A Gathering of Clowns
Chapter 14 And The Ringmaster Watches From The Side
Emily stood still; it sounded like her father’s elevator was at work. Moving to the front of the house, she caught just a glimpse of a tall, it seemed, woman, before she disappeared around the line of foliage marking their yard’s boundary, and was lost from view.
Now, who could be visiting Daddy-dearest at this time of night, Emily wondered. It wasn’t like the man was social in any way. Maybe she should go up there now and barge in, demanding an audience with his greatness? No, she would wait a little longer. Let Daddy-kins lie quiet; she still needed to think over all that Chantico shared about the needles and shit. And that he sat out in that place every morning. Hmmmm, all that was interesting. And useful.
Emily headed to the kitchen as Downing came in her direction, his eyes diverted in subservience. But as he passed, Downing did something odd, he passed her a note. At first Emily wasn’t really tuned in to the situation but it occurred, suddenly to her, that this might be Downing’s way of alerting her to possible surveillance, going all CIA-mode like this. It would be just like Clown-man to be watching them. All of them.
Downing had continued on and then up the stairs to his room, clearly his purpose was the note. Emily entered the kitchen and took a bottle from the fridge, then poured some wine as Chantico came down the stairs to her. “May I get you anything?” the girl asked, coming close.
Emily pulled her in to kiss and cuddle a bit, before releasing her saying, “No, Chanty baby, you look after Mel-bel. I’m good.” The girl giggled, took something from the fridge as well and headed back upstairs. Emily realized it was almost midnight. Shit, where does the time go?
She proceeded to the library, then thought that if any room was bugged, it would be that one, and decided instead to head for the patio. At least out there she could smoke. She sipped some wine and lit a Lucky Strike, then spread Downing’s note on the glass table. It was brief but interesting, saying simply, “Ross knows about the other accounts.”
So, Emily pondered, Mr. Egg knows more than he shows. Well, maybe Mr. Humpty Dumpty will have a fall, she chuckled to herself, sipping some wine.
Ryland Ross settled into his spot in the baths. This was his only non-work activity, and he tried to get it in once a week. He was settled as usual, away from anyone else. He did not like physical contact; didn’t really like even being close to others, which was one reason he avoided elevators and buses. After the bath, he would allow his masseuse, a hefty Romanian woman named Ida, to pummel his pudgy body and that would be it; his physical contact for the week. Then it was a bracing shower and back to his work.
And with what Mr. Hawkins had him working at, he needed to stay sharp. He had never doubted his boss and benefactor, appreciating that his own wealth, and he was comfortably a millionaire, had come mostly through his dealings with Hawkins; who had been his main client for several years before becoming his exclusive one.
No, he knew where his bread was buttered and while he could retire if he chose, he liked his work, and he actually liked working for Stafford Hawkins. And he didn’t like to fail; but he really wasn’t sure what Mr. H. was up to these days. And why on earth wouldn’t he meet with his daughter? He couldn’t avoid it, not for ever. At that moment, however, the imposing figure of Ida loomed over the divider, letting him know it was his time. Ross nodded his egg-shaped noggin.
Folake had released Carman from her bonds, but not before giving her a different release, a lovely one; and now they lay together. “We should get ready for bed,” Carman murmured.
“I know,” Folake said, quietly. They lay, gently stroking each other’s arms.
“I mean, like soon,” Carman continued.
Folake sighed, “I know. Soon.” They lay quietly still.
“You liked Candace?” Carman asked, gliding her hand down the sloping belly and over Folake’s sex.
“Hmmmm, I did. She is, delicious. Too young for you, you know that, but still lovely to enjoy.”
“You think I should not be involved with her?”
“Oh no, no. Be involved. We do not have many opportunities in life to be with someone like Candace. Or Emily, for that matter. As long as you can control your heart, know what is possible and what is not, then you can enjoy. No, I want Candace to come back. I wish to enjoy her, watching you with her, and all of that. But, I know she likes you very much, so you must be careful.”
Carman sighed. “Love wasn’t always so complicated for me. There was a time I never gave feelings a thought; just did what I wished.”
“Ummm, yes, my sweet, the freedom of youth. But time closes us in; we cannot continue like we once did. That is just life. But with age comes understanding, and acceptance, and, even, contentment.”
Carman sighed again, “Yeah, unless you’re Stafford Hawkins. I don’t believe that man can find contentment.”
Folake chuckled. “I would agree; but he is not the only one. Hmmmm? Oh, by the way, you should meet with Emily again; just to be aware of what her plans are.”
“I agree, my mistress.” They both chuckled, then Folake rose and helped Carman from the bed and they headed to the bathroom.
Tad lay on Raisha’s couch. His leased Lamborghini had gone back to the dealership so he had no wheels, even if he wanted to go somewhere.
“So whadda’ we s’posed to do with him?” Brianna asked, regarding the unshaven and dozing form.
Raisha took a long hit of hash smoke and shrugged. “Keep him here. Keep him alive. Watch him and report back to the lady. Just like they say, bide our time.”
“Hmmm, what does that, like mean? How’d you bide time?” Brianna commented, Raisha shrugged. Brianna added, “Gimme a hit of that, hey.”
“Sure,” Raisha said, coughing with the strength of the smoke as she passed the pipe over. “It’s some good shit.”
“Maybe we should wake pretty boy and let him enjoy?”
“Nah, somethin’ happened to him; don’t know, but he’s not feelin’ good. Leave the mutha’ fucka’ be.” Raisha pronounced, leaning back on the cushion.
Friday morning, Candace Eiermann waited outside Carman’s office, having gotten there as soon as the building’s doors opened. Carman smiled at her as she arrived and motioned for the girl to follow into her office. As Candace closed the door, Carman put down her briefcase and embraced her, thinking she looked amazingly attractive today. They kissed carefully, aware of their lipstick.
“Do I look okay?” Candace asked, dressed in a stylish navy pants and jacket outfit.
“You look absolutely great, kid, Too great. I’d like to take that jacket and pants combo off right now, but I’ll control myself. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, to celebrate your first day?”
Candace’s face lit up. “Oh God, that would be sick. I’m all yours. TBH.”
Carman just smiled, not sure if having someone as tempting as Candace around was such a great idea. TBH.
Ross contemplated Downing with his mild gaze. “So, what is it that you are saying again?”
Downing consulted his notes and replied in his own mild way, “It’s just that there is money in Mr. Hawkins’s dealings that goes places I can’t find. I don’t care, one way or the other, but I do need to know, um, why.” Downing had taken Emily’s advice, and looked behind things.
Seven companies were clustered under Documart’s management framework. The parent company did not need to ‘run’ these companies, and they were diverse, from phone apps to electronic mall sales, but the finances were funnelled through the single entity, with Ross, Downing and Da Costa being the final authority.
Only when Downing did an online check, just out of curiosity, he found each of the companies had a separate bank account that was not under his view. It was frustrating that he could see their existence but could not find out anything else, even what branch.
This was not the eleven rogue accounts; Downing had known of their existence and purpose for years. But these new accounts, which he could see existed but could not access, were something different.
“If Mr. Hawkins wishes to have a hundred accounts it is not my business, in the end, but I do need to at least know of them,” Downing maintained, believing that Ross had this information; he just wasn’t sharing it; yet.
Ross rubbed his nose and then his prestigious dome. He of course knew of these accounts; he did not believe his boss did anything illegal with them, he was simply a secretive and somewhat paranoid man who liked to control things. He didn’t, for example, want everything open to the shareholders of Documart to view; and with what had transpired with his daughter, you could begin to understand why.
But Downing had a point; he was the company’s senior accountant, the one who presented financial statements. Why was he in the dark? Why indeed.
“Carman, hey babe, how’s life? Whose muff you munchin’ today?” Emily replied to her caller.
Carman paused, there was a slight edge to Emily’s teasing today, but she wasn’t going to react. She smiled, hoping the sentiment would travel to the young woman. “You know I enjoy munching yours, right?”
“Yeah, if you say so. How can I help you?”
“Well, I’m calling for a date, sweets. How’s that?”
Emily chuckled, “Hey, cool, lemme’ check my calendar. What’s your plan?”
“Ooooh, Saturday, big time. You going to put a move on me, hmmmm?”
Carman chuckled for real this time, “You never know. I’ll ply you with some wine first, how’s that?”
“Sounds like my kinda date? You pickin’ me up?”
“Yes, how’s seven-thirty sound?”
“Sounds good to me. Which one of us will be wearin’ the strap-on?”
“Emily.” Carman laughed out loud. “You’re incorrigible.” Then, not knowing why, she added, “I might be wearing a butt plug, though.”
Emily guffawed at that. “Now you’re just messing with my mind, Car-baby, but you have given me somethin’ to think about.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“You got it.”
After ending her call, Emily carried on upstairs. She had noted Melanie out on the patio and Chantico was vacuuming on the main level. Her father had left just before Carman’s call, so the upstairs was hers.
Now she entered the third floor bathroom and opened the cupboard. She looked at the box of syringes, there were at least forty. Wearing gloves, she removed two and took them, moving quickly back down to the second floor and her room, where she hid them with her underwear. So far, so good, she thought. It was just a matter of time.
Ryland Ross went back through his list; his numbers were recent, but they showed a concerning trend; Mr. Hawkins was creating some sort of mega-fund, funnelling money from other accounts into it. What was its purpose? He checked the ‘rogue’ accounts and they seemed to have been left alone. Whatever his boss was planning, he hadn’t shared it with anyone.
How much to share with Downing? How much to prod from the man himself? Ross rubbed his nose, contemplating.
“Uhnn; uhnn; uhnn; uhnn;” Carman was grunting rhythmically as Candace drove the dildo into her from behind. Folake was standing beside them, but tonight she was not watching idly. A more accurate description would be ‘uhnn, uhnn whack!’ as Folake brought the small wooden paddle down on Candace’s lovely, round and reddening ass every couple of thrusts.
After their dinner, in a modest restaurant a couple of blocks from the apartment, Carman had brought Candace back here. As Folake had watched, the two women stripped each other and paraded around before the dark, smiling woman, posing as she directed them. Folake then placed a leather harness around Candace’s firm, full, young breasts; they were the perfect type for this harness and Folake stood looking at them in appreciation for several moments.
She then attached a harness around the young woman’s waist and placed a seven-inch, dark brown dildo into it. This phallus also had a three inch stub that was inserted into the harness wearer’s vagina, and along with a protrusion that rubbed the wearer’s clit, this stub provided stimulation with each thrust. So both Candace and Carman were thus each aroused with the act.
Right now, as Folake paddled her ass, Candace’s eyes were closed, her mouth was open and she was in a world of her own and into a wonderful rhythm that clearly consumed her, with the steady, unconscious thrust of her hips against her partner’s ass. Slap, slap, slap, until she cried out, climaxing before Carman, who was close.
“I’m sorry,” Candace moaned, as she slumped over Carman’s back. “Oh my God. Ohhh. Mmmmm.” She mumbled, as Folake came to her assistance, slowly pulling the hard, rubber cock out of Carman and laying the lovely Candace on the carpet. Folake then positioned Carman’s pussy over Candace’s mouth. “Lick her, Candace. Bring her off,” Folake instructed, while unbuckling the harness and gently rubbing Candace’s still engorged vulva, as the girl lay and sucked her partner.
In a few moments, all was brought to a satisfying conclusion, with Candace and Carman then embracing as they lay on the floor; Folake looking on with a smile of benign appreciation, like a teacher viewing a student’s project.
Basel, Switzerland (French/Swiss border) – 2009
The wealthy American was shown into Dr. Haener’s office. The doctor, who could easily play one of those mad scientists found in sci-fi movies; mop of white hair and dark round glasses (he was even wearing a lab coat) rose from his desk to greet the man, his mild accent slightly apparent.
“Goot day, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Good day to you sir; please accept my apology, I do not shake hands.”
“Understood, thank you zir. Kindly take a zeat.”
The room had a ‘hospital’ feel; not surprising considering they were in the Haeners/During Clinic for Aging, and it was accentuated by the abundance of white. Outside was the white skimming the heights of the Alps; inside were white curtains, white carpet and white leather chairs. When Haener’s nurse/assistant returned with tea, she was dressed all in white, apart from her bright red lipstick, which stood out in the room.
“Und zo, you are interested in our project?” Haener began, removing his glasses to wipe them, a recurring gesture.
Hawkins regarded the man; he had flown several thousand miles to hear him, but he would not be rushed. “I am interested, yes. There is, of course, much skepticism with your work.”
Haener waved away the skepticism with his hand, as if it were but a fruit fly. “Everything new has its skeptics, Mr. Hawkins. You, yourself, know zis first hand. I have read of zome of your innovations, emails being sent to cell phones for example, that vere questioned at first. Ve must deal with this as… creators.”
Hawkins nodded. “Yes, sir, we must. But I deal with convenience and communication. You deal with, well, life itself. That’s far more likely to receive harsh comments and rejection.”
The good doctor nodded his head, the noble martyr at work, before saying, “Vell, to be precise, ve deal not vith life, but with the unacceptable loss of living zat ve call aging. That is not quite the zame.”
“Just so,” Hawkins replied, smiling a mirthless smile.
“But,” said the good doctor, “please join me in tea. It is Lemon Grass; we have it flown in from Tibet.”
Emily and Carman sat across from each other in the library. They had wine and the evening sun was throwing shafts of light across the plush carpet between them. Emily was wearing her usual smirk; Carman was feeling a little restrained; things had changed.
“So,” Emily began, “got that plug in there, sweets?”
Carman laughed. “Actually, no. I said that to tease you, because you’re such a tease.” She sipped her wine.
Emily nodded her head, “Would you wear one if I asked?”
“Maybe, I’d need to see it first,” she smiled.
“Ooooh, listen to the pro. What’s been happening in Carman’s life?” Emily purred. She actually didn’t know, for sure; she’d heard…things. But she knew that Carman was involved with someone; that part was easy to read. Yet, here she was. Why? “So any news on the Darth Hawkins front?”
Carman snorted, “You are a nut, Em.” She shook her head slowly. “Well, your daddy-dear has kept me busy with selling off things. I don’t think he realizes that the companies have employees that need to be sorted out. I’ve kept my assistant busy.”
“Hmmm. Is he still spooked? Watching me like a…hawk?” She smiled.
Carman returned the smile. “I can’t figure out the deal with you and him, Em. It’s a mystery. I’m not sure even he knows.” She paused, considering. “You might be interested in this. He, um, did bring a woman down to, well, punish someone. It couldn’t have been you or anyone standing in for you. The woman told me it was to be a man.” Carman paused again, looking at Emily who was clearly interested. “But, it ended up being…me.” Carman sipped her wine, eyes down.
Emily sat up straight. “Daddy-dear brought down a pro to, uh, fucking punish someone? Who?”
“Like I said, a man.”
“Well, fuck; that doesn’t give many options. It wouldn’t be just some assistant. And she ended up punishing you? How the Hell does that work?”
Carman looked steadily across at Emily. For the first time that evening she was beginning to feel arousal. “It was a choice; accept the punishment, which was whipping with a cane, or take my severance and leave.”
“Holy Shit!” Emily exclaimed. “That’s nasty. And he had you cane-whipped? That smarts. Fuck. How’d you do?”
Carman continued to stare at Emily, her heart beating now, her breathing speeding up. “I did okay, actually. I, um, didn’t, well, mind it so much. In fact,“ she sipped some more wine, “I ended up moving in with the woman. She’s my, um, partner who you’ve wondered about.”
It was Emily’s turn to sit and stare. “Holy Fuck.” She said.
She seemed to be saying that a lot lately.
Carman took the elevator up to the fourth floor; her time with Emily had been enjoyable, and she had felt arousal when relaying her new situation, but in the end it was decided that she head home. As the elevator made its way up, she considered her feelings. Part of her, she had to admit, would have enjoyed staying with Emily; that was the part that was feeling disappointment.
But the other part of her, the larger part, simply wasn’t comfortable with that happening. It was hard enough sorting out her new feelings for Candace and her submission to Folake, without including Emily in the mix.
When Carman entered the apartment, she saw the back of a naked woman and the face of Folake, sitting with her legs spread wide; the woman’s head was clearly between her thighs. Folake opened her eyes and smiled, then motioned Carman over. She could now see that the woman was Gina the house wife. Gina’s ass was nicely reddened so she had obviously enjoyed some of Folake’s handiwork.
“Ah my dear, I wasn’t sure you would make it home, but I am delighted. Gina’s husband is away so I am using her tonight. She has agreed to be my slave for the evening, so undress and join us.” Carman did that and in a moment her head was beside Gina’s, both women kissing and licking Folake’s thighs and vagina, one of Folake’s hands on each of their heads.
Emily sat out on the patio in the darkness, her mind churning. The conversation with Carman, confession was more like it, aroused and depressed her. She would like to punish Carman, would enjoy it very much, but she knew that the woman was lost to her, at least for now.
However, she was also deep in thought over Carman’s comments about the woman who had come down to do Daddy-dearest’s naughty business; punish someone. What the Hell? And it was a man she came for; and damn it, the only man who made sense, was darling Drew.
As Emily lit her cigarette, she smiled; they hadn’t had a session with Drewsie today because of her ‘date’, and other things, saying they would have ‘some fun’ on Sunday.
Well, now it was fun with a purpose; Uncle Drew had more stories to tell.
Stafford Hawkins waited as Chantico entered his office, then came around his desk to deposit his tray of boiled eggs, dry toast and weak tea before him. “Thank you my dear,” he murmured.
In her shower, Folake bent forward slightly, allowing Gina easier access as the woman diligently cleaned her back and buttocks, before kneeling and washing between her ‘mistress’s’ thighs. “Ummm, that feels so nice, my dear,” she murmured.
Now downstairs in the house in Adams Hill, Emily Hawkins adjusted the wrist straps holding Drew Downing to the wooden ‘slave cross’; it was new and she was trying it out for the first time.
She knelt, adding two more weights to the cluster already attached by a clip to the man’s testicles. They were pulling his sack down obscenely, and Emily set them to swinging, back and forth, Downing moaning and twisting on the X-cross. She then took the candle burning beside them and held the flame under Downing’s balls. The bound, gagged and blindfolded victim immediately began to squirm and twist in his straps, like a tiger in a net, making animal noises.
“Awwww, Unca Drewsie doesn’t like having his nut sack burned by a candle. Poor Unca Drewsie,” Emily sang and Chantico, free of her tasks for Hawkins Sr., hooted with laughter.
Emily often made her laugh.
At Raisha’s apartment, Brianna wasn’t happy. “For fuck’s sake,” she fumed, “the asshole has puked all over himself.”
Raisha came to stand and look at him. “C’mon. We’ll drag him in the shower and just let it run.” And they did.
“What a useless prick,” Brianna noted.
Candace, running in Griffith Park, slowed her jog down to a walk and adjusted her iPhone, picking a quieter mix. She was trying but having a hard time not thinking about Carman. How can it be, she wondered, that someone I didn’t even know existed last month is now killing me? She started to jog again, deciding to call after she was finished. Maybe they could meet for a coffee.
Melanie closed up her book as Emily came in and grabbed a glass of orange juice. They exchanged hellos and then Emily headed back to the ‘spare room’; that wasn’t so spare anymore. Melanie went back to her book; she didn’t want to know what was happening in there.
In his large house only a few blocks from his boss, Ryland Ross stepped from the shower, towelling his head. Sometimes not having to worry about hair made life easier.
And in her little apartment, Becky Flagg, who had begun sneaking tapes and film collections out to study at home (as she knew she was being watched) saw something interesting. She would give Emily a call later to discuss; maybe they would get together.
The fortune teller was always popular at the circus; people having fun with their futures.
But for several members of Glendale, not having a fortune teller handy today was not a bad thing.
Who knows how happy many of them would have been, to look very far down the road this pleasant Sunday morning.
(End of Chapter 14)