Chapter 16

"Can I help you?" Tim watched as his slender blonde wife struggled with the back zipper of her dress. It was Sunday night and they were going to be flying back to Washington late that night rather than waiting for the morning flight. It had been a very productive weekend, and Tim felt confident that he and Ron had made the right decisions. The nomination was within reach!

Tim moved over to Sylvie and put his arms around her, holding her close to him as she stood looking in the mirror.

"You're a pretty good lay, you know!" he whispered into her ear.

Sylvie blushed, thinking of how Tim had held her so tenderly only a few moments before on their big double bed. The sweetness of their love making only made her sadder when she realized that she still had to meet with that dreadful man, their ex-valet Frank, on Monday in order to retrieve the blackmail tapes. She sighed and let her husband hug her, closing her eyes and wishing that there was nothing to mar her happiness with the young senator.

"Start thinking about what changes you want to make in the White House, honey. It won't be long now!" he told her. Then as an afterthought he added, "And I'll fuck you just as well there as I did just now... maybe better!"

Tim couldn't help laughing as he imagined himself doing the most obscene things with his wife in every room of the White House. And then of course there was Mrs. Grayson, too! He was certain that he would be the best president the country had ever had, and part of it would be due to his erotic stamina. Tim pulled back from Sylvie and zipped her up. Sylvie felt the knife- like turn inside her stomach that happened whenever Tim mentioned the presidency... recently, that is. Whatever happened, she must see to it that Frank had no dealings with that columnist, and that the tapes were destroyed once arid for all!

Down the hall, Arlene dressed hurriedly. She wanted to go down to the living room and get her briefcase that she'd left there after a work session earlier in the day. There were a few details that she wanted to discuss with Ron again before they got to the office the next morning. The family plane would carry them all back to Washington that night, and Arlene hoped to get some sleep during the trip. She certainly hadn't gotten much over the weekend, what with Friday night extending so far into Saturday and work sessions all day Saturday and Sunday. Now she felt tired and wanted nothing so much as a complete rest... a short trip to the Bahamas, perhaps, something like that. But she knew that there would be no rest for any of them now until Tim Cassidy was in the White House, and everything had to wait for that happy event.

She was just about to go out the door when there was a soft knock. She didn't expect Ron, and he rarely knocked anyway, so Arlene thought that perhaps it was Sylvie coming to speak to her about something. She had been thinking a great deal about her cousin since that night when Erick and Ron had forced the young maid Ella to make love to her. More than anything, the lascivious evening had made her regret that she and her cousin were no longer close. And she knew that she herself was to blame. After all, they had once been like sisters and now they spoke mainly of the weather or some other inconsequential subject.

She opened the door, hoping that it would be Sylvie and that she could get across something of what she felt.

"Ella!" The small Irish maid stood timidly in the doorway.

"May I come in, Miss Pickering?" she asked.

Arlene flushed and motioned Ella in. "Why... why, of course!" she stammered. "And you mustn't ever, ever call me Miss Pickering again. My name is Arlene!"

Ella stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, and then, embarrassed that she had forgotten her manners, Arlene asked her to sit down. Ella sat daintily on a Louis XV chair, wringing her hands in consternation.

"Yes... yes, I will," she mumbled. The vision of their obscene love-making hung heavily between them, and both women remembered with precision each tender caress, each warm word between them.

"Can I... is there something I can help you with?" Arlene inquired. After all, this young maid had helped her more perhaps than she would ever realize. Through her, Arlene had re- established her own right, her own intrinsic value in the face of the two Cassidy brothers. She knew that she still loved Ron, probably always would, but now she also knew that there would always be a struggle between them, and that she must be on guard against any attempt he might make to completely undermine her will.

"There... there's something you must know!" Ella stammered out. She had been thinking about it all weekend, and finally she realized that the only person she could talk to would be Arlene. Surely she would know some way to help Sylvie Cassidy get rid of Frank!

The two women spoke for about 15 minutes, and then Ella left the room--but not without a tender embrace from Arlene before they parted. Arlene had promised her that no harm would come to Sylvie and that they would stop Frank's vicious attempt at blackmail.

The first person she had to talk to was Ron.

Washington's streets were glistening wet as they sped through the city. Tim and Sylvie were in their own car and Tim was driving. Arlene could see the green Buick turn the corner in front of their limousine as she and Ron continued going straight to their apartment house.

"She wouldn't tell me a damned thing!" Ron said to Arlene. "Denied the whole thing to the end. The way I see it we've got to get to Frank without Sylvie's help. Obviously she thinks she's the only one who can handle him... and about that I'm certain she's wrong!"

"Yes," said Arlene. "She's shown bad judgment before!"

"You can say that again," Ron replied grimly.

"Oh, it's all my fault... If only I had helped her when she first sent for me... If only I had let her confide in me!"

Arlene knew now that that was the original reason that Sylvie had asked Arlene to come to Grandville. She had needed an ally against the Cassidys, against Tim who paid little attention to her then, and against Ron who thought of her as an object to help Tim get elected Senator, and most of all against Erick who would go to any lengths to make her give in to his sexual demands. Arlene had not helped, and Sylvie had given in to Erick, and that was when the tape had been made.

"All that's water under the bridge," Ron said pragmatically. "What's important is now... and the NOMINATION!"

Arlene realized that he was right, and later that night in Ron's apartment they set about trying to locate Frank. They discovered that he had moved from the original apartment that Tim had personally located for his former valet. They would not be able to trace his steps until the next day, and that meant that their best course would be to follow Sylvie when she went to meet him.

Arlene slept fitfully that night, realizing that the next day would be so important to all of them. Its course would determine whether or not Tim reached his final goal, or had his wife and his brother's name headlined in every paper in the country. His career might never recover should the latter event occur!

"Sleep!" said Ron tersely beside her... but she knew that he too was awake and thinking about what was going to happen.

The taxi driver smiled broadly. He had recognized Sylvie Cassidy even though she was wearing her darkest glasses and had pushed her gleaming blonde hair back under a cap. Realizing that the lovely young Senator's wife was in no mood for conversation, he refrained from speaking to her. He was content enough to have such a celebrity in his taxi, although he did wonder why she had not taken a limousine and why she was going to such a middle-class neighborhood. From what he had read about the Cassidys, they hung out with the cream of Washington... with the Ambassadors and the socialites and even with the President and his entourage.

He watched the young woman as she walked away from him down the cement sidewalk. He tried to memorize everything about her so that he could tell his wife and kids when he got home. He had seen The Sylvie Cassidy!

Sylvie was wearing a light top coat that covered her dark burgundy-colored dress. The dress was high-necked and long- sleeved and more suitable to winter than to the month of April. Nevertheless, its warmth gave Sylvie courage as she approached the building she dreaded to enter.

The front door was just slightly ajar, and Sylvie stood for what seemed an eternity before she entered. She had little hope left that Frank would not ask some other obscene deed from her before giving her the tapes and agreeing to omit any mention of her own misdeeds from his forthcoming book of memoirs. She had decided within herself that she had no choice but to submit. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and if she had to degrade herself again to save her husband from humiliation, she would do so. After all... she herself had created this horrible situation by her moment of weakness with her husband's youngest brother, Erick, and there was no one now to get her out of it but herself!

To bolster her nerves, Sylvie had drunk several White Russians before leaving her elegant town house some distance away. The vodka and white Creme de Cacao had slipped easily to her near- empty stomach, and had given her just the dulling effect that she needed to face the afternoon. She had not reckoned with the effect the alcohol would have as it mingled with the amphetamines and tranquilizers in her system. As she was already pulled between high and low by the two interacting drugs, the alcohol created a dizzy, spinning effect, and she could feel all sorts of strange thoughts racing through her mind as her body felt powered by the false energy she had created.

She entered the building and knocked at the door with a timidity that made her even more frightened of what was going to happen. She knocked again louder, as if to allay her own fears.

Frank came to the door, opening it and smiling at her with his deceptively mild-mannered servant's air. Sylvie entered as the former valet ushered her politely in, and then stood uncertainly by the door with her arms hanging loosely at her sides.

Even though she had been there only once before, every detail of the apartment seemed etched in her mind. She looked around her, a doomed expression on her face, and then turned to Frank.

"Please sit down, Mrs. Cassidy," he said. "Won't you have something... it's almost tea time..."

"No... I only came for the tapes..." she said abruptly. "You promised..."

"Oh, yes... the tapes... But Mrs. Cassidy, I'm disappointed. I was sure you would want to go over the rest of the book with me!"

Sylvie realized that she ought to know the whole truth. She couldn't just ignore the fact that even without incriminating tapes, the book could paint the entire family in such a bad light that it would ruin her husband's chances for re-election. There were any number of unscrupulous newspapermen and publishers who would give anything to get their hands on Frank's writings. Somehow, she had to persuade him to cancel the entire project... somehow.

Frank helped her out of her coat.

"Now, if you'll sit down... I'm sure you'd like a little brandy at least." He was already on his way to the kitchen, where Sylvie presumed he kept the brandy. She did not protest. She would need all the help she could get and the brandy would taste good. She sat down on the sofa and tried to keep from looking at all the photos of the Cassidys... but one of Mrs. Thelma Cassidy, her husband's mother, kept catching her eye. No matter what, Sylvie thought, she must protect her husband! She thought of how delighted Mrs. Cassidy would be to prove her daughter-in-law an incompetent promiscuous fool, even if it did ruin Tim's career! Sylvie determined to do anything to prevent that from happening!

When Frank returned with the brandy bottle, Sylvie felt very light-headed as she said, "I am prepared to do anything you want to get the tapes and your word that you will not publish a book about the Cassidys!"

Frank stopped in the middle of the room, and appeared startled for a second. Then his face broke into a smile in which only the traces of his servile valet's smile could be seen. He was a different man. Already his life had changed so much during his time away from the Cassidys that Frank was feeling his health undergo a rapid improvement. He moved forward again, his tall somberly dressed form slightly stooped with age, but still impeccable, still crisp and presentable. He offered Mrs. Cassidy the snifter glass of brandy and set the small serving tray down.

"In that case," he said, "we should adjourn immediately to the workroom!"

"The workroom?" Sylvie inquired. "You mean in there... ?" She pointed toward the bedroom where the tape recorder was and where he had forced her into a horrible, unwilling intimacy.

"Yes... but in the other door."

Sylvie had never even noticed another door, but now as she hesitantly followed the valet, she saw that indeed there was one on the other side of the small bedroom. When Frank turned to make sure she was following, he smiled approvingly and said, "I'm glad you're bringing your brandy... we may be some time in here!"

A shudder went through Sylvie. She was thinking all sorts of wild thoughts. If all he wanted to do was make love to her, certainly she could do that. After all, she had already done so once, under the influence of a drug, true... but certainly she would survive it a second time, no matter how distasteful she found it! She tried to steel herself against his demands for her body, telling herself that the flesh meant nothing... that she could remain mentally above it all... and afterward... dear God, afterward she would have what she had come to get! She sipped the brandy gratefully, hoping it would dull her senses even more when the time came. Certain that she was right, she was glad that she had resisted all of Ron's efforts to drag the entire story out of her. She had lied to him, telling him that the maid must have misunderstood her conversation--that she had been talking to a Mrs. Franks about some masking tape for Tim. Soon it would be all over and she would be free, and Ron and Tim would not have been dragged into it.

Sylvie had hardly noticed her surroundings as she entered the other room. She had supposed it to be some kind of studio that Frank had set up for himself. To her surprise, she saw that it was filled with all kinds of metal gadgets, some of them hanging from chains on the walls and others standing in corners. She had never seen anything like them, and her heart filled with fear that Frank wanted to use some of them on her!

As she shrank back, however, Frank propelled her forward and closed the door behind them.

"Don't be afraid. Nothing I do will hurt you."

Sylvie stumbled backward away from him.

"I'm so glad you decided to go along with me," Frank continued. "A young woman of your intelligence... of your... how shall I put it... propensities... know how? Surely my little needs will be very easy for you!"

"What are you talking about!" Sylvie screamed, looking frantically around her.

"I'm talking about you and me, Mrs. Cassidy. We hit it off rather well together once. In memory of that time, I have a little program planned. I've been planning it for some time, and I know you won't want to disappoint me by not participating."

"The tapes... the book... you'll give me everything... You'll promise... ?" In spite of her fear, Sylvie tried to remain strong. She would have little chance of happiness for the rest of her life if she didn't.

"Oh, of course! All yours!" Frank flicked a button on the side of the wall, and suddenly the room was filled by the sounds of the tapes. Sylvie's own voice entreated Erick to fuck her harder and harder. Sounds of her husband's brother's cock entering her own blonde pussy were magnified a thousand times in the small room. She put her hands over her ears, but it did not stop the sound.

"The manuscript... what I've finished of it... is over there. Perhaps you'd like to thumb through it?"

Sylvie moved swiftly toward a platformed desk, and turned the first page of a thick black binder. Her eyes grew wide with horror as she read: The Cassidys are a peculiar bunch; unlike most living creatures who are content with simpler pleasures, they like sucking and fucking more than anything else. Having had the privilege of serving the Cassidys for over fifty years I can affirm that every single one of them has shown a decided talent for eroticism from its most banal forms to the most bizarre. Starting with Jenson Cassidy and his wife Thelma, going right on to visiting brothers and cousins, including the Cassidy children, Tim, Ron and Erick, their women, and the latest of the Cassidys, Mrs. Tim Cassidy. This book intends to act as a definitive portrait and clear up any questions that the general public may have about the famous family.

Sylvie turned the pages and saw descriptions of the crudest sort of acts that were purported to have taken place between her mother-in-law and the since deceased father of the Cassidy tribe. Further on, there were descriptions of the young Cassidy boys with their teenage girl friends, and later of their more sophisticated exploits as young men. Sylvie did not dare to turn to the chapter which she was sure must deal with her. She was about to turn toward Frank and tell him just how disgusting she thought the manuscript was, when she felt his arms entwining around her waist. She fought and screamed, but he carried her kicking all the way over to the corner, where she found herself propped upon a sort of altar.

"Would you like to undress or shall I do it for you?" Frank asked politely. "Don't worry, I will give you a chance to read the manuscript more fully in a few moments."

Sylvie looked at the despicable man in front of her. To think that the Cassidys had trusted him as a member of the family for all those years and now... Frank thrust out his hand and started to pull at her dress.

"No!" she cried, defiantly. "I'll do it myself!" She began to disrobe hurriedly, taking off her cap first and letting her golden hair cascade to her shoulders. Her dress came off with a sharp down-pull on the back zipper. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the helplessness of her position, and it was all she could do to keep from sobbing as she pulled her slip up over her head and stood before the ex-servant in her panties and stockings and the black brassiere that she had decided to wear that day.

"Oh, lovely, lovely!" Frank said, applauding her soundlessly. The lewd tape continued to spin its ugly sounds throughout the room, and Sylvie trembled with rage and despair.

"You don't mind if I do the rest, do you? I would rather like that, I think!"

Frank moved toward her, and she struggled with herself to remain calm. She shut her eyes tightly as revulsion shivered through her nerves and she felt his hands gently pushing against her inner thighs, his fleshy palms slowly pulling her knees apart and sliding hotly up the inner softness of her thighs. She jerked involuntarily as they passed the protective covering of her long stockings and skittered across the sensitive tanned surface of her nakedly exposed flesh between the stocking tops and her sheer black panties. Frank's breath was coming in heavy snorts as his fingers made light contact with the thin silken crotchband up between her full soft thighs.

She groaned helplessly as his fingers rummaged on the outside of the flimsy panties, pushing the softness of the smooth material into the narrow quivering slit of her vagina. She shrank away indignantly, but he continued to play teasingly, his fingers pulling gently at the soft golden hairs that protruded from the tight elastic legbands.

I must endure it... I MUST! Sylvie told her self repeatedly, trying to remain calm.

His middle finger slipped suddenly under the narrow elastic legband and flicked lewdly at the moist red opening of her pussy beneath, bringing a protesting groan from Sylvie. She could feel his eyes feasting hungrily on her secret feminine flesh up between her legs that belonged to her husband Tim, and to no one else! Her tears streamed in tiny rivulets as she struggled to stop the lewd outrages he was visiting upon her unwilling body, but the sudden sight of the book of obscene "memoirs" on the desk across from her stopped her. There was no hope, she had gotten herself into this and the tape of her voice was playing to prove it! She could only hope that he would take her quickly enough before she lost control and did something to make him angry.

"I'll just take them off, now!" Frank declared, and she shut her eyes again, feeling the smooth nylon drawing slowly over her voluptuously rounded hips and thighs and exposing the whole of her soft golden-haired pussy.

"Just as beautiful as I recall!" Frank sighed, pulling the flimsy silken panties all the way off and staring longingly at the blonde hair-covered "vee" of Sylvie's trembling pussy.

Frank stood back, and then he stepped up onto the platform on which Sylvie stood, still clad in her garter belt and stockings and her black brassiere. Frank reached behind her and easily unfastened the clasp of the brassiere, releasing her firm, full, cream-like breasts to his hungering eyes. His fingers ran lightly over their pulsing brown tips and he chuckled to himself as she pulled away. Suddenly he was lifting her arms upward, and Sylvie felt something snapping over each of her wrists. She looked and saw that she had been strapped to the wall! Nausea rose and she screamed at him.

"Please, let me go... let me go! I promise you don't have to strap me down. I'll do anything you want, I tell you, anything!"