Cindy Inc.: French Kissing In The USA

The continuing adventures of Cindy Crawford –

supermodel, mother and celebrity bordello owner. The

conduct of the celebs herein is not intended to

represent their actual behaviour; this isn’t for

under-18s; and any praise, complaints or whatever to

go on the message boards or to

cindylover1969@yahoo.co.uk. (And note to the people

who put the stories up: it’s Laetitia. Not Laetita,

L-A-E-T-I-T-I-A.)

* * * * * * * * *

With the successful launch of the London branch and

the end of the 3AM Girls behind her, Cindy Crawford

thought that it had all been a very good trip all

told. Okay, she had lost Natalie Portman, but she had

gained some more people. All the better for one

forthcoming client.

And best of all, Laetitia Casta had arrived in Malibu

the same day Cindy got back, in order to take up her

week’s residency at Cindy Inc.; she had time before

shooting started on her next movie. Cindy murmured to

herself happily as she lay in her palatial bed on

site, and thought about the previous night. He had

paid a lot to have the two of them together, and she

and Laetitia had done their best to give satisfaction.

And there he was, lying there between the two of them.

Cindy studied him, absolutely worn out, and craned

over to see the faces of the man and Laetitia. The

French model/actress looked heavenly asleep, slow

steady breathing as she slumbered, heavy chest rising

and falling rhythmically…

It suddenly occurred to Cindy that the man wasn’t

breathing. He was lying there, only a few years

younger than Laetitia; he looked perfectly healthy and

fast asleep except for the fact that he wasn’t moving.

Cindy clambered over to the man, hoping she wouldn’t

wake the French woman before she had to, and felt for

his pulse; nothing. She put her fingers under his nose

in case there was anything like breathing… nothing.

“Shit…” she moaned in fear. The son of one of their

wealthiest clients had died in her bed. It was time to

wake up Laetitia.

* * * * * * * * * *

Laetitia had been the first one to be awakened,

followed by the other women. Cindy Inc. was normally a

relatively clean place – you got your rough customers

(from the S&M freaks to the ones who liked it really

nasty – at least three of the women had found

themselves performing bodily functions on customers),

but nothing like this had happened before.

As Cindy and the other women on duty that night

gathered and waited for the police to arrive, the

quaking Miss Casta was the centre of attention, not

all of it horrified.

“I gotta hand it to you, LC,” Tera Patrick chuckled,

“even I’m not good enough to fuck a man to death.”

“Oh for the love of God, give it a rest!” Gwen Stefani

shouted. “This shit could close us down…”

“Yeah, right. Like River Phoenix’s death shut down the

Viper Room,” Mya pointed out.

“It was probably just one of those things,” Cindy

suggested. “Come on Laetitia, it wasn’t your fault…

try and tell us what happened, straighten it out in

your mind before the cops get here.”

“A drink might help,” Laetitia suggested, still

jittery but glad they were in close proximity to a

liquor cabinet. Cindy took it on herself to pour the

Frenchwoman some brandy and, on seeing Gwen’s

expectant look, some Scotch for the No Doubt singer as

well. Handing them their drinks and asking if anyone

else wanted some (no), she watched Laetitia down the

booze.

“All right,” she said. “I was waiting to get the

all-clear signal from you…”

It was an unwritten but unviolable rule at Cindy Inc.

that no one EVER interrupted the ladies at work except

in the most extreme circumstances. It was true that

Peter Hobbs Sr. had arranged for Peter Hobbs Jr. to be

with both Cindy and Laetitia that evening, but they

had agreed that Peter would be with the older woman

first, then go with LC (who Master Hobbs admitted to

preferring – Cindy had understood; Laetitia was closer

to his own age after all), then go with the two of

them. “He’s never done it before,” the businessman had

explained. “I figured that he may as well get it from

a reputable source.”

Laetitia was glad that there was some time between her

last client and this one – she had needed time to get

the woman’s pubes out of her mouth (not to mention the

taste – unfortunately said woman had a penchant for

water sports), and she was now all freshened up and

ready. Behind the velvet door she heard Hobbs the

Younger’s howls and cries and protestations of love

and devotion, etc, etc., and chuckled to herself –

Cindy was on form tonight. “It must be a blowjob,” she

thought to herself in French. “It’s always the head

that does it.” The red light above the door lit up; it

was safe for her to go in. “Showtime,” she said to

herself, and entered.

Peter Hobbs was lying on the large but rumpled bed,

his medium-sized cock still stiff but starting to

soften. Besides him, Cindy Crawford stroked his chest,

a few white drops still on her lips. “Now that wasn’t

so bad, was it?” she asked him tenderly, his thrilled

expression saying it all. “But here’s someone who’ll

make you even happier… over there?” The lad turned

to see the model/actress standing by the bed, smiling

down at him in the nude. Both Laetitia and Cindy

spotted his cock rising up almost at once; that was

the nice thing about sex with boys, they reloaded

quickly. The trouble was that they usually finished

quickly as well…

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Cindy said, climbing off

the bed. “I’ll be back whenever you’re ready.” She

gently kissed Laetitia on the lips, whispered “See you

later,” and left the two alone.

“Are you and her…?” Peter asked as Laetitia joined

him.

“Sometimes,” Laetitia answered, softly fondling him as

he started to touch her. She could sense he was still

slightly nervous at being with a woman, even though he

had just been alone with Cindy C. “Don’t worry, I

still like men.”

Peter liked the implication that he was a man. He

liked the warm, soft lady that was next to him even

more; she was definitely not skinny. There was a lot

of woman to Laetitia, and he enjoyed touching her –

the more he explored, the more at ease he felt. As he

roamed her comfortable tits and ran his fingers

through her wonderfully hirsute cunt, Peter was

thrilled to find that she wasn’t hurrying him along;

this was everything he had hoped it would be. Calm,

gentle, and fun. He kissed her, feeling her jagged

tooth with his tongue; she still hadn’t had them

capped. He didn’t mind, however – Laetitia had too

much else going for her.

Laetitia nipped his chest lightly as she caressed him,

finding his stiffy and gently stroking it. “Are you

ready for another one?” she asked.

“Only if you want to,” he answered, and the woman gave

him a small smile – he could have ordered her to do

it, he was the customer. In any case, she did want to;

she moved down his body, letting him feel her nipples

rubbing his chest, until she was facing his prick. “I

hope Cindy left some for me,” she told Peter, and

opened wide. Peter’s eyes also opened wide as

Laetitia’s wet mouth took in his cock; Cindy Inc.

always charged extra for Laetitia Casta’s blowjobs,

but his dad had assured him it would be worth the

extra $150. He was right… Laetitia combined both

youthful energy and expertise, and the little flicks

with her tongue she gave his balls were lovely

garnishes to the experience. He had seen that movie

where she played a prostitute, but the real thing was

even better. She was feeling his erection almost to

the back of her throat, and really sounding like she

was enjoying it.

Peter found, to his delight, that he DID have some

left for Laetitia.

He was soon holding her tight again, his hands

clutching her fragrant flesh and wondering what it

would be like to be inside her, even with a condom (it

had been his idea, not his father’s). With the tip of

one of Laetitia’s huge tits filling his mouth, he

couldn’t wait to find out; and the best thing was,

even if he couldn’t get into Miss Casta he had a

backup. Said backup – Cindy Crawford – was behind him,

rubbing her well-trimmed box against his rump and

kissing his back and neck while he greedily sucked

Laetitia’s jugs. Peter fondly cast his mind back to

Cindy’s beautiful breasts; who’d have thought these

two gorgeous ladies had three children between them?

Cindy pressed her form against his back, massaging him

with her entire body while he tasted the soft French

woman under him. She waited for him to ask if she and

Laetitia could make love while he watched – it had

happened before – and was surprised when he never did.

Kissing him all the way down, she was also grateful;

it was a change for a guy to not demand the old

lesbian act occasionally. Peter was fully mounted on

Laetitia, and Cindy was now facing his buttocks; she

had a crystal clear view of his erection poised just

above Laetitia’s snatch, and watched him push it

inside her. It was almost like watching a porn movie

in 3-D; she could actually hear the sliding sounds of

Peter’s meat slithering along Laetitia’s wet opening,

with only their groans for accompaniment.

Cindy carefully moved back up while the two pumped

away at each other, and spread Peter’s buns, deciding

to give him some oral stimulus. Not that he needed

any, she noticed as she moved her head down – he

looked like he could fill her up without any help…

but she did notice a quickening of his grinding as she

slipped her tongue up Peter’s asshole. Cindy rolled

her tongue around in there as the couple beneath her

sped up, Laetitia starting to curse in French the way

she did each time Cindy ate HER ass out. The weird

thing was, it still sounded romantic…

An hour later, the three of them lay there; they had

been having a little post-sex talk. Cindy had fallen

asleep first, with Peter having conked out shortly

afterwards. Laetitia was having difficulty keeping her

eyes open herself, and she thought she might as well

go with it… she shut her eyes and waited for sleep

to come, and that was when she felt the fingers.

Laetitia didn’t let on that she knew he was touching

her up, slowly stroking her while he thought she was

asleep. she (Laetitia) had felt him fondling her,

saying nothing but little murmurs of satisfaction as

he probed her.

Laetitia lay there, still with her eyes shut, not

daring to do anything. Not even when she felt herself

being rolled onto her front. Not even when she felt

her legs being pulled up into the air. And not even

when she felt her buttocks being spread apart, and

something smeared onto the hole between. She bit down

into the pillow, praying that it wouldn’t be a replay

of the time she had been with that boy who just jammed

it inside her and left her aching for a week.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

“And that was it,” Laetitia finished. “He fucked me up

the butt while I was pretending to be asleep, he went

back to sleep, and that was it.”

“Well, at least he died happy,” Mya said with a wry

look on her face, as the officers came in. Laetitia

sighed – she would have to tell it all over again.

Cindy also sighed – who knew how long it would be

before the cops would be through here…

It was several hours before the cops were all through,

but they were thankful that it was before Cindy Inc.

was due to open for business. The police did warn

Cindy that they might have to come back, but “That’s

to be expected,” Cindy smiled. (Besides, she herself

had personally entertained some of the boys in blue on

occasion.) “See you all later…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“What can I do for you, officers?” Cindy asked the

very next evening as she welcomed them into her

office.

“Actually, ma’am, it’s not so much what you can do for

me as one of your women,” said the older half of the

pair of policemen, the pair who had been first on the

scene that night.

“It’s Laetitia Casta. We think she might be able to

help us with the Hobbs business,” the younger officer

added.

“Okay… but she told you everything,” Cindy replied,

as she buzzed Laetitia.

“Not quite, ma’am,” said the younger officer, not

entirely accustomed to this moment. “The coroner

found…”

“Yes?”

“…that someone had given him a dose.”

“Oh God…” Cindy replied in shock. “Oh dear Lord…

he was murdered?”

“And so far as we know, you and Miss Casta were the

only other ones in the room around that time.”

“But why do you only want to talk to Laetitia? Why not

me?”

“Because we found something interesting in that room

among her stuff; some hypodermic needles,” the older

officer answered as Laetitia entered, saw Cindy and

the policemen, and instantly knew what was happening.

“No trace of the stuff that killed him, but…”

As if the broken-voiced calls from Gloria Hobbs

demanding to speak to the woman who killed her son

hadn’t been bad enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

Because Cindy had been known to do the odd… um…

favour for the Chief of Police, the word spread

throughout the department that if anything got out to

the press about the trouble Laetitia was in, the

person or persons responsible would suddenly be

demoted all the way down to unemployment. So no one

said anything openly – but privately one or two of

them had already tried and convicted Laetitia of the

crime. True, she hadn’t been officially charged, but

she was a foreigner, and worse than that a FRENCH

foreigner. And everyone knew what they were like…

While Laetitia waited in a separate cubicle for her

boss, Cindy made her own statement. It was identical

to Laetitia’s in nearly every respect – “I’d been

pretty busy that night, and Peter was my last job of

the evening… I was pretty tired after I’d finished,

so I just zonked out and left him and Laetitia to it.

But I did wake up for a bit later on…”

Or rather, someone had woken her up. Someone’s

fingers, moving in circles on her back. Cindy had been

asleep for about an hour by then, but still not deep

enough to avoid being woken up by the massage she was

getting.

She blearily opened her eyes, and considered turning

over to give Peter a surprise – nah, let him play with

her. Unlike Laetitia, she was lying on her front so he

couldn’t get at her tits; but he could still play with

her ass. Cindy let a lazy smile spread across her face

as she felt the first of several affectionate smacks

land on her behind, and her gaze wandered to the

bedside clock – it was always useful if she was witha

client who went with the hourly rate instead of the

flat fee.

“It was about 3:00 in the morning,” Cindy finished.

“You’re sure about that?” the older officer asked.

“Positive.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“So if my girl Cindy’s telling the truth…” the older

officer would later say.

“Your girl Cindy?” the younger officer would

interrupt.

“Well, anyway,” the older officer would hurriedly

continue, “if she’s telling the truth it would mean

that someone else apart from Cindy C, the frog and the

kid was in that room.”

“Why?”

“Because the stuff that was in the Hobbs kid takes

between one and two hours to work. Think about it –

the guy goes in there, gives the kid the jab, decides

not to let some quality flesh go to waste and has

himself a free fuck; buggers the Frog first, then does

Cindy.”

“Or vice versa.”

“Whatever. The point is, maybe the Frog didn’t do it.”

“Why do you keep calling her that?”

“I call them how I see them,” the older officer

replied. “Cindy may be a celebrity whore, but she’s

one of ours.”

The younger officer didn’t say anything.

“Or maybe Casta DID do it. She said she was buttfucked

but with the ass on her, she probably gets cocks up it

at every chance; she gives him the air and gives Cindy

a paddling…”

“Cindy said he jacked off on her ass,” the younger

officer interrupted. “How do you explain that? And why

would Laetitia want to kill him anyway?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Actually, it wasn’t the first time she’s been with

that family,” Briana Banks confided.

“Really?” asked Asia Carrera.

“Do tell,” Tera Patrick urged.

Even though more porn actresses were working at Cindy

Inc., and even though Cindy herself had gotten over

the tinges of snobbery she had once had over using

them, there was still some cliquery in the ranks, a

definite touch of “them against us” (though not quite

to the extent of J-Lo’s, where Sarah Michelle Gellar,

Heather Locklear and Ashley Judd had actually quit

when the boss had informed them that a) the likes of

Ashlyn Gere and Kylie Ireland were staying around and

b) that they were actually more often requested than

some “proper” celebs – Cindy had laughed for hours on

hearing that Jennifer Lopez had actually BEGGED her

more-gifted-thespically colleagues to come back).

“You didn’t hear this from me,” Briana assured them,

“but Laetitia was with the Hobbses in the French

branch when they were there on business. I was there

too that night, in a pairing with the dad – he likes

group sex. Anyway, he had Miss Jugs bouncing on his

cock like nobody’s business, and I was doing the kid;

and he goes and yells that I’m better than her.”

“And were you?” asked Tera.

“Of course I am!” Briana cackled. “The look on

Laetitia’s face… you could tell she was ready to

kill.”

“And she hated him that much? Come on…” Asia argued.

“Hey, she’s a model and she’s French. Humiliated by a

porn star… Crime passionel, you know?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Sorry we had to keep you waiting for so long,” the

officer said to Gwen Stefani.

“Don’t sweat it; it’s called saving the best for

last,” laughed Gwen, unaware that Mya was saying

exactly the same thing to the officer talking to her.

All the other women on the premises that night had

been interviewed, but had turned up precisely zilch.

“So what do you want to know?”

“Just tell us what you did last night,” the officer

said to Mya Harrison, who gave him a knowing look.

“Aren’t you a little young for that kind of thing?”

she asked, twirling the cigarette between her fingers.

“No games, please. We’ve all had a long night.”

Mya nodded and stubbed out the cigarette. “Okay,

here’s what it was like. Me and Gwen were a team that

night – ebony and ivory, together in perfect harmony.

Except I’d take Gwen Stefani over Paul McCartney any

day,” she laughed.

“You and me both,” the officer couldn’t help saying.

“Go on…”

Ellis Arnold stood there, his eyes fixed on Mya as she

embraced Gwen; Mya enjoyed the fact that she had

bigger breasts than Gwen, but she enjoyed rubbing her

own jugs against the white girl’s even more. Gwen’s

body was heavenly; tight and rippling, fun to watch

and even better to stroke. She French-kissed Gwen and

pinched her, wondering how Ellis was liking it.

He was LOVING it; the no-camera rule meant he couldn’t

get any pictures of Gwen’s pale hands on Mya’s

chocolate rump, so he stared closely at Miss Stefani

rubbing Mya’s juicy buttcheeks. He looked even closer

as Gwen spread them apart, exposing her dark holes for

him to see. As Mya writhed on top of her, Gwen slipped

the middle finger of her left hand into Mya’s puckered

anus, and the one on the right into her open cunt, and

began to work her in both openings at once. Ellis

started to work himself as they rolled over; like a

lot of smaller-breasted women (including Cindy Inc’s

own Shakira and J-Lo’s Sandra Bullock), Gwen Stefani

made up below what she didn’t have up top. Now she was

up top of Mya in both senses, though Mya’s “oooohs”

and “aaaaahs” were still coming through loud and clear

– Gwen had one of the loveliest asses in

entertainment, and to his delight Ellis saw Mya’s long

fingers fucking her undoubtedly well-cored butt.

He thrust away on his cock with increased intensity as

he listened to the two women grunt and curse while

they explored each other, Gwen kissing Mya’s tits

while the black singer bit the white singer’s shoulder

with passion. Gwen spread Mya’s legs apart and the

latter swiveled herself so Ellis was looking directly

between her legs. “You won’t see THIS in ‘Maxim,'” she

grinned, and pulled Gwen between her legs; Mya started

to pant almost at once. Ellis thought to herself that

she had to be putting it on – Gwen couldn’t be that

good…

Ellis’s cock was hurting watching the blonde’s head

moving inside Mya’s muff; all shaved (Gwen didn’t like

hairy cunts, which was one reason why she hoped she’d

never be with Elizabeth “The Naked Jungle” Hurley) and

tasty. He moved in, partly for a closer look at Gwen’s

tongue inside Mya’s slit, and partly because he wanted

to decorate Miss Harrison’s splendid tits with his

come. Mya was playing with said boobs as he and the

other man, similarly thrilled, stood next to her,

their cocks over her head. She threw it back and

yelled as Gwen flicked her little clit with her

tongue, and received the first dose of cum right in

her open mouth as the two men pulled – the mix of dark

nipple and white come had them thrusting even harder,

splashing out over Mya’s torso as she jerked on the

bed under Gwen’s hungry mouth.

Then Ellis Arnold and Peter Hobbs Sr used their

recharging cocks to wipe the semen over Mya’s breasts

until they were shining.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hobbs Sr? The dad was there too?”

“Yeah,” Gwen answered. “We get more fathers coming in

with their sons than you’d think. Sometimes we even

get relatives of some of our own coming in; just gotta

be careful that we don’t have the actual ladies on

duty that night. The dads usually go for different

women to the sons – ain’t too many kids want their

daddy’s sloppy seconds,” she added with a laugh. “Plus

most of them go for separate rooms.”

“Obviously. So what happened then?”

What happened then was that a reloaded Peter couldn’t

see too clearly. Because he had Gwen Stefani’s pussy

on his face, and she was riding him while whooping

like a demented cowgirl. He couldn’t see her gorgeous

little tits, but he knew they were there – he could

tell she’d had a lot of visitors to her snatch; loose,

but still snug. She took care of what she had below.

While he smelt Gwen’s pussy and started to nudge his

tongue inside, next to him Ellis was fondling Mya, who

was glad that little business earlier was over before

they got down to this; he had apologised profusely and

gone to the bathroom (it happened from time to time;

the ladies there had all experienced it).

“Hang on – he went to the toilet, you said?” the

officer interrupted. “About what time?”

“Around a quarter past one, I think,” Mya said. “He

didn’t go again after that time – he left about an

hour after the other guy left for good.”

“You mean Peter Hobbs?”

“Got it in one.”

“Around what time was that?”

“About ten to two.”

“Precise.”

“We need to keep track of time for our records and in

case the clients go over the limit. We’re not in this

just for the love of it, honey,” Mya smiled.

* * * * * * * * * *

Peter Hobbs had known he would be questioned sooner or

later. Not only had he definitely been out during the

time his son had been poisoned, but when he and his

friend Ellis had arrived at Cindy Inc. his son had

already been on the premises and was waiting for him.

He knew it looked bad for him – not only had Ellis not

known Peter Hobbs Version 2.0 was there, but he didn’t

even know what his son looked like.

“Now Mr Hobbs,” said the officer questioning him,

“would you mind telling us where you went after you

were through with the women?”

“I went down to the bar for a while – you can ask the

lady who was serving that night. I was there drinking,

chatting and thinking for a while – more of the other

two than the drinking. She’ll testify to that as

well… I can be a pretty boring talker,” Peter

replied calmly. “After a while I went up to her

boudoir.”

“Whose boudoir?”

“Cindy Crawford’s boudoir. “I went to see my son.”

“Not to see…”

“I admit I did feel up Cindy – the opportunity was

there, I took it, I’m not a stupid man you know – but

I didn’t touch Laetitia. And I did not kill my son.”

The officers believed him, but belief wasn’t enough.

* * * * * * * * * *

Laetitia was essentially being held under house arrest

until it was all cleared up, but she wasn’t short of

visitors. Most of them were supportive of her, but she

hadn’t forgotten the smug look on Tera Patrick’s face

– the message was clear: “You might be legit, but I’m

not the one suspected of murder.”

“You believe me, don’t you?” Laetitia begged Cindy,

who was being kept appraised of what was happening

with the case.

“Of course I do,” Cindy replied. “Do you think I’d

keep you here if I didn’t?”

“Keeping me in this… this… this carpet-lined

prison is believing me?”

“At least everyone knows where you are…” Cindy let

her voice tail off. “Ellis told the police he had to

put off boning Mya to go to a… pissoir.”

“Boning?” Laetitia asked.

Cindy made a familiar motion with the thumb and

forefinger of her left hand and the index finger of

her right. “Ah,” Laetitia said, and nodded.

“But why did he have to leave Gwen and Mya’s bedroom

to do it?”

This time Cindy didn’t have to explain; every boudoir

on the premises had a bathroom built in, along with

changing rooms and all the accessories from condoms to

ticklers. Maybe it was time for them to ask Ellis a

few other questions… she had never had anyone refuse

an invitation for one on the house before.

* * * * * * * * * *

Briana was used to pretending to come on camera, but

doing it on duty was something else again; she was

howling and gnashing as her customer ground away

inside her. She never put it on for the paying folks,

and this man here was trying his best, jammig himself

up her as hard and as fast as he could, licking her

tits and fondling her as he had what had to be his

first porn star fuck.

She gave out her best moans as she thrust back,

thinking she was going to wear down the mattress with

her energy, and waiting to feel the flow deep iside

her snatch… she felt the man quaking above her as he

gripped her tighter, and pumped everything he had into

her, shouting out her name as he changed all the times

he had jacked off to watching her with others into one

very real one-to-one here.

Briana felt the deep glow of satisfaction she had from

a job well done; a glow that would face later when she

checked the Cindy Inc. website to see comments about

herself, and see that the man had written “Not bad,

but I like real breasts like Laetitia’s better.” It

was the eighth and ninth words that set her off – she

was used to men saying they liked the real thing, but

getting compared to that French murderer was the last

straw.

Which was why she found herself tapping on Laetitia’s

door that morning. “Laetitia?” she called out. “Briana

Banks here.”

“I know,” said the lady on the other side. “You’re not

the most modest one here.”

“I just want to come in and talk to you,” Briana said.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ellis Arnold had decided to sacrifice his lunch hour

to come over to Cindy Inc.; hardly anyone got to come

here on the house (even the last President had had to

pay), but he knew it would be worth it. Cindy had

wined him, dined him and chatted him, and now she was

leading him hand in hand to her own suite. Ellis liked

them in their twenties, but what the hey; it wasn’t

like Cindy wasn’t getting better with age.

Cindy escorted him inside and indicated that he sit

down; Ellis failed to hide his eagerness as he watched

Cindy start to strip for him to the strains of the

opening music from “Basic Instinct.” She did it slowly

and sensuously, not really in time to the music, but

more to capture the mood. Ellis had seen that movie a

number of times, and recognised the music from the

off.

“You know, I don’t usually do this without a damn good

reason…” Cindy smiled as she let her shirt slip to

the floor and continued to sway, unzipping her dress.

“Because you like me?” the man asked.

“Actually, I’d love something from you,” Cindy said

seductively, sliding out of the dress and stepping

away, showing off her black-bra-and-panties-clad form

and keeping up her moves as she sidled up to him,

knowing her crotch was in line with his face. “Would

you like to finish the job?”

Ellis nodded, tracing his fingers along the front of

Cindy’s panties. He could feel the tuft of her pubes

underneath, and he was dying to put his fingers under

the fabric, so he could feel her lovely box for

himself. “I just have to ask you one question…”

Cindy breathed as he started to hook his fingers under

the lining. Man, she was so much better than Sharon

Stone ever was…

“Ask away,” the man replied.

“Where did you really go that night Peter Hobbs died?”

Cindy asked casually, and Ellis suddenly felt like

that guy in the first scene of the movie.

* * * * * * * * * *

Briana strolled down the hallway with a satisfied look

on her face; it hadn’t taken long in there at all, but

she had done what had to be done. “That’s one for us,”

she said to herself, and headed down to the gym to

cool off.

In her quarters, a red-eyed and tear-stained Laetitia

Casta stared in shock at the funnel that was still

protruding from between her legs; she told herself

that Briana Banks hadn’t just come in there, pummelled

her into submission, written “DANGER: POISON” on her

jugs with a felt tip, and poured the contents of a can

of Coke into her cunt (“You need to be washed out by

something all-American, you evil French bitch!” Briana

snarled as she let it flow – the frightened Laetitia

chose not to point out that Briana came from Germany),

stepping on her stomach as she left the sobbing woman.

“Damnez-vous à l’enfer, Bush,” Laetitia whispered. She

wouldn’t give Briana the satisfaction of saying “Damn

you to hell, Bush” in the language BB preferred.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I had to go to the toilet,” Ellis insisted. “I told

it to the cops, and I’m telling it to you.”

Ellis and Cindy were no longer alone – Cindy had given

in to her Jessica Fletcher tendencies and summoned all

the people involved together, except for Laetitia, who

had locked herself in her room and was refusing to

come out. Peter had also come down, and was watching

Ellis with interest. The women were also eyeing Ellis,

especially Gwen, who had found something almost creepy

about the way he had been studying her and Mya.

“I just didn’t know there was a toilet in her room,”

Ellis insisted.

“Oh come on, you’ve been here before!” Gwen shouted.

“You’ve been with ME before; I’ve still got the marks

from last time – ”

“Gwen, this isn’t about you,” Tera interrupted. “But

she’s right,” she continued, turning to Ellis, “you’ve

been here before, you must have known there’s

everything you need right to hand. And Cindy,” she

finished, facing the boss, “I’m willing to bet he was

the guy I heard while I was prepping myself.”

Prepping herself for her next trick, that is. Tera

liked to be in the mood all the time while she was on

duty; she was on her hands and knees at the time,

luxuriating in the carpet under her, and that of Erica

Campbell. Not in the flesh unfortunately, but a

realistically-designed doll with her face taped to the

front (it would do until the nude model herself

visited the next time). Tera licked “Erica’s”

faux-cunt while slowly working the next one in her

series of buttplugs into herself; she was trying to

find the biggest size she could take without it

disappearing up her and necessitating a(nother) trip

to the hospital. She felt each inch work its way up

her chute and winced as it was stretched further each

time; this was an effort now. Maybe she had better

stop before she found herself with a Naomi Campbell on

her hands – Molly Sims had joked on the night of her

recruitment that one of her first clients had left her

with a bigger asshole than Naomi Campbell, and the

name had stuck.

Tera slowly started to pull the plug out, letting out

a low “Aaaaaahhhhh…” as the pressure on her anus

eased up. As she did so, she heard someone passing by

outside. Not running or anything, just walking

steadily. Which was weird; people weren’t usually up

around in this part of the building this late. In

other parts, yes, but this was the bedroom area.

She heard a door open, and some minutes later the

familiar sound of a flush. “Ah,” Tera said to herself.

It happened sometimes. Her nosiness satisfied, she had

returned to munching on “Erica.”

“You see?” Ellis said triumphantly. “I DID go!”

“You had to leave a place with its own toilet to go to

another place that did?” Mya asked. “And where were

you again, TP?”

“Somewhere between where you and Miss

Pretty-Hot-For-Someone-With-No-Tits were,” Tera

answered, ignoring Gwen’s murderous glance, “and where

Casta and the boss were. Actually, the flush came from

somewhere pretty close to where Cindy was.”

“Is that a fact,” Cindy said, looking at Ellis. “You

don’t know what time it was, do you?”

“I don’t know…” Tera thought for a moment. “It might

have been about 1:30.”

“And you didn’t hear running… and it would take

about twenty minutes to do the round trip between our

place and Gwen’n’Mya…”

“I don’t have to tell you what I was flushing…”

Ellis started.

“Why would we think you were flushing anything apart

from… you know?” Cindy asked. “Unless there’s

something you want to tell us?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Ellis flustered.

“Unless you’ve suddenly become a cop. You want to talk

to somebody, talk to that Gallic cunt – the one that

Hobbs’ kid liked fucking so much.”

“And so did you,” said a calm Laetitia Casta from the

doorway. She still looked a little shaken, but her

eyes were clear, and her head was held high. She

looked directly at Ellis and nodded in recognition.

“You were in our room that night.”

“What are you talking about?” Ellis asked as Laetitia

came into the room.

“Don’t try and deny it,” she parried. “You were the

one who was touching me after Peter fell asleep… I

thought it was him at first. But whoever it was who

had me had a smaller penis than he did. And rougher

hands than he did. And worse breath than he did.” By

now she had her face right next to Ellis. “And Peter

called me a lot of things that night, but he never,

ever went [and she then adopted a mannish,

American-accented voice] ‘Oh yeah, how do you like

this grade A meat, you Gallic cunt?’ Does that sound

familiar, Mr. Arnold? Or did you think – ”

“YOU WERE ASLEEP!” Ellis shouted, and the penny

dropped for all.

“I was faking it,” Laetitia said quietly. “You must be

used to women doing that with you.”

“Fuck off back to Frogland – no, go back to England,

you’ll fit right in with those bad teeth.”

“At least they’re real,” Mya retorted. “Like your

caps, Ellie.”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” Ellis yelled. “What the

frigging hell is WRONG with all of you? Especially

you, Crawford – I can’t believe you actually let

this… this… this refugee from the land of stuck-up

appeasers hang around here!”

“So that was what this was about?” Peter asked. “You

don’t like Laetitia because she’s French?”

“You’re goddamned right I don’t,” his colleague

breathed. “Bunch of – ”

“Cheese-eating surrender monkeys, I have heard it all

before,” Laetitia interrupted. “You’re lucky we

haven’t fired a missile from the Eiffel Tower at you,

you… slack-jawed yokel?”

“Got it in one,” Cindy smiled, as Gwen started to

summon the police. “Make yourself at home, Mr. Arnold.

It’ll be a while before the boys in blue arrive.”

“Maybe Laetitia’ll give you a blowjob to pass the

time,” Gwen suggested. “She’s really good.”

Ellis was silent. He told himself he had butt-fucked

Laetitia out of contempt for her and her country, not

because she was so sexy and gorgeous. He kept telling

himself this as Miss Casta unzipped his trousers,

studied his prick in her hand, opened her mouth, and

began to give him his real punishment – long after he

would be released from prison, and for the rest of his

life, he would remember that the best blowjob he ever

had came from a fucking Frenchwoman.

* * * * * * * * * *

The poison had been injected into Peter’s calf at an

angle that indicated it was from someone standing next

to the bed; both Cindy and Laetitia’s testimonies made

it clear that they were both in bed at the time. Plus

some traces of the poison that Ellis had flushed down

the toilet were still in the water that it found its

way into, and to cap it all there were a few prints on

the syringes they’d found in Laetitia’s quarters. All

his. Making him both xenophobic and stupid.

Ellis had never been too fond of the French, and

recent world events had intensified his dislike even

more. Ellis had also not been too fond of Peter Hobbs:

The Next Generation for being a Francophile. “He

thought my son was a traitor,” Hobbs: The Original

told Cindy some time later. “I’m not a great admirer

of France myself, but I never stood in the way of my

son’s wishes, unless it hurt him. There was the time

he wanted to go climbing in New Zealand without

oxygen…”

“That’s children for you,” Cindy said.

“So Ellis… he killed my son because he hated France

and everything linked to it.”

“And he tried to frame Laetitia for it – he must have

found out about the time you and her were together. He

did his research, I’ll give the bastard that much…

why are you looking at me that way?”

“It’s just that it’s strange hearing you say

‘Bastard.'”

“You should hear me during rush hour,” Cindy laughed.

“The funny thing is, he actually did my son a

favour… Pete started complaining that he was ill

earlier this year; took him to several doctors, all

agreed that it was the same thing…” Hobbs’ voice

tailed off, and Cindy didn’t pursue the matter. “There

was nothing any of them could do. I knew he had a

massive crush on Laetitia Casta, so…”

“Yes. I know.”

“Where’s Miss Casta? I want to thank her. For giving

Pete a happy last night.”

“She’s delivering a message,” Cindy told him. “Ellis

Arnold’s not the only one who needs a lesson…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hi, Briana?” Laetitia said to her colleague in the

shower.

“What do you want, Casta?”

“You’re fired. Effective immediately.”

Briana dropped the soap she was holding and stared at

Laetitia, smiling back at her through the water.

“I’m… WHAT?!”

“I told Cindy about your little exhibition the other

day,” Laetitia explained. “She was furious… she

wanted to call you in there on the spot…”

“That doesn’t give you the right to give me the axe,

you little snot!”

“Not in itself, no,” Laetitia agreed.

“I’m going to go and talk to the boss right now – ”

“Why bother? She said I could give you the message

myself; said it would serve you right.” Laetitia

pressed her real breasts against Briana’s silicone

sacks and French-kissed her departing rival. “As they

say here, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the

way out.”

Briana’s face contorted in disgust, and she ran out of

the shower, as a contented Laetitia picked up the soap

and started to lather herself.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Are you sure you want to go there, sir?” asked

John Casablancas’ chauffeur.

“Yes, very sure,” said the head of Elite. “I might as

well pay one of my protegees a visit.”

“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur said instead of “Oh for

God’s sake man, you didn’t CREATE her!” or words to

that effect going through his head. Like most of

Cindy’s (and other models’) fans, he was sick and

tired of his boss telling everyone under the sun that

they wouldn’t have made it if it hadn’t been for him,

but as long as he was driving for the big-headed fat

fucker he had no option but to keep his mouth shut.

“Unless she’s banned me?” he asked.

“No – no one’s banned without doing something first.

Not even her dad.”

“Avaricious little bitch,” Casablancas chuckled.

“Still, I think it’s time she paid me back for all I

did for her…”

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