Chapter 6

Florida.

Home had changed. Everything seemed smaller, uglier. She had walked past the restaurant where she worked. She did not enter. People at the fitness club greeted her enthusiastically. She felt reserved. The gossip they had did not touch her. It seemed to concern strangers.

Her mother had cried when she saw her again. Her father just stood and watched her. His eyes had been sad. They hugged. But something essential seemed to have changed.

Her apartment used to be her one precious place. It had been the proof of her pride and independence. Now it looked empty. It seemed small and insignificant. Her boss at the restaurant called her the second day she was back. He asked her if she'd returned to stay. She said she wasn't sure. He said she could start again this same day. She had been missed sorely. She thanked him and said she'd think about it. Then she went to the beach and cried.

It took her another day to call the number. No one answered. She tried again and again. She listened into the void that only echoed silence.

That night she went to the club to work out.

She always felt great after physical exertion. She would spin and lift and stretch for hours, gradually emptying her mind. Then she would take an extended shower. And she would feel all her disturbing thoughts rinse off her with the sweat.

She slipped into her blue lycra outfit and walked into the mirrored hall. All the memories crowded back into her head. The sheer ecstasy of meeting Angique. She fell silent in the middle of a conversation. Silently she started her exercise.

The gym had always been a place for her to be with friends. It was an opportunity to talk and share experiences. This night few of her friends and acquaintances had shown up. She found it hard to find small talk. She answered all questions about her stay in far away Italy with vague and bland remarks. Then all curiosity dried up. Of course she knew she acted strange. But she did not know how to find her way back to the spontaneous Kristie they knew.

She had always considered showering after a work out the second best experience her body could give her. But today it wasn't. She felt tense. Her mind never shut down. Maybe it was because of her period. It had started on the flight back. But she knew it couldn't be just that.

Why had she ever given in to that woman? Love? Ah, yes, it was so easy to love her. But why did it have to make her life so complicated? Before, her life had been straight and easy. Or had it? Oh, she didn't know. She just knew that she felt restless now. She felt incomplete as she walked home to her apartment.

The night was quiet and balmy. She heard the sea, way off. And over the ever-present fumes of traffic, wafts of oleander and honeysuckle reached her. They stirred her soul with nagging memories of mountains, lakes and gardens. Oh, stuff it! she muttered and tried to give her step a springy quality. Her well used muscles glowed and rolled easily inside her loose sweat suit.

Why was it? Why didn't things thrill her anymore? Why did she feel so utterly bored? And what was this feeling of betrayal? Her body felt so hungry, so deprived. It felt as if she starved it. As if she robbed it of the passions it craved. Can one betray one's body? Can one steal from it what it has a right to? Could a mind take a body for hostage? Ah, stop this, Kristie!

Before this, she had never considered something like a body and a mind, separately. She was Kristie, the young, spontaneous creature. There was never a problem that could not be worked out of her system. Literally. Never a sadness that could not be solved with a hug and a good cry. Never a frustration that could not dissolve in the thralls of a great orgasm. And now... dammit, Angique, what have you done to me? Where is my life?

The footsteps must have been behind her for a while. Leather soles, male strides. She looked over her shoulder. The figure was a silhouette against the dark, but she recognized it. He was a guy from the club, a coloured guy. What was his name? Dick? Derek. Pretty well built, with a well-toned body. Not at all the body builder type, though.

His sweet tenor voice greeted her. She walked slower to let him get alongside her. She said hi and smiled. Then she said she hadn't seen him at the gym. He told her he had only been there for a drink. He wanted to know where she had been these weeks. She told him she'd been to Europe and he said, well, Europe! And she laughed at the way he said it and he laughed with her.

She then felt the presence of another person. She looked and saw it was a very tall man. He was much darker than Derek. His face punched a hole in the night. And it became even blacker when he flashed a smile. He said hi with a rich dark baritone and told her his name was Jerome. Kristie turned to Derek, questioningly. He shrugged and said that Jerome was his friend. He was a very good friend. And the two men laughed.

Derek then said that it maybe wasn't wise for a girl to walk home alone at night. She watched his face. Then she laughed at a rather nervous pitch. What did he mean? She was suddenly not sure at all that she liked this.

"I have walked this stretch alone for years", she said. She tried to chuckle.

Derek's face was serious. He thought things had got worse these last weeks. He felt it his duty to escort her home. She protested. He insisted. The tall guy said nothing. The rest of the way was spent in uncomfortable silence.

At the entrance to the apartment building she thanked them. She assured them she was perfectly okay and wished them goodnight. Then the tall guy stepped forward. He told her to shut the fuck up. His voice was calm, even friendly. His eyes were steady in their black-in-black frame. He said she was far too slutty a white trash whore to go to bed without the benefice of his cunt stretching cock.

A hot flame of fear flashed through her body. She stared up into this black, inscrutable face. She was a little bird, not even blinking. And she heard a tiny voice stutter: "Yes sir."

They went upstairs. Her head swam. The tall Negro clutched her upper arm. She felt detached. A glass wall separated her from the outside world. The glass was warm and felt like velvet. Not a word was spoken.

She undressed for them as soon as they were inside her snug apartment. The little string of her tampon dangled between her thighs. They did not seem to mind. She unzipped the fly of the tall guy's pants and took his cock into her mouth. She had never sucked a black cock. It felt huge on her tongue. He fucked her face. She let his fat crown pass the sentinel of her throat's entrance. She never gagged.

He then started to hump her face. She noticed how fingers explored her raised ass. A hand avoided her tampon filled cunt. It found her wakening clit. She moaned around the cock.

The men were quite vocal about her. They praised her talents in the most obscene of languages. Their never-ending flow of words was riddled with racist offences. But what really disgusted her was that she did not feel offended at all. All she felt was reassurance, even pride. For the first time since she had come back from Italy, she felt at ease, relaxed. At last she had arrived at a place she understood. All tenseness dissipated. She felt calm, almost serene. The second cock invaded her. It filled her ass to the brim.

She came twice. She flooded her inner thighs with blood stained juices. Then Derek spilled his sperm into her. And when Jerome took out his monstrous cock to empty it all over her face and hair, she smiled.

She thanked him. They did not have to ask.

When they had gone, she took a scalding shower. She scrubbed her skin to rawness. She flushed the sperm and pink fluids into the sink. Then she sank into a white tiled corner. The water drowned her upturned face.

So this is Kristie now, she thought. A slut. She can only relax when she's raped, fucked and ravaged. She feels pride at being humiliated. She begs to be used and abused. My God, Angique, what have you done to Kristie, she wailed. But she knew it wasn't Angique she ought to blame. The pale, black haired woman had only shown her who she was. She had ignited the flame. The fuel had always been there.

Maybe she cried. Maybe sobs shook her shoulders. But the drumming shower washed it all away.

She renewed her tampon. She wrapped her glowing body in a nice, dry teddy robe. Then she punched a number into her cell phone. There was a void as big as an ocean. It was a silence that even swallowed her heartbeat.

She went to bed and dreamt of nothing.

The next day she spent mostly in bed. She not even let herself be lured outside by the glorious sun. She masturbated until her clit was a raw mess. She did not know why. Her body insisted. After each orgasm she sank into a pit of dull despair. But not even half an hour later her fingers once more touched the tender nub. Her hands and thighs were a mess. They were smeared with the blood of her period. She did not care. She used her old vibrator until all batteries in the house were empty. Then she used the handle of her brush, the neck of an empty bottle.

She slept less than two hours in a row. But she hardly left her bed. The next morning was almost afternoon, really. She had some yoghurt on her balcony that gave her a glimpse of the sea. Her mother called. She said everything was all right, but no, she did not feel well. She had her period and had no time to have coffee with her. She hung up and moaned because of the lie. Then she spooned some yoghurt into her cunt and started rubbing it in. At first it felt cool and slippery. Then the familiar burn set in. The pain died. Another pale climax flooded her.

The sun was hot. She decided to take a swim and stay on the beach for a while. She masturbated twice in the shadow of an umbrella. One hand was inside her bikini briefs. The other was inside the flimsy top. Two sun tanned beach bums saw her at it. She knew them. She invited them to do her in the shed where they kept their boards. She blew both their cocks and received them in her cunt and ass hole. They left her on the planked floor. They did not say good bye.

The next evening she sat on her tiny balcony once more. She toyed with a salad. But she wasn't hungry at all. Her brain buzzed. It had buzzed all day. She was restless and incredibly horny. It seemed impossible for her to focus or even concentrate. And impossible not to touch herself. But she had decided to stop the crazy rollercoaster of bleak and hasty climaxes.

Not that her body agreed. She had shaved her pussy carefully this morning. It oozed drops of fluid all day. She'd had to change her panties twice. Her ringed nipple chaffed at the inside of her bikini top. Even the inside of her soft terry robe made her nipples burn. Her hands trembled.

She had never felt like this in Villa d'Este. She had always been horny and excited there. But it was never like this. Here, there was no joy in it, no reason for it. There seemed to be no focus to her arousal. She had hoped her mood would change with the ending of her period. But she felt hornier than before.

She put the salad into the refrigerator. Then she emptied the glass of red wine and poured a second. Sipping it, she went to her bedroom. On the bed were two bags. They were from shops she had visited this afternoon. Shops she had never been to before.

The first bag was black with golden letters around a couple of kissing doves. Out of it she took a slithering top in liquid silver. She had tried it on in the booth of the shop. What she had seen in the mirror was outrageously sexy. She immediately took it off. But she had bought it nevertheless. And she took a stretch tube skirt in shining black to go with it. She had also bought lovely sheer silk stockings with lace elastic tops. But no underwear.

The other bag was brilliantly white. On it was a black, slashing logo. From it she took two severely heeled mules. They had narrow silver straps that gave her ankles no support whatsoever.

She had no idea why she had gone there and bought the items. She had no idea why it felt so good to watch herself in them. She did not know why she loved the liquid fabric to lick her skin. Before her stay at the Villa all her clothes had been in line with her sports loving image. And the no-nonsense decency of her family.

She emptied the glass and once more took a long shower. Then she stretched the tight silver top over her chest. It hugged her damp skin. And it kissed her nipples in a way that made her shiver. The ring pressed its little loop into the soft fabric.

She wriggled into the black skirt. Then she carefully slid the stockings up her shaven legs. Their tops just reached the hem of the skirt. It took all her concentration not to wobble on the high-heeled mules.

She felt incredibly sexy. The sensuous material hugged her. It made her bare skin tingle. In a few minutes she would go down and slide into a cab undressed like this. The thought baffled her. Especially since it didn't cause her any fear at all. It just made her pussy drool.

She avoided watching herself in the mirror. She sat down and did her hair and make up, only seeing her face. Tonight Florida would know a new Kristie. Made up as sexy as she was dressed. She put silver and green over her eyes. She used fat, black lashes to put them in mysterious shades. And a deep blood red coating on her shining lips.

At last she stood and saw herself in the floor to ceiling mirror. Her knees went liquid, her brain melted. Who was this girl? Where had Kristie gone? And she knew. She had stopped being the Kristie her friends and family knew. Even the Kristie she herself knew. Something had shifted in her mind to never return where it came from. She smiled at the girl she saw. She knew she was her now. But she also knew that she was not. She was like a puppet that was her own puppeteer. Like a sculptor sculpting a smile on lips that were at once her own and not. She held the girl's silk clad tits. She watched the nipples swell at the centre where the ring's imprint shone. She felt the arousal like the girl felt it. And she pushed the girl's fat glossy lips into a pout.

"Welcome, pretty new Kristie", she purred. "Please help stupid old Kristie. Don't you ever leave her again. Not ever".

The club's bar was bustling with people. Blue curtains of smoke billowed under tiny spotlights that swarmed the ceiling. Jazzy music filled the semi darkness. It seeped into its deepest niches.

At least twenty sets of eyes flashed in her direction. They took in every outrageous inch of her body. She almost felt their caressing touch. A million tiny bumps rose from her skin.

The heavy bar had a horseshoe shape. There was one empty leather-and-brass stool. She walked over to it, conscious of her tits and ass at every careful step. She climbed onto the stool. Her tube skirt slid up two inches. It exposed the paleness of her skin.

Many eyes had accompanied her until she sat. Then most of them returned to where they dwelled before. But a few never left her. These were set inside the skulls of three young male Caucasians. They usually followed the instructions of a swelling organ between their thighs.

Yes, Kristie knew what a nice girl like her was doing in a place like this. And yes, she'd love a white wine and ice, please. And thank you for all the sweet compliments. And no, she did not smoke. But she giggled.

One of the three was a freckled redhead with a great smile and wide shoulders. It was with him that she shared the first dance. And the feel of his promising bulge against her thigh. But before his hand really reached her ass, he was politely tapped on his shoulder. His small, olive skinned buddy took over. He might be smaller, but his bulge seemed more aroused. Or maybe he already was much bigger to start with.

Kristie rubbed into it. She felt a lovely glow spread from her crotch and all over her body. He was a great dancer too. She was rather disappointed when the chubby blonde guy took over. He was a talker, not a dancer. She had to fear for her almost unprotected feet.

They returned to her stool. And she knew it wasn't only the ice in her wine that seemed broken. The tiny circle around her shrank to a solid wall of male flesh. It seemed to sprout branches. They touched her in a million places. But mostly felt them where her curves were. She smiled to let them know she knew. What the heck. And the branches sprouted even more fingers. They covered her with a magnetic shield of caresses.

Oh God, she loved this. She wriggled. And she spread her thighs as far as her tight skirt allowed,. She felt a warm dry hand slide up her inner thigh. Another hand had long since cupped her right silver tit. A third one even slipped inside the top to rub a shrieking nipple. She closed her eyes and moaned. Then she lifted her ass. She allowed the hand to crawl all the way up to her drenched cunt.

The only one who could see her, was the lady bartender. She understood perfectly well what was going on. Kristie knew her. She was a member of the same fitness club. They had made love a few times. If the girl was surprised to see her with guys, she never let on. She just winked and went on with her business.

The third wine was her fifth of the last two hours. A sweet slow dizziness spread over her like a moist blanket. She slid off the stool and bid the wall to open. Then she started her way to the restrooms. She reached those after a few less elegant stumbles. In one of the stalls she pulled her skirt up and sat down on a toilet bowl. She released her bladder with a sigh. My God, Kristie. Ah well, it's fun, isn't it?

She dabbed at her crotch with a soft piece of toilet paper. She drew threads of crystal clear juices. Aaaah, so wet she was. This new Kristie was a little wet slut, indeed. Grin.