Chapter 17: Cruel Music

The glow of the fireplace touched the right side of Angique's face. It also warmed her bare right shoulder and part of her leg. While sipping tea she once more tried to shrug off the thin layer of melancholy that stuck to her lately. She insisted that it could be easily ignored, but if so, why did she have to remind herself so often?

Of course it was all about the lying tramp. What the fuck was so special about her? It'd been months now. And the slut could hardly compete with girls Angique had had in the past, could she? To be sure, she was way out of league compared to girls she used now, like sweet, heartbreakingly loyal Bobbi or the lovely fat-titted Valerie. And she certainly was a dilettante compared to Ishtar, legendary goddess of whores.

She looked over the rim of her teacup, watching the naked woman lying in front of the fire. She might not be young anymore. Her body might be skinny and her tits may have lost some of their firmness, though her nipples still stood out like fingertips. There were spidery lines around her eyes. And she knew, without looking, that the woman's cunt lips were stretched and loose. Her sphincter gapped from serving many fat cocks and strap-on dildo's.

But Ishtar was a glorious slut. She was like her namesake, the whore-goddess of Babylon. She was open and available like the sacred priestess-prostitutes of old, spreading their thighs in service to their gods of carnal bliss. She licked women through unending strings of orgasms. She sucked cock like no one and presented her ass with the age-old grace of a well-trained slave. She never hesitated — she was always ready.

Such a pity she also was a cheating slut, betraying her Mistress as soon as a chance offered itself. Her lying eyes were full of devotion, while she already planned her newest betrayal. Her soft voice spoke in adoration while her cunt ached to be abused by strange cock and busy tongues.

"Ah," Angique sighed, turning another unread page of the book resting in her lap. Isn't it the eternal dilemma — so many selfish sluts to choose from, but so very few loyal enough to be trusted slaves? She chuckled with sweet bitterness.

"Why are you such a shallow, mindless cheat, Ishtar?"

Her voice surprised the slumbering creature. The woman lifted her head from the crook of her arm, leaving a thread of drool dangling.

"You know I never intend to, tendresse," she said with her hoarse, fucked-out voice. "You know I can't help it. I want to be yours, all yours, but I am weak, Angique. Please forgive me."

She climbed to her knees and crawled over to Angique's naked legs, kissing them while hugging them tightly. Angique smiled. Weak, she thought, such a common excuse among sluts. She rested a pale hand on the dark hair.

"You are forgiven, Ishtar, lil cunt," she said. "But one day soon I'll have to let you go. Now finger your sloppy cunt. I know you need it."

The woman looked up, tears in her eyes. Honest tears, Angique thought. Oh damn, will I ever understand the nympho mind?

The fingers of Ishtar's right hand slid down her belly and to her shaven mound where she started to rub her clit. It was huge — its head showing between her opening cunt lips. The cruel nails of her other hand bit into a nipple, stretching it painfully.

"Good girl — good bad girl," Angique whispered, returning to her book — and to her secret sadness.

"I am so sorry."

The voice behind her was small and soft, but Angique knew at once who she was. Without turning away from the bar to see the girl, she said:

"Please don't be, Alicia. Where could I store another one of your many sorries? My cupboard runneth over."

There was silence. Angique turned around. Alicia's eyes looked down and her hands were strangling the hem of her white knitted top, stretching it over her chest.

"Nice outfit," Angique said. "New?" Alicia looked up.

"I am truly ashamed, Angique. I was a coward. I have to tell you — it was never your fault, it was all mine."

Angique chuckled. "Now what's new, honey? Isn't it always about you?" Alicia blushed.

"I guess so," she mumbled.

"You want a drink, Alicia?" Angique said, offering the girl the stool next to her. Her outward calm was a thin veneer covering her boiling insides. The moment she'd heard the voice, her treacherous heart had surged. God, how she hated that — but most of all she hated not being able to stop it.

Angique raised her white wine to toast with Alicia.

"Welcome back to the Club anyway, honey," she said. "What made you return? I thought you decided to avoid this little Sodom? Or is it Gomorrah nowadays?" Alicia shrugged. Angique grinned.

"Let me guess: you don't know," she said and chuckled. Alicia smiled weakly.

"I guess I do know, though," Angique went on. "And I'm sure you do too. It's boredom, isn't it? Are you between lovers — I mean between real, outside-world lovers of course; the kind you take seriously? Or have you at last found out that they can't feed your true hunger?" Angique's eyes bored into the girl's until she looked away.

"I have this ... thing with a woman," Alicia said, after a while. "An Italian writer. We meet and make love when she has the time. She takes me on journeys — New York, Los Angeles. She is sweet when she wants to."

Angique quenched an immature rush of jealousy. Nevertheless she couldn't hold back her next question.

"Do you love her?" Alicia's eyes got a puzzled expression.

"I don't kn..." she said, changing her line the moment she realized what she was going to say. "I don't think it is love. Not on her side at least, I guess." Her voice petered out.

"On your side?" Angique still couldn't help asking.

"Not sure," the girl said, sipping her wine. "Sometimes she can be very loving; and sometimes she ignores me. She cancels dates at the last moment. And sometimes I think she is ashamed of me. She is very clever, you know — and rich too. I guess I am nothing in her eyes."

Angique studied her face as she talked. She also studied her own reactions to what the girl said — the simmering anger; the hidden need to slap the girl and scream at her that she was a stupid bitch. And then the urge to push her onto the bar top and fuck her senseless with a fat, long strap-on dildo. She trembled; a drop of sweat slid down her spine.

"Okay," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. "So she canceled a date tonight and you thought: lemme get some excitement at the old, phony Club." The "no" of Alicia's headshake was hardly noticeable.

"She is off to Europe to spend Christmas with her parents and family," she answered. "She'll be gone for three weeks."

Angique gasped at the sharp dash of disappointment. It suddenly made her feel cheap and second hand. Of course, she thought, why else would she be here? Now who was the stupid romantic here all along? She tried to hold on to her smile. "I see," she said. "And you weren't welcome."

Alicia started crying. Her face didn't change, but tears ran down her cheeks. They got to Angique, although she knew they weren't for her. Inwardly cursing at her weakness she reached for the girl's hand, squeezing it. Then she brought it up to her mouth and kissed the warm skin.

"Now you make me feel sorry, Alicia," Angique whispered. "I love you too much to see you cry like this."

That broke down the last of the remaining dams. The girl crumbled into her embrace, sobbing her heart out.

"Come," Angique said, pulling Alicia off her soaked chest. "Let's go upstairs and have some privacy."

The dying embers in the fireplace sparked when Angique threw new wood on them — flames shot up, spreading an intense heat. Angique turned around, seeing the girl linger at the entrance. She smiled and waved her in, but Alicia hesitated.

"You said I could only be in here naked," she said, blushing as her arms rose to embrace her own chest.

Angique paused a second before smiling.

"Yes, I remember," she said. "But that rule only applies to my girls."

"I see," Alicia answered. Her arms fell down her sides, making her shoulders sag.

Angique's was enjoying the girl's obvious disappointment to not be counted as one of her girls. Good for her — wasn't it about time that the selfish bitch found out she couldn't have every fucking cake lying around and eat it too? There were prizes to be paid.

"Undress, girl," she said with a soft, even voice. She turned away from Alicia again, picking up long leather gloves and sliding her fingers into them. The rustling of the girl's clothes behind her back caused hot images to pop up in her mind — sometimes mere sound was sexier than vision, she thought. She adjusted the short and tight bolero-style jacket over her free-swinging tits. It was of the same leather as the gloves and the under bust corset that cinched her waist.

All the while her head spun with questions of what was happening. Why is the girl here? Why am I risking my crushed heart again? The spoilt slut is just bored, that is all there is to it. She didn't even hide it, did she? Her precious lover left her and now she needs her itch scratched. Why invite misery? Can't I just have my fun with any of the girls that throw themselves at my feet lately? Why this one?

She turned around. Alicia was on her knees — they were spread slightly to show her shaven cunt. She rested her hands on her ankles, pushing her bare tits out. Her eyes were cast down.

"Sorry, Angique," she mumbled. "I have no oil with me."

Angique walked over to the girl. Her boot heels sounded metallic the moment they left the rug and stepped onto the marble floor. One of her gloved hands was hidden behind her back; the other reached out to the girl's face. It felt hot to the touch; the heat penetrating the leather.

"Look up, girl," Angique requested, iron slipping into the velvet of her voice. Alicia's eyelashes fluttered nervously when she looked up. Angique caught her eyes at once.

"You are a slut, Alicia," she said without a trace of venom; just stating a fact. The girl blushed deeply. She swallowed hard but did not protest.

"You are a slut, pandering your easy cunt to anyone who wants it, and you know it," Angique went on after a pause. "I don't say this to offend you. It is what you are, even if you try to run from it. I know that you reason it away by assuming you are only a slut in here, so it doesn't count, really. But you know better. You are a true slut. Admit it and please don't look away when you do."