Chapter 12: Christmas Court

Christmas Court, Fort Worth, Texas, December 15-18, 2006

For court, Master Dunham, and Mistress Snyder, had arranged to rent a property north of Westlake, a suburb of Fort Worth. High walls surrounding extensive grounds, pool and spa, plenty of bedrooms, a tennis court, and a staff recruited for the long weekend ... it was another high bar set for Court.

When the Chorale contingent arrived mid-day Friday, the temperature was in the mid-70’s, and not a lot of the attendees were in the pool, although the hot tub was full ... which was saying something, given its size.

The Hurley’s had come along this time, leaving their kids in the care of some staff from the former Sandalwood, and Marcie had already made a scene in the limo, on their way from the airport. Harry had enjoyed another blowjob from the collared sub, while her husband, and his sister, took turns lighting her bare ass up with a paddle. Marcie’s ass was swollen, and glowing, as she exited the car naked, and Harry swore he’d rarely seen someone so happy.

Sometimes he wondered if everyone in Society was certifiable to some degree or another.

Inside the foyer was a sign.

“Thank you for coming.
“The kitchen is open, 24 hours a day, as is the bar.

“We do ask if you smoke, anything, please do so outside.
“Enjoy yourselves,
“Master Dunham and Mistress Snyder”

“Whoa,” Kelly said. “When is our court again?”

“Easter, love,” Carol replied. “We’ll be back on March 22^nd, and then have only two weeks, almost to the day, to prepare for Easter Court.”

“I foresee you, and your crew, doing a lot of the prep work,” Harry said to Mistress Wolfling.

“We expected as much. We only have a reputation for disorganization...”

“Thank God,” Margo said, “because after five weeks of honeymoon, it might take us a while to get back into the swing of things.”

“As it should,” Lyra Wolfling replied. “Luckily, we have a lot of very talented people.”

Supper, Friday evening, was an informal affair, prepared by the house staff, but later in the evening, the assembled host was to visit ‘Flowers on the Razor Wire’, the local hardcore club.

“No offense to Gay, but I really hope this visit is nothing like our visit to ‘Chains of Desire’,” Harry murmured.

“No shit,” Kelly said, as they waited for the limos to arrive. “I didn’t bring my earplugs.”

Harry glared at her, relieved to see a grin on her face.

“Yeah, I’m hoping no psychopaths pop up to spoil our fun,” Kelly said. “Don’t worry, beloved, I’m not planning on bringing home anyone, let alone another Problem Child.”

The club didn’t allow for blood play – something that disappointed both Kelly, in her pink armor, and quite a few of the patrons, who got really excited at the sight of Kelly in her pink armor.

The music wasn’t as loud, or as violent, and overall, it felt like a somewhat more edgy version of Dominique’s, without the live performances.

“I tell you, it’s proof they’re insane,” Trevor Yeats said. “They’re telling everyone they can, outside the state, they’re still in charge. El Paso, and Fort Worth, are still unrecognized, and one subject they ignore completely is the existence of a Central Texas scene.”

“So ... what? Maybe if they wish hard enough, we’ll disappear?” Harry said.

“Maybe,” Master Dunham said.

“What if we circumvent them altogether?” Margo mused. “We’ll be spending two weeks in Chicago, the kids will be in San Francisco, let’s do some politicking.”

“You really trust these children to represent you?” Mistress Ruiz asked.

“I trust Donna, and Abby,” Margo replied, “and I trust Jason to follow their advice, and their lead.”

“We could have Dayna go with them, separate room, of course,” Harry said.

“Problem is,” Kelly said, “not a real Dominant among them.”

“I think Dayna could be persuaded to take up the whip again, for the purposes of the trip,” Carol said, kneeling on the floor beside the table.

“Still, a lot of weight to put on some young shoulders,” Master Salazar said. “Perhaps you could send someone from the former Sandalwood with them...”

“It’s an idea,” Margo said, “and I’d be far more worried if it was a more formal situation, rather than just some friendly talks.

“Lyra,” she called, as an exhausted Wolfling came back from the dance floor, “any of your crew fancy two weeks in San Francisco?”

Margo had resisted checking her phone while at the club – they were supposed to be having fun, not dealing with business, but on the limo ride back to the house, she did so.

The message was short, and Gay’s voice was hollow.

“Madam Grimes, Travis killed himself earlier today. Chains of Desire is closed until further notice.”

When they were back, Margo had Carol undress her, then, wrapped in a warm bathrobe, she went out to the tennis court, sat on a bench, and called Gay.

“How are you doing?”

Gay’s voice revealed she’d been crying.

“I’m not doing too well ... it was me ... I caused this ... when I found out ... the gifts ... what he’d given that little cunt ... I told him we were getting divorced. Travis ... his note ... he wasn’t going to live as a junkie, ever again...”
“Gay, that was his choice to make ... I can’t say I approve, but this isn’t on you. You chose your path, and he chose his.”

“I know ... is that cunt still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do you want Kelly or me to come back to Waterloo?”

“No ... no, thank you ... the funeral will be Tuesday...”

“We’ll be there. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Nothing I’d ask of you ... at least, not over an open phone line.”

“I understand ... if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

“Thank you...”

Margo decided to keep the news to herself, and wondered if there was going to be a crisis every time they were at Court...

She waved over one of the house staff.

“Ask Milady Carol to join me, and bring a pipe.”

“Certainly.”

As she waited, she pondered the few stars visible through the city’s glow, hoping there was a kindly afterlife, so Travis might find the peace he’d lost.

“Should I ask what’s wrong?” Carol said, walking up.

“Not until we’re back home again ... it’s nothing that can’t wait. I just needed a little company, and some smoke, before bed.”

At breakfast, late Saturday morning, Mistress Snyder said, “Most of today is up to you, we have nothing planned. If you’d like to take in the sights, visit museums, galleries, the zoo, let us know, and we’ll provide a guide, and transportation.

“This evening, we have supper reservations at Del Frisco’s Double Eagle at 8, and afterward, we have reservations for the Ballet Erotica at 11. Enjoy the day.”

Over omelets, the family decided to take in the Fort Worth Museum District that afternoon, aiming to be back by 6.

“Culture makes my feet hurt,” Harry said, as they rested on a bench in the Amon Carter Museum of American Art.

“I wish I could call you a Philistine, or somesuch, but I agree,” Margo said, sitting next to him. “It’s worth it though.”

“Hell, it’s worth it for the works of Remington alone,” Harry agreed.

“How’s your leg?” Carol asked, squatting next to the bench – as close to being on her knees as they’d allow her in public.

“I’m carefully not discussing my knee at this time.”

“And that’s enough of an answer for me,” Carol replied, before disappearing toward the entrance.

Ten minutes later, she was back with a wheelchair.

“You are so not getting beaten for this,” Harry growled.

“But you might, if you don’t get in the chair,” Kelly said. “What an event that would be ... Master Grimes of House Chorale getting lashed at court.”

Harry cut Margo a silent appeal, only to be met by her impassive gaze in reply.

“Fine ... I’ll ride in the gawddamn chair.”

After a wonderful supper – almost the equal of Dunston’s back home, they were driven to what looked to have been an old high school gymnasium, with numerous additions built on.

Once inside, they sat at the bar, and Harry noticed there weren’t any attendees other than the Court.

“Master Dunham,” he said, “did you reserve the whole theater?”

“Given the size of our group, it made sense,” Master Dunham replied. “Not that our group, and regular patrons, wouldn’t have mixed well, but since we weren’t exactly sure how many would be in attendance, it just seemed safer.”

Over drinks, they listened to Master Ruiz and Mistress Pena’s stories of their visit to the Fort Worth Zoo.

“So,” Israel said, “every time Lera goes to take a picture, the animal turns around, shows her their ass. It’s uncanny.”

He waited for the laughter to die down.

“And the ass was all she got, if she was lucky.”

“I have more pictures of animals pissing, and defecating, than I ever wanted,” she exclaimed. “A few of them might go up on the wall with my favorite photo from Vegas. We were at the Mirage, visiting the dolphins, and while we were in the underwater gallery, I could not help but photograph one of the dolphins and his erection. He was very happy, and proud, of his penis, and was just dancing in front of the window, hard-on bobbing up and down.

“But yes, this seems to be a habit with me and wildlife photography ... it’s rare I get a front view of an animal. Butts? Those I get a ton of.”

The Ballet Erotica was ... interesting. A combination of some of the more mundane performances at Dominique’s, and ballet, Harry found it artistically pleasing, but erotically lacking. The women seemed anorexic to him, lacking any of the fleshy quality he liked in women.

He could tell, however, that his brides found the male dancers very interesting, and he agreed. They were all handsome, and very fit ... and well-endowed.

Harry had found the aerial portion of the performance ... amusing. After Mistress Veronika and House Risotti’s efforts, the Ballet Erotica was ... really rather tame. And he was okay with that ... after all, Risotti’s performances were few, far between, and extremely risky...

That’s when it hit him ... Houston’s Ballet Erotica was safe. Beautiful, artful, but so far from ‘edgy’ as to be, overall, rather boring.

He leaned over to Margo.

“Do you think we could talk Veronika and her crew into...”

“Yes, yes we could,” Margo replied. “We’ll have to discuss whether or not we should, at some later time.”

After the performance, they emerged to find their hosts had arranged for horse-drawn carriages to transport them to a club, Vincenzo’s, for drinks and dancing to round out the evening.

As they enjoyed the ride, Kelly said, “Okay, pretty men, big dicks ... I almost fell asleep.”

The four of them laughed.

“Yeah ... the guys were major turn-ons, but they didn’t really do much,” Margo said. “I don’t know, maybe it was a lack of passion, having to do the same show for however long, but any show we’ve ever done at Dommi’s would blow it out of the water, as far as...”

“Pure erotic heat,” Carol finished.

“God, I wish Dommi were here,” Harry said. “I’d love to get her input on it.”

“The older Societies in Texas ... they’re more established, and therefore, they don’t try as hard,” Carol said. “That would be my guess, at least. Here, it’s just entertainment, and not an act of revolution. Although I’d have thought Fort Worth and El Paso wouldn’t be as staid.”

“I never thought of any performance at Dommi’s as ‘revolutionary’,” Kelly said, “but you may have a point. We’ve gone balls-out to prove ourselves ... not only to Waterloo Society, but to ourselves. Here? Nobody feels the need to prove anything to anyone. They’re ... is ‘complacent’ the right word?”

“I think so,” Margo replied. “I wonder if they realize what a group of anarchists they’ve let into their party?”

“I wonder if we’ll still be welcome when they find out?” Harry said.

Sunday morning was blissfully hangover-free, and over a traditional British breakfast, courtesy of House Dunham’s chef, political discussions continued.

“I think all of you, with your retinues, should show up at Fleur de Lis some Saturday evening,” Sebastian Erickson said. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t. Noblesse oblige demands you be treated as guests, and Vanson and Saenz would look like the complete and total assholes they are, should they snub you.”

“I’m not sure I really want to put up with them, no matter how courteously they treat us,” Margo replied. “Besides, I’m not sure those rules still apply, given how we treated them at our party.”

“Your behavior is talked about, and admired, in all the wrong circles in Dallas,” Bethany Torres said. “It’s a shame no video footage of your first court exists, I’m pretty sure there are people in Dallas who’d run it on a loop, 24/7.”

“I wish the same,” Harry said, “but security was, with one exception, very tight.”

“Oh, do tell,” Mistress Snyder said.

So, the story of the intended blackmail, and the fall of House Wexler, was told ... for the most part. There were, of course, redactions where the more illegal aspects of the proceedings were involved.”

“Jeezus Christ,” Mistress Pena said, when it was all told. “That’s some serious shit. I like the way things got handled.”

“Thank Madame Cornelius for that,” Margo replied.

At the mention of the recently deceased Madame, conversation around the table died, and there were a few moments of silence.

“I’m happy we were able to make her memorial,” Master Yeats said, to agreement around the table. “Your crew did a masterful job with the service. You did her proud.”

“Thank you,” Margo replied. “I’m sorry we didn’t have any time to spend with any of you...”
“Sorry nothing,” Master Ruiz said. “You were busy doing your duty.”

“Truly, I’m not sure any other city in Texas could’ve put together a service as quickly as you did, that turned out as beautifully,” Bethany Torres said. “Your people have their shit together.”

Everyone from Waterloo laughed at that, and once their laughter subsided, Harry said, “I’m glad we give that appearance, but trust me, to us, it feels like an illusion.”

The rest of Christmas Court passed pleasantly, and Margo was happy no further disaster raised its head.

On the flight back to Waterloo, she told her spouses of Travis Shomshak’s passing.

“So, why haven’t we dealt with our problem child?” Kelly said. “I’m pretty sure she’s long over-stayed her welcome.

Margo

Travis Shomshak’s funeral was a small affair. Indeed, Margo was shocked by how few turned up, given how many people she’d seen at Chains of Desire when she’d visited. Margo didn’t mention it to Gay, but did say something in the car on the way home.

“My love,” Carol said, “for someone with such good instincts, you still miss the point some times.

“Travis was a Dom, a Dom who helped run the hard-core club in town. A Dom who, when told his wife was going to divorce him, killed himself.”

“And...” Margo said, still puzzled.

“He was weak, Margo,” Kelly replied. “He was broken ... he was human.”

“Oh ... is it all right if I really don’t like some of the people in the scene right now?”

“Yeah, it’s just fine,” Carol said.

“Would it have helped attendance if I’d made it known we were going to attend?” Margo asked.

“Probably,” Carol replied, “but it would have upset Gay. I think she’s going to use that low attendance as a reason to close the club for good, and move on elsewhere ... at least that’s the impression I got when I spoke with her earlier. It’s an excuse, yeah ... an excuse to do what she really wants to. Right now, Waterloo, and the club, holds way too many bad memories for her.”

“Well, I wonder what the hard-core contingent will do, with no club to patronize?” Harry said, disgustedly.

“Wait until a new club opens,” Carol replied. “One will, undoubtedly. Chains did enough business to make that inevitable.”

Margaret

Margaret Culberson relaxed in one of the soft, overstuffed chairs in the suite the family had allocated for her and Earl. She wondered how many submissives had lived in it before. Hearing about Chorale South, she hadn’t believed there could be enough people living there to make it seem crowded. After today, she knew better.

The family had paid for professional packers and movers for them, and so long as Earl was there to oversee the packing, she hadn’t worried about that. Some of their possessions would be in storage, at least for a while, but that was okay.

But even with movers, it had been an exceedingly long day, because of the tour, and introductions. The tour had taken hours, through the vast ... mansion? Palace? Fortress? All those names were accurate, one way or another.

And then had come the introduction of the residents ... there were so many of them. The vast majority of them, submissives, had wanted to refer to her as Mistress Culberson, and couldn’t be convinced to do otherwise. She’d tried to put them at ease, and had talked about teaching school, once everything was arranged.

Some of them asked her if she and ‘Master Culberson’ could teach them to read ... and write ... it had been all she could do not to weep. Evidently, in the larger, and older, Houses, not everyone was educated, although some had been taught the basic three ‘R’s. And a good number of the subs in the house were gifts, or refugees, from such Houses.

Margo had been with them, and was shocked to find out the educational state of things as well.

“Kissie, I’d assumed ... but then, I should have guessed. If they’re born into a House, why train them at all for anything except the life you choose for them. Yes, they’re nominally ‘free’ to leave, anytime ... having no idea how to function in the real world. They’re institutionalized.”

So, adult education classes would be set up, as well.

It felt good to Margaret Culberson to have a purpose again.

“Earl?”

“Yes, love?”

“You did well today ... I heard nary a peep out of you about these people’s lifestyles.”

“Wasn’t easy.”

“No, I don’t imagine it was. Call the kitchen, and have them bring us some hot tea. I feel like cuddling with you on the couch, listening to some music, and drinking tea.”

“Yes, love.”

Donna

She felt she’d pushed her luck so much in recent months, she didn’t dare push it anymore.

But in daring so greatly, Donna’d won her heart’s desire, and more.

She was content to avoid pushing her luck anymore for quite some time.

Her blessings surrounded her, Jason on one side, Abby on the other. After several hours of slow and easy sensuality, punctuated by occasional frenzied orgasms, the three of them had decided to nap.

Donna had woken up sweaty, and satisfied with the universe, and her place in it.

If she was pregnant, and she didn’t believe she was, they would learn to be parents. Far more likely was learning the very same lessons with Abby’s child ... and Donna had loved watching, and helping, every attempt Jason and Abby had made to make a baby. Her husband and concubine were so beautiful together.

She knew his best was yet to come. His mother was lovely, and Donna had seen pictures of his father. Jason was going to be a very handsome man.

She’d never told anyone, but she hadn’t wanted to go to the Grimes’ party. Donna would have preferred to stay home, and disappear into a good book, but it was her duty to go, so go she’d gone.

Donna had thought Jason cute, socially awkward, but cute. And he’d been the ward of the hot House in local politics.

It seemed kismet ... and then they’d been caught.

Frustrated at her failure, she’d resolved she would succeed ... and she’d been pushing her luck, one way or another, ever since.

It was time to relax, and get married.

While normal brides might go more than a little crazy, she’d told her father what she wanted, and he’d make it happen, plus whatever else was required by the politics of the Karghold. So the wedding wasn’t her worry ... two weeks in San Francisco, whatever chores the House might have for them there, and building a life with Jason and Abby at Chorale South – those were her concerns.

And she wasn’t anxious about any of it at the moment.

Prima Nocta

Jason stirred in his sleep, and Abby’s arm reached out to embrace him. Donna’s lips sought his skin, anywhere they could reach, and found his shoulder, and kissed him.

None of them were truly close to being awake, but one of the intruders in their room watched, and smiled.

The other intruder was busy at the bedroom window, covering it with black cloth, somewhat slowly, as she was working by the illumination provided by a small flashlight, held in her mouth.

“Done, Mistress,” the woman at the window whispered, when she was finished. “I still don’t think you should do this...”

“Quiet,” the other woman whispered. She slowly, carefully, crawled up the bed, nudging Abby and Donna aside as she straddled Jason’s sleeping body.

Once she was where she wanted to be, she began to kiss his cheek, her breasts brushing his side.

“Jason,” she whispered, between kisses, “time to wake up.”

“Mmm?”

“Evil step-mommy has plans for you.”

Donna woke up slowly, gently shaken by the motion of the bed. She blinked several times. It was very dark in the room – normally some light from the security lamps around the house leaked through their curtains.

She reached out to caress Abby, on top of Jason, head in his crotch, thighs on either side of his face...

Donna’s eyes shot open, a sight which would have been comical, had there been enough light to see.

It wasn’t Abby.

There was a wet sound, and a chuckling from Jason’s waist.

“Be good, little slave, or wicked step-mother will spank. Tongue my ass, now that you’re awake.”

Slurping sounds resumed, and Donna smiled, before proceeding to do as she’d been told.

It wasn’t a nice smile, and if Kelly had been able to see it, that smile might have given Mistress Grimes pause.

Abby couldn’t see, but knew, just from the odors of lust, that whomever was sitting on her Master’s face wasn’t Donna.

And ... she smelled someone familiar ... she smelled Twilla. And that told her everything she needed to know.

“Mistress Kelly,” Abby said, “how may I serve you?”

She could smell her Master’s cum on Kelly’s breath.

“In a ... mmm ... in a moment ... I’ll be ... oh ... thirsty...”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Abby smelled Donna’s desire as well. She didn’t think Jason’s wife was happy about this visit, and had come to know Donna well enough to be worried about Milady’s eventual response.

She positioned herself at the head of the bed to wait.

Abby felt Twilla kneel beside her, and her old barn-mate’s hand touched Abby’s side, spelling out words in the old code Bella Notte’s slaves used.

“Mistress does not listen”

Abby put her hand on Twilla’s breast, and signed back.

Kelly lay back, impressed with Jason’s oral skills.

“Abby, feed me...” she said.

Kelly felt the slave straddle her lap, and a nipple was pressed to her mouth. She was pleased – Abby’s milk tasted different than Twilla’s, but every bit as tasty.

She dropped the nipple for a moment, and said, “Donna, you tasty little slut, get your Master ready to service me, as soon as he’d able. Put a condom on him, I’m off the pill.”

Kelly returned to Abby’s breast.

Jason was enjoying himself, although, listening to how Kelly was treating his wife, and concubine, he wanted to throw her out of the suite, on her ass, preferably.

He considered if he perhaps shouldn’t be enjoying himself, only to have Donna whisper, almost inaudibly, in his ear, “It’s okay.”

It amused him that both Abby and Donna were better cocksuckers than one of the Great Four – a nickname for the Grimes he’d heard from submissives in the house.

Every time Kelly called him ‘son’, or referred to herself as ‘step-mother’, his balls tried to implode. He wished the lights were on, as he wanted to memorize every inch of Kelly’s body.

Jason wondered if Donna’s mind was working the same way as his ... as much as he was going to enjoy himself, Mistress Kelly needed to be taught a lesson.

Kelly had forgotten one of the joys of teen-aged boys ... they might not be the best cocksmen, but they were eager, and recharged quickly. Kelly felt him adjusting himself, to make his hard-on more comfortable.

She had drained both Abby’s, and Twilla’s, breasts dry, and had Donna fetching juice from the kitchen.

When Donna returned, Kelly kept Jason’s head between her legs, as Twilla gave her a tumbler of juice.

“Donna, slut ... get your hookah, load it, fire it up. We need some smoke.”

Both Abby, and Twilla, declined, and Kelly sent them into the suite’s living room.

“Slut,” Kelly told Donna, “looks like you’re going to have to work a little harder now, since the cows have left the room.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The three of them sat, and smoked by the light of the single candle Donna had lit, and as Jason had very little experience with weed as yet, he became well, and truly, baked.

“Shit,” Kelly said, “you’re going to have to fuck near put it in for him.”

“Not a problem, Mistress. Whenever you’re ready, just like back on the pillows, and I’ll make sure you’re serviced.”

“This bowl is dead,” Kelly said, dropping her hose, and clumsily crawled up in the bed, knocking the whole hookah over in the process.

“Make him fuck me, slut. Make him fuck me hard.”

It wasn’t difficult to get Jason to do his part – their step-mother was one of the sexiest women Donna had ever known. The only issue was getting Jason to hit a steady rhythm, and not fuck Kelly like a spastic teenager.

After a half-hour of, at first tentative, but in the end, blatant, urging, it proved impossible to keep him to any rhythm at all, but luckily, Kelly seemed to be as lost in the kink, and cloud of bong smoke, as Jason.

Donna had to fight the giggles, hard, watching the two of them try to move together.

Even so, she found the sight of them together very exciting, and really wished her step-mother wasn’t being such a cunt. She didn’t like doing what she’d done, and wasn’t happy about what she was going to do the next evening.

It didn’t matter – Kelly, and the rest of her in-laws, needed to know who they were dealing with.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Kelly smirked. “Maybe I’ll come back again some night.”

Jason watched his wife’s face in the candlelight as Kelly left. Some of his buzz had worn off, and he knew his wife well enough to know she was planning something, he just wasn’t sure he wanted to know what.

Abby came back in.

“Come, Master, Milady ... shower, then sleep.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Donna said, helping Jason to his feet.

“Two days ‘til our wedding, Master,” Abby said. “It’s going to be a busy day.”

“But later,” Jason mumbled. “It’ll be busy later.”

Prima Nocta, Part Two

Jason knocked on Lori and Magda’s door.

It took a moment before Lori opened it, frowning as she saw Jason and Donna.

“What can I do for you? Aren’t you getting married tomorrow?”

“Exactly,” Jason replied.

“We decided it was time for a meeting of brides,” Donna said, “and groom.”

“Is that a hookah I see?” Magda asked, joining her roomie at the door.

“Yes, indeed,” Donna replied. “We figured we could all stand to chill some...”

“Oh, most definitely,” Magda said, ignoring her roommate, and pulling Jason in the door.

‘ *

“I can’t believe she did that,” Lori said. “On second thought, it’s Kelly, yeah, I can believe it. She can be a rampaging cunt when she wants to be.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“Well,” Donna said, “first off, he, Abby, and I are going to wear bright red scarves tomorrow, not tell anybody why.

“So ... the two of you want to wear scarves, too?”

Lori and Magda were stoned, but not too stoned to catch Donna’s meaning.

“Is he worth fucking?” Lori asked.

“Lori,” Donna replied, “have I ever fucked anyone who wasn’t?”

Jason like this part of Donna’s plan just fine.

Magda was twenty, slender, blonde ... she looked like an athlete, with enough curve to make her yummy, and a pretty smile. Jason liked her laugh ... not as much as he loved Donna’s, but still ... Magda was the tallest of them, and gave off a submissive vibe stronger than Donna and Abby combined.

Lori was sixteen, same age as Donna, and that’s pretty much where the similarity ended. The curvy fairy had fallen asleep on Lori, and there were a lot of girls who’d be rounding out later in life than they should have, because the fairy’s wand had expended all its charges on Lori. She had curly, almost black, hair, and seemed older than any of them.