone pressed up against her pretty head. She sat back down on the chair, a quick uh huh and a yes, she set the phone down one the table and removed the glass. “So, that solves that. What was the delivery schedule?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost 11pm, why?” she replied.

“Supposed to make a call about an hour ago to make arrangements for a rendezvous. I have a request.”

“We can discuss your request later, for now I want to know about the rendevous,” she directed.

“Can I have some clothes, you may not have to pluck my stones as they’re already half frozen off,” he said.

Hilde chuckled. “You are most amusing. Perhaps if you are still alive when our discussion has reached its conclusion, we shall see. Is it too late to make the arrangements?”

A glimmer of hope sparked in his mind.

“No, I can use my cell phone, but unless I’m restored…”

Getting up, she went to the kitchen island and brought back two cell phones. He pointed at the one that was his. Hilde hit the power button, a lock appeared on the screen, “Passcode?”

He gave her the number. She punched it in, then opened the contact file.

“Contact name?” she asked without looking up.

“Uncle Mortimer,” he replied. He expected her to hold the phone down next to him

Selecting the right file, she pressed the call button, then leaned back, holding the phone to her own head. “This is Jack,” she started in a perfect imitation of his voice, “the whole thing fucked up, that fucking stiff Tony tripped some type of goddamn silent alarm, no cops, some type of private security, they showed up guns blazing. Tony got clipped but I got the shit,” she finished. Jack’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

“Yup, both of them,” she added, still sounding like him.

“No, give me a couple of hours, I need to shake some of this heat. I’ll call back when I’m ready to make arrangements,” she winked at him, wide smile on her face.

“I don’t fucking care if you don’t like it, you fucked up, this was supposed to be a quick in and out. We will also need to re-negotiate price.”

“Later,” she said and disconnected the call.

“How did you, I mean, what the fuck just happened?” he asked. She ignored the question.

“To whom was I speaking on the other end of the line?” she asked, eyes locked back on Jack.

He hesitated, she loomed over him and raised an eyebrow. “Sounded like Cyrus,” he supplied.

“Good,” she said, backing away.

“What now?” he asked.

“Your role in this affair has come to an end. You are very fortunate the girls have advocated for your continued existence,” she said, collecting the manicure tools and his cell phone and placing them back in her purse.

“What do you mean?”

“Normally, this is where either I slide you down my throat and get a warm little glow as you are broken down or I put you into stasis pending a determination. You are most fortunate the daughter of my mistress has made a petition to hold custody of you for the moment.”

“What?” he asked, a confused look on his face.

“The girls said they weren’t finished with you yet,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Oh. Clothes?” he inquired.

“That will be up to the girls,” she answered, looping the strap of her purse over her shoulder. Turning, she fancied him with a smile, “Our interaction here tonight has come to an end Mr. Dalton, however you and I will interact again, of that I am certain.” She winked, patted her stomach and left.

“Did she leave?” Clare asked, garbed in a house robe as she walked back into the kitchen a very short time later.

“She’s a regular barrel of monkeys that one,” Jack commented dryly. “How about some bloody clothes, I’m freezing my balls off.” She scooped him up and placed him between her symmetrical breasts. He snuggled in, more for the warmth than fear of falling or affection.

“In the morning,” she answered walking to the wall and shutting off the light before heading back to her bedroom. Angela sat on the bed also clothed only in a bathrobe. Clare placed him on the bedside table. Bending further, she scooped up her silken panties off the floor and laid them on the table as well. “You can sleep with these, at least they’re silk,” she informed. He bundled himself up in her skimpy undergarment.

Distracted driving

On the drive down from the Hills in her black Audi R8, Hilde smiled to herself. She found she very much enjoyed her interaction with Jack, his audacity and demeanor. Usually there is a significant amount of whining and pleading prior to the final kiss and swallow, while it was entirely possible he had already gone through those steps with the girls, she approved that he seemed to not resort to begging. He was different, as the girls had said, she would love to feel him, use him, then pull him down her throat, fighting and thrashing as he was moved deeper and toward oblivion. She felt aroused. For half a moment she contemplated returning to the house, but her employer had other tasks for her to prepare. Distracted as she was, she was unaware of her speed. She hadn’t notice the cruiser behind her until it splashed blue and red all over the back end of her car.

Gearing down, she pulled over to the side of the road, the police car in behind her, lights stabbing color against the darkened terrain. She waited as the cop ran her plate. He got out of the vehicle and began to approach, she lowered the window.

Placing his hand on the car above the window, he looked down at her, he was moderately tall, mid-thirties, clean shaven, smug. “License and registration?” he asked, strumming his fingers on the roof of her car.

“Was I speeding?” she asked as she handed him the documentation.

He removed his hand from the roof and looked down at her insurance. “Not just speeding, you were careening quite dangerously down the road, there are at least a dozen different infractions I could cite you with, even impound this sleek little ride,” he replied.

She remained silent.

“Have you had anything to drink this evening ma’am?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, irritated by the delay.

He leaned in toward the window, “I think I smell alcohol. I’m going to need you to step out of the car ma’am,” he said, backing away from the door.

She let out an audible sigh and exited the vehicle to stand before the cop. At an inch over six feet, he was still taller than she. He looked her up and down, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He ran her through the sobriety tests.

“This is not necessary,” she stated, getting angry, now not only by the delay, but especially by the officer’s attitude.

“Face your vehicle and place your hands flat on the hood of your car,” he ordered. The tone rubbed her wrong, but she did as instructed. Stepping in close, he used his foot to part her legs and began to frisk her, touching her in ways beyond the scope of his duties.

“Enough,” she turned and pushed him with her palm. The force surprised him as he staggered back several feet. She shook her head. “You are too bold,” she said firmly.

“You resisting me?” he asked, right hand drifting down to his side where pistol and pepper spray were holstered.

She smiled. “No. I think I could use this at the moment. Officer…”

“Taylor,” he answered, liking her willingness to be more compliant.

“So what shall we do first Officer Taylor? Shall you fuck me over the hood of my car, or maybe I should blow you?” Had he known her, he would have discerned the facetious tone of her comment, but he didn’t know her.

Lick his lips, he stepped forward and grabbed her right breast.

She remained impassive as the cop pawed at her breast. “Done yet?” she asked.

“I’m a long way from being done,” he said.

“No, you are finished, I had hoped for more though,” she said.. Maybe if she hadn’t become so aroused dealing with Jack Dalton she might have been more tolerant of the idiot cop. She closed her hand into a fist then opened it in the direction of the policeman.

A bewildered look suddenly exploded on his face as the world around him seemed to expand and grow.

He seemed to fall within his own clothes as everything around him appeared to dramatically increase in size. Struggling through the field of fabric, he emerged through the collar of his uniform. She towered over him, a smirk on the side of her face. He shrank back from her, reaching out to try and fend off her gigantic hand. She grabbed him by the leg and lifted him skyward, until he was dangling before her face. Cocking her head to the side, “Do you think you still smell alcohol,” she asked sarcastically. His frantic eyes wild with panic. “Why don’t you see for yourself,” she said lifting him over her face and releasing her hold, allowing him to fall into her open mouth. She re-positioned his body, head at her teeth, feet at her throat, holding him firm against the roof of her mouth once he was properly aligned. She let out a small noise of anticipation as she then drew saliva into her mouth, extended her chin and swallowed, tracing a line on the outside of her throat and between her breasts as he descended into her.

Bending down, she gathered her license and registration and the cops uniform. Walking to the cruiser, she opened it and tossed the officer’s clothes inside. A satisfied smile on her face as she felt the warm tingle from deep within. Raising her hand, she proceeded to shrink the cruiser until she could lift it with one hand. Walking back to her car, she placed the model sized car on the passenger seat and set off for home. Pulling out her cell phone, she made two calls.

Morning ablutions

When he awoke in the morning, every muscle he owned screamed in protest. He looked over at the girls, both of whom were propped up and looking at him, a sour expression on each of their faces.

“What?” he asked.

“You snore,” commented Angela dryly.

“Like loud,” added Clare, “like a tiny little electric shaver, buzzing away all night.”

He clambered out of the panties and stood up and stretched his aching muscles. “I desperately need to take a leak and some kind of a shower would be great, I feel like a day old glazed donut. I’m starving too,” he added, scratching at himself.

Clare reached over and picked him up around his waist, bringing him close she gave him a sniff. “Bah, you definitely need a shower.”

“We should all shower together,” suggested Angela provocatively. Clare smiled.

Using her free hand, Clare pulled the sheets away exposing her substantial bosom, nipples semi-erect. Clare swung legs over the side, as Angela climbed out the other side. Walking down the hall into the spacious bathroom, Clare set him on the bathroom counter and then left to turn on the shower. Angela sat on the toilet beside the counter and started to pee, the sound of urine splashing in the bowl. Jack turned to her and made a face.

“You would prefer I pee in the shower?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and giving him a half grin.

”I’m good,” he replied, the thought having no appeal for him. He walked over to the sink and began to urinate.

“That’s nasty!” said Clare, returning to the counter. “We brush our teeth here.” She turned on the hot water to wash away his pee.

 “I had to go,” he defended with a shrug.

Angela flushed the toilet and got up.

The shower was amazing, definitely suited for the stature of the estate. Lined with imported tiles, multiple shower heads, and spacious enough for at least ten normal sized people, a wooden bench seat attached to the wall away from the shower heads. All three shower heads were raining warm water down.

Setting Jack down on the floor of the shower. He cautious approached the drain to make sure the holes in the grate were small enough he couldn’t accidently fall through. He watched as Clare and Angela stepped into the shower, Angela sliding the glass door shut behind her. He felt so tiny, almost lost compared to the two women towering over him.

“Be careful down there,” warned Clare, moving under a shower head. Angela followed suit at another of the shower heads. Getting their hair wet and they slowly turned, almost in unison to the jet of water to ensure they were completely wet. Jack danced around beneath their feet, wetting himself off the spray as it fell from their beautiful flesh.

From a shelf built into the shower wall, Clare upended a bottle of shampoo and put a dollop on her hand before passing the bottle to Angela.

Running her fingers through her long hair and massaging her scalp to lather the shampoo, Clare paused, a large glob of shampoo in her hand. Exchanging glances with Angela, she aimed her hand directly over top of where Jack stood and allowed the gob of shampoo to slide off her fingers and splash down on him.

“Ahaha,” he noised a false laugh, looking up to see who had bombarded him, foam up to his belly button.

Angela laughed.

“More shampoo?” Clare asked, an innocent look on her face.

“I think I’m good,” he replied with a nod, lifting foam covered arms up to his face and blowing mock kisses.

Taking a bar of soap off the shelf, Angela rubbed it against Clare’s breasts, lathering the large pendulous globes, before moving the soap down to Clare’s toned belly. Clare rubbed the soap on her bosom, frothing the lather before she placed her hands on Angela’s chest and started to soap her lovely breasts.

Jack watched on as the spectacle unfolded before him. They seemed to become lost in each other, swaying to the music their bodies were making. He moved to the shower wall to avoid accidently getting caught underfoot as the pair succumbed to passion. From there, he watched in awe as the two women caressed and touched one another, like two gigantic, perfect goddesses. Water cascading off of magnificent bodies. The steam in the shower lending to the eroticism of the moment.

Separating, Clare looked down to him, green eyes flashing. Crouching down, she lowered her right hand to the ground in front of him. He stepped onto her hand and steadied himself. Rising back up, “Does this excite you?” she asked coyly.

He nodded mutely, looming down at his erect penis then back up at her.

She extended her index finger and curled the other three fingers of her right hand back toward her palm. “Wrap yourself around my finger,” she instructed, a sly smile on her dampened face. Heading toward the end of her finger, he shinnied out carefully, arms and legs tightly around her digit.  He made sure his grip was secure, the distance to the shower floor felt like he was seven or eight stories in the air.

Angela moved in close. Clare raised her right hand to Angela’s left breast where she slowly drew Jack around the circumference of the sensitive nipple, slick tissue stiffening to the touch. The women kissed, long and passionate. Breaking the kiss, Clare leaned back, lower lip held fast between her teeth, she cast a glance down Angela’s body before releasing her lip and meeting Angela’s eyes. The blonde understood at once. Smiling, she leaned back against the shower tile, tilted her pelvis and opened her legs.

Moving her hand down Angela’s left side, she held Jack next to Angel’s pussy before sliding her finger, and him along with it into her heated opening. Slowly she withdrew her finger, Jack still clinging on, she teased the pussy, using her fingertip and the side of Jack’s head to delicately caress all of the sensitive areas adjacent to the clit, before a couple of feather light strokes over the exposed nerve nexus.  Then she gently eased finger and Jack into the excited sex. To him, it felt as if Angela’s vagina was trying to pull him away from Clare’s finger.

Alternating speed and pressure. Angela thrust her hips against the pleasure causing combination of Jack and Clare’s finger. A soft sound, rising in pitch escaped her lips as she came with force, an opalescent residue seeping out of her sex and down the inside of her thighs. Using Jack, Clare traced the path of Angela’s climax, before bringing the finger to her own mouth.

“Let go,” she whispered, opening her mouth to receive Jack. He released his hold and rolled onto her tongue, where she caressed his nakedness. Leaning forward, she parted her lips and kissed Angela on the mouth. Jack could feel Angela’s probing tongue. Together the three of them shared a moment of intimacy before Jack was passed into Angela’s mouth.

Angela paused a moment, enjoying the marvelous feeling of Jack in her mouth. Kneeling down before Clare, she reached out and parted the dark haired woman’s legs. With her tongue, she re-positioned Jack so that she was holding his lower legs between her lips, his head and torso now sticking out of her mouth. Using her fingers, she opened Clare’s aroused pussy. Moving in closer, she used Jack’s head to tease all around the outside excited vagina, tantalizing the swollen outer lips. Clare moaned, arching her hips forward in an attempt to capture him. After tormenting Clare for several minutes, Angela finally pushed the tiny man into Clare. Gently inserting his head and shoulders into the tight hole. She used her tongue against his feet to drive him deeper into the slick darkness of Clare’s primed vagina.

Inside, the confines were tight, sleek muscles holding him fast. He struggled to bring his hands up to where he could touch her G-spot. He opened his mouth and was rewarded with a gush of her essence. There was a moment of light as Angela parted Clare’s pussy lips, opening her enough to permit Jack some air. Leaning in, Angela started gently kissing Clare’s exposed femininity, running her tongue ever so delicately at the beautiful pink folds. Lapping at Clare’s stiffened clitoris, she ran her tongue downward before snaking it into Clare’s swollen pussy. Situated as he is, Jack could feel Angela’s probative tongue against his feet as it penetrated Clare.

Heartbeat accelerating, he felt Clare’s velvety muscles tighten in preparation for the impending climax. He felt fingers pushing at him and he was pushed deeper in her vagina, up against her cervix, the way behind closing as Clare’s muscles enveloped him. Clare felt a spasm as she experienced her first release. He felt pressure against his back as her cervix dipped down and pressed against him, almost as if it were trying to grab him and pull him even deeper inside. He struggled to spin within her to ward off the cervix, but the vaginal contractions were much too powerful for him, again and again he was battered before a final intense convulsion crushed the consciousness out of him.

Outside, Clare was reeling as wave after wave of deep intense pleasure passed through her body. Finally shuddering and collapsing against the shower wall before sliding down to the ground.

Angela’s eyes were alight, looking questioningly at Clare.

“He’s somewhere way deep inside, we need to get him out. If I haven’t squished him, he’ll be out of air soon,” Clare said.

Parting her trembling legs, Clare allowed Angela to insert a finger to try and locate the tiny man. With some effort, and caution not to damage him further, Angela was able to ease him out of Clare’s blood engorged vagina. 

Afterglow

He opened his eyes to the feeling of warm water running over him. Clare held him carefully in her hand, gently rinsing him off under the faucet in the bathroom sink. “You gave us quite a scare,” she said with a great big grin on her face, “I think I felt you in my uterus,” she chuckled. He smiled weakly. Finished, she lay him on the white face cloth beside the sink and folded it over on him.

Drying himself in the facecloth, he stood upright.

“You ok?” asked Clare, noting the wobble in his stance.

He rewarded her with a thumbs up. “I could use some clothes. I’m standing here like a bare assed baby.”

“Hardly a baby,” purred Angela, as she bent forward and wrapped her hair in a towel, before leaning back with the towel wrapped around her head.

“And food, I’m starving,” he added, his stomach knotted from lack of sustenance.

An hour later, Clare put together a breakfast consisting of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice.

The girls set aside a side plate and put food there for him. He didn’t eat much compared to the amount of material on his plate, but he was stuffed.

“We are going to go out today. I think it would be best if you remained in my room for the time being. I really don’t want to come home and accidently step on you or something,” said Clare.

“I’m still pretty tired,” he confessed, bravado shelved for the moment

“Okay, let me put you to bed,” said Clare. Scooping him up off the table.

“Clothes, don’t forget about clothes,” he said as she carried him to her room.

Setting him down on the bed, “Later,” she replied, giving him a smile.

Food in his gut, he reclined lazily on top of Clare’s bed, nestled between the quilt and one of the pillows.

“We’ll be out for much of the day, need anything?” asked Clare, standing at the door.

Already starting to slip into slumber, Jack didn’t respond. Smiling, she closed the door.

Meanwhile, back at the outfit

Vince knew he wasn’t the smartest, but everybody knew Jack was a solid player. When the order came down after the job went sideways Jack was to be whacked, it felt wrong to Vince. Tony got bumped and Jack was going to be made to pay. He didn’t like it, but who was he to question? At five inches over six feet and 300 pounds, Vince was bone breaker. His job was simple, hurt people. Word was Jack was coming in to drop off the goods and collect his pay, except, it wasn’t going to go down that way. Cyrus said they were going to clip Jack instead.

At six feet and slender as a reed, Cyrus made sure he had plenty of muscle on hand on account Jack was one tough son of a bitch. Aside from Vince, there were a couple of other thumpers and a couple of pistols. The six men waited for Jack in the back room of the club called The Grind House. Everything was shut down during the afternoon, perfect spot for a meet, controlled environment, no unnecessary witnesses, Cyrus liked it. You fucked up Jack he thought.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor preceded the appearance of a skirt looking all business like followed by two other broads, both good looking hens, one a red head, the other a blonde.

“Club is closed honey, come back tonight and I can get you and your girls some work,” he laughed, a derisive chuckle as he looked to the others in the room and jerked a thumb in the direction of the women.

 “Cyrus,” she said, recognizing his voice. “My name is Hildegarde, and I am here for information pertaining to the contract recently undertaken by Mr. Jack Dalton.”

Jack’s name caught his attention, dead serious now. “Where the fuck is Jack?” he demanded.

“Mr. Dalton is no longer a portion of this equation. As I anticipate this will become very unpleasant shortly, anyone not wishing to be involved is encouraged to leave now.”

Cyrus, a look of incredulity on his stubble laden face, “Are you for fucking real? Hustle your little cunt out of here before I have my boys open you up and do some permanent damage.”

Hilde looked around the room, a couple of men chortled but nobody moved. “No one?” she asked. Vince’s bad feeling just got a whole lot worse. He knew he was none too bright, but that little voice inside of him told him he didn’t want any piece of this

“Bitch, I don’t know what the fuck you think is going on here, but you and these other two pieces of ass are most definitely in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time,” he said nodding to Francis and Howard. Both shooters pulled out pistols and aimed them at the women.

Hilde looked at the shooters, then the goons, then to Cyrus. “It would appear as if everyone is staying?” more question that statement.

“Everyone except you and your bitches,” he said. “Take them to the house on Birch, don’t bust her face up too bad, I’m going break this one in personally.” He eyed Hilde with a smirk. He would enjoy raping her before slitting her throat.

“I want to go,” mumbled Vince, voice meek, an odd sound from such a large man.

“Shut the fuck up Vince,” snapped Cyrus.

Looking at the other two women, then at Vince, “You are free to go,” Hilde said. Vince started moving toward the door.

“Stand your fucking ground you goddamn coward!” yelled Cyrus. Turning to Francis, he said, “Shoot that fucker in the back of the head.”

“Vince!” called Francis, raising his pistol.

The women moved aside as Vince reached the door.

“Fucking shoot him!” screamed Cyrus.

“You are no longer in a position to issue orders,” advised Hilde. Without bothering to look at the other women, she said, “Ladies.”

Vince didn’t look back as he passed through the door, didn’t see what happened as the redhead and the blonde moved their hands and the world went dark for the five men in the back room of the Grind House.

Q & A

Cyrus woke up with a thundering headache. Reaching up, he touched his head. Opening his eyes, there was very poor illumination along the top edge of the wall in the rectangular room in which he found himself. He could see he was naked and he had no idea how long he might have been unconscious. He wondered where everybody else was. The whole room held a faint aroma of leather and oddly enough, there were no doors.

“It seems as if he’s awake now,” said a female voice that seemed to echo throughout the room.

Suddenly the room was filled with blinding light as the roof vanished. A couple of seconds elapsed, Cyrus’s eyes adjusted to the light, the brightness doing nothing good for the throbbing in his head.

A gigantic face loomed high above the upper edge of the wall and peered down into the room, it was the drop dead gorgeous redhead he had seen earlier in the club, the one that came in with Hildegarde. Above the edge of the wall her face and shoulders were visible, her long red hair tied back and she was immense.

“My name is Vanessa,” she said, her voice warm and friendly. Mirth danced in her light green eyes. “For the sake of the astonished look on your face, let me explain the situation. We are seeking information about the contract recently accepted by Jack Dalton, namely we want to know who tendered the contract.”

Cyrus was dumbfounded. For the moment, he just stared up, unable to reconcile what he saw and the impossibility of the situation. He started to laugh, a nervous response to an irrational situation. “This can’t be real,” he babbled.

Another face appeared over the room, a different blonde that the one in the club, this one had blue streaks in her hair. Then another face, this one the blonde from the club, and then yet another, a brunette with hair so dark it looked blue-black.

Cyrus pushed himself as tightly into a corner as he possibly could.

“I’m waiting,” Vanessa, a stern look now on her face.

Reaching in, Vanessa pushed Cyrus out of the corner he had been trying to cower in. Collecting him by the feet, she raised him up and out of the room. As he cleared the edge of the wall, he could see now more clearly the expanse of space outside of the box. It looked like a kitchen sprawling out and away from his inverted vision, and the room he had just been in was nothing more than a box on the kitchen table. At the end of the table sat the woman named Hildegarde, watching impassively. Cyrus screamed. Also at the table, a striking woman with white hair and piercing frost blue eyes, despite the hair color, she didn’t look old, and another woman standing off by the wall, looking exactly like a twin of the blonde with blue streaks in her hair. A brunette with big dark eyes leaned against the counter, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers.

Vanessa lowered him down to the table and released him. He pushed back and away, but there was nowhere to crawl, no avenue to escape, everywhere he looked there was one of the giant women. “Please,” he pleaded, “Whatever you want,” he whined, curling up.

“The name of the person who offered up the contract,” said Vanessa leaning in close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath.

 “A third party set it all up, Edwards, Thomas Edwards, some kind of lawyer or something,” squealed Cyrus.

“I know that name,” said Hilde, attention caught by the name, she stood up. “Until I’ve had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Edwards, we shall adjourn. I don’t anticipate much difficulty with him so we will re-convene within the next day or two,” advised Hilde.

“What of this little morsel?” Emilie, the blonde woman from earlier in the nightclub asked.

 “Anyone in need of pet?” asked Vanessa with a grin.

“We will save this one until there has been a determination,” Hilde said, her authority brooking no room for argument.

“There was another name, Lucien Delacroix, or something. The lawyer mentioned it. Can’t you let me go?” beseeched Cyrus, looking from face to face of the women surrounding him.

Hilde frowned, she so detested the sniveling. Waving her hand over top of him, he slipped to the table top, asleep. Removing a case from her purse, she picked him up, set him in the case and returned it to her purse.

“Speaking of pets, I hear you have a new one,” said Angelica, walking over to her twin as the other women began to leave Vanessa’s apartment.

“Clare and I have sort of been sharing him,” answered Angela with a sheepish grin and a touch of color in her cheeks.

“Look at the blush! I’m going to have to meet this little fellow,” Angelica teased playfully as Angela’s face darkened further.

“You should come over,” prompted Clare, a hint of crimson in her own face.

“I definitely think so,” said Angelica.

Clarice

Outside the room, he heard the sound of a female voice, familiar, but at the same time not. “Yes! I’ll put them away, god,” protested the speaker. Footfalls outside the door grew fainter.

Drifting in and out of sleep, he didn’t know how much time had elapsed before he was awoken again, this time by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open.

“You in here Clare?” called the female voice he’d heard earlier, opening the door further. He remained rooted where he reclined on the bed.

His first impression of the young woman who entered the room was she must be in her middle teens, though her body was definitely that of a full grown woman, substantial breasts, flare of hip. She had her long dark hair piled high on her head, a couple of bold red streaks hung on either side of her head, framing her youthful face. The family resemblance was too pronounced to ignore, this girl was obviously Clare’s sister.

The young woman came in and closed the door behind her. She immediately began to rummage along the top of Clare’s dresser and through the drawers.

“Well hello Clarice,” she said, her imitation of the cannibal psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter perfect, just as Hilde had impersonated him. Lifting the small purse out of the drawer, she opened it, grumbled, and dropped it back into the drawer.

Jack smirked. The sister was raiding Clare’s room for loose change. Too funny. She walked over to beside the bed to the night stand. “Gross,” she said, using thumb and forefinger to remove the panties Jack had used as a makeshift bed the night before and dropped them to the floor. Turning, she plunked her ass down on the bed with enough force to bounce him up off the bed. She proceeded to rummage through the drawer.

“Hey!” yelled Jack, rising to his feet.

The girl looked over her shoulder a moment, the returned to her pillaging.

Jack walked over and kicked her on the side of her leg, hoping the force would draw her attention. She stopped and looked down in the direction of the kick.

“Holy mother fuck!” she exclaimed, jumping up off the bed. The sudden motion caused the mattress to spring back, knocking him from his feet.

“You startled me!” she exclaimed, leaning back in to get a better look at him. “You’re like smaller than my finger,” she added, holding her index finger next to him.

“I’m guessing you are Clarice,” he said.

She nodded. “And you are?” she countered.

“Jack. Jack Dalton.”

Clarice laughed. “You must’ve really messed up to wind up like this.”

“Break and enter, not unlike your little operation here, except I ran into Clare and Angela. Poof,” he said, spreading wide his arms.

“This is quite a predicament Jack Dalton,” she said, climbing onto the bed and sprawling belly first so that her face was close to him.

“It’s definitely some strange fucked up shit,” he replied, detecting a hint of cherry from her lip gloss.

“Look at all your tats, you’re like a little badass aren’t you?” she asked poking at him gently with her finger.

“Not nearly as badass as I thought this time yesterday,” he replied ruefully, feebly pushing her finger away.

“You’re lucky it was Clare and Angela who found you. Situation could’ve been a whole nastier for you,” she supplied with a whistle. The memory of Tony came fresh to his mind.

“Situation could be a whole lot better, if you catch my drift.”

“If Hilde or my mom had caught you…” she let out a low whistle.

“It’s ok, I already had the pleasure of meeting Hilde,” he replied.

“Hmm,” she started, seeming to ponder, tapping her right index finger against her cheek.

“Hmm what?”

“What might it be worth, if, say, someone could remedy this situation?” she asked. “Hypothetically speaking.”

He paused. “Come again?” he asked, daring to hope.

“Just saying someone in your position might be, shall we say, financially grateful for assistance in this particular circumstance,” she said, eyebrow raised slightly.

“The type of gratuity would depend on the nature of the assistance,” he countered.

“Full restoration,” she said with a devious smile.

“What kind of financial compensation might that be worth?” he asked.

“That depends on what the service is worth to you,” she responded.

“Ten thousand,” he answered.

“Dollars?’ she asked, eyes wide, the number eclipsing what she had been thinking.

“Today. Restore me and together we can go to my apartment and I will give you ten thousand dollars cash,” he offered.

“Yeah right,” she replied, “because everybody has ten grand stuffed in their mattress at home.”

“I do,” he said matter of fact. “It’s yours.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, contemplating. Completed whatever mental process she had been undertaking, her face lit up. “Deal, but if you’re fucking with me, I can be a real bitch,” she cautioned.

Jack remained calm, though his inner voice was hooting and hollering at the thought of being restored. He closed his eyes and spread his arms, waiting for the magic to wash him.

“Not here dummy. My mom’s right in the other room. We’ll both be in a shitload of trouble if she catches us,” she warned.

Picking him up, she moved him toward her chest. He started to protest. She said, “If I put you in my pants pocket, chances are you’ll get crushed the moment I sit down. This is the safest place.” She tucked him in her bra next to her cell phone. Laying against the smooth flesh, he could hear the rhythm of her heartbeat, her fragrance reminded him of cotton candy. From his vantage he could also peek out enough to see where they were going. He remained hidden while she made her way to the garage.

“We’re in the clear,” she whispered clandestinely as she climbed into a bright yellow corvette stingray.

Opening the garage door, she started the car and put on an oversized pair of DG sunglasses. Her driving left something to be desired, he wasn’t sure they were going to reach his place before she killed them both. He hung onto the edge of her bra as tightly as he could.

Once they arrived outside his apartment, he said, “Better restore me now, I’ll go scope it out, make sure no one is here.”

“Uh no,” she replied, removing the sunglasses.

“Be careful then,” he cautioned.

“Please,” she said, stretching the word out.

The door was closed, but not locked. “That’s probably not a good sign,” she said, leaning in close to the door to listen for movement inside the apartment. Hearing nothing she slowly opened the door and peaked in. The place had been ransacked. Jack wasn’t surprised.

“Maid’s day off?” she asked.

“Courtesy call from the outfit,” he replied.

“If there’s no ten grand here…” she warned with a stern tone.

“Relax,” he said, guiding her through the apartment to the closet in the master bedroom. He instructed to clear out the floor and pointed to the hidden catch popping loose a floor board. Inside the hollow space was a small metal case.

“It’s locked,” he said, “I don’t have the key with me.”

She touched it and there was an audible click. Opening the case, her eyes grew round. “There must be like fifty large in here,” she exclaimed, pulling out multiple bundles of cash.

“We agreed on ten,” he said warily.

“Realistically though, I could take it all, and simply throw you back on Clare’s bed,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

He hadn’t thought about that. “True,” he acknowledged, “I didn’t think you might fuck me over.”

She paused a moment then sighed. Plucking him from her cleavage she set him on the bed. She snapped her fingers, and he felt himself expanding, the sensation was not pleasant but neither was it too painful. He stood for a moment, flexing muscles and gaining his footing before suddenly feeling awkward and naked in front of this girl

“We cool?” she asked, taking a step back, roll of cash in her hand.

He held out his right hand, “A fair bargain struck.”

Stepping forward, cautiously, she placed her hand in his mitt and shook it. Releasing it, she took a moment to give him the once over, a mischievous grin on her pretty face. “Not bad,” she commented as she backed out of the room and out of the apartment.

Sibling rivalry

Together, Clare and the twins returned to the estate. Angelica growing increasingly more curious about the diminutive Jack Dalton after the stories shared by the other two during the drive back.

Pulling onto the estate, Clare exchanged glances with the other women as she pulled to a stop next to her mother’s Guards Red Porsche 918 Spyder.

“My mother’s home,” Clare said solemnly.

Getting out of Clare’s car, the three women remained quiet as they entered the house.

At an even six feet in height, Clarissa Heller cut an imposing image, attired in a form fitting white blouse accentuating her rather large and perfectly shaped breasts. The blouse tapered at her slender waist where it was tucked into a black, snug, knee length skirt slit up the leg. She possessed a classic hourglass shape, though a tad heavier at bust than hips. Perfectly coiffed dark hair, slightly wavy framed her beautiful face. Hers was a timeless beauty, mature, but possessing all the vitality of youth. Her large green eyes, the color of polished malachite, settled on the girls as they entered the house. Ripe full lips, equipped with a disarming natural sensuality, parted into a smile.

“Hello girls,” she said, voice rich and warm. Opening her arms for a hug. She received the twins together, before hugging her daughter.

 “Mother. You’re back early,” mumbled Clare, disengaging from the embrace, panic gnawing at her as she wondered if Jack had left the safety of her room.

“Given recent developments here, I thought it prudent to return,” she advised.

“How was your trip?” Clare asked.

“Abbreviated,” replied Clarissa with a soft shrug.

“I think Hilde pretty much has everything under control at the moment,” Clare added.

“Yes, she’s been keeping me apprised of the situation as it continues to develop,” Clarissa shared with a warm smile.

“Well, as you can see everything is ok, we’re just going to go to my room.”

“All right then dear, you girls behave yourselves,” Clarissa said.

The trio retired to Clare’s room, closing the door behind for privacy. Once in the bedroom, Clare immediately scanned the bed for Jack’s tiny form. Not seeing him, she wondered if maybe her mother’s untimely arrival had startled him and he had hidden himself.

“Jack?” she called softly. Watching carefully for any sign of movement anywhere on the bed.

“Jack?” Angela called this time, getting down low to look beneath the bed in case he had accidently fallen.

Clare, a little more frantic, began to gently pull the blankets back and move the pillows, but still there was no sign of Jack.

“Does your mother know about Jack?” asked Angela.

“Hilde wouldn’t conceal it from her,” Clare answered.

“You would think if she did something or held him for determination she would have said something,” Angela added.

“Smells a little like cotton candy in here,” said Angelica sniffing at the air.

Clare suddenly stopped. “Clarice,” she said.

Marching to her sister’s room, Clare was disappointed to find it empty. Next, she looked in the garage and saw her sister’s car gone. Pulling her cell phone out, she called Clarice’s cell, “Pick up Clarice,” she ordered. No response.

Next she dialed Hilde’s number. The connection went through. “I require your assistance. I know. I believe Clarice has absconded with Jack and I would like to have him back please. I see. Thank you. Yes mother is here at the house. He will need to be disciplined. Yes. Thank you,” she said for her side of the conversation.

“She says she will investigate the situation,” Clare said, addressing the twins.

The getaway

After Clarice had gone, he decided to clean himself up. He grabbed a shave then hopped in the shower to get rid of the strong perfume smell he picked up from Clarice. His mind drifted back to the surreal experience of the shower he shared with Clare and Angela. Once done, he toweled off and selected a suit still hanging up in the bedroom closet. After dressing, he stuffed the balance of his little strongbox into his pockets. Reaching into the hole in the floorboard, he grabbed the pistol there, checked it, and tucked it into the belt at the small of his back. He picked up the suitcase from the floor and laid it on the bed. “Time to get out of Dodge,” he mumbled under his breath.

When he walked into the living room from the bedroom, Jack gave a start. The woman named Hildegarde sat on his couch, hands in her lap, head slightly tilted as if evaluating him. Her purse on the couch beside her. He held his hands up at chest level, fingers spread and smiled a big friendly smile.

“Hilde isn’t it?” he asked, practiced smile still on his face, he was bigger than her now, he contemplated, but that hadn’t help him with the other two women. The uncertainty made him wary, cautious.

“I thought we had an understanding Mr. Dalton, there is no escape from your situation,” she said, no rancor or malice, just direct and to the point. “The pistol in the rear of your trousers, please set it on the table if you would,” she instructed.

“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” he replied, moving slowly and openly, he removed the pistol from his pants and set it on the table, then stepped away.

“There are consequences to such actions,” she informed, slight frown on her face.

Pointing at the bottle of liquor lying on the floor in front of his liquor cabinet, “May I?”

“By all means,” she allowed.

Picking up a tumbler, he blew inside the glass to get any debris out, looking over his shoulder, “You want one?”

“No thank you, I may share some of yours later though,” she answered, ghost of smile on her very pretty face. Connecting the dots, meaning if she consumed him, she would in turn share some of the whiskey he consumed, that didn’t sound good.

He nodded and poured himself a half glass. Capping the bottle he sat down in the armchair facing the couch and took a pull off the glass, savoring the warmth the whiskey left in its wake. “I am curious,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“About?”

“I can understand the gemstone, but why a stupid hairbrush?” he asked.

Hilde laughed lightly. “A fair question I suppose, maybe one you should have considered before accepting the contract. The stone has significant value of course, beyond mere dollars, the hairbrush is a foolish attempt to try and acquire materials with which to bind my employer. A situation we will be remedying soon,” she avowed.

“Like some voodoo shit?” he asked, taking another sip.

“In terms you might understand, that analogy is sufficient,” she acknowledged, smoothing the fabric of her skirt in her lap.

“Are you a witch?” he asked, eyes narrowed, “the girls a part of some coven or something?”

She smiled broadly, “Or something,” she replied.

Tipping the glass back, he emptied it and swallowed. Placing the glass down of the coffee table, he flashed her a smile, “No time like the present. I guess we should get this over with.” He stood up. “Don’t suppose you’re the sporting type?”

“I admire your aplomb Mr. Dalton, I must say it has been refreshing dealing with you,” she replied, also rising to her feet.

“Arm wrestle?” he asked, miming the motion with his right arm. “Fisticuffs?”

She smiled and pointed her left index finger at him. His world begin to spin. The transition was less disorienting the second time around, he extricated himself from the tangled folds of his clothes. He waited while she walked over, the booze was giving him that glow. She crouched down and gathered him up in her hand. Bringing him in close to her face, she smiled and touched the tip of her tongue to her lips.

“Sleep,” she whispered, and he was asleep.

Action, corrective reaction

When Jack awoke, he was lying in the center of a large bed, king, queen, it was too big for him to determine. The blanket on which he lay was plush with some type of pattern of image, but he was too near the pattern to identify the picture. When he looked beyond the boundary of the foot of the bed, Hilde was standing there when, hands on hips. She was naked, body magnificent. Perfectly proportioned, lithe and taut like something feral. A tattoo of brilliantly colored flowers started at her left hip and curled up her side. Her sex was smooth, a gold ring through her clit. He did not recognize the décor of the room, but thought it must be her bedroom.

“You going to eat me?” he asked, pulling himself to standing, feet sinking slightly into the blanket.

“My instructions were not particularly explicit,” wicked grin on her face.

“Hmm, maybe we should,” he started when she pounced on the bed, the force sufficient enough to bounce him several inches, feet to him, up off the blanket and into the air. Twisting, he hit the blanket running straight toward the stack of pillows. On all fours she stalked him, gold eyes intense. Leaning her head down, she licked at him as he ran. He deked left then right, she swatted at him, knocking him down. Rolling from the blow, he came back up and altered direction, heading in the opposite direction of the pillows, passed her pendulous breasts and toward the space between her knees. Rearing back, she sat back down on her knees, feeling him just brush against her naked sex and anus. Pivoting she grabbed at him, but he circled around her other side, careful not to get pulled into the well her weight caused on the material. Twisting the other way, she cuffed at him again, sending him for a tumble. Again he darted toward the pillows, closer now. He remembered the incident on the table, twenty paces, he altered direction to the right then veered left again. He could feel her moving, the whole bed shook, making it hard for him to keep his feet. Almost there, he changed direction again, as she sprawled on the bed where he would been, back to the pillows, she rolled, the tangle of her hair tripped him up. Reaching down, he tried to use his hand to keep from falling. Lunging he dove between the pillows. His breath coming in pants and sweat on his brow, he felt the pillow being pulled away. She sat up into a kneeling position looking down at him, an amused expression. He maintained no illusions, he was at her mercy now. She snatched him and slurped him into her mouth. Tossing him around, she pinned him to the roof of her mouth and swallowed. He could feel her tongue undulate, releasing him, she swallowed again, this time he was drawn into her throat, but she caught herself and forced him back up into her mouth. Drawing him out, she used him to stimulate herself, breasts, the split in her pubis, her tight anus. He was unceremonious pushed completely into her vagina. He knew she was moving because he felt like he couldn’t orient up from down. When next she settled, he could see light. He felt something hard pushing at him, driving him deeper into her, glass. She was using a glass toy. The glass allowed diffuse light to illuminate the inside of her velvet femininity. Everything became slick. She experienced an orgasm, pussy convulsing. He struggled toward the opening, but couldn’t get passed the glass object imbedded in her. When she drew it out, the vacuum created by the suction pulled him partially along, his head emerging from her vagina, He gasped and sputtered, but found he was held firmly. She continued to stroke her exposed clit, sliding her fingers down the groove and pushing him back inside. This continued until she had another orgasm. Pulling him out, she pushed him head first into her rectum. With some effort and persistence, he was inserted into her ass. As with her pussy she used the glass toy to pleasure herself. He thought for sure she would drive him into her colon.

Finally his consciousness drifted away leaving him only vaguely aware of what was happening, like some distant spectator. Again and again she used him to her delight until at last he lapsed fully into the darkness.

His experiences with the girls paled to the appetite of this woman. He felt like a wrung out dish rag. His right arm was broken between shoulder and elbow. His left shoulder was dislocated. The fingers on his left hand also broken. Several ribs felt cracked and it was hard to breath. His right ankle was also broken.

He looked up. She was standing beside the bed looking back down at him, dressed similarly to when he first saw her. The hint of the smile on her face looked amused.

“You should’ve let me take a run at you full size,” he croaked, glossy from her pleasure, “I could’ve tamed you.”

“That Mr. Dalton remains to be seen. This union, while a lesson for you, was very rewarding for me,” her voice soft. “I look forward to your next indiscretion, I will not be so gentle with you.”

She scooped him up, he grit his teeth to prevent from screaming. She put him into a small case and snapped it shut. Every movement burned agony into him as she dropped the case into her purse and he tumbled within.

Starting over

Clare and the twins were seated in her room when Hilde arrived. She presented Clare the case containing Jack’s battered body. “He is a little shaken up and may require some healing,” she said. She smiled at the case, “An excellent selection of plaything.” Clare took the case.

“He has been ‘disciplined’?” asked Angela.

Hilde smiled, leaving little doubt discipline.

“What about Clarice?” Angela asked.

“I shall see to her,” replied Hilde. Nodding at the girls, she left the room.

Cracking open the lid, Clare and the girls peeked in. Jack looked a mess, his breathing ragged, right arm off at an angle.

“Oh, that doesn’t look good,” commented Angelica, a concerned look on her face. Jack roused at the sound of voices, opening a bleary eye to try and locate the speaker.

“You should see the other guy,” he said, voice hoarse.

Angela chuckled.

“You brought this on yourself Jack,” Clare chastised, looking sternly down upon his shattered form. “I don’t know why you fled?”

“I took the chance because we both know it’s inevitable. At some point, no matter how you feel right now, you’re going to get bored of these little games, then what? Into your belly I go?” he nodded weakly to Clare. “Yours?” to Angela. He paused, puzzled, looking at Angelica, and blinking a couple of times.

“This is Angelica, my sister” introduced Angela seeing where he had locked his gaze.

“Awesome,” he said with a sigh.

As carefully as she could, Clare eased him out of the case, holding his broken little body in the palm of her right hand, she looked down to him.

“There is something you need to understand Jack. You participated in a conspiracy directed at my mother and there are repercussions associated to that involvement. For now, the life you had is done, over. For right now, you are here, each breath you draw is now a gift, another moment you exist. Don’t fret about tomorrow, focus on today.”

“That sounds fucking ominous. Is there something else I should know” he said with a grimace as he tried to roll to face Clare.

“Some of the other conspirators, those still alive, have been rounded up and are awaiting a determination,” she said

“Hilde mentioned a determination, what is that?” he asked, a cold feeling in the marrow of his bones.

“A determination is a judgment of innocence or guilt. As the aggrieved, my mother will decide culpability and impose a sentence,” Clare provided.

“So what happens when I’m found guilty,” he asked, no illusions.

“If I had to guess, given the number of people involved, I think she would sanction a hunt,” she offered.

“What do I need to know about this hunt?” he asked.

“You will be released into some form of an arena to fend for yourself,” answered Angela.

“Battle Royale, last man standing? Against other guilty people, No worries, I can take care of myself,” he added.

“Against us,” supplied Clare softly, looking to each of the twins before looking back to Jack.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Clare nodded, but hastily added, “For the moment, Hilde has allowed us to retain custody of you, but soon she will come to collect you for the determination.”

“When?” he asked

“Shortly, when the balance of the conspirators are brought low, a day, two perhaps,” she replied.

“So I got like a day or two, then this determination,” he clarified. “Then hunted down and killed by ornery giant girls. Sweet,” he said facetiously.

Clare placed her left hand over her right, sandwiching him between her hands. He felt an odd tingling sensation, painful at first as bones re-aligned and knitted, torn muscle mended.

He felt so tired, but the pain was gone.

“You’ll have to catch…me…first,” he whispered, voice so low it was barely audible to the women. His little body shuddered in her hands, then he fell dead asleep. Holding her hands out, she offered him to Angelica. Carefully she passed his still form over. Angelica received him both hands and then shifted him to her right hand. Bringing her hand up near to her face she examined him.

“Hunt or not, he is hot, in that badass kind of way,” Angelica offered, a big smile look on her face, she caressed him softly.

“I know,” added Angela, “he’s just so cute.”

“He’s going to need some rest if he’s to be of use later on,” Clare said.

“It’s worth the wait,” cooed Angela.

Angelica set him down gently, as she might a delicate bird, near the pillow.

They took one more look and left the room.

Hilde and the lawyer

He was located on the fifteenth floor of a prominent office building downtown. Getting out of the elevator, she paused a moment to admire the view of the city from this altitude. Slight smile on her face, she walked up the reception desk. “I’m here to see Mr. Edwards,” she said to the woman neatly dressed in business attire. She was attractive, but her youth was fleeting and she used too much make up to conceal her battle with time.

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the receptionist, tone haughty.

“No,” Hilde replied with a perfunctory smile.

“Mr. Edwards is very busy, if you would like to make an appointment we may be able to get you in later this week, perhaps early next,” she said, an over inflated sense of self-importance bleeding through her words.

“I will see him now,” returned Hilde. She started walking toward the office door bearing his name on a gold plate to the left of the doorway.

The receptionist jumped up and tried to interject herself between Hilde and the door. “I’m sorry ma’am, Mr. Edwards is currently in with a client.”

Hilde paused and leveled her amber eyes on the woman. “Do not lie for him. He is not worth the pain he brings on you,” she said, gaze unflinching.

The receptionist lowered her eyes.

“This shan’t take long,” Hilde stated. Turning, she walked up to the door and opened it. The office behind was superb. Corner office with floor to ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Bookshelves lined one of the interior walls, expensive art hung on the other one. The man behind the desk was dressed in a pale orange silk shirt and dark orange tie, suspenders and suit pants. He appeared fortyish silver creeping into the hair of his four hundred dollar haircut.

“Good afternoon Mr. Edwards, my name is Hildegarde,” she introduced, closing the door behind her.

He rose from the desk as she walked closer. “Do we have an appointment?” he asked, practiced smile on his tanned face.

“No,” she replied.

“I didn’t catch your last name,” he said, walking out from behind the desk to greet her and extending his right hand.

“I didn’t give it, it’s irrelevant anyway. I am interested in a Lucien Delacroix,” she said, accepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her hand and circling back around his desk before indicating a chair for her to sit.

 Sitting, “Please don’t play coy with me Mr. Edwards, we both know you’re obviously his representative,” she admonished.

He sat, “That name doesn’t ring any bells, and even if it did, I’m afraid that would fall under attorney client confidentiality,” he said, same practiced smile on his face.

“Let me be direct,” she started, “Mr. Delacroix has made certain arrangements pertaining to my employer, you facilitated those arrangements. I am not overly interested in you, however, you will tell me where I will find him.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, smile replaced by an apologetic look on his face.

“How might I convey the import of my necessity?” she asked, rising to standing.

He stood and shrugged. ”Again I’m sorry, my hands are tied. Should anything change, I’ll be sure to let you know, just give your information to Michelle on the way out.”

“This is an impressive view from this height,” she said, looking beyond him out the windows of his office.

“Yes,” he replied with a plastic smile, offering his hand.

She lifted her hand, opened it so that it faced him. Closing her hand, she moved it forward and it seemed as if an invisible force mirrored the motions of her hand as he was picked up and slammed against the glass. She pushed her hand forward a bit more and he felt the pressure as the windows threated to explode outward.

“Wait,” he breathed.

“For what Mr. Edwards?” she asked, pulling her hand forward and slamming it toward the ground, he was pulled off the glass and slammed on top of his elaborate oak desk.

“Delacroix, I’ll tell you where he is,” he gasped.

“Excellent,” she said, releasing him from the force and re-seating herself. “Though I must say I am somewhat disappointed by the haste with which you’ve overturned your professional convictions.” Her thoughts drifted back to Jack.

“He is a very dangerous man,” warned the lawyer, climbing off the desk and bringing her back to the moment.

“I am more dangerous,” she answered coolly.

“Mr. Delacroix has a couple of holdings locally,” he said

“You will provide me an address for them,” she stated.

“Of course. I will need to access the computer,” he said, pointing at the computer on the desk, eyes still wild and full of fear.

She smiled and inclined her head by way of assent.

The printer near the wall jumped to life as it produced the information she required.

“My only concern now Mr. Edwards, how do I ensure that once I’m gone, you do not alert Mr. Delacroix to the fact that I am looking for him?” she questioned.

“You could pay me a retainer, then it will become attorney client privilege,” he offered.

“Except you’ve already demonstrated your willingness to breach that trust given minimal motivation, leaving you here may prove to be a risky proposition for my endeavor Mr. Edwards.”

“I can assure you,” he started but she cut him off.

“You can assure me nothing other than you will do whatever is necessary to protect your own interests,” she interjected.

“I don’t know how you did what you did, I would never betray you I swear,” he wheedled.

An amused smile touched her lips. “I know,” she said.

He let out a breath of relief then she shrank him.

As she had seen with others many times before, the tiny frightened man lay there bewildered, unable to fathom what had just transpired. Bending at the knee, she gathered him in her right hand and lifted him upward, setting his tiny form on his desk. For him, the new vantage of the surface of his desk possessed an entirely different landscape. Like a deer in the headlights of an onrushing car, he stood there transfixed by the tremendous beauty towering over him.

Moving forward, Hilde picked up the telephone from the cradle and pressed the receptionist’s button. “I want you to cancel the rest of my day,” she said, her voice an exact duplicate of the lawyers.

He looked up at her, still agog. She hung up the phone.

“Wha…” he trailed off, seemingly lost.

She slammed her hand down upon the desk with a loud clap. “Mr. Edwards, I realize the situation may somewhat disconcerting to you, but I would like you to focus.”

Suddenly he collapsed onto his knees. “Oh my god, what’s happening,” he sobbed.

“Truly? Compose yourself, show some courage, this is embarrassing,” she reprimanded. Again Jack Dalton sprang to her mind.

“Please, please,” he begged, walking on knees hands clasped before him.

Hilde frowned. She reached into the small purse she carried and removed a small case. Opening it, she gathered him up and placed him inside. Closing the case she returned it to her purse. Next, she shrank his clothes down and dropped them into her purse.

Waving a quick hand in front of herself, she paused a moment to evaluate her reflection the glass window. She looked exactly like Thomas Edwards, right down to the phony smile. Exiting the office, she met Michelle’s questioning gaze.

“Tom?” she asked, puzzled expression still on her face, half rising from her desk.

Hilde stopped and raised her hand. “Re-schedule the balance of my week, I won’t be in,” she instructed in the voice of the lawyer.

“Okay,” answered Michelle.

Turning, Hilde left the office and walked to the elevator.

Once in the underground parkade, it didn’t take long for her to find the silver Mercedes SLS AMG with vanity plates reading ’LGL EGL’. A quick nod of her head reduced the roadster to the size of a toy. Gathering up the automobile, she allowed the guise to fall and she once more resembled herself. She climbed into her own car and set the Mercedes on her passenger seat. Starting her vehicle, she pulled the seatbelt over her shoulder and exited the parking lot.

Clarice

Clarice poked her head into Clare’s bedroom. Jack, dressed in sport shorts and a muscle t-shirt sat on the bed leaning back against a pillow. Remote control for the television bigger than him set by his side.

“Clare’s not here,” he said.

“What you doing?” she asked, walking in.

“Watching a movie,” he answered. “You?”

“Nothing. Bored. I got grounded, and Hilde took my ten grand away.”

“Boo fucking hoo. I’m the size of a bloody smurf, we all got problems princess,” he answered wryly.

She giggled, “That’s funny. Princess. “

Jack favored her with an odd look. “Why is it funny?”

“Because I really am a princess. Princess of the Blood,” she added, inclining her head a poked her nose in the air in mock fashion.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Do you know where they went?” she asked.

“Don’t know,” he answered with a shrug, eyes still on the television. “Out? There was no one here when I woke up. Your sister and her friends have a habit of knocking the shit out of me on a regular basis.”

She looked at the screen. “Ooh I love this one,” she said, coming around the bed and plopping down beside him, causing him to bounce upward in the air.

“Hey, little consideration here. When you fling yourself up in the air like Hulk Hogan doing a leg drop, your giant ass causes an earthquake!”

“Giant ass? I’ll have you know I have a remarkable ass,” she said lifting the buttock closest to him and giving it a slap.

“You are as big as a brontosaurus. Everything on you, from this point of view, is giant.”

Reaching down she gathered him up and set him on her left shoulder. “It’s hard to hear you over the movie,” she said.

“What did you eat?” he asked, scrunching up his face and leaning away from her head.

“Salad,” she answered, perplexed look on her face.

“Like what? A shit salad? You need a mint,” he said, making a ‘yuck’ face.

“It was a Caesar salad. You should be thankful it wasn’t an annoying little dude salad,” she said gnashing teeth at him playfully.

“What is the deal with that anyway shrinking people and,” he put his hand to his mouth, “you know, scoffing them down?”

Ignoring the question, “My birthday is coming up, you can come to my party if you want,” she offered with a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s what I want, gaggle to teenage girls squealing and talking about hair and what tampon works best, and all this while being the size of a disposable lighter. What could possibly go wrong?” he rolled his eyes again.

She laughed, unintentionally causing him to fall forward onto the swell of her breast. Twisting, he was able to catch himself on the top edge of her tube top.

“Oops,” she said, taking him in her hand and depositing him back on her shoulder.

“Careful there giggles,” he commented. “Giggles cause jiggles.”

“Then don’t make me laugh,” she countered, poking at him with an elaborately painted nail. He tried to fend off her finger but slipped again, this time falling head first and landing in the cleavage of her firm breasts. She giggled again and pressed her breasts together, pinning her between the fleshy mounds.

When she released the pressure, he sputtered for air while struggling to right himself. She squeezed her breasts together again, pinning his body so only his head and shoulders protruded from the pillowy prison. Pushing her breasts upward, he was brought closer to her mouth where she peppered him with a half dozen little playful kisses.

“Gah!” he exclaimed, “Garlic breath!”

She laughed, causing her bosom to shake. Leaning in again, she planted a giant wet kiss on his whole head.

“Ugh, no fair!” he cried, unable to wipe the saliva from his face. Moving closer, she snaked out her tongue and licked at his face, he thrashed futilely against the force holding him fast. Looking up into her face he detected the change, subtle, but he had seen it before with other women. She was no longer playing, her pilot light had lit and now the furnace was warming up. He knew he needed to stop this before it went any further. She was a gorgeous girl, but she was still just a girl and he wasn’t wired that way.

Removing him from her cleavage, she changed her position on the bed so that she was lying on her back. She lowered him directly onto her lips, mouth closed.

Standing upright, left foot on her upper lip, right foot on her lower, his footing precarious as she wore some form of gloss making her lips slippery. “Listen, we can’t…” he started.

She opened her mouth slightly, the motion almost causing him to lose his balance. “Hold it Clarice,” he cautioned.

She snaked her tongue out and licked at him. It was all he could do to steady himself. “Stop!” he cried, but she opened her mouth further, he twisted to the side, but caught himself, hands now on her upper lip, feet on her lower, he was facedown over her open mouth, gazing practically right down her throat. Her breath was hot as she pushed him up with her tongue, dislodging his hold so that he was completely on her tongue. Opening her mouth wider still, she lowered her tongue and him along with it into her mouth. All the turbulent motion disoriented him, he couldn’t tell up from down as he was buffeted around the inside of her mouth.

Scooting back into a semi-seated position, she opened her mouth and allowed him to slide out onto her chest much as Angela had done earlier. Shakily he stood and faced her. “Look you’re a great kid, really you are, but you don’t want to do this,” he said, taking the direct approach.

“But I do,” she said with an affirmative nod of her head.

“Sweetheart, you’re still just seventeen,” he stated.

“What difference does a week make?” she asked.

“To me it is a world of difference. Eighteen you’re fair game. Seventeen means hands off,” he supplied, voice empathetic.

“Is it because you only have eyes for Clare. Everyone only sees Clare, it’s like living in her shadow,” protested Clarice, a pout on her plump lower lip.

“You are a beautiful young woman and you aren’t standing in your sister’s shadow. You radiate bright enough all on your own,” he said reassuringly.

She removed him from her breasts and set him down on the bed beside her. He could see her eyes welling up.

“Oh darlin’,” he said, wishing he was his normal size so he could wrap comforting arms about her. “A week will blaze by in no time,” he re-assured.

“Then I will have you,” she stated, a slow smile blossoming on her young face.

“We’ll see what the future holds,” he said with a smile, bomb diffused, for the moment. He certainly did not want to get caught between the two sisters.

She grabbed him up quick and hugged him fairly tightly to her chest the returned him to the bed. “Good talk,” she said, hopping up from the bed and exiting the room.

He shook his head. “Chicks,” he mumbled.

Twins and Clare

“You two weren’t plotting another escape I trust,” Clare said, gliding into the room followed by the twins.

“Your friend Hilde was very emphatic in her instruction about the consequence of escape,” replied Jack tartly.

“That was really nice what you said to Clarice. Though I’m sure she derives some twisted pleasure from antagonizing me, she is still my baby sister,” Clare said sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Speaking of twisted pleasure, I’m guessing you brought Blondie’s photocopy here to see what all the fuss was about,” he said, eyeing her up and down and letting out a slow whistle.

Angelica chuckled softly, “Bit of a smart ass.”

“Come here,” whispered Clare, taking Angelica’s face in her hands and kissing her on the mouth.

“I’m going to leave the three of you to it,” said Angela, slipping out the door and closing it behind.

Clare guided Angelica over to the bed, laying her on her back, Clare straddled her hips in the mount position. Tenderly they caressed each other’s skin, stomachs and sides, breasts and thighs. Sitting back, Clare looked over at Jack and extended her hand toward him. She smiled. He climbed into her hand, she closed her fingers around his legs so his torso was free. Bringing him to her face, she kissed him, then licked him from navel to the top of his head. She brought him down and traced the swell of Angelica’s breast, using him like she might a feather, teasing her. She brushed him lightly across first one, then the other of Angelica’s pert rosy nipples. Next she drew him across Angelica’s lips, pulling back a little when she parted them. Again to the lips, this time lingering long enough for Angelica to touch him with the tip of her tongue. Clare caressed Angelica’s face with her free hand. Pulling down on her chin, Clare opened Angelica’s mouth and set Jack inside. He eased in head first. Gently Angelica swirled him around with her tongue, savoring him, massaging him then he felt the second tongue, Clare’s tongue, as the women shared a deep French kiss, caressing each other, caressing him. He felt himself drawn up into Clare’s mouth. When next she opened it, it was around one of Angelica’s nipples. Moving him and her tongue across the excited flesh. Clare closed her mouth around him again, he could feel her moving. When next the mouth opened it was over Angelica’s vagina. Then the women switched positions and he was in Angelica’s mouth as she stimulated Clare’s pussy and licked at her clitoris. Clare took him back and pushing Angelica back down, she slid Jack into Angelica’s pussy feet first, only his head remained visible, then she began to lap at the slippery pleasure spot. Using her middle finger, Clare pushed Jack into Angelica. Angelica moaned. They took turns using him to stimulate each other easing him in and out of swollen sexes, pausing momentarily to suck the sweet juice from his flesh before inserting him again. He climaxed, he lost count of the number. Delirious, he passed out.

The Conspirators

Samuel Halston III was of middle years, lean and fit. His thinning hair held a hint of its former dark color, the rest surrendering to silver. Descended from a long line of aristocrats, he possessed an aura of self-confidence bordering on arrogance a lifetime of privilege had instilled in him. Despite this demeanor, he possessed a natural charisma that drew others to him.

At the age of 7, while at the summer home, he had drowned but was revived. This event, which would later be called a ‘near death experience’, had a profound effect on him. He devoted his life to the exploration of esotericism and the occult. Money granted him access to veiled societies and secret fraternities, but it wasn’t enough, he wanted more. The pursuit took him all over the world, through forgotten museums and ancient archaeological explorations. In his mid-twenties he met Lorraine, two years his junior, and he fell in love. Within a year the two were married. She shared his passion for the pursuit of knowledge, but when she became pregnant with their first child morning sickness and ill health limited her ability to follow her husband on his travels. Samuel Halston IV was born while senior was away, in fact senior would not return until his new son was almost one. In his travels, he had found something, what it was, he would not say to Lorraine, but he was different, more remote, gone was the cavalier youth intent on exploring mysteries of the world, replaced with a dour ill-tempered man, prone to fits of anger. No longer did he gallivant around the globe, instead isolating himself in his massive library at home, a distant husband and father. He began drawing others to him, sophists and mystics, building a following of sorts.

Six years after Samuel IV, Lorraine provided him another son, William. The pregnancy had been hard on her. Two years later, she would die in childbirth bringing a daughter, Abigail, into the world. If Samuel III mourned, none knew. He placed responsibility for his children in the hands of governesses and nannies.

As the following continued to expand, the group organized, calling themselves Disciples of the Hidden Path. Under his guidance, the group continued to grow in numbers. He developed a hierarchy within the group, establishing structure and rank. In the span of two decades, numbers in the group blossomed to nearly one thousand. He held the title Grandmaster Thaumaturge with all others being subordinate to him. Beneath him in standing were 27 disciples called Adherents. The Adherents were further divided into 3 levels of authority, each made up of nine members. Paramount amongst the Adherents was Lucien Delacroix, Samuel’s right hand. Dedicants and Applicants compromised the remainder of the organization.

It was during this time Samuel’s passion was re-ignited. One of the lesser dedicants, during routine archival research accidently stumbled across an ancient entry mentioning the existence of three ancient gems called Lapidibus de Potentia, stones of power. Possession of any of the stones was said to imbue the owner with incredible power. Samuel became obsessed with the stones, dedicating the vast majority of his resources trying to locate any one of them. Investigations eventually turned up information of a possible candidate. Through a documented private sale, a stone fitting the specifications of the black stone was delivered into the hands of Clarissa Heller, magnate of international conglomerate Heller International.

Using surreptitious means, he initiated an investigation into all elements of her life in an effort to divine the possible location of said stone. The more deeply his investigation delved, the more convinced he became she had used the stone to found her financial empire with the stone itself conveying some measure of power to her personally. He was absolutely convinced that without it she would be vulnerable. He wanted that stone for himself. Further, he wanted her empire.

To gain her empire, he needed to first strip her of the stone, then use magic to bind her to his will. There were spells and incantations that could be used to bind the woman, but to perform those rituals, he needed something of her, some portion of her DNA to enslave her to him.

The lengthy investigation provided a fairly concise picture of her personal movements, and he knew that acquiring the items he sought would undoubtedly be protected by advanced security systems. What he needed were professionals who could slip in and out undetected with the required items. He assigned the task of finding such professionals to Lucien Delacroix.

Lucien contacted criminal defense attorney Thomas Edwards as a means of finding the right people to get the job done. Thomas possessed connection to organized crime elements with the kind of skills required to get the task done before the woman was even aware it had happened. Using information procured through the clandestine investigation, Lucien relayed the information to Thomas Edwards, who in turn shuttled it to an outfit underboss named Cyrus Creel. Everything seemed to be perfect, except that the man appointed the task entered the house and never returned, he simply vanished. His own people watching from a safe distance, reported the man entered the estate and did not come out. Lucien understood the operation was now potentially exposed and the window of opportunity was very small and dwindling. He immediately authorized a second attempt, using money to allay any concerns over the initial failure. He was buoyed when Edwards advised him a professional freelancer was going make the second attempt. Lucien stipulated he wanted one of the outfit’s men to tag along to prevent the freelancer from potentially absconding with the goods.

As before, he assigned two men to watch from afar the efforts to retrieve the stone. The two observers documented everything they saw. They watched the initial penetration into the estate, the arrival of a car containing two female passengers, the entry of the second man, the arrival and departure of a second vehicle. As the sun came up the second day and there was no evidence the hired men had exited the house, they abandoned the task.

Lucien updated Samuel. Samuel was bitterly angry. His first impulse was too take steps to eliminate any threads linking the Disciples of the Hidden Path to the attempt. There were several cuts to the chain. First one of the thieves had to talk, then the outfit, then the lawyer before they ever got to Lucien. He also contemplated having Lucien put to death, but decided against the measure figuring Lucien may still have some value alive.

Within hours, communication was lost with the lawyer, Samuel presumed the entire enterprise had been exposed and he now needed to establish damage control measures.

Clarice

Clarice was ecstatic, her eighteenth birthday had arrived. The festivities included an intimate gathering of the women in her coven and a few close friends. The revelry lasted well into the evening.

At the end of the celebration, Clare approached her and handed her a small case wrapped in a pretty satin bow.

“For you to borrow for the night,” Clare said, grin on her face.

“Is this what I think it is?” asked Clarice eagerly.

“Be careful with him, he is small and fragile,” advised the elder sister.

Full of glee, Clarice vanished into the house. She spent a few moments preparing herself for the wonders ahead. When she opened the case, he held a hand up to the light for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust. She stood there towering near him, wearing a lacey red lingerie. Her svelte body, slightly tanned, was exquisite perfection, magnificently toned. She looked down at him, holding her lower lip between her teeth. His heart pounded in his chest. She was absolutely stunning.

“It’s my birthday,” she said softly, demurely. “Clare said I can have you for the night.” Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her brassiere and allowed it to fall. Her rounded breasts firm and crowned by small semi-erect nipples. She covered her breasts with her hands, tipping her head forward and smiling coyly at him. Taking a step closer, she traced her hands down across her stomach and tucked her fingers into the waist of her panties.

“Holy,” he mumbled, barely audible.  Her smile grew.

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” he answered dumbly, truly in awe of her as she stood over him.

She wiggled her hips from side to side playfully then slowly bent over and removed the lower half of her swimsuit. Careful of him, she climbed onto the bed reclined on her back against the stack of pillows and assorted stuffed animals. Scooping him up in her right hand, she set him on her chest facing her. He smiled as he walked toward her face. She tipped her face forward, he leaned in and kissed ever so slightly on her lips. Pushing against her lips, she opened her mouth slightly in response. Moving forward, he climbed between her lips and lowered himself into her mouth, her warm wet tongue caressed his naked body. The sensation of having this tiny man completely at her mercy aroused her immensely. She could feel his excitement as he moved his nakedness across the expanse of her tongue. He tasted so good to her, virile. Using her tongue, she pushed him upwards, through parted teeth and between her lips. From there she placed him at her left breast. He stroked her aureole and nipple, her flesh stiffening in response to his efforts. She watched him, long licks on a nipple almost the size of his head. She could feel her entire body beginning to ignite. Sliding down the gentle swell of her nubile breast, he walked down her stomach passed her belly button to stand on her manicured pubic hair. The sensations in her body still building, neurons firing, she took him up in her hand. Parting her legs, she set him down on the quilt between her thighs. Her sex was delicate and wonderfully sleek, devoid of almost all hair save for the neatly trimmed patch on her pubis. She massaged herself softly, parting her outer labia to reveal the feminine mystery within. Standing as close as he was, he felt the warmth radiating off her, her natural scent filling his nostrils and enflaming him further. Tilting her pelvis downward, she provided him access. He stepped forward, hands kneading the moist heated flesh. She gasped at the touch, remarkably tender and gentle. Leaning his head forward, he nuzzled and kissed the velvety soft skin of her inner labia. A shudder passed through her body. “I want to feel you inside me,” she breathed hotly. Removing her hand from her clitoris, she held him by the legs and guided him toward her opening, pushing firmly against the impossibly tight channel. She eased him slowly into her, vagina stretching around his shoulders to accommodate him, but his passage was blocked by resistance. She pushed a little more forcefully but the resistance failed to yield. Using even more force, so much so he though his legs might break, she drove him against the resistance and suddenly it gave way, like a dam bursting and he was pushed completely inside her. She let out a soft cry, half pain half pleasure. He was awash in blood, he could smell it, taste it. It engulfed him. At once he understood, he was her first, she had been a virgin. He tried to re-orient himself, but she was thrashing and bucking wildly. He wanted to back out and get a fresh lungful of air but escape was denied him, Clarice closed her legs as desire replaced reason. Frantically he tried to breathe but blood and other fluids were drawn into his lungs, he coughed violently. His frenzied motion heightening her ecstasy and drawing a pleasured groan from her lips. Furiously he tried to push through the trembling flesh when he felt her fingers plunge into her pussy behind him, a glimpse of light and a life giving breath of oxygen. Renewed by the fresh air, he pushed his hands against her G-spot like he was polishing a precious stone. She arched further, shifting his position, but he twisted himself back and resumed his attention on that most delicate of buttons. Relentless, he caressed it, kneaded it. The muscles in her pussy seemed to tighten all around him, then convulsed, exploding with a flood of liquid. Vaguely he thought he heard her scream. His body tingled all over as her muscles contracted around him and squeezed and again and again. Black spots began to appear before his vision. Another convulsion, not quite as intense rocked her. Struggling to remain conscious, he felt her muscles slacken, the string of orgasms at an end. Reaching down, she parted her lips and opened the way for him to withdraw from her vagina. With a trembling hand she took him about his ribs and pulled him free of her pussy with a wet sucking sound and set him on her stomach. Her brow was damp and her smile satisfied.

“That was amazing,” she murmured, then chuckled. Jack looked at his body, it looked like he had been in a car accident, covered in blood and her other assorted juices. He wiped his face and looked down at his hands, they still tingled like a current of electricity flowed through them. The odd sensation crept up his arms into his torso. Suddenly he wondered if he was having a heart attack. His world began to spin as he felt his face get intensely hot, then he passed out.

The Dream

It was a weird dream. Jack was normal sized and sitting in the work area of a tattoo shop. Flash decorated the walls and the placed smelled of isopropyl alcohol. Looking down, his left arm was draped over an armrest. There was a kid who looked like he could not have been more than seventeen working away on the inside of Jack’s forearm. Everything seemed so real, the sight, sound, smell, even the sensation in his arm.

The machine buzzed as the kid freehanded some intricate design.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, keeping his arm rigid.

“It’s a protective sigil. Some of my finest work,” boasted the kid.

“You an apprentice?”

“Nope, but this is my first time,” he replied with a wink.

“Oh,” Jack responded, still watching the kid as he worked. “Do you know Smiley at Blood and Ink Tattoo? He does all my work,” added Jack.

He stopped and favored Jack with a big grin, powder blue eyes full of mischief. “Speaking of blood, do you know what blood magic is?”

Jack shook his head.

“Sex magic?”

Again Jack shook no.

“They are very old forms of magic using either blood or sex as a conduit to do magic, the purer the blood the stronger the magic, like throwing virgins into volcanos, that kind of thing.”

“Ok,” Jack said, confused and not understanding the direction the conversation was headed.

“Well, you my friend, you climbed inside a fledgling goddess, popping her cherry not just with your penis, but with ALL of you, then brought her to orgasm while you were still marinating inside of her newly opened maidenhood. Imagine swimming in a sea of rocket fuel and then throwing a match on it. That’s what you did.”

“What do you mean?”

The kid laughed. Looking down at Jack’s arm, the kid said, “Done.”

Jack looked down, but there was no evidence of any new work. He looked for the kid, but he was gone. Everything started to fade, the dream fragmented into indistinct threads of vapor, born aloft then lost to the breeze as he climbed back toward consciousness. Definitely weird.

Round-up

Situated on a fairly extensive piece of property, the 17th century manor house nestled in sedately amongst neatly manicured shrubbery. The property had been in the Halston family for nearly seven decades. A stone fence encircled the grounds, high enough to keep livestock in though there had been none in over a century.

Samuel returned to the estate to fortify a defensive position. Hiring an armed private security force for the grounds, he used the upper echelon of his following to magically ward the interior of the manor.

Samuel was at his desk reviewing an ancient tome when the door to his personal study opened.

“I left instructions I was not to be disturbed,” he said, looking up from the manuscript. A blonde haired woman dressed in business attire walked in, followed by two other women. He recognized Clarissa Heller’s assistant Hildegarde at once. He did not know the other two behind her. One possessed white hair, braided and tied back, eyes the color of ice. The other woman, slightly taller than her two companions had dark hair and vibrant amethyst colored eyes. The two women were both slender and quite comely though they appeared quite young to him, early twenties perhaps.

Samuel leaned back from his desk, elbows on the arms of his chair, fingers tented over his chest.

“Mr. Halston, allow me to introduce myself, my name is Hildegarde,” she said. “My associates are Serah,” she introduced, the white haired woman nodded slightly, “and Selene.” The dark haired woman smiled and nodded.

“I know who you are,” Samuel replied directly to Hildegarde.

“Then it should come as little surprise as to why were are here,” she said.

He smiled, a tired expression on his weary face. “You are here sooner than expected, very efficient.”

Hilde smiled, “Thank you,” she said, acknowledging the compliment.

“I had hoped my defenses would have made a better showing,” he added.

“Besides your local defenses, the balance of your inner circle has been neutralized,” she said.

“Killed?” he asked.

“There were some casualties, though minimal,” she informed.

“Unfortunate,” he commented, not out of some moral connection to those lost, but because replacing them would take time and effort.

Reaching into her purse, she withdrew a small cloth pouch. Loosening the drawstring, she poured out a faceted black stone into her palm.

“Is that it?” he asked, leaning forward.

She nodded. Walking forward, she set it down on the edge of his desk.

He reached out and took the stone in his hands, rolling it from one hand to the other before cradling it between them. He could feel it pulsate in his grip, power seeping into his fingers. The sensation was electric. He looked up at Hilde. “This truly is one of the stones of power,” he breathed.

Hilde smiled.

“I think you have made a very telling mistake Hildegarde,” he said. Channeling his magic through the stone, he lashed a killing spell at Hilde. Nothing happened. He held the stone up and tried another spell. As before, she remained untouched, unharmed. He looked at the stone in his hand and frowned. “I have spent a lifetime harnessing my skills.”

Hilde nodded, “One small fleeting lifetime.”

“But this is the source of her power,” he said, eyes still transfixed on the stone.

Hilde smiled. “Her power outstrips that stone thousands of times over. To her, the stone is a meaningless bauble. She likes it because of the striations in the stone, blacker than black, nothing more.”

Setting the stone back down on the desk, “What now then?” he asked, leaning back in the broad backed antique leather chair.

“I am to escort you to my mistress,” replied Hilde.

“Very well,” he replied, straightening the chair he stood upright and buttoned his suit jacket.

“I am glad you understand the situation,” she said with a smile, pleased he did not grovel like so many of his followers.

The Game Board

Jack awoke with a dry mouth and a dull throb in his head. Somewhere nearby he could hear the hum of electricity. Cracking an eyelid, he looked up at the discolored ceiling. It took a second to register, the room was his size, normal sized.  Sitting upright, he found himself atop a bed, pale light with dancing green shone in through the window as a warm breeze fluttered the curtains. The room looked like a rundown hotel room, faded wallpaper stained by years of cigarette smoke decorated the walls. Orange carpet worn bare near the door covered the floor.

“What the…” Had he been restored? He wondered as he swung his legs off the bed. Rubbing his hands over his face, he got up. Walking to the bathroom he passed a set of clothes folded atop the battered desk in the room. He stepped into the bathroom, clicked on the light. The mirror in the room was cracked along one edge. Last he remembered he had been covered in blood, but now he was clean. He turned on the faucet, cool water splashed out into his hands and he washed his face. Leaving the bathroom, he sauntered over to the window, peering out, he saw he was on the second floor of a building. The neon sign just outside his window was attached to the side of the building, blazing ‘Hotel’ in bright green neon. There were maybe a dozen or so buildings, lining either side of the street, the air was warm and dry reminding him of desert. There was a gas station down and across the street to his left, beyond that was darkness. There were a handful people, all men in the street looking around bewildered, as if they too had found themselves somewhere unfamiliar. Leaving the curtains parted, he yawned and went to the clothes. Briefs, jeans, t-shirt, running shoes, and a leather jacket, he didn’t recognize any of the clothes but they fit him perfectly. Dressed, he quit the room. To his right, he saw stairs down at the end of the hall. He could hear a heated voice coming from the stairwell. He recognized the voice, Cyrus. Descending the stairs into what seemed some type of open sitting area, Jack paused a minute to observe the commotion.

Cyrus was standing over top of another man seated on one of the couches lining the wall, “What the fuck have you gotten us into?” he demanded, slapping at the man’s arms as he attempted to defend himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” squealed Thomas Edwards, desperately trying to fend off the angry gangster.

“Cyrus!” Jack called as he reached the bottom of the stairs

Cyrus turned at the sound of his name. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jack the Hammer Dalton,” he whistled. He ceased his assault on the frightened lawyer and took a couple of steps forward, “You are probably the last motherfucker I expected to see here. Maybe you know what the fuck is going on. One minute I’m talking to some broad about where the fuck you are and the next I’m the size of a goddamn mouse in a fucking shoebox surrounded by giant sized bat shit crazy dames, then I wake up in this shithole.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, walking passed Cyrus to stand at the door leading onto the main street.

“If you’re here, where’s Tony?” Cyrus asked, casting a glance up the stairs before looking back to Jack.

Surveying the street outside, “He didn’t make it,” answered Jack, not bothering to look back.

“What do you mean, didn’t make it?”

“Big girl ate him, now that piece of shit is really just a piece of shit,” Jack said with a chuckle.

“Ate him?”

Jack turned, lifted his hand to his mouth, “Ate him,” he said then turned back to look out into the street.

“Oh,” acknowledged Cyrus. Turning to the lawyer, he asked, “What about you counsellor?”

Thomas remained curled in a tight unobtrusive ball, “I was in my office and blonde woman with a ponytail shrunk me down, Hilde she called herself, I don’t remember anything else until I woke up and found you down here,” wheedled the lawyer.

“Hilde, yeah, that’s what the cunt called herself,” Cyrus added, nodding.

A bad feeling started gnawing away at the back of Jack’s brain, he suspected what was happening. This town looked impressive but he suspected it was a bullshit construct, he was still little and soon there would be a swarm frenzied giant women ripping the town apart to catch all the tiny people hiding here. He figured he needed somewhere to hole up and fast. There was no telling, maybe the hunt had already started.

“We still got unfinished business, you and me,” Cyrus said as he walked up behind Jack and pushed his shoulder.

“Now isn’t the time,” cautioned Jack, voice full of menace.

Cyrus grabbed Jack and spun the larger man around, “Looks like time is all I got right now,” he growled.

Jack pushed Cyrus back, easily overpowering the man, “Listen fuck face, we are out of time and death is about to ride into this little dump of a town in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. I don’t know how much time we got, but I bet you it’s not much. We survive this, you and me can figure this shit out.” Jack turned away from Cyrus and walked back to the door.

Exiting the hotel he walked to the middle of the road that ran through the center of town. One way in, one way out, and the road vanished into darkness to either direction just beyond the illumination of the town. A side road on the east end of town ended in a mobile home trailer park, a handful of houses lined the road on the west. The sinking feeling moved to his gut. Everything in the town had a genuine feel, but possessed a wrongness, just felt off. That niggling voice in the back of his mind told him what it was, the town was a killing field. This was the environment for the hunt.

Standing as he was in the middle of the road, a young woman followed by two men emerged from a building opposite the hotel and ran into the building to the left of the hotel, Annabelle’s Beauty Salon.

There were a half dozen cars angle parked along store fronts. Hearing footsteps behind, Jack turned as Cyrus approached.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Cyrus asked.

“I think we’re going to need to hide,” Jack replied. Turning, he left Cyrus staring after him. Walking down the road to his east, he stopped at the edge of town, a post office to his right general store to his left. The air held a hint of jasmine.

Clare

Clare absently chewed at her lip. Waiting was the worst. Part of her was excited to participate in the hunt, but on the other hand, she was concerned someone else would find Jack first. With only nine women participating there would be plenty of targets to go around. In total there were 54 prey on the field today, 51 males and 3 females. The vast majority of them were members of Halston’s conclave or attached affiliates.

The set up was circular, similar in size to the floor of a sports arena. The area in the middle was shrouded in darkness, to a height of about four feet. None of the women scattered around the edge of the darkness knew the lay of the land, what to expect from the environment.

Of all the other participants hovering at the edge of the blackness, the one Clare was more concerned about was Serah. The white haired woman with frosty blue eyes was a merciless predator with uncanny instincts in locating and dealing with prey. She did not see the tiny humans as people, just prey. She contemplated the others. Emilie was voracious but not nearly as skilled as Serah, and would undoubtedly team up with Lyssa. Selene would savor the hunt, taking her time to enjoy playing with the prey she came across. Vanessa seemed somewhere between Serah and Selene. Playful, but ruthless.

She worried about her younger sister, standing in the distance absently swirling a strand of hair in her fingers. Her first hunt. Clare hoped she wouldn’t get too caught up in the lust of the hunt. If she was and Clarice found Jack, he would be lost, she would devour him. The hunt was intoxicating, a sensory overload.

If Angela or Angelica got to Jack first, there was a chance.

Clare had possessed Jack for a fortnight, where would he hide, she wondered, what had she learned about his habits?

Waiting was the worst.

The veil shrouding the town lifted, the hunt had begun. The layout was fairly flat, desert like climate. A paved highway ran through the center of a small cluster of commercial buildings, most two story, a single building stood four. To the north of the main street, there was what appeared to be a school and sports field and a church. A white water tower maybe three feet in height stood on the south side of the town. A mobile home trailer park and several house rounded out the building around the tiny town.

From where she stood, the ‘town’ was maybe sixty feet distant. She could see small figures scurrying in the streets, but they were too far away to be able to identify. She felt the surge of adrenalin course through her body, a hunt always fired the blood.

Other women quickly engaged, hoping to take advantage and catch easy prey too stunned by the situation or too foolish to be left in open.  It didn’t take very many strides to cover the distance between the edge of the environment and the town. Several of the prey were outside on the street and scattered as the giantesses closed in from virtually every direction. Chaos ensued as the tiny people attempted to flee. Some stood, benumbed to the surreal events unfolding, most others sought refuge in various buildings about town.

Game on

The moment the darkness had lifted, Jack ran at the nearest building, the general store across from the post office. There was no way in hell he wanted to get caught in the open. Closing the door behind him, he huddled down against the side wall and peered out through the big front window of the store. People still seemed to be running every which way. The door opened and slammed as someone else ran into the general store. A young man of maybe twenty stood there eyes scanning for a place to hide. Jack yelled, “Get behind the counter!” The kid just looked at Jack. Jack pointed. “Behind the counter!” The kid either ignored Jack’s direction, or ignored it and just stood there.

He could feel the ground tremble and the sound of many sets of footfalls drawing closer. He watched as people rushed toward the post office then suddenly there was a giant foot clad in an enormous white and pink running shoe in the edge of his vision near the end of the street. Looking up as a shadow fell across the window, he saw a dark haired woman looking down on the post office. Another giantess appeared in his line of sight, a blonde Jack didn’t know. The two women exchanged glances. Crouching down, the blonde reached for the edge of the post office roof and literally peeled it off, as easily as one might open the vacuum seal on a coffee can. The panicking figure of a man emerged through the door into the street, stumbling before sprawling hard on the pavement near the foot. From his concealment, Jack held his breath. The man looked toward Jack, eyes imploring and though Jack did not recognize the other he tried to encourage him to move

“Aha!” exclaimed the brunette, voice exultant, stepping over the building and crouching down.

The man rolled over, raising his hands over his head as if to fend off the hand of the dark haired giantess. Quickly and effortlessly she gathered him up. Her free hand plucked at the flimsy clothing and stripped him bare as she rose to standing. Holding him to eye level, she seemed to evaluate him, a smile tugging at her generous lips. With a quick motion, she clenched her fist. The tiny form screamed before being silenced by a sickening crunch. Lifting the broken but still living form to her lovely face, she sucked him into her mouth feet first, the head vanishing with a small popping sound. Smiling, she tilted her head back and swallowed. The small bob of her laryngeal prominence marked the passage of the tiny man down her esophagus. Lowering her head, she immediately began scanning in the post office for more prey.

The blonde paused a moment, looking in Jack’s direction before throwing the ruined roof away.

Jack’s heart thundered in his chest. He was just getting ready to move, when something inside the roofless post office caught the blonde’s attention. Reaching into the building she lifted a squirming figure aloft. Jack could hear feminine screams as the figure vanished from view beyond the awning of the general store.

The brunette tore off the upper portion of the building adjacent to the post office, the town bank. The front doors flew open and four figures erupted from the building. The dark haired woman stepped over the building with her left foot to block an avenue of escape, but one tiny figure was fleeter than she expected and her giant pink and white running shoe came down on top of the running man. The blonde reached out and gathered two in the same hand, while the brunette caught the last one. Prizes in hand, the blonde strode away. The brunette divested her catch of clothing, immobilized her prey then devoured it. Looking back into the bank, she curled her fingers around the large steel safe. With little effort she hefted it aloft and gently shook it. A smile touched her full lips. The metal yielded easily to her strength as she tore the vault door off and casually tossed it away. Inside the giant safe, two men huddled together. Upending the vault, the two men tumbled into her palm. Looking once more into it, she cast it in the same direction as the vault door and examined the bounty in her hand. Over the sounds of carnage, Jack could hear them yelling and screaming and then they were gone. When she walked away, Jack could see the pulpy remnants of the unfortunate who had been crushed beneath her shoe.

Beyond the line of buildings on the opposite side of the street, he caught a glimpse of Angela, her blue streaked hair tied back into a pony tail, dressed in tight shorts and halter, she seemed to be actively looking for something, him maybe he wondered, and for a moment, he actually thought he’d made eye contact, but instead she turned and vanished from his line of sight.

Suddenly there was a tremendous grinding and tearing and the sound of wood cracking. The entire upper floor of the general store was torn away, large pieces of debris and broken floor joists fell back into the store, narrowly missing the kid, but striking and toppling several shelving units. The line of shelves next to Jack toppled toward him nearly pinning him against the wall, but caught on the wall instead, spilling family sized cereal boxes down on him providing him a place of concealment a few short feet from where the kid stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide, mouth agape. Directly overhead, a face appeared, looking down into the wreckage that had been the store. She was incredibly beautiful. Long dark haired framed her lovely face. Eyes, the color of violet sunset, smiled down upon the kid.

The young suit clad man gazed at up her in rapt wonder, in awe of her dimension and the feeling her proximity had on him. He felt so small and vulnerable before her majestic beauty. His whole life he had had power over others, wealth and privilege allowing him to compel others to do his bidding. Now here he stood bereft of will, a moth before a roaring bonfire.

“What’s your name little one?” she asked, leaning so close her face was only scant inches from his tiny frame, the distance much greater from his diminutive perspective.

“William,” he answered, “William Halston.”

 “My name is Selene,” she replied with a whisper, as if her voice might overpower him.

Jack felt her warm breath as she exhaled into the store.

She seemed to study William a moment before saying, “I want you to remove your clothing for me William,” her voice seductive.

When he failed to move or respond, she nudged him gently with her index finger.

“Sorry,” he said, returned to the moment.

“I want you to remove your clothes for me,” she repeated.

He nodded. Removing his jacket he folded it neatly and laid it on the still intact counter. Next was tie and shirt, which he also folded before placing it on top of his suit jacket. Pants, shoes and socks followed, then finally underwear until he stood naked before her.

“Good,” she said, “you are handsome young man.” William was in good shape, leanly muscled. She moved her head from side to side to evaluate him. She rewarded him with a nod of approval. “Very nice. Now, I want you to raise your hands over your head for me,” she directed. He elevated his hands as instructed. Shifting her knees, she re-positioned herself until her mouth was directly over his head. Reaching into the store and pushing a couple of overturned shelves out of the way, she placed her left thumb over the front of his feet before parting her lips and slowly lowering her mouth down over top of him until he vanished from sight. Once her mouth touched her thumb, she closed her lips around him and leisurely drew her mouth back up over his body, her lips moulding themselves to the contours of his tiny body in the process until his upright arms were once again exposed. Though the pressure was firm, her thumb prevented him from coming up off the ground. She grinned. Transfixed by what was happening, William made no effort to move. His whole body was coated in her saliva. He found the whole experience very erotic and his youthful body responded accordingly. Seeing his reaction, she leaned in again and lowered her mouth over him and drew her lips back up, his hands still in her mouth before she descended upon him once more. On the seventh down stroke, she stopped when her lips were at his thighs, she withdrew her thumb and leaned back onto her knees. From his hiding place, Jack watched in absolute silence as she tilted her head back. Legs still protruding from her mouth, she made a soft delighted sound and William vanished. A moment later, her head was looking back into the remains of the store. He didn’t know if she had seen him, sensed him, or if she was just searching. He was sure she could hear the sound of his heart pounding of his chest.

“There!” he heard an unknown female voice call, and Selene’s head turned sharply before she pushed herself up and moved out of his view.

Clare

From her point of view, Clare witnessed the destruction of the eastern end of the town as Emilie and Lyssa dismantled the post office and bank, devouring all of the prey they found. She watched as Selene, on hands and knees, approached the general store and the intimate play she had before consuming her catch. She didn’t know how Jack was dressed and given the chaos at the beginning of the hunt she wasn’t sure he hadn’t been captured.

“There!” Vanessa cried out, pointing at the group of half a dozen people bolting out from the back of the café that was situated between Duke’s Hardware and Litten’s Feed Shop.

She didn’t think she saw Jack in the group, but she did see Vanessa and Serah pounce on the fleeing figures. The group’s attempt to scatter proved futile and within moments all were gone.

Clarice was down low on hands and knees, peering through the windows of the four story hotel in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Jack.

Vanessa, having finished off her share of the fleeing café people, stepped over the café and knelt down in front of the hotel, legs astride the building on the north side of the street. Sweeping her hand down the exterior of the four story hotel, she pulled down much of the front wall. Dragging the debris and the green neon sign to the ground, the interior of several rooms were now exposed.

A figure suddenly ran out the back of the hotel and stopped dead in his tracks exactly where Clarice was kneeling. The tiny man locked eyes with the young woman. She frowned. Turning, he got three steps back toward the hotel before she nimbly plucked him up off the ground.

Bringing her little captive, firmly pinned in her huge but delicate fingers, she asked, “Where’s Jack?”

Though her squirmed vigorously, her grip was unyielding, far too secure for him to move let alone break.

“Where’s Jack?” she demanded, tightening her grip to emphasize her urgency.

“I don’t know any Jack, please lady,” replied the wee man breathlessly.

Frustrated, Clarice growled. She studied the man a moment, contemplating whether or not to swallow him.

Rearing back on her knees, butt on her feet, she tucked him into the left side of her sport bra, pinning him between spandex and her smooth breast flesh.

Thomas Edwards

Thomas Edwards, huddled behind the reception desk on the bottom floor of the hotel. Covering his ears at the sound of carnage as the front of the hotel was demolished. When natural light spilled in, he peeked over the edge of the reception desk only to see Vanessa with her face to the ground looking directly at him. Pink tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Mmm, what do we have here?” she asked, delighted by the discovery.

Like a deer in headlights, he froze.

Pulling back, she reached in with her hand she pulled away the reception desk, then again back in and found her tiny trembling prize. Raising herself to standing, she twisted the terrified lawyer so that as he dangled he was facing her.

“Please…” he begged, urinating in his own pants. She held him further out and frowned.

“Please, I have money anything, I’m begging you please,” he sobbed.

She took several steps away from the town and crouching down, she set him on the ground.

Vanessa frown deepened. “Take off your soiled clothing,” she instructed. Still blubbering, he complied until he was standing naked.

“Stop crying,” she encouraged, offering him an empathetic smile.

He sniffled hard, trying to staunch the flow of tears. Dropping to his knees, he supplicated before her, before crawling on hands and knees, face to the ground, and reaching out to touch the toe of her shoe.

She looked down at the pathetic little creature clinging to her and contemplated choices. Should she just step on him, eat him, or use him later to bring pleasure to herself as her end of hunt finale. So far as she knew, there was still plenty of prey around and probably better suited for those end of hunt designs. Making up her mind, she picked up the lawyer by his ribs and placed him in her mouth. A quick movement of her tongue and he was in her throat squirming against her esophagus all the way down.

Jack be nimble…

Jack knew he could not remain hidden under cereal boxes forever. Pushing the boxes away from him, he climbed out from under the shelving unit. Still partially hidden, he peered around. He saw Clare in the distance and the blonde from the post office. There was a white haired woman between him and Clare. At the western end of town, Angelica was sifting through the remains of the local beauty salon adjacent to the hotel.

Moving cautiously through the rubble, he ducked into the relatively intact feed store beside the general store. The giant redhead stepped over the building and began dismantling the front of the hotel. He watched surreptitiously as she dragged the lawyer out before standing and vanishing from view. He caught a sudden glimpse of Clarice behind the hotel pivoting quickly to help Angelica as commotion erupted in that area. A foot in a white athletic shoe appeared and thundered to the ground in front of the feed shop, rattling the glass and startling Jack. He tried to peer up to see who was attached to the foot, but the angle was too steep and all he saw was a smooth leg to the knee.

“We’re all going to die here,” whispered a male voice from somewhere behind Jack. He turned to look but saw no one.

“Not me pal,” he replied. Getting up, he bolted out the door, using the shoe to cover his passage and the commotion to draw attention, he crossed the street and slipped into the bar beside the hotel.

“Jesus H. Christ!” hissed a man hidden under a table near the counter.

Jack ignored him, crossing the floor and passing through the hanging half doors. He continued through the kitchen, down the back hall to the heavy door at the rear of the bar. Crates of empty bottles lined the walls to either side of the door. He pressed his ear to the windowless door hoping to hear if there were any sounds beyond.  By his estimation, he should be very close to Clarice. Opening the door slowly, he tried to peak outside, when the door was suddenly pulled from his grip, and torn completely out of its frame.

Selene was there on her knees, ebullient smile on her face, “Hello handsome,” she said.

Surprised by her unexpected appearance, he lurched backwards, stumbling into some of the boxes of empties and falling. Twisting as he fell, he landed on his hands and took off like a sprinter from starting blocks back through the kitchen and into the bar. “Run!” he yelled.

Like a spurred horse, the man dressed in what looked like swat clothes, burst through the front door of the bar two steps ahead of Jack. The man headed straight into the street, while Jack used the door jamb to shift his momentum to the left. He caught sight of a shadow moving over him as he nimbly scaled the debris pile in front of the hotel. Diving forward into an open room on the first floor, he landed with a roll and ran out of the room into the hallway. Leaning against the wall, he sucked in several big breaths as his heart pounded. From somewhere very close by, there was a tremendous rending sound and the whole building shook.

Cyrus

When the lights went on, Cyrus made a bee-line for the police station, not because he thought there might be cops there who would protect him, but because there might be guns. Plus he figured the design of the building was probably more secure than any other in town, with the exception of the bank.

As expected the building was deserted. It didn’t take him long to find the gun locker. He was hoping to find an assault rifle, but was pleased find two Mossberg 500 Tactical shotguns. He didn’t care how big they were, he figured at close range, a shotgun could still do some damage. Grabbing one of the shotguns from the locker, he started looking for shells. Fortunately, in the cabinet beside the gun locker he found a couple of boxes 12 gauge shells. With Deft fingers, he quickly loaded 6 shells in the shotgun and put another six in the holder on the stock, the rest he put into his pant pockets. Smiling to himself, he cranked the pump and said, “Fuck yeah!”

The sounds of carnage were all around, along with the rumbling sound of titanic footsteps. He debated possible tactics. The head on approach would be suicide, pump or no. He needed to be strategic. He thought about locking himself in one of the two cells in the back but figured the bars, while strong enough to keep him in, would do nothing to keep them out.

Shotgun in hand, he crept to the window to see what was happening. There was a giant figure kneeling overtop of the police station, her torso near the hotel. The figure reared back, long red hair spilling down her back as she rose to standing. Across from the police station there appeared a commotion in the beauty salon, several of the titanic women congregated there. He watched as tiny forms were quickly devoured. Except for one broad, a dark haired girl who looked like a teenager, she was stuffing little people into her bra. The whole thing seemed such a perverse distortion of reality he laughed out loud, almost maniacally.

Turning is back to the wall, he slid down, shotgun standing between his legs. Shadows flashed passed the window as the ground shook. Peering back out the window, he caught sight of a guy and Jack exiting the bar just as a giant broad reached over the building. She caught the other guy but Jack ducked into the remains of the hotel. There were just too damn many of the women, he knew the more people that got caught the harder it would be to hide. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath.

Selene

She saw the sudden commotion from the beauty salon, but she also noticed the tiny form skirt passed her shoe and into the bar. Stepping over the building, she lowered herself to kneeling behind the bar, presuming the little one might attempt to sneak through the back. When the door, no more than the size of an average business card to her, started to open she seized and easy pulled it away. The startled expression on the tiny man’s face made her grin. “Hello handsome,” she said, for he was handsome. Quick as a startled mouse, he darted back into the bar. Leaning forward, she placed her left hand into the street, keeping her right poised to grab the man as he fled the front of the bar. However, the man who emerged from the bar was not the man she had seen. Reaching down, she quickly snatched up the man in the street. She didn’t see the other man. Looking into the open hotel and down the block there was no trace. Unless he was still in the bar. Selene smiled.

Looking up, “Serah,” she called. The white haired woman turned to face her. Selene tossed the tiny man in her hand to her, his little arms flailing as he flew through the air. Serah smiled and snatched the little figure out of midair, quickly divested it of clothing and wolfed him down. That one was too easy, Selene thought, she wanted to play, she wanted to have fun with the one she had startled in the bar. Leaning back, she grabbed the front of the single story bar and started to pull, hoping to pull up the whole building, instead she got all the walls and roof, the foundation of the bar and furnishings were still on the ground. There was no trace of the man she had glimpsed. She cast the building shell aside. Leaning forward again, this time elbow on the ground, she looked more thoroughly into the ruins front of the hotel. Reaching in with her hand, she began to pull at partition walls and floors. Suddenly a figure emerged from the second floor and ran directly at her, momentarily startled by the sudden motion, she instinctively jerked back. The figure landed, running past her face and directly into the police station.

Cyrus

When the door on the police station flew open, Cyrus rolled sideways and came up with the shotgun leveled directly at the door. It took a split second for his brain to register there was a man standing there, looking into the barrel of the Mossberg. The man stopped dead, putting his hands up.

“Motherfuck! I almost shot you!” barked Cyrus, pulling the shot gun away. The man smiled and before he could take a step forward, the door imploded followed by a giant feminine hand. Amidst the shattering glass, the hand curled around the man and he was gone, not even enough time to scream, where once the police station doors used to be, now there was only a gaping hole.

Cyrus took two steps back and aimed the shotgun at the hole.

Four fingers from a different hand, each of them ending in a brightly polished nail, the longest finger longer than he was tall, curled around the top of the opening and began to lift. Lifting the shotgun, he fired it into the hand, the report of the blast echoing in the confined space of the room. Pumping the shotgun, he fired again as the hand hastily vanished from the hole. “Eat that bitch!” he yelled, pumping the weapon again.

He backed away from the hole, there were a couple different sets of feet visible through the windows and the ruin doors of the police station.

“There’s somebody with a bloody gun in there,” said Emilie, rubbing at the speckled mark on the back of her right hand.

“What?” asked Selene, sitting back on her heels prize secure in her hand. Examining her catch, she frowned. Still not the one she had caught a glimpse of at the rear of the bar.

“There is one of them in there with a gun,” repeated the blonde.

Selene laughed lightly. “Here, take this one,” she offered, holding the tiny man she retrieved from the police station toward Emilie.

“No, I want the little bastard that shot me,” growled Emilie.

Selene held the figure in front of her face and smiled, before setting him down in the street near the café. “You should probably run,” she encouraged. Terrified, the man took off, eyes locked onto Selene as he fled. He didn’t see Lyssa’s hand descend in front of his path as she scooped him up, shredded his clothes and swallowed him down. Selene resumed her search of the hotel.

“You in the police station, if you come out, I promise it will be swift,” Emilie offered, trying to peer in through the windows without putting her face in the line of fire.

“Why don’t you stick your face in the doorway and let me brush your teeth with my shotgun,” Cyrus countered.

“Cyrus,” she said, recognizing his voice.

“Fucking A it’s me,” he acknowledged.

“You do realize I could simply stomp the building into the ground and you along with it,” she stated.

“Better that than winding up slowly digesting in your gut,” he countered. “In fact, I’d eat this shotgun before I let you stuff me down your throat hole.”

He could see more sets of legs appear beyond the windows. Could he do it he wondered, shoot himself in the head? He didn’t have long to ponder, as the roof was suddenly torn off. Startled, he brought the shotgun up firing once, before suddenly being pushed roughly to the ground, smothered by a heavy palm, he felt as if his ribs might crack.

“Got you,” triumphed Emilie, easing her hand back enough to allow him to breathe but not to move.

“Go fuck yourself,” he replied from beneath her hand.

“Go Fuck myself?” she asked.

“Did I stutter?” he wheezed.

“Okay, if that’s the way you want it, it’s decided then,” she said, curling her hand around him and lifting him into the air. Standing upright, she held her hand in front of her and opened it. Cyrus lay spread eagle and face down in her palm. She began to tear away his clothing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he complained.

“You said fuck myself, and that’s what I’m going to do, except I’m going to use you to do it,” she replied with a grin, closing her hand around him. The hunt had aroused her and she liked the idea of using him to culminate the experience. A couple of strides she sat down in the athletic sports field behind the tiny school house. Using her free hand, she removed her shorts and panties and parted her legs. She was already wet. Cyrus squirmed vigorously in her grasp, but her hold was too firm. She shifted him in her grip so his head and shoulders were exposed between her right index finger and thumb, but his arms her held fast by his sides.

“Stop!” he yelled, but she was unmoved by his complaint. She silenced his next word by using his face to manipulate the sensitive skin around her clitoris. She titillated herself with him until she opened herself up and pushed him inside her hungry vagina. Once he was completely in her, she began to furiously rub herself, bucking and thrashing against her own hand. The first orgasm hit her hard, her whole body convulsed as neurons fired impulses all through her body. She clamped her legs closed and rocked to the glorious sensation. His tiny struggles sent shivers through her and she enjoyed another orgasm. Knowing she had wrung every ounce of usefulness out of his tiny little body, she pulled his semiconscious form from her swollen pussy. Laying on her back, she dangled him over her open mouth and dropped him in, depleted as he was, he slid down her throat with no resistance. Closing her eyes, she gently rubbed her stomach and basked in the afterglow of her climax.

“Fuck myself indeed,” she murmured.

Jack be quick…

He was starting to panic, he could hear the sounds of the hotel being systematically pulled apart. Running down the corridor toward the back of the hotel, he paused to peer out the window. There was aloud rending sound behind him. He turned back to look and made momentary eye contact with Selene.

“Aha!” exclaimed the woman, finally locating her elusive prey down the length of the hall. Jack never hesitated, he dove through the window and onto the ground behind the hotel. He desperately hoped Clarice was still relatively close. Selene drew herself rapidly back into a kneeling position, and her sudden exclamation and reaction drew the attention from several of the other women in the vicinity. Clarice was actually the one who saw Jack first, but she was not the closest. Selene, situated on her knees behind the bar and Lyssa were closer, with Angelica a step back but still closer than Clarice. Several sets of eyes fell on Jack simultaneously. Running as fast as he could away from Selene, he bee-lined toward Angelica.

Angelica saw him but she also saw how much closer Selene was. Extending her right arm, Angelica dove toward Jack before the other woman could respond. To him, the force from her hand as it ensnared him was akin to being hit by a bus. The impact snapped several ribs on his right side and his right collar bone was broken. Slender fingers swept around him quickly and squeezed painfully. The world spun topsy-turvy as Angelica landed hard on the ground beside the startled Selene, pulling him close to her bosom and cradling him as she rolled over and to a stop.

When she opened her hand, he smiled up at her, grimacing through the pain. He was safe. Without warning, she opened her mouth, and pushed him inside. He was stunned, he rolled over her tongue and into her throat as she swallowed. The moist soft tissue contracted around him, propelling him downward, he clenched his teeth as the compression placed additional pressure on his injured side. He felt denser muscle as her lower esophageal sphincter opened and he was passed into her stomach. There was a brief falling sensation, before striking the muscular ridges inside her stomach. He grunted in pain and was startled when he heard a feminine shriek in the darkness.

“It there somebody there?” he asked, wheezing against the pain and caustic atmosphere inside Angelica’s stomach. It felt like a sauna.

Everything lurched, and Jack tumbled against the rugae and tried his best to protect his injured side, before coming into contact with a soft mass, which immediately pushed back against him.

“Easy,” Jack said through his teeth. “I think we’re both in this mess together.”

“What’s happening?” sobbed a female voice in the acrid darkness.

“I think we are up shit creek,” Jack laughed at the funny. The stomach undulated around them. “You should come closer, so we don’t smash into each other again,” he offered. He felt small delicate hands touch his right leg and then travel up to his head.

“You’ll have to climb over me doll to get to my other side, I’m pretty broke up on my right. She was slight as she climbed over him. Wrapping his left arm around her slender shoulders, he pulled her close.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Abigail, everyone calls me Abbie. You?”

“Jack, but everyone calls me Jack,” he said.

“I’m scared Jack,” she offered, voice breaking, on the verge of tears.

“Just think of the meet-cute story we’ll have when we get out of here,” he teased, but she only nestled firmer against him. The digestive rumbling, audible over the rushing noise of Angelica’s beating heart sounded ominous.

Clarissa

Clarissa observed the hunt from afar, detached from the spectacle. Seated on an elevated dais overlooking the event, she watched on impassively as the tiny specks of light that were each prey vanished one by one. Hilde stood at her side. On the arm of the ornate chair rested a small golden cage within which stood the tiny figure of Samuel Halston III.

“Is this to make me feel small and insignificant, or for you to bolster your self-esteem by seeing me diminished?” he asked.

“This to make you aware of what your machination has wrought,” Clarissa advised without rancor.

“Get on with whatever it is you plan to do with me, I grow weary of your pedantic drivel,” he replied.

“Does it not concern you your three children are out there?” she asked, eyebrow elevating as she turned to look at him.

“Depending what happens here today, I can always breed more. There is no shortage of eager woman willing to carry my seed.”

“I must confess I am disquieted by your emotional detachment,” she said.

“Save your feigned disdain, it is wasted on me. My sons are pale imitations of me and my daughter nothing more than a brood mare or a goat born to sacrifice when the moment was right,” he scoffed.

“Therein lies the crux for me, listening to you and your callous comportment makes me want to find an ideal end for you. Something fitting,” she said firmly.

From the hunting field, Angelica approached the dais followed closely by Clare. Both girls genuflected out of respect. Clarissa nodded.

“We wish to retire from the hunt,” advised Clare.

Clarissa frowned. “You are permitted to retire, but I detect there are still a number of prey out there,” she said, perplexed by the girls’ decision to prematurely quit the field.

“We are contented by the day’s proceedings and wish to retire,” replied Angelica.

Clarissa nodded. As drama continued to unfold before her, she found herself pondering an ideal means of dispatching Samuel. So absorbed, she failed to notice the figure glide up behind her.

“How do you fare my sister?” asked a soft feminine voice, voice sweet and pure.

Samuel turned in his cage to see the speaker. Hilde dropped to one knee and lowered her head.

Hair so blonde it was almost white sat up high on the back of her head, held aloft by rows of tiny braids. Her face was flawless, an epitome of the beauty. Soft powder blue eyes with delicate eyebrows, symmetrical above her nose. Full lips, parted slightly to reveal a glimpse of white from her teeth. Though her attire was modest, a gown of ivory colored silk, it fit her shape well and accented ideal curves. As she moved, the air itself seem to caress her in recognition of her perfection.

“Rise Hilde,” said the blonde, reaching to touch her gently on the cheek.

“Your Grace,” acknowledged Hilde, rising and taking several steps back.

“Angel,” she replied with a touch of a smile.

Clarissa smiled, “I wondered if I might see you here,” she said, turning to see the newcomer.

“I only came because I sensed him, for a flicker,” she said, gazing out over the hunting environment. “I’d wondered if perhaps you had caught him.”

Clarissa laughed. “If I had caught him, all of creation would know of my triumph. Like you, I sensed his presence,” she said with a low voice, “though by the time I sensed it, a flash in the corner of my eye, he was already gone.”

“I see Angela out on the field, where is my other daughter?”

“Angelica has retired from the hunt, along with Clare. They departed not long ago. Angelica made a spectacular diving catch,” Clarissa informed. “I did find it unusual for them to depart early though,” she added

Angel frowned slightly, “I trust neither was injured.”

“I shall look into the situation myself,” assured Clarissa.

Looking down at the delicate cage on the arm of the chair, “Who is this little one?” Angel asked, reaching out to touch the top of the gilt cage.

Looking down at the tiny man, “Samuel Halston III,” supplied Clarissa. “He is the author of this failed plot to usurp my power.”

For his part, Samuel appeared disinterested.

“I see,” Angel acknowledged.

“The hunt draws near to close,” Clarissa advised, as some of the participants were breaking off to leisurely play with some of the captured little people.

“I will away,” said Angel, a slight incline of her head. Clarissa rose and embraced her in a hug.

Jack and Abbie

Jack could feel Angelica moving about, her stomach muscles jostling them, trying to pull the pair into the pyloric end of her stomach. Collectively they made an effort to stay as far up as they could in the giant woman’s stomach. He guessed he’d been there an hour, he didn’t know how long for Abbie, when suddenly water poured into the stomach, splashing down on them, cool and clean. Abbie clung tighter to him. The air was close and breathing made difficult by damaged ribs and clavicle was a chore. He wondered if the depleted atmosphere would allow them to pass out before the digestion process began. He hoped so, if not, he knew what he would do, end Abbie’s suffering before it became too painful. He caressed Abbie’s hair and despite the humid heat, she shivered.

The sudden contraction was excruciatingly painful and he found himself slammed up against the upper portion of her stomach, his broken bones screamed out in agony. He lost hold of Abbie. A second heave turned him completely over. The push was so intense, he thought for sure he would be crushed as he was pulled back up the esophagus and expelled. There was bright light and he splashed down into very cold water before surrendering to darkness.

Angelica smiled down at the pair as she wiped spittle and trace vomit from her lips. Clare stood behind Angelica, holding blond locks from spilling into the toilet bowl.

 “Jack!” exclaimed Clare, concern for his unconscious body bobbing face down in the toilet bowl.

Reaching into the bowl, Angelica submerged her hand under Abbie and lifted the girl out of the cold water.

“Who is she?” Clare asked, reaching into the bowl to fish Jack out.

“Abigail Halston,” replied Angelica, holding a shivering Abbie aloft.

“Why?” asked Clare, closing her hands over Jack’s battered body, suffusing him with healing energy.

“As soon as I saw her I felt something latent in her, not sure what it is, just a sense,” explained Angelica with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“So you thought to rescue her?”

“We were rescuing Jack anyway,” she replied.

Clare frowned.

Clarissa

Clarissa watched as the hunt drew to its close. With all of the prey accounted for, several of the women not still lingering with playthings sought permission to depart the field.

Rising from the chair, Clarissa turned to Hilde. “Is it just my sensibilities or do you also find it unusual for Angelica and Clare to retire from the hunt prior to its conclusion?” she asked.

Hilde shook her head. “I suspect there may be a connivance afoot. Would you have me check on the girls?”

Clarissa shook her head. “Finish here. I’ll check on the girls personally.”

“Of course Mistress,” added Hilde with a bob of the head. “And him?” she asked, directing her gaze to the cage.

“Keep him handy, I am still undecided,” advised Clarissa. With that, she left.

Back in Angelica’s apartment, the conversation between Angelica and Clare was cut short by a knocking on the door.

“Probably Angela or Clarice, I’m guessing the hunt is done,” said Angelica, rising from the table to respond to the gentle rapping. “It’s about…,” the rest of the words got stuck in her throat as she beheld Clarissa.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Angelica hastily, a quick nod of her head.

Clare looked startled as her mother rounded the corner. She thought to try and make a grab for Abbie, but realized it was too late, her mother had already seen the tiny figure on the table.

Walking to the table, “What do we have here?” Clarissa asked, looking down on the diminutive form.

“Abigail Halston,” answered Angelica.

“Halston? You are Samuel’s daughter?” asked Clarissa.

Abbie inclined her head. “Your father made some very unflattering comments regarding his children,” Clarissa said bluntly.

“My father was none too discreet about his displeasure with me,” answered Abbie, eyes downcast, body shaking.

Facing the girls, “Why is she here?” Clarissa asked.

“I came across her during the hunt, I sensed something in her, latent talent, I’m not sure, but I thought it might be worth preserving,” explained the blonde.

“Which is why you left early,” nodded Clarissa, constructing the pieces of the rationale.

Angelica nodded.

 “Indeed. Come forward Abigail,” Clarissa instructed, a smile on her face as she sat at the table. Abbie complied with the instruction, still visibly trembling. Clarissa studied her intently, nodding. Turning to Angelica, she said, “Astute observation, there is most assuredly a thread there, very perceptive of you,” she complimented.

“What’s going to happen to her?” asked Clare.

Clarissa returned her gaze to Abbie. “That depends on Abigail.”

“Me?” asked Abbie meekly, very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the three gigantic women.

“Angelica has identified an affinity to magic buried deeply in you. I want to explore that talent to see the degree of your potential,” explained Clarissa. “I would like to initiate training so we can harness your abilities, but…” she left the rest dangling.

“But what?” Clare asked when Abbie remained silent.

“In order to unlock whatever abilities are buried deep within her, she will need to face her father to break his hold over her,” Clarissa answered, pieces falling into place.

“I don’t want to face him,” pleaded Abbie.

“You need not fear, for the first time in your life when you deal with this man, you shall have the upper hand,” reassured Clarissa. Smiling, she tenderly touched Abbie’s face and the young woman was instantly restored to her normal size, an inch over five feet. Even at her full height and as slender as she was, she seemed small amidst the company of women around the table.

“There, that’s better,” said Clarissa, extending a hand to the still trembling woman. Abbie accepted it. Together the pair departed.

Once Clarissa had gone with Abbie, Clare let out a big sigh of relief. “I think she was surprised by Abbie, but I wonder why she didn’t say anything about Jack,” Clare commented, pleased that somehow he had evaded the notice of her mother. Angelica shrugged.

Abbie

Hilde remained until the final participant in the hunt had departed, then she sealed the environment. Carrying the golden cage as she walked back to her car, her cell phone rang. Clarissa provided very explicit instructions. Returning to the building, she constructed two blank rooms separated by a two way mirror. Each room was featureless and gray. The room on the mirrored side of the glass possessed a table and two chair. A single light illuminated the room from the ceiling. Setting the cage on the table, she awaited the arrival of her mistress.

Clarissa arrived back at the holding where the environment used in the hunt had been constructed. She smiled at Abbie as she got out of the car, “Your view was probably a lot different on the way out.”

Abbie nodded, closing the passenger door.

“Inside we will enter into an interrogation room. You will be able to see your father. He will be with Hilde, my assistant. This will be difficult to hear, and I know a lot has happened, but I want you to free yourself from him, see him for who he is. He cannot see you,” Clarissa said. Facing the glass, she nodded.

Hilde reciprocated the gesture. Pivoting in her seat, she turned to the cage. “During your interaction with Clarissa, you said you possessed little regard for your progeny. What of your children?” Hilde asked.

He turned to look at her, a snide expression on his face. “You wish to engage me in idle chit-chat?”

“I’m just trying to fathom a man who views the world from your perspective,” Hilde replied.

“Do you possess children?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Then let me enlighten you about children. They are a waste of effort. William is an utter disappointment, vain and arrogant, with little value. Abigail is a vapid cow. Samuel is the only one with any promise, unrealized as it might be. Nevertheless, each is no more than a squirt of seed that could just as easily wound up down Lorraine’s throat as in her cunt,” he replied dispassionately.

“What if I told you, by fortunate circumstance, Abigail is still alive?” Hilde asked.

“That then would be a testament to the ineptitude of your little coterie, rather than any action undertaken by my Abigail.”

“Harsh words,” commented Hilde.

“I am told there is potential in Abigail,” Hilde added.

“Did you know that pregnancy complications killed my wife Lorraine? Abigail had to be cut from her dead mother’s womb. I always knew that made her chaste blood special, valuable, but talent? Hardly.”

Hilde nodded. “Blood such as that would be imbued with certain benefits to one schooled in the arts, or to her, should she chose to pursue an education in the arts.”

Samuel scoffed. “She doesn’t have the disposition for it. Her only value would be as a sacrifice or a brood mare for selective breeding. I will confess I am surprised the stupid little creature survived,” he acknowledged.

Hilde looked to the window. Clarissa nodded.

“I think you’ve said enough,” Hilde stated. Rising from the chair she opened the cage and removed Samuel. She set him on the table before taking the cage away. At the door she paused, “I commend you for not pleading and bartering for your life, but you are an asshole.” She closed the door behind her.

Samuel smirked.

Tears streamed down Abbie’s face listening to her father speak so caustically about his only daughter. She fought so hard to gain his approval, a gesture, a nod, something to validate her, but he had always been so aloof, distant, now she knew why.

“I did not bring you here to torture you, only to open your eyes to the man that brought you forth into this world. What little regard he had for you. I also want you to know he no longer has any power over you,” Clarissa added.

“I want you talk to him,” Clarissa said. Abbie nodded and Clarissa led her to the door of the interrogation room.

He looked so small and vulnerable to her, standing on the barren table, nothing to hide behind. He just stood there, small and insignificant but posture full of hubris. Abbie closed the door behind and approached the table.

“Father,” she said softly.

Inclining his head, “Abigail,” he replied.

“It seems you have done well for yourself. What did they offer you to betray me, some pretty ribbons perhaps?” he accused, voice sarcastic and full of derision.

Abbie frowned. “I was inside a girl’s stomach waiting to be digested, I never betrayed you,” she defended.

“And yet here you stand in all your vainglory. I would expect such from William. I suppose you are quite pleased to see me diminished thus,” he sniped, spreading his arms.

Sitting down at the table, Abbie placed a hand to either side of her father. “I take no pleasure from your situation, but I do want to know if you ever loved me,” she said.

“Love you? Now you mock me,” he chastised.

“Did you ever love me?” she asked again, this time more softly.

“No,” he replied matter of fact. “I had affection for your mother, but you robbed me of her.”

“How can you be so cruel?” she asked, eyes spilling over with fresh tears.

“Stop wasting your tears you silly girl, be done with whatever it is they have sent you here to do,” he said, a scornful look on his handsome face as he glanced toward the giant mirror.

Abbie snatched him up in her right hand. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me!” she yelled, squeezing him tighter and shaking her fist slightly.

“Better that you had been digested in that girl’s stomach and shat out because you were never worthy of my love.”

Abbie pushed herself to standing with her left hand and brought him near her face. “You have no idea what it was like, waiting to be dissolved and digested,” she said loudly, gently shaking her head.

He waved his one free arm dismissively at her, as if he no longer cared to participate in the conversation. “Be done with you, I’ve no further,” before he could finish, she stuffed him in her mouth and hastily swallowed him whole, feeling him move down her esophagus. She slumped back into the chair, placed her head on her arms and began to cry.

“That was a little bold,” Hilde commented to Clarissa behind the glass.

“I needed her to have this closure. I wasn’t sure the depth of his hold on her,” Clarissa said before joining Abbie in the other room.

Wrapping her arm around the trembling girl’s shoulder, Clarissa said, “He was too wrapped up in his own personal pursuit to recognize your talent. We will teach you to harness that magic.”

Abbie sniffled. Leaning back, eyes red from crying, she stated, “I wish to learn.”

Clarissa patted Abbie’s stomach. “Now he will learn what you went through.”

Abbie nodded. “I don’t think I would have made if not for Jack,” she admitted.

“Jack?” asked Clarissa.

“Jack Dalton, we were together in that girl’s stomach. He said it was our meet-cute story,” she chuckled, able to appreciate the humor in it now.

“I’m sorry, Jack didn’t make it,” Clarissa said, offering a sympathetic look.

Abbie’s eyes welled up. “He said he was hurt bad, I guess coming back up was too much for him,” she said, bottom lip quivering.

“What do you mean, coming back up?” asked Clarissa, puzzled.

“You know,” she said, putting a finger in her mouth to mime inducing vomiting.

“He came out with you?”

“At the apartment. When the dark haired girl took him out of the toilet, he was face down in the water, but I didn’t know he had died,” she said, choking back a sob.

Clarissa looked at the mirror. Hilde shrugged. Turning back to Abbie, Clarissa said, “There are going to be a whole lot of questions surrounding recent events so I’m going to send you with Hilde. She’ll help you get prepared for the difficult road ahead. Not just with your tutelage but the legal ramifications of your father’s affairs.”

Getting up, she left, the look of determination in her eyes burned green with intensity.

Invisible

“Jack Dalton,” was all Clarissa said standing at the door of Angelica’s apartment. The resolute look on her face brooked no argument, closing the door behind her, she walked in and sat at the table while Angelica vanished into the bedroom.

Angelica re-emerged with Clare in tow. Clare carried a small folded cloth in her hand. Gently, she laid it down on the table in front of her mother.

“How were you able to conceal him from me?” Clarissa asked, tone firm. She pulled back the folded cloth and looked down on the slumbering tiny naked man.

“I have not mother, I swear,” pleaded Clare, exchanging glances with Angelica.

“Which of you girls were in on this?” she asked.

“Clarice, Angela, Angelica and I all made arrangements to try and get him out,” confessed Clare, knowing better than to try and lie.

Clarissa looked down upon him and frowned. She was looking right at him, but every other sense she possessed, magical or otherwise said they was nothing there. Reaching down she prodded his chest with her right index finger.

“How is this possible? How are you hidden from my magic?” she asked of little slumbering form, before looking to the girls.

Clare shrugged. “We are not doing anything,” she said innocently.

“It’s not us,” added Angelica with a quick shrug of her shoulders and a look of innocence.

Clarissa waved her hand over his sleeping body. His left forearm began to glow white. At first a slow smile spread across Clarissa’s gorgeous face, then she began to laugh out loud.

“What is it mother?” asked Clare, not understanding the sudden mirth.

“That girls is a protective sigil,” she started, pointing at the luminescent mark on Jack’s arm. “One belonging to Garth if I’m not mistaken,” she finished, voice bordering on jubilation.

Neither of the girls had ever met Garth, but they both knew who he was, they all knew his name. He was like Clarissa. A being of immense and ancient power. He had been called many things throughout the ages but mostly trickster or mischief incarnate. It was a divine chess match, played in perpetuity between the gods and goddesses of old. Except for Garth, he lived outside the Covenant, the divine consensus agreement, not bound as all the others. He moved with impunity, taking particular delight in taunting goddesses. No matter how hard the female deities tried, they could never capture him, never even getting close.

The feeling she and Angel had felt was him come to deliver this sigil to this mortal man.

“But why would he mark Jack?” asked Angelica.

“Why indeed?” asked Clarissa. Folding the cloth back over him, she rose from the table. “I am taking him.”

“As you will mother,” replied Clare with a head nod.

Lineage

Jack awoke, feeling refreshed and invigorated. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on top of a piece of fabric, silky, like a handkerchief. Sitting up, he realized he was naked. “Crap,” he mumbled before taking stock of where he was. The room was dimly lit, cavernous, filled with books and like some study or private library. He was lying in the middle of a blotter on a large ornate desk. Sudden movement drew his attention as Clarissa leaned forward in her high backed chair and put her elbows on the desk.

“You are Jack Dalton,” she said, a statement not a question, voice seductive and alluring, the stuff to fuel masculine fantasy, wide beautiful smile on her lovely face.

He nodded blankly.

“How are you here?” she asked.

He looked around. “Poor lifestyle choices?” he quipped. She frowned slightly. Clearing his throat, “I’m not sure where here is, last thing I remember was splashing down in a toilet bowl,” he replied.

She strummed the blood red nails of the fingers of her left hand against the desk top and fixed him with a stern look. She passed her right hand in front of him.

The sigil on his arm glowed white. “Where did you get that?” she asked, pointing at the luminescent mark. He looked down and appeared surprised by the mark.

“I dreamed I got a tattoo,” he replied with a shrug, still looking at the mark.

“A dream? Tell me of this dream, I am keen to hear it,” she instructed, lowering her right hand to the desk. Now he was between her hands.

“It was right after me and Clarice were, you know,” he started.

“You were with Clarice?” she clarified.

He nodded. “On her birthday.”

“On her birthday?”

He nodded again.

Clarissa leaned back in her chair and nodded. “You claimed her maidenhead,” she murmured, mind linking the information. Her lips curled into a devilish smile. “Then what?” she asked.

“Then I fell asleep,” he started.

“Passed out,” she interjected.

“Passed out, fell asleep, same thing. Anyway, then I had this dream,” he advised, relaying the specifics to her.

 “Did you see the artist?”

“Yes, young guy, dark hair, like mine but longer, bout my height. He talked about rocket fuel and fledgling goddesses and a match or some such. Said this was his first tattoo,” answered Jack.

“So, let me see if I understand the sequence of events. While in your current situation, you and Clarice shared some intimate time, where you deflowered her,” she began.

“Yeah, like that was all me, I deflowered her,” he said, then he smiled. “I did make her put on her ‘O’ face though.”

“While still inside my daughter?”

“Yes,” he said with a wink.

“So you were basking in the afterglow of your encounter and Garth shows up and provides you with a sigil of protection.”

“I don’t know any Garth, the guy looked like a kid, never said his name, but he did talk about blood and sex magic.”

Clarissa smiled. It was the kind of smile that made Jack shudder.

Another woman appeared in the periphery of his vision. Though gigantic, she appeared shorter than Clarissa and very slender. She possessed long dark hair, board straight, and a pale complexion. Her eyes are what captivated him, they were completely black, no iris or white, just black orbs. He shuddered.

“To understand or unravel the sigil, I think the solution seems pretty straight forward, remove the arm,” said the smaller dark haired lady with black soulless eyes.

“Whoa just a moment there sweetheart,” Jack protested holding his hands up in her direction.

Stepping closer, she tilted her head, fixed her black eyes on him and smiled, “I cannot recall the last time one has called me sweetheart.”

The smile froze Jack’s blood to the bone. Not one given to fits of fear, he was now very afraid.

“Stop Destiny, you’ll scare the poor boy half to death,” said a soft mellifluous voice from somewhere behind. The smaller dark haired woman released him from her gaze, looked over him and smiled.

“Angel, it is good to see you,” commented Destiny warmly.

Jack turned to look at the woman called Angel. At once he saw the resemblance of this woman and the twins Angela and Angelica and knew this must be their mother. He wanted to make a wisecrack but found he had no voice, he was overawed by her presence. She smiled warmly at him. “Hello Jack,” she greeted, soft blue eyes mesmerizing him. He babbled something incoherent by way of response.

A soft chuckle from elsewhere in the room jarred him back to reality. He turned, eyes lingering on Angel a moment longer before he espied another woman. She was a stunning brunette with wavy long chestnut colored hair. Her eyes were a moss green, flecked with light brown possessed of a wisdom that made her seem more mature than she looked. She was modestly attired in a light blouse and dark slacks.

She smiled at Jack, “Tera,” she said, introducing herself.

“Bwah,” he replied.

“There is some resemblance,” commented Angel.

“A dalliance?” asked Tera, looking at Jack

“Perchance,” commented Destiny, leaning in closer to appraise his features.

“That would explain why he might risk the sigil to prevent us from discovering the consanguineal bond,” added Clarissa.

Angel reached out to Jack with her right hand and touched him lightly on his head with her index finger. Smiling, she said, “Perhaps you should sleep little one.”

Jack and Abbie

Jack awoke with a start. He was on the kitchen table at Clare’s mother’s house. Clare and Clarice were there along with the twins. Angelica looked down at him. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I dreamed about being caught in a giant spider web,” he answered with a shudder.

“What happened?” asked Clare.

“Woke up on your mom’s desk, there were other women there,” he paused, pointed at the twins, your mom was there. A creepy chick named Destiny and another woman named Tera.” He looked at the women around the table and asked, “Where’s Abbie?”

Angela turned to look somewhere away from the table, “Abbie,” she called.

The slender daughter of Samuel Halston walked into view. “Hi Jack,” she said greeting him with a warm smile and a wave of her hand. He smiled back and let out a sigh of relief.

“They called Destiny the spider. She may have visited you in your dream,” Clarice provided.

“A real charmer that one,” he remarked sardonically.

“I was concerned, they said you were dead,” said Abbie.

He smiled, “Tales of my demise are greatly exaggerated. I see you have done well for yourself,” he commented, leaning forward to look down her body and back up to her face.

“They said they found some talent in me and are willing to teach me to harness my abilities,” she answered. “I wanted to say thank you for your words of comfort while we were, you know,” she added, flicking a glance in Angelica’s direction.

He smiled broadly, “No worries darling.”

“And…” she began, looking somewhat sheepish.

“And what?” he asked.

“This is hard for me to say,” she said.

“Given our peculiar history, I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll be okay,” he reassured.

She hesitated. “I’ve never been with a man,” she blurted.

He let out a sigh and chuckled. “It’s okay, I’ve never been with a man either.”

She smiled at the jest. “I don’t know how to begin. Angelica said she would help me, but…”

“Oh,” he said, grasping the direction the conversation was headed.

“My mother has said for your cooperation in this liaison, you will be restored,” Clare informed, a slight frown on her face.

Jack ignored her. Looking up at Abbie he walked toward her. “Is this what you want?” he asked.

She looked away and blushed.

“Alright then,” he said, looking at the others around the table.

“Shall we get started?” asked Angelica.

Abbie nodded. Angelica reached her hand down and he climbed into her palm. She smiled at Abbie and took her hand before walking to Clare’s bedroom. Once there, she set Jack down upon the bed and smiled at Abbie.

Abbie returned the smile and began to disrobe. She seemed shy, turning slightly as more of her naked flesh was exposed. Slender built, she possessed small pert breasts crowned with small pink nipples. Her golden blonde pubic hair had been trimmed.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, you are a very beautiful young lady,” reassured Angelica

 “I‘m not sure what to do,” she said, quasi-embarrassed.

“It’s ok, let me show you,” whispered Angelica, stepping forward and caressing Abbie’s breasts. She kissed Abbie on the mouth. Jack watched as Angelica expertly aroused Abbie and teased her senses. Reaching down she picked Jack up and guided Abbie down onto the bed. Angelica arranged Jack so his legs were secure in her mouth, while his top half protruded from between her lips. Leaning in close, Angelica brought her face close to Abbie’s. The smaller blonde woman, gently kissed Jack’s torso with her lips before opening her mouth to touch him with the tip of her tongue. Angelica lowered him into Abbie’s mouth until the women’s lips touched, then they shared a kiss. Angelica pulled back, Jack still held firmly in her lips. Shifting downward, she traced the aureoles of Abbie’s breasts with him.

Setting Jack on his feet atop Abbie’s neat pubic hair, “Remember, once he’s in there, he won’t be able to breathe for long, I’ll leave the rest for you two,” Angelica said, herself a little breathless. Rising, she left the room.

Turning, Jack scaled down her slippery sodden swollen pussy, trying to steady himself as she bucked against the sensation.

Reaching down she helped by parting her outer labia and tilting her pelvis to allow him access. Pushing his arms inside her, he felt her other hand gather him by the feet and begin inserting him inside her. He encounter the resistance, but the membrane seemed to yield much easily than with Clarice and there was very little blood. The mark on his arm seemed to flare and provide flashes of light as the muscular folds of Abbie’s femininity undulated and moved around him. Trying to twist himself into to position, he began to stimulate her in earnest, kneading caressing all of her most sensitive places. He could feel her body begin to tense, her juices flowing copiously. Relentlessly he continued to pleasure her until she finally she experience orgasm. Convulsion after convulsion rocked her slender body. He was too small and weak to fight against the power of her vagina as it held him fast.

Jack felt his reality shift. Opening his eyes, he found himself seated in a cabaret type bar at a leather bound booth along the wall. Also seated at the table was the same youthful man who had tattooed him in the dream. Everything appeared to be normal sized, including him.

“You’re not one for learning are you?” asked the young man, shaking his head.

“Yeah, this one is all on me, I shrink myself down so I can explore random vaginas,” quipped Jack sarcastically.

The young guy let out a long breath and leaned back against the booth. “I suppose,” he conceded.

“Is your name Garth?” Jack asked.

The youth sat forward and suddenly fixed Jack with a penetrating gaze. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked, rolling an empty beer glass in his hands.

“Clarissa,” he replied.

“The goddess herself,” he replied.

“Say what now?” asked Jack, eyes widening.

“Clarissa, she’s a goddess or whatever you kooky kids are calling divine beings these days, and you, my impulsive little friend have been spelunking her daughters.”

“What?” Jack asked, trying make sense of the information.

Garth shook his head. Climbing out of the booth, he walked to the front door. Trying to open it, the door would not budge. He burst out laughing,

“You ok there pal?” asked Jack.

“Looks like the hens have caught themselves a fox,” he said with a smile. “No way Clarissa lays a trap this clever all by herself,” he commented, looking around the bar as if seeing it for the first time. “Very impressive,” he complimented. Walking back to Jack he said, “Let me guess, aside from Clarissa, probably Angel and Tera. Am I right?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I did see those women before the one called Angel put me to sleep. There was another broad there named Destiny, creepy black eyes,” Jack replied.

“Oh,” replied the youth, dropping back into the booth. “The Spider, I usually don’t try and mess around with her much, not a whole lot of ha ha in her.”

“Indeed,” replied Clarissa, walking into the bar from the door Garth had previously tried, she too proportional to the environment.

“Well done,” complimented Garth with a big grin on his face as he genuflected toward her.

“I can’t take all the credit,” she conceded modestly.

Garth shook his head. “What about the lad here?”

“He gets a free pass,” she advised, “for now.”

“And me?” he asked.

She smiled wickedly. “We have had a long time to prepare for this moment.”

He smiled back, “Me too,” he replied, a little cocky.

“Jack honey, you’re free to go,” she said, extending her arm toward the door but keeping her eyes locked on Garth.

“You and I will be in touch,” Garth said, offering his hand. Jack gave it a good shake.

Getting out of the booth, he paused beside Clarissa, a few inches taller than she. “Another time,” he said smoothly.

She paused, then smiled. “Perhaps,” she replied. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

He walked to the door, pausing a moment to look back, but both Clarissa and Garth were already gone. Stepping through the door, he was blinded by light.

End game

Jack awoke in his own bed, the room was bathed in sunlight and everything in his room had been cleaned. He was full sized. Closing his eyes, he lay on his back and tucked his hands under his head, luxuriating in the comfortable feeling of the warm sheets.

“Finally,” said a voice he recognized, Clarice. “I thought you were going to sleep forever, you know you snore?”

He cracked his eyes and looked to the door. Clarice was leaning against the jamb, Hair pulled back, sunglasses on her head. She was wearing tight white halter top, cut extremely low and bright red snug looking shorts.

“So I’ve heard. What brings you to my humble abode?” he asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow.

“I figured since you already slept with me, you should probably take me out for some food,” she answered with a grin.

“I was all the way inside you and I was almost your food,” he quipped, a smile on his own face.

“Same thing,” she replied with a mock shrug.

“What about Clare and the others?” he asked.

“Aren’t I enough for you?” she asked, eyes demure and innocent as she walked into the room and plopped on the end of his bed.

He snorted. “That’s not it, I just don’t want to get caught up in some sort of spat between girls that shrink and eat people.”

She laughed. “Relax, we’ve already reached an accord. We’ve decided we will share you, not just Clare, Angela, Angelica, and Abbie, but the others in our circle as well. Once Clarissa granted you freedom after the hunt, we got together to discuss an appropriate strategy to share you. You’ve certainly left an impression on Selene, she said you and she had unfinished business. I just got here first because this is where I figured mother would send you once she released you and besides I don’t think any of the others know where you live yet,” she supplied.

“What do you mean share?” he asked.

“Sharing is when multiple interests have equal access to a limited resource, you,” she answered with an eye roll. “The only one you might worry about is Hilde,” she said, “She was not part of the discussion.”

“I still owe her a beat down,” he murmured. “What about the rest, what am I going to be on some type of schedule or something?”

“No, just when opportunity arrives, we’ll all be like friends with benefits,” she grinned, “The benefits will be you.”

“Is your mother really a goddess?”

“Bah,” she said dismissively, “there are so many titles. I did tell you I was a princess though,” she added with a tilt of her head and a smile.

“What if I say no?” he inquired.

“We will shrink you again anyway and then just take turns,” she offered, holding the thumb and forefinger of her right hand a few inches apart.

“No more shrinking,” he said, shaking an index finger of his own at her.

She extended her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“Your mother said so,” he cautioned with a mock stern face.

Climbing on top of him, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. Grinning wickedly down at him, she said, “And we both know I always do what she tells me too.”

“Chicks,” he mumbled.

Her green eyes danced with mischief.

Loose Ends

Detective Cade McKissik scrubbed hands over his tired stubble laden face. Frown lines permanently etched into his brow. He looked at the file folder on his desk.

It hadn’t always been like this, he had been third youngest cop to make detective Robbery/Homicide in department history. Everyone said he had the knack, the instinct, and his clearance rate was remarkable. Other cops loved him, his hard no-nonsense edge, not afraid to get his hands a little bloody to solve a case, a throwback to an early age. He made several high profile arrests including the notorious Black Rose murder, the Wells Fargo armored car heist, and he was a key contributor in the apprehension of the serial killer dubbed the ‘Parkside Strangler’. He was a young gun with the Midas touch, everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. He earned numerous citations, even a Medal of Valor during the Wells Fargo shootout. But everything changed in an instant.

Three years ago. It hot been one of those long hot stifling days, no wind. Heat clinging stubbornly to the ground. By the time the warrant arrived, the sun was sinking out over the ocean, but the pervasive heat remained.

They had tracked the two remaining suspects in the botched Kensington kidnapping to a house out in the valley. Two dead kids, one dead cop, one dead suspect, everyone had itchy trigger fingers.

Tactical wanted to assume control of the scene, but Cade refused, he was the hotshot, he would take point. Vest on, he lead the way. Moving up the driveway toward the carport on the left side of the house, using the old brown Ford LTD parked there to cover their approach, Cade was followed by two other officers. Simultaneously, another group headed toward the front door, another to the rear.

A slender male, approximately six feet tall stepped out of the side door and stood hidden under the overhang. Cade froze. The figure was mostly shadowed in the dying light. Cade bought his Smith & Wesson Model 4506 up. “Hands!” he yelled, “Show me your goddamn hands!” He barked again, moving rapidly passed the car, the other two cops close behind. The figure turned, there was a sudden flash of light and Cade saw a gun.

“Drop the gun!” he yelled, but the figure seemed to ignore the command, and as if just realizing there were people creeping up the drive. The shadowy silhouette lifted the arm with the gun and Cade cracked off one shot. The flash lit up the carport, the report echoing like a thunderclap, as the .45 caliber slug hit the figure in the chest, knocking him back against the house before the figure slumped to the ground.

Moving in, Cade found the gun, it looked like a little chrome or nickel=plated .22 Beretta, and kicked it back and out of the way. Another figure appeared in the door.

“Police! Don’t move!” Cade shouted. Startled, the figure in the door immediately darted back inside. Chaos ensued, as police intrusion teams burst into the house.

Both Kensington suspects were taken into custody, as was a third man, the owner of the house, all battered and beaten during the takedown. Overall, a smooth operation, except there had been a fatality, the sixteen year old son of the house’s owner. Wearing earbuds, the kid had stepped out onto the side porch to have a cigarette. The bulb in the porch overhead light had been burned out for some time. What Cade thought was a little Beretta, turned out to be nothing more than a fancy cigarette lighter. Didn’t matter, the kid was dead.

The investigation that followed the shooting cleared Cade of wrongdoing, but the incident changed him from the gregarious extrovert he had been, to a sullen and withdrawn man driven by a ghost. The citations, the Police Medal of Valor didn’t mean shit to him anymore. Within a year, he had been re-assigned to general duties, assisting both the gang-related and organized crime task forces. He began hitting the bottle with regularity, no longer able to leave the job at work. His temperament darkened. He was suspended for beating a suspect in an interrogation room. The incident never appeared in any formal reports, but he was suspended and ordered to see a shrink. When he refused to go, his suspension became indefinite. His home life fared no better as he grew more and more estranged from his wife. He was reinstated only after he agreed to see psychiatrist as directed, but he just sat quietly through the sessions, emotionally detached. Pouring himself into work, his descent only accelerated, two years after the shooting his wife Helen left him, he barely noticed. Still only thirty one, he looked a decade older.

Back in the present, he thumbed through the file. A goddamn missing persons report, some shifty lawyer gone missing. The only reason it found its way onto his desk was because there was a suggestion the shyster was mobbed up with ties to organized crime. Thomas Edwards. Cade had heard the name before. A slick mouthpiece who manipulated the system, using loopholes and technicalities to shield those with deep enough pockets. Cade didn’t like him. A sneer crossed his face, if this scumbag lawyer was missing, maybe society was better off. Grumbling, he closed the file.

The report was filed by the lawyer’s receptionist, Michelle Denman, apparently the last person to see him.

Jumping into the unmarked charcoal gray Crown Victoria, Cade drove to the downtown building where the lawyer’s office was located. Pulling into the parking garage under the building, he found an elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. Stepping off before a bank of windows, he found the lawyer’s office.

“May I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk. He guessed she was around forty, make-up was caked on a little thick.

“I’m detective McKissik,” he replied, pulling aside the left panel of his rumpled suit jacket to show the badge on his belt. “I’m looking for Michelle Denman.”

The woman’s eyes widened, “You’re here about Tom,” she said, smiling and rising from her desk. “I’m Michelle,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook her hand and nodded. “You filed a missing persons on Mr. Thomas Edwards, correct?”

“That’s right,” she nodded.

He let out a breath before taking out a note pad from the inner pocket of his jacket. “So what makes you think Mr. Edwards is a missing person?” he asked flatly.

“It was all very strange,” she started. “It started last week Tuesday, just after four in the afternoon. A blonde woman, neatly dressed barged passed me and forced her way into Tom’s office. She didn’t have an appointment. After maybe a quarter of an hour later, he came out, told me to cancel the balance of his week, then he left.”

“Yes, very unusual,” commented the policeman, tone bordering on condescending.

“For Tom that was odd, especially because he had two court appearances scheduled, one for Wednesday, another on Friday. I just couldn’t cancel them and he never showed up for either of them,” she explained.

“Uh huh,” mumbled Cade.

“I tried his home, his cell, even his email. Nothing,” she continued.

“Yep,” he said, nodding his head.

“But here is the really strange thing, the blonde woman never came out,” she said, nodding her head slowly, eyebrows raised.

He looked up and frowned. “What?”

“The woman who went in, never came out,” Michelle repeated.

“Did you check the office?” he asked.

She nodded. “This is the only way in or out. She went in, she never came out. When I checked, the office was empty.”

“No chance she slipped past you, maybe you had to get a drink of water, pee?”

She shook her head. “He walked out, she never did.”

“Can I take a look inside the office?” he asked.

She got up and walked over to the double doors. Using her key, she opened up the office. He walked in and gave it a cursory once over. No apparent signs of a struggle.

“Anything appear out of the ordinary?” he inquired, glancing back at her.

“Not really,” she answered.

“These windows open?” he asked, moving over to one and looking down.

“Climate controlled building, none of the windows open,” she replied.

“Describe the blonde woman for me,” he said.

“5’7”, 5’8”, long blonde hair, grey business suit with skirt, white blouse, 28-35. She wore glasses. Her eyes were, like a gold or yellow color, very unnerving,” she said.

“Yellow? Contacts maybe?” he asked.

Michelle shrugged.

“Was she pretty?”

She scowled a moment then looked down and nodded. He jotted down some details in the note pad before closing it and putting it away.

“Okay,” he said. “I think that’ll probably do it for now,” taking another quick look around. Turning back to Michelle, he pulled out a card and handed it to her. “If you can think of anything else, or you remember some detail you might’ve overlooked, please give me a call,” he instructed.

She took the card and bobbed her head. “I just hope Tom is alright,” she expressed. Cade nodded. More than likely the counsellor was probably in Vegas nuts deep in some little sex kitten.

Arriving back in the parking garage, he took a moment to wander around the concrete enclosure. A heavyset man, fortyish, dressed in a fluorescent orange vest with yellow and silver striping approached him.

“Can I help you?” asked the garage attendant.

Cade nodded. “Perhaps,” he answered. “I’m detective McKissik. Maybe you can give me some information.”

The man nodded his head, “Sure.”

“Your name?” asked the cop, retrieving his notepad and pen.

“Frank Wright,” he replied.

“Been here long?”

“Going on five years about,” answered Frank.

“Are you familiar with a Mr. Thomas Edwards?”

Frank nodded. “Big time lawyer, up on fifteen.”

“That’s right. You know what kind of car he drives?”

“Sure do, silver Mercedes. Got one of those vanity plates, legal eagle, LGL EGL,” he replied. “That’s his space over there,” Frank pointed to the vacant stall with a sign that read ‘T. Edwards’ attached to the wall.

“Does he leave his car here overnight?” Cade asked.

“No sir. I work the afternoons and I’ve never seen his car here overnight. Last I remember seeing it was last,” he paused a moment, reflecting, “Tuesday.”

“You’re certain?”

Frank nodded.

Cade wrote down the information. “On my way in, I noticed some cameras. Are they active, or just for show?” he asked, smile at the corner of his mouth.

“No, they record, but we only go back for about two weeks,” answered the attendant.

“Is the garage locked up at night?”

“Yes sir, we open every morning at five and lock it up at seven at night. Lock it up tight,” provided Frank.

“Do you think I could get a copy of the recording for all vehicles coming and going from last Tuesday morning’s open until today?” Cade asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to chase a stupid warrant

Frank nodded. “I’ll make a call to building security and see what they can do.”

Together they walked back to the security kiosk situated at the parkade entrance between the incoming and outgoing lanes. Cade thought it odd there were no barriers barring entry or exit. Frank made the call, nodding, he gave Cade a thumb’s up through the glass.

Hanging up, Frank said, “They’re going to make you a copy, chief of security said he’ll bring it down for you personally.”

“Much obliged, this the only way in or out?”

“Supposed to have another exit in case of earthquake,” he confessed, “But this is the only one we got.”

Cade laughed, “Don’t worry, I’m not a building inspector.”

It didn’t take long for the security chief to show up and give Cade a copy of the disk. He seemed overjoyed to be included in a real police investigation and fawned over Cade profusely. Cade nodded and smiled, shared his gratitude, but got the hell out of there as fast as his legs would carry him and drove back to the station.

Grabbing a coffee before heading back to his desk, he parked himself in front of his computer terminal and inserted the disk into the tray. Closing the tray, he set up the viewer while he waited for the disk to load. He knew this was going to be one of those onerous tasks where staying awake was as important as reviewing the hours and hours of recorded activities. Ten minutes into the disk, his coffee was three quarter gone and he wanted to shoot himself in the head. Speeding up the video helped, he leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand and focused on the screen as images of cars coming and going flicked by. When he caught sight of the silver Mercedes, he paused the video, backed it up and jotted down the time code, 9:46am. Must be nice to roll into work at that time of day he thought dryly. Several other vehicles came and went and he again sped up the video.

A slick little black roadster caught his eye, entering the garage at 3:59pm, a pretty blonde behind the wheel. The same vehicle left at 4:36pm, same blonde. He figure this was the one Michelle had mentioned.

“So there is our little blonde, who somehow vanished from the lawyer’s office, only to reappear in the parking garage. Not so mysterious. There’s one riddle solved,” he mumbled, scribbling her license plate in his notepad. Resuming the playback at an accelerated rate, he came to the end of the day Tuesday. He frowned. The Mercedes never left the garage. He curled up his hands and rubbed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, figuring he must have somehow missed the Mercedes leaving. Re-setting the time code to the time of the lawyer’s arrival, he re-ran the footage up until the end of day. The Mercedes never came out. He ran the tape for Wednesday, no Mercedes. Same again Thursday. He frowned. Leaning back in his chair, he mulled over the information. Blonde goes in office, never comes out, tape in the car park says different. Lawyer leaves office, but car never comes out, but car is somehow gone. He scratched his head.

He checked his watch, it was after eight o’clock. Grabbing his jacket he decided he needed a break and was going to explore another possible avenue of information. Jumping in his own car, he drove to the strip club called The Grind House. He sat a moment in his car, the flickering neon beckoning patrons inside. He knew this was an outfit run business, and he also knew the manager, Cyrus. Climbing out of the car, he crossed the street and entered the club.

“Scotch, single malt, rocks,” he ordered, leaning against the bar. The bartender returned with the drink, Cade pushed a ten across the counter. “Keep it. Cyrus here tonight?” he asked nonchalantly.

The bartender held eye contact for a minute before flicking a glance at the bouncer and turning away. Cade smiled and pivoted to face the bouncer as the bruiser walked up. Cade was no shrimp at 6’2” and a solid 215, but the bouncer was few inches taller and easily outweighed him by about a hundred pounds.

“Something I can help you with friend?” asked the bouncer, tone menacing, smirk on his thick face.

“I hope so,” Cade, answered, pulling aside the left side of his jacket far enough to reveal both badge and hogleg shoulder holster.

The bouncer looked down at the brass and gun, paused a moment, eyes narrowed.

Letting the go the jacket, “Let Cyrus know this is just a friendly social call, I’m not looking to stir up anything,” he said, holding the glass in front of him and clinking the ice cubes.

The bouncer grunted then walked away. Cade watched the lumbering hulk navigate through the tables, before passing the stage and vanishing into the back. Cade’s eyes lingered on the naked blond girl wrapped around the brass pole before draining the contents of his glass.

The goon reappeared a couple minutes later. “Mr. Traynor will see you,” he said, gesturing back the way he had come with a big meaty hand.

Cade nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry, I know the way,” he answered, walking into the back hall of the Grind House. The office was at the end of the hall, door open.

“Cade McKissik as I live and breathe, nothing but department’s best and brightest here in our little slice of heaven tonight,” replied the short, aging man, attired an open dress shirt and dress pants. Although short, he was thick, easily over two hundred pounds of residual muscle gained earlier in life.

“Arvin ‘Little Train’ Traynor,” Cade replied with a smile, recognizing the man and stepping into the office. “I see life higher up the outfit food chain has been treating you good,” he added, patting his own stomach.

“What brings you to our little establishment tonight officer?” Little Train asked, not bothering to rise, but offering Cade a seat at one of the chairs across from the desk.

“It’s detective now. I came here hoping to talk to Cyrus,” Cade replied, dropping his ass into a chair.

“Looks like we’ve both moved up in our respective worlds. You want something to drink or you on the job?”

“Scotch, single malt, rocks, nothing juvenile like the shit you’re peddling up front,” Cade replied.

Arvin laughed then rang the order times two through on the desk phone to the front.

“Since we’re being all sociable and the like, maybe you could enlighten me as to why you’re looking for Cyrus,” Little Train said, tone serious, eyes scrutinizing the cop.

“I’m chasing a missing persons report, some grease bag lawyer with alleged connections to your little band of merry men, has up and vanished. I was wondering if he might have had reason to take a sudden vacation.” Cade replied. “I figured maybe Cyrus could point me in a direction.”

Arvin spread his hands, “Don’t know what to tell you, I’m in the dark about your missing lawyer, straight skinny.”

Cade frowned, he knew the one time enforcer now underboss was on the level. Even though they were on opposite sides of the law, there was a begrudging mutual respect. A scantily clad girl arrived with two drinks, set them down, before Arvin waved her away. Cade grabbed the glass and took a pull. “That’s good,” he complimented looking at the generous portion of amber liquid in the glass.

“Should be, it’s probably as old as you are,” chuckled Arvin, inclining his glass before taking a sip. “Now, I got one for you detective, Cyrus and a bunch of his crew left this very place last Tuesday in the middle of the afternoon, and no one has heard from any of them since. Vanished, straight into thin air, no blood, no bodies, just gone, and nobody knows shit, even left all their cars behind,” he explained, opening his the fingers on his left hand blowing through them like there was a puff of smoke lingering there.

“Which explains why they have you here,” nodded Cade.

Arvin lifted his glass and winked.

“I didn’t know,” replied Cade honestly, he hadn’t heard about Cyrus disappearing.

“The fact you came here looking for Cyrus tells me you probably didn’t know about his disappearance, but maybe you heard something about a new player in town trying to make some bones, somebody maybe looking to make a play in this territory.”

Cade frowned. He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Nothing out of the ordinary showed up on my desk. I’d of heard. Your boys maybe have something on the go? Step on some toes, got stepped on in return?”

Little Train shrugged. “If Cyrus had something big on the go, he kept in low profile. I do know he was going to do some business here Tuesday around noon, but all indications were is was small time. Whether or not it happened, or it went sideways, I have no clue. When it came time to open up Tuesday night, Benny found the place was deserted.”

“My missing lawyer was also last seen Tuesday afternoon. Weird coincidence,” Cade mused, rolling the ice cubes around the inside of his glass.

Arvin let out a long sigh. “Crazy shit.”

Cade drained his glass and set it on the desk. Standing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two business cards. He handed them both to Arvin. “That’ll come straight through to me, you hear something that might interest me, call me. Write your digits on the other card, I’ll do the same for you.”

Arvin laughed. “Fair enough,” he replied, scribbling his cell number down on one of the cards and handing back to Cade.

Taking the card, Cade nodded and put it into his pocket.

Heller International

The following morning, he awoke late, He’d spent most the night tossing and turning and trying make some sense of the evidence. Grabbing a shower and a quick shave, he headed into work, stopping at the drive through at Donut world on the corner near the station. 

He stopped at the administrative assistant Rebecca’s desk and handed her a cup of coffee, “Double-double,” he said pleasantly.

She scowled. “What do you want?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

He grinned. “I need you to do me a tiny favor ASAP, can you to run this plate number for me, get me a name, address, any other details you night think pertinent?” he asked, making a sweet face and handing her a piece of paper with the plate number on it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied, making sure he saw he eye roll.

Cade walked to his desk and sat down and went back to his computer. Not more than a few minutes later, Rebecca appeared.

“I ran the plate like you asked, belongs to a Hildegarde Helvet, owner of black 2015 Audi R8, but it brought up a flag too. This plate number was run by a North Division uniform named Gerald Taylor, who, along with his cruiser vanished last Monday night,” she said.

Cade looked at her a moment, wrapping his brain around the information. “You’re shitting me,” he said, half smirk on his face, thinking she might actually be pulling his leg.

She shook her head. “Nope. Central got an RFI on this plate number during a routine stop leading into the hills Monday 11:26pm. Taylor never returned to clock out at the end of his shift. Not been heard from since. North Division is conducting their own investigation.”

He sat upright in the chair. “What the fuck is going on around here?” he asked rhetorically, throwing his hands up in the air. Looking back to Rebecca, he asked, “What about GPS on the cruiser?”

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and shook her head again. “Just gone.”

He held her brown eyes a moment before shaking his own head. “That’s just fucking great!” he snapped. She handed him the paper with the contact information. He held his hand up, “I’m sorry Beck. I appreciate you doing this for me. This thing has got me spinning three ways from Sunday and the deeper I get, the less sense everything seems to make.”

She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a consoling smile. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” she teased.

He snorted. Taking the paper, he reviewed the information. He needed to meet this Hildegarde Helvet and see if he couldn’t get to the bottom of this mess.

The Heller International building, a giant circular mirrored building downtown, sat like a gem amidst a well cultivated green space. Parking his unmarked police car, he entered the oversized glass doors at the front of the building.

“May I help you?” asked the receptionist seated behind an impressive desk, a pretty young woman with a welcoming smile.

“My name is detective McKissik, I’m here to see Hildegarde Helvet if she is available,” he said.

“Is she expecting you?” the receptionist inquired politely.

He shook his head. “Just hoping to catch her in by the off chance,” he explained.

“I’ll see if she’s in the building and receiving visitors,” offered the young woman, favoring him anew with her smile. “You can have a seat over there,” she said, pointing to a row of plush chairs near a table littered with magazines as she tapped the numbers of the desk phone connected to the earpiece she wore.

Cade walked over and sat down, sifting through the stack of magazines, settling on one with a football player on the cover.

The young woman walked over, “She’ll be down in a moment detective. May I get you anything while you wait? Coffee? Soda? Water?” she asked, hands together before her.

“No thanks,” he replied. She nodded and retreated back behind the large desk.

A woman matching the description provided by the lawyer’s receptionist appeared from a hall to the left of the big desk. The receptionist looked at the woman, then pointed to Cade.

The woman turned to face him and he was momentarily taken aback. She was extremely attractive, a small almost coy smile on her lips, clothes accentuating a perfectly proportioned form. Her blond hair pulled back and her delicate glasses gave her a professional demeanor. But most of all, it was her eyes that captured him. The Denman woman had been right, it was the eyes. Gold, like a wolf.

Reaching him, “Detective McKissik,” she said with a smile and handing him her business card before offering him her hand.

He cleared his throat. “Cade, please. I appreciate your taking time out of your busy day to see me Miss Helvet,” he said, accepting hand and shaking it.

“Hilde is fine, anything I can do to be of assistance,” she offered, withdrawing her hand from his. “Did Sadie offer you some refreshments?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I’m good, thank you.”

“If you would follow me,” she said, leading him down the hall she’d appeared from to what appeared to be a large vacant boardroom. He tried to maintain his eyes at a respectful level, but couldn’t help but notice the sensual sway of her hips and toned bottom as she walked. In her wake, he could smell her subtle perfume, tantalizing and inviting.

As she walked, she considered him. She had seen it in those washed out hazel eyes of his, he was damaged, tortured by some inner turmoil. The battle still raged within him. She pondered as she opened the door for him to enter the empty room, maybe it was that, or maybe something else, some intangible quality about him that made him appealing to her. She felt she knew him, or least the type, he wouldn’t beg, he would kick and scream and fight until the very end. A smile touched her face.

“Please,” she said, pulling out one of the large chairs lined along the massive table and indicating for him to sit. He sat, she pulled out a chair beside him, but inside of sitting, she stood near him, resting her bum against the edge of the table. “How may I help you today?” she asked, folding her arms under her breasts and looking down to him.

He pulled out a notepad and pen and set them on the table. “I’m in the middle of an investigation and I was hoping you might be able to provide me some information,” he said. She smiled and when she didn’t say anything, he continued, “Are you familiar with a Mr. Thomas Edwards?”

“Certainly, he is a barrister. I saw him,” she paused a moment as if looking for an answer, “last Tuesday afternoon, fourish, if my memory is correct.”

He nodded. “When you saw him did he seem I don’t know, perturbed or agitated? Frightened?”

“Our conversation was somewhat confidential in nature, but I could certainly categorize his demeanor as somewhat agitated,” she replied.

He nodded. “Can you say by what, or are you not at liberty to say?” he asked.

She pursed her lips. “I do believe our interaction did not go as he anticipated, and this may have been a source of anxiety for him, but that’s only speculation.”

“Can you discuss the nature of your interaction that might have made him anxious?” Cade asked.

“Sorry, that’s privileged,” she said.

“Did you see the receptionist on your way out?”

“I do believe I did,” Hilde said, nodding in the affirmative.

“Are you sure?”

She smiled. “Yes. If there is anything else?” she asked

He frowned. “I don’t think so,” he replied, folding and closing his notepad before tucking it back into his pocket.

“Again, thank you for sparing me some time, especially unannounced like this, I suppose I should have called ahead to set something up,” he said, rising from the chair and offering her his hand.

Accepting his hand in hers, she shook it, holding it a moment as their eyes met, before releasing him. “No problem,” she added.

He smiled. “Oh wait, there was just one other thing, the police pulled you over near the base of the Hills last Monday, do you recall?”

“An officer cautioned me about speed at that time of night. I explained this all to the other uniformed officers the other day, I’m sure they could provide you with my responses from that interview,” she answered.

“Of course,” he said, “I didn’t realize they had come to talk to you yet.”

Pushing herself forward from the table, she held out her arm toward the conference room doom.

He walked to the door, pausing before pushing it open. Over his shoulder, he asked, “Does the name Cyrus mean anything to you?”

“Should it?” she responded.

Looking around the environment, he smiled. “No, I suppose not. I think I can see myself out.”

“It’s alright, I’ll walk you,” she said, stepping in beside him as he headed back toward the front desk.

In the lobby, he shook her hand once more before handing her one of his cards. He smiled and turned away. He didn’t think she was lying, but she certainly knew more than she was letting on, his gut told him so. She was definitely involved, but he just couldn’t connect the dots. Not yet at least.

She was utterly unconcerned about the progress of his investigation or possible legal entanglements as she watched him walk out of the building. Strumming her painted, manicured nails on the desk top, a smile touched her pretty mouth. She enjoyed this game with him. He intrigued her. She decided she wanted him. Turning to Sadie. She said, “Get me an information packet on detective McKissik.”

Sadie nodded her head, “Right away Hilde,” she replied.

Unlawful Entry

Out in the parking lot Cade sat in the car, contemplating, replaying his meeting with the golden eyed Hildegarde Helvet. There were layers to this woman. She was playing with him, he could tell. Her answers were all very deliberate and carefully worded. The question was why? What was the point to the game? He very much wanted to unravel her mystery. Since she was at work, he made a decision, he was going to check out her home. Retrieving the paper Rebecca had given him earlier in the day from his suit jacket pocket, he studied it a moment then pulled the seatbelt across his chest and fastened it. He started the car and put it into gear. He didn’t know what he expected or hoped to find at her place, he just wanted to sniff around for anything that might help him fathom her and point him in the direction of a solid lead.

She lived in a very hoity-toity two story house off the Pacific Coast Highway, right on the beach. He wasn’t surprised given the fancy car she drove. Parking a short distance away, he walked back to her place. Given the upscale nature of the home, he was there didn’t appear to be a security system. A call to the security company could’ve circumvented the alarm, but he was pleased it would be an easy entry. Testing the handle of the door, locked. He smiled. Couldn’t have been that simple, he thought. Glancing around to see if there was anyone watching him, he pulled a set of lock picks from his pocket. The lock was straight forward and pretty easy to pick. Stealing one more furtive glance around, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, before taking out a pair of latex examination gloves from the small case on his belt. The place very open and spacious and well appointed. There was an expansive kitchen with stainless steel appliances and nouveau modern glass furniture in the dining area. A fully stocked liquor cabinet. The living room area was banked with floor to ceiling windows opening onto a deck overlooking the beach and ocean. Again expensive furniture. In a display case against the wall opposite the windows, there was what looked like a plumed Spartan or Roman helmet and a short sword encased in glass. The things looked old. He pulled out his phone and took a picture. He clicked a few more pictures before checking out the other rooms in the back of the main floor. One looked like utilitarian office space, nothing catching his interest in any of the desk drawers, another room looked like an unused guest bedroom. A bathroom with shower and toilet. A room full of mats and exercise stuff. There was a strange wooden pillar with a number of wooden pegs in it, like something he’d seen out of an old kung fu movie. A door opened into the two car garage. Unlocking the door, he peeked inside. Her Audi was out, but there was a fancy black Ducati motorcycle parked in the second stall, and a mountain bike hanging on hooks on the wall.

Upstairs, he found another social looking gathering area, fancy chairs and divans, a giant smart TV anchored to the wall. There was a hall with a two doors at the end. On the right was the master bedroom. The room was absolutely huge. A door on the left wall led to an en suite bathroom. There was a large king sized bed up against the wall opposite the door, a blanket chest pushed up against the foot. There was a large black and white plush blanket with a pretty cool wolf design on top of her bed, antique looking wooden night tables to either side, and there were two dresser, a tall one and another a little broader but shorter. A mirrored vanity completed the furniture in the room. Checking out the dressers and the vanity produced nothing, other than she had expensive taste in her delicates. Walking beside the left side of the bed, he pulled open the drawer in the night table, inside were some sex toys. Lotions, lubricants, and three glass dildos of varying size and shape. Picking up the largest of the dildos, he brought it out held the clear glass toy up in front of his face. He’d seen similar types of toys before, but this one was odd. On the blunted handle end, there appeared to be some form of stopper that could be removed. Pulling it free, the toy itself was hollow and empty inside. Furling his brow, he looked at the two pieces before reassembling them. With the stopper in place, there was a three inch space inside the dildo. Odd. He wondered at the nature of the implement and what she might possibly put inside. Setting it back as he found it, he closed the drawer. The other drawer contained several books. The walk-in closet was filled with clothes, a host of dress suit, a handful of dresses, and a ton of shoes. The bathroom off the master bedroom was huge. A large marble looking tub dominated the room. There was also a glassed in shower area, as well as the other usual amenities. Back through the master bedroom and across the hall was another room that looked like it might have once been a library but was now being used for storage space. The walls were lined with row upon row of bookshelves, each filled with books in many different languages. He smiled to himself, the archetype librarian. Clustered around the rest of the room were a number of boxes all stacked up. Under a white sheet was a huge aquarium, no water or fish, but there was what looked like some type of child’s dollhouse in it. There was nothing that set the gears in his cop brain turning. No thread that would unravel the tangled skein. He felt he was missing something, overlooking some vital element. Walking back into the master bedroom, he looked from dresser to dresser. There was no jewelry box. Every woman loved jewelry, didn’t they. She must have had a safe. His first thought was the walk-in closet. Sure enough, there is was, a pretty big metal door in behind her clothes. He tested the handle, willing it to open, but it was locked. He stared at the five foot high door and wondered about the contents. It would take quite a stretch and an exceptionally forgiving judge to draft a warrant. Inwardly, he knew he was reaching and that trying to get such a warrant would be futile. Frustrated, he pushed the clothes back across the door and exited the room. Leaving the same way he came in, making sure to lock the door behind him, his mind lingered on what possible clues might be squirrelled away in that safe.

Hilde enjoyed a leisurely drive home, with Clarissa otherwise occupied, her day consisted of ensuring all components of Heller International continued to move fluidly. Pulling the R8 into the garage, she got out and walked to the door. Digging keys out of her purse, she hit the garage door button and slid the key in the lock as the door came down. Stepping into her home, she halted immediately, something was amiss. Lingering in the air, barely noticeable, she detected a hint of a man’s cologne. Closing her eyes, she inhaled through her nose, she recognized the scent. Detective McKissik, Cade had been here, in her house. A smile touched her face and she nodded approvingly. She hadn’t anticipated this move. He had taken the game to a whole other level and in so doing, he’d inadvertently cleared the articles of the Covenant, permitting her to now play with him as she wanted, no restrictions. Dropping her keys back into the purse, she walked down the hall and set the bag on the kitchen table. Closing her eyes, she allowed power to flow through her. In her mind’s eye, she could visualize the policeman’s movements through her home, like a heat signature of everywhere he roamed after he had violated her private sanctum. Following the spectral image of Cade, she traced his path, looking where he looked to see what he might have seen. She wondered how he processed hi s information, what did he perceive, interpret the elements of her long life? She knew he lingered at Agrippa’s helmet and sword. In the master bedroom she noticed his ghostly image pause at the night table, pulling open her fun drawer. He had looked in here. Looking down into the drawer herself, she could see the slowly fading remnants of his touch on her pleasure giving device. Removing the toy he had held, she traced a finger along its smooth length and then set it back. There was no way he could know the secret of the toy and how she used it, would use it, until he was within it, and it was within her. The thought brought a small smile to her face as she closed the drawer. She moved to the other room, he had moved the sheet, seen the pen for little ones.

Returning to the master bedroom, she disrobed and walked into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, she stepped into the warm jet. She imagined reducing the policeman, the look of disbelief on his face, the defiant spirit as she slid him into her glass toy and closed the stopper behind him. Touching her sensitive place, she envisioned the pleasure to come. She brought herself to edge of release several times, hovering just at the threshold of ecstasy. She decided she was going to go out for the night.

Another piece of the puzzle

Driving back into the city proper, Cade mulled over what he saw in Hilde’s house. Something nagged at his inner cop voice, the pieces were there, but he just couldn’t assemble them into some order that made sense. pulled out his cell phone when it rang. Little Train’s number appeared on the screen.

Answering the phone. “Cade,” he said.

“It’s Arvin. Thought you might be interested to know, one of Cyrus’ boys, bone breaker named Vince, wandered into the club this afternoon. Got an interesting story to tell, says he was here the day my boys went AWOL.”

“Okay,” Cade replied.

“He said the day everybody disappeared, three women showed up here at the club in the early afternoon, two blondes and a redhead,” Arvin said.

“Okay, but I’m not following you. Is that an unusual time for your girls or do they come and go?” Cade asked.

“Little early in the day for the talent. Anyway, Vince says one of the blondes introduced herself as Hildegarde, a woman who he said looked like an accountant did all the taking. Says she never batted an eye at the shooters. Never flinched or twitched when Cyrus said he was going to rape her and cut her throat. Vince says he got a real bad feel for the whole thing. Broad asks if anybody wants to leave, Vince says he wants out and they let him go. He has no idea of what happened next, he just got out of there, laid low since. Any of this mean anything to you detective?” Arvin asked.

Cade hesitated a split second. Quid pro quo. “Woman named Hildegarde was the last one to see my missing lawyer,” he provided.

“Well, well, well, ain’t that a coincidence,” Little Train said. “Don’t suppose you know off the top of your head where I might find this Hildegarde?”

“I questioned her earlier today, don’t know how much help she might be,” Cade replied.

Arvin chuckled, a menacing sound. “I wouldn’t mind a little Q & A with her, we got different ways of asking questions you and me.”

Cade knew what these animals were capable of, they would torture her, get her to talk, then kill her. It would be ugly. The white knight in him wanted to protect her.

“Come now Cade, I thought we were friends, working together to sort this shit out. I tell you what. You tell me where I can find this Hildegarde, and I’ll tell you a little something about what Cyrus was running. It involves an old pal of yours,” Arvin offered.

“Oh, who?” Cade asked.

“The Hammer,” Little Train answered, infusing drama in his response.

Jack fucking Dalton. Cade let out a breath. They’d had a couple of petty run-ins before, nothing major until the Wells Fargo job. One of the informants dropped Dalton’s name, so Cade brought him in. He knew Jack knew who the principal players were, but Dalton didn’t say a goddamn word. They beat him for two days trying to crack him, but he never rolled. In the end, there was enough circumstantial evidence, with a little collusion to send the Hammer up the river for a deuce. That was before Cade shot the kid. Didn’t much matter, there would definitely be no love lost as far as Jack was concerned.

“I thought Jack was flying solo these days?” Cade asked, hoping for another kernel of information.

“Tell me where I can find this Hildegarde,” Arvin said, voice flat, unyielding.

“Fuck. She’s working at Heller International, you know, that building,” Cade relented, he would warn her.

“I know the building, but it’s getting on in the day. You maybe got a home address?” he asked.

“No,” Cade lied.

“One phone call, you could find out for me,” Arvin suggested.

“Tell me why Dalton was working with Cyrus,” Case replied.

“Maybe you should come down here,” Arvin encouraged. “I still got me some of that great scotch and I sent a couple of boys over to Jack’s place. He wasn’t in, but they’ll stick around and see if he comes back. What do you say?”

Dammit, thought Cade. “Yeah, sure,” he said, disconnecting the call. Pulling into the other lane, he changed his destination from home to the club.

Newton’s Third Law

Hilde stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying the water from her exquisite body. Padding across the floor and into the bedroom, she selected lacy black panties and a matching bra. She pulled a short sleeved black t-shirt over her head and drew tight black leather pants over the flare of her hips.

Zipping up her riding boots, she grabbed her leather jacket and went to the garage and was soon on her way to Cade’s address. Weaving her Ducati motorcycle through traffic, it took her about three quarters of an hour to locate the policeman’s residence. He was staying in a three story apartment building, slightly seedy and the edge of the wrong side of town.

Parking in the fenced in lot, she climbed off the bike and removed her gloves, then her helmet. Pulling her hair tie out, she shook her head and her hair free, before pulling it tight and putting the band back in. She set the helmet and gloves on the seat of the motorcycle before turning and walking toward the glass security door, boots clicking of the asphalt. At a half dozen paces from the door, she flicked her right hand and the buzzer sounded, clicking the lock. Pulling open the door, she was assailed by the strong smell of marijuana permeating the air. She was a little surprised by the aroma given that Cade was a cop. She took the stairs to her left and ascended to the second floor. Following the arrows indicating apartment numbers, she passed through a door and started down the hall toward Cade’s apartment. A door opened up ahead on her right and a large man in a white muscle shirt and jeans stepped out.

When he turned and saw her, he let out a, “Whoa,” and leered at her snug leather outfit. Stepping further out into the hall to bar her path, he said, “Heaven must be weeping tonight, there’s an angel missing,” voice loud and boisterous, a big grin on his unshaven face.

She eyed the man a second and frowned. “Not tonight,” she said, sliding passed him. She could feel his eyes lingering on her as she walked on, but she didn’t care. Another time, maybe she would have taken him, but tonight her focus was on the policeman who had intrigued her. Arriving at Cade’s apartment, she tapped on the door lightly. She waited a moment and tried again, no response. Closing her eyes and drawing on her power, she peered into the apartment but he was not there. She had hoped he would be home, his profile indicated he was somewhat reclusive and spent many hours at home in relative seclusion.

A simple gesture from her right hand and the lock on the door clicked. Opening it, she entered his single bedroom apartment and into a short hallway. To the left, a bathroom, straight on the bedroom, to the right the kitchen area. The bathroom was in disarray. Stubble littered the sink and his toothbrush lay behind the faucets. She opened the medicine cabinet. Antacids and headache pills. Aftershave. Lifting the bottle out, she sniffed it and smiled. Replacing everything, she paused at the door and looked back, a mischievous smile creeping over her face. Stepping back in, she lowered the toilet seat.

The kitchen was pretty Spartan, a counter separated the kitchen from the dining area and the living space beyond. The cupboards were barren save for a handful of glasses and a couple of pots. It looked as if he only owned a handful of plates and they were all in a drying rack beside the sink. There was no shortage of empty liquor bottles.

The dining area table was stacked with papers and there were more papers and a handful of newspaper clippings tacked to the wall including an article his infamous shooting. The profile Sadie provided her contained a very thorough and detailed account of Cade’s transition from indestructible hero cop to broken cop and while she understood the origin of his torment, there was still something in him, some quality about how he managed his personal anguish that appealed to her on a subliminal level.

In the living area, there was a chesterfield and chair, mismatched and threadbare, looking as if he had acquired from discount store. A small flatscreen TV and handful of video discs were against the wall opposite the couch. She contemplated lingering in the environment, a burning need aching in her. The delightful sensation creeping through her flesh brought a smile to her face. Anticipation only served to heighten the experience.

Her moment of reflection was broken when her cell phone rang. Pulling it out of her pocket of her jacket, she looked at the call display. Selene. The conversation was fairly short. Selene was on the prowl and wanted to know where to find Jack Dalton so Hilde provided her the address of his apartment and disconnected the call.

Not knowing how long she might have to wait, she decided to leave. Stepping back into the hall, she made sure the door was locked. The oaf who had tried to bar her passage still lingered in the hall. She started to walk toward him. He turned, leaning against the wall, arms folded over his thick chest. The door to his apartment open.

“C’mon beautiful, one drink, just share one drink with me,” he said, looking into his apartment then back to her.

Ignoring him, she moved to navigate around him, but this time when she attempted to slip passed him, he moved to prevent her. She stopped, looking up at him, a quizzical look in her yellow eyes.

“One drink,” he said, the smile on his face almost a leer. At this range, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

She paused, considering. Placing her hand squarely in the middle of his chest, she pushed him back against the wall, a surprised look on his face that she could move him so easily. Locking her eyes onto his, she spoke, voice soft and low, “Fortunate for you the mood does not strike me now, else I would have you, bend you and break you and when there was nothing left, then I would devour you, body and soul. Now, step out of my path.”

The man blinked rapidly and gobbled for air as he moved out of her way and into the doorway of his apartment.

She smiled coldly and nodded her head. “Thank you.”

Jack and Clarice

Climbing up off of Jack, Clarice pulled herself standing on the mattress, placing a hand on the ceiling to steady herself. Bending at the waist, she shimmied out of her shorts and stepped forward, a foot to either side of his head.

“I think I know where this is going,” Jack said, a smile on his face as he lay back and appreciated the view.

Looking down on him, she lowered herself, knees to the side of his head, dropping her moistened vagina directly on his waiting mouth. Watching her descend, he marveled at how gorgeous she was and what a beautiful little pussy she had. He expertly lapped away at her sex, arousing her more fully and causing her pussy to respond by engorging with blood. No matter how hard he tried, or how he oriented his head, he just couldn’t get his tongue to those magical spots he knew were inside of her. Spots that would push her over the edge into a complete state of ecstasy. Taking his hair in her hands, she ground her pussy against his face, also trying to stimulate all of those same spots.

Sitting back, her ass on his chest, she placed a hand to either side of his face. Face flush with heated desire, she sucked her lowered lip into her mouth, “I want you inside me, all of you,” she said, hunger in her verdant eyes.

Leaning forward, he kissed her smooth vagina before nodding an affirmation. She smiled. At once, everything around him began to expand as he shrank away. She remained seated on her knees while he diminished. What had once been a small delicate flower loomed over him, the length of her pussy now almost the size of a doorway. Pleasure drooled out of her. She arched her hips forward slightly, parting her legs to facilitate access. She used her right hand to separate the petals of her feminine flower. Moving closer, he pushed his right arm into her to the shoulder. He could feel the powerful muscles flex around him the deeper he penetrated. Lowering his head, he dipped his left shoulder and pushed himself into her, around his head and shoulders to the waist. The smooth delicate flesh enfolding him. Reaching down, she took hold of his ankles in her left hand and pushed him as far as she could without letting him go, before slowly easing him back out until his head emerged, but his arms remained. The pace was very slow and deliberate, tender, but as heated desire soon replaced reason and urgency took hold, her pace quickened, she shifted her right hand and began to strum her expose clit. Bringing herself to the very edge of orgasm, she pushed him in again, this time, using her fingers on his feet, she drove him all the way inside. He could hear the sound of her heartbeat, her blood coursing through her. In the steamy darkness, amidst the slippery tissue, he found what he was looking for, her G-spot. Twisting around, he pulled himself toward, rubbing it, caressing it. Her juices flowed all around him. He could feel the muscular tension of an impending climax building in the flesh surrounding him, compressing him in anticipation of release. He continued to stimulate her, elevating her pleasure, kneading her sensitive spot until her walls of her vagina suddenly contracted around him so forcefully they crushed the air from his lungs. He tried to breathe, but he was drowning in her orgasm. He lost count of the contraction, trying to cling to consciousness.

Sliding her index finger into her sodden pussy, she felt him grab hold of the sides of her fingernail. Gently she pulled her finger back and him along with it. Slick as he was with her secretions, he eased out of her. Once free, he coughed and took in a breath of air, lying feet toward her feet, his face directly below her seeping sex. She touched herself lightly, slipping a finger back in and coaxing more of her milky cum to leak out. As it trickled out, it dripped down onto his face. He tilted his head back and drank deeply of her essence.

Carefully, she lifted herself off of the bed and smiled back on him, he still lay on his back. A quick flick of her hand and within moments he was returned to his normal size, body awash in her juice. She grinned and jumped back onto him, straddling his hips. She took ahold of his member and guided it to her lubricated pussy. She let out a breath and pushed herself onto the thick cock, feeling it part her and open her up. Moving slowly, she moved her hips forward, then back, taking a little more into her each time until he was fully embedded.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly, putting his hands on her hips to prevent her from moving but it was too late, the sensation too much as he erupted, ejaculating deep inside of her. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the sensation of his seed pouring into her.

Leaning forward, she put her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s go again,” she said, green eyes dangerous.

He chuckled softly, “Sustenance,” he said. “I need to eat to rebuild my strength, and besides I don’t think there’s an ounce of fluid left in my body.”

She rocked a couple of more times before reluctantly letting him slide free of her.

“We’ll go out for a bite, but I need to shower first,” he said, patting her on the thigh.

She grinned impishly, but let him up.

Clarice driving them, they took a late lunch at Cosmo’s, sitting out on the patio, an umbrella shading them from the afternoon sun. Jack made sure the meal was leisurely, he was still spent from the previous encounter.

She smiled at him from around her straw as she sipped her iced tea. Releasing the straw, smile intact, she said, “When we get back, we are going to pick up where we left off.”

He nodded and smiled before taking a sip of his beer. Never one to back down from a challenge, he did wonder at the depth of her sexual appetite. She was a dynamo, and he was already tired.

“I’m going to ravish you,” she added, not quietly enough. An older couple from the adjoining table turned, looking from her to him.  Setting an obvious age difference, the woman scowled.

“Quality or quantity,” he replied.

The woman at the neighboring table turned again, “Please,” she said under her breath.

Clarice turned to her, “Please? You want some? Maybe if there’s anything left when I’m done,” she said leaning back in her chair.

“Well, I never,” retorted the woman.

“And probably won’t ever,” added Clarice.

Jack shook his head as the woman got up and prompted her male companion to follow. Draining his glass, he set it on the table. “I suppose we should go,” he said.

“About time,” Clarice said.

Jack squared away the bill and together they walked out to her car. “Maybe you should let me drive?” he suggested, standing near the hood of the bright yellow car.

“Nope,” she answered, climbing in.

The drive back was an adventure all unto itself. Eager to get back to his apartment and resume their love play, she drove at breakneck speed, blowing through a red light and two stops signs. When they peeled around the corner onto his street, she slid to a stop in front of his apartment building.

“How the hell did you ever get your license, Jesus Christ!” he said, eyes wide as he hastily clambered out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Clarice made a dismissive noise with her mouth and waved a hand in his direction.

He rounded the nose of the corvette and stepped onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, she turned him to face her, putting her hands on his chest, “You know what? I should get a tattoo!” she exclaimed, eyes bright, an excited expression on her face.

“What do you need a tattoo for?” he asked, placing his hands on her hips.

“Because they’re cool. Hilde has one,” she said.

“I know, I saw it,” he remarked, put on hand on her side where Hilde’s tattoo was situated. “Can’t say the situation gave me much time to inspect the quality of work,” he added sardonically.

Leaning back from him, she put her hands and framed an area near her crotch. “A set of bright red lips, right here,” she said enthusiastically.

“You don’t want a tattoo,” he said, shaking his head.

Standing on the sidewalk as they were, neither Jack nor Clarice really noticed or gave particular attention to the two men approaching until the men stopped a dozen paces or so distant.

One man, appearing to be in his thirties was incredibly slender, bordering on emaciated, his suit hanging off him. His reed-like body made him appear taller than his actual height of six feet. The other man was much younger, very muscular, tight camouflage t-shirt, jeans, an inch or so taller than the slender man.

“Jack, maybe you got a minute?” said the slender man, turning his hand enough for Jack to see a pistol tucked into the waist of his trousers.

Jack recognized the speaker, Jimmy the Pin, the other fellow was unknown to him, but he was also packing a heater.

“Long time Jimmy,” Jack said, stepping toward the man while pushing Clarice behind him some.

The skinny man nodded. “You look good,” he said.

Given the ordeals of late, Jack knew he looked like shit. “You putting on some weight?” he asked, smiling. Jimmy chuckled.

Clarice frowned. “What’s going on here?” she asked, looking from the two men and back to Jack.

“Girlfriend?” Jimmy asked, nodding at Clarice.

“Something like that,” Jack replied.

“We need to go for ride,” Jimmy said, looking back at a silver four door sedan parked up the road a short distance.

“Where?” Jack asked.

“I said, what’s going on?” repeated Clarice, a demanding tone in her voice. Jack tried to shush her with his hand.

“We going for a drive, or we got a specific destination?” Jack asked, the difference being, going for a drive meant getting whacked.

Jimmy smiled, a hollow expression on his gaunt features. “Just get in the car Jack, you been around long enough, you know the drill.”

Clarice stepped around Jack, lips pursed and brow furled, menace danced in her vivid green eyes. Jack suddenly got a very bad feeling. Placing a hand on her arm, she looked at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly.

Jimmy turned, motioning toward the Chevy with the gun wielding hand. “Get in.”

“Tell me where we’re going Jimmy?” Jack repeated, hoping Clarice didn’t just decide to shrink these guys down right out on the street. Besides, he actually liked Jimmy, they had pulled off a couple of successful scores in the past.

Jimmy let out a breath. “Jesus, okay. Grind House. Arvin Traynor is calling the shots from there now, wants a face to face with you there,” he explained. “You going to get in the car now?”

“Little Train?” Jack asked. “Why?”

“Fuck Jack, why are you busting my balls? He wants to talk you on account you and Cyrus had some business, but now Cyrus is gone,” he added.

“Jack,” Clarice said.

“I got no bones with Little Train. He feel the same?” Jack asked.

Jimmy shrugged. “Don’t know, I’m just told to bring you in,” he said.

“Enough of the fucking chit-chat, just get in the fucking car,” said the other man, a snarl in his tone.

Jack frowned. Jimmy raised his free hand. “Pretend you’ve done this before and show a little fucking class Trevor,” Jimmy admonished.

Jack leaned in close to Clarice. “You should leave,” he whispered.

“Fuck that,” she snapped back.

“I don’t give a shit who this old man used to be, Mr. Traynor says we get him, we get him. End of fucking story,” replied Trevor.

Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “Sorry Jack, talent pool has been pretty shallow,” he apologized.

Jack smiled. “Okay, I’ll come, but she gets a pass,” he said, glancing to Clarice then to the Pin.

“Like fuck,” she retorted, turning to meet his gaze. “I go where you go, somebody needs to protect you,” she added.

“It doesn’t matter, bring the bitch, leave her, but we go now,” Trevor growled, pulling the .45 from his pants.

“Did he just call me a bitch?” she asked Jack, before looking at Trevor. “Bitch? Really?” she said.

“C’mon Jack,” Jimmy encouraged, shaking his head. “As far as I know, it’s just supposed to be a sit down.”

Jack nodded. “Ok,” he said. Wrapping an arm around Clarice’s shoulder and began moving toward the car. Clarice sat in the front with Jimmy, while Jack sat with Trevor in the back.

The sage green Aston Martin Vanquish rolled to a stop as Selene watched Jack and Clarice get into the silver car. Strumming her fingers on the steering wheel, she waited for the car to pull out and get some distance ahead before she shifted and pulled out to follow.

Asked and answered

Arvin was older than Jack, but Jack knew who he was, a goon who had climbed up from the ranks to carve out a pretty big piece of territory. Their paths had crossed on a handfuls of occasions, but they had never really had any formal business dealings directly. A lot of people thought they knew the man called Little Train, but Jack understood him better than most. They thought because Arvin was an enforcer, built like a bulldog, he was stupid, but Arvin was anything but. A keen, analytical, razor sharp mind resided behind those narrow pale gray eyes. And as smart as Arvin was, he was twice as ruthless.

Entering the rear of the club, Jimmy led Jack and Clarice to Arvin’s office. Dressed in a shirt and suit pants, Arvin recognized Jack and stood up. Extending his hand, “Good to see you again,” he said.

Aside from Little Train in the office, Jack saw Vince slumped forward in a chair in the corner, hands handcuffed behind his back. The goon had been worked over pretty good, one eye swollen shut and blood all done the front of his white undershirt.

Jack took the offered hand, but looked at Vince, Clarice followed his gaze, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the beaten man

“Just a little housekeeping,” Arvin said dismissively. “Hope these boys behaved themselves,” he added with a smile, looking to Trevor and Jimmy.

Jack shook the hand. “Jimmy and I go back, new kid is an asshole.”

Arvin laughed. “We been recruiting off the streets these days. Bangers think they invented this shit, all little badass wannabes,” he said.

Turning to look at Clarice, he welcomed her with a smile. “You are an absolutely stunning young lady, I love the red streaks in your hair,” he said extending his hand to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand. He kissed it, she rewarded him with a smile. “Now if only your subordinates possessed your level of manners,” she added, looking directly at Trevor. Trevor sneered back in return.

“A little young isn’t she Jack?” Arvin asked, breaking his gaze from Clarice to look at Jack.

Jack shrugged, “It’s complicated.”

“Where are my manners? Here sit,” Arvin said, pointing at the two chairs in front of the desk. Jack took one, Clarice the other. “I am desperately trying to wrap my head around the goings on here in the last couple weeks and I was hoping maybe you could help enlighten me Jack. First, why don’t you tell me what you and Cyrus had going on?

Jack nodded. “Simple contract. B & E, get in, snatch some goods then get out. But the plan was fucked from the get go, job went way off the rails. Shit went down,” he explained.

“Shit went down? Vince,” Arvin started, looking over at the incapacitated thug, “Tells me Tony was sent along as your lookout, except Tony got iced, and now you’re standing here with this lovely creature,” Arvin finished. “What happened?”

Jack chuckled. “Like I said, shit went down.”

“And it’s complicated,” Arvin commented. “Yeah, I got that. Vince says Cyrus planned on putting you in the ground. You got any idea why would Cyrus want to do that?” he asked.

“Because Cyrus was an asshole. I don’t know who the contract was for, but when it went wrong, he was trying to cut all ties,” Jack answered. “That’s what I think.”

Arvin nodded. “That seems plausible. How come you never showed up for the meeting?”

“I couldn’t, I was otherwise,” he paused, “Indisposed,” Jack answered.

Arvin looked from Jack to Clarice then back, raising his eyebrows. “In flagrante?” he inquired.

Jack shook his head.

“My sister and my cousin,” provided Clarice with a knowing smile. Jack fixed her with a sharp gaze.

Arvin leaned back in the chair. “Do tell young lady,” he encouraged.

“They got the drop on him,” she answered, pleased with herself for using the lingo.

“Your cousin male or female?” he asked.

“She’s female,” she replied.

“That is fucking hilarious. The Hammer gets waylaid by two skirts. That’s one for the ages, almost as funny as Tommy T.,” he said with a chuckle.“So maybe you could tell me how Tony died?”

“I think he was trying to rescue Jack and he tried to attack my sister with a knife, my cousin stopped him,” Clarice answered.

Arvin was well aware of Tony’s penchant for hurting girls, not that it mattered. “Older sister, or younger?”

“A few years older, same as my cousin,” answered Clarice.

“So, first two girls take down the infamous Jack Dalton, the guy who single handedly put the hurt on three of my boys, and then they bump Tony,” he clarified.

Clarice nodded. “That’s about right.”

“And now, he’s here with you on his arm, I don’t understand it,” he said smiling, eyes dangerous.

“I’m not finished with him yet,” she replied, winking at Little Train.

“Sassy little thing. This one may be a keeper,” Arvin said to Jack.

“Back to the subject. So you couldn’t come to the meeting, but three broads show up in your stead, one calling herself Hildegarde. Know anything about?” he asked.

Jack shrugged. Arvin nodded. “You got a reputation for keeping your mouth shut. I respect that, I do. You’re a standup guy. Too many pieces of shit these days start talking the moment they see a badge or their own blood, but not you. So here’s my problem. How did these women not only know about but actually show up for your meeting?” he asked, leaning forward.

How could he possibly explain that Hilde had imitated him and set up the meet? No way that story would ever fly, Jack thought. “I couldn’t tell you what Tony might have said,” he replied, thinking that might sound more feasible.

“There it is! A logical explanation. Sadistic fuck that Tony was, I could see him cracking under the pressure. But I have to make sure. I know I could have you beaten to within an inch of your life and you wouldn’t tell me shit. But if I put a bullet in her tight little tummy or her pretty little head, your story still going to be the same?” he asked, opening the desk drawer and taking out a pistol with a silencer threaded onto it. And setting it on the blotter.

“I wouldn’t do that,” cautioned Jack, eyeing the gun, then Arvin.

There was a knock on the door. “Come,” said Arvin, eyes locked onto Jack’s.

The door opened and the burly bouncer popped his head in. “That cop is out front,” he said.

Arvin smiled. “Go get him,” he said. “An old acquaintance of yours Jack,” he said.

Jack frowned.

Cops and Robbers

Cade arrived at the club, pulling his ghost car into the lot beside an expensive looking sports car. He checked his gun, and entered the club.

He waved off the bartender and nodded to the bouncer who had taken him into the back before. Turning his back to the bar, he turned to look at a pretty little strawberry blonde hanging by her legs from a brass pole, one of five platforms where girls in various states on undress were dancing, but his eyes stopped on a woman seated alone against the wall near the stage. A dark haired woman, dressed in a snug dress, maybe dark purple in color sat at a table, hard to tell in the light, traced her left index finger around the lip of her glass as she too watched the inverted stripper. He wondered if she were a performer, but even in the low light, it was clear to him she clearly outstripped all the talent working on the stages. He didn’t realize he was staring, until she made eye contact and gave him a hint of a smile at the corner of her full mouth. Busted, he looked away. The arrival of the bouncer helped assuage any feelings of awkwardness.

“He says you can go back,” said the big man. “Follow me.”

Cade nodded, a quick glance back at the dark haired woman before following the bigger man into the back and down the hall.

The bouncer knocked lightly on the door, before holding it open for Cade to enter. The ugly feeling he sometimes got into his gut when things might go bad came on full force.

In the room, Arvin, some gorgeous girl who looked too young to be in such a club, a stick, a juice monkey, and of course Jack Dalton.

“Not everybody knows everybody,” Arvin said. “Jack this is Cade, Cade this is Jack, but I know you two go way back. Jimmy, Trevor,” he said, nodding at each respectively. “The mass in the corner is Vince.” He paused at Clarice, “Sorry beautiful, I didn’t get your name,” he said.

“Clarice,” she provided.

“Clarice,” Arvin repeated. “Jack’s girlfriend.”

Cade nodded, “Jack,” he said, eyes catching sight of the silenced gun on the desk. The bad feeling in his gut just got worse.

“Detective McKissik. Cade,” Jack said, “You’re a piece of shit, you cost me two years of my goddamn life,” tone even and calm.

“Tell me you weren’t involved in the Wells Fargo robbery and I’ll apologize,” replied the cop.

“That’s beside the point,” countered Jack.

“It’s not beside the point, you were fucking nuts deep in that job,” growled Cade.

“But you couldn’t prove it!” Jack retorted.

“This is all very entertaining,” Arvin said, bringing his hands together in front of his face. “Watching this reunion unfold and I’m sure the two of you have a lot to work out, but there are other matters at hand. For the sake of brevity, let me bring you up to speed Cade,” Arvin said. “Jack here was just telling me he knows nothing about this woman Hildegarde showing up for his meeting at the club, and I was just threatening to shoot this incredibly pretty little girl in her belly to make sure he wasn’t holding anything back.” He looked around the room, “That about sum it up?” he asked.

Trevor nodded. Jimmy just shook his head.

“Jack?” Arvin asked.

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” he answered.

“Ok then,” he said, closing his hand around the pistol. The bullet hit Clarice in the lower left quadrant of her abdomen tearing into her flesh, a gout of red blood spewing from the hole left by its passing.

“Jack,” she said, eyes wide in surprise.

“Jesus!” yelled Jack, jumping out of his chair to clamp his hand over Clarice’s gunshot wound.

Arvin stood up, gun leveled at Cade. The cop, hand inside his jacket froze, hand so close to his own gun. Arvin smiled and used the gun to get Cade to take his hand out from within the suit jacket. “Trevor, get the cop’s gun,” he instructed. “Wouldn’t him doing anything foolish with it.”

The young hood nodded. Walking over, he took the Smith & Wesson from Cade. Once he had it out, he turned it from side to side before cracking the policeman across the mouth with it, drawing blood.

Arvin chuckled, “Who saw that coming? He may be an asshole, but he’s got some go-getter in him.”

“Are you fucking insane!” Jacked yelled looking back at Arvin, desperately trying to stem the flow of crimson through his fingers.

“I wouldn’t? Is that what you said to me Jack?” Arvin asked, he looked around. “I did. Now what?”

Turning back to Clarice, “Hang in there sweetheart,” Jack encouraged.

“It burns,” Clarice said, looking down at Jack’s bloody hands, then to his face, her eyes were welling up.

“Now you’re going to fucking tell me the whole fucking story, or I swear to Christ the next one goes into her head,” Arvin snapped. He turned his head to Cade, “And I’ll be needing that address we spoke about earlier,” he said.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jack said voice quavering, sliding his hand around Clarice’s side to see if the bullet came out her back. It did, her blood draining out the exit wound into the chair.

Clarice smiled weakly then closed her eyes.

Clarissa and her captive

The layout of the dining room appeared very formal and elegant. A long ornate dining table, a fancy carved chair at either end of the table and one to either side. The four chairs were occupied, Clarissa at one end, Angel the other, Destiny and Tera sat at the sides, each nicely dressed. There was patterned china dinner service situated in front of the women, intricate silverware lined out to either side of the plates. Each woman possessed a stemmed wine glass, a splash of red a third of the way up the glass.

At the center of the table, sitting inside an empty wine glass matching the ones the women had at their place settings, Garth let out a long exaggerated breath. He was diminished, not much more than a few inches in height, and he was naked.

“A toast!” Clarissa said, taking her wine glass by the stem, and raising it before her, looking at him in his crystal confinement. “To Garth, you’ve led us this merry chase and not, at long last your days of tormenting us have come to an end.”

Each of the women raised their glasses. I unison, they said, “To Garth!” Each taking a sip from their glasses.

He made a dismissive noise with his mouth, echoed by the shape of the glass.

Clarissa laughed, “Not quite your vociferous self. Your new surroundings mellowed your bravado?” she asked, setting her glass down and savoring the full bodied taste of the wine. Looking at him, she was not deceived by his appearance, small though he may be, he was still Garth. With the help of the others, she had taken every conceivable precaution to keep him confined on her home plane of existence, here she could control the variables. She and the other three women, unbound by the strictures of the Covenant in her place, assumed their full heights, all over one hundred forty feet, Destiny, the shortest, just. With everything geared to her normal size, Garth at 6’3” fit neatly into the glass. The fancy meal was a celebration, jubilation for finally capturing perhaps the most elusive being in creation.

He nodded, then chuckled. “Enjoy it, you got me,” he said, rising to standing inside the glass.

“I think I should eat him,” Destiny said leaning in close, locking her soulless black eyes on him, a feral expression looking menacing on her gaunt features.

“And that is why no one likes to play with you,” he replied acerbically, shaking his head, a wry smile on his youthful face.

“Fret not Destiny, we shall all have opportunity to play with him, each in our own way,” Tera said, a broad smile on her comely face.

“Since I know I’m not shrunk and you’re all gigantic, I must presume we are no longer in the realm of mortals,” he said, looking about the cavernous room, rich tapestries decorating polished wooden panel walls. A crystal chandelier, alight with candles hanging overhead.

“And it’s locked up tighter than a drum, there is no miraculous escape from here this time,” Clarissa replied confidently, perhaps a bit smug.

Looking at Clarissa, he smirked. “Challenge accepted, but I think it only fair to let you know, I’ve already found my way out.” He turned to look at each woman. “It’s just a matter of which one of you is going to enable me to enact my brilliant stratagem,” he replied, turning slowly in his glass to look at each of them in turn.

Leaning back, extending a hand in his direction, “Go on, enlighten us, what artifice have you devised to extricate yourself from your current predicament?” Clarissa encouraged, an amused smile playing at the corners of her full lips.

He grinned. “That would spoil the surprise,” he said.

“It is your hubris in the first place that has brought you low. This preening pride has led you to this situation,” Angel interjected, leaning forward.

Four females appeared bearing plates, each appearing in domestic attire. They all appeared varied in age, but all equal in height to Destiny. None of the serving women made eye contact with him as they deposited small plates of hors d’oeuvres in front of each of the women seated at the table before leaving the room.

“What are we having?” he asked, pushing his hands against the glass to try and get a better view of the food on Tera’s plate.

“An amuse-bouche, to prepare the palate,” Tera replied, drawing one of the two bite sized morsels off her plate and putting it in her mouth. “Mmm,” she noised, nodding her head in appreciation of the flavors.

“Very good,” complimented Angel, enjoying the small portion.

“I shall pass along the compliments to the chef, I allowed her to choose the menu,” Clarissa replied, eating the second of her two servings.

The serving women reappeared, each collecting a plate, leaving and returning immediately with a bowl of some type of broth.

Garth slumped back down into the wine glass. “This is going to take forever,” he protested.

Angel inclined her head slightly to the side. “Are you so eager to begin your penance?” she asked, pausing in eating her consommé.

“Penance? Is that what we’re calling it?” he chuckled.

“This is a victory meal,” Clarissa said. “In honor of you.”

Standing, he spread his hands, “How about something to nibble on then?”

Clarissa nodded. “Where are my manners?” she asked rhetorically. One of the serving women appeared, a small plate with some type of roll on it in her hand. She walked over to Clarissa and stopped beside her. Clarissa took the bread, and tore a piece off, releasing a small tendril of steam, before setting the remainder back on the plate. Using the butter knife, she applied a small measure of butter to the piece in her hand. “You don’t mind my fingers?” she asked.

He shook his head. She handed the piece of roll to the serving woman who moved around the side of the table and dropped the bread into his glass.

“I trust this is not part of master plan?” Tera asked.

He grabbed the piece, large than a loaf in his tiny hands, butter melting into it. He shook his head and took a bite. Nodding appreciatively as he chewed.

Clarissa chuckled. “You don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, yet you wanted this,” she said, opening her hand in his direction.

“Just because I don’t have to, doesn’t mean I don’t like to,” he replied between mouthfuls.

The serving women returned, cleared the bowls and returned with green salads, followed by main entrées, then a flaky dessert. The dialogue around the table remained convivial and light.

Feeling they were done, he climbed back to his feet. Then the serving women brought each woman a demitasse of flavored coffee. “Really?” he grumbled, making a show of sliding down the glass.

Finally, the table was cleared, and the women sat there, looking at him. Clarissa nodded to Tera, who reached out and slowly tipped the glass forward, allowing him to step out onto the table.

He brushed particles of bread off his chest before walking down the table toward Clarissa. Winking at her, “Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s get this show on the road. Who’s first?” he asked, looking from woman to woman.

“We have already decided, this was Clarissa plan, she will have you first,” Angel said from her seat, hands neatly folded on her lap.

Tera smiled. Destiny remained silent.

He turned to Clarissa. “What’s the game plan?” he asked.

“We are going to say goodnight to these other ladies and you and I shall retire to engage in other pursuits,” she answered.

He grinned, “Other pursuits?”

“I am going subjugate your flesh to my pleasure,” she said. “I expect the process shall be quite lengthy, and thoroughly involved.”

“Ah,” he replied, nodding. A slow smile crept over his face.

She rose from the table, inclined her head, “Ladies,” she said. Each of the women rose and nodded in turn. Clarissa curled her left hand around him, picking up the wine glass in her right. As she exited the dining room, her mind contemplating how much could he endure? If he didn’t need to eat or sleep or breathe, she could keep him for months buried inside of her erogenous zones. Walking up a sweeping set of stairs into a hallway, she entered a large bedroom. There was a woman waiting in the bedroom, hand folded before her, eyes downcast. Clarissa slid Garth back into the wine glass and handed it to the woman.

She nodded, carrying him through a wide doorway into a bathing area. In the immense bathing area was a large marble tub filled with water, wisps of steam dancing along its surface. The woman set the glass down on the edge of the tub, turned and left the room.

Clarissa entered the bathing area after the other woman had vanished. Garth watched in awe as she walked to ward the tub, a vision of perfection, large breasts prominent over her narrow waist and full hips.

“I am at a loss, you are magnificent,” he complimented.

She paused before entering the tub. “Flattery won’t save you from my appetite,” she said, lowering herself into the hot water.

“It’s only flattery if it’s not true,” he clarified.

She allowed herself the luxury of bathing. Massaging her breasts, touching herself, fueling her desire and driving her passion, she let out a sigh.

 Snapping her fingers, the woman who had put Garth on the tub, returned behind Clarissa, kneading shoulders and back. Rising from the tub, Clarissa spread her arms out and the woman wrapped a towel around. Stepping out, Clarissa stepped from the tub, using the towel to dry herself. Turning to the woman, she said, “Bring my plaything, it’s time.”

The woman nodded, gathered the wine glass and brought him into the bedroom. Clarissa handed her the towel, she in turn hand her the wine glass.

Walking to the bed, Clarissa upended the glass spilling him onto the soft blanket below. Climbing onto the bed, she reclined against the pillows and parted her legs.

“No cuddling, kissing, small talk? Just straight to it?” he queried. She smiled down, hunger kindling in her luminescent green eyes.

Seizing him in her left hand, she started lowering him over her breast, passed her stomach and toward her pink opening.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he said, angling his body to facilitate insertion. Putting fingers to his feet, she pushed him up inside of her sleek pussy. Instantly, she began to feel him touching her in all the right places, stoking her furnace and setting her positively aflame. Bringing her hands to her chest, she began to caress and play with her breasts, teasing her hard nipples. She couldn’t believe how amazingly fast he was able to bring her to such heights and in all her long life never before had she felt such exquisite delight as wave after wave coursed through her entire body. Her breath came in ragged gasps, as she bucked and thrashed atop the blanket while he continued to manipulate every single nerve fiber and ending her could find, she screamed in ecstasy as pleasure gushed out of her. Everything exploded inside of her as she was overcome by orgasm, reason and thought abandoned her, replaced with bliss. Slowly, the powerful sensations began to subside. As sanity slowly returned to her, tingles of pleasure lingering in her entire body, she realized something was amiss. Sitting bolt upright, she looked down passed her breasts to her stomach and frowned. Garth was gone and she was pregnant.

Crossing the room to her closet, she pulled out a silk robe and wrapped it about herself before venturing back down the hall and to her private offices.

Sitting herself down in the chair, she communed with the three other women. One by one, they materialized in the office.

Once all three women were present, “He’s gone,” Clarissa said flatly.

Angel frowned.

Destiny scowled, “Impossible, the weave is far too intricate for him to have unraveled the spell, especially in such a short amount of time.”

Tera laughed softly, “Impossible to us is made routine by him,” she said.

Noting the perturbed look on Clarissa’s lovely face, “There’s more to this, isn’t there?” Angel asked.

Clarissa shook her head, a look of incredulity marring her perfect features. “I don’t know for sure how yet, but during play he tricked my body into ovulating,” she said.

Angel tilted her head in askance.

“I’m pregnant,” she supplied.

Angel and Tera exchanged glances before Tera burst into laughter. “Pregnant?”

Clarissa nodded slowly, brow furled. “Yes, I can feel it.”

Angel laughed, a pleasant sound, walking over to pat Clarissa’s tummy.

“It’s not funny, he wreaking havoc on my system already,” she complained.

“Perhaps you are just hormonal,” Angel offered, a mischievous grin on her face.

Clarissa rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It feels different than it did with Clare or Clarice,” she said.

“Oh?” asked Tera.

“I don’t know, I just feel out of sync and it hasn’t been more than an hour,” she said. She was shaking her head, a concerned looked suddenly came over her face.

“Clarissa?” Angel said, stepping in and putting her arm under Clarissa. “It can’t be the baby,” she commented.

“It’s Clarice, she’s been hurt,” Clarissa said.

Selene

She watched the strawberry blonde, completely naked, bending and twisting lasciviously for the amusement of the men gathered around her platform. Selene sensed indifference in the woman, going through the paces of displaying herself, exciting the men, instilling desire and fantasy. Selene smiled, she loved the art of seduction, the game between the sexes, it thrilled her, excited her. Opening her purse, she withdrew a hundred dollar bill and set it on the stage in front of the young woman. Looking down, the woman smiled and gave Selene a nod of appreciation. Selene smiled back, as she was returning to sit down, she sensed the disruption of power ripple through the environment, akin to a stone tossed into a pond spreading ripples out from a source of impact. The closer the impact, the greater the distortion and it was so strong it made Selene gasp although it was unfelt by anyone else in the Grind House, she knew immediately something dramatic had happened to Clarice. She moved hastily across the floor between the table and to the hall leading into the back of the club. The burly bouncer frowned and raised his hand to bar her way. She placed her hand on his chest, moving him backward through the portal before giving him a shove. Although almost two and half times her body weight, he was flung backward down the hall with tremendous force, colliding with the drywall at the end wall and with enough momentum to damage it and bend the metal studs behind.

Striding purposefully down the hall, she lifted her hand palm out and the door pushed inward striking the wall behind with a loud bang, her amethyst eyes glowing balefully.

Arvin looked at her. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, bringing the gun around to point at her.

She made a motion with her hand and everyone in the room was rendered unconscious. Moving quickly into the room, she pushed Jack out of the way and knelt down in front of Clarice, placing one hand over the entry wound, the other over the exit. Channeling an energy conduit between her hands, the wound began to glow, a white light emanating from within the wound track itself. She watched as muscle and tissue knit and skin pulled itself together. She smiled, proud of her handiwork, there wouldn’t even be a scar to mar Clarice’s perfect flesh.

Standing upright, she surveyed the unconscious people in the room. Stepping out into the hall, she grabbed the unconscious bouncer by the scruff and dragged him into the room. Spreading her hands, she drew in power, then released it. Everyone in the room, except Clarice began to shrink down, vanishing into their clothes. It took only a moment, and all seven men were reduced to between two and three inches in height. Crouching down, she picked Jack up first, gently rolling him over in the palm of her hand. A smile touched her full lips as she remembered how he had eluded her in the hunt. Kissing him on his face, she brought him up to her chest and carefully slid him into her bra, allowing the cup to cradle him against her smooth firm flesh.

One by one, she collected the others, dropping them into a compartment in her purse. She paused picking Vince up, looking at his battered tiny frame and wondering why he had been handcuffed and beaten. Once everyone was gathered, she closed the zipper on the compartment and shut the purse. Slipping out the back of the club, she crossed the lot, Clarice’s arm draped over her shoulder. Setting the unconscious girl in the passenger seat, she fastened the safety belt and climbed into the driver’s seat. Taking out her phone, she called Hilde.

Having felt the disruption in the power, though to a much lesser extent given her distance from Clarice, Hilde knew something was awry so pulled her motorcycle to the side of the road. She tried to refine the sensation, attempting to identify a location and discern the nature of the disturbance when her phone rang.

“Clarice has been shot in the stomach, I have tended to the wound, but she has lost a lot of blood. Where should I take her?” Selene asked.

Hilde let out a breath. “Where are you?”

“I am at a gentlemen’s club called The Grind House. I have collected all involved parties,” she relayed.

“I know the place. Gather at my residence, those in the immediate proximity will assemble there,” Hilde directed.

Disconnecting the call, Selene fastened her own seatbelt and started the car.

When Selene arrived at Hilde’s residence, there were several familiar vehicles already there. Clare was waiting outside and was the first to greet her, before hastily checking on her sister. The twins were present, Angelica with Abbie Halston in tow. The snowy haired Serah was there, remarkable face a mask of remote iciness. Clare and Angela helped get Clarice into the house and into the spare room.

The mood inside the house was very somber.

There was an open shoe box on the glass table in Hilde’s dining room. Selene set her purse on the table. Opening it, she unzipped the compartment where the tiny men were stored. Reaching in, she brought out Jimmy the Pin and set him in the cardboard box.

“Ugh, he is so skinny,” commented Angelica, all of his ribs easily visible, like skin stretched over a tiny skeleton.

Next out was the bouncer then Arvin. “He’s the shooter,” Selene said to the assembled group, setting him off to one side of the box.

Vince was next. “What happened to him?” Angela asked, using the end of her index finger to roll his head from side to side and examine the damage.

“Not sure,” Selene answered.

“His name is Vince, he was there the night Vanessa, Emilie, and I took down Cyrus and his crew. My guess is he was beaten for information,” Hilde offered. Looking to Selene, “Go on,” she said.

Reaching back into her purse she brought out Cade, he was hanging upside down by a leg. Rolling him onto his back, she laid his naked body in the box. “The shooter was pointing the gun at this one when I went into the office,” she explained.

“This one I also know,” Hilde said, eyebrow raised. “Detective Cade McKissik,” she identified. “He came to question me today about the lawyer Thomas Edwards.”

The last one Selene took out was Trevor. “This one also had a gun,” she shared. “Oh wait, I almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her bra to extract Jack from against her breast. Although small, traces of Clarice’s blood remained dried on his hands and arms.

“Jack,” Angelica said, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down. “Was Clarice with Jack? How did she know where to find him with the protection sigil concealing him from our sight?” she asked, looking to Hildegarde.

“You forget, she helped him escape once and learned where he lived,” Hilde explained. Snapping her fingers, Jack began to stir from his induced slumber.

He came awake with a start, “Clarice!” he yelled before being fully aware.

“She’s okay Jack, Selene saved her. Clare and Angela are with her now,” Abbie said, smiling down at him.

That said, Clare and Angela appeared. “Mother is here,” Clare announced, “She’s not happy.” Angela nodded.

Jack paused a moment to gather his wits before taking stock of the assemblage around the glass table. “How come I’m little?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“It was just easier to transport you that way,” Selene said with a grin, cupping a hand to the boob where he had been carried.

“Transport me where?” he asked, glancing around.

“We are at Hilde’s,” Selene answered.

“Um, how about you transport me back to my right size?” he asked.

Selene removed him from the table and set him on the ground near her feet.

“No,” said Clarissa walking into the room near to where Jack stood. She took stock of all the women in attendance, each women nodding in deference.

“What? That’s bullshit!” Jack groused.

“My daughter was in your accompany when this thing happened. This affair has yet to be settled and until such time as it is, you will remain thus,” she declared, face dark, voice brooking no argument. Turning to Angelica and Abbie, she added, “There are still residual elements of your father’s organization attempting to investigate us, I want you Abbie to establish control over the remnants of the Disciples of the Hidden Path. You are to assert your right to govern that organization based on the fact you are your father’s only heir. Currently there is a man named Vickers coordinating efforts there. Contact Marissa, she will meet you at the airport when you land. I want a triune there and an end to this,” she stated firmly.

“I’ve met Sebastian before,” Abbie said. Angelica nodded.

Selene knelt down and picked Jack up, setting him back on the table. “Sorry little one.” A devious smile crossed her face.

“This is crap,” he mumbled.

“I’m in no frame of mind to listen to you bleat complaints,” Clarissa said sternly. “Judging from my daughter’s blood still on your body, you were witness to what transpired. Tell me,” she commanded.

Jack spoke of being greeted by Jimmy and Trevor, driving to the club and the nature of the questioning by Arvin. He neither embellished nor exaggerated, telling it straight.

Clarissa wobbled on her feet a bit, as if dizzy, she stabilized herself with the table

“Are you alright?” Clare asked, moving a step closer

Clarissa shook her head. “Just a little off,” she replied. Looking to Jack and fixing him with a stare before picking him up and setting him in the box. “Identify these men,” she directed.

Jack named each man except for the bouncer, Jack didn’t know him

Clarissa turned to Selene, “You take Jack for the time being,” she said.

Selene clapped her hands together but kept quiet other than to voice gratitude.

“Hilde, I want to know everything this Arvin knows, but I want him alive, Clarice can decide his fate.” Looking at the other women in the room, she said, “Dispose of the rest as you see fit.” Then she vanished.

The women in the room exchanged glances, Clare said “What should we do with them?”

Hilde said, “I will take Arvin as your mother directed, but I would also like custody of the policeman.”

No one spoke against the selection. Hilde nodded, she reached down and picked Cade up first then Arvin.

“Don’t hurt Jimmy or Vince, they’re both solid guys,” Jack said, concerned.

Serah stepped forward, looking down at Jack with her fierce blue eyes, staring into him. Reaching down she took Jimmy in her hand, rolling him onto his back and closed her fingers around him. She looked at Jack once more, then without another word, she turned and left, the tiny gangster clutched in her fist.

“I want to play with this one,” Angela said, pointing at Trevor, “He sounds like a real peach.”

“We’ll take Vince,” Angelica said, looking at Abbie, who just nodded, still unsure of her standing within the hierarchy of the group.

Clare picked up the bouncer. Looking at Angela, she said, “I have an idea, I think I have a perfect game for both of our little ones. We need to return to mother’s house.” A smile crept over her face. Jack shuddered.

Arvin

Arvin opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus. He was lying on his back in a featureless square room, maybe ten feet by ten feet, it was dim inside, faint light seeping in all around where the polished wooden floor and wall met. In the gloom, he could see neither door nor window. Odd, he thought as he lifted himself to standing.

Somewhere outside the room, he could hear something, movement maybe, he couldn’t be sure as he pressed his ear to the wall. It smelled like cardboard. He was startled when the wall started moving upward. He stepped back and covered his eyes as light spilled in.

Blinking a few times, he froze, trying to fathom the messages his brain was receiving from his eyes. From his vantage point, he was looking up at a gigantic seated woman, sitting on a chair, all ladylike in a blouse and a skirt, legs to the side, knees together, except she was positively huge. She leaned forward. She was a gorgeous broad, librarian type, blonde hair pulled back, glasses. It had been his experience this type of chick once she let her hair down was a freak in the sack. He just couldn’t understand how she was so impossibly massive.

Keeping eye contact for a moment, he looked around. Realization dawned on him as he took stock of the surroundings, she wasn’t super tall. Instead, he was incredibly tiny. He felt like a child’s toy standing atop a coffee table in a massive living room.

“Well fuck me,” he said aloud, bringing his eyes back to hers and shaking his head.

“Mr. Traynor, my name is Hildegarde,” she introduced, no mercy in her oddly golden colored eyes.

Arvin smiled broadly. “Coincidentally enough, I was hoping you and I would meet, though I can’t say I anticipated these particular circumstances,” he said warmly.

“Clarice will be fine, in case you were concerned for her wellbeing,” Hilde advised.

He nodded. “Pretty little girl that one,” he said.

“Why did you shoot her?” Hilde asked.

“I thought it might convey the seriousness of my desire to get information out of Jack. I could’ve shot him, but that stubborn sonofabitch would never have talked,” he explained, looking down and taking stock of his nakedness.

She nodded. “For your sake, let me explain the particulars of your situation. You have been reduced to your current diminutive size by means beyond your need to understand. There is no hope of escape, or restoration to your former size at present. Cooperate with me and our time will be brief. False bravado, given your insignificance will not be tolerated,” she said, extending her right arm forward and knocking him to the ground flat on his back. Using her index and middle fingers, she used them to straddle his chest, pressing down firmly on both of his upper arm muscles and pinning him painfully to the table. He grimaced, teeth clenched, the pressure of her fingers bringing bruises to his biceps immediately. “Do you understand?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said through his teeth. “No bullshit, got it.”

Removing her fingers, she placed her hands back on her lap. “Good,” she said.

“What happened to Cyrus?” he asked, examining his upper arms, dark purple and extremely sore.

“Mr. Traynor, I am the one asking questions, you are simply to answer them,” she advised.

“This whole thing is just because I wanted to know where he was,” he explained. “That’s all.”

An amused smile touched her lips. “For what good it will do you, or peace of mind you might receive, Cyrus and his crew are all by this time dead and gone. They were shrunken down like you are now, hunted, captured and consumed,” she replied directly, “Then expelled.”

“Consumed? Like eaten?” he asked, face a stoic mask

“Swallowed,” she corrected.

He shook his head. “I’m a self-acknowledged bastard, but even to me that seems pretty cold,” he commented. “Funny kind of, but cold.”

She smiled. “I am pleased you are amused. Let us proceed. Other than yourself, who else in your little syndicate might come sniffing about as a result of Cyrus’s fate?” she inquired.

“I’m assuming you got everybody in the room, so probably no one else,” he confessed, nodding to himself. “The outfit might send in a couple of others when I don’t turn up or make a drop, but I’m not sure if they’ll be able to track it back to you.”

“So let’s talk about your organization shall we,” she said. “I want to know everything you know.”

He chuckled. “You go through this spiel with Jack?”

“Mr. Dalton was questioned yes,” she answered. Bending to her side, she set her purse on the table and withdrew her leather manicure case. Setting the purse on the ground, she opened the case. “He thought he might take his life rather than talk, but he failed to realize just how impotent and powerless he was. You’re welcome to try, but I can promise the result will be the same.”

Arvin nodded, eyeballing the now oversized nail clippers tucked into a leather loop inside the case. He looked back up at her and laughed. “Fucking Jack has got a set on him, I’ll give him that. I always admired that. So what is it you want to know?”

“Everything,” she said.

He smiled. “So if I cooperate, what happens when we’re done? Eaten? Swallowed, sorry.”

“Your ultimate fate lies in the hands of the young lady you shot. She is young and unpredictable, so I can’t say for sure what she may decide,” she answered honestly. “It will depend on her disposition.”

He nodded. Pointing to the tools, “Those for me if I don’t talk?”

“More for intimidation,” she said. “If you are going to be particularly resistant to my questions, I will probably just bite off a limb. There is something to be said about a little one wishing to cooperate when they are watching their arm or leg being chewed up.”

He frowned. “I played a lot of cards in my day, you can learn a lot by watching somebody’s face. I don’t for a minute think you’re bluffing, but I want some assurances for my cooperation.”

“The only assurance I can extend to you is that if you do not cooperate, your suffering will be beyond anything you might possibly imagine. The same talents that have allowed me to render you thus can be used to ensure you do not die until I permit it,” she said forthrightly.

“Right then,” he replied, the gravity of the situation seeping into his head.

She smiled, a polite smile.

Suddenly he laughed. “At least I now understand how two little girls got the drop on the Hammer.”

“Shall we begin?” she asked. He nodded.

Jack and Selene

Selene plucked Jack off the table and nestled him between her substantial globes.

“Don’t bounce around too much, your boulders could do me some harm,” he cautioned, able to drape an arm onto the inner slopes of each of her breasts.

“Like this is my first time. Please,” she said sarcastically.

Exiting Hilde’s house, she climbed back into her car. She carefully brought the seatbelt over to make sure he wasn’t constrained.

“What happens if you have an accident? I’ll get crushed between your titties and the airbag,” he answered his own question.

“Then you better hope I don’t have an accident then,” she said, starting the car and clicking on the headlights.

“So what’s Snowball’s story?” he asked, squirming a little against her smooth flesh.

“Snowball?” she asked.

“The white haired chick with the rattlesnake disposition,” he clarified.

“Oh, you mean Serah,” she said.

“Sure, Serah. She took Jimmy. Made a point of making sure I saw her take him, even when I tried to vouch for him,” he said.

Selene shrugged.

“Am I ever going to see him again?” he asked.

Selene pursed her lips. “Maybe, but probably not,” she replied glumly.

“That’s not right,” he stated. “So what’s up her ass anyway?” he asked.

“It’s long story,” she responded, ruminating.

He looked from side to side. “Yeah, well given the circumstances, let’s just say I got time,” he countered acerbically.

She chuckled. “It’s a love triangle that went wrong, that’s really about it,” she informed.

“You spin a compelling yarn,” he replied facetiously, “And long, you almost lost me there a couple of times, but I think I was able to follow the winding narrative.”

Again she chuckled softly. “Handsome and a smart ass. I’m going to have some fun trying to see if I can humble you, just a little,” she said.

He made a dismissive sound with his mouth as she brought the car in front of a tall building. Turning into the ramp that led to underground parking the steel curtain barring entry began to rise. Once it had cleared the roof height of her car, she drove the car inside. Circling down deeper into the parkade, there were several high end cars parked in the lot near what appeared to be an opening for an elevator. She pulled the Vanquish to a stop amidst a couple of Lambo’s, a Ferrari, amongst others. Checking herself in the vanity mirror behind the visor, she smiled.

“You live here?” he asked, still trying to check out the fancy rides as she climbed out of the car and crossed the cement to the elevator.

“No,” she replied, breast flesh moving around him with each step she took. Pressing the elevator button, she waited, tapping her foot impatiently.

“What are we doing here then?” he asked, elevator doors opening.

“You’ll see,” she said, stepping inside the elevator. She took out a key and put it into a slot in the elevator’s keypad. Suddenly the elevator began to descend.

Jack frowned, “We going down?”

She smiled. “Rest assured, at some point tonight I’m sure you will be,” she replied with a soft chuckle, amused at her innuendo.

When the door opened, there was a single long hallway straight ahead, one door to the left, a double set of doors forty feet distant at the end of the hall. He could hear the rhythmic boom of bass and techno beats coming from beyond the double set of doors. There was a nicely attired woman waiting at the door.

“Hi Selene,” said the woman, welcoming smile on her face, as Selene walked down the hall.

Selene smiled and nodded back. “Busy tonight?”

“Not too bad,” replied the woman, opening the door as Selene neared.

There were lights strobing different colors in tune with the music. There was a long bar on an elevated platform against the wall with seats along it edge, a giant mirror with all sorts of liquors prominently displayed. There was a large open floor filled a number of women dancing. Tables lined the edge of the floor, then up a step was a railing and walkway, several private booths ringed the wall. Everything looked plush and fancy. At table where people were sitting, he could see a tiny figures his size on the table.

As he looked around, it occurred to him, every single large person in the place was female, including the bartender. He guessed there were upwards of eighty people in the club

“Hey,” he said, trying to be heard above the bass. “HEY!” he yelled, slapping his hands against Selene’s breasts.

Selene looked down and winked. Finding an empty booth along the wall, she slid into it. Reaching down, she put her fingers around him, pulled him out and set him on the table. He walked to the edge of the table to observe the goings on.

At a table adjacent to the dance floor, he watched two women kissing, hands caressing and touching each other. When they broke the kiss and their mouths parted, he could see two little legs sticking out of one woman’s mouth. Tipping her head back, she made a slight motion and the legs vanished into her mouth as she swallowed.

“Holy fuck!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. He turned to Selene. “Did you just see that?” he said, pointing a little arm in the direction of the woman who had just devoured a tiny person, but she either didn’t hear him or ignored him.

As he surveyed the room, he could see other couples engaged in erotic play, some using little people to enhance the experience, others not.

“What kind of place is this?” he asked, eyes roving over other tables where tiny people were.

“This is private club of sorts, where women like me and the others you know can get together and let our hair down, in a manner of speaking” she answered.

His mind boggled. “There are so many,” he commented. The little voice in his gut, the one that kept him alive during two prison riots and a half dozen other hairy situations was jangling like never before, he very much wanted to be away from this place.

A young woman dressed in black slacks and a white blouse walked up to the booth, “Hey Selene, the usual?” she asked, smile on her face.

Selene pursed her lips, “Not tonight Kiara, I’ll take something citrusy with a bit of a kick,” she replied.

“Who’s your cute little friend?” she asked, looking down on Jack and smiling.

“This Kiara is Jack Dalton,” Selene said with a grin. The other woman seemed dumbstruck a moment.

“The Jack Dalton? The one the Dark Goddess gave a pass to?” she asked, impressed.

“One in the same,” replied Selene.

She smiled broadly. “Wow,” she said, eyeing him a little closer. After the cursory inspection, she turned to get Selene’s drink.

“That was fucking weird,” he commented. “Why did she act like that?”

Selene chuckled. “You are an anomaly. Not many beings get a pass, let alone one from Clarissa. You probably see her only as Clare and Clarice’s mother, but she is so much more and sometimes, that more is not very nice.”

As the young woman who had collected Selene’s order departed, she stopped at a couple of tables on her way back to the bar. Wherever she stopped, female heads would turn to look back in his direction. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“I am getting a real uneasy feeling here,” Jack said, watching as a woman seated near the bar stood up. She was absolutely stunning, wavy dark hair with lighter accents swept back off her face, tight dark dress accentuating an unbelievable body. He took a couple of steps back toward Selene as the woman approached, her large luminous bluey gray eyes drifting from him to Selene and back again.

“Hello Selene,” said the woman, voice dusky and laden with hidden promise, as she came to stand near the table.

“Lily,” Selene answered. “Have a seat,” she said indicating the opposite side of the leather bound booth.

“Kiara says this is Jack Dalton, the Jack Dalton,” said the other woman, eyes evaluating the tiny figure on the table.

“Indeed he is,” Selene acknowledged.

The woman named Lily waved her hand in his direction and the sigil on his arm began to glow white. “Amazing,” she said. “I am looking right at him and other than my eyes there is absolutely nothing,” she said, tone sounding astonished.

Another woman appeared at the table, a blonde with bob cut hair, shorter than Lily. “This is him?” she asked, eager expression on her face as she looked down on him then to Lily, then to Selene.

Selene smiled and nodded. Already uncomfortable, Jack started feeling worse.

Lily waved the blonde away, protests dying on the woman lips. “Come closer Jack,” she said fixing her eyes on his diminutive body, plump lips making a smile. “Let me get a decent look at you.”

He frowned. Tentatively he took a step toward Lily, but his head was still on a swivel as the activity all around him continued.

“Where are my manners?” Selene said. “”Jack, this is Lilith, Lily. Lily this is Jack.” His attention returned to the woman seated at the booth.

Lily’s smiled widened, gleaming white teeth between her lightly colored lips. Jack half-heartedly smiled and nodded.

Lily tapped the table in front of her with the pad of her right index finger, “Come to me Jack,” she invited.

The woman Kiara returned with two drinks. Setting one down in front of each woman. Selene looked up at her and smiled, but Lily kept her eyes riveted to Jack.

Lily tapped again, smile fading, she was one not accustomed to waiting. Jack moved a few more steps toward her, coming to stop a few inches from the edge of the table in front of her, eight or so feet to him. At this range, he could smell her perfume, some enticing scent, something captivating.

Placing her hand over his head, she pointed down with her index finger and made a circular motion, “Turn for me Jack,” she said.

He did, pivoting slowly.

Picking him up with her right hand, she set him in the palm of her left hand and brought him near her face. Closing her eyes, she brought him near her mouth and inhaled his scent. Opening her eyes, she smiled approvingly. “I want him,” she said to Selene.

Jack flicked a glance back to Selene, there was little doubt in his mind he did not want to go with this other woman.

“Clarissa has placed him in my charge for the moment,” Selene explained, holding up her hands as if there was naught she could do about the situation.

Lily smiled and nodded before lowering him back to the table. Leaning back in the booth, “What the Dark Goddess wills,” she mumbled, tapping a manicured painted nail against the table.

Selene smiled apologetically.

Lily returned a vacant smile. Thwarted for the moment, she looked down on Jack. “Another time assuredly little one,” she said. Rising from the booth, she looked to Selene and nodded.

Selene nodded in return. Lily gathered her drink and left the table.

Jack walked back over to Selene, aware of eyes watching him but paying them little heed. “You know what, I may be little, but I can tell when someone is rubbing someone else’s nose in the shit. That’s what you just did to that Lily chick. For some reason you trotted me out like some little prize that she couldn’t have as a fuck you,” he said, a scowl on his face.

Selene manufactured an innocent look, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. This whole little show,” he cracked. “And who the fuck is this Lily broad that the other chicks here seem a little afraid of?”

“Lily governs another circle, a fairly strong one,” Selene explained. “The bobbed blonde Willow is one of hers.”

He paused, digesting the information. “So you aren’t all part of the same group?” he asked.

“Heavens no, there are many circles around the world,” she provided. Lifting her glass, she took a sip.

“So there are nine in your circle, ten with Abbie?” he asked.

“There are fifteen sisters in my circle, and Abbie is what we would call a little sister, think of her as a pledge for a sorority, not yet a full member.”

“Fifteen?” he asked. “I thought there were like nine of you, that’s all I counted at the hunt,” he remarked.

Selene laughed softly. “That’s all that could attend. There are still five others you’ve yet to meet.”

He scowled. “If Lily is in charge of her own circle, who governs your circle?” he asked.

“Hilde,” she replied.

“Oh,” he answered, nodding to himself. “That makes sense,” he conceded.

Another woman, dirty blonde hair pinned back, attired in tight black jeans and white t-shirt arrived at the table. Selene looked up and smiled broadly before climbing out of the booth and wrapping her arms around the other woman.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Selene exclaimed, breaking the embrace. She pointed at the space where Lily had been sitting, “Please sit.”

The woman smiled and plunked down into the booth, teal colored eyes evaluating Jack before looking back at Selene.

“Jessa, meet Jack, Jack this is Jessa,” Selene introduced.

He turned and nodded slightly by way of acknowledgement. She smiled down on him.

“Your pet has caused quite a stir here in the club,” Jessa said, pointing a finger at Jack. There were several set of eyes surreptitiously watching the booth, other openly looking.

“Pet?” he asked, looking from woman to woman

“I didn’t know you were in town,” Selene said, ignoring Jack.

“Pet?” he repeated.

“I arrived earlier today. I swung by your place but you were out, so I took a chance you might show up here,” she explained.

Turning to face Jessa, “I ain’t nobody’s pet sweetheart,” he snorted, indignant look on his face.

Jessa smiled down on him. “That’s so cute,” she said, “It isn’t even aware yet.”

“Fuck that shit,” he countered.

“Quiet now little one,” Jessa said, looking back to Selene.

He turned and took a couple of steps back toward Selene, “Who the fuck does this broad think she is?” he demanded, jerking a thumb back in her direction.

Selene smiled and held up her hand. “Jack, Jessa is an old friend,” she explained.

“I saw you tormenting your sister,” Jessa said.

“Lily?” Jack asked. “Lily is your sister?”

“She’s my half-sister,” she answered, “We have the same father.”

“But she’s in a different group,” he said, puzzled.

“What do you say we get somewhere a little quieter so we can catch up, maybe even play with your vocal little toy?” Jessa said coyly, raising an eyebrow.

“Now I’m a goddamn toy?” Jack barked.

Selene smiled, “I’d like that,” she replied. Looking down at Jack, her smile widened, “Come along Jack, it’s time to go.” Making an angry face at Jessa, he lifted his elbows as Selene lifted him by his torso and set him back between her breasts.

Lily watched, no smile on her face. Looking over to another table where two women were sitting, she nodded slightly, then turned her eyes to the departing Selene. The women, one fairly short, wavy auburn hair, the other, taller a brunette with short hair nodded almost in unison and began to leave. A slow smile spread across Lily’s flawless face.

Behind the eight ball

Trevor woke up flat on his back on a velvety surface brilliant green in color. A bright overhead light shone down on him. Sitting up, he raised his hand to shy the light away from his eyes. He was surprised to find himself naked. A couple of feet away, the bouncer Luka lay on the impossibly flat green.

“What the fuck is going on here?“ he asked aloud, tone mumbled, trying to connect the dots of recent events in his mind as he took a couple of steps toward the other man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the fuliginous darkness beyond the intense light beaming down, something incredibly large. He turned to look, peering into the blackness. Something immense was approaching and as it grew larger, he realized it was a woman, visible from the hips up, a black t-shirt with a picture and the band name ‘Injustice’ printed on it. From what he could see, she was seventy or so feet tall. Dark hair hanging loose around her head and down her back. She looked a lot like the girl Arvin shot. She was holding a long narrow piece of wood in her hands, tapered.

“Hello Trevor,” she said, turning the wood in her hands and holding it straight up and down between her hands.

He shook his head slightly, “What? What’s going on?” he asked.

Luka made a noise as consciousness returned. Trevor turned to watch. Pushing himself up, Luka had a confused expression on his broad face. “Trevor?” he asked.

Trevor turned his head to look at the gigantic woman standing at the edge of the green expanse. Luka followed his eyes, his own growing huge and round as he saw her.

“My name is Clare,” she said with a smile, “And she,” she looked across the table, “Is Angela.”

Both men followed Clare’s eyes to see the other enormous woman move close. Angela smiled. She was wearing a t-shirt with pink sleeves, a gold halo stenciled on the front. Her blonde haired was pulled back, strands of blue hanging free but tucked behind her ears. Like the dark haired girl, she was holding a similarly shaped slender piece of wood in one hand. She reached down and picked up a blue cube and brought it to the end of the wood. He knew what it was. Chalk. Pool chalk. He looked over the field, a hole in each of the four corners, one in either side along the long axis. He was standing on a pool table. Angela put the chalk back down.

“Trevor?” Luka repeated.

“So I’m told you were being quite the douche when you met with my sister,” Clare said. Angela moved around the table, fishing colored numbered balls out of the pockets and rolling them along the rail toward the end of the table.

“What are you doing?” Trevor asked, watching the blonde woman rolling balls nearly as tall as he was down the table.

Clare smiled. “Why, we are going to play some pool of course,” she answered, “What is it with you guys and your inability to comprehend the obvious?”

“What madness is this?” he asked, “How?” He shook his head.

All of the balls on top of the table, Angela bent down and retrieved the wooden triangle. Setting it down, she started filling it with balls, the phenolic resin clicking against the slate beneath the felt.

“How what? Play pool?”

Luka began to wander toward the side cushion,

“No, how are we so small?” he asked, looking at Luka then back to Clare.

Clare chuckled, turning her head to Angela she asked, “What was it Jack said, bad lifestyle choices?”

Angela smiled and nodded. All of the balls in the triangle, she rearranged them so they solids and stripes were evenly dispersed.

Trevor started to shake, anxiety beginning to overwhelm him. Luka was almost to the rail. Clare lowered her cue and used it to herd him back toward Trevor.

Angela rolled the cue ball slowly up to the other end of the table.

Clare circled around the table, taking the cue ball and setting it on the center dot of the three along the line. Angela grabbed the triangle and rolled it in a circular motion, finally bringing it to rest on the dot before pulling the wooden frame away.

“You can’t be serious?” Trevor queried, voice almost breaking.

Clare frowned. Looking down the table she asked, “Does it sound like he might be on the verge of crying?”

Angela nodded slowly. “Sounds like it,” she agreed.

“Please,” he said, tone plaintive.

“You break,” Angela said.

Clare nodded, bending over and drawing a bead on the cure ball.

“Jesus, fucking wait!” said Trevor, putting his hands up.

Clare looked up from her shot, “What?”

“Don’t do this thing, please, I don’t want to go out this way,” he pleaded. “If you want me to beg, I’ll beg, please.”

Luka frowned. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but be damned if he was going to start sniveling like some fucking bitch. He walked over and cuffed Trevor on the back of the head.

Angela laughed.

Clare rolled her eyes, then took aim. The cue ball struck the triangular collection of balls almost dead on, scattering the fifteen balls in all directions, sinking the blue number 2 ball in a corner pocket. Luka and dodged out of harm’s way, while Trevor was struck from behind by the yellow striped 9 ball coming back off the rail. Though the ball grazed him, the force was enough to throw him off his feet and to the slate. He raised his arms as the green 6 ball rolled slowly up against his side.

“You’re solids,” Angela said. Clare walked around the table looking for her next shot. Trevor pushed the 6 ball away and got to his feet, pain in his left leg, he limped as Clare circled the table.

“Bank shot 5 ball corner pocket,” Clare called.

“Never going to happen,” Angela said, shaking her head.

Clare lined up the shot, striking the cue ball low to draw it back up the table. The orange ball struck first one rail near the corner pocket then other, before careening back out. Luka narrowly avoided being hit by the cue ball back spinning while Trevor limped away.

“Told you,” said Angela. She called and sank the next three shots, the last of which was a spectacular double banked shot.

“That was such a fluke!” said Clare.

Angela looked at the men on the table. “Did I or did I not call that shot?” she asked, arms out wide.

Luka nodded, Trevor ignored her.

She missed her next shot.

Clare pointed her cue directly at Luka, “So you’re on her side are you?” she said playfully. “Remember, I picked you, if she wins, she’s going to swallow you down.” His eyes widened as he prepared for her next shot.

Clare rattled off five consecutive balls before missing her last colored ball, the purple 4 ball. Angela sank the 14 and 15 balls before scratching. Clare potted the 4 ball, leaving the cue ball at the end of the table and the eight ball near the opposite end.

Chalking her cue, she evaluated her chances of sliding the 8 ball into the far corner pocket without kissing off the striped 11 ball.

“You‘re not going to make it,” Angela teased.

Clare struck the cue ball with a fair degree of impact and some side english trying to slide the 8 ball passed the number 11 ball, but the black ball clipped the edge of the red striped ball suddenly altering its direction directly at Trevor who was standing near the orange striped 13 ball. The hobbled man tried to get out of the way, but the 8 ball was moving too fast, smashing his leg between it and the 13. Trevor screamed as he toppled to the felt, pain shooting up and down his leg. On his back, he grabbed his leg between his hands.

“Tough break, I thought you had that one,” Angela said looking to Clare, “Not.” Taking a bead, she sank the 11 ball. Smiling, she circled the table. “Looks like the big one is going to be mine,” she said. Lining up the 12 ball but missing.

“Ha!” Clare said. “It’s all over now except for the crying,” she pointed at Trevor who was still cradling his broken knee. She dropped the eight ball and curtsied.

Angela rolled her eyes and frowned. “Lucky.”

Walking to the rail nearest Trevor, Clare leaned in and plucked him by the foot of his wounded leg off the table between her thumb and forefinger. Lifting him up, she brought him over her head. He shrieked and flailed in agony as he was dangled for a moment by his injured leg over her face. Opening her mouth, she lowered him close, ignoring his protests, and dropped him in. Closing her mouth, she swallowed, the sensation of him moving down her throat making her shudder slightly.

Luka huddled against a rail, short of breath from the exertion of dodging billiard balls.

“What about him?” Angela asked, pointing at him.

Clare smiled. “We were only playing for fun anyway, he’s all yours,” she said.

Angela smiled and licked her lips.

The Pin

When Jimmy opened his eyes, it was dark. He found he couldn’t move, his body was wrapped in something translucent and incredibly restrictive, the only thing exposed was his head. “Hey!” he called out. Squirming, trying to shimmy out of whatever confined him proving fruitless, other than making him sweat. “Fuck,” he muttered. He wondered how the hell he wound up naked and rolled up like day old leftovers. The last thing he could recall was Little Train plugging the girl, Jack jumping to her side, the door opening and then nothing. Lying back he frowned. Rocking from side to side, he found he could use momentum and roll. Once, twice, he rolled himself sideways until coming to a stop when he came into contact with something cold and unyielding. Rolling the other way, he got a fair number of turns in before coming into contact with another edge. It seemed sloped up and in, like he was inside some kind of a dome or something. Jimmy frowned, drained from the effort, he lay there contemplating. A nasty thought crept into his head, was he being whacked? He’d seen bodies rolled up in poly before. He didn’t hurt anywhere. Jesus he muttered. Suddenly there was light as the concave object was lifted away, a decorative pattern lining an inner ring inside the inverted soup bowl. The world spilled out around him, he was lying on a smooth flat surface, light suspended overhead, centerpiece on the table. Chair backs surrounded the table on three sides, on the fourth side was a woman with white hair folded back in on itself behind her head, right hand moving the bowl to the side, left arm resting on the table. Jimmy gobbled at the air. She was massive, like Statue of Liberty massive. Turning her head she looked to where she was going to set the bowl, face devoid of expression. She was astoundingly beautiful, but so cold, blue eyes like chipped ice.

Setting the bowl down, upright, she turned back to look down upon him, regarding him with indifference.

Turning his head left and right, before looking up at her, “This isn’t fucking funny!” he barked angrily, wiggling in his confinement.

“Do you see me laughing?” she asked, face serious, icy eyes unreadable, full lips pursed.

He grunted and pushed against the transparency holding him. Unable to create any type of play in his restraint, “Hey lady, please, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, please,” he begged.

“What possible reason could you give me to keep you alive?” she asked, tone neutral, neither mocking nor menacing.

“Sweet Jesus, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he continued, futilely thrashing against his bonds again.

Her expression remained impassive, inscrutable. “Should I just consume you and be done with you then?” she asked.

“Consume?” he asked, eyes growing wide, his struggles becoming desperate.

“Give me some reason not to,” she instructed.

“C’mon,” he said, lying back. “I’m nothing but skin and bone,” he said, trying to be comical.

She arched an eyebrow, “There certainly isn’t much to you,” she agreed.

“That’s why they call me the Pin, Jimmy the Pin,” he said.

“I don’t care,” she replied without emotion.

“Please, what’s your name?” he asked.

“What does it matter to you? Will it give you some comfort to know my name as my stomach acid slowly dissolves what little flesh there is from your bones?” she asked.

“It might,” he said, “I’d know who to cuss out.”

The faintest wisp of a smile touched the corner of her mouth and then it was gone.

“I saw that! You smiled!” he asserted. “There’s your reason, I made you smile,” he cried, hoping it was enough to warrant a stay of execution.

“And you believe that’s reason enough for me to allow you live?” she inquired, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“Like that chick in the book, you know, the Arab one, Arabian Nights, yeah that’s it. That chick was going to get killed by the dude, but she kept telling him stories and he couldn’t kill her,” he said.

“So you are going to be my little Scheherazade and tell me entertaining stories so that I won’t eat you? Is that the crux of your plan?” she asked.

“Lady I will do whatever you want me to do, please don’t eat me,” he replied. “Stories, I’m almost famous for my back rubs, well, but, that might be a bit of a problem,” he said, looking down toward where his hands were pinned and frowning.

She seemed to consider it a moment. Reaching in with her right hand, she picked him up by his feet and lifted him into the air.

“No!” he screamed hanging upside down several times his own body height.

“Quiet yourself,” she said with a frown, removing the clear cling wrap from around his frail body, before laying him back on the table.

He scrambled to his feet, choking back on emotion.

“I am not in the habit of collecting pets,” she said.

“Thank you,” he expressed, dropping to his knees.

“Pin,” she said. “It suits you.”

“What should I call you?” Jimmy asked.

“Serah,” she said.

“Thank you Serah, thank you,” he effused.

She frowned anew, “Silence would be best for now, lest I be inclined to regret this impulse,” she said.

Rising from her chair, he watched as she crossed the dining area to go to a cupboard in her kitchen. Retrieving a box of cereal and unrolling the plastic bag within. Grabbing three flakes, she set them on the counter and closed up the box. She peeled a square of paper towel from a roll on the counter, gathered the flakes and returned to the table and set them near Jimmy. She lay the towel down near him.

“I will not tolerate any messes,” she said, “Now eat.”

He looked at the cereal flakes, each roughly the size of his head. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You’re not trying to fatten me up are you?” he asked, bending down and picking one up.

The ghost of the smile touched her lips again. “Eat,” she said.

He grabbed ahold of a flake and started to gnaw on it.

“You are acquainted with Jack Dalton?”

He finished chewing. “The Hammer? We got some history,” he said, nodding.

Sitting back down, “Tell me,” she said.

“We used to live on the same street when we were kids. I was always kind of small and Jack looked out for me, made sure no one on the block put a hurt on me, unless I brought it on myself, you know, sometimes talking when maybe I should have been listening. We used to hang out down by the rail yards, busting into cars and stuff. Small time stuff led to bigger stuff and we both wound up on the wrong side of the law.”

“Tell me about his mother,” she encouraged.

Jimmy chuckled. “I used to have the biggest crush on her, she was so pretty. She worked a lot, hardly ever was at home, I think that’s why Jack was on the street.”

“Where is she now?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Jack’s father?”

He shook his head. “Jack said he took off before Jack was born, didn’t know his dad.”

She nodded again. “Why were you on the street?” she asked.

“Unlike Jack’s dad, my dad was home a lot, except he had a taste for whiskey. Bastard used to get mean when he was drunk, which seemed to be all the time, I needed to be somewhere else.” He chuckled, “When we were sixteen, Jack went at my old man, laid the sonofabitch out cold and told him if he ever put a hand on me or my mom again, he’d kill him.”

“Did he?”

“No, just came home one day and the old man was gone, haven’t seen him since,” Jimmy answered.

Serah nodded. “Thank you,” she said, rising from the table.

“Um, so what am I supposed to do?” he asked.

She turned, “I’m sure you are capable of entertaining yourself. Just make sure you do not leave a mess,” she said before leaving the room.

Jimmy frowned. He didn’t understand the white haired woman’s interest in Jack or his history, but he was grateful to still be drawing breath. Equipped with a vivid imagination, he certainly was able to envision what it would have been like to be deposited into her stomach alive and kicking. He shuddered at the thought.

Serah sat in the living room of her home, head back on the plush couch as she tried to connect confusing fragments of information in her mind. While she had heard about Clare’s capture of Jack Dalton, she gave it no mind, just more meaningless prey. But tonight, at Hilde’s, it was the first time she had actually set eyes on the man. She was taken aback, stunned because she recognized him, or at least his features. There was no mistaking the likeness, she had seen those same features on another man before, but so many years ago. That man had been her first love, her only love, before he was ripped away from her and her heart was broken. Long dormant emotions welled to the surface, anger, sadness, joy, things she hadn’t felt in forever. Who was Jack Dalton?

Lily

The moment Selene and Jessa entered the elevator, Jessa pressed Selene back against the rear of the lift and leaned in close for a hug, kissing Selene first on the mouth then the neck.

“You shouldn’t have brought your pet here tonight, Lily is coming for him. You need to be away from here,” she whispered, taking an earlobe between her teeth and tugging on it playfully as her left hand caressed Selene’s right breast, before breaking the embrace.

The two women following stepped in just as the door was beginning to close, the tall brunette smiling and nodding, “Selene, Jessa.”

“Katya,” Selene replied with a polite smile, turning to the shorter woman with the auburn hair. “Alina.”

“Selene,” said the shorter woman in response.

“Dammit,” exclaimed Jessa, “I forgot my purse. Hold the lift for me,” she said, stepping out of the elevator compartment.

“You can catch the next one Jessa,” said Alina with a slight frown, pressing the close door bottom.

“Remember what I told you,” Jessa said, stepping out of the elevator and looking back as the doors closed.

Selene winked and smiled. When the door opened, she returned to her car, heels clicking on the polished cement. Using the fob, she unlocked the doors and climbed inside. Sitting back in the driver’s seat. Pulling the front of her dress forward, she examined the tiny male figure nestled against her firm breast and smiled.

Taking out her cell phone, she texted a message, “The piece is in play.” Smiling, she returned her phone to her purse.

Jessa frowned. Lifting her hand, she looked down at the tiny slumbering form of Jack Dalton. Her mind briefly flicked at the possibility of having a little fun with him, but she decided it more prudent to simply deliver him to Lily as she’d been instructed to do. She felt bad for lying to Selene, but the feeling passed quickly as she comforted herself in the knowledge it was Selene’s own fault for parading him here.

Walking back into the main area of the club, she stopped by Lily’s table. Lily looked up and smiled. “Did my dear little sister suspect anything?”

Jessa took a seat and shook her head. “I made the switch, as you requested,” she said, moving the closed hand containing Jack across the table.

Lily smiled, “Not here, go to the washroom, I’ll meet you there.”

Jessa nodded and complied, crossing the club to the washroom.

Lily arrived and turned to Jessa. She extended her right arm and opened her hand. Jessa dutifully deposited the tiny male form.

“He is handsome in his way I suppose,” she said, rolling him back and forth in her palm.

“You are pleased?”

Smiling she looked at Jessa, “You are free to go,” she said.

 Jessa nodded and left the bathroom. Crossing the club, she took the elevator up to the parking garage. Selene was sitting in her car, smile on her face as Jessa climbed into the passenger seat.

“My place?” Selene asked.

Jessa smiled and nodded.

Entering a stall, Lily lifted her dress about her hips and slid down her underwear. Setting him in the gusset, she drew her panties back up, the pressure sufficient to hold him tight against her delicate flesh. Smiling, she stood up and sorted her dress. Moving her hips from side to side she enjoyed more perhaps the victory over her sister than the sensation of the tiny man trapped in her panties, though it was a very close pleasurable second.

Jack woke up completely immobilized. He knew at once where he was, lodged in somebody’s panties and wedged up against a vagina, he just didn’t know whose. He tried to squirm against the tight smooth material holding him fast and move, but to no avail. “Crap,” he mumbled. He could feel whomever it was walking and felt the material tighten as she sat down. Sounds were muffled as labial lips held him fast in the pink groove.

He pondered how he passed out, he remembered going into the bra at the table, then waking up here. Weird. The scent and taste of his current residence were unfamiliar, he wondered if he was inside Jessa’s panties, he was tempted to bite, but remembering how well that worked for Tony discouraged him. Better just to ride it out.

It seemed quite some time before fingers closed around his upper body, pulling him free of his velvety prison. Turning around and over, he was set down on a table. Sucking in a lungful of fresh air, he turned to face his jailor. “Lily,” he said, surprised.

She smiled. “You may call me Mistress,” she said.

“Where the fuck is Selene?” he demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

Reaching down, she took his left arm in her fingers and broke it between elbow and shoulder.

He gasped, clutching his damaged wing with his other arm. He looked at the arm, then back to her.

“You’ve grown quite bold in the company of your betters,” Lily said. “I assure you, my tolerance for your disrespect is nonexistent. You will simply obey.”

He was about to crack off, but the pain in his arm throbbed, reminding him to exercise better judgement. He scowled at her.

She smiled, “Good, you are amenable to instruction,” she praised, reaching down and petting him gently on his head.

“You know they’re going to find me,” he said.

“There stupid little girl’s in Hilde’s circle. How? How will they find you? You’ve got that wonderful sigil on your arm that prevents even the divine ones from tracking you,” she said with a throaty chuckle.

Jack frowned.

“My sister should have warned you, I always get what I want,” she said.

He shook his head. “Then why want me, why take me?” he asked.

“Simply because I could,” she answered smugly, as if the answer were obvious.

He nodded. “So you’re a conniving bitch,” he said, still cradling his broken arm.

“Oh please, I have been called so much worse, but if it sets your little mind at ease to label me so, so be it,” she said, “You are of such little import.”

He frowned, unsure of what to say, or how to appeal to this woman.

She sensed his consternation and laughed. “I do believe you are beginning to understand how the remainder of your life will be, in subservience, whether long or short, you are mine now,” she said.

He glowered.

She smiled. “Now we will need a new name for you, something more befitting your menial position,” she tapped her full lips, pondering. “Smudge,” she said smiling. “Yes, I think that’s it. Henceforth, you will be Smudge.”

“Smudge? What kind of name is Smudge?” he asked, wrinkling his face.

“It is your fate little one. I am sure at some point I will weary of you, then discard you like so many before. Whether by the heel of my hand, the sole of my foot, the cheek of my ass, you will become nothing more than a red smear, a smudge. An ignominious end to a pathetic life of no consequence,” she informed.

“Now what?” he challenged. When she lifted her hand, he hastily added, “Mistress.”

She lowered her hand, “For tonight, I think you will sleep with Medusa,” she said, looking over at the large aquarium on the wall containing a bottom of sand, lava rock, and some desert like vegetation.

“Medusa?” he asked, eyes following hers.

Getting up, she lifted him from the table and walked over to the aquarium. “She is called an inland taipan, genus Oxyuranus microlepidotus,” she said, holding him over the aquarium for him to better see.

“Jesus Christ! A fucking snake? You’re going to put me in a tank with a giant fucking snake?”

“Although she is quite large for her species, she’s fairly docile,” Lily assured.

He tried to squirm, effort futile particularly with the injured arm.

“Be careful though, she specializes in hunting little mammals and she is quite poisonous,” she said, lowering him into the tank. Medusa curled up at the intrusion into the environment.

Lily chuckled, actually having to use her other hand peel Jack off her fingers, dropping him on the sand inside the aquarium. Jack got up, holding his wounded arm close, he scampered back near one of the rocks, eyes looking for anything that night service as a weapon.

“Don’t worry Jack, I’m sure she’ll like you just fine,” Lily said as she was walking away. “Should you still be alive come the morning, you will service my need,” she added, just before turning out the light.

“Cunt,” Jack whispered, eyes locked on the eight foot reptile at the opposite end of the aquarium.

Clarice

When Clarice awoke, she recognized where she was, Hilde’s. She pulled the cover down and inspected the area where she had been shot, running a hand over her tummy and around her side. There was no evidence she had ever been injured.

A rapping on the door preceded Hilde entering the room.

“Where’s Jack?” Clarice asked.

“Your mother has given Selene custody of him for the moment, as a reward for her timely intervention in this incident,” Hilde replied.

Clarice frowned, grumbling something incoherent.

Hilde raised an eyebrow, “I thought you were good with the whole communal property aspect of Mr. Dalton’s situation?” she asked, crossing the room to sit down on the side of the bed.

“I thought I was, and I know Selene will be good with him, but it makes me jealous,” she conceded. “I want him here with me.”

“There are still some sisters in our circle who have even yet to meet Jack,” Hilde said.

“Great!” Clarice replied, tone exasperated, throwing her hands up in the air. “Wait till Simone or Diaochan gets a look at him. I hadn’t even thought about that, thanks,” she said, crossing her arms and glowering at Hilde.

Hilde smiled and patted her cheek. “You are still young and have yet to quell the yearning in your heart. Think fifty years from now, when he is bent and gray and old and you are unchanged by time, how will your heart feel?” she asked.

“Happy, because those years will have been spent well. I will use my abilities to keep him alive and young,” she stated.

“There are limits to what is allowed under the Covenant and even one such as you cannot defy the Covenant,” Hilde informed.

Clarice scowled.

 “Before we digress further, there are other matter that require your attention. You have a decision to make regarding Mr. Arvin Traynor,” Hilde said. “Your mother has decreed you are to determine what his punishment shall be.”

Clarice nodded.

Hilde’s phone made a chiming sound. “A moment,” she said, swiping her finger across the screen. A text message came in, “The piece is in play.”

Hilde smiled, a sinister looking expression on her lovely face. Tucking her phone back, she rose up off the bed. “You should get dressed, put some food in your stomach and when you’re ready, resolve this affair.”

“Fine,” Clarice replied. Hilde smiled got up and left the room.

Getting dressed, Clarice ate a couple pieces of fruit and some yogurt from Hilde’s fridge before heading to the room Hilde had said contained Arvin. Walking in, she sat down, leaning back and crossing her legs.

Approaching the edge of the table nearest Clarice, “I am to understand my fate lies in your sweet hands lovely girl,” Arvin said with a smile.

Clarice frowned. “I should just pound you flat with my hand,” she said, holding out a curled up fist.

He nodded, “That would certainly do it,” he conceded. “But, let us for a moment consider other alternatives.”

She cocked her head slightly to the side, “Go on,” she encouraged, curious to hear what he might offer in exchange for his life. A smile touched her lips as she recalled her negotiation with Jack, but then it vanished, Arvin was certainly no Jack.

“First off, just throwing this out on the table. You seem no worse for wear. I don’t know if you’re a witch or an alien, alien witch, I don’t know, but if you can shrink me down, why not just erase my memory and let me go,” he suggested.

“Um, no,” she said.

He laughed good-naturedly. “I’m guessing with all the hocus pocus powers you gals have, money is meaningless, so the only thing I got to offer that has any upside value is me. You let me live, I’m yours. You don’t want to get those pretty little, well, no wait, you don’t want to get your hands dirty, send me in. You want someone beat down, I’ll do it. Whatever you need,” he tapped his chest with his right index finger.

She crossed her arms, lips pursed as she evaluated him. “An interesting offer,” she replied.

He nodded, “No games, it’s all I got. You don’t like it, I’m done. I get that.”

“Are you sorry you shot me?” she asked, a smile on her sweet lips.

He laughed. “Sorry I shot you? No. Sorry my tiny little ass is standing here crumbing for his life, a little bit.”

She nodded and smiled. “At least you’re honest.”

“You agree to this, I’m all in. I will spend each minute of whatever life I got left making sure you get whatever your heart desires,” he said directly.

“Are you offering to pledge yourself to me, in all ways?” she asked.

“Yep,” he replied.

She brought her finger up and tapped her lips as she considered his proposal. “Then you are mine, in all ways,” she said, accepting the unconditional terms of his surrender.

“Done deal,” he said, stepping forward and extending his hand.

She smiled and brought her hand down near him he took her right index finger and shook it as he might a hand. “Don’t ever betray me,” she warned.

“A man is only as good as his word,” he said, “And mine is golden.”

“It had better be,” she said. The smile from her face vanished and her eyes grew very cold, “Because if you do, you will meet your end inside my stomach, taking an eternity to dissolve.”

O.R.

What the fuck had happened? Arvin shot Jack’s girl, then blank. Cade frowned, his head pounded as he sat upright in his bed. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he leaned forward, elbows on knees. Mouth taste like someone took a crap in it and used his tongue to wipe. Forcing himself up, he ambled toward the bathroom, scratching himself along the way. He paused in mid scratch, looking down, he was naked. He frowned. Shaking his head he tried to clear away the cobwebs. Did I tie one on? He wondered. Nah. Drugged? Entering the bathroom, he bent and lifted the toilet seat before taking a leak. How did I get home? Shaking off, he walked back into the kitchen area of the apartment. Opening the fridge door he bent over and peered in.

“I see you are finally awakened,” said a female voice from the living area attached to the kitchen, startling him.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, bashing his already aching head against the inside ceiling of the fridge with a loud clunk.

Soft feminine laughter greeted him as he closed the icebox.

Rubbing the back of his head, he walked through the little dining area separating the kitchen from the small living room. Seated on the edge of the chesterfield, attired very similarly to the way he had seen her at the Heller office building, was Hildegarde Helvet.

“Miss Helvet,” he said, hands quickly descending to cover his nakedness.

“I apologize if I frightened you,” she said, giving him a smile.

“What are you doing here in my apartment?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“There are a couple of developing situations that currently require my utmost attention and rather than leave you in a state of limbo for however long, I’ve decided to return you here, for the time being,” she said, slight amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

Cade looked baffled. “What is tarnation is going on here?” he asked, bringing his left hand up to his head and scratching.

“As I’ve said,” she started.

Interrupting her, “Yeah I heard what you said, but none of this shit is making any goddamn sense,” he growled.

“I am here as a courtesy,” she said smartly, frowning slightly.

“Listen, you are in way over your head young lady and you have absolutely no idea the kind of trouble you’re in, the kind of people looking for you, the damage they can do. In your perfect rich little world, you don’t see what happens when the lights go down,” he said.

She puts her hands together in front of her face and laughed a little, “Are you trying to protect me?” she asked.

He frowned, considering. “I’m just trying to tell you you’re not as clever as your think you are,” he said.

“If it will help assuage your chivalric heart, I have already spoken with Mr. Traynor about the issue of his missing personnel,” she informed.

Cade pursed his lips, “You spoke with Little Train?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

She smiled, “Of course, while you were, shall we say, indisposed,” she replied.

“What about the girl who was shot, what’s her name?” he asked, wondering what happened during the time he was missing.

“Clarice? She’s fine, in fact she’s with Mr. Traynor as we speak, giving him an opportunity to mend fences if I’m not mistaken,” she supplied. “I might not have been so generous, but it’s her decision.”

“What about Jack?”

“Clarice’s mother was somewhat displeased with the wounding of her daughter and has left Mr. Dalton in, shall we say, a little bit of a bind. The emphasis is on little,” she said, cheeky grin.

“Clarice’s mother?”

“Clarissa Heller,” Hilde answered.

Cade frowned and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Okay,” he muttered. “How did I get here?”

Her smile widened, “I brought you here,” she said.

He scowled, “By yourself?”

She nodded,

He snorted, “Please,” he said. “You’re like what, a buck twenty, buck thirty and you carried me up here. Did that hallway lurker Demarco help you?”

“The oaf down the hall? Hardly,” she said, tone indignant.

Cade laughed. “I’m like two twenty, maybe a little more,” he said patting a developing paunch. “And you carried me up here, all by yourself?”

She nodded, extending her right hand palm up, and touching the center with the index finger of her left hand. “Right there,” she said, golden eyes sparkling mischievously as she played with him.

“Fuck off,” he said screwing up his face.

“No joke,” she said, returning her hands neatly her lap.

“Okay, tell me how a woman like you carries a guy like me up here? Explain that,” he encouraged.

She stood up, smoothing her dark skirt before fixing him with a smile, “When my other business is concluded, you and I will finish this conversation. Though I must admit, I find your consternation is very amusing and somewhat stimulating.”

He scowled, “If that means confusion, fucking ‘A’ right I’m confused.” He shook his head as she approached.

She put her right hand on his chest, playful smile on her face as she ran her fingers through his chest hair. “In the meantime, I am going to help you in regards to your investigation. Mr. Thomas Edwards has been located, unfortunately he was involved in a traffic accident just across the Mexican border. The authorities down there had some difficulty identifying him and sadly his remains were cremated. Truly a tragedy.”

“Bullshit,” Cade said, looking down at her delicate hand and feeling the warmth of it on his chest.

She smiled, “Of course it is, but for all intents and purposes it is sufficient to close the case,” she answered, moving her fingers lightly across his chest.

He frowned, deepening the lines permanently carved into his face. “What about Arvin’s missing crew?”

“Life is cheap in the criminal underworld, who can say?” she replied, moving a step closer to him, breathing in his male scent.

He coughed and took a step back, breaking contact, hand trying now to hide burgeoning excitement.

She let out a pent up breath and smiled, gold eyes practically glowing.

Looking back to her, he said, “I’ve half a mind to slap some cuffs on you and bring you in.”

She chuckled, moving closer again. “You could try,” she said, an intensity in her voice.

He backed out of the way, clearing a path to the door, face clouded.

She knew now was not the time and as much as she wanted to enjoy him, she sighed, stepping passed him, “I will be in touch,” she said.

He followed her to the door. “I want to get to the bottom of this,” he grumbled.

Pausing, she smiled, eyes locked onto his, “I promise you, we are far from finished, and I can guarantee you will get to the bottom ,” she said, sucking her lower lip into her before exiting the door.

Door closed, out in the hall, she leaned her back against it and counted three slow breaths, quelling her hunger. She chuckled to herself. Checking her watch, she started down the hall.

A door opened further up the hall, Demarco stepped out, basket of laundry tucked under a tattooed arm. A smile touched her lips. He looked up and saw her, then reached down for the door handle. He paused and looked again.

She paused a dozen paces from him, smile still on her faces, a baleful light shining out of her yellow eyes. “Demarco,” she said.

A panic look crossed his face as he recognized her. He pushed his apartment door open and hastily stepped inside.

Stopping at his door, she checked her watch again and frowned. “One day I am coming for that drink Demarco,” she said through the door. Turning, she continued down the hall, the time was drawing close.

After she had gone, Cade flopped on the couch, still able to detect a hint of her fragrance lingering in the air, delightful, sinful. It had been a long time since he had had stirrings like the ones she was bringing out in him.  He shook his head and chuckled softly. He wished he could heads or tails of the situation, but none of it made any sense. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hilde was the lynchpin to unravelling the entire mystery. Her intensity was appealing and unsettling at the same time, like she knew something and she was taunting him.

Walking into the bathroom, he checked himself out in the mirror, there was no way she lugged him up here, he thought to himself, shaking his head. Looking down at his hard on, he laughed and shook his head.

Jessa

Despite taking advantage of their friendship, Jessa did enjoy the thought of spending intimate time with Selene, the girl was damn sexy and an absolute tigress in bed. She had to make sure Selene didn’t get a chance to get a good look at the substitute Jack Dalton, the glamour might not pass a thorough inspection.

Getting back to Selene’s apartment, Jessa became the aggressor, instantly all over Selene. The dark haired beauty with violet eyes gave back as good as she got, steering them into her lavish boudoir. Jessa pulled apart Selene’s blouse, scattering buttons across the floor, while Selene fumbled with the stamped metal button on Jessa’s black jeans.

Jessa reached into Selene’s brassiere and removed the tiny figure, bringing the man to her mouth and coating him in saliva while Selene crouched down and pulled Jessa’s pants down around her ankles.

When Selene stood back up, they shared a kiss before Jessa pushed her back to the bed, causing her to drop onto her bum.  Jessa removed the now spit slick man from her mouth and teased him around Selene’s mouth, before the dark haired woman could capture the tiny figure between her sensually full lips.

Jessa stepped out of her pants and began removing her clothing, peeling off her white top, while Selene removed her own bra. Caressing Selene’s cheek, Jessa took hold of one of the legs sticking out from between Selene’s lips, pulling the man free with a slight popping sound. Cupping him in her hand, she held the slippery man against her own left breast and caressed herself while Selene kissed her stomach, fingers dancing delicately across the outside of her panties.

Running her free hand through Selene’s silky hair, Jessa pulled the man away from her bosom and set him down on the bed near Selene.

The little man appeared to stumble, uncoordinated, almost as if impaired by some intoxicant.

Jessa pushed Selene onto her back and straddled her, moving quickly.

“Careful,” Selene warned, throwing a glance to the tiny figure staggering and trying to remain vertical.

Jessa timed it exactly, calculating and anticipating his movement so that as she moved, her right knee came down directly on top him, her weight crushing his tiny little frame into the sheet. Shifting her hips slightly, she drew her knee back approximately six inches, grinding the little body of the man across the silk sheet in the process, creating a pulpy red stain on the sheet. There were elements of flesh and bone but the stain was no longer recognizable as anything resembling what had once been human.

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Jessa, looking down at the elongated smear on the sheet caused by pinning him to the sheet and moving, as she jerked herself back and away.

“Oh no!” Selene said, violet eyes filled with alarm, as she too looked at the human wreckage. “Jack!” she shrieked.

“I didn’t know he was there,” Jessa said, hands on her face, eyes wide with feigned emotion.

“Oh Jack,” Selene said, eyes welling.

“Oh Selene I’m so sorry,” Jessa said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Selene.

Selene shook her head and returned the embrace.

Jessa held Selene’s head to her chest and stroked her hair. “I’ve never seen you so upset by the loss of a tiny,” she said.

Selene looked up, tears making her eyes red, mascara running. “He was something special,” she said.

Jessa nodded before disengaging and getting up off the bed. Walking out of the room, a ghost of a smile touched the side of her mouth, for all intents and purposes, as far as anybody in Hilde’s circle knew, Jack Dalton was dead. Depending on Lily’s disposition, he might soon be dead in truth anyway, except this way, Lily was exempt from blame.

In the kitchen, Jessa pulled a piece of paper towel from the roll and wetted it before wiping the drying smear of gore from her knee. Satisfied, she folded the paper and discarded it and filled up the teapot, turning on an element on the stove.

Selene emerged from the bedroom, head downcast, and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

By the time Selene emerged, face composed, Jessa had prepared two cups of tea. Selene came out into the living room and sat on the plush chesterfield, Jessa handed her the cup with the tea.

“Again I am so sorry,” Jessa said, sitting beside Selene and folding her legs under her. “I know you said this Jack was special to you and your circle, accidents happen in the heat of the moment, I just wish the little ones weren’t so fragile.”

Selene nodded. “It is the unfortunate reality of their existence,” she replied.

“You still want to…” Jessa asked, slight smile, eyebrow arched, flicking a glance back toward the bedroom.

Selene shook her head, putting the tips of her fingers on Jessa’s lips, her own lower lipping quivering.

Jessa nodded, restraining a pout, she was still feeling incredibly aroused, especially now. “Another time,” she said, feeling deflated and unfulfilled.

Selene nodded, “perhaps you should go,” she suggested.

Jessa nodded, “I’ll call a cab.”

Getting up off the couch, Jessa retrieved her purse. Pulling out her cell phone, she dispatched a quick text to Lily, ‘Fait accompli’ before ringing for a taxi. Gathering her clothes from the bedroom, she redressed.

Returning to the living she sat back down, facing Selene, “Car will be here in ten.”

Selene nodded, cradling the steaming cup of tea between her hands.

“Special or not, you know he was still just a tiny?” Jessa said, pursing her lips.

Selene turned her head, “I know, the sting will pass in time,” she said glumly.

Jessa nodded sympathetically. “We all go through it time to time,” she offered.

The buzzer on the wall near the door sounded.

Looking up, “Your ride is here,” Selene said, setting the cup down on the coffee table before getting up and walking Jessa to the door.

Embracing Selene and exchanging another kiss, more civil than passionate, Jessa walked out to the elevator. Taking the elevator down to the lobby, the doorman saw her and moved near the door, holding it while she walked to the yellow Chevy parked in front of the building, the cab driver standing outside the car leaning against the driver’s door.

A half smile crossed her face, he was cute, tall, the touch of grey in the stubble on his face gave him a rugged appearance and her need had yet to be satisfied as she felt a tingle.

“Where to beautiful?” the cabbie asked, voice gravelly, giving her a broad smile as she approached.

“What’s your name?” she asked, stopping in front of him, she always liked to know the names of her playthings, just made it seem more personal.

He beamed back and moved down the car, “Stuart, Stu,” he replied, opening the back door for her.

She grinned, “One of my favorites,” she said, ducking her head and getting into the car. Now, how to navigate the Covenant.

He smirked to himself as he closed the door, every once in a while the universe smiles upon you.

After Jessa has left, Selene went back to the bathroom and took a shower, washing away the traces of her emotional performance from earlier. She wondered who the poor unfortunate little one was who had been used as the decoy Jack.

Finishing, she stepped out and toweled off her immaculate body, wrapping her hair in the towel. Soon enough she knew, shit and fan were going to come together, and for the first time in a great while, she looked forward to holding the upper hand.

Throwing a sheer satin robe around her nakedness, she collected her cell phone and dialed Hilde’s number.

Bait

Jack tried to keep awake, the throbbing ache in his broken arm actually seemed to help, sending a fresh stab of agony whenever he started to nod. Every time the snake shifted or moved he was on alert, not that he believed he actually stood a chance against the serpent, or the twig he found would stop the monster, but by fuck he wasn’t going to go down without some kind of fight.

The lower part of his left arm began to tingle and itch as the sigil began to glow white. A second design appeared, different than the first, almost seemingly under the first. And it glowed a faint green, he frowned as the itching sensation intensified. The second pattern began to expand up and off his skin, the tendrils of light drifting out as it adopted an odd three dimensional geometric shape.

Medusa moved, he raised his twig defensively between them, still the design grew, out of the aquarium, filling the room in eerie spectral light. There was a brief flash and the design suddenly vanished.

“That was fucking weird,” he said, looking back down at his arm and frowning. He looked over to the coiled snake, eyes narrowed.

From somewhere in the darkness beyond the tank, he heard the rustling sound of fabric. He moved closer to the glass, trying to squint, as if it might help him attune his eyes to the dark interior of the room beyond his confinement. A flicker of movement, nothing distinct, a shadow amongst shadows.

Suddenly a face materialized face right in front of the glass where he standing, startling him that he actually fell over backward. Face would be a misnomer, it was only a set of eyes. The rest of the face was covered by dark material as was the top of the head, like some type of ninja hood. The eyes, almond shaped, long lashes, seemed to regard him a moment. The figure brought a gloved hand to the material covering its mouth, placing a single finger where the lips should be, as if to suggest quiet.

Cradling his arm, he nodded and retrieved his little stick, completely baffled by what was happening. The figure seemed to be doing something on the floor, crouched over and moving around in a circle. He couldn’t see and then the figure merged with the darkness and was gone.

He scowled, unable to penetrate the midnight shroud filling the room.

There was a crashing sound near the aquarium causing Jack to jump, spinning he brought his twig up.

Light filled the room, stabbing his eyes, as a completely nude Lily swept into the room, “What is the commotion out here Smudge?” she asked, voice displeased and irritated, but completely oblivious to the much shorter figure sheathed entirely in black against the wall behind her.

In the split second that followed, several things seemed to occur simultaneously and everything moved in slow motion, like being in a car accident as every second elongated into an eternity, by Lily’s third step, the expression on her face was changing from annoyed to something else as she noticed something on the floor and began to pivot. The dark dressed figure stepped forward from the wall and snapped a kick directly into the small of Lily’s back, pushing the taller woman forward. On the floor there was a flare of light from materials in a circle around Lily, then there was an explosion of yellow light blinding the room followed by a tremendous whooshing sound, and Lily was gone. Vapors of smoke moved through the air before dissipating into nothingness.

The dark clad figure, Jack would have guessed based on the size disparity between it and Lily was maybe 5’2” approached ghost quiet and crouched down, near the glass, evaluating him. In the light he could now see the eyes were the color of polished jade.

A hand appeared, and the hood was pulled away. It was an oriental woman, beautiful beyond description.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The figure remained quiet, evaluating him, appraising him. Her pink plump lips formed a smile as she stood and reached into the tank toward him. He swung his twig defiantly at her approaching hand.

She paused, “You would prefer to remain with the snake?” she asked, voice sweet, eyes smiling.

He looked at her, then the snake before dropping the twig to the ground. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

She smiled, bringing a gloved hand to her face and blowing him a kiss.

He snorted, then passed out, falling face first into the sand lining the bottom of Medusa’s habitat.

Serah’s Pin

Jimmy prowled around the kitchen table, mumbling absently to himself, no means of getting down, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He been around some crazy characters in his time, but this white haired girl made his blood run cold. He chuckled, she was smoking hot, probably one of the prettiest dames he had ever seen, but man, those eyes, chipped ice.

On his second circuit around the table, he was startled, he didn’t see her standing there, watching him. He paused, making eye contact for a moment before feeling intimidated and looking away.

She moved forward without a sound, holding her hand down to him. He nodded and climbed into her palm, swallowing hard. Was this the end?

“Did you hear the one,” he started.

“Silence,” she said smartly, in no mood for his levity.

He ducked his head and remained quiet.

“We are going to your old neighborhood, you will show me Jack’s house,” she stated.

He nodded mutely.

She seemed to look around a moment, he didn’t know for what. Sighing, she placed him inside the cup of her bra, leaving his upper torso and head visible so he might see.

“That’s the one, up there on the right,” he said, pointing.

Pulling the vehicle over, she looked at the house. The building was a single story dwelling, run down, metal bars near the windows and a security door across the front entrance.

Climbing out of the jeep, she crossed the sidewalk to stand on the front lawn, although early in the season already an unhealthy brown and in desperate need of watering.

A group of juveniles were assembled on the front veranda two doors down, several sets of eyes followed her and she moved.

Standing up from his lawn chair, one of the young men sniggered, saying something base and suggestive to his comrades before descending the front stairs and walking in her direction. “Yo, hey there sweet lady, what you doing up here in this neighborhood?” he asked, an exaggerated swagger in his walk as he approached. She cocked her head slightly to the side, evaluating him, his potential as a threat, seeing none. The other couple of young men lagged behind, similarly, no threat.

“Neighborhood has gone for shit,” Jimmy commented, sliding down some in his confinement to shield himself.

Turning away, she continued to examine the house, as if looking for something only visible to her eyes.

“I was talking to you darling, don’t you know how dangerous this hood can be? Fortunate for you, TK is here to protect you from all the bad men round about,” he said with a boisterous chuckle, stopping only a few feet away, head bobbing slowly, a feigned hard look on his young face.

Turning, she looked him in the eyes. “You should go now TK,” she instructed, voice emotionless, without compassion or pity.

The young thug took an involuntary step backward, some instinctive hard wired process in his brain urged him to flee, to run away as fast as he could.

“Crash and burn!” said another one of the young delinquents coming up behind TK.

“W-we should go,” mumbled TK, voice low, taking another step back, eyes incredibly wide.

“What son? This snowy haired bitch put the run on you? Travis King just growed himself a pussy,” jibed a white muscle shirt wearing youth.

TK shook his head, a few more steps separating him from her.

Serah continued to look at him, no expression on her flawless face. She moved her eyes over to the vocal youth. “You should go with TK, Lawrence,” she advised, same neutral tone.

“Bitch fuck that! You don’t come rolling in here issuing orders like that,” Lawrence said, left hand spread wide, right hand pulling up his muscle T to show the pistol tucked into the waist of his jeans.

Serah looked at the gun, then back to Lawrence’s eyes, a smile touched her mouth. “What about you Sully? You going to stick around or you going to follow TK?” she asked without bothering to look at the other boy.

“Bitch how the fuck you know our names?” demanded Lawrence, hand curling around the handle of his weapon.

“Yeah?” added Sully, a heavier set youth dressed almost identically to Lawrence. TK turned and started to run.

Serah nodded slowly. “Two it is.” She moved faster than either boy could possibly follow, efficiency in motion, a split second later, there were two empty sets of clothes lying on the grass. Both boys were gone, vanished from the world down her throat.

“Jesus,” mumbled Jimmy, a mixture of terror and admiration, feeling for a moment like a goldfish swimming with a great white shark.

She turned back to the house, nodding slowly, as it the event had never even happened. Moving around the side of the house, she reached her hand out and touched the stucco wall, a symbol in light began to glow bright enough to be visible despite the bright sun overhead.

“What is that?” Jimmy asked.

“A sigil, like a ward,” she replied.

Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t know what that means,” he said.

“It means someone was watching over this house, the sigil is old, faded. Divine,” she said, slowly removing her hand, the sigil faded until it was no longer visible.

“Divine? Like from god?”

“A divine entity, but the complexity of the design is unlike any I’ve ever seen before,” she answered, “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Um, those two you just ate, are they still alive?” he inquired, voice small.

“You would like to go down there and see?” she asked.

“No,” he answered.

Returning to the front of the house, she push Jimmy down inside the cup, completely hiding him from view, climbed the front stairs and knocked on the door.

A man in his late thirties answered the door, opening the interior door but leaving the metal mesh door locked.

“Whooee, look at you,” he said, can of beer in his hand.

“I’m looking for Jack Dalton’s mother, see used to live here,” she said directly.

The man shook his head, “Don’t know no Dalton,” he said, taking a swig from the can.

“Is there someone else here to speak to?” she asked.

The man frowned. Turning his head, he hollered, “Louise!”

A woman of similar age to the man appeared at the door beside him.

“This girl here is looking for Jack Dalton’s mother,” he said.

“Darla?” said Louise, face warming.

“If that’s her name,” Serah replied.

“Gosh, she moved up the coast some years back,” Louise supplied.

“Do you have an address?”

Louise smiled, “Matter of fact I do, but I don’t know how much good it will do you. Give me a sec, I go see if I can find it for you,” she said, before vanishing back in the house.

“You maybe want to come wait inside, maybe have a beer?” the man asked, waggling the near empty can in his hand.

She locked her eyes on his a moment.

“Or not,” he babbled, taking a few steps backward.

Louise returned, and address scrawled on a piece of paper. Handing the paper through the slot in the security door, she said, “I hope you find her, she was such a nice lady.”

Serah nodded, noting the address and committing it to memory. “Thank you,” she said, moving down the stairs and climbing into her jeep.

Putting the vehicle in gear, she crossed the city and made her way to the address supplied by Louise. It was a small cottage in an outlying community north of the city.

Getting out of the vehicle, she said “Remain quiet and hidden,” she instructed before ringing the doorbell.

The woman who answered the door was in her late forties but could easily have passed for much younger. She smiled warmly. “Yes, may I help you?” she asked.

“Are you Jack Dalton’s mother?” she inquired.

The woman frowned, lines appearing at the corners of her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Serah studied the woman, a slight smile on her face. Waving her hand through the space between them, a mark appeared on the woman’s arm, just visible beneath the skin, faintly luminescent.

A puzzled expression crept over the woman’s face as she looked from her arm to Serah. “You knew about my mark?” she asked.

Serah nodded slowly, “May I come in?”

The woman back up to allow Serah access.

“My name is Serah, I was curious about you and your son,” said the white haired woman.

“Darla,” replied the other woman. “Please, come in, have a seat,” she offered.

Serah walked into the living room, pictures of her and Jack, many of Jack himself, framed and hanging on the wall and on top of a table under the bay window. She paused to study the pictures, a smile coming over her face.

“Would you like something to drink?” Darla asked.

Serah shook her head. Turning, she asked, “You bore Jack naturally?”

Darla nodded.

“I see no pictures of his father,” Serah said, pointing to the wall.

Darla frowned and shook her head. “Jack so resembles his father, they might be twins.”

Serah nodded, understanding now the link between Jack and her lost love, they were undoubtedly sons of the same man, separated by nearly two thousand years and half a world. Looking at the pictures on the wall, she could feel emotional turmoil within herself as ancient memories were dredged up, the pain of losing him to Lily and her callous disregard for his life. She wondered how alike Jack and Tius might be?

Darla pursed her mouth, “Are you okay?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on Serah’s shoulder.

Serah nodded slowly, a weak smile on her face. “May I have this picture?” she asked, indicating one of Jack by himself.

Darla smiled, “Of course.”

Back out in the Jeep, Serah closed her eyes and choked a sob.

Squirming inside her bra to pull himself up and see her, Jimmy scowled. “Why you got it so bad for Jack?” he asked.

She lowered her head slowly, her eyes boring into his soul. He saw his death reflected in the icy blue there. He swallowed hard and looked away, desperately trying not to wet himself.

Familiar Faces

Jack awoke violently, expression immediately pissed off. Completely shrouded in darkness, he reached to support his fractured arm before realizing there was no pain coming from the extremity. Stretching, testing his arm, he brought his hand directly in front of his face but couldn’t see shit. A nasty thought crossed his mind and he hoped to Christ he wasn’t blind. Do I call out and hope for the best? Why did that China girl jack me from Lily’s place? Where the fuck am I? Using his arms as feelers and testing the ground in front of him with a foot he started moving in the darkness, eventually coming to a wall higher than he could judge and traveling  horizontally in both directions. At least there was no giant goddamn snake in here. He paused and frowned. That would suck, blind and now feeling around the inside of snake infested environment, at least with sight and twig he felt like he could do something. Crouching down, he felt the floor and it was hard, no sand. Fuck this shit, he snarled.

“Hey!” he yelled, back to the wall, hands out defensively. Suddenly the wall was lifted away. The light was blinding, he raised his hands to try and shield his vulnerable eyes.

“Motherfucker,” he growled.

“Hello Jack,” he heard the familiar voice of Hilde say, though he couldn’t see her yet because of the harsh light.

“Bitch,” he answered.

There were several chuckles from a bunch of different people. He blinked furiously trying coax his own into focus. Indistinct figures began to sharpen and he realized where he was, Hilde’s house.

He looked around, there were at least a dozen women in the room with him, most he knew, some were strangers to him

“What the fuck happened? Where’s that turbo cunt Lily?” he demanded, raising a fist.

“Oh my god! He is adorable!” said a gorgeous blonde haired woman, girl practically he didn’t know. He extended his right arm and showed her his middle finger.

Hilde smiled, almost a smirk, “We sent Lily on a little trip,” she answered.

“Trip?” he asked.

“To another place. She will be back in time, but for the next while she will be how should we phrase it, indisposed,” Hilde informed, golden eyes full of mischief.

He glowered at her, then swept his gaze over the other women in the room, stopping at Selene. He pointed a finger at her, face dark.

She grinned.

He stopped, looked down at his arm, then back toward Hilde. “That was some magic bullshit that came out of my arm,” he said.

Hilde nodded. “Designed to bring down Lily’s defenses,” she explained. “We implanted that spell beneath the null sigil there, so no one could detect it. Once you were in her inner residence, the spell was triggered, disabling all of her wards and allowing Diaochan to get in here and set the trap, kind of like a Trojan virus piggy backing its way in before doing what it was designed to do,” she answered.

“You used me as goddamn bait?” he challenged, stepping forward.

She nodded, smile intact.

“That crazy psycho bitch tried to feed me to her bloody snake, after she broke my arm!”

Hilde shook her head. “Medusa has recently fed and unless you antagonized her, she was no threat,” she informed, “Frankly, I think you’re being a shade overly dramatic.” She waved a hand and turned her head away.

He looked to the Asian woman. “Diaochan?”

“Where are my manners? Jack, this is Diaochan, Diao this Jack,” Hilde introduced, holding him forward. The beautiful black haired woman with jade colored eyes smiled and nodded.

Looking back at Selene, “Did you know?” he asked.

Hilde chuckled, “Of course she knew, she was the perfect vehicle to get Lily to bite into the plan,” she said shaking her head.

“Her bitch friend Jessa?”

“Jack, I thought you were smarter than that, Jessa belongs to Lily’s circle and did exactly what Lily wanted her do,” Selene answered, “We just facilitated.”

“That is fucked,” he grumbled. “Like a fucking worm on a hook,” he shook his head.

“More like the perfect lure to stick it to Lily,” Hilde answered.

The blonde woman who had called him adorable came close. “I’m Simone,” she introduced. In the background Clarice glowered.

He gave Simone a feigned smile, “Isn’t that special.” He was about to add another insult, but caught sight of the white haired woman, Serah, staring at him, he stopped in his tracks. There was something in the way she was looking at him, he couldn’t describe it.

“Anyway,” Hilde’s voice breaking the fascination, “You’re probably wondering why most of our circle is here,” she said.

He turned slowly back, “Nope, not unless it’s about making me might right size again.”

Hilde slowly shook her head, “Clarissa has decreed not until we’re resolved of the Halston affair where unfortunately for you we have encountered a bit of a wrinkle, anyway, that’s neither here nor there, we’re assembled in case there is a retaliatory action on the part of Lily’s circle. I think it’s highly unlikely, in fact I’m hoping in her absence, her circle splinters,” she stated.

“So this,” he extended his arms out, “Is a like a defensive bunker to ward off on an assault?”

“Exactly,” Hilde said with a smile.

“So why am I here?”

Hilde shook her head, “You have no idea what an anomaly you are to women like us Jack,” she informed.

“What do you mean, anomaly?”

“You are a son of Garth,” she stated, there was a titter of hushed voices, but Hilde raised her hand, “And as such, none of us need restrain ourselves, so to speak, very ,very, rare and now you have that sigil that hides you from our sight, talk about candy,” she chuckled throatily.

“That’s me, sweet through and through,” he said dourly.

“Now you must choose one of the women in this room,” she said, looking at the faces peering down on him.

“WHAT?!” he blurted.

Hilde brought her hands together and clapped, “No, I’m just messing with you, the circle has already decreed you community property.”

“Remember?” reminded Clarice, “Sharing,” she said, gorgeous smile on her face. Fuck she was cute.

He nodded and pointed a finger at a sexy brunette he was unfamiliar with, “Who are you?”

“Elizabeth,” she answered, smile on her pretty face.

He nodded, turning on the spot, the center of attention for the twelve women looking down upon him. “So how long is this slumber party supposed to last?” he asked.

Hilde checked her wrist watch, “Another twelve hours or so I would guess, we’ll know by then if Lily’s group was able to identify our involvement and develop a counter offensive,” she said.

Jack frowned. “Twelve hours?” he asked, again looking around at the assemblage and slowly shaking his head, “And I’m the only dude, in a room full of gigantic pussy with twelve fucking hours to kill,” the smile on his tiny face seemed disingenuous.

Defrosting Serah

Having remained silent throughout the entire discourse, Serah moved toward the table and removed something from her brassiere, before setting Jimmy the Pin down on the table.

Jack’s face brightened, “Jimmy” he said.

Being the object of scrutiny by so many huge women, the Pin hustled over close to Jack. “Jack.”

Leaning in close, “From what I heard about the ice queen over there, I’m surprised you’re still in one piece,” Jack said.

Serah pointed an index finger down at Jack, her face an inscrutable mask. “I would speak with this one, in private,” she said, looking to Hilde.

Jack got an uneasy feeling. Jimmy put his hand on his shoulder.

“She can be incredibly scary, but you need to talk with her,” Jimmy said, looking up at Serah.

“Seriously?”

Jimmy nodded.

Hilde looked at the faces of the women, a curious expression on her own face, “Of course,” she said.

Serah put her hand down near the table.

“Go,” urged Jimmy.

“You’re going to be alone with all these broads,” Jack said, taking a few steps in Serah’s direction.

Jimmy chuckled and shook his head.

Simone gave out a small cry, several of the women turned in her direction but her eyes were fixed on Serah.

The white haired woman received Jack and quit the room, retiring to Hilde’s office.

Setting him down upon the desk, “I know of no other way to say this, I believe you are brother to one I loved a long time ago.”

He nodded slowly, unsure of what to say or how to respond to her statement. It was evident in her disposition that this long lost brother was indeed someone very special to her. “What was his name?” Jack asked softly, his normally abrasive veneer gone.

“Tius Valerius,” she answered.

He nodded. “Sounds like a name from the movie Gladiator,” he commented.

She chuckled, “He was a roman centurion,” she said.

Jack nodded his head, “So I had a brother who was kicking some serious ass back in the day,” he said.

“He was a very skilled warrior,” she said. “Without peer.”

“It runs in the genes,” he said, breathing on his knuckles and pretending to dust them off on his chest.

She reached out and touched his face tenderly, her blue eyes welling with tears.

“What happened to my brother?” he asked.

“Lily ripped him in half, right in front of me,” she said, a tear spilling down the side of her cheek.

“He was tiny like me?”

She shook her head, then paused, “He was his normal size and so was I, which is still about the same difference between us now,” she explained.

“What a cunt,” he commented, making an angry face.

“I would have killed her if not for Hilde, Selene, Vanessa and Simone. I didn’t care. I became my mother’s daughter that day,” she said, voice soft.

“Who is your mother?”

She chuckled. “The Pale Queen, the Goddess of Death.”

“Jesus,” he mumbled, frowning, a little spot in the back of his mind wondering who gave the Goddess of Death a jump and made a kid?

She locked her eyes onto his, “I didn’t know his heritage then, didn’t know there could be another like him, until I saw you the other day here at Hilde’s,” she informed.

He nodded slowly. Why was she telling him these things and what did she expect from him in return? “Um,” he started, “I don’t know what to say,” he confessed.

A slow smile came over her face, “Say you’ll give me an opportunity to get to know you.”

“Okay,” he said, not entirely sure what that meant, “But you will need to understand, I’m not him, I’m me and though we may have the same father, we are different people,” he clarified.

She nodded, “Of course,” she replied.

“I would be more comfortable with this happening between us, you know, when I’m normal sized and all, but we can hang out and get to know each other,” he offered.

“Once we resolve the issue of the Soul Reaper,” she said, “Then we spend some time with one another.”

“Soul Reaper?”

“Like Hilde, there is one running loose right now,” she shared, “And we have to track her down before she wreaks too much havoc.”

He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the information she was sharing. Standing, she encircled her hand gently around him and brought him near her face, kissing the side of his face softly.

She returned with him to the room where the others were gathered. He smiled outwardly, but inwardly he was filled with a ton of uncertainty. So many things could go wrong and he could stuck in the middle of some serious shit between the children of gods. What about Clarice, or Clare? Was Serah looking for a boyfriend or some kind of commitment? Hilde was only joking when she said he had to pick one, but if he did, he was going to have a lot of pissed off girls, who had already demonstrated a propensity for consuming people who wronged them. Why did the gods have so many bloody girls? Where were their male contemporaries?

He chuckled softly to himself, either these girls killed them all or they were probably fucking hiding, smart bastards.

Cade

The whole sequence of events in the last few days flew in the face of conventional rationality. To say Cade was confused was an absolute understatement. He prided himself on able to sift through the bullshit and find logical answers to illogical questions. Understanding criminal behavior forced him to think outside the box, look at crimes from disparate points of view, but this shit, straight up twilight zone.

Getting dressed in a rumpled suit and tie, he laughed at the thought of the golden eyed Hilde dragging his carcass to his apartment. Visualizing her pulling him by the leg down the hall. Damn that woman was sexy. There was just something about her, something his cop intuition told him was dangerous, not that it made her any less desirable, just an intriguing mystery he wanted to unravel, maybe a couple of times. He sniggered to himself, who was he kidding? He hadn’t been laid in forever, and she could probably ride his ass into the ground.

Checking himself in the mirror, five o’clock shadow slightly bristly, he decided to forego a shave and left the apartment. Climbing into his unmarked police car, he pulled out of his parking spot and turned onto the street.

Information began to percolate in his head. The case of the missing lawyer was closed, conveniently so according Hilde. Little Train’s missing crew and Arvin blasting Jack’s girlfriend, also apparently all wrapped up. Not that it made any sense, but she had said everything was essentially resolved. Weird. There was still the missing cop from the hills but that was someone else in North Division’s headache. What did Hilde mean when she said she didn’t want to leave him in a state of limbo? Nagging fucking questions and stupid cop brain, too goddamn stubborn to just let it go. Letting out a sigh, he decided he needed more answers, specifically, more answers from Hilde.

Grabbing his cell phone, he called the office.

“Homicide desk, Rebecca speaking,” answered the administrative assistant, tone pleasant.

“Hey Beck, it’s me, I’m going to be coming in late this morning, I got a snitch I need to see,” he explained.

Leaning forward in the seat at her seat, she pulled the phone close to her face, whispering, “You might want to stay away awhile this morning,” she said, tone conspiratorial.

“What?” he asked, confused by her comment.

“There is a new assistant district attorney down here and she is definitely on the prowl for you,” she advised, glancing toward the captain’s office.

“Oh? New ADA? I didn’t know we had one, this girl got a name?” he asked, pulling off the road and into the drive thru at Donut World.

“Morgan or Morrigan Kane, or something like that, bitch is hell on wheels and she’s definitely got her panties bunched up. She wants you, asked specifically by name. Captain is getting his ass chewed on royally at the moment or so it looks through the glass,” she informed.

He frowned. Who the fuck was Morrigan Kane? Never heard of her. “What’s this girl look like?”

Rebecca chuckled softly, “Like every man’s fantasy, tall dark hair, weird purple eyes, almost lavender, got to be contacts, tits got to be bolt-ons they’re big and too perfect, narrow waist tight ass, stick included. Expensive suit, thirty, maybe,” she answered sourly. “She’s got a half dozen tongue on the floor here.”

Detecting an undercurrent of unspoken envy in Rebecca’s voice, Cade chuckled, “Sounds horrible,” he said, but still unable to visualize the woman in his mind’s eye.

“Why is she looking for you? Who did you piss off now?” she asked.

“Did she say anything about why she was there?” he inquired.

“Nope, just asked if you had clocked in yet. You still didn’t answer my question who’s toes did you step on?”

“Don’t know, stumble around long enough in the dark, bound to step on a whole lot of toes,” he chuckled. Pulling up beside the speaker for the drive thru, he said, “Just a minute,” and rolled down his car window.

“Welcome to Donut World. What can I get for you today?” asked a young sounding female voice through the speaker.

“Are you at Donut World? Get me a coffee,” said Rebecca.

“Coffee, black, that’ll be all, thanks,” he said.

“Anything else?” asked the voice.

“A fritter, get me an apple fritter,” instructed Rebecca.

Cade frowned at the phone, “And an apple fritter,” he added.

“Two ninety at the window please,” said the voice.

“Did you get my coffee?” Rebecca asked. “I didn’t hear you order my coffee.”

Pulling his car forward, he brought the phone back to his head. “Nah, I won’t be in for a while, it’ll be cold. I’ll grab you a fresh one before I come in,” he said.

Stopping by the window, he handed the young girl a five and took his coffee and Rebecca’s donut and seat the cup in the space in the console of the car.

“Have a nice day,” said the girl in a perfunctory tone, so practiced and routine it rolled out of her mouth second nature.

“Can you look this Kane broad up, see if we got anything on her?” he asked Rebecca, driving away from the shop.

“I’ll look, but she’s probably squeaky clean. I’ll check and see if she’s google proof too,” she offered.

“Roger that. You know you are a gem right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just like a bloody piece of coal under a lot of pressure right?” She chided.

He laughed, “Let me know,” he said.

“Wil do,” she answered disconnecting the call.

He smiled to himself. She truly was a gem, always coming through in the clutch for him. He would have been lost without her assistance.

Morrigan Kane? Why would an ADA come all the way down to the station? That in of itself didn’t make a ton of sense. Why would she be looking for him? He didn’t have any imminent cases pending, no perps in lockup? Frowning, he took a sip of coffee and turned the charcoal grey unmarked Crown Victoria toward Hildegard Helvet’s residence.

Pinned Jimmy

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, many sets of eyes, each pair belonging to an absolute bombshell looked down at Jimmy. He cleared his throat and studied his feet. He definitely felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny.  The only woman he recognized was the girl with Jack when he and Trevor brought the two of them in, Clarice that was her name.

“Well?” said the woman who said her name was Elizabeth.

“Well what?” he asked, looking up at her shyly.

“So Serah never keep her captures, like ever, yet she kept you, how come?” she asked. A couple of others nodded, also curious.

He shrugged.

“Anyone know what happened to Trevor?” he asked.

A woman resembling Clarice stepped forward, rubbing her hand over her stomach.

“Oh,” he said.

“So why did you survive?” asked Clare.

“I know,” said Simone, stepping forward. “Jack Dalton in no small way resembles Tius Valerius. That likeness touched her and she wanted to glean as much information about Jack as she could,” she said, nodding her pretty blond head.

“Oh goddess, you’re right!” agreed Selene. “I didn’t see it before, but he does look like Tius,” she commented.

“Who is Tius Valerius?” asked Clarice, frowning.

Simone and Selene exchanged glances, before the blonde spoke, “It was long before your time Clare, we were still studying at the villa, Serah was very young. The remnants of a roman legion passed through the mountains into the valley. Serah captured their ranking officer, a centurion named Tius Valerius. From what I’ve seen of this Jack, they were not only similar in appearance but apparently disposition as well,” she chuckled.

Clarice looked over at the helmet and sword in the case against the wall before turning to Hilde, “His?”

Hilde smiled and shook her head, “No, those belonged to another of those roman soldiers, Agrippa. He was,” she paused, “Special.”

Clarice pouted, “Seems we missed out on a bunch of stuff,” she said.

“Like the Dark Ages, the Black Death, the Inquisition, not to mention crappy food and a definitive lack of anything resembling personal hygiene,” Vanessa said, chuckling.

Clarice nodded slowly. “So what is Serah going to do with Jack?” she asked.

Simone shrugged. “I know what I would do with him,” she said, grinning deviously.

Clarice scowled.

“So what do we do with human toothpick?” asked Angela, pointing at Jimmy.

Hilde moved forward, “Serah hasn’t expressed ownership over him, he’s pretty much fair game,” she said.

“Whoa just a minute,” he said, bringing up his hands, eyes wide. He suddenly felt very much his tiny size. At first being amidst all these dimes, it was like being a fly on the wall of the Playboy mansion, but now, fair game could mean a lot of different things and he had seen the white haired woman consume people with no hesitation. The one broad all but said that Trevor was in her belly, no way in the world did he want to check out that way.

Angela frowned and shook her head. “Too frail,” she commented.

“Agreed,” said Clare, nodding. “No way he would hold up to such rigorous use, especially after having been with Jack,” she commented.

“Jack that good?” asked Elizabeth, turning to Clare.

Clare grinned knowingly, mind darting back to some of the more memorable moments of her time with him. A touch a crimson staining her cheeks.

“Really,” said Simone, eyebrows raised, interest in the man growing.

“He’s a little rough around the edges, sort of an acquired taste,” defended Clarice, not happy with the discussion returning to Jack. “Let’s focus on the twig here,” she added, stabbing a finger in jimmy’s direction.

Selene shook her head, “While I haven’t been able to sample him yet, the dark goddess did leave him in my care,” she reminded.

“For now,” said Simone. Clare chuckled.

Clarice glowered. Simone was the daughter of the goddess of love and Clarice suspected her innate abilities might forever bend Jack to her will. Though, on the other hand, Jack was Jack and seemed quite resilient in his own right. Still, she wasn’t happy.

“I’ll take our little friend here,” volunteered Vanessa, red hair swept back over her shoulders.

Jimmy looked up as she approached. Like the other women in the room, she was absolutely gorgeous, her light green eyes gleaming.

“Anyone else?” asked Hilde.

Vanessa turned, lower lip between her teeth, “Anybody want to share?”

“Hold on a goddam minute, doesn’t the twig have any say in what’s going on here?” he protested, growing more and more alarmed.

The red head turned back and looked down on him. “Hush now,” she encouraged, holding up an index finger to silence him.

“No, I don’t think Serah would like it if any of you ate me,” he warned, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point that none of them would want to upset the white haired woman.

“Who said anything about eating you?” Vanessa chuckled, sly smile on the side of her full mouth as she gazed down upon him. Several others also tittered.

He frowned, puzzled and unsure. “What do you mean?” he asked, not comprehending.

Still smiling, Vanessa looked at Hilde, “Is it okay if I use the room upstairs?” she inquired.

The blonde owner of the house nodded. “By all means, but remember the regular rules apply,” she reminded.

Vanessa grinned, crouching down, bringing her face level with the table, she said “Good.”

“What does that mean?” Jimmy asked again, searching the faces of the other women surrounding him for an answer but receiving none. Looking back to Vanessa, “What the fuck does that mean?” he repeated, voice climbing in pitch.

Reaching over, Vanessa curled her fingers around the frightened little man, bright red nails immaculate as she stood up and lifted him off the table. Those around the table parted, allow her to leave.

Panic seized Jimmy but he was completely powerless to do anything, even move.

“Have fun,” one of the women he didn’t know said to him as the gigantic red haired woman carried him away.

Cade

The policeman had almost arrived at his Hilde’s house when his cell phone sounded.  Picking it up off the car’s console, he glanced at the screen, Rebecca calling.

Connecting, “What you got for me doll?” he said, signaling and changing lanes.

She snorted, “Doll? Hardly,” she challenged. “Are you talking on your cell and driving?”

“And drinking a coffee, but that’s beside the point, what were you able to ferret out about our new lady ADA?” he inquired.

“Well I ran our mystery girl through the database and nothing, the skinny bitch doesn’t exist in the system, nothing on Google, Facebook, or any other social media, as far as anyone can tell she’s a ghost,” Rebecca said, a hint in her voice betraying the fact she just wasn’t anybody.

“Keep your claws,” he joked, “Now you said as far as anyone can tell?” he asked, knowing she was about to make a reveal.

“Anyone not me,” she chuckled, “I made a couple of calls and our girl is not actually an ADA, instead, she’s vaguely attached to the DA’s office by authority of the DA for some special prosecution, what it is I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” he said, processing.

 “Name John Bender mean anything to you?” she queried.

 “John Bender, fuck,” Cade growled, letting out a long and unhappy sigh and shaking his head.

“That good?” asked Rebecca chuckling.

“Wells Fargo heist, Bender is the one that got away,” he replied wistfully, “My white whale.” He shook his head. First Jack Dalton storms back into his life, now Bender. Two goddamn peas from the same pod.

“Oh,” she said slowly.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged, “Why do you ask?”

“A name I overhead, didn’t realize he was connected to Wells Fargo is all,” she answered.

“Hmm, strange at this point in the game, years later, cold case file now,” he mumbled, trying to link the dots, but not seeing the connection.

“You had your fingerprints all over that case, that’s probably why she wants to see you,” Rebecca suggested.

“Why not use the phone? Or just send a share file request, plus she should have access to all the trial information,” he presumed.

“Hmm,” Rebecca said. “Odd,” she commented.

“She still there with the captain?” Cade asked.

“No, left maybe five minutes ago,” answered the administrative assistant. “Maybe they nabbed Bender and are prepping him for trial, special prosecution wants your input?” she offered.

Cade shook his head, “Call LA county and see if they’re holding Bender, though I’m sure we would have heard about, practically guarantee we would have been notified,” he replied.

“The only other guy connected to that case that is still breathing, what was his name, Dalton something, like Doolin-Dalton?” she asked.

Cade chuckled, “You’re making me feel old Beck, Doolin-Dalton is an Eagles song from the seventies. Guy’s name is Jack Dalton.” Coincidence?  Him and Jack cross paths, shit goes down and now the lawyer broad shows up sniffing around a cold case? His cop voice didn’t like it. Fucking female lawyers, he groused in his head. First Helvet, now Kane.

“That’s right,” laughed Rebecca. “Anyway, that’s all I could find out, but I’ll check with county and DOC, see if there’s anything else,” she finished.

Cade frowned, “Wonder why I haven’t got a call from the captain yet about this shit,” he wondered aloud.

“Don’t know,” she replied. “You see your CI yet?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m still en route. I’ll be back in the office in maybe an hour, hour and half,” he said.

“Don’t forget me coffee,” she warned.

He laughed, “I got you covered,” he said. They exchanged goodbyes and ended the call.

He was of half a mind to turn the car around and head directly to the DA’s office, get to the bottom of whatever it was this broad wanted. Why the hell would the DA bring in a ‘special’ prosecutor? He hadn’t heard of anything like that since the OJ trial and that was mid-trial and national news. Goddamn Wells Fargo. Fuck John Bender, fuck Jack Dalton and fuck Morrigan Kane.

If he wasn’t so close to Hilde’s beach house, he would have turned the car around. Driving along the PCH, he slowed his car as he neared her house. There appeared to be an inordinate number of very high end fancy cars parked near her house. Grumbling, he drove on, the first available parking spot he found was nearly a half mile distant. Pulling the car over, he crabbed a little bit and shut it off.

Crossing the road, he began backtracking to the woman’s house. He wondered why he had felt the impulse to come to her residence and not go to her office. Strange.

Jimmy and Vanessa

Setting Jimmy down of the bed, Vanessa began to disrobe. Jimmy watched in silence, appreciative of the view, but very wary. Soon this amazingly well constructed redhead was standing in her bra and panties, big smile on her face.

He frowned.

“So, what did you and Serah get up to?” she asked, reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

“She just wanted to know everything I knew about Jack,” he replied.

She cocked her head, “You didn’t get better acquainted?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“No,” he frowned, “I was just trying not to get killed or eaten. She can be very intense,” he explained.

Tucking thumbs into the elastic waistband of her fancy black panties, she wiggled them down and stepped out of them, tossing them on the bed near Jimmy.

He looked at the discard undergarment and then up at Vanessa.

“Well what do you think?” she asked coquettishly, holding her hands apart.

He swallowed hard. Aside from the fact she towered over him, she was absolutely stunning. She was definitely not the kind of woman who would ever pause and give him a second look. Jack sure, dames got all slippery and wet around him, but Jimmy, never. He would have been intimidated even if she wasn’t as big as a building.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked.

He cleared his throat, “We both know you’re hot as hell, you don’t need me to pump your ego,” he said.

Reaching down, she opened her hand to him and nodded for him to get into her palm. Lifting him up, she curled her fingers around him as she climbed onto the bed. Getting settled, back propped up against pillows and the headboard, she set him down on her breastbone. He dropped to a knee and steadied himself against the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“I find it incredibly curious Serah let you live,” she commented.

“I think it was my undeniable wit and charm,” he offered, running his free hand over his head.

She smiled.

“So what now?” he asked.

She licked her lower lip, “Well, now we play,” she said.

He chuckled and nodded his head before looking down on his nakedness. Looking up, he smiled, “I guess we should let you take the lead in this dance,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” she assured, “I am going to rock your little world.”

“Rock on,” he encouraged.

Licking the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, she captured the nipple of her left breast and tweaked it, causing the flesh to tighten. Repeating the process with her right hand and other breast, she nudged him up the swell of her left breast. Wrapping his legs around the erect nipple, he took the hardened flesh in his hands, kneading and squeezing it while licking and kissing it.

She massaged her generous breasts while Jimmy remained perched, desperately trying not to be dislodged while he continued to try and please her. When she was ready, he plucked him off her breast and set him down between her legs, letting him her get a good look at her sleek vagina.

“It’s a little intimidating,” he mumbled, looking at the swollen hungry maw in front of him, her inner lips dewy and parted, like some kind of smooth pink Venus Mantrap waiting for unsuspecting prey. Being this close, he could smell her scent, alluring and arousing him.

“It’s okay,” she reassured, “She likes you.”  Reaching down, she put a finger behind his back and pulled him toward her heated sex.

She knew what she liked and he allowed himself to be used, surrendering to her as she teased and excited herself, using him expertly. As she felt the tide of release rising, she pushed him all the way inside her, wanting him to experience her when she came. Her orgasm was intense, the delicate inner folds of her vagina contracted around as the area was drowned in the juices of her climax. He seriously began to think he was going to either be crushed to death by her powerful contractions or drowned in the sea of milky fluid she was secreting. After what seemed an eternity within the confines of her pussy, listening to the sounds of her body, he felt her fishing for him, capturing a foot and slowly pulling him to freedom. When she was finished, he lay on her stomach near her navel, panting and breathless, slick and shiny in her viscous juices.

“Mmm, that was nice,” she commented, glow of post coitus on her pale cheeks.

He chuckled, “I was concerned at first you weren’t going to be able to keep up, but you did alright,” he commented.

She laughed, her tummy shaking with mirth.

“I hope I was too big for you,” he joked. Despite his convivial demeanor, the ordeal had been very physically draining and demanding. He took the opportunity to relax a moment, amazed by the experience and the joy of having been with such a beautiful girl, though the unconventionality of their fun together terrifying and exhilarating him at the same time.

Reaching down, she took him by his right foot and lifted him over her face, parting her lips and opening her mouth and lowering him in.

His eyes widened unsure of her intent. Was this the end?

Still holding onto his foot, she swirled her tongue around him, cleaning him, before drawing him back through her full lips like a lollipop.

Setting him on her chest, she released her hold on his foot and smiled.

“I guess we’ll rejoin the others, see who’s next,” she said, though not bothering to move.

“Next?” he asked, incapable of masking the panic in his voice.

She laughed. “When I tell the others what a magnificent stallion you were, there’s probably going to be a line up wanting to give you a try,” she extrapolated.

He was exhausted and hoped to Christ she was just funning with him because he wasn’t sure he could survive another round. He chuckled nervously and she laughed openly.

“We should rejoin the others,” she said, removing him from her belly and setting him on the bed. Getting up, she got dressed and took him to the washroom, cleaning him under the faucet in the bright white sink.

When they returned downstairs, Jack and Serah had returned.

The white haired woman looked at Jimmy then at Vanessa, face impassive.

Eyes lingering on Jack, Vanessa set Jimmy down on the table.

Jack laughed, looking at jimmy as the smaller slender man wobbled unsteadily on his feet.

“She had trouble keeping up,” Jimmy explained, giving Jack an eye roll and jerking a thumb back in Vanessa’s direction.

“Dude, careful,” cautioned Jack, knowing full well the dangers of false bravado.

The doorbell rang.

Morrigan Kane

Morrigan stood hands on curvaceous hips as she looked out the window of her climate controlled office, a pensive expression on her beautiful face.

A tapping at her door caught her attention. Turning her head, dark hair pulled back and brushing over her shoulder she looked toward the door.

Gil Hodge, district attorney stood there, an expectant expression on his face. Almost fifty, he expended a great deal of effort trying to maintain his good looks. The rigors of public life in a city built on celebrity seemed more important than the actual position he held.

She turned back to the window, crossing her arms under her substantial and near perfectly shaped breasts.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” he asked, walking into the office.

“Not yet,” she replied, voice dulcet and just raspy enough to enflame adolescent fantasy.

“I could,” he started.

“No,” she interrupted peremptorily, “You will do nothing,” she commanded.

“But,” he pleaded, eager to please her, eager to gain her approval.

Though he could not see, she frowned, kissable lips pulled down at the corners. He irritated her. She would love nothing more than to diminish him and devour him, break him down.

“But what?” she asked, turning to look at him, unusual lavender eyes capturing his and holding them mercilessly, “What is it you wish to say?” she queried, tone bordering on demanding.

He smiled, “I was just going to say that maybe there’s something I or my office can do to assist you,” he suggested. He reminded her of an obsequious hound dog annoyingly licking at your hand and begging for attention.

She smiled, an empty expression devoid of any emotion other than masked irritation, “Thank you, you can leave now,” she replied, looking passed him at the door then back to him.

He grinned, a foolish expression on his mature face, more appropriate to a teenage boy who was in the presence of a girl way beyond his league. Nodding, he backed toward the door.

Turning back to the window, she said, “Close the door behind you, I do not wish to be disturbed.” Crossing her arm once more, she looked out over the city. Pieces were moving and she was playing catch up. A smile touched her lips as she nodded, “I know you’re out there, and I will find you,” she stated.

Cade

Standing on the doorstep outside Hilde’s house, he checked himself, straightening his shirt and running a hand over his hair before pushing the doorbell beside the screen door.

A gorgeous woman with long dark hair nearly as tall as him answered the door, luscious smile on her incredibly pretty face, “Yes? She asked.

He paused, momentarily taken aback, breath stuck in his throat as he looked into her violet colored eyes.

Her smile widened as she raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“In the club, that’s where I saw you, that night,” he said, recognizing her and pointing an index finger at her.

She nodded and chuckled, a pleasant sound that made him feel like he was sixteen years old again. “You are the policeman,” she said.

He nodded, feeling awkward and goofy.

“Selene is my name,” she said, introducing herself.

He cleared his throat, “Detective McKissik, Cade,” he replied with a broad grin.

“Is there something I can help you with detective?” she asked, holding her lower lip between her teeth and looking at him through long lashes.

“Uh, Hilde, Miss Helvet,” he babbled.

Opening the door wider, she stepped back, “Why don’t you come in a moment and I’ll see if she will see you,” she offered.

Nodding, he stepped through the portal into the entry way, a strange tingling sensation passing through him, like someone walking over your grave. Selene stood there a moment, watching him, then smiled before leaving. He shook his head and chuckled, she was a stunner. HE could hear voices from elsewhere in the house.

Hildegarde appeared, dressed in her professional get up, shaking her head slowly. “Hello Cade,” she welcomed.

“Hilde,” he replied.

“Why have you come to my home?” she inquired, smile playing on her lips, gold eyes holding a glimmer of mischief.

“I didn’t realize you were entertaining,” he apologized.

She smiled, “You haven’t answered my question,” she said.

He frowned pensively, “Just too many things that don’t make a hell of a lot of sense going on in and around me. I don’t much care for it and somehow, my cop instinct tells me you are at the heart of it,” he asserted.

She chuckled. “Okay, what is it you would like to know? She asked.

“The dead lawyer in Mexico, you told me you knew it was bullshit, what happened to him?” he asked directly.

“Hunted down and eaten,” she replied.

“Fuck off, I was being serious,” he said sourly.

She laughed, “So was I,” she said humorously.

“Eaten?” he asked, incredulous.

She shook her head side to side, “Consumed would probably be a more appropriate description,” she explained, thinking about it.

He glowered and shook his head. “Why were you in my apartment?”

“I told you, I brought you home,” she answered.

“Yeah, yeah, lugged me up the stairs all by yourself, I know, we had this conversation already,” he said, waving a dismissive hand.

“I was there to help you understand what had happened in the Grindhouse,” she said.

“Yeah, you really cleared that up for me. I want some bloody answers,” he demanded.

A slow smile appeared on her face. “This is not an opportune time for me,” she stated.

“I don’t give a damn, I’m tired of getting the run around,” he said.

“Be careful, sometimes wanting and getting are two completely different matters,” she cautioned capriciously.

He huffed, “And this cryptic ‘I know something you don’t’ attitude of yours is a supreme test of my patience, I swear to Christ,” he said.

She shook her head slowly, eyes lingering on his, “Cade, Cade, Cade,” she muttered.

He frowned, “Hilde, Hilde, Hilde,” he replied.

“You want answers?” she asked, smile spreading.

“What am I, Tom Cruise from A Few Good Men? I want the goddamn truth,” he said.

She grinned. Reaching out a hand, she lightly tapped him on the forehead with her index finger. He didn’t have time to scowl before he was asleep.

Jack

Standing on the table, hands on hips, “Where’s Jimmy?” Jack asked, tone accusatorial, eyes narrowed as he looked from woman to woman. “If one of you has sucked him down your gullet,” he left the rest unsaid, his expression fearsome, losing its impact because he was no bigger than the smallest finger on anyone of their hands.

Clarice giggled and shook her head. Several others grinned.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” offered Selene, vanishing down the hall.

“So?” he demanded.

“Relax, he’s upstairs with Vanessa,” informed Hilde.

Selene returned, “It’s the policeman, asking for you,” she relayed to Hilde.

Hilde nodded and excused herself.

Selene looked down to Jack, tiny arms now crossed over his chest, dour look on his scruffy face.

“You know,” Selene started, “We never really did a chance to get to spend some quality time together,” she purred.

He frowned, “Quality time?” he snorted. “You took me to that club full of man-eating chicks, trotted me around like a little prize pony!” he asserted.

She grinned and nodded, “Uh huh.”

“Jessa is a bitch, no two ways about it, and your sister the arm breaker, flat out cunt!” he growled.

Several of the women tittered as he continued his tirade.

Selene shook her head, beaming grin on her exceptionally pretty face, “Come on you,” she started, curling her hand around him and picking him up, “If you’ve got that much energy, let’s put it to more constructive use,” she finished.

Hilde returned, sly smile on her face, watching as Selene departed the room. Several others sets of eyes also watched the leggy brunette as she left, Serah’s and Clarice’s included.

Carrying him upstairs, “Lucky for you I didn’t my hands on you during the hunt,” she chuckled.

He scoffed, “Lucky for you,” he replied.

She laughed, “We shall see in a bit won’t we little one,” she said.

He shook his head, “I’m still a little pissed at you for using me like bait,” he griped.

“Pfft, get over it,” she said, opening her mouth and unceremoniously plopping him inside.

Startled, Jack tried to twist and turn to gain some sense of his bearings, but Selene moved him around the inside of her mouth easily with her dexterous tongue.

Moving down the hall, Jack still in her mouth, Selene selected a room. As she began to disrobe, she hummed to herself. Naked, she climbed onto the bed and removed a now very sodden Jack and held him in the palm of her left hand.

“What the fuck?” he sputtered, mopping saliva from his face.

Bringing her hand down over her left breast, she pressed him against her nipple, moving him about, generating friction and stimulating her. Despite his situation, he was still muttering and she had to smile as she felt herself beginning to warm to the idea of some love play.

She used him, gently to fuel the heat of her desire, before bringing him down to her most sensitive of areas.

Her scent was subtle, teasing him, maddening him. Setting him betwixt her thighs, she grinned down at him.

Stepping forward, he placed his hands on the delicate flesh of her outer lips, “You want me to check the oil or something while I’m down here?” he said, looking up at her with a crooked grin on his face.

She chuckled, reaching down, she took his arms between her thumb and forefinger, pinning them behind his back and pulling him forward against her waiting sex. Opening herself with her other hand, “I think I might be a Jack low,” she said, pushing him entirely inside of her head first and driving him as deep as she possibly could. Bringing her knees together, she closed the gate and began knead and caress her breasts while the tiny man inside of her was trapped.

No stranger to the internal physiology of his environment, Jack positioned himself so as to maximize his ability to do his thing. The heat was like a sauna, moist. Her secretions slippery and decidedly sweet. Smirking to himself, he found what he was looking for and began to play in earnest with her G spot. Soft and spongy, it stiffened under his ministrations, the sound of her heartbeat quickened. He knew to be wary of her cervix when she was close to coming. He didn’t know how he was able to breathe, inhaling her essence with every intake.

She couldn’t help herself, thrashing and bucking against the skillful manipulations of the tiny man held hostage inside her. He knew exactly what he was doing and within a very small amount of time, she was dancing along the edge of a tremendous climax. He teased her, doing just enough to keep her poised on the verge of ecstasy.

She giggled and shook her head, rolling her hips from side to side to encourage him to push her passed the point of no return. After what felt like an eternity, he finally did. Selene cried out, body quaking and spasming, but now he didn’t stop, he kept at her exposed nerves, relentlessly forcing her to come again and again.

Finally he stopped, she lay there panting, body slick with perspiration. She ran her fingers through her tussled hair, shaking her head.

Moving to the edge of the bed, she look at the bedspread. Soaked in her juice. Parting her knees, she pushed her pelvis forward and spread open her vagina, trying to find Jack. Feeling an appendage, she carefully pulled him free. Unconscious, he lay limp in her hand.

Completely satisfied, she grinned and kissed his face.

Cade

Cade woke up in the driver’s seat of his car, a thin trail of drool seeping out of the right side of his mouth down over his stubbly chin. Blinking a couple of times, he suddenly realized he was in his car and gripped the steering wheel hard before slamming his right foot down on the brake, nearly spraining his ankle on the unyielding pedal.

It took him another split second to realize his car was actually turned off and was parked in the lot behind the Santa Monica police station, of which, he did not belong. Bringing his hands to his face, he rubbed it before pausing. Lowering his hands, he looked around and shook his head, ire rising. “Are you fucking kidding me!” he yelled, slamming his fists down against the top of the steering wheel of the Ford, noticing the small bright pink square sticky note in his lap he had dislodged from the steering wheel when he awoke.

Penned in a flowing cursive script, the little piece of paper read:

‘Apologies Cade, as I said, now is inopportune. I promise all will be revealed soon. Trust I am as eager to share as you are to learn, I’ll be in touch, H.’

He leaned back against his seat, head on the rest, eyes looking to the ceiling of the car, “FUCK!” he cursed loudly. Shaking his head, he was mad. Climbing out of the car, he slammed the door shut and stomped across lot toward the police station, muttering to himself, “All she did was touch me on my bloody head and poof I wake up here? I should just shoot her, nothing lethal, maybe in the leg, maybe that would solve all my trouble for crying out loud.”

Entering the police station, he walked up to the front desk, face a mask of unhappy.

“Can I help you?” asked the male desk sergeant, a man in his older years.

“You got the lot out back under surveillance?” he snarled, pointing a hand back in the direction he had just come.

The desk sergeant shook his head, puzzled expression on his aged face. “No,” he said.

“Goddamn it!” growled Cade, turning, teeth clenched.

“Sir?” asked the cop behind the desk.

Reaching into his suit jacket, Cade pulled out his badge and flashed it at the man before walking out of the building the way he had entered. Checking his watch, “Two fucking hours?” he nattered. “I been out two bloody hours?”

What the hell had she meant the lawyer had been hunted down and eaten, consumed, same difference? Every time he saw, her, it was just more questions, more mysterious bullshit. Hunted down and eaten? By what? Did the mouthpiece run afoul of one of his clients and get fed to a crime boss with a gator or lion something? How the hell would she know? Aargh, more goddamn questions!

Getting back in the car, he fastened the safety belt, the phone in his jacket vibrated. Pulling out his cell phone, two missed calls, both Rebecca. Touching the phone icons, he brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey Cade,” she said.

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” he paused, “I was indisposed, meeting with my snitch took a lot longer than I thought,” he finished curtly.

“No problem. Just a follow up on my call to DOC, they’ve got nothing on Bender,” she provided, “Same from County and central escort, nada. As far as anyone can tell me, he’s not in the system.”

“It was a bit of a longshot,” he replied, disappointed.

“You ok?” she asked.

He chuckled, “That obvious? Been one of those days Beck, one step forward five steps back.”

She laughed sympathetically, “Copy that, I mean, here I sit, no donut, no coffee, pining away,” she said.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he replied, though in his agitated state he actually had. “You get a number off that Kane broad?”

“I think she left her contact info with the Captain,” she answered. “I’ll go check, give you a call right back.”

“Thanks,” he replied disconnecting the call.

Setting the phone on the passenger seat, he fished a roll of antacid tablets out of his pocket and popped two in his mouth, chewing, mint flavors muted and chalky.

His phone buzzed, picking it up he answered. Rebecca gave him the number for the new specially appointed ADA. Searching frantically for a pen and finding one on floor between his seat and the console, he got her to repeat the number and wrote it on his hand. With a ‘got it’, he let Rebecca go.

He sat there mulling for a moment, should he just call the bitch up and give her a piece of his mind, or should he actually go down to the DA’s office and let her have it both barrels. It was shaping up to be one of those shitty kind of days when rubbing someone else’s nose it felt kind of good. Starting the car, he put it in gear, a half smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.

Morrigan

Seated at her desk, there was a rapping at the door. Looking up, not masking the annoyance she felt, Morrigan said, “Yes?”

“There is a Detective McKissik to see you,” said the young male assistant, hovering near the door.

A smile appearing on her face, “Bring him in directly,” instructed Morrigan, rising from her seat and smoothing the fabric of her skirt.

Escorted by the assistant, the policeman appeared disheveled, hair messy, unshaven, a surly expression on his face. Closing the door behind him, the assistant vanished.

“Detective McKissik,” she said, stepping around her desk and extending her hand to him.

“Call me Cade,” he said, nodding and extending his own hand, “Miss Kane,” he introduced, tone sharp.

“I appreciate you taking the time out of what I am sure is your busy day to come down here and talk to me,” she said taking his hand, tone polite. The moment they touched hands, a quizzical look seemed to cross her face. She looked down at his hand, then back to his face. Releasing his hand, she took a couple of steps backward, her strange purple eyes narrowed, as if trying to peer into his soul.

“Cut the shit, why were you down at my office earlier today?” he asked, face dark.

She nodded slowly. “Direct? Alright,” she replied leaning forward, “Tell me about Wells Fargo,” she said, pointing to a chair in front of her desk.

He snorted, “It’s all in my files,” he said gruffly, flopping into the chair.

“Now, why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what really happened?” she snapped back, eyes still locked on him and boring into him.

“What?” he asked spreading apart his hands and shrugging.

“Don’t give me what,” she barked, “Just answer the question.”

“Why are you looking at this now, hey? That bungled job happened years ago,” Cade retorted, peeved by her haughty demeanor.

She nodded, “That much I was able to ascertain from your files,” she chided, “What’s not in them is the results of a two day interrogation of one Jack Dalton other than he was uncooperative.”

Jack? “That’s right, sonofabitch kept his mouth shut,” he answered.

“You worked him over for two straight days and he didn’t give you anything? That’s pretty hard to believe,” she said.

“You don’t know the Hammer,” he replied, grudgingly respect in his tone.

Mouth pursed, she nodded, “But you do, your reputation says you interrogation methods are heavy handed,” she accused.

“What the hell are you implying?” he challenged, leaning forward in his chair.

“I don’t know. What does it sound like I’m implying?” she countered, eyes fierce.

He made a rude noise and waved a dismissive hand. “I followed procedure,” he defended.

“The how the hell did Bender get away with the bearer bonds? Who was the fence? Your report doesn’t answer these questions,” she asserted.

He shook his head, “You want to know what fucking happened, here it is,” he stated.

The Wells Fargo Job

“Originally there was a six man crew, one of the best, made up of Bender, Dalton, Darrow, Haynes, Logan and Watson,” Cade started.

“Give some context, who’s who,” she stated, leaning her butt against the desk and folding her arms under her ample bosom.

Cade sighed, “Fuck. Okay consensus said this crew was a three headed monster with John Bender, Jack Dalton and Sam Haynes jointly calling the shots.”

“Haynes the ex-military guy?” she asked, seeking clarification.

Cade nodded. “Right, dishonorably discharged after significantly fucking up the CO who wiped out his squad in a friendly fire incident in Kabul, anyway, let me get back on track.”

“Go on,” she encouraged, extending a hand prompting him to continue.

“Armored car was transporting forty million in bearer bounds, how this crew got their hands on the manifest suggested inside collusion. Last minute Logan backs out

“That’s James Logan, called Jimmy the Pin?”

“Do you want me to tell, or you going to keep interrupting me? Fuck, where was I? Oh yeah, Logan backs out and they bring a new guy in, Redland, guy has bounced in and out of jail, standup guy, or so the crew thought, till he gets busted with kiddie porn, anyway, guy sings like a bird, gives up the score in the hopes of cutting a deal and keeping his sick habit hush hush.

“So you basically knew the whole plan, and still Dalton and Bender got away?”

“And Redland turns up with a bullet hole in his forehead, don’t know which of them got to him, but we got a tip and took Dalton down. Yeah I questioned him and yeah it maybe wasn’t quite by the regs, but Jack is as tough as they come. I put a gun in his mouth and all he did was laugh in my face

“Why didn’t you question the other survivor, Haynes?”

“He took two bullets and was in an induced coma for almost three weeks, besides being ex-special forces I knew he would definitely be trained in anti-interrogation techniques and time was of the essence,” he justified.

The crew went in, minus Redland, five guys, we blew it up. Darrow and Watson were killed, Haynes was shot, got Dalton eighteen hours later but with an unusable statement tying him to the crime. We questioned Logan who pleaded ignorance and had an airtight alibi,” he explained.

“And Bender got away with the bonds?” she asked.

He nodded slowly, “Like I said, it’s all in the report,” he said pointing to the folder on the desk.

She put her hands down by her side, resting them on the edge of the desk.

“Why the interest in Bender, he’s a ghost?”

She smiled, “Who has resurfaced,” she supplied.

He frowned, “Why are you handling it then, shouldn’t law enforcement be trying to bring him in?” he asked.

“My motivations are my own,” she replied.

Standing up, Cade spread his hands, “We done?”

“Not quite, do you know the current whereabouts of Dalton or Haynes?” she asked.

He shrugged, “Can’t say, I think Haynes has been out for a year or so now,” he answered.

“By authority of this office, find one of them for me,” she instructed.

He shook his head, “Up to my captain how I spend my day,” he retorted as he moved toward the door.

She smiled, a condescending expression on her too pretty face, “Then you find you are currently assigned to do my bidding, now be a good little boy and run along,” she instructed.

Cade glowered at her, “Next time you want something, don’t waste my goddamn time and use the bloody phone,” he cracked before slipping out the door.

She watched him go, smile never leaving her face. Hildegarde’s magic was all over him, subtle, yet distinct. The question was what value did this broken down excuse of a policeman have to the Dark Goddess’s henchwoman? She aimed to find out.

Cade

He was livid. What an arrogant cunt. Storm cloud on his face, he left the DA’s office. Tell me about the Wells Fargo job? Fuck. He had received a citation for meritorious conduct and who was she to start digging into old wounds? Fuck her.

Back in his car, he pulled out his phone and called Rebecca.

“Captain wants you to come in,” she said before he even had a chance to say anything.

“Yeah,” he growled, “I just met with that Morrigan bitch, you pegged her right,” he conceded.

Rebecca chuckled, “Told you,” she added, twisting the knife just a little.

“Yeah, yeah. I need you to get me an address on Jack Dalton, ASAP,” he requested.

“Okay, give me a minute,” she said. A few minutes later she was back on the phone, “Got it,” she said, relaying the information.

“Tell the captain I’ll be in later, checking on a lead for what’s her face,” he asked.

“Roger wilco,” she replied smartly.

“Smart ass,” he grumbled.

“I suppose it’s better than being a dumb ass,” she retorted. “And don’t forget about my coffee.”

He disconnected the call and started the car, deciding he would drop in on the Hammer and have an informal chat.

Jack lived in a fairly rough part of town, a notch above seedy. The bright yellow corvette parked on the street in front of Jack’s stood out like a sore thumb. He ran the plate through his computer. Clarice Heller, eighteen years old, just turned. The girl who had been shot. Cade shook his head disdainfully.

Climbing out of the unmarked police car, he ascended the steps to Jack’s apartment. Testing the door knob, he found it surprisingly unlocked. Removing his pistol from his shoulder holster, he turned the handle and edged the door open quietly.

Peeking in, he cleared the corners and entered the room, both hands now on the pistol. “You home Jack?” he asked, voice loud. Place looked like a flop house or been tossed over some.

There was a sound from the other room.

“Jack?” Cade called again, moving across the room cautiously. Silence greeted him, even the other room was quiet.

Leaning against the wall next to the door to what Cade supposed was the bedroom, he peeked around quickly, trying to glimpse if there was anyone in the room.

Bringing his pistol in front of himself, he took a slow steady breath, before sweeping into the room, weapon at the ready. It was empty, the windows open, curtains drawn out, as if someone had hastily departed threw the opening.

Looking out the window, he saw no one. Grumbling, he holstered the Baretta. Was that Jack? Hadn’t seen him since his little girlfriend took one from Little Train. Why run? If it wasn’t Jack, who then? Bender? The girl? He frowned. Looking around the bedroom, he decided he would give a once over, see if maybe he might find what the intruder might have been looking for. After a half hour, he had found the hidden floor space, but it was empty, and nothing else of any particular interest. Sitting on the bed, he shook his head. What were you looking for when I disturbed you? “Dammit,” he muttered, getting up and walking to the door. Strolling back into the other room, he paused to look at the bottle of whiskey on the table. Temptation tugged at him. Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain, he chuckled and shook his head. He felt like he was already a half dozen steps behind whatever the fuck was going on and knew a slug of booze certainly wouldn’t help him close the gap. Turning, he shambled out of the apartment. The yellow stingray hadn’t moved. Not the girl, he concluded. Descending the stairs, he contemplated going back to Hilde’s but decided instead to go into the office.

Forty five minutes later, he strolled into the office, flashing Rebecca a smile and putting her coffee and apple fritter on her desk.

“Ta da,” he said.

“I’m impressed,” she complimented sarcastically, “Usually you forget.”

He smiled and tapped a finger against the side of his head, “Mind like a steel trap, nothing gets in,” he joshed, giving her a wink.

“Captain’s waiting for you,” she replied, reciprocating his smile and pointing in the direction of his office.

“Swell,” he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes before heading for the boss’s office, transforming his face into an angry mask by the time he reached the doorway.

“About bloody time,” groused the captain, looking up when Cade appeared in the door.

Stepping in, Cade closed the door behind him, “What’s this horseshit about me being assigned to be Kane’s fucking little go boy, eh? Her lackey?” he challenged, voice raised.

The captain shook his head, eyes weary, “Cade listen,” he started, trying to explain.

“Save it, I already spoke to the condescending bitch not an hour ago,” he growled back.

“Came from the Chief himself, his lips to my eyes,” resigned the captain, looking down and absently shuffling the papers on his desk in no particular order.

“What about my ongoing investigations?” Cade protested vehemently, “I got real work to do instead of fucking around with a cold case.”

“All been reassigned, from this moment onward, you are completely at the disposal of Miss Kane and her office,” instructed the captain.

“Fuck it, fuck the chief and fuck you, I’ll take my holidays, burn them all,” he stated.

The captain shook his head, “Until she releases you or I get word from the chief, you’re on active duty in the capacity I mentioned earlier, no holiday requests will be processed,” he explained.

Cade glowered but he knew in reality there was actually nothing he could do. Resign? Hardly. “Fuck,” he said, turning and opening the door.

“Trust me Cade, I don’t like this type of deal almost as much as you, don’t like being told how to run my people,” he complained.

Not bothering to reply, Cade stormed from the office, unhappy written all over his face.

Seated back in his car, he let out a slow breath. Her command was simple, find Dalton or Haynes in the hope they might be able to steer her to Bender. Haynes was out of the question and he knew he would have better luck trying to find Jack. Did he know Morrigan Kane? He shook his head. Where to start? Mentally jumbling the random bits of information tumbling inside his head, he started assembling a strategy. Clarice Heller’s corvette was parked in front of Jack Dalton’s apartment building. The voices he heard inside Hilde’s house earlier, one of them sounded an awful lot like the girl, he was sure of it. If she was there and her car was at Jack’s, was Jack also at Hilde’s? “Sonofabitch,” he grumbled. Again, another goddamn mystery and the answer was apparently at Hilde’s. He still had absolutely clue how the hell she had put him to sleep just by tapping him on the head, like some bizarre post hypnotic suggestion or some bullshit.

Starting the car, he put it into gear and set out to return to the place where his day originally took him, but by god this time, he wasn’t going to leave without some bloody answers, come hell or high water.