The Devlin Deception: Book One of The Devlin Quatrology (40 page)

“So what did you do?”

“I took my watch off ... and told him to get lost.”

All three of them laughed.

“Nice move, kid.”

“Thank you, Auntie Master.”

“That would be 'Auntie Mistress' to you, kid,” Sharon
replied, still chuckling.

Carie continued, “I also thought the quick-release rings on the
sides of her bottom were pretty cool, too. Just one flick and
gonzo.”

“Even in black and white, I could tell she's not a natural
blonde,” Jill added. “But her boobs looked real.”

“I don't know, Jillybean; they were way too perfect.”

“Perky, not floppy, like Sharon's are. Unga and Bunga.”

“Hey, wait a minute, Grasshopper,” Sharon hissed, but
then chuckled. “No, I know. Mine were a lot perkier in the
seventies.”

“Had to be, for you to have been such a star.”

“Well, not a star, but I made a good living with 'em.”

“Not just with those. I've seen some of your films.”

“Oh, god, I hate those now. Totally plot-free, and nobody in
them had even the faintest idea who Stanislavski was. And I was a
lot thinner back then, too.”

“That you were, Sharon, that you were, by what? 80, 90
pounds?”

“Now, now, Grasshopper; show some respect for your elders.”

“Okay, okay; sorry … Elder Auntie Mistress,” Jill
said and bowed, smiling. “But I loved your screen name.
Fannie Woodcock. Totally loved it.”

“Hey, kid, I always liked those birds.”

Carie cut in with, “He's got a very white butt.”

“But great tan lines, Carie Berry.”

“I don't like tan lines at all; I like an all-over tan. I
can't wait to get back to Europe, where they're not as prudish as
these damn Yanks.”

“Don't sweat it, Carie; our contract's up next June. But I do
like it on the beach down here.”

“Except for the sniffers.”

“Oh, even them. They remind me how stupid men can be; they're
so easy to lead on and manipulate.”

“Got to admit, Jill, you're really good at that. Most of 'em
never know what hit 'em,” Carie said, giggling.

“Y'got that right, Carie Berry. High five.” They did
that, then Jill added, “And you remember that one guy, the
chubby one with all the tattoos?”

“The Schmoozerator?”

“Yeah. Bald, 40s, hairdresser; you thought he was gay.”

“Right.”

“Kept bringing the ugliest women here and doing 'em right there
in the water. Moved away a few months ago. John, Jim …
Jeff?”

“I think it was Jeff, JB, but I'm not sure. We could probably
go back and find the videos, if Sharon hasn't sent 'em in already.”

“They're gone, kids. Weekly pouches.”

“That's good. I don't think JB could handle watching that
again.”

“Got that right, CB. Ewww.”

Jill and Carie laughed, then Sharon cut in.

“Ah. Kids, did you notice how quickly she rolled him over and
got on top?”

“Good for her,” Jill said. “It was what, maybe a
minute in?”

“Quick enough that we hardly saw how hard he was working,”
Carie added.

“If he was at all.”

“Oh, meow, Jillybean. Meow. Pull those claws back in.”

“Okay; sorry, EAM.”

“EAM?”

“Elder Auntie Mistress.”

“Oh, okay.

“And did you notice, no protection?”

Carie said, “I'd bet they talked all that stuff out on the way
over from the beach. They do seem to be pretty bright, both of 'em.”

Jill added, “I'll bet she took the lead on that.”

“I don't know. They both seemed to be leading each other.”

“Oh, no, Carie Berry. She was definitely doing the leading.
She was in charge all the way.”

“Think about it, Jillybean. The sunscreen, the massage. He
knew exactly what he was doing and where he wanted things to go.”

“No, no, no. She was seducing him all the way. Her idea to
write the sex scene; he'd never even thought about that.”

“Oh, that reminds me, Sharon. Can you print this out?”
She held up a thumb drive.

“Sure. Just take a minute.”

“And could you send the signal to that big TV in the corner
before we go to the next round? It's kinda hard to squinch around
this little screen on your PC.”

“Can do. Another minute.”

-78-

Thursday, August 18, 2011

10:30 p.m.

Cyberspace

The Suppressor checked his email account and found two more emails,
one sent on Tuesday, the other sent that morning. He poured himself
a glass of his very expensive wine and opened the first one.

“Sir or madam, We have received your email and now have some
additional concerns.

“Firstly, we are highly concerned that the Rep.pdf file is in
the hands of our opponents. It could be terribly damaging to our
interests should they use it in their usual partisan and underhanded
manner.

“Secondly, we are concerned that your mercenary-like actions
show us that you have no conscience to which we may appeal, that you,
in point of fact, are either socio- or psychopathic, and that that
reduces to nearly zero our ability to trust that you will keep your
end of any bargain we may strike.

“Thirdly and finally, despite having analyzed the multiple
possibilities we find in those two concerns, we must bow to your
terms and consider the fact that both parties have copies of the
other's damaging file, thus assuring MAD (mutual assured destruction)
if both are released.

“With that in mind, we are hereby changing our offer to a flat
40K to keep the Rep.pdf file out, and another 40K to keep the Dem.pdf
file IN. Take it or leave it, sir or madam.”

He laughed and opened the other email, and was not at all surprised
by what it said.

“Look here, punk, we're not sure just what game you think
you're playing, but you're in the big leagues now and way out of your
depth.

“Tell us who the author of Dem.pdf is and we won't come after
you … for now.

”As for your extortionate demands, stick 'em up your ass.”

The Suppressor laughed harder. “Perfect. So predictable.”

Then he put the PC to sleep, poured another glass of wine and leaned
back in his recliner. Within ten minutes, the wine helped put him to
sleep.

An hour and a half later, he woke with a start, then slowly and
painfully unwound himself from the cramped position in which he had
fallen asleep, stretched his arms, legs and especially his badly
kinked lower back, then awoke his PC and prepared his replies.

To the first, he wrote, “This will acknowledge your offer of 40
plus 40. However, be advised that the other side has offered 50 and
50. I will await your response.”

To the second, “Now, now, now, ad hominem attacks tend not to
work with us. I would suggest that you avoid them in the future and
get someone who is not still in high school to write your future
responses.

“Please review the attached seven-page file, Dem2.pdf (which
has not been provided to your opponents … as yet) and consider
your options. As of this moment, the other side has offered 60K to
keep Rep.pdf out and another 60K to keep Dem.pdf in. Should I accept
their offer, I will advise the author to give them Dem2.pdf at no
additional cost.

“I will await and expect a more courteous response from you.”

He sent both, backed up his work, then powered down the PC, drained
and rinsed out his wine glass, took a couple of OTC painkillers and a
sleeping tablet and went to bed.

-79R-

Sunday, August 14, 2011

8:15 p.m.

A tenth-floor condo

Bonita Beach, Florida

“Sonofabitch. That explains it. When they went at it the
second time, they were playing out the scene she wrote, feathers and
the Bolero and all. Geez.”

“Well, you were watching it, Sharon; we only had audio and your
comments. Let's see it.”

“But I didn't have what she wrote. Okay, Jill. Here goes.”

“They're just lying there.”

“Oops; this is just a while after the first round. Let me --”

“No, no, no, wait; let it play. What's she doing now?”

“Oh, right; I forgot about that. She's doing a Suzanne.”

“A what?”

“A Suzanne. See how she's just using her tongue, not her whole
mouth, and just in that one spot, back a ways from the end, on the
underside?”

“Yeah.”

“That's really the only sensitive spot on the whole thing.”

“Yeah, we know that. But why's that called a Suzanne?”

“Well, back in the seventies, we had fluffers on the set, and
they complained a lot about neck pain after a long night's work.
Then one of my co-stars came up with the tongue-only idea, and she
taught it to the whole staff, and bingo, no more neck pain. Her name
was Suzanne, and she wanted credit for the idea.”

“And did she get credit?”

“Mostly in the Valley; don't know about elsewhere.”

“Didn't I hear somewhere about some fluffers union suing the
maker of those little pills for putting them out of work?”

“Oh, Grasshopper, that was a hoax some friends of mine put
together way back when. One crazy, but legit-sounding, press release
that no one realized was a joke, and it got some good distribution.
We laughed our guts out over that. You can still probably find it on
the internet.”

“Cool, EAM.”

“Ready to fast-forward? Good; here goes.”

“Go ahead – wait. Wasn't there a line in her scene that
went 'Oh, my god, it's huge'?”

“Yup, Jillybean, right here, before 'throbbing' and 'swollen.'”

“Well, from what I just saw, that line won't fly. It's just
average.”

“But she didn't know that when she was writing the scene, did
she, JB?”

“Oh, right. Never mind.”

“Okay, kids; coming up on it now.”

“Hey. Where'd he get the feathers?”

“I think I saw a big vase in the corner with a bunch of 'em in
it when I was in there planting the bug, JB.”

“Okay; she's got a remote and there goes the Bolero. Now I
know she was planning this.”

“Maybe, JB, maybe.”

“Okay, kids, enough blah-blah. Here we go.”

“Wait, wait. Didn't the massage part start with her suit on?
Yup, right here on the first page.”

“Hey, Grasshopper, don't expect them to follow the fictional
scene she wrote exactly; this is reality, and they can improvise.”

“Okay, okay, EAS. Boy, his butt really is white.”

“But look how gentle and tender he is with her back, and he's
always leaving one hand in contact when he takes the other away for a
new stroke up her spine, JB.”

“He does know what he's doing, kids. That's from the
seventies, too. Erotic massage.”

“Wow. That must feel great.”

“Listen to her moan. She's not faking that, CB.”

“I thought she was faking it that first time, JB.”

“Could be, but that was only … what? … five or
six minutes from start to finish?”

“Four minutes, 28 seconds on the counter, kids.”

“Not much foreplay there, was there?”

“Nope, but she was leading him on pretty fast.”

“Leading him in, you mean, CB,” Jill said, laughing.

“Reminds me, kids. Do you know what redneck foreplay is?”

“Nope,” they said in unison.

In her best raspy, smoky, accented voice, Sharon said, “'Git in
the truck, bitch.'” They all laughed.

“And now her neck … so gentle, but firm. Strong.”

“Look how he's doing her arm … and her hand. Wow, each
finger separately? Geez.”

“You'd never know from looking at him on the beach, wouldya?”

“And now the other one. Ohhhh.”

“Careful, JB; don't get carried away. Still a long way to go
on this one.”

“Okay. I'm just imagining being where she is.”

“Well, you're not there.”

“Oh, geez, look at that. He's not gonna do what I think he's
gonna do, is he?”

“No, he's just moving back to massage her thighs.”

“Good. I'd hate it if he did do dat.”

“Lotta that back in the day, kids. And it did hurt. Never
again.”

“Me, neither, f'sure.”

“Nor me. Yuck.”

“Oh, she likes that, doesn't she?”

“Oh, yeah, CB. And look at that, not a gram of cellulite or
cottage cheese anywhere on her.”

“And now her calves, one hand on each.”

“Ankles.”

“Feet. Oh, look, he's doing each toe. Ohhhh; nice.”

“Ease up, JB.”

“Okay, okay, CB.”

“Now watch this close, kids.”

“Oh, geez, how can she bend like that?”

“She was a gymnast, remember, JB?”

“Oh, ri- – wait, she's fifty, isn't she?”

“Yup. But she's obviously kept herself in great shape.”

“And flexibility. I could never twist my back like that.”

“Now that's a kiss! And upside down? Wow!!!”

“Got that right, CB.”

“Wait, wait, Sharon. Back it up. How did she get rolled over
like that? I must have blinked. Oh, I see. Wow; really limber.
Thanks.”

“And he's heading for – wait, what'd she say?”

“She said, 'Not yet, Jake. Feathers first, okay?'”

“Sorry; the Bolero was getting a little louder there.”

“Yeah, but they're still on track. Watch and wait, kids.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Yeah, but – oh, there he goes.”

“What kind of a feather is that? Peacock?”

“Looks like it, JB.”

“Oh, he's got one in the other hand, too.”

“That looks like an ostrich feather to me.”

“Starting on her shoulders; cool. She likes that; look at her
face.”

“And the outside of her arms, slowly, teasingly, gently.”

“'Light as a whisper,' I think she said yesterday.”

“I think you're right, JB.”

“And now on the inside, coming back up. Oh, geez, I'd love for
a guy to do that to me.”

“Hmf. Like one of those sniffers? Maybe Tim or Tom or whatever
his name was?”

“Ewwww. No way. He'd just go right for my boobs. Yuck.”

“Well, Jake isn't going there. He's working her sides –
oh, she's ticklish. Listen to that giggle. Wow.”