Chapter 18D

On the way out the door, Neeka and I stopped to pick up my small duffel and her garment bag. Steve grinned at that, and I had to break the news to him.

"Sorry, Steve. Don't get your hopes up. This isn't overnight stuff."

"Hunh? Then what..."

"It's our uniforms."

"Uniforms?"

"Yes, you know; our costumes. We carry them around with us now so we don't have to go back home and change in case we get a call. It's a pain, but it's better than being late. We'll leave them in your trunk. OK?"

"Uh, sure."

Poor Steve looked like he had been slapped with another small dose of the reality of dating a member of a team like ours.

Steve drove us over in his boxy, four-door sedan. His cautious driving gave us plenty of time, so I turned on the radio and tuned in the salsa station in Port Charlotte. By the time we got there we were all moving to the music.

The apartment complex was one of those modern-style buildings that was put up before I was born. It was three stories high and all angles and patios and overhangs surrounding a big swimming pool on three sides. It was painted in a number of different pastel colors and there were lights all over whose only purpose seemed to be to show off the building. I thought either the owner wanted it to be a showplace or the architect was in love with his design.

The walkways on each level looked like a maze, passing behind some parts of the building and in front of others. The doors to the apartments were set in walls that faced every direction except directly toward the street or the pool. Moving in and out of this place must have been quite an ordeal. I couldn't see how you could ever get a sofa up those stairs and around all those corners.

At least three different stereos seemed to be competing to see which was the loudest and they were all playing a different type of music — rock, latin, and rap. The combination was disorienting and I found that if you wanted to keep your sanity, you either had to concentrate on listening to just one of them or try to ignore them all.

There were people all over the place. Some were on the small patios that overhung the courtyard wherever the walkway turned back into the building, some were around the pool, and some were in the pool, splashing and laughing. Most were holding drinks and the beverage of choice seemed to be beer. Judging from the number of cans and cups either lying around or tossed in the general direction of a trash can, quite a bit of beer had been drunk already and it was just now fully dark.

Most of the people looked like they were college students, but there were a few people who had to be at least thirty or so. I guessed that you had to either be young or be a real party animal to live in a place like this. I thought Steve's cousin must get most of his rest while he was on the road, because he sure wouldn't get much here if this sort of thing went on all weekend.

Steve led us up the stairs on one wing of the building to the end unit on the second floor. We had to go around four corners to get there. If you got too drunk in a place like this you might have to sleep with a friend, because you wouldn't stand a chance of finding your way back to your own place.

On the way up, I discovered that the apartment doors all faced a blank wall, which I thought was for privacy, not that the people living here cared much for that, because it looked like most of the doors were standing open, with people going in and out as they pleased.

The apartment we went into was very plush. It had a nice music system and a widescreen TV, too. I thought the furniture was a bit too 'male' with the chrome and leather sofa and the coffee table covered with clickers for all the electronics. A Tiffany lamp would have made it look much more homey. I didn't care for the maroon and brown plaid curtains either.

It all looked fairly new and well-treated. Apparently Steve's cousin wasn't one of the regular hosts for the ongoing wild parties. With the door shut, it was fairly quiet, too. By fairly, I mean you could still hear the jumbled music, but not the laughter and shouting from the pool and deck below.

Neeka and I made ourselves comfortable in the living area while Jim and Steve poked their heads into the fridge.

"We've got Coke and Coors," Jim announced. "Who wants what?"

"I'll take a beer," Neeka said. "Sam will have Coke."

"Hey!" I said, just to be contrary. "Maybe I want a beer, too."

Steve stuck his head around the cabinet and looked across the counter at us.

"How about it, Sam? Beer for you? Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you got plastered."

"No," I told him. "Don't waste it. I can't get drunk. Make mine a Coke."

Steve came out with a soft drink for both of us. I noticed that Jim was having a beer, though. I almost said something to him, but I squelched my maternal instinct just in time. There were two people here who would keep him from doing anything stupid, even if he did have one too many.

"Can't get drunk? Really?" Steve asked.

"Nope. It lasts about a minute, then I burn it off. It would just be wasted. You have one if you want," I said, pointing to his can of soda.

"Nah. Training. Have to wait until the season is over before I pollute my body with noxious chemicals. Wait 'til Prom Night. I can let loose then."

I waited to see if he would say anything else about the Prom, specifically who he might be thinking of inviting to go with him. One name in particular came to mind and her initials were SK. Steve just looked at me with his usual nice smile and his ruggedly handsome face that any girl would just die to have in her Prom Photo and said nothing else about it — the rat bastard.

I tried to keep the sigh to myself. I wondered if maybe he had already made a commitment to someone before we met. Maybe he wasn't sure if he wouldn't find someone else before the Prom. Maybe he didn't feel comfortable taking me to the Prom. Whatever his reason, I was darned if I was going to push him, pressure him, needle him, twist his arm, or slap him around until he talked. Not me. Well, not tonight, anyway.

"Let's go out on the patio and scope out the action," Steve said.

We followed him out the sliding glass door onto a deck that was just big enough for the four lounge chairs and a small table. You could bring a cooler out with you, but not much else. Any dancing or stuff would have to be done down on the main pool deck.

There was a partition between us and the other decks on our side of the building, but we could see right across to the others on the opposite and adjacent sides. The U-shaped courtyard faced south, so in the daytime, I could see this being a good place to lie out and catch some rays.

When I looked up, I saw that the decks were staggered and the ones on the third floor overlooked all the others. There were people on several of those and I saw a guy poke his head curiously around the partition of the one above us and peer down to check us out. I waved, and he waved back, but it was too noisy to talk without having to shout over the music. If you wanted privacy while sunbathing, this wouldn't be a good place. Because of the layout, you could have privacy inside your apartment, but anywhere outside was very public.

The ratio of guys to girls was high. It looked like there may have been one girl for every three guys. That was fine with me, because, as they taught us in our Economics section, short supplies made for high demand. I could stand being in demand. I saw one girl in a red bikini, running, laughing and shrieking as she was chased around until they cornered her by the diving board at the deep end.

The four guys grabbed her and hoisted her overhead and marched around the pool with her as though she were some kind of hunting trophy. Then they went to the edge of the pool and started counting. At the count of one, her bikini top was whipped off. At the count of two, her bottoms were yanked down her legs and at the count of three, they threw her into the pool, screaming and splashing. Then one guy took her top and tied it around his neck and another took her bottoms and put them on his head and all four ran back to their cooler for another round of beers.

The poor girl swam around in the pool for a bit while she worked up the courage to climb out, holding one hand between her legs and the other across her breasts while she made her way back through the crowd around the courtyard to where they were hanging out, amid cheers and whistles from the other people around the pool and those watching from the patio decks.

When she got to the guys who had stripped her, the two who had her swimsuit stood on either side of her with their trophies held high over her head. It was clear from the way they were talking to her, that they were going to give her clothes back, but she had to reach for them, and in the process, expose herself. The game, then, was which hand she would use and what part she would be willing to show.

The girl turned to the guy who had her bottoms and one-upped their game. She took both hands away and stood there boldly naked with one hand on her hip the other held out for the return of her bottoms. The guy's jaw dropped and so did the article of clothing he held, right into her outstretched hand. She didn't even turn away when she stepped back into them. Ignoring the guy holding her top for ransom, she accepted a beer from the third guy and took a big gulp from the can while everyone around cheered and applauded her being such a good sport. The guy holding her top gave it back then, but she didn't put it back on right away. Instead, she just draped it around her neck while she drank her beer.

"So, what do you think of the place," Steve asked.

"It's great! I wish I had brought my swimsuit," I said, grinning.

Steve wasn't watching what I was. He'd been checking out the action on the floors where the music was playing.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't think of that. I should have known you'd want to go in."

"I don't know about swimming, but I think I see how I could get a lot of free beer," I laughed.

"Wait a while. Sometimes they have wet t-shirt contests. The girls who enter get all the beer they want. But you said... Oh! You're not interested in the beer, are you?"

His mind was clear as glass. He thought about watching me dancing in a soaking-wet paper-thin rag and his grin got real big. Then he remembered that every other guy in the place would be watching me as well and his grin fell away and left him with his teeth clenched. He wasn't even torn between the two, he just reacted possessively. Then the near-snarl vanished and his lips turned back up as he put on a fake smile for my benefit. He was obviously trying his darnedest not to say something super-macho that might tread on my independence and the strain was showing.

I just batted my eyelashes and pretended not to notice the spot he had put himself in. After all, I hadn't suggested the contest, he had. Now that I knew about it, I really wanted to do it, but not if it was going to be a big deal for Steve. I'd rather have Steve be happy than to be in any old contest.

Then the whole business backfired on me when Steve tried to find some way to change the subject and fell back on something that I'd hoped he had forgotten about.

"So, when do we get to see that video you told me about?" He asked.

I was startled, but prepared.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot to bring it. Maybe some other time," I said, consolingly.

"I have it right here," Neeka said. "Where is the DVD player?"

I don't know what surprised me more, that she had brought the disc or that she had managed to keep me from knowing that she had snuck it out of my room and had brought it with her.

"Because you were so focused on the Hunk here, I could have smuggled the bike along and you wouldn't have noticed," she said silently and way too smugly.

I was speechless. I thought I had found a way to chicken out of letting Steve watch the video. But now that I couldn't back out, I found that I really wanted to see it myself. I had to know if it was as hot to watch as it was to make. I still had lots of reservations about this, but the big one was what Steve would think after he had seen what had really gone on in the barn while he waited out in the car. He'd seemed eager enough to watch it when he thought it was Bud and Jim banging me. Would he choke when he saw the kinds of stuff I really got up to 'on the job'? The answer could cost me a lot and I was trying not to imagine how badly this could go.

I kept my mouth shut while Neeka led us back inside the apartment. Geek that she was, she figured out the expensive home-theater system in no time, so I didn't even have a chance to think of a compelling reason not to watch it. I just sat there, clutching my Coke as a sinking feeling in my stomach accompanied the sight of the disc being sucked into the player.

We all sat on the couch with Neeka and me between Steve and Jim. Neeka tapped the remote and the show started.

The first image to come up was me standing in the stall with my arms strapped behind me and the steel cable hooked to my rings. I was looking past the camera with a kind of scared/curious look. I started to explain the scene, but I changed my mind. I decided that this would either be good or bad all on its own, with no confusing narration from me.

The quality was remarkably good. The bright lights in the barn made everything bright and sharp on the TV screen. Even the sound was good. All that hay muffled any background noise so all you heard was what was happening on camera. This meant that Smith, Jones, and Winslow's parts in the larger story wouldn't be there and what went on in front of the camera would be all there was.

It was weird seeing myself doing something that I remembered doing. The point of view seemed wrong. It was as if I was watching someone else playing the part of me. I supposed that was good. It meant I could be more objective about my performance.

Roxy walked into view. She was just as gorgeous on screen as she had been in person. She maneuvered me into posing for the camera as she tried to coax me into telling her who I was and I noticed how her touching me played as well on camera as it had in real life. I felt myself getting turned on all over again, and I couldn't tell if it was from remembering or from watching.

Their sound system was better than I expected, too. Every word she said to me was clear, even when she was whispering in my ear.

I shivered when I saw her almost give me an orgasm from playing with my nipples. I sure looked hot on the screen. For a moment, I let myself relive the feeling, but I choked back a moan before I got too carried away and started a competing performance.

When she hoisted me by my rings, I felt Steve tense up beside me. I stole a glance at his face and saw that his jaw was set and the muscles in his neck were tight. He didn't relax until Roxy announced that I was enjoying myself. He tensed up again when Roxy sucked on my clit, but it was a different bunch of muscles. When he straightened his leg out and shifted his butt, I knew he was getting turned on watching her bring me off.

Jim squirmed a bit, too. Watching girl-on-girl sex sure has a powerful effect on boys! I could see the bulge in his slacks very clearly.

When I came on screen, even Neeka was breathing hard. She seemed to be empathizing more with me on screen than with me sitting next to her. When I screamed on screen, she jumped a bit and clenched her fists. I could feel her nearly cum herself.

While I enjoyed my climax on the video, everyone on the couch tried to get control of their breathing. Steve cleared his throat, but no one made a comment or even looked away from the TV.

The camera stayed with me while I tried to signal my need for cock to anyone watching. I thought this might be a weak point in my performance, but it seemed to come across fairly well.

When the three stoner punks came into the scene, they somehow managed to spend most of their screen time blocking me with their butts. It wasn't until one of them got between my legs that you could really see me again. Smith had zoomed in for the insertion shot and that made the punk's cock look much larger than it actually was. His 'this bitch is tight' line and my making it hard for him to stick it in me really sold the idea that he was raping a virgin.

The rest of that part went pretty well, I thought. The timing was credible. No one blocked me. Everyone came on cue and the tight shot of my cum-covered breasts was beautiful. There was even an extreme close-up of a bit of cum running down the side of my cheek that I thought was a great touch. Smith was certainly a good cameraman. I already regretted losing his talent, if not his criminal bent and sadistic nature.

I was the one who tensed up when Roxy came back onscreen and we did the 'clit sacrifice' scene. Everyone was very still up until she flicked the tip of the dagger through my clit and them everyone jumped out of their skin — me included. Seconds later, when she drove the knife through my chest, everyone jumped again and I almost screamed.

I was suddenly acutely aware that the room was totally silent, but for the sound of my surprised gasp on the video. Even the music in the courtyard had paused for dramatic effect. The sight of me dying on screen had everyone frozen in their seats.

The me on screen got quite still and her breathing slowed to inaudibility as she died. I knew it was really from me going into a trance, but it still worked as a death-scene. The camera zoomed in nice and close on my face, glistening with sweat and cum, and my boobs, with the hilt of the dagger poking up between them, barely visible behind the curve of my flesh.

That last bit was good, because it hid the fact that the dagger was moving with my heartbeat. That was something I couldn't slow because I needed to keep my blood flowing to heal the wound.

The shot ran on and on with nothing moving. I thought it might be a little too long, actually. Finally, the hilt of the dagger started to rise out of me. When it disappeared out of frame, the camera suddenly shot back to a wide shot as a startled Smith bumped the control.

The shot of me breaking free was great. I wanted to cheer as I tore out of my bonds, kicked out of my restraints and took on the aspect of The Dragon. When I roared out my defiance to my murderers, it was one of those great moments in film that you remember forever. I wanted to give myself a standing ovation.

When my kicking the hay bale knocked the camera over and the screen went black, I was actually disappointed that it was over. I looked left and right to see everyone's reaction.

"Sam, could I see you in the bedroom," Steve said with a funny catch in his throat. "Please."

"Sure," I said, wondering if letting him see the video had been the serious mistake I thought it could be. I got up and meekly followed him out of the room so he could say whatever he needed to in private.

Steve shut the door behind us and pushed on it to make sure that it had latched. He turned to me with the strangest look on his face and put out a hand and pointed at me.

"That's a nice dress," he said. "But if you still have it on in three seconds, I'm going to tear it to shreds."

It took at least two seconds for me to figure out that Steve's strange look was that of a guy who had been aroused past his ability to control his actions. It took all of one second for me to get the dress off. Exactly half a second after that, Steve tackled me onto the bed and proceeded to fuck me harder and rougher than I had ever imagined was possible. He didn't even bother to take his own clothes off. As far as I could tell, his cock just burst out of his slacks the instant before he slammed it into my pussy and knocked the wind right out of me.

Steve was totally out of control. He fucked me with absolutely no consideration for anything but pure, raw animal passion. He pounded his cock into me as hard as he possibly could, and he kept up a triphammer pace that was simply unbelievable. The mattress slid sideways off the bed. The lamp and everything on the bedside table hit the floor. The headboard banged into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. He dragged me around the room, slamming me against every piece of furniture, the walls, and finally the floor as he snarled and growled like a wild beast.

It was the best fuck of my life. I put my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his hips and held on tight for the whole wild ride. I came again and again, better and bigger and louder each time until I lost touch with the world and blissfully passed out.

I woke up on the floor with Steve on top of me, snoring softly into my ear. At first, I didn't want to move, but the telephone receiver was under my back and it was uncomfortable. I eased Steve off me and picked his limp body up in my arms. Sometime in the last hour he had lost his slacks and briefs, but he was still wearing his shirt, socks and shoes. I kicked the mattress back onto the bed and lay him down on it before joining him on the rumpled and twisted sheets. As I stroked his cheek, his eyes fluttered open.

"Oh, hell, Sam. I'm sorry. I couldn't stop myself. That was the absolutely most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"So, you liked my movie?"

"Oh, shit yes! Pardon my French. I just thought I had seen hot before. Huh! That was the hottest! Damn! You're fucking amazing!"

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You're pretty amazing yourself, big guy. I hope we didn't break too much stuff in here."

Steve looked around at the demolished room.

"Oh, no!" He said. "Are you all right?... Oh, right. Stupid question." He started to chuckle, but it looked like the effort hurt.

"A better one would be are you all right?" I asked.