Chapter 14

Maddie awoke a dozen hours later. She yawned mightily and stretched. She felt surprisingly refreshed and at peace despite her bizarre situation. It seemed that whatever drugs her hosts had given her had worked their way out of her system at last. She sat on the edge of the bed and confirmed that the room was going to stay glued down, as opposed to spinning like a top as it had the previous evening. She felt grungy and gritty. She stunk. She ran her hands over legs; they were practically bristle brushes.

She entered the bathroom and emerged an hour later fresh as a daisy and smooth as silk. As Susan had said, most of her clothing was cleaned, pressed and hanging in her closet. A dresser drawer yielded up fresh panties and a bra. She dressed in the shorts and top she’d worn the day she got her BMW. She missed that car and the freedom it represented. She’d get both of them back one day ... she was sure of it.

Her stomach growled, reminding her for about the hundredth time that morning that she needed nourishment, but she still had a couple of things to do. She opened the safe in her closet and pulled out the keycard to her room plus her purse and wallet. She unsnapped her wallet and thumbed through the bills her kidnappers, or self-proclaimed rescuers, had left for her. “I like their idea of walking around money,” she said. Her wallet contained at least two thousand dollars.

She went to the room’s desk and pulled out the notebook of the resort’s amenities. Its thick glossy pages were indexed. She flipped to the food section and glanced through the listing of what had to be at least a hundred places to buy food in the resort. There was a twenty-four hour buffet in the lobby of her hotel. That looked like the most convenient place to go. Her stomach growled in agreement.

Maddie put the notebook under arm and left the room. She traded smiles with a cute and buxom young Latina who was pushing a maid’s cart in the hallway. Reaching the elevator she punched for a car which arrived seconds later. She stepped into and pushed the button for the lobby. As the elevator moved she glanced at the bank of buttons for the various floors. There was a heavy plastic sheet covering the buttons for the upper floors. A sign said that the higher floors could be accessed only by permission. Contact information followed.

It seemed as if she was entering another world when she exited the car and stepped into the lobby. It was surreal to see people simply talking, lounging or striding about. She half-expected to see them suddenly point their fingers at her and whisper urgently to their friends. Of course that didn’t happen. Aside from the admiring looks from several men, no one paid her the least attention.

The buffet had cafeteria style seating, but it was by far the nicest cafeteria she’d ever seen. The floor was carpeted, and the tables had linen tablecloths. There were lines for breakfast, lunch and dinner, no doubt a concession to the twenty-four hour life style of Vegas. She wanted a big breakfast, so she got in line behind a likeminded couple. Maddie didn’t have to touch a tray or grab a bundle of silverware. She only had to select items and they were added to a tray that slid along behind a glass enclosure by smiling employees. At the end of the line, she followed the example set by the couple and swept her keycard through a reader and received a, “Thank you, dear. I hope you enjoy,” from a little old lady who guarded the financial end.

A worker appeared with her food and followed her to a table where he laid out all her dishes. “Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked, speaking mostly to her chest.

“A tall glass of very cold milk, Tim?” Maddie said. He had a brass name plate affixed to the long white apron that all the workers were wearing.

“Right away,” Tim said with a smile which indicated his pleasure at hearing his name from the beautiful and very sexy young woman at his table.

Maddie rearranged the dishes to make a place for the notebook of resort information. She forced herself to eat slowly as she read; she didn’t want her stomach to rebel after being empty for several days. She was familiar with the aerial view of the resort. It was used as a location establishing shot for television and movies. She learned that she had a room in the Gold Stack, named that because from the outside the round building resembled a giant stack of gold poker chips. It was the most exclusive of all the hotels in the resort. The rich, the famous and the highest of high rollers stayed here. Her room, which she thought was pretty nice, was the equivalent of servant’s quarters.

“Let me refresh your milk,” Tim said as he put down a new glass of cold milk and picked up the old one which was barely a quarter empty.

“Thank you,” Maddie said warmly. It was the second time he’d brought her a fresh glass.

Less than an hour later she gazed longingly at a couple of waffles, but decided they would be too much. She closed the notebook, put a generous tip under a plate for the attentive Tim and headed back to her room; nature was calling.

As Maddie washed her hands after her session on the porcelain throne, she felt a growing pressure in her loins. She dried her hands and quickly unfastened her shorts. She pulled them off along with her panties. By then, her member was at full throbbing attention.

“I wondered when you’d show up,” she said to the one-eyed monster. Damn, she suddenly needed to get off in the worse way, and it was just as well that she was in her bathroom. She stepped to the edge of the shower.

She giggled and said, “Instructions to those blessed by the charm. Once your cock appears, you will need to masturbate ... frequently. Her cock-muscles flexed and several ounces of pre-cum flowed over the head of her dick.

“Lubrication will not be a problem. Your potent appendage will provide more than enough,” she said as she massaged the warm pre-cum into her cock-head. “Next, find a convenient location for your unbelievable load. A shower is convenient. It’s a big target and easily cleaned. Or if you’re feeling particularly naughty, you can leave it for the maid to be awed by your prowess,” she said with a laugh.

More pre-cum washed over fingers until both of her hands and her shaft dripped with hot slickness. “Mmm ... that’s nice,” she said. What if she didn’t clean the shower? She imagined the Latina she’d seen earlier, raven hair in a long ponytail, dressed in a skintight uniform doing her best to lick the dripping cum off her shower stall. “Of course the best place to lose your load is in a willing pussy or mouth,” she said in a whisper. If what the Susan-avatar had said last night was true, then that might be her future.

Maddie’s hands pumped along her huge cock-shaft. She imagined the brown skin beauty striving to coax the cream out of Maddie’s straining cock. She would be nude with her hands, arms and firm breasts covered in oily pre-cum. She’d be doing her best to surround Maddie’s cock with her compact body, begging for her potent cum.

“Yes, yes YES” Maddie moaned as her cock erupted and slammed hot, creamy semen across the width of the shower. In her mind she saw the Latina’s mouth filling with cum and then rubbing the excess it into her tits, her face and even her hair in an effort to capture every drop.

Maddie opened eyes and looked at the explosion of cum on the shower wall and floor. “Wow,” she said. “Not so much a smooth coating as a messy splatter.” There was cum all over the stall as well as drops on her arm and legs. She rubbed it into her skin. It really did feel like body lotion. No longer under the influence of her carnal imagination, she ran the water in the shower and took a couple of minutes to wash away the evidence. No surprise for the maid today.

She was once again fully clothed and about to leave the bathroom when her body sent another signal. She felt a knot in her chest below her heart begin to tightened. Hot blood suffused her chest and face. “I guess so,” she whispered. She calmly put the cover down on the commode and pulled a thick hand towel from its rack. She sat on the cover, buried her face in the towel and began to sob uncontrollably. This was, somehow, her coping mechanism for what life threw at her. Other girls pouted, cried, screamed, cursed and threw tantrums in the moment. Maddie had taken all the taunts at her weight, the jeers at her eagerness in the classroom and all the unintended hurts that happen between family and friends and stored them away. To those around her, she seemed oblivious or uncaring to all the slights she suffered, and at the time they didn’t seem to matter even to her. But there was a price to be paid, a balance to come and these crying jags were it. She sobbed, she wailed, she moaned and cried until the towel was a salty, soggy dampness against her face.

Eventually her muscles unclenched and her tears stopped flowing. She set the towel aside and blew her nose on a handful of tissues. Standing, she looked in the mirror. She expected to see red, puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face, and that’s what she got. She dashed water against her face, and then she rinsed the hand towel in cold water and held it against her cheeks.

Maddie felt drained, and ever so slightly out of phase with the rest of the world. She had a sense of lightness. She knew her brain was flooded with dopamine or something. She’d have to look that up later. For now, she shuffled into the kitchen with the cool towel against her forehead. There was a basic one cup at a time coffee machine on the counter with a basket of sealed cups by its side. She picked a tea, and in a couple minutes she was shuffling into the sitting area, cup in one hand, freshly rinsed and cool towel in the other. She settled into the couch before the television and turned it on with the remote. She flipped through the channels until she found an old movie full of romance and drama.

“Maddie? Ms. Parton? Are you there? I need to speak with you.”

Maddie jerked awake. The movie she’d been watching had been replaced by a screwball comedy. She looked over at the computer on the desk. She thought she had closed that laptop last night, but it was still cracked open. Susan was calling her. She went to the desk and pulled it fully open. The avatar was back, looking as inscrutable as ever.

“Oh good, I’ve caught you,” Susan said. “Is everything okay ... I mean given your circumstances? Is there anything you need?”

“I’m fine,” Maddie said flatly. “What do you want?”

“Down to business then,” Susan said. “One of the backers for our plan to utilize the charm and your talents to their fullest extent has asked to be able to observe you.”

“Observe me?” Maddie said. An image popped into her mind of standing nude in a glass cell while a man in a full length black leather coat leered at her from behind mirrored sunglasses.

“Don’t worry,” Susan said. “It’s not as ominous as you make it sound. You have been given one of the hottest tickets in town ... the Gold Party.”

“Oh my God, the Gold Party,” Maddie said, sarcasm dripping from each word. She had no idea what that was.

“I see a little background is in order,” Susan said. “When Tabletop Resort began construction, the economy was booming and so was Vegas. Internet billionaires and ordinary investors practically threw money at the project. Of course those circumstances didn’t last. I won’t bore you with recent economic history. With funds drying up, the resort’s developers made the choice of finishing, at least to outside appearances, all the buildings. The signature look of the resort would have been ruined with shortened or half-completed buildings. Many of the resort’s hotels have uncompleted floors, but the exclusive Gold Stack, where you are, was hardest hit.”

“That’s why you can’t access the upper floors in the elevator. There’s nothing there,” Maddie said.

“Correct,” Susan said, “They’re empty except for barebones wiring and plumbing for the most part. Now we come to the party. It began as a sales gimmick. Get the rich and famous together, ply them with liquor and sell them an apartment or condo worth millions. The parties began as a sales gimmick and they are still that, but they have also evolved into quite the social event. They have become the place to see and be seen by celebrities, high rollers, politicians, the rich and the famous. The invitations go to a select few.”

“And if I refuse?” Maddie said.

“Obviously, no one’s going to drag you to the party, Maggie. But this is another small, and easily taken step, I might add, in cooperating with the people who will be investing millions in you,” Susan said.

Maddie winced. Susan was making her look petulant. “Okay,” she said, “when is this little shindig?”

“Tonight ... in a few hours actually,” Susan said.

“Oh, great. Unless it’s a barbeque, I don’t have anything to wear,” Maddie said.

“I know,” Susan said. There’s a fantastic store for high-end dresses near your hotel. It’s called Mademoiselle Marchand, which is also the owner’s name. Go now and Mme. Marchand will set you up. Dress for the party is cocktail.” Susan filled in details about where how and when for the party.

This was to be Maddie’s first adult, sophisticated party. She hadn’t had her first awkward high school party yet. The one where the popular girls danced, and girls like Maddie, or at least the girl Maddie had been, sat on the sidelines, hoping to be noticed. She would also be skipping her high school formal and a couple of drunken frat parties. Yeah, she was jumping to something that should be fifteen years in her future, if ever.

“Don’t worry,” Susan was saying as if she had read Maddie’s thoughts. “Forget anything I said about being observed. Enjoy the moment.”

“I’d better go,” Maddie said as she pulled down the screen on the laptop. Susan was trying to be chummy as well as manipulative. She didn’t care for it.

A few minutes later Maddie was striding down the corridor outside her hotel. She was underground of course. All of the traffic at the resort moved underground so as to maintain the illusion that the buildings above were resting on a gaming table for giants.

Tastefully dressed mannequins staring vacantly from behind window glass told Maddie that she had arrived at Mademoiselle Marchand. She stepped into a world of cool, perfumed air and walls of muted pastels.

“Can I help you?” said a cute blonde with dazzling white teeth. She was standing behind a counter and wearing a headset made of wires so thin, they practically weren’t there at all.

“My name is Maddie Parton,” said Maddie. “I’m supposed to see Mme. Marchand?”

The receptionist checked a screen or papers out of Maddie’s sight and then spoke into her mic. Looking up she said, “Please have a seat.” She gestured to a group of chairs that surrounded a coffee table. “Mademoiselle will be with you shortly. Can I get you a latte?”

“Uh, sure,” Maddie said. She went to the waiting area. The seats were comfortable. The fashion magazines on the table were the latest editions. Her latte was brought by a young man with spiked hair and manicured nails ... a French manicure.

People came and went. There was a door behind the receptionist. Employees would go through the door and reemerge seconds or minutes later. From glimpses, Maddie figured the room was some sort of combination storage and employee lounge area. To her right was an open doorway. A partition wall beyond the door blocked her view, but it sounded like a busy place from the amount of noise and chatter that filtered through. Customers arrived and announced themselves to the receptionist. Most were sent directly through the doorway. A few had to wait with Maddie, but none for more than a few minutes.

An hour passed. Maddie went to the cute blonde and said, I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting an hour...”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” the receptionist said. She sounded so contrite that Maddie felt guilty for disturbing her.

The blonde spoke softly into her mic, and then turned to Maddie. “Please, just a few more minutes and Mme. Marchand will be with you.”

“Thank you,” Maddie said, and waited another hour.

At that point she didn’t care if the blonde was reduced to a blubbering mass of tearful regret. She stood from her chair and said in a voice that could carry well beyond the doorway and its partition, “Tell Mme. Marchand that I’ll come to her.”

“No, please,” the blonde said. She spoke urgently into her thin wire of a microphone. A few seconds later, a woman appeared in the doorway and stepped forward. She was tall and thin with prominent cheekbones. Auburn hair fell in loose curls past her shoulder. She wore a simple red dress that was sleeveless with a modest square-cut neckline. She looked like a Mme. Marchand.

“I am so sorry, Ms. Parton,” she said in a distinctly French accent. “The Gold Party always leaves us with too much to do and too little time in which to do it.”

With a laser-like gaze, she looked Maddie over from head to toe at different angles. “I have the perfect thing for you, darling. You won’t have to wait a moment more.” She spun on her heel and disappeared through the doorway.