A Gathering of Clowns
Let’s Hear It For The Lady With The Spinning Plates
Friday morning, and Carman Da Costa was to meet Hawkins in his office; she knew he was interested in her trip to the Times. But first she had been directed to come to room eighteen-twelve, one floor below the Documart offices. She had an idea what this was about, but she wasn’t certain until the door opened and the dark brown face of Folake (Fo-laké) Alvarez appeared, greeting her with that attractive accent, “Ah, Ms. Da Costa, do come in.”
They entered the spacious and tastefully decorated suite; the first time Carman had been in one. There were three suites on this floor, side by side; Hawkins was living in the third one, although he had mentioned to Ross that he would be going home soon.
Alvarez sat on a wooden dining chair with a straight back; she was wearing a tailored outfit that accentuated her slim frame.
“So, Ms. Alvarez, I am not sure why we are to meet.” Carman stood and regarded the woman.
Alvarez smiled and her teeth were a brilliant white against the dark skin, “I believe you do know, Ms. Da Costa. Mr. Hawkins needs, um, assurances, and I am the check-up doctor.” She smiled that brilliant smile again.
Carman felt a growing alarm, not liking the sound of this. “Mr. Hawkins has not mentioned anything to me.”
At that moment, Alvarez called a number on her cell, listened for the response and handed the device to Carman. When she answered, it was Hawkins on the other end. After their brief conversation, she handed the cell back to Alvarez and waited. “What do you have to say to me, Ms. Da Costa,” the woman purred.
For a moment, a wild moment certainly, Carman pondered giving up her one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollar a year job, with share benefits, and telling Hawkins and his bitch here to go fuck themselves. But that passed. A little humiliation was not too much to bear; she needed to stay focused on her big picture.
“I will cooperate with you, Ms. Alvarez.”
“You will do what I say?”
Pause. “I will do, what you say.”
“You deserve punishment?”
Carman swallowed hard, but looked the woman in the face. Fuck her. “I, deserve punishment.”
“Undress and get on your knees. That is the way it will be anytime we have, a session. I will not need to tell you again, are we clear?”
“Yes,” Carman murmured as she undressed and in a moment was on her knees. Alvarez had her crawl to her and rub her face against her shoes. Then Alvarez tied Carman’s hands behind her, placed tape over her mouth, and paddled her ass until Carman was squirming and tears were oozing from her eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them back.
After the spanking, and still on her knees, Carman felt the woman’s mouth on her pussy, sucking and licking, and in a moment the woman’s slender fingers began stoking and probing. And so it went, Alvarez being very skillful and Carman being very aroused, so the orgasm was not a surprise; perhaps the intensity was.
Alvarez, still clothed, removed the tape and undid the rope, then brought the naked Carman to the couch and sat with her in silence for several minutes.
When Alvarez kissed her, Carman responded, in spite of her resentment. The kissing became passionate, and in a few minutes Alvarez was naked and Carman was grinding her pelvis against the woman’s dense, trimmed pubic patch. Alvarez’s orgasm was not unexpected, but Carman was greatly surprised by her second one, and the feeling of intense peace that settled over her afterwards. The two women lay together for several minutes before Alvarez, speaking in a hushed voice, asked Carman to join her for dinner tonight. Whatever emotions she had felt before ‘the session’ had been replaced; Carman unclear why, but she accepted Alvarez’s proposal.
As Carman opened the door to leave, Alvarez said, “I’ll send the car for eight.”
Carman allowed herself a small smile, “See you then.”
Emily’s heart was pounding. She was usually very laid back and unruffled; not much could really fuss her, but this was. She was parked out front of a senior’s residence and inside was a Magdalene Vargas. How she had come across this was a bit of luck, although she had been searching now for months. It seemed, likely; really likely, that this Vargas was the mother to Alex.
As she walked up the sidewalk Emily felt like she might simply explode. Please, please, she prayed to herself. Please.
Da Costa stood and waited behind her line, although she no longer was required to wear the mask. Hawkins finished what he was doing and spoke. “So, you learned something yesterday?”
Carman paused, sorting out her information. “Yes, your daughter is trying to find out about her mother, sir.”
“Hmmmm.” Hawkins pondered. That really wasn’t surprising. Hawkins acknowledged that he was a pitiful father. He had no delusions. And he had told his daughter nothing about her mother. He had thought of it, now and then, but had taken the easy way out and avoided it. “Did she, find anything?”
“I believe she found a picture taken at your wedding, sir.”
Hawkins pondered this. “Thank you, Ms. Da Costa. Keep looking and listening.”
“Very good, sir.”
As she turned to leave, Hawkins continued. “Ms. Alvarez has informed me of your, cooperation. I value that, Ms. Da Costa. Your role here is safe. I have in fact drawn up another one year contract for you, with increased salary and bonuses of course, as a sign of my appreciation. Just keep up the, dedication.”
“Yes, sir,” Da Costa murmured and left. She went to the executive washroom and washed her face with cold water for several minutes. This was madness.
Emily was standing, lost in thought, when Melanie came up to her quietly. “Do you want to see them?” she asked.
“What?” Emily responded, shaken from her reverie.
In a few minutes, the two women, Melanie with Chantico’s set of keys, including the keys for Stafford’s rooms (why hadn’t she thought of that before?) were heading up to the third floor.
“He kept them in the room beside his. Although it’s been ten years anyway. He just showed me them that once, and then seemed to regret it. He never showed me them again.”
They entered the room and switched on the light. It was a good-sized room, probably intended as a bedroom, but now was simply a room to house Hawkins’s collection. And it was quite a collection. Melanie and Emily stood staring at six large wooden and glass cabinets, each containing several shelves, each shelf holding a number of clowns. There were also larger clowns simply standing on the carpet on little bases or on their big shoes. There were ceramic, glass, wood, metal, papier Maché, and marble clowns; in all sizes. Some were basic circus clowns, some were the jester, joker or Harlequin type; some were just odd configurations. There were hundreds. There were also pictures, paintings and posters on the walls.
“Holy shit,” Emily muttered and Melanie simply nodded her head.
Their dinner had been lovely. Expensive restaurant (Carman paid), the appetizers, entrées and desserts were perfect. The wine was exceptional (this paid by Alvarez) and now they were seated on the leather seats of a Documart limo, heading back to the office and the condo.
As they drove, Alvarez slid her gloved hand up Carman’s leg. Carman had dressed, reluctantly at first, then deciding ‘okay’, as Alvarez had directed her, so she was wearing crotch-less panty hose and nothing else. When Alvarez’s hand found the shaved labia and began stroking them, Carman closed her eyes and leaned against the woman.
“You like that, in spite of yourself, don’t you?” Alvarez murmured.
Carman moaned slightly and placed her hand over the gloved one, pressing. Alvarez removed her hand and gripped Carman’s face, turning it to her. “Open your mouth.” Carman hesitated for a moment, fighting her natural instincts, then gave in and opened. “Put out your tongue.” When Carman complied, Alvarez spat on the tongue and then closed Carman’s mouth.
After a moment, she removed her left glove and pushed two fingers into Carman’s mouth and had her suck them, before licking the side of her face. “I want you to come back to my place.” She whispered, returning her hand to Carman’s crotch and squeezing, probing, pulling.
“Y-you can just order me to.” Carman moaned, beginning to hump the fingers that had now entered her.
“No, I want you to come by choice.” Alvarez whispered again, just as the large car slid to the curb. The driver got out and opened the rear door. Alvarez swung her long legs out and alighted, followed in a moment by Carman. Linking arms, the two women headed for the
Emily sat in the little library, going over her conversation with Mrs. Vargas. Yes, the woman had had a son, Alex. Yes, he was a gardener who had worked for a wealthy man and his wife years ago. Hawkins? Yes, the name rang a bell. One day he had suddenly shown up at her house, clearly upset, gathered a meagre supply of clothes and things, whatever he could stuff into a suitcase, and then he was gone.
Mrs. Vargas got a postcard from him from Mexico three months later. At Christmas, a card would arrive, for many years, and then five years ago that ended. She had not heard from him since.
Had Alex ever mentioned a Sarah?
Yes, he had spoken of her with affection. “He loved her, I know that.” Mrs. Vargas said. “As much as he loved his roses. Maybe more.”
Damn, thought Emily. This was too incredible. She called Carman’s cell, but just got her message.
Carman’s and Alvarez’s round buttocks were slapping together rhythmically, as they shared a two-headed dildo, back to back. Both women were pumping, in sync; both were moaning. In was a bit of a race to see who could finish first.
Then Alvarez cried out, slamming her buttocks hard into her partner’s. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Carman. Oh, oh, ohhhhh! Mmmmmm.” Alvarez had collapsed on the bed and Carman pulled the dildo out and lay against the woman. As Alvarez opened her eyes and watched, Carman licked the dildo off and then they shared a long, deep, probing kiss. “I will give you your pleasure, love.” Alvarez whispered.
“It’s okay, Folake, I’ve already had two today. I enjoyed giving you pleasure.” Carman murmured, face pressed against the other’s throat.
“Come,” Folake said, pulling Carman to her feet and leading her to the bathroom, before plunking her on the toilet. “You need to go, I know it, and I want to watch.”
Carman had never been into the ‘toilet’ scene, with anyone. It hadn’t interested her and had basically grossed her out. However, right now she was strangely relaxed, sitting legs spread with Folake directly in front of her, as she began to urinate. Folake watched the stream, and when it began to slow, she straddled Carman and began to urinate herself, directing her stream directly onto Carman’s clit area.
Carman closed her eyes, as this warm flow felt very nice. It aroused her, she didn’t question why, she was just floating along. “Open your eyes,” Folake said quietly and when Carman did, she was handed two squares of toilet paper. “Clean me.” was the instruction, and Carman did, taking time and care to wipe Folake thoroughly.
“Now lick me,” Folake squatted slightly and Carman pushed her face into the thick, shaved hair of the woman’s crotch, licking and sucking aggressively. In a few moments, Folake shuddered again. Straightening up, she smiled down at Carman saying, “I really do owe you one, now. Come on.”
And they headed back to the King-sized bed.
“C’mon, Tad, just get doin’. Fuck.” Brianna complained.
Raisha laughed, “This dude’s the slowest junkie in the west.” They both laughed. Tad meanwhile sat with the needle, lying across the palm of his hand. The pull was too hard to resist.
In a few minutes, Raisha snuck over to the hallway in the little apartment and texted a message, “He just shot up,” then returned to the two. Brianna was busy sucking Tad’s cock, so Raisha slid between the girl’s legs. It looked like they were in for the night.
“Why does he have them?” Emily asked Melanie, as they sat in the darkening front room. “I could ask why he has so, freakin’ many, but, no, just why does he have them at all.”
Melanie shook her head. She could remember nothing about clowns from their childhood, although her siblings were so much older than her she hadn’t really had much to do with them.
“Was, like the circus, a big thing? What the Hell?” Emily continued.
“No, nothing like that. Our father never took us anywhere; talking with Georgia, that was true all along; he wasn’t that kind of a father. And I know he was very hard on Stafford; there wasn’t any fun and games at our house. Sure as the devil, no clowns.” Melanie closed her eyes in thought and then they popped open as she said, “Wait. Oh my God, I’m remembering. My mother had two ceramic clowns, but they were kept on a table in the hallway. And she had a painting, that guy with the triangles…”
“Harlequin.” Emily added.
“Yes.” Melanie exclaimed, then looked at Emily. “How’d you know that?”
“I know some shit, Mel-bel. Go on. What about the painting?”
“Well, this is strange, and stranger still that I remember it. One day I was playing with friends and hurt myself and went home. My mom was in her room and above her bed was the Harlequin painting.”
“Well, that wasn’t where it was all the time. It was usually in the hall. I remember my father yelling about it one time. He thought it was stupid. He only liked, you know, landscapes or cowboys. So my mom must have taken it to her room when he wasn’t there, and moved it back. Strange, hey?”
Yes, Emily considered, strange. But it was all very strange.
“I want you to stay.”
“As your, submissive, or as your, partner?” Carman murmured.
“Is there a difference?” Folake asked, gently.
Carman needed to consider this. She was not a submissive, at least had never gravitated to that role. She had been the dominant in a relationship many times. Yet, somehow, Alvarez was getting to her, arousing her, bringing her forward. She would stay one way or the other.
“I will stay, and I’ll let you decide how it works out,” she crooned, “but I do need to see Emily tomorrow.”
“That’s fine. That gives us time. The only problem is we both have long legs; we could end up like a couple of pretzels.” Folake said and Carman chuckled.
Raisha came in quietly, then noticed that Tad was passed out on the couch. She held up an envelope and two pouches of powder; coke and H, and smiled; Brianna nodded at her. Raisha wasn’t sure how long this was going to go on, but as long as they were getting money, booze and dope, it was all good.
Saturday morning and it was time for another session for Downing. “He’s been getting off light.” Emily remarked to Melanie who just shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t take part, so she just ignored it.
Twenty minutes later, Downing was hanging by his wrists; mouth taped, eyes blindfolded. His ankles were strapped together and attached to weights, so he couldn’t move them. A cord had been tied around his penis and then to a hook across the room, and the cord was now taut, stretching his member out uncomfortably.
His testicles were bound as usual, but today heavier weights were added and the sacks were stretched down outrageously. Chantico was carefully dripping hot wax onto Downing’s ‘junk’. Downing was squirming and moaning as well as he could, gagged and held in place.
Emily was planning on torturing the man for twenty minutes or so, and then quizzing him about the other money of her father’s, with a promise of no more abuse and a reward if he was helpful.
As she watched, a text message from Carman popped up, saying she would be coming by around noon. Emily smiled and then returned to her work.
Carman put away her cell after messaging Emily. She and Folake had just finished breakfast and were having coffee. The suites had an arrangement with a local caterer, in the same building, so it was a lot like living in a hotel and ordering room service.
The young woman who brought the food; slim, white, blonde and bubbly; had had a bit of an experience, as she came in and saw Carman kneeling naked on the carpet. The girl tried very hard to pretend that nothing was amiss, while desperately avoiding looking at the woman on the floor; however, Folake would have none of that.
The girl would receive her generous tip only by spanking the slave, which she did with the small wooden paddle given her. Carman thanked the girl before she left and then looked at Folake with a furrowed brow, causing the woman to laugh out loud. “I’ll bet if I checked you, Slave, I would find you very wet, so don’t give me that. Come up here and let’s enjoy this; look, scrambled eggs, fruit, cheese, muffins…”
“When may I get dressed, oh slave master?”
“Slave Mistress, please, and you’ll get dressed when I say.” The two women ate for a few minutes in silence, before Folake poured some coffee and Carman sent her text.
“So, I know this troubles you, Carman. Being my submissive, but one can’t deny one’s feelings. You are essentially a dominant woman and your relationships so far have been so. But with me, it is different. That doesn’t change what you are; it just shows that you are complex.”
Carman looked across the small table. “But what happens when you leave?”
Folake smiled. “Who says I’m going to leave?”
Glendale, California, 2001
“You have not developed any, shall we say, relationships yet, have you sister?” Stafford Hawkins asked his sister Melanie.
“Well, um I’ve been pretty busy looking after Emily and helping Mrs. Pena. No, I don’t really have any friends and certainly no, um, boyfriends. Why are you asking?”
Hawkins arranged the salt and pepper shakers so they were centered better. “Well, it’s just that there is a young man in my office I would like you to meet. And I would hope that you would make an effort to be pleasant. One never knows.”
Oh great, thought Melanie, my brother has some nerdy goof he’s going to drag around. This is weird.
But the fellow wasn’t actually all that nerdy, although he was good at math. He was a little shy but still pleasant and Melanie had enjoyed her time with Drew Downing. They planned a second ‘date’ that very evening.
Downing was jerking and grimacing, silently for the most part, although one could still hear his muffled noises, as he hung from his hook. Chantico was peeling off the wax from his body and pulling away the clips, then slapping the various parts back to life as Downing writhed. At last she released his testicles and penis, smiling as she did this.
“Penises are silly,” she said to Emily.
“Tell me about it kid, that’s why I prefer eating you. Ok, take his tape off.” Chantico pulled the tape from Downing’s mouth and he groaned loudly once free.
“Hey, Drewsie, how’d that go? Like some more?”
“Ung, no, p-please, Miss M, no. Wh-what do you want?”
“Would you like to lick my shoes, Drew-sums?”
“Unngg. Yes, yes please. Oh. Ummmm. Yes, I’ll lick your sh-shoes.”
Emily chuckled. “Sorry, droopy Drew, no do. But we will jerk your little friend there, if you are a good Drewsie. Now, tell me. Where else does Daddy-dearest keep his money. It isn’t all in those accounts you gave me, unless he’s lost a ton, which I doubt.”
Downing twisted a couple of times before he began. “H-he has some other holdings; under the name SouthCal Ent. And he has some money; in offshore accounts; but I don’t know how much. I really don’t. He doesn’t let me get a-anywhere near that other stuff.”
“Would Ross know?”
Downing twisted slightly again on his hook, his blindfold still on. “He m-might, but I think your f-father has other lawyers do work on, um, off the books kind of deals, like.”
“And Ms. Da Costa would not know much?”
“No,” Drew replied quickly, “she has n-nothing to do with the financials. Although she m-might have a record of employees and not realize what it’s for, exactly, but I think Carman w-would see stuff that wasn’t adding up.”
“Did you know my mother, Drewsie?”
The man hung silently. “Why are you asking me…”
Emily slapped Downing across his balls with a flyswatter. “No questions, Unca Droopy. Did you know my mother, yes or no? It’s a simple fucking question.” Chantico looked with alarm at her mistress; she had not seen this anger before, although she had witnessed the smashed cup.
“I met your mother tw-twice, Em-Emily. Briefly. When I came by to drop off accounts or whatever. But I didn’t actually know her.”
“Did my father ever talk to you about her, her death or after she died?”
“No, Em…, Miss M, your father never once talked to me about your mother. N-never.”
Emily looked at him, then at Chantico. “Okay, sweet one, make Drewsie feel good.”
Chantico leaned up and engulfed Downing’s limp penis in her mouth and began to work it. Within moments it had come to life.
She really was good.
“Em.” Carman said, clasping the girl to her.
“Carman, jeez it seems like, I dunno, a long time.”
“We’ve both been busy, my love,” Carman said, looking down with affection at the girl with the perennial smirk on her face.
“C’mon, out to the patio.” Soon they were settled with glasses of wine. “So whaddya’ been up to, Carm?” Emily asked.
“Doing stuff for your father; he’s in response mode now, circling the wagons I’d say. You’ve spooked him, good, Emily.” Carman smiled. “But really, sometimes I just feel like that woman in the circus I saw on television, spinning plates on sticks, dashing from one to the other to keep them going.”
Emily laughed. “Circling the wagons, hey. So that makes us what, the Indians? Or is it the natives?” Emily laughed. “Well, Daddy-kins better watch out for the huntin’ party.” Emily then did some ‘Whoo whoos’ and brandished an imaginary tomahawk. They both sipped some wine and Emily ventured, “When you’re, um, spinning your plates, do you deal with any of his other companies? I have found out he has stuff not listed under his name.”
Carman paused and considered. “He has other investments, I know that, but my job is the management of the Documart office and staff. Ross might have some say in that other stuff, in a general way, perhaps, but your father is a secretive man, Emily. He only tells you what he wants you to know.”
“Or nothing.” Emily laughed.
Carman chuckled too. “And what have you been doing; any more research?” Carman asked innocently.
Emily hesitated; telling Carman certain information could put her in a difficult position; on the other hand, having only Melanie to share things with was hard.
She took a moment to light a cigarette, then took a breath and began. “Ok, here’s some heavy shit for you. My mother was having an affair and planning to run away with the gardener and my father killed her; or had her killed. He then had the body cremated and tore out her rose bush garden, replacing it with his gift to clowns. There, how’s that?” Emily sat, looking flushed.
Carman simply sat silently; stunned.
(End of Chapter 09)