Copyright © 2006 by Unicode Smith. Permission is granted to copy, distribute or display online provided this copyright notice remains attached.
Men in tuxedos were running great lengths of white ribbon down the aisles, while a woman in the corner erected instruments for the string quartet. In the back, their mother was talking earnestly with the wedding planner. Light streamed in through the stained glass windows and illuminated a few motes of dust floating in the air.
Danielle sidled up to her sister and threw an affectionate arm around her shoulder. "Not too late to back out," she teased. "Leave David on the market for the rest of us."
Julie elbowed her playfully. "And lose my favorite maid of honor? Never. It's just ..." She managed a broad gesture that took in the church, the people, and 12 months of painstaking preparation and recurring crises. "It's just so much. I can't imagine what mom and dad paid for all this. The reception alone ..."
"You just have to give it to them. In a way, it's their day too."
"I thought it was my day. Or ours. You know, David and I talked about eloping."
"Oh God. Mom and dad would've killed you," said Danielle.
"I know. I'm grateful for all this, but part of me wishes the whole thing could've been less of a production."
"How often do you get married?" Danielle chirped. "Enjoy the moment. It'll be gone before you know it."
Julie smiled at her. In some ways Danielle was a slightly younger version of herself: the same blonde hair, blue eyes, she was as self possessed and confident. It seemed like just yesterday they were going clubbing together, flirting with boys and breaking hearts. Now Julie was getting married at 24, and Danielle was grown up and wise beyond her 21 years. When did that happen?
They watched the arrangements unfold in companionable silence, then Julie cracked a mischievous grin. "I have an idea. Let's play hooky."
"Fly off to Cabo? Leave David at the altar and go meet handsome Latin men and drink Pina Coladas? Count me in."
"I was thinking more we walk back to the hotel a little early and open that bottle of Champaign," said Julie. "I don't think David are I are going to be drinking it, and we're not due at the hair dresser for an hour."
"As your maid of honor, I must officially advise against getting sloshed on your wedding day. But, sure, lets go. I'll tell mom."
Danielle bounced down the aisle and cleared things with their mother, then the girls left the darkness of the church and entered the bright sunshine. They donned sunglasses. Julie sneezed.
"Hay fever." She sniffled. "God, I can't believe I'm having a June wedding. I'm fine in December. Why doesn't anybody have Christmas weddings?"
But it was a beautiful day in the city, and the sisters marched with a spring in their step in the direction of the hotel.
No sooner had Dover taken a seat outside the restaurant when a gentle breeze carried a trace of cigarette smoke from the table behind him. He turned back to target a disapproving stare at the source, a young man in a power suit sitting alone with a cup of coffee and the remains of a sandwich, gabbing loudly on a cell phone while sucking on a Marlboro. Dover was about to say something, when a pretty, dark-haired waitress emerged from the restaurant and spared him the trouble.
"Excuse me, sir," she said to the smoker. "I'm sorry, but you can't smoke here."
The man ignored her and kept talking.
"Sir. I'm going to have to ask you not to smoke here," she said more firmly. "Please put it out or step away from the tables while you're smoking." She was a cute brunette in tight jeans and a short tee shirt that exposed her midriff. Dover guessed she was 19 or 20, probably working her way through college dealing with imbeciles like this.
"Hold on a second," the man said into the phone. Then, to the waitress: "Honey, I'm outdoors. I can smoke outdoors. Now be a good girl and get me some more coffee." He looked her body up and down rudely, lingering on the swell of her breasts, and went back to his call.
She shook her head and mumbled something, then walked to Dover's table -- conspicuously failing to fetch the customer more coffee. "What a jerk," she said under her breath. She smiled apologetically at Dover and handed him a menu. "Can I get you something to start with?"
"I'll just have a cup of hot water please," he said.
Her smile faded a bit. "That's not all you'll be having, is it?"
"And what if it is?"
She pursed her lips. "This time of day the outdoor tables are reserved for lunch guests."
Dover graced her with his most pleasant smile, which wasn't all that pleasant. "Of course I'll be having lunch. I'm just going to start with some hot water. Please."
She nodded and disappeared into the restaurant. Dover pretended to study the menu while admiring a group of young women passing on the sidewalk. After a moment, the slender brunette reappeared with a steaming cup, her order pad at the ready. "Thank you," he said. "I'll just need another minute." She shot him a skeptical look and moved to another table.
Dover took a foil packet from his pocket and emptied it into the water, then stirred it deliberately with a spoon. He inhaled over the cup and wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was the hard part: that sickly sweet flavor, like rotting molasses. When he first started experimenting with the substance, he all too often vomited it right back up again. Now he could stomach it, if he limited its use to special occasions.
He picked up the cup and tilted its contents into his mouth, downing it in a few fortitudinous gulps. He grimaced as he reset the cup, then remained very still: it wouldn't do to send it sloshing around in his stomach straight away. If he could keep it down through the next couple minutes, he'd be fine.
The pesky young waitress reappeared just as he was ready to test it. "What would you like?," she asked with forced pleasantness.
He stood carefully. "Actually, I'm not going be eating anything." He stepped closer. "That's fine with you."
Her expression changed as his thick, sugary breath reached her with his words. She took a step back and blinked. The impatience faded from her features, replaced by a dazed look. "Umm, yeah. That's ... fine. I'll just --"
"You'll stand here for a moment." He moved nearer, closer than was really proper. "Speak quietly. Tell me your name."
Her hand rose to her temple as though she suddenly had a headache -- which was possible, some women experienced side effects. "Lisa," she said quietly, looking up at him with hazel eyes. "I'm Lisa."
Dover smiled and placed a possessive hand on the smooth bare skin of her waist. Over her shoulder he could see a waiter watching them through the glass doors with evident concern.
"Sadly, I have to go, Lisa. You're not really my type anyway. Actually, I think you're his type." He nodded towards the smoker, who'd finished the cigarette and was devoting his full attention to the phone call. "When I walk away, I want you to go over and start kissing him. I want you to have sex with him, if you can. Throw yourself at him shamelessly. Do you understand?"
She bit her lower lip fetchingly, and glanced over at the man with apprehension. Dover leaned in closer, close enough to kiss her himself. "Do you understand?," he asked softly, his breath playing over her with each syllable.
"Yes. I understand."
He walked off. When he was two storefronts away he looked back to see Lisa straddling the surprised diner in his chair. Her delicate hands were feverishly unfastening his belt, while she planted open-mouthed kisses in his face and neck with such desperate abandon she might have been months in a scorching desert, and he a fountain of clear water.
Her order pad was on the ground next to his cell phone. Dover couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a tear of shame roll down her cheek.
Dover started a timer on his watch. He'd have about two hours now. Not much time. That's why he'd learned to start the process near a nice hotel -- to take full advantage of his window of opportunity.
He turned his back on the sidewalk tryst and continued down the street
towards his destination.
Dover positioned himself in a lounge chair in the corner of the lobby, gratified that the climate control managed to hover between uncomfortable warmth and unnatural air-conditioned iciness.
Everything in the hotel was first rate, the cavernous lobby was all black marble and gleaming brass. More important, the clientele was rarified and lovely. He'd seen several candidates already: beautiful women all, many of them alone. Even some of the staff were worth considering. He had his eye on a lithesome auburn-haired girl at the front desk.
Then he saw the blonde women march in from the street. One was tall -- his height -- wearing a pink skirt and a matching blouse. She had a narrow waist, full hips and breasts, a graceful neck. Her hair was in a clip over her head. An engagement ring sparkled on her finger.
The other was younger and shorter, in tight jeans and a tank top. Her bare arms were exquisite, lean and toned. Her hair was short and choppy, and she wore bangles on her wrists. Her pert breasts, though, were her best features. He couldn't wait to have her show them to him -- to feel them in his hands.
He stood and followed the women across the lobby.
"I still can't believe how swank this place is," said Danielle.
"Yeah, David did good," Julie said, puzzling at an abstract sculpture near the hotel bar. "He must have checked out a dozen hotels before settling on this one." They crossed the lobby and boarded one of the waiting elevators.
Danielle pressed the top button and the door started to close, just as a voice called from outside. "Hold the elevator please." It was a tall, 40-something man moving in long, calm strides towards the lift.
"Sorry," Danielle sang, tapping the door-close button rapidly. Julie giggled.
Just as the doors were about to touch, the man's hand shot between them. The doors glided open and he stepped in. "Almost got away," he said, smiling with thin lips. Danielle and Julie smiled back politely, shared a look and turned their eyes to the numbers above the doors as the elevator began its ascent.
The man, though, kept his eyes on them, flagrantly sizing them up like pieces of meat. There's always an asshole, Julie thought.
Then she realized with unease that he hadn't selected a floor.
"It looks like it's going to be a long ride." His voice was crisp. "So while we're taking it I want you both to make out with me."
Julie's mouth dropped in astonishment. "Go to hell, creep."
But her sister's reaction was different. Danielle looked more confused than angry. Her lips parted quizzically, she tilted her head and blinked at the man a few times with her bright eyes.
Then Julie watched in amazement as her sister stepped languidly into his arms, stretched on her toes and kissed him full on the lips. Her hands hung at her side and she pressed her body against his, working her mouth open. In a moment Danielle and the stranger were in full passionate exchange.
"Danielle, are you kidding me? What are you doing?"
The man pulled away and regarded Julie with something like surprise. He stepped towards her a bit, and she pressed back against the compartment wall. Danielle resettled on his ear, running her tongue over it while rubbing his chest with her manicured hands.
"You've fallen in love with me," he said to Julie. "Make out with me now."
Even through her stuffy nose Julie could detect something odd on his breath. Was he drunk? Still, there was something about him ... He was undeniably attractive, in a dignified way. She felt a stirring inside her -- a trace of giddiness, like the first time she met David.
Her eyes traveled to his mouth, and she took a step towards him.
Then the elevator chimed, and the doors rolled open, snapping her back to reality. Julie's eyes darted back and forth between the man and the hall outside. She forced herself out of the elevator, watching him warily as though he were a dog that might suddenly attack.
With the elevator ride over, Danielle stopped nibbling the man's ear and raised a hand to her mouth. "Wh -- why did I do that?," she stammered.
"Danielle, there's something not right here," Julie said slowly. "Come to the room with me. Right now."
The man followed Julie unhurried into the hall, and she took a couple steps back, maintaining the distance between them. "Everything's okay," he said. "Come here for a minute."
She blanched and shook her head as he steadily advanced on her. Past him, Danielle seemed dazed. "Danielle, come on!" Julie backed away farther, then stole a backward glance down the empty hall, ready to bolt.
The man let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to Danielle. "Stop her." The younger girl met his gaze and crinkled her brow. Then she nodded.
Julie spun and raced away.
Danielle pulled off her heels and threw them to the floor, a solitary thought careening wildly through her mind. Stop Julie. She took off after her sister, who was already halfway down the hall.
Julie paused at the end of the hall and called back to her. "Danielle, stop! Think about what you're doing."
She tried. She wanted to. She still had the taste of the older man in her mouth, and her mind held the flavor of the frightening compulsion that put her in his arms. They should both be running from him. She wanted to say that, to shout it to her sister. But she couldn't make herself squander a breath that might be invested in her pursuit. She had to stop Julie.
Julie registered her sister's determination and dashed down an adjacent hall. Danielle rounded the corner at full speed and ran straight into a towel cart parked outside an open room, sending her spinning and tumbling to the carpet. She jumped back to her feet and resumed the chase, as a young Latina chambermaid emerged from the room to check out the commotion.
Down the hall Julie had stopped outside a door and was riffling through her bag franticly. Danielle pushed out an extra burst of speed; the room doors raced by in a blur. Stop her. But Julie pulled the room card out of her bag and swiped the lock, wrenched the door open and shut it behind her. Danielle slammed against it and turned the handle. It was locked.
She pounded. "Julie, open the door!," she yelled. "Please." She knocked and knocked.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. He was holding her shoes, and something else. A plastic card. "Courtesy of housekeeping," he said with a icy grin.
Julie scanned the endless options on the room phone. Finally, she just dialed the front desk. It started ringing, as the door emitted a beep and hummed with the unmistakable sound of a electronic bolt retracting.
She dropped the telephone, ran through the vestibule and swung the latch on the brass door restraint. The door opened five inches and locked hard against the clasp. Danielle's face appeared in the narrow opening.
"Julie, open the door," she said softly. "Everything's alright."
Julie shook her head. "No. I'm calling security. Once they're here I'll let you in. I'm sorry."
Danielle moved aside, and the man appeared in her place. He didn't say anything. He just inhaled deeply and blew a long breath through the opening. It washed over Julie's face, tickling her cheeks and stirring her hair. She smelled that scent again, stronger. Sweet and thick. It was somehow intoxicating. It made her dizzy.
"Let me in," said the man.
The command splashed into her mind like an anchor into the sea. Let him in. At first she could ignore it, but it kept sinking deeper, past the shallow layers of her will and into the depths. Let him in. Her hand rose against her will and pressed the door shut; unclasped the restraint, and reopened it wide.
The man entered and quickly stepped within inches of her face, drew another deep breath, and let it out gently over her. She blinked and the world tilted.
"Don't move or raise your voice," he said.
Julie held her hands up and took a faltering step back. Don't move or raise my voice. She opened her mouth to scream. Don't move. Don't raise my voice.
She fell silent and still.
The size of the suite surprised Dover. He hadn't expected these girls to have money. The door opened into a vestibule, beyond which he could see a large living room with sofas arranged around a coffee table in a conversation nook. A wall-sized sliding glass door offered a spectacular view of the city and opened onto a terrace.
"Danielle, release her, go into the next room and sit on a sofa. Don't yell or make a fuss."
The girl obeyed, a little faster than last time, he was pleased to see. The substance builds up. He turned to the older one, standing like a beautiful statue. Her blonde hair was gathered casually and held up by a plastic clip, leaving her delicate ears exposed. Gold hoop earrings hung from them. She had a slight dimple in her chin, and smooth unblemished skin. Her deep blue eyes watched him fearfully.
"You and Danielle are sisters, is that right?"
"None of your business," she said bravely. "What are you doing to us? People know we're here."
He gave her a brittle smile, then blew into her face again.
"Answer all my questions truthfully and completely. Are you sisters?"
She pressed her mouth shut -- fighting not to answer, he imagined. But after a moment her ruby lips parted. "Yes."
"Your voice sounds a bit nasal, Julie. Could it be that you have a cold?"
"I ... have allergies."
"And you don't have any antihistamines?"
"I do, in my bag. I was afraid they'd make me sleepy." She sniffled.
"Hmmm. Wait here," he said needlessly.
He passed Danielle in the living room, sitting on one of the sofas with her eyes darting around as though looking for a back door. She was trembling a little.
The phone was on the floor. He hung it up, then located Julie's purse and poured a glass of water from a pitcher positioned next to a lavish fruit basket and a bottle of Champaign in an ice bucket. He stroked Danielle's cheek on the way back to the vestibule -- she cringed from his touch, but didn't shout or scream.
Julie was where he'd left her. "I'd like to think I'm the kind of man who enjoys a challenge. But I'm not." He blew into her face again. "Take this," he ordered, putting the glass and two Sudafed in her hands.
He watched her throat as she swallowed the pills with a gulp of water, then breathed on her again -- it was getting tedious. "Follow me."
She trailed him obediently to the other room, where he sat her on an empty couch and imparted more instructions with his breath: she was to sit there silently while they waited for the decongestant to work. If she needed to go to the bathroom, she'd raise her hand, like in kindergarten.
He sat down next to the younger sister. She turned away from him. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he could make out the outline of her nipples through her tank top. "Face me," he said.
She turned, her blue eyes screaming silently. Her skin was pale and smooth. He brushed a stray hair from her face and touched her lips.
"I quite liked being kissed by you in the elevator," he said. "You're very sexy. Not as sexy as me, of course. I'm making you incredibly horny right now, just sitting here. You find yourself wanting to fuck me very badly. Your need for me will grow stronger with every passing second."
He watched as the suggestions took hold of her. First she shook her head in denial. Then her breathing started to become heavy and shaky. She ran a hand through her choppy hair and her eyes played over his face and body.
Her lips parted and her head began to float towards his as though drawn by an invisible string. "Is this... is this how you get your kicks?," she said between labored breaths. "Hypnotizing ... women half your age into ... into being attracted to you?"
"I assure you, you have seen only the barest glimpse of how I get my kicks."
Her lips grazed his softly. "You're sick," she whispered into his mouth. The she kissed him hard, breathing through her nose. She tasted of lip gloss and bubble gum.
She broke the kiss long enough to pull the top off over her head and drop it to the floor -- the bangles on her wrists clinking. Dover smiled. Her tits were buoyant, her pink nipples erect. She wrapped a hand around his head and kissed him again harder.
He found her breasts with his hands. They were firm and yielding to his touch. Her nipples poked into his palms. Danielle gasped and jumped to her feet, chest heaving, and unsnapped the top button of her jeans while eyeing his erection hungrily.
Then her eyes darted self-consciously to her sister -- who was watching from the other couch, shaking her head desperately.
"No," Danielle whispered to Dover. "Not in front of Julie. Please. Take me in the bedroom."
He frowned. "Perhaps I won't take you at all."
Danielle trembled, and after a long moment continued opening her jeans button-by-button. She peeled them over her hips and down to her feet, along with her panties, then stepped out of them and kicked them aside with her naked foot.
He nodded appreciatively. Her nude body was toned, her blonde pubic hair shaved down to a sliver. Danielle glanced over at her sister, then turned her gaze back to Dover and dropped to her knees in front of him.
She began unclasping his belt feverishly. He reached down and touched her cheek -- then stood so abruptly that she fell back on the carpet.
"I'm still not convinced," he said. "Perhaps your sister won't be so particular about where I screw her." He took a few paces to the other sofa and sat down next to Julie, who turned away and closed her eyes tight, squeezing out a single tear.
Danielle watched from the floor, her face a mask of desperation. "Please," she said. "I'm sorry. I'll do it anywhere you want. Just fuck me." She stretched out her naked body and began crawling towards him on all fours. "Please, please fuck me."
He was gratified to see that Julie was watching now, her mouth hanging open in shock. "Relax Julie," he said. "You'll be begging for me too, soon enough. Perhaps I'll make you two fight over me."
Danielle reached him and began groping at his fly. "Stop," he said.
She hovered there, face flushed, tears of frustration forming in her crystal blue eyes. "Please," she said in a tiny voice.
"I'd like some entertainment first. It's up to you of course, but if you want me, I'd like to see you make out with your sister."
Danielle opened her mouth as if to protest, but stopped -- probably regretting the last time she questioned him, he thought.
As Julie watched with obvious disbelief, Danielle moved away from Dover and crouched next to her sister. She studied Julie's face for a second, as though contemplating whether she could bring herself to do it. "I'm sorry Julie. You can't understand. I want him so much." She slid onto her sister's lap and leaned in with her lips parted.
Julie fought admirably, twisting her head to the left and right to evade her sister's ripe mouth. Dover grew impatient, leaned over and blew a fresh stream of air over Julie's face. "Make out with Danielle."
She stopped fighting and settled her gaze on her sister's eyes -- then met Danielle's kiss eagerly.
They melted into a chain of long, deep kisses, their tongues meshing and pushing back and forth into each other's mouths sloppily, their noses butting as they twisted and writhed.
Dover stood and walked to the table by the terrace window. He peeled the foil off the bottle of Champaign, popped the cork and poured himself a glass, then settled into a sofa.
From there, he watched the girls with the practiced eye of a connoisseur. Of the two, Julie was far more committed now, thanks to the insatiable command that had taken root in her mind. She wasn't just kissing her little sister -- she was caressing the side of Danielle's face, and her kisses were punctuated by little bites to the lip and teasing flicks of her tongue. Danielle, on the other hand, was doing the minimum she could to make him happy.
"I'm not impressed, Danielle," he sang in warning tone.
To Dover's delight, Danielle reached down to Julie's blouse with both hands and ripped it open, scattering buttons to the floor and revealing a black lace bra over snowy skin. Julie let out a surprised squeal, but didn't stop making out with her sister.
Danielle slid one hand beneath the hanging blouse and squeezed Julie's right breast through her bra. Julie pressed into it, and their kissing grew more passionate, filled with soft moans and panting.
"That's good," Dover said. "That's very good." He put down the glass. "You can fuck me now."
Danielle disengaged from Julie and fairly leapt across the room to where Dover sat. She opened his belt and pulled his pants down to the floor roughly, then straddled him. Her soft hands found the shaft of his penis.
"The other way," he said. "I want you to face Julie."
Danielle raised a limber leg over his head and spun around -- her butt surprisingly cold on his lap. For a moment her hair was in his face and he could smell the perfume she wore behind her ears, then she bent her body, grabbed the coffee table for support and squirmed backwards until her pussy pressed against his erection.
He guided her hips, and she let out a gasp of pain and pleasure as he penetrated her. Dover moaned involuntarily -- she was tight and wet.
Julie watched helpless from the other sofa as Dover pumped her sister from behind. Danielle panted and groaned. "You're sick. I hate you," she breathed. "Ohhh. Yessss. Fuck me. God. I hate you. Godgodgod. Fuck me."
Her hard body grew slick with sweat as they built up speed. She was
thrashing her head wildly now, grunting obscenely with every thrust --
"Huh. huh. huh." -- until she let out a strangled, shrill animal
noise that Dover recognized as the sound of a woman having an fierce orgasm
while under an inviolable command not to yell.
Danielle collapsed over Dover's lap in a sated stupor. There was a drizzle of semen on her thigh.
He moved out from under her and walked over to where Julie sat on the other couch, watching him with silent horror and hate. He plopped down next to her like an old friend. "How's that hay fever?," he asked.
Her chin trembled and tears flooded her eyes. "It -- It ..." she fought to contain the words. "It's better," she finally sobbed.
"Stop crying. Dry your tears."
She blinked, wiped her face with the back of her hand.
He could tell she was fighting it, but as he watched a trembling smile formed at the corners of her mouth, then stretched full and wide until she was beaming at him. It was a shallow, salesgirl's smile that didn't reach her eyes, but managed to light up her face all the same.
"Very nice. You have a stunning smile. Take down your hair for me."
She reached behind her head and removed the plastic clip, then combed her blonde hair down with her fingers. It spilled over her shoulders and down her back. She continued to smile at him.
"Now, let's pick up where we left off in the elevator and discuss your feelings for me."
He was interrupted by a firm knocking from the front door. Dover spun his head towards the vestibule. The knock repeated.
He took a quick inventory of the room: a naked girl lying dazed on the sofa, making soft moaning sounds with the memory of recent pleasure, while occasionally murmuring something about hating someone. Another beautiful woman sitting nearby, smiling pleasantly at nothing in particular.
If there was a female on the other side of the door, he could fix matters easily. But if it was a man, he'd have no control, and the scene would be hard to explain.
"Stop smiling. Go into the bathroom and fix your makeup. Don't lock the door, don't make any loud noise, and don't come out until I summon you."
Julie's smile faded. She rose gracefully and walk to the bathroom.
Karen checked her message pad to confirm the room number. "This is it. Maybe we should knock louder. It's a large suite."
Next to her the hotel security officer cupped his ear theatrically, then shook his head and with a wry smile aimed a thick finger at the peephole -- just as it went dark for a second, then turned bright again.
"Oh, you're good," Karen laughed. Pretty cute, too, she thought. She heard a bustle from inside: the sound of someone concealing something? -- or maybe just finding some clothes. Finally the door swung open.
"Can I help you?" The man was fully dressed, but the girl on his arm was in one of the hotel's terrycloth robes. She smiled at them innocently. She was Karen's age -- beautiful, and young enough to be the man's daughter. But Karen had seen that before.
"I'm sorry to bother you sir --"
"You work at the front desk," he interrupted. "I saw you down there earlier." He seemed strangely delighted. Was he actually flirting with her? Oh, gross.
"Yes sir," she said with a professional smile. "That's why we're here. There was a report of shouting and some kind of noise in the hall, and we got a call from your room. Nobody was on the line."
His eyes flicked between her and Bob, the security man, and he smiled apologetically. "Yes, I'm sorry about the call. We were ordering room service, and we got ... caught up in something else." As if on cue, the blonde girl cuddled against him.
Bob addressed the girl directly. "So, everything's okay here?"
The girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Everything's great."
There was something disquieting about the couple. Karen looked at the guest printout. "Are you mister... Roberts, then?"
The man hesitated. "Darling, wait here please," he said to his companion. He stepped into the hall with them, as though to speak in confidence. He seemed harmless, but she didn't like him so close.
"Honestly," he continued, "everything is fine here. There's nothing to worry about."
His breath was sweet and pungent -- like cloves, Karen thought, wistfully. She felt dizzy.
Everything is fine here. There's nothing to worry about.
"Of course," she smiled. "Sorry to have bothered you. Please enjoy the remainder of your stay."
"Thank you. I appreciate your diligence."
The man retreated into his room. As he closed the door, Karen saw the blonde girl fold her arms over her chest protectively, still smiling, but with a look of silent pleading in her eyes.
For a moment Karen wondered if she'd missed something important, but
the budding thought withered and died in her head. Everything was fine
here. There was nothing to worry about.
Julie watched herself in the mirror are she carefully applied mascara to her long eyelashes with delicate strokes. Fix my makeup. She eyed the results critically, blinking a few times, and set the applicator down on the counter. Her lashes looked great; her eyeliner was perfect; she had just the right amount of powder and blush.
She was free now to look around the bathroom for some means of communication. Shouting was out of the question. Had there been a window, she could write a note on a roll of toilet paper and throw it out. There wasn't one, of course.
Her heart leapt as she spotted a small ceiling vent. Maybe she could tap out a quiet SOS that would be heard in an adjacent suite. She opened the drawers in search of a tool -- something metal -- but caught another glimpse of her reflection ...
Her lipstick was a mess. How had she missed that? Why did she have to see it now?
Fix my makeup. Her hands trembled in frustration as she opened her red lipstick and applied it carefully. She pressed her lips together, then made a kiss in the air.
She heard footsteps approaching outside -- there would be no SOS. But something shiny in the drawer caught her eye. Her cuticle scissors. She couldn't disobey him, but she could stab him in the eye and put a stop to this nightmare.
She palmed the tiny scissors just as the door swung open.
He stepped into the bathroom. "You're in love with me," he said.
The dizziness hit her again, but this time it was trailed by an endorphin thrill. Her heart leapt into her throat and she heard a small, surprised gasp escape her perfectly made-up lips.
I'm in love with him.
Suddenly, she couldn't take her eyes off of him -- this stranger who'd screwed her sister right in front of her, who'd humiliated them both. He was the one she wanted. Her legs turned to rubber. She gazed at his face and let the scissors fall from her limp hand to the floor. How could she possibly hurt him?
He barely glanced at the abandoned weapon and held out his hand to her. She took it and let him lead her into the living room. Maybe he would make love to her, like he did Danielle. She longed to be in his arms. She hadn't felt this way since ...
"Oh no," she stopped in her tracks, pulled her hand away and covered her mouth. "Oh God, David."
He frowned. "So, I have a rival for your affections." He moved close again. "You don't care about David."
A puff of sweet breath, and she felt her love for David evaporate. The man hadn't even asked who he was.
"You're completely, passionately in love with me," he continued. "I'm the only one you want. Say it."
"I'm completely, passionately in love with you," she said truthfully. "You're the only one I want."
He smiled. Julie noticed for the first time that Danielle was standing by the sofa, an open robe hanging loose over her body. She was staring vacantly into space and murmuring something. Julie strained to hear.
"Dover is my god. Dover is my king. I love Dover. Dover is my god ..."
"As you can seen," he said, "I'm in need of constant reassurance."
"Oh, God," Julie breathed. They were just playthings to him, doomed to play out whatever perverse whims bubbled up from his Id. "Please, make her stop. Let her go. You have me."
He walked over to Danielle, touched her chin and tilted her face up towards his.
"Dover is my king. I love Dover. Dover is my god..."
"You can stop that now."
She collapsed on the sofa with a quiet sob.
Julie watched her sister with concern as he walked back. Then he caressed her arm, and at his touch an electric current ran through her body to her most private parts. All thoughts of Danielle faded. She stepped into him, reached up and touched his face with her hands. She gazed into his eyes -- such a beautiful gray. I'm completely in love with him. He's the only one I want. She was grateful now that she'd taken such care with her makeup. She wanted to look good for him.
She kissed him passionately, her body aching with desire. She felt his erection push against her thigh through their clothes. All she wanted was to be naked with him, share herself intimately. She shrugged off the remains of her blouse then frantically removed her bra, her skirt, her panties. The room was cold and goose bumps broke out over her naked body. She didn't care.
Julie unbuttoned his shirt, yanked it back over his shoulders and down off his arms, then started kissing his bare chest, tasting him with her tongue and leaving a trail of red lipstick blots on his skin.
"Stop," Danielle croaked from the sofa. "You can't do this to her. She's supposed to be getting married today."
"Hmmm. A pity," he said. He reached down and touched the moistness between Julie's long legs, sending another jolt through her body.
"Wait," he said. He pulled away from Julie, and his eyes took in his surroundings as though seeing them for the first time -- the suite, the Champaign. "This ... is the honeymoon suite," he said.
Julie swallowed. "Yes. I mean, no. It was supposed to be. But I don't want him now. I only want you."
A bit of perspiration broke out above his lip. "Is it possible, then, that there's a wedding dress nearby?"
"In ... in the bedroom," said Julie.
"Show me. Both of you."
The dress sat upright on the floor as though inhabited by an invisible bride. It was strapless, with a ball gown skirt of delicate white taffeta, like a sculpture of snow. A princess's dress, it fairly glowed with virgin purity.
"It's quite beautiful," Dover admitted, his voice distant. "I had a bride once. It took only a year of wedded bliss before she decided she'd be happier with a different consort -- a colleague from her office, as I recall."
"She hurt you," Julie said.
"Yes," he said flatly. "She was lovely. Not as lovely as you two, but quite exciting in her own way. For the longest time I would have done anything to win her back.
"Years later, I acquired the power to do so with a few well-chosen words. I paid her a visit at her home. The things I made her do ..." He trailed off.
"By the time I was finished, I was quite over her. She, on the other hand, was pleading for me to take her back -- kissing my feet, sobbing like a little girl. I've not seen her since, but I'm quite confident that an hour doesn't pass without her thinking of me with profound longing and regret. And she'll never want another man."
He reflected on the dress in silence for a long moment, then roused himself. "There are bridesmaids, I suppose?"
"Yes," Julie said. "I mean, there were."
"Four, plus me," Danielle answered. "I'm the maid of honor."
"I really don't care about the wedding," said Julie. "I don't even care what you've done to us anymore. I just want to be yours."
He nodded absently. He didn't really like making women fall in love with him. It took a good deal of fun out of his games. But it was also the safest route when taking more than one at a time. It covered a lot of ground -- no need to construct commands that accounted for every contingency and prohibited anything they might do to get him in trouble. Make her love you, and she won't want to get you in trouble.
A glance at his watch told him he had scarcely 30 minutes before the substance wore off, and his stomach wouldn't be able to handle another dose for days.
A plan formed in his head. It was risky. Something he'd never tried before. But the payoff would be enormous.
"Julie, I want you to put the dress on. Will you do that for me?"
She nodded compliantly.
"Help your sister get dressed Danielle."
He left them to their task and called room service from the phone in the living room. He ordered a pot of hot water, "quickly please", then made himself comfortable on the sofa where Danielle had fucked him
He sipped some Champaign and waited.
And waited some more. How long did it take to put on a dress?
Finally the bedroom door opened, and the girls walked out, Julie first. She was stunning -- a radiant vision in white.
"Spin for me."
She twirled and the dress billowed around her.
There was a knock on the door. Dover walked through the vestibule and signed for the hot water -- $25.00. He wheeled the cart in himself: a full tea service with six cups and saucers, an assortment of herbal and black teas and a steaming tea pot.
He moved the hot water, a cup and a silver spoon to the coffee table, and guided Danielle and Julie to the couch. The next part would be tricky. He blew gently over Danielle's face -- hoping for an extra boost of control -- and issued new orders. "Danielle, you belong to me now. Say it."
She blinked. "I belong to you now."
"You will obey me without question. Serving me is the most important thing in your life."
"I'll obey you without question. Serving you is the most important thing in my life."
He blew again. "You will feel this way forever."
"I -- I will feel this way forever."
He pulled a foil packet from his pocket, shook its contents into the cup and poured hot water over it. He started stirring.
"I'll be honest with you, Danielle. I've never given this to a woman before. I'm not entirely certain what it's going to do to you. It might just send you into a stupor for two hours." He held out the cup. "Drink it."
Three minutes later, Danielle emerged from the bathroom, her face sweaty and pale. "I'm sorry. I tried. I couldn't keep it down."
"Don't worry, my dear. It took me a while at first. I have plenty of
these." He ripped open another packet.
Karen handed the Johnsons their room key across the counter. "The elevator is straight though the lobby on your right. Enjoy your stay!," she said with a wide smile. The couple thanked her and rolled their overnight bag towards the elevators.
She checked her watch -- another three hours in her shift. She was looking forward to getting home, then going out with Frank, the first boyfriend she'd had in a year with any real potential. Bob, the quiet security officer, seemed nice though. She wondered if he was seeing anyone seriously.
When she looked up, a guest was approaching the desk -- young, blonde, bangles on her wrists and a tony bag on her shoulder. Karen almost didn't recognize her fully clothed and without the older man on her arm.
"Can I help you?"
"I, um, wanted to thank you for before," the girl said. "It's nice to know the hotel is, you know, looking out its guests."
"No problem," Karen smiled. "Forgive me for asking, but you seem a little shaken. Is everything alright?"
"Actually, I wanted to tell you something. You remember the man I was in the room with?" The young woman leaned over the counter. Karen bent forward. Something was wrong. How could her instincts have failed her so thoroughly? She nodded.
"You have to fuck him," the blonde said, her sweet, treacly breath filling Karen's nostrils and flowing into her lungs.
The room seemed to withdraw around them: it was just Karen and the blonde. Her heart pounded in her ears and she swayed unsteadily. What had the girl said? She must have misheard.
"You have to fuck him," she repeated slowly, an invisible syrupy fog puffing into Karen's face with each syllable. "You want him. Nothing else matters now. Your job, your whole life. You must fuck him."
With that, the blonde spun on her high heels and made for the front door, leaving Karen alone to struggle against the words sinking into her.
She stayed there, gathering herself, fighting the impulse that was taking hold. I have to fuck him. She shook her head wildly and cast her eyes around the lobby for help.
Across the room Bob came out the elevator. She tried to make eye contact, fearful that the effort of crying out or raising her arm would forfeit her internal struggle. I... have... to...
Bob saw her and smiled. She thought for a moment he would come over to her, but he headed for the men's room instead. She let out a soft cry and felt the commands stab hard in her brain. I have to fuck him. I want him. Nothing else matters. My job doesn't matter. My life doesn't matter.
I must fuck him. Karen logged off the hotel computer and walked
towards the elevators.
Dover leaned back and took another halfhearted sip from his glass. Champaign wasn't his favorite, and he regretted not ordering a nice Chardonnay with the hot water. The entertainment, though, could hardly be better.
Julie was writhing on the floor, the furls of her wedding dress pulled back, one hand squeezing and caressing her own tits through the dress, the other hand between her legs where she was touching herself vigorously. Her eyes were locked on his, and she was moaning in a pleasure that wouldn't climax. She was under the strictest command not to come.
"I promise to love, honor and obey Dover," she gasped between groans. "For as long as we both shall live. I promise to love, honor and obey Dover, for as long as we both shall live."
A knock. Dover left his ersatz bride and walked to the vestibule. He peeked through the peephole and opened the door.
The girl from the front desk was on the other side. She had stylish short auburn hair, a harp-shaped mouth and a spray of freckles on her cheeks. "Umm, hello sir. I spoke with your friend downstairs and I thought I would come up and see if ... if there was anything I could get you."
"Hmmm. I don't think so. She's only gone to fetch me a few things. I'm quite alright, thank you." He closed the door on her.
He walked back over to Julie. "Love, honor, and obey Dover, for as long as we -- ohhhhh b-both shall live ..."
"You may stop that now."
She sat upright and flipped her hair back, reached up to him longingly. "P-please screw me. I'm so horny. You c-can't leave me like this." She clutched his pants and climbed up his legs to his crotch, buried her face there. "Pleeeeease screw me."
He pulled Julie to her feet just before the second knock drew him back to the door.
This time the front desk girl didn't look so composed. Her eyes were downcast and her face was flushed with embarrassment. "I -- I'm sorry to bother you again. It's just ... I need you. I need to fuck you." She forced her gaze upward and met his eyes. "Whatever she did for you, I can do better. I'll do anything. You can have me any way you want."
She stepped closer and lifted herself on her toes to reach him. Her mouth closed against his lower lip. She sucked and pulled on it, bit it gently, then leaned up to his ear and flicked her warm tongue against it. "I swear," she whispered, "I'll do anything."
Dover had planned on making her go through a couple more rounds of knocking and pleading, but now he was finding her persuasive. So effective were her ministrations that it took him a moment to notice that they were being watched. Down the hall the young housekeeping girl who'd provided him with the room key was eyeing them with obvious unease. She was perhaps 19 years old.
She might even think to call the security guard back, Dover worried. He shrugged off the front desk girl and walked down the hall towards the chambermaid. A moment later, he returned with the pretty Latina hanging from his arm, staring into his face worshipfully.
He admitted both ladies into the suite, just as a cell phone started
ringing from within.
"Oh, thanks goodness. Where's your sister? She's fifteen minutes late and not answering her phone."
Danielle moved close to her mother. "Everything's okay," she breathed. "Just sit down and get your hair done."
Her mother blinked a few times, then sat herself in a chair next to David's mother, whose hair was already up in pins. "Hi Danielle!"
"Hi Angela! Julie is right behind me."
"That's a relief. We were getting worried."
The girls all said hello from their seats, their hair in various stages of beatification. Rich, the salon manager, introduced himself in a flutter of hurried warm wishes, and tried to guide Danielle to a vacant station. "If it's okay, I'm going to wait until Julie gets here," she said.
Not waiting for an answer, Danielle approached the nearest bridesmaid, a petite black girl Julie had roomed with in college. She touched her shoulder. "Oh, Carrie, you look great!"
"Thanks!," Carrie laughed. "But I just sat down." A hairdresser had sprayed water on her straight hair and was combing it out.
Danielle crouched next to her and lowered her voice to a hush. "Get up and come with me."
She watched the internal struggle play over the girl's face -- the same small, futile battle of resistance that Danielle had fought and lost again and again that day. Carrie blinked rapidly and her hand rose to her temple. Then her face softened, her lips parted and she looked into Danielle's eyes curiously. "Wh -- where are we going?"
"Don't ask questions. Just follow me wherever I take you."
Carrie nodded and started getting up, ignoring the protestations of her hairdresser. Danielle moved down the line to another of Julie's friends, a shapely brunette. "I'm sorry, I forgot your name."
"That's okay, we only met once. I'm Susan." She smiled prettily.
Danielle leaned over her. "Susan, you're going to get up and follow me now."
Susan's smile faded. She stood immediately and followed Danielle to the next chair -- occupied by a beautiful redhead named Amber. Next to her was Laura, a statuesque blonde with short hair.
By the time Danielle had marshaled all four girls, Rich was in full lather. "Where are you going? We really don't have time for this."
Danielle stepped close to him. "Everything's okay."
"Everything is not okay, young lady." She'd forgotten -- her breath wouldn't affect men. Dover had been quite specific. Something to do with pheromones. "Mrs. Anderson," Rich continued, appealing to Danielle's mother. "You told me we were on a strict schedule."
"Everything's okay," Danielle's mom sang from her chair.
"Bye now," Danielle waved in his face, and led the four obedient bridesmaids out the door like a pied piper.
* * *
Karen straddled Dover on the couch, grinding passionately, arching her back and running one hand over her breasts and stomach. She'd proven true to her word -- she was a vigorous and inventive lover. He'd enjoyed the soft firmness of her breasts as she squeezed his cock between them; warmth of her mouth as she wrapped it in her lips.
"Ohhh, God, yesss," Karen groaned, her hands moving to her face.
Karen's moans joined the duet of similar sounds coming from the other sofa, where Julie and the young chambermaid were making out passionately. Julie had become jealous and petulant when Dover walked in with his new playmates, so he distracted her by making her eager to tongue-wrestle the pretty Latina, and visa versa. Now everyone was happy.
"Harder," Karen demanded. "Hurt me. Yesssss. Ohhhh ohhhhhhhh!" He felt her shudder around him as she let out a shriek of ecstasy.
He came with her. When her screaming and moaning subsided, she collapsed onto him, panting into his ear and trembling. He ran a hand down her spine. Her back was sweaty with exertion.
Then abruptly she pulled her face back and looked into his eyes with puzzlement, giving way slowly to something less pleasant. "Wh -- what did I do? Oh my God!" She pulled herself off of him, jumped unsteadily to her feet and began casting around for her clothes, which were scattered on the floor.
She grabbed her panties and pulled them on over her still-wet pussy. "I can't believe I did that," she said angrily, as much to herself as to him. "What's wrong with me?" She found her blouse and began buttoning it haphazardly." And you!" She spun on Dover. "What the hell is wrong with you! I'm young enough to be your daughter. Jesus! Where the hell are my pants?"
It was Danielle's commands, Dover realized. She'd filled the girl with the need to have sex with him, but nothing beyond that. With the need fulfilled, Karen was free.
He stood calmly, pulled up his pants and approached Karen. "Get away from me!," she snapped.
"Relax. Take your clothes back off."
"Oh, fuck you," she said. She spotted her pants by the chair and scooped them up, then shot a contemptuous look at Julie and the chambermaid and shook her head. She stepped into her pant legs.
Dover checked his watch. As he'd feared, his time had run out. There was nothing he could do to keep Karen from leaving.
Fully, if messily, dressed, Karen marched through the vestibule to the front door, still grumbling bitterly. Her hair flipped as she turned to share a parting thought. "You're a fucking pervert."
She wrenched the door open and walked briskly out. It swung closed behind her with finality.
Dover considered his options. He'd be wise to leave before she got to the lobby. He glanced at Julie and the young housekeeper, so focused on each other that they'd paid not the slightest attention to the little drama. He wouldn't even be able to make them stop to say goodbye.
He found Julie's bag by the sofa and fished out the cell phone. He scrolled through the stored phone numbers until he found one labeled "Danielle."
She answered on the second ring. "Hello?"
"It's me. Where are you?"
"I just got here. I'm in the lobby. The girls are getting --"
"The young lady you sent up to see me is on her way down right now," he interrupted. "Meet her at the elevator, and bring her back with you. Go quickly."
He flipped the phone shut and waited, watching the girls kissing. He poured some more Champaign.
After a few minutes he answered a knock at the door.
It was Danielle, beaming triumphantly. She stepped aside to admit a crowd of women. The first four looked confused. They were carrying identical light-blue dresses draped over hangers. The fifth was Karen. She was also carrying a gown, holding it up carefully so as to not drag it on the floor.
Karen glared at him balefully, but said nothing as she entered the room.
"She started shouting in the elevator, so I told her to be quiet," Danielle said. "I, um, also made her carry my dress. I hope that's alright."
Dover's eyes passed over the women, as though assessing chocolates in a tin. He licked his lips. "Excellent. Danielle, please tell them not to make a fuss or leave the suite. Have them change into their dresses in the living room. Karen can wear yours. No underwear."
The four bridesmaids frowned at this, and looked him up and down with distaste. "Danielle, who is this?," asked a striking redhead with green eyes. "Why did you make us come here?"
"Don't make a fuss or leave the suite. Go in the next room. Change into your dress, and leave your panties off."
In the confined space of the vestibule Danielle's doctored breath reached all five women at once -- Dover himself could smell the sickly sweetness. He watched them struggle against the commands, their pretty faces frowning and squinting.
Then they filed into the next room obediently, the black girl shooting him a look of discomfort as she passed. He admired their asses.
"You did well Danielle."
She sparkled at the praise. "I belong to you now," she whispered.
He kissed her lush mouth and squeezed her ass. After a moment, he led her into the living room with the others.
The girls were mostly undressed, and they made futile efforts to cover themselves when he entered. But their modesty was frustrated by their helpless determination to change into their gowns. He watched their bodies with admiration -- the black girl's ebony skin was flawless, and her breasts the most perfectly shaped he'd seen.
The tall brunette was squeezing her eyes closed as she pulled off her bra, trying to talk herself out of it in a low, husky voice: "Stop... stop... stop." The icy blonde was racing through the changing process, determined to get it over with. The redhead was already in the dress, and was sliding her panties down her legs to her feet. Karen was fighting the commands, her movements as slow and mechanical as they were inevitable.
Once they were changed, Dover walked up and down the line of women and inspected them. The gowns were short, cocktail-length dresses the shimmering blue color of a frozen pond, accented with shoulder ties that made the girls look like presents waiting to be opened. Deep v-necks showed off their cleavage. Lovely by any measure, together the five girls wearing the identical dresses like uniforms amounted to a whole greater than the sum.
He stopped at the black girl. She was studying her naked feet, determined to avoid eye contact with him.
"You look so lovely in that dress. Look at me," he said.
She shook her head tightly, sending little shudders though her still-moist hair. A few delicate drops of water sparkled on her shoulders.
He called Danielle over.
"Danielle, please persuade these beautiful women to enjoy my company."
She nodded and started with the redhead, who protested softly. "Danielle, stop this now. This isn't --"
"You're madly in love with him. You have to fuck him."
Her green eyes moved to Dover's. "Oh, wow ..." she breathed. "I can feel it happening. That's so weird."
Danielle moved to the dark-haired girl, who had large breasts and a starlet's face, red lip gloss that looked wet. "How are you doing this?," she asked. "How are you controlling us. This isn't --"
"Susan, look at him," she pointed at Dover. The girl's eyes moved to his. "He's making you hornier than you've ever been in your life. You'd do anything to screw him. You have to have him."
Susan began shaking her head in denial. But as Dover watched, her breathing grew heavy, and the revulsion in her gaze transformed into smoldering desire. She bit her lip thoughtfully, lost in some fantasy that undoubtedly involved fucking his brains out.
Danielle continued down the line, reaching the trembling black girl last.
"Carrie, it's okay."
Carrie calmed a bit and looked up at Danielle.
"You're hopelessly, passionately in love with him."
Carrie's dark eyes flicked between Danielle and Dover rapidly, then settled on Dover.
He touched her cheek, and she broke into a shy smile. He bent and kissed her tenderly. She tasted of vanilla. Carrie kissed him back, tentatively at first, but then she rolled her tongue into his mouth and he felt the breath from her nostrils hot on his cheek. He ran a hand down her back to her ass, frictionless over her gown.
As he kissed her, the other girls gathered around in a great rustling of silk. In a moment they were all pressing on him, rubbing their bodies against his, kissing him wherever they could find a spot -- the back of his neck, his hand, his ear, his feet.
Their hair brushed against his face on all sides, their perfume mixing together in a potpourri. One of them was on the floor, reaching up to massage his erection. He broke the kiss and looked down to see who it was. It was Karen. She was smiling up at him dreamily, Danielle's dress snug over her body.
He gave Danielle more instructions, and she pulled her sister and the chambermaid apart and spoke some commands. The two girls bounded to their feet and joined the others in ravishing Dover -- Julie's wedding gown adding a complication to their efforts. The chambermaid spoke something loving in Spanish.
Everything was hair, and skin; breasts and arms; promises of devotion and sex carried by sweet breath and soft, feminine voices.
He led them into the bedroom.