A Castle of Sand by LongDarkRoad
Chapter 13 Lay Lady Lay
“…why wait any longer for the world to begin, you can have your cake and eat it too…”
“You want me to call who, dear?” Virginia asked, looking up from her newspaper.
“The new girl in Dad’s office, her last name is Callister.”
Virginia studied her daughter, but she was never an easy read. “And invite her here for dinner, tonight? Why for heaven’s sakes?”
Beverly strolled over and stood behind her mother, before reaching around and grasping both breasts. As instructed, Virginia was wearing a soft bra with an underwire that provided support but still was thin enough to allow Beverly to feel and grasp the nipples, which she did now. Virginia cried a muffled gasp, but continued to hold her newspaper. “I’m thinking you want me to get out the hairbrush, don’t you, Mommsy? Missing those old days with Rhonda?” Beverly crooned.
Virginia swallowed hard. “It’s okay, Beverly, I’ll do what you want. I’m sorry for my, ah, disobedience.”
Beverly ran her tongue down the side of her mother’s face, before whispering, “Go to my room, lie on the bed and have your skirt raised for when I get up there. We won’t need to wait ‘til Daddy gets home, will we?” She chuckled.
Virginia sighed and put down her paper, then stood and headed upstairs. Half an hour later, her backside reddened and with Beverly listening on the extension, Virginia reached the office of ‘the crew’ and spoke with the young woman; and it was arranged. She would be there for six.
Beverly smiled as she placed the receiver back, thinking this could be fun. She still wanted to know what Anne was after, though; ‘a favor for a friend’; yeah, right.
* * * *
Beverly answered the door, as both her mother and Martha were getting dinner ready. She looked up slightly into a beautiful face, set off with glossy brunette hair. “Christine, hello.” She said, with slightly more enthusiasm than usual.
“Um, Beverly? Nice to meet you,” Christine held out her hand and instead of shaking it, Beverly held it and led her guest into the dining room and large kitchen, introducing her to the two women.
Dinner itself was a touch awkward to begin with, the two Silverbergs knowing next to nothing about their guest, but Virginia was skilled in these social situations and before long had Christine sharing life in Glenn Rock and her decision to come to Washington. Beverly was even inspired to chat, briefly, about her travels through Europe and beyond after her graduation.
“I’ve been home a year or so,” she said.
They retired with whiskey and coffee into the living room, although whiskey was not something Christine ever drank. After her ‘Tequila evening’, however, she found the whiskey not too challenging after all.
After an hour or so, Virginia left the two young women alone. Christine had accepted a second whiskey, thinking she shouldn’t but not wanting to offend, and was feeling a little mellow as Beverly moved closer to her on the couch. “So, what’s it like, workin’ for the old man?” Beverly asked with her usual smirk.
Christine laughed, “I wouldn’t call him that,” she said. She then added that he was, the little time she had been with him, thoughtful and pleasant. “He doesn’t really seem like a, well, boss, um, boss, if that makes sense.”
Beverly smiled and nodded. “Makes sense.” She regarded the very desirable woman for a moment, then asked, “Have you had sex with him?” Christine almost choked on her sip of whiskey. “I’m thinking, no,” Beverly laughed as Christine recovered. She moved again, so that their two bodies were now touching, noticing Christine look down and then up, almost shyly. The young woman, older than she was but still young, did not move away or comment. Beverly leaned over and kissed the wonderful, soft lips, breathing in Christine’s fragrance.
When they separated, Christine asked, “Is your mother, um…”
“She won’t be doing anything, don’t you worry,” Beverly murmured. As she was speaking, she had unzipped Christine’s dress and slipped it off her shoulders, meeting no resistance. For her part, Christine felt the power of this girl and within her sex, the sense that pleasure awaited; she knew it, and she would let things take their course.
Beverly regarded the round breasts held within the white bra. She bent forward and kissed the flesh just above the garment’s edge, and then kissed Christine’s neck.
Slipping off her shirt, and revealing she was not wearing a bra, Beverly moved Christine’s face down to her own modest breasts and the lovely woman closed her mouth on each round orb in turn, softly biting the engorged, pink nipples, before hungrily sucking Beverly’s mouth.
“C’mon,” Beverly said with a smile, and took Christine by the hand, leading her upstairs to her room.
* * * *
“So, this is a weird life, Laverne, if I can be cool with you?”
“How so?” Laverne asked, her face nestled into the crook of Anne’s neck as they lay naked on the large bed in the guest room. She hadn’t used her and Frank’s bed for any of their love-making; it just didn’t seem, right.
“Well, never knowing when your husband will be here? You just go on living your life, buying groceries, watching television, making out with boss chicks…”
Laverne laughed, “Yeah, that latest thing there is new, but pretty amazing.” She paused. “It is a, special life, a privileged life I guess you could call it, being helpful to my husband’s ambitions and everything; but it is lonely. I could hang out with the wives of other government people, but I don’t really feel close to anyone.” She regarded Anne, “Until now.” She smiled.
Anne smiled too. “But no word on how long the man’s gone for?”
Laverne paused. “I actually got a telegraph yesterday saying at least a while longer, but Frank believes he will be back late next week. They want to be in Washington for the moon landing.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. A man on the moon, that blows your mind, huh?” Laverne nodded and Anne added, “So, I can still camp out for a bit?”
Laverne grinned, “I love having you here, Anne. Love it. Oh, I’m doing some shopping tomorrow, anything special for dinner?” They had managed to work around the cook so far; it had been sort of a game.
“Naw, you spoil me, lady. Just surprise me.” In her mind, however, Anne now planned to do some ‘looking’ with Laverne away; she hadn’t had a chance to use the keys, yet.
* * * *
Christine paid the taxi and headed up the sidewalk to the set of stairs, feeling, very good. All those years she had never experienced a woman’s warm tongue on her labia and clitoris; wasted years, she pondered.
She would have let Miss Devers do ‘it’; she wanted her to. She had sat blindfolded, listening to her mother pleasure the woman, aroused but unable to do anything about it.
“Lick, sinful whore,” Devers’s honeyed voice had commanded, usually followed by a slap, as her mother’s naked buttocks were struck. “It is true, the flesh is weak. You are weak Eleanor; weak.”
Christine would imagine the scene, but she desperately wanted it to be her on her knees, as weak as Eve.
And she had given that up for Brian, and his boring, repetitive sex, that had provided Christine with absolutely zero pleasure; not even real companionship. She was certain Mr. Silverberg would be a much better lover; if he was anything like his daughter; Christine had to smile.
As she entered the house, Lana came from the kitchen to stand with a small smile on her lips, “So, how was dinner?” she asked, pleasantly.
Christine did not even ask how Lana knew; she had not spoken with her. The woman was like a spy.
“Did you have me followed?” Christine laughed.
Now it was Lana that took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. When they were settled, Christine gave Lana a complete summary, including the time in Beverly’s room.
“You have a very popular, pussy.” Lana smirked.
Christine chuckled, thinking how many people she had been, intimate with, since coming to Washington; coming being the operative word. “Yeah, it’s weird, thinking of all those years I was in, um, hibernation sort of, like a field, um, laying fallow.”
Lana smiled. “I get it. And you’re from a farming community; I’m sure they talk about ploughing the furrow; you were fallow, and now your furrow is being ploughed, really good.” They both laughed out loud at that, before Lana continued, “But you have both men and women involved with you, so you’ve had more experience in your short time than a lot of women have in their entire lives; you know that, hey.”
Christine nodded and then replied, “Yeah, and thanks for not using that ‘f’ word; I still think it’s ugly. You know, it’s, um, weird with the men. I don’t feel anything when I’m doing it with them. It’s almost not real. It’s like I’m in a movie; there’s something inside me but it’s nothing, well, important. I’m focused on my, mistress, watching me. That is, until the stuff comes in my mouth, which I don’t like; that’s real. Ugh.” She smiled.
Lana sat in thought for a while, the ticking of the large, kitchen wall clock the only sound. “Have you thought any more on Madame Dhang’s, request?”
Christine shifted on her chair. “I, um, need to know more. This is all new to me; I’m already doing all that she wants, right. Although she has requested I buy, um, a dog collar.”
Lana snorted and shook her head in wonder. Then she studied the enchanting face across form her for a few seconds; does she even know how beautiful she is, crossed her mind. After a few more seconds of sitting, Lana asked, keeping her voice conversational, “Christine, do you think, your, um, mistress is right? That you are, a whore?”
Christine looked steadily into the equally enchanting face sitting, smiling, two feet from her. Lick, sinful whore, she remembered. “I think, I might be; ummm, maybe,” she murmured, feeling both shame and, something; what does being a whore really mean? She wasn’t out walking the streets.
She shrugged and looked away. “But I am going to buy the collar. I want to.” She shook her head in wonder.
* * * *
“Hello?” Virginia answered, expecting a call for Douglas, who was home tonight, but she was surprised when it was Anne’s voice, greeting her and then asking for Beverly.
“How are you?” Virginia asked.
“I’m good, Mommsy. Been busy; working if you can believe it.”
In a moment, Beverly was on the phone; checking first to see who might be around. She saw her father sitting at his desk reading some documents. Martha was in the kitchen and Virginia was back in the living room, watching the television.
“Okay, Anne-the-mysterious, I met Miss Callister yesterday, so now you can get off my case, Perry.”
“Hey, thanks.” Anne chuckled, “No seriously, I promise not to bug you again. So, what’s your take on the gal?”
Beverly lit a smoke and sat on a stool, “Well, I don’t have a clue what interest your, um, ‘friend’ might have in the woman, except maybe to bang her. She’s a classic sex pot, sweetie. I mean a real fox; I am not exaggerating. But she’s sweet and naïve, Anne, and there’s no way she was trying to do a number on me. It just isn’t in her.”
“Or maybe she did a real, good number on you?”
Beverly paused, “Well, I’m not buying that, I’m tellin’ you straight up, this gal is just a farm girl from Pennsylvania. Believe me or not, that’s your call.”
“Hey, Bev, don’t get frosted, okay. I’m not putting you down and I really appreciate you taking time for this. I do. Did the chick mention anything about, um, Korea?”
Beverly paused, where was this going? “Uh, nope, Korea never came up in our conversation; oh, wait, she did mention that she’s helped host a couple of events and I think one was for Korea; there you go. You know, if you were interested in, um, Korea, you shoulda’ told me…”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Hey, thanks again, I owe ya’ one, check?”
“Check. Oh, by the way, they’re, Christine and my father and some others, like going down to Sheridan Point this weekend for something.”
* * * *
Anne sat now in thought; yesterday had been a productive day. In the morning, after Laverne had gone off shopping, Anne had gone to Frank May’s office and tried the keys, all of them worked; the wall safe was another matter. It was clear, because it was a high-end model, it would definitely need the expert to crack the code.
Anne had then spent an hour carefully sorting through files and photographing a number of pages, using up her film. She was then able to get to her drop-off spot, leave the film and get back before Laverne returned. In the evening Laverne had prepared a wonderful meal for her. And now Beverly had at least made a contact of sorts with the apparently lovely Miss Callister. Yes, a productive day.
Like Beverly, Anne was not sure why this seemingly innocent ‘farm girl’ would be of interest to the Soviets, when it was a Korean connection. Oh well, she thought, heading out to meet the taxi that would take her back to Laverne’s, it wasn’t her job to worry about the why.
* * * *
Thursday afternoon, with Christine finding it difficult to concentrate, her mind on what tonight might bring, Arlene came to her to say that Julia Sullivan wished to see her.
Why this always caused her anxiety, Christine didn’t know; she considered herself an optimistic person, but being summoned like this always affected her.
“This came for you,” Sullivan said, handing Christine a large, brown-paper wrapped parcel.
“It’s a dress, for my, um, meeting with Dhang’s friends tonight,” Christine said quietly.
“Yes, I guessed that, but here’s a note.” Sullivan handed Christine an envelope which she opened and found a message from Madame Dhang. It read, “Whore; change of plans. From work go to the Hay-Adams hotel (where she’d had her special ‘lunch’, Christine recalled with a smile) and ask for Miss Carson, who will take you to the room where you can change; then wait in the lobby. My friends will meet you there at five-thirty and you will dine with them. Serve well. HD.”
Christine looked at Sullivan, “Could I pick the parcel up before I leave; I don’t want to have to explain it,” she said and Sullivan nodded.
She added, “The couple, by the way, are Mr. and Mrs. Yee. He’s an engineer and she’s a lawyer, both here in Washington, so I’ll of course need to meet with you later. I’ll probably just chat with you quietly Friday at the dinner.” They stood for a moment, then Sullivan asked, “How’d dinner go, over at the boss’s?”
“Pleasant, if, um, a little…”
“Weird?” Sullivan dead-panned.
“Yeah,” Christine nodded, then smiled, as Sullivan sat, just looking at her. “Is, um, there anything else, Mrs. Sullivan?”
The woman tilted her head to one side, “You are good, with what you’re doing for Miss Dhang?” Sullivan herself knew the role sex played in politics, but still had something of a struggle with understanding this young woman.
“Um, what do you mean?” Christine deflected, looking down at her hands, and picturing herself again on her knees before this woman. Sullivan was plain-looking and nothing like Dhang, or any of the other attractive woman she had been with; but the woman was compelling in her own way, at least to Christine.
Sullivan seemed to make up her mind about something, then sighed, “Nothing really, Miss Callister. We’ll talk Friday.”
Christine nodded and turned, then headed back to her office, the anxiety lessened but not gone.
* * * *
Noting the wonderful fragrance once again, Christine strode to the hotel lobby desk and asked “Miss Carson?” In a moment a young woman in a navy blue jacket and skirt came briskly out, nodding at Christine and saying, “This way.”
Soon they were riding up in the elevator, and heading to the fifth floor, silent due to the presence of the elevator operator.
The room was a luxurious one and Carson entered with Christine, and looked at her quizzically. “You haven’t worked here before, have you?”
Christine was not certain what this meant but she did respond that she had lunched here a short while ago. “I’m with the Commerce Department,” she said, then immediately wondered if she should have said anything.
“Hmmmm,” the dark-haired young woman said, looking up into Christine’s face. “That is interesting. Um, I’m not sure about what is happening, but my instructions were to watch you get changed and then we’re going back down. Um, does that make sense?”
They then both stood awkwardly, before Christine placed the parcel on the bed and began unwrapping it. Inside was a black garter, black nylons, see-through black-lace bra, black evening dress, black high-heels, a twenty dollar bill and a package that contained a jade necklace and ear-rings. Carson took the wrapping paper from her as Christine began to undress.
Carson alternated between gazing at Christine and looking away with mild embarrassment. When Christine was finished, her own clothes stored in the dresser, she stood before Miss Carson. The woman looked up at her and murmured, “You are, um, gorgeous. My God.” She sighed, then said, “Well, back down we go.”
The ride down was just as silent as the ride up had been, and in a minute, Christine was seated and waiting in the lobby. Carson was now back behind the lobby desk, and when Christine looked at her, she held the gaze for several seconds, then smiled.
Christine, meanwhile, was feeling a growing desire. Undressing for Carson had excited her; she’d wished the woman had touched her. Now, waiting for her ‘guests’, the arousal was building. What would they be like? What would they want to do to her?
Looking up, she saw two people heading her way; both late thirties, the man clearly Korean but the woman with him was not; she was white.
* * * *
Anne sat on the bench and took her time with her cigarette. When she was finished, she strolled past bench three, dropping to one knee, grabbing the envelope and then moving on, stuffing the object down the back of her jeans.
She didn’t open it until she was home. She had already told Laverne that she had a job, which was partly true; (she was working Saturday) but that she would be over on Sunday. She needed a break from the woman, mostly because of the growing feelings that were developing. She liked Laverne, and in Anne’s line of business, the heart could be more deadly than the knife.
She read over the notes; lots of great stuff on her film; her superiors were happy. And they had opened a file on Christine Callister; more to come on that.
* * * *
Christine sat on the edge of the bed, naked. She needed a moment to just collect herself. The Yees, George and Paulette, had just left, and the evening was replaying itself in Christine’s mind.
They had gone into the hotel’s elegant restaurant, sitting at a back, corner table, with Christine at the back of that. They had been seated for less than a minute when Paulette had Christine lift her dress to reveal her shaved vagina. The dress remained raised, and Christine exposed, throughout the meal.
When their waitress, a slim woman in her twenties with long, blonde hair (someone the Yees had requested specifically) came to their table, she was greeted warmly. She was then told to place Christine’s wine glass between the woman’s thighs, causing the server to redden slightly, but she still filled the glass as directed, before placing it back on the table.
Throughout the meal, Paulette and then the server, Helen, took turns fondling the thick labia, as George sat with a grin on his face. For her part, Christine, rather than being embarrassed, grew aroused and by the time the meal was over and the three were heading upstairs, she was ready for whatever.
Over the next hour, Christine sucked both husband and wife while the partner fucked her from behind; George had flashed the condom with a grin when they entered the room.
Paulette Yee attached a kind of belt arrangement around her waist and then fastened a four-inch long metallic tube to this, which she used in both of Christine’s holes, screwing her more aggressively in fact than her husband had.
George had not lasted long and spent most of the hour sitting in an armchair and grinning as he watched his wife and their ‘date’. Paulette had experienced what appeared to be a strong orgasm and then whispered to Christine, “I will take care of you, sweet whore.”
She then fucked her from behind as they lay side by side, Christine’s back to Paulette, who reached around and expertly fondled Christine’s engorged clit.
From the moment the woman’s gentle touch began on her sensitive organ, Christine knew she would ‘climb her mountain’. And she did, ending with a sweet, leg-shaking climax that had both Yees chuckling.
“Good job,” George called from his chair, actually clapping his hands.
Later, as Paulette reached up to kiss Christine, she handed her two envelopes, asking, “Are you Madame Dhang’s whore?”
Christine hesitated for only a moment. “I am,” Christine murmured into the woman’s ear.
“Are you available for other, engagements?”
Christine paused, feeling conflicting emotions, “You need to speak with my, mistress,” she said obediently.
“Of course. Bye for now.” Both Yees then left, George
Still grinning broadly and nodding.
One envelope contained a message; the other, sealed, clearly contained money. The message instructed Christine to take the clothes to Miss Carson, but she was free to keep the earrings and necklace, which impressed her as they seemed expensive.
She stood up from the bed and considered; maybe she could have her cake and eat it too, like they say. Serve her mistress and still find pleasure within herself? Miss Dhang’s whore.
Clearly she was. Miss Dhang’s whore, Brian Sturm’s steady, somebody’s wife; was there a difference in the end? This relationship at least did something powerful to her, of that there was no doubt.
Downstairs she found Miss Carson, who stated she had ordered a cab when Christine had called, and then took the clothes and went down a little hallway. In a minute she was back and stood, looking at Christine.
“What?” Christine asked with a smile.
Carson stood, now slowly shaking her head. “I’m just trying to figure you out,” she said quietly.
“Why?” Christine asked, still smiling; the dinner wine and her orgasm had mellowed her; she felt very good.
Carson sighed, “You are one of the most beautiful women to come through those doors, at least as long as I’ve worked here. Yet you do, this.”
“What, exactly, is this?” Christine asked, enjoying this conversation for some reason, not dwelling on the changes in her from that girl who stepped off the bus not so long ago. Christine simply reacted, finding this pretty and pert; smart and intelligent woman interesting.
Now Carson became a little flustered, but before she could say anything, Christine asked, “Madame Dhang has paid you well, I’m guessing?”
Carson looked at her shoes for a moment and nodded. “Well, then don’t sweat it, as my friend Margie would say.”
“Just a minute,” Carson murmured, heading off again. She returned in a moment and handed Christine a slip of folded paper, and then scuttled off.
Christine opened it; it said ‘Amy’ and then a phone number. Christine wanted to chase after the girl, but her taxi had just pulled up.
Some nagging feeling tried then to push its way in, but Christine fended it off efficiently and headed for her ride.
(End of Chapter 13)