Chapter 17: It Never Rains

Once she calmed down - in all that took about an hour and included some more tongue play above and below - I asked about her shopping trip where she met Darnel. That was easy enough. Then I got into details, starting with her purse. “You had a fake license, a little cash, no credit cards and no phone - like a refugee. I did not think wealthy American girls could do that. You purse was mainly a brush and makeup. Did they take the rest?”

“Well, the money thing is all Mumszy, so I don’t spend too much without a record. Her rules are that I can only shop where she has established an account, it keeps me in line and makes me dependent. So I don’t carry credit cards. I would lose them anyway, I am sort of absent minded about things when I am out. My car has one of those number pads, I leave my main purse with more money plus a phone and keys and stuff in the car, which is locked.”

That made a lot of sense or was the act of a real asshole for a mother. Maybe the two are not mutually exclusive. “You know, cars are easy to break into, and a purse is a tempting target.”

“My step-daddy ... that is Mark, fixed that for me when he taught me to drive. The handle of my brush holds this key fob thing, if I am in the driver’s seat the car will start without the key, I just push a button. If the brush is not there, even the key won’t start it. The big armrest is actually a secure safe, steel and welded in place, with a combination and a goofy fingerprint lock.”

That was a good idea, I had to give Mark his due props. Suddenly I thought of that Bond film, with Diana Rigg and the one-and-done Bond with the goofy name; there the marriage of Bond to a criminal’s daughter makes him family, and the criminal helps Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Plus there was the whole Star Wars thing about turning somebody “to the Dark side.” Could I do that to Mark? I mean, considering just how the FBI had turned on him.

“They never saw you with your car? I suppose they could have seen you arrive...”

“Oh no, I had been there for two hours already, and the guy who talked to me was hot from being outside just before we met. He was sure not to approach until he had cooled a little ... maybe 10 minutes ... but girls notice such things.”

“So what you are saying that your abductors only got your fake name, no credit card and no phone. Still, they might trace you through the store camera, but it would take an effort and pull. Plus, your car is still in the lot. At that mall I know they track the plates entering and leaving, allowing the car seven days ... they say it encourages hookups which is good for business. Plus it is cheaper.”

“Yeah, I had heard that too. So yes, that is all the black guys got.”

“Fancy a ride? You won’t see much, but I would prefer to have you along for any questions.”

“Sure ... uh, clothes?”

I had something - a painter’s outfit complete with large hat. As long as she could not see it, she was okay. I explained the vehicle was a small extended-cab pickup and that she would be locked in the tiny back seat where she could not be seen easily. If cops stopped us the goggles were for an eye injury and she had no ID on her, it never hurts to have an answer ready. I was driving her because I had to go out to do recon on her car and I might have more questions. Plus, she was nice to be with.

It was a quick drive to the mall on a Sunday. My main concerns were cameras and the location of her car. They had cameras at the entrance/exit and at each end of each aisle, plus good coverage near the doors. But there was nothing focused on individual spots. Her car was still there, untouched. It was in a corner slot, outside of camera view, so Darnel couldn’t back up the tapes to see her get out. I also spotted where I could make the drop. Less than an hour later we were back at the Fort. No stops, no hassle, but she clearly appreciated getting out of the house even if she was sitting on the floor in a back seat that was cruel to put a child into.

It gave her time to chatter at me. Since I was driving, I was not expected to chatter back. So good all around.

When we got back my fun systems were back on line - she played with “Little Zero” while I took off her coverall - so I asked her what she wanted. I said all choices were on the table.

What she said she wanted started with romantic sex in bed, except she was too wound up for that. So we got naked, rinsed off, and did a whole lot of positions in bed. It started with missionary but then in no particular order went through cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, woman flat on top, doggy, side entry, spoons, and finally we finished with me on top of her from behind. That really is the best as long as she is in goggles, she has such a great body that she looks and feels so good that way. She liked the feeling of me fucking her pussy from the back, especially when I climaxed. It was a lot of fun, but she didn’t get off because we kept switching positions. So I flipped her on her back and did the creampie thing to get her over. That took less than 5 minutes.

She never thought I would do that, when I did without warning she got a little crazy. To her it felt a lot better than she thought it would, and really, I did not get much of the pie filling before she got off. Well, she did not have to have just one, I kept eating till I was sated. She kept the cream flowing. By the end she was a limp rag.

Afterwards she said that, when we met again, she would prefer to see my face always, because I wasn’t “ugh-ugly like those black guys.”

I said that actually I was so handsome she would never let me get behind her. I said right away that I liked her face and tits, so being face-to-face was hardly a hardship for me. But still, her bottom and back were real nice - nicer than the face and tits of my other girlfriends - and would be hard to give up. For now, I could see more of her face, but the damn goggles were reflective and seeing my own face was distracting. She laughed openly at that - her first sincere laugh in my company without any trace of the tension edge to it. That just meant she was falling harder for me.

Good thing I was heartless or it would be hard to let her go.

That must have flipped some sort of mental switch because then she got serious and wanted to talk about my other girlfriends.

I proved that I didn’t have any. “What girl would have me if I was away from her so much ... on a weekend besides? Not a single phone call! American girls can’t live like that.”

She got real cheerful since that made perfect sense. No woman in LA, especially a hot one, would tolerate such treatment.

Next we had to discuss practical aspects of her meeting Wednesday with Mark. She would need clothes, stylish lunch clothes, which meant either going home after a Tuesday release, or spending an hour in a mall after a Wednesday morning release. I had thought about her just stopping at her house, picking up clothes, then spending the night at a hotel, but her lack of credit cards killed that idea. I said she should not be alone in her house, it was unlikely but it could be watched by folks who meant her harm. She slipped into ‘spoiled teenager mode’ (because she was relaxed now) and started to argue, but I chilled her out with two words. “Dry ice.” When I said that she got very quiet and hugged me. Even a 1% chance of that was too much.

Gracie purely hated her Mom, but she would not even wish that on her.

She sat a minute then said, “You have been so very good to me, making me forget the bad things. I admit that I want to be childish, to have freedom to do anything I want. Plus, part of me says I should try to get away from you, to be sure you don’t ... well ... change your mind. Or you could be fibbing, something tells me you are good at that. But maybe I don’t need to leave Tuesday. Is one more night with you is okay?”

She was on the edge of tears, so I said that yes, she could stay. I would release her Wednesday morning. She could be sure of it. I proved it. “Otherwise I never would have taken the risk of our little drive in the truck.” Since actions speak louder than words that told her I was not fibbing. Which brought another emotional release. I took her in my arms, because I know that is what people do, and the waterworks started. I let it run it’s course. When it was over I had something else to say.

“This is important, you can’t go home and you can’t use the mall where your car is. You will be wearing something you will need to replace before you go shopping for a lunch outfit. As soon as you are in your car, drive someplace else, quick and unstylish, get just enough clothes to wear. Then go to a place a man would not shop, but where you have an account. Dress and do the makeup there before you leave. Then do not leave your car until you are at the place where you are going to meet Mark. You have not told me where that is, and you shouldn’t. The guy who picked you up Friday and his gang do not know what happened and it is driving him from his normal insane to truly demented, he will do rash things. He really wants to talk to you about it in a bad way, then he wants to make sure you don’t talk to anybody else about it. He has long arms, but you are safe for a day with Mark. But until Mark is involved, not even the cops are safe.”

She took my warning to heart.

Rather than leave her sitting alone in her room I took her to the kitchen with me - in the regular part of the house with a window that showed the garden and the fence, but nothing else to say where the house is and she could not see anyway. There we talked and drank wine while I made us a meal. It was a big meal (imagine lasagna done as a spanish dish, plus there was wine) so after dinner we both wanted to lay down for a bit, back in her bed.