InnocenceForSale.com/ Bree, page 5
When Todd drove us to the airport, Bree’s phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw it was Ada from Innocence For Sale.
“Probably concerned about why you’re heading to the airport.” I turned my head and looked out the back window, wondering which of those cars held the fabled IFS security team.
“I’ll tell her it’s OK,” she said, holding out her hand.
I mulled it over for a few seconds, thinking about what kind of firepower they might be packing if Bree screamed down the line for help. They wouldn’t be expecting somebody like me coming at them, though.
If I didn’t give her the phone, we were assured of a confrontation at some point. If I did… there was at least a possibility of calling them off. I handed her the phone.
“Hello? Yes. Yes, we are. I know. Yes, I understand. Everything is fine, just fine. He’s… really nice.” She glanced at me and blushed. “OK, I’ll be in touch if I need anything. Bye.”
She gave me her phone back and a nondescript black car pulled away at the next offramp. Bree shuffled a little closer to me and I draped my arm over her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I was glad she was onboard. Hell, she was more than onboard, she was in heat. There was no dilemma in her mind about whether she was going for her IFS payout or not.
Just thinking about the way her lips slid down the length of my cock, the whimpers she made when she came, and the raw pleasure of cumming all over her was enough to make me consider sealing the deal on the way to the airport. It was a powerful feeling. The sexiest girl on the planet wanted me to take her virginity, and I was maybe a day or two away from evening up the score on the most infuriating act of betrayal I’d ever experienced.
Revenge would be sweet. Almost as sweet as Bree herself.
When we returned to my house in Pulbridge, Bree’s eyes wandered everywhere, peeking into every room. Her hands trailed along the walls affectionately, as if caressing an old lover.
It was getting late now, and she had eaten on the plane, so I led her straight to her old room. It was just the way she left it, barring a few minor shifts in position that the cleaners might have made over the years, as well as whatever I displaced when going through the room searching for contraband. It would have been a bad idea to keep her in there if she had hidden a gun for some reason back when she lived here.
When I pushed the door open, Bree paused and even stopped breathing for a few seconds. Her hands came up and buried themselves in her hair. She looked incredibly relieved.
“Time to turn in for the night,” I said.
“OK.”
Given the way Bree had been behaving since I pulled that blindfold off, I didn’t think I needed to warn her, but just in case she’d been taking acting lessons for the last two years, I did anyway. “This house is still a fortress. Don’t try to escape, it won’t work. There’s no point screaming for help, I’ll be the only one who hears you.”
Bree shrugged and smiled. “I’m home.”
If she had been taking acting lessons, I’d personally track down her teacher and give them a Christmas bonus. Bree truly did seem right at home.
Still, I was not the trusting sort. Look where it got me with her mother.
I gestured into her room and Bree walked in, then turned around. It was so strange seeing her back there, with all her old stuff right behind her. Wearing far more casual clothing than when she’d arrived at the hotel in Hapford City, she looked like she might never have left.
“Goodnight, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
I closed the door and locked it, another minor change to her room that had recently been installed.
Back in my office, I sat in my chair and pushed the mouse around to turn the screens of my computer on again, then brought up some maps and street-level views of the address Bree had given me. I could already visualize myself there, feel Antonio’s jaw break under my fist.
Tomorrow night. If we left by mid-morning, I’d have his fucking throat in my hand by tomorrow night. I leaned back in my chair to start putting the pieces of my plan together, given the location of my prey.
Bree
It was pure luxury to slowly drift up through the layers of sleep, to become gradually more aware of the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept in, the peace that comes with thick, soundproofed walls with no drug addicts screaming on the other side of them. Somewhere outside my window I heard the faint chirping of some bird.
Ever since I was ripped out of my home, my life, two years ago, I thought I’d looked back on my time here with rose-tinted glasses. But I’d forgotten the full extent of how good I’d really had it.
Before I even opened my eyes, I rolled on to my back and let my hand drift across the covers. They were so soft, so warm. I took a deep breath through my nose. The smell! Everything was clean! The scent of freshly laundered linen, without the undertone of month-old bacon grease and dust drifting in from under my door, filled my nostrils. I never wanted to stop inhaling it.
Finally, I opened my eyes and fought off the sense of déjà vu. It was so weird to wake up to the sight of this room, to see the posters I put up on the wall myself, including a boy-band I didn’t even like anymore. My own moisturizers and make-up were on my vanity, exercise books and various items of stationery from my old school were on my desk, including half-finished homework that was years overdue now.
I sat up and then scooted up the bed so I could lean back on the headboard, pulling my knees up a little. Glancing at the door, I thought that cockroaches would be shot on sight if they turned up here, and smiled to myself.
I ran my fingers through my hair, which turned into a big reach-for-the-sky kind of stretch, and yawned. To my surprise, my jaw hurt a little and I brought my hands back down to massage the sides of my face.
Was that from having to open so wide for so long to give my first blowjob yesterday? Was that normal? Would it always happen?
I straightened my legs and swung out of bed, feeling the soft carpet under my toes. The floor didn’t creak under me and I didn’t even have to leave my room and navigate around Antonio’s mood to have a shower. My own en suite bathroom again!
After peeling off my pajamas, I caught sight of the light bruises on my ass cheeks. So much better than the bruises I’d worn over the last couple of years.
The water from the shower was as hot as I wanted and I knew from experience that it would never run out. By the time I came out, wrapped in a thick towel with no holes in it, I didn’t think I’d felt more rested and alive in living memory. The world was a completely different place to what it had been yesterday morning.
Andrew kept my luggage outside of the room, so I entered my old walk-in wardrobe and reminded myself what I had in there. After trying a few ensembles, it became clear that the selection wasn’t quite as extensive as it appeared. I’d grown a little taller and a lot fuller around the chest, so much of the clothes weren’t a comfortable fit, including all the bras.
I finally settled on a white tank top that was tight but stretchy and a plain black skirt that now came to just over my knees, along with the bra I’d changed into for the trip from Hapford to here. When I tested the door, I found it unlocked. Andrew must have done that while I was in the shower.
I poked my head out. “Hello?”
Andrew was nowhere in sight. I tentatively took a few steps out and when no alarms were set off, I started looking for him.
Rounding the doorway to the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. Laid out on the kitchen table was a selection of fruits, yogurts, cereals, toast and spreads. My stomach made a sound like “RAWRR!” and I pulled a chair out, accidentally scraping it noisily across the floor, and then sank into it like a dumbfounded sack of potatoes.
Every strawberry looked like it might have a modelling contract with an elite agency. The toast was somehow still hot and fresh, even though the person who had made it for me was nowhere to be seen.
I must have had a dopey-dreamy look on my face as I chewed, but I didn’t care. How could my mom have left this behind? It wasn’t the luxury or the decadence of it that I meant, it was the fact that Andrew thought to provide it for us.
I knew he didn’t like strawberries, and I knew he knew that I loved them. And here they were. Antonio could afford just as nice a breakfast for us as this with fifty million dollars, but he never had. Even before he quickly degenerated from a well-groomed government agent to the junkie he was today, no dice.
Footsteps approached. I put down my spoon and struggled to chew and swallow the mouthful of cereal and strawberry I had when Andrew walked into the room carrying a small stack of paper.
He held out his hand. “No hurry. Go ahead and finish.”
I did so, while he spread the papers out at the other end of the table. When I was done, he motioned me over.
It turned out to be maps of the area in a few different scales, mostly satellite and aerial imagery and one as a plain map, plus street views of the property from a few angles.
“So this is the place?” he asked.
“That’s it, yep.”
“Is my money in this house?”
“If it is, I’ve never seen it. I don’t think so,” I said.
“OK. Looks like it’s set back from the road a ways. Can you see the road from the house?”
“No. These trees and bushes and stuff are too thick.” I pointed at the green band that ran around the perimeter of the property.
“What about the driveway? You can’t see the road down there from the house?”
“No. The driveway kind of squiggles through the trees like this.” I drew an ‘S’ shape through the trees with my finger, starting at where you could see the entrance to the driveway by the roadside. “This is all completely flat and clear from the trees to the house though.” I added, hoping that was helpful.
“They live alone? Just the three of you?”
“Yes.”
“Ever have any visitors it’d be worth me knowing about. His friends in the FBI? Anybody important?”
“No, not really. He’s not in the FBI anymore, I suppose you knew that.”
“Yeah, my FBI contacts don’t have the clearance to crack open his witness protection file, but the rumor was he still has friends there that help him out with relocating whenever he gets spooked.”
“Sounds about right. They turn up and help us move. It seemed… kind of… informal, I guess is the best word I can think of. He’s really let himself go. I never see the money around the house, but he must still have it somewhere because he spends enough on drugs. Those are really the only visitors that come by, his dealers.”
“I’ve seen that before. People come into some money and drugs are about the only way they can spend it fast enough to make them feel like they’ve really made it.” Andrew set down another piece of paper. “This is a floorplan I managed to find from the last time that house was for sale. Is it still accurate?”
I looked at it and nodded. This was the kind of house you bulldozed, not renovated.
“Do you know if he keeps any guns stashed around the place?” Andrew asked.
“There’s one attached to the bottom of the kitchen table. Here.” I pointed. “I don’t know about anywhere else.”
“OK. Thanks. I think that’s all I need to know. I’m leaving in a few minutes. Anna-May will be looking after you while I’m gone. You remember her?”
Anna-May was the only woman on Andrew’s personal security team, a badass chick if ever there was one. But did he really think I was staying here?
“No… I mean, yes, I remember her, but no. I’m coming with you,” I said.
“The fuck you are.”
“The fuck I am.”
“I’m not sure you entirely grasp what’s going to happen here. What this little trip is all about.”
“I do. I really do. It’s personal. People are going to die. I understand. It’s personal for me too, Andrew.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
I slumped a little, took a deep breath and then pulled my lips into a tight line as I stopped to rethink how to start. When I let the breath out, I slumped even more, remembering how insignificant I’d been made to feel.
“Maybe it’s easier if I show you. Can I have my phone? I won’t try to call anybody.”
Andrew’s eyebrow raised, but he slowly pulled out two phones from his pocket. “Which one?”
“That one. The other one is from Ada for me to use just this week.”
He handed it over and stood close beside me to watch what I did with it. I unlocked it with my fingerprint and went into my photos, scrolling back towards that day a few months ago when Antonio had socked me right in the eye.
When I was getting close, I slowed down, taken by surprise by a sudden feeling of embarrassment and shame. I didn’t want anybody to see me like that, broken and beaten. I kept on going and my chest clenched up when I tapped the photo to enlarge it, then hurriedly gave the phone back to Andrew before I lost my nerve completely.
I couldn’t look at the pictures or his face as he swiped his way through the six photos I’d taken from various angles of the damage Antonio had done. All I could look at was my feet on the floor.
“That motherfucker,” said Andrew through clenched teeth.
“I took those photos in a moment of stupidity, thinking I’d go to the police or something. Then I came to my senses. He sort of is the police, you know? And they always said you might have some people working for you in various police departments too, and if I ever got so much as a second glance by a cop for loitering somewhere, you might find us and kill us.”
Andrew wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I let his protective strength surround me like a shark cage and buried my face against his chest.
“OK. I get it. You can come along and get some payback. I’ve been through your luggage, the most dangerous things in there are some of the clothes, so you can just bring that. You should only need two or three days’ worth of things to wear, but we’ll keep it simple and not repack. Let’s go.”
Andrew
Anna-May was waiting outside the front door, talking with another one of my employees, when Bree and I left the house. She gave me a quizzical look when she spotted Bree pulling her own suitcase behind her.
“Change of plan,” I said. “Bree is coming with me. Check in with Chris and help him out with whatever he needs for the Beamstown situation.”
“No problem,” said Anna-May, pulling out her phone and stepping away from the man guarding the front door so she could talk in peace.
I led Bree across to my garage. It was more than a garage, really, it was a borderline museum with the careful lighting and climate control to best preserve the exhibits. This was where I kept the cars that were too special to be daily drivers, or too old to be practical at all.
At the moment, every vehicle from the Model N Ford to the Bugatti Chiron was covered, and the only light came from the windows. I generally only had everything presented to the highest standard when I was entertaining guests that had an interest in cars and where such entertainment might make them more agreeable to whatever I wanted from them.
Bree looked from side to side as we walked, clearly curious about what was under the covers, teased by the gleaming black curves of the tires peeking out the bottom. She’d joined me in here a few times before, fascinated by the way you could see the advancement of engineering over the years in such a clear way. She had a great eye for that.
Today wasn’t the time to go wandering down automobile memory lane, though. There was only one car I was heading for.
All the way at the far end of the garage was, in my opinion, the greatest car in my collection. I put down my bag and carefully pulled the cover off the custom-built 1st Generation Chevy Camaro. It wasn’t the most expensive car in the room, or the oldest, but it had the most history.
The gun-metal-gray paintwork was revealed with a swoosh of material, and I heard Bree gasp. The handle of her suitcase clattered against the ground and when I turned to look at her, I saw she’d brought her hands to her mouth.
I couldn’t blame her. I kind of wanted to do the same thing whenever I saw Cammy myself. I may have felt that way because of the history, but Bree had that eye for engineering and she clearly remembered this one.
“You remember,” I said.
“Do I remember Cammy? Are you crazy?”
“You’ve come along for the ride the last two times Cammy and I hit the road, so I guess it’s fitting that you’re here for this one too.”
Bree’s brow furrowed. “We’re driving all the way?”
“Yep.”
“Surely she’s too pretty for this… job?”
I held my hands out, then let them drop. “You said it yourself. This is personal. There’s no more personal touch than having Cammy take us there. I never did tell you where she came from, did I?”
Bree shook her head.
“This car was custom-built for Don Mancini himself.”
“Don Mancini? From the movie, Mancini?”
“That’s the one. For some reason they changed the car in the movie to a Ferarri. I guess they thought it was more Italian. That also meant they couldn’t go into the true history of the car, they just said it was a customized Ferarri.”
“What’s the true history?”
“Well, the last year for the 1st Generation Camaros was 1969, but this car wasn’t done until 1972. Don Mancini worked with Chevrolet and his own team of designers and engineers for three years to get the car just right, to fit all the extra features into the shape he fell in love with, with a couple minor cosmetic tweaks. She was hand-crafted, she didn’t come together on an assembly line, and she’s been one of a kind ever since the day she was finished.”
Bree walked along the driver’s side, trailing her fingers lovingly along Cammy’s immaculate paintwork with a little smile on her lips. If she ever changed her mind about being an engineer, she could be the world’s most successful car model. I’d buy the car and the calendar every time.
