Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (36 page)

Rory nodded and descended. With a touch of his lips to Lenore’s ear, he whispered. “Lenore… You asked me something earlier tonight... Do you remember what you asked me? You asked if I believed in fate.”

Eyes clenched, body trembling uncontrollably, Lenore nodded.

“Well, Lenore, you made me a believer. You put a wonderful lash around on my heart. I’ve fallen completely in love with you, Lenore.”

“But Rory! I cannot be trusted! I did this to Lena before! Once she looked into my eyes, she could not free herself from me! I chained her to me! I have imprisoned her soul! Now I am doing it to you!”

Lenore’s panic suddenly made sense for the Wild Child. Lenore’s seductiveness. Her hypnotic, amber eyes. The bathtub incident.

“HEY! Wait a minute! Is that what you’re worried about? Are you worried about what might happen to Rory if he keeps looking into your eyes? Do you think if he keeps looking into your eyes you’ll trap him and you’ll do something evil to him?”

Lenore nodded, gasping and crying.

“Are you afraid that you have some kind of mystical power to cloud our minds or something? Is that what’s going on here? Do you think you put some kind of hex on ME and now I’m trapped with you forever?”

Lenore nodded frantically. “Yes, Lena! I cannot be trusted! I am evil! I seduce people and then they cannot leave me! The only way they can leave me is to kill themselves! Someday… Someday you will know how evil I truly am and… And you will kill yourself to leave me! Or you will want to kill me!”

“Now hold on a sec, Lenore! Let’s step back and take a breather. For starters, baby girl, nobody’s killing anybody tonight, and I'm certainly not going to go and kill myself. I actually kind of like my sexy ass. I mean… I’m not all self-absorbed and in love with myself like a freaking supermodel…”

No reaction. Lena pressed on.

“…And as for you being all kinds of evil… I already know what’s going on inside your heart. Been there, done that. You're a grade-A sex-a-holic, a total nymphomaniac. So tell me something I don’t already know…”

Still no reaction. Lenore lay sobbing under her Wild Child blanket. Lena pressed on again.

“…And besides… You can’t mind-control me with those beautiful amber eyes, Lenore. I’ll whip your skinny supermodel ass with my racket if you try.”

The slightest hint of a giggle passed Lenore’s clenched lips.

“So trust
me
, Lenore. I don’t buy out apartment buildings and break lots of furniture with you because I’m under some kind of ‘all-powerful supermodel spell.’ I break furniture with you because I seriously love you.”

The slightest hint of a smile loosened Lenore’s lips.

“So c’mon, Freaky. How about looking me in the eyes?”

“Lena… I… I…”

“C’mon, Lenore. I haven’t stayed with you this long because you seduced me. Remember? You could have done it at Paulson. But you didn't. I love you for that, Lenore. You held yourself back four years before you finally let me have it with both tits.”

Lenore laughed.

“Look, babe, you and I both know how this is going to play out, so why don’t we just cut to the chase? If you don’t look at me I'm going to start groping you again. Then you’ll get all hot and wet and I’ll jump between your legs and then you’ll get all, ‘Oh Lena, Lena, Lena’ and then I’ll get all, ‘Lenore, Lenore, Lenore’ and before you know what’s happening we’ll be breaking furniture and giving each other rug burns. Now you wouldn't want that to happen, would you? All it does is get messy in a hurry and it costs a ton to clean up.”

Lenore smiled. She still didn’t open her eyes, but at least she smiled.

“Is… Is he looking at me?”

“No, dear, ‘The One’ is not looking at you. He’s just loving you and keeping his eyes closed, you big sissy.”

“But Lena… How do I know? What if you were right about what you said in the bedroom earlier? What if I have done something horrible to Rory? What if I seduced him and he cannot leave me?”

“For starters, dearie, I never said anything like that. I think my exact words were, ‘Lesbo’s got a boyfriend’.”

Another giggle.

“And besides, Lenore, ‘The One’ has his hand on your pussy and his mouth on your ear. You might want to have the whole sex addict therapy session with him, not me.”

“I CANNOT!”

“Okay… Then just open your eyes and look at me and we’ll have a nice chat in front of ‘The One,’ okay?”

“His eyes are closed?”

“Yes, dear. Very much closed. Though I think his fingers are walking through the pink pages at the moment.”

Lenore opened her eyes just enough to peek down to her pussy. In her fear and distraction, Lenore failed to notice fullness in her flange. Rory had a silly grin on his face as his fingers massaged her sticky, cum-soaked, re-moistening cunny.

Lenore entered the safe harbor of Lena’s loving eyes. “Lena… I am… I am so afraid…”

Lena reclined on her arm, running her free hand languorously up and down Lenore’s relaxing torso. “Of what, my beautiful Freaky Baby?”

“I seduced you. I seduced Rory. I trapped both of you. I am
evil,
Lena! Once you both know how evil I am…”

Lena shook her head in disbelief. “Really? You think you’re, like, ‘the all-powerful, demonic seductress, Lenore De La Fuente'? C’mon, Lenore. I mean you’re hot and sexy and sultry and horny and all kinds of exotic and everything… But really, woman. Get over yourself. It’s time to face facts, Freaky. You’re just not that fucking cute.”

Lena elicited another moment of laughter from the conflicted woman. She always knew how to deflate Lenore’s fears.

With his eyes still closed and his lips pressed to her ear, Rory picked up Lena’s logic. “Lenore… You didn’t seduce me.”

Lenore attempted to turn her head away. With his powerful grip, Rory pushed her face back. She pulled a hand free and touched his cheek.

“But how do you know, Rory? How do you know that I did not lure you into a trap. I am a horrible person! I am evil! I always use my body to seduce people! How do you know that I did not seduce
you
and trap
you
tonight? I touched you at the party and then you followed me home! I seduced you, Rory, and now you will be trapped!”

…And then Rory took things a step too far.

“Because, Lenore… I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but… You're just not that hot, babe.”

Lena snorted.
“Oh NO he didn’t!”

Indignant, Lenore glared at Rory’s closed eyes. “Ex-CUSE ME? What did you just say, Rory St. Cloud?”

“Well… I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Lenore… but... you’re actually something of a… Well… a ‘hag,’ if I may be so bold.”

Lena turned her head and smothered her face in the sofa, laughing hysterically, her body shaking violently. She peed a little.

Hell hath no fury like a supermodel dissed. “A…? A…? Did you just call ME… Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente… A… A 'HAG’? A God damned fucking HAG?” Lenore demonstratively swept her hand across her body, ignoring the fact that Rory still had his eyes closed. “You call THIS… Lenore Consuela Maria De La Fuente... A FUCKING HAG?”

“Well… If you must know the truth, Lenore… More like a wart-faced, humped-over, Quasimodo hag.”

Lena guffawed into the seat back, tears streaming down her face. She pounded the couch back with her fist, crossing her legs to forestall a flood.

“RORY ST. CLOUD! YOU LOOK AT ME!”

Rory opened his eyes and broke a smile.

“HAG? DID YOU CALL
ME
A HAG?”

Lena couldn’t resist. “Actually, sweetie, I think the phrase he used was a, ‘Wart-faced, humped-over, Quasimodo hag,’ to be precise.”

“Stay out of this, Malena! I will deal with you later!”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Lena saluted and reclined into the couch.

“Rory St. Cloud! You take that back!”

“Take what back…? ‘Hag’.”

Lenore smacked his thigh. “Stop calling me that, Rory St. Cloud!”

“What? ‘Hag’? Sorry, dear. Sometimes the truth hurts. Have you ever taken a good look at yourself in the mirror, Lenore? Yeesh. 'Hag’.”

“RORY!”

“Yes…? Hag?”

Lenore slugged him on the arm.

“WOW! Not bad for a pathetic, doddering, hag.”

Lenore slugged him on the chest. Harder.

“OUCH! Hmmm… I seem to remember that fashion designer Raquel Shalamar losing her mind a few years ago and picking a total hag for her…”

“ROOOORRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYY…!”

In a fury, Lenore grabbed Lena by the legs and threw her over the back of the couch. She shoved Rory to the floor and jumped on the beefcake. Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist she crushed Rory with muscular thighs, his re-stiffening pole pressing firmly into her butt.

“Rory St. Cloud, you take that back!”

“Hmmm… My standards must be dropping. I guess I got myself seduced by a hideous, wart-faced hag.”

POUND!

“Ouch! Not bad… For a…”

POUND! PUNCH! SLAP!

“Wow! Lena, she can get mighty worked up for a…”

GRAB! ROLL! PUNCH! CLAW! CRAAAASH!

An indistinguishable pile of firewood, a perfectly good, half-full bottle of Sandeman ’66, and a smattering of still-edible dark chocolate squares sat in the approximate former location of what might have been a $1250 imported coffee table.

YANK! LIFT! SLAM!

One of the two end tables required Krazy Glue, a $600 antique bronze lamp would require a healthy soldering job.

Lena climbed up and perched on the back of the couch as Rory and Lenore rolled, fought, kissed, groped, and slammed their way from here to there across the apartment. She considered breaking out the video camera, but decided against risking someone finding the tape and turning it over to Hard Copy.

Lenore jumped on Rory’s back and wrapped her legs around his waist. She pounded his shoulders with her fists and screamed a string of indistinguishable Spanish obscenities into his ear. Rory staggered, the two lovers crashing into the dining room table. Lenore rolled across the table and fell off the other side, landing at full speed onto a $500 chair that self-sacrificially gave its life to protect Lenore’s Lloyds of London-insured ass.

Rory lost sight of the hag for a moment and experienced a kidney-spear tackle, tossing him like a rag doll into a $2000 imported Chinese vase and its $1500 hand-carved stand.

Rory jumped to his feet, grabbed Lenore, and threw her into the love seat. Lenore struck the couch with such force, it flipped backward and she ejected on the other side into a stunning, Japanese rice paper room divider valued at $750.

“Well, Johnny, that’s one way to make origami…” Lena added as mock color commentary.

Scrambling to her feet, Lenore shrieked and rushed at Rory in the direction of the kitchen. The matador backpedaled furiously, attempting a side step of the raging Spanish heifer. Not familiar with Lenore’s Olympic-ready, fencing-honed reflexes, Rory positioned himself perfectly for her to carom at a dead run, jumping onto and leaping from the base of the over-turned love seat. Flying through the air, Lenore shoulder-speared Rory backward into the kitchen pantry door. His 6’1” frame shattered the panel, broke several shelves, and released flour and sugar all over the floor.

Lenore jumped back, legs braced for a retaliatory onslaught. Rory dusted himself off and lunged, throwing his shoulder into Lenore’s stomach, knocking her off her feet and tossing her over his shoulder in a single motion. Rory ran with Lenore into the bedroom, slammed her face down across the bed, and spanked her repeatedly, harder with each strike, eliciting another string of indecipherable obscenities from Spain’s contribution to the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

After leaving numerous bright, red palm prints on Lenore’s tanned ass, Rory flipped her over. He pounced on her, grabbing her ankles and hooking her by the knees in his elbows, whereupon he launched his missile directly into her mound. In character, the banshee screamed and tore into the flesh of his back with her fingernails, settling with writhing under Rory's cunt-conquering torpedo and luxuriating in the fuck.

They coupled for several mutually thrilling, fiery minutes, filled with a variety of shouts including variations of, “Fuck me! Fuck me you bastard!” and, “Oh yeah? You fucking hag?” until Lenore had her fill, unkindly bit Rory’s shoulder, and rolled away. Lenore jumped from the bed and raced for the living room, scrambling past Lena as the referee relaxed on one of the few unscathed pieces of furniture. Lena casually sipped Port from one of the unbroken glasses that survived the coffee table’s demise.

“Rory chose wisely. Sandeman goes nicely with full-contact, mixed-martial-fucking.”

Rory caught up with Lenore just as she ran into her first floor office. She stood firm near the bookcase, throwing legal journals at him, pretending to slow his advances.

“Do not do it, Rory St. Cloud! Do not
dare
fuck me on my desk, you sick rapist!”