Message-ID: <58472asstr$1231668602@assm.asstr.org>
From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2009 03:41:50 +0000 (UTC)
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: i18g2000prf.googlegroups.com; posting-host=222.127.245.29; 
	posting-account=JabuVAoAAACpzQZHTRyS7ub3Un5mIVxy
User-Agent: G2/1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Cinderella 2 Ch.2 by Rachael Ross (Fantasy, Romance, Transgender,  Oral, Anal)
Lines: 1382
Date: Sun, 11 Jan 2009 05:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

    A Cinderella Story
    cindy02.jpg

    Copyright 2007-2008 Severe Productions Ltd. All rights reserved.
    Intended for adults only. TS.Severe@yahoo.com

    Note: You should be intimate with Cinderella Book 1 and Cinderella
1.5 before reading this story. Visit my blog at http://severeutopia.blogspot.com/
and my website at http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm for details
and rules. Family members are not eligible for cash or grand prize
drawings. One rache will be given away on June 31 2009 no purchase
required. Enter as often as you like.


    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    A Cinderella Story
    By T.S.Severe

    Cinderella 2 - Chapter 2


        "Shhh...Don't stop...Ummm..." I murmured, holding the girl's head
with my right hand while I massaged my breasts with the other.

        It had taken me three days to get her into my bed. Three long
days of being photographed, waiting to be photographed, watching a
dozen other women get photographed. The Sports Illustrated shoot was
one of the biggest of the year and it was a competition, a very
serious one, with the cover being the only prize. Girls wept with
bitter disappointment when they didn't get the cover. Rivalries were
formed, petty jealousy and resentment became pronounced as the shoot
continued and would grow in proportion to the hyped anticipation
during the months that followed.

        That sounds dumb and very over-dramatic, I know, but in the
silly world of fashion modeling that one cover could make or break a
career. That one issue sold more copies worldwide than any other ten
issues combined. It made the girl who got the cover, and her ego, a
household name overnight. She became instantly recognizable by a third
of the planet. Her rates would soar as she suddenly had her pick of
the choice assignments. It was a very big deal and very stressful, as
you can imagine.

        That was why we had parties every night, both to let loose our
nervous energy and to try and get the other girls so drunk that they
looked like shit the next morning. At least that's what us younger
models were doing. The older and more experienced women knew better
and closeted themselves away, or else sat at the bar drinking mineral
water and watching the drunken antics of a bunch of 19 and 20 year
olds trying to outdo each other. A dozen of the world's most beautiful
women unsupervised and unrestrained in a tropical paradise...Imagine
that.

        "I'm drunk," Fernanda giggled, kneeling on the floor of my
cabana, which was more of a suite than a hut. It only looked primitive
from the outside, deliberately so; the inside was very much what I'd
come to expect from exclusive resorts like this one.

        "Shhh...Don't stop...Ummm..." I murmured, and the girl was amazingly
beautiful with her big brown eyes, thick black hair, and rich caramel
complexion. We went well together, I thought, especially her pouting
mouth and my swollen penis.

        The Brazilian made a soft purring sound deep in her delicate
throat, not resisting at all as she took my cock between her lips. I'd
already fucked several of the other girl's, but Fernanda was the one I
really wanted and after six stout margaritas I finally had her. I was
a little buzzed too, but clear enough to know what I was doing, and I
didn't feel very guilty about taking advantage of the young
supermodel. She was barely 18, but hardly innocent and Fernanda would
have done the same to me or anyone else in a heartbeat. Seducing each
other was one of our favorite games and most of the girls played it
every chance they got.

        "Down with these..." Ana whispered, another Brazilian model, and
I wasn't sure if she was 18 yet or not, it depended on who you
happened to be asking. She was undoing Fernanda's shorts, kneeling
behind the girl and reaching around to work the buttons free.

        They were like gorgeous siblings, with Ana being the lighter
of the two in her skin and hair, and Fernanda decorated with small
tribal tattoos inside her wrists. They both had small tits, firm and
proud with the perfection of youth. Fernanda's nipples were very dark
and swollen, and that was the look that really attracted me to the
girl. I loved her tits and her narrow hips as well. I adored girls
with tomboy bodies, perhaps because my own was so entirely voluptuous.
Whatever the reason, I was staring with rapt fascination while Ana
removed her friend's shorts and with them Fernanda's white thong. The
neatly trimmed nest of the girl's pubic hair was plainly visible in
the well lit room. I smiled appreciatively when Ana's fingers slipped
across Fernanda's sex, wiggling and scratching lightly at the girl's
soft pubis.

        "Is she wet?" I wondered and Ana grinned at me, curling her
middle finger and slipping it inside Fernanda's pussy.

        "Mmphh..." The girl gave a soft gasp around my cock, but she
wasn't pulling away.

        Her mouth was warm and wet, and Fernanda's tongue moving
beneath the sensitive glans was almost too much for me to take. She'd
peeled the foreskin back and the sensation was a delightful torment as
I was unused to being exposed that way. The pleasure was far more
invasive, however, filling me with a lusty fever and I wrapped my
fingers in her thick black hair, lifting my hips to fuck her face. I
was going to cum much too soon, the way I always did, but that wasn't
a bad thing. Being the girl I was, despite my cock and balls, I would
be more than able to cum a half dozen times easily before we were
finished. Ejaculation had very little to do with it; my fairy
godmother had seen to that.

        "She's fucking soaked!" Ana giggled, her lilting voice laced
with a sweet Portuguese accent. "Like a fucking pig, 'Nana...You fucking
sex pig!"

        I laughed, sticking my tongue out at the girl's vulgar words.
She loved to swear and it was cute and sexy hearing the worst things
imaginable spilling from Ana's innocent mouth. She was putting it to
better use a few seconds later, pushing Fernanda's lush thighs wide
apart and licking at the girl's cunt from behind. The room was open to
the beach outside, with long silk curtains flowing on the humid
breeze, but even the ripe scent of low tide was soon overcome by the
heady odor of female desire. I could smell their arousal as Fernanda
wagged her hips and arched her back against her friend's wetly lapping
tongue. Anna was fingering her own pussy as well, crouched low like an
animal and filling the room with the sounds of sexual feeding.

        They were devoted lovers, as everyone knew, and while Fernanda
had tried to avoid my seductive efforts, Ana had played my accomplice.
Now we were sharing the girl and I was breathing thickly through my
nose, watching Fernanda's tight mouth sliding up and down the pink
shaft of my aching cock. I wished it was longer just then, something
more manly to open the beauty's throat with, but my girlish cock
enough for our pleasure in any event. Fernanda was a wonderful
cocksucker, holding me between her lips while her hands stroked my
thighs and squeezed my flesh. She was breathing easily, punctuating
her tender efforts with soft moans and muffled gasps when Ana would
find someplace especially sensitive with her tongue and fingers.

        "I'm going to cum..." I warned the girl weakly, opening my mouth
to drink thick air into my heaving lungs. My balls were tight as I
tried to hold myself back, and inside my tummy all those wonderful
butterflies were striving for release.

        "On her face! I want to see it on her face!" Ana breathed,
sliding her wet mouth along Fernanda's supple spine. She was crawling
atop the other girl, spreading her legs awkwardly to straddle
Fernanda's hips as she knelt hands and knees on the floor.

        "Uh yeah...ummm...okay..." I bit my lip with the effort of lasting
just a few seconds longer, reaching for my cock and reluctantly
pulling it from that sweet home I'd found in Fernanda's mouth.

        "No..." Fernanda frowned, pouting and licking her lips and
trying to catch my cock once more, but Ana had taken the girl by the
hair.

        "Shut-up!" Ana laughed, yanking Fernanda's face upward to look
at me as I jerked off above them and two or three strokes was all it
would take.

        "Why...did you...stop..." Fernanda breathed, tilting her head
slightly and looking dazed as she felt Ana's mouth on her ear.

        "Becuhhhh...Oh! Fugghhh!" I couldn't get the words out as my
orgasm suddenly exploded out of my balls. I kept stroking my cock, the
head just a few inches above Fernanda's exotic face, as thin jets of
hot sperm sprayed across her cheeks and nose.

        Ana was right there, holding her friend steady with both
hands. Her fingers were knotted in Fernanda's hair at the top, and her
other hand was beneath the girl's jaw. Ana giggled happily, watching
with breathless wonder as my cum painted Fernanda's brown skin with a
sticky glaze of pale semen. Ana pushed two fingers between Fernanda's
lips, telling the girl to open up and I slapped my cock against the
girl's long, pink tongue as it wriggled outward. Ana played with it
for a moment while my climax weakened, trying to pinch the soft muscle
between her fingers and finally just fucking three long digits into
Fernanda's spermy mouth.

        I sat back on the bed, breathing heavily and rubbing my tits,
pinching my burning nipples as the two Brazilians kissed, if that's
what it could be called. Ana was licking at Fernanda's face, keeping
her fingers in the girl's mouth while she dragged her tongue across
the semen I'd left behind. She would suck at the gooey mess, gathering
my cum and then bringing her mouth close to Fernanda's and spitting it
violently at the other girl's open mouth. Ana's fingers would play
with the growing pool of sperm and saliva until finally Ana pulled her
fingers free and covered Fernanda's lips with her own, sealing their
mouths together tightly.

        The scene was hot and nasty and while I couldn't see what was
happening, it was plain from the soft sounds they made that Ana's
tongue was fucking her friend's mouth deeply. I could hear the moans
and soft swallowing coming from both of them and my cock hadn't gone
soft at all. I was still stroking it, feeling the intense warmth in my
tummy, the adrenaline in my blood. I'd cum, but it had been hardly
satisfying and I moved to take a comfortable position behind them.
Ana's cunt was high and glistening with excitement. I could see her
golden thighs wet and between them, the girl's distended labia were
long and thick and dark. She had a tattoo as well, in the small of her
back and opened my mouth, drooling a puddle of spit onto it that I
spread across her painted flesh with my thumbs.

        I slipped my cock between Ana's pussy lips easily, driving all
of my cock inside the girl with a single thrust as she lay atop
Fernanda. They'd collapsed to the floor, still kissing while Ana moved
her body against the other girl's back, rubbing her tits and belly
along Fernanda's flushed skin. I reached across the girl, taking Ana
by the shoulders as I knelt behind her, thrusting with my hips and
working my swollen cock in and out of her. I'd fuck them both before
the night was over, and they'd fuck me and each other in as many ways
as we could imagine, until we were exhausted and falling asleep in
each other's arms.


    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


        "You look like hell," Sophia frowned, entering the large tent
that was being used for makeup.

        "You should see the other girl," I said, smiling weakly and
trying to be patient while Erin, my personal artist on this shoot,
tried to get rid of the thin bags under my eyes.

        "Barros?" Sophia said. "I saw her. She looks okay."

        "Nooo..." I giggled. "Not Ana. I'm talking about Fernanda. I
think she's still in my bed."

        "Which one?" Sophia pulled up a canvas director's chair. "Just
make her eyes black or something."

        "Or something," Erin sighed. "She does this on purpose, you
know."

        "Fernanda Lessa," I told Sophia, since there were two of them.
Tavares was the older one and kind of stuck up, but I'd do her too,
given half a chance.

        "I know she does," my assistant was looking at Erin, ignoring
me.

        "Hey! I'm right here, you know." I pouted a little. "Anyway,
all I have to do is sit on some rocks. Have you seen that bikini they
want me to wear?"

        "No," Sophia shook her head.

        "It's freakin' tiny! God! They're gonna put my balls on the
cover if they're not careful," I said. "That'll be a big seller!"

        "Hold still..." Erin grabbed my jaw in her gentle, but strong
fingers and I had little choice. "You'll be lucky to get in the
magazine at all if you keep this up."

        "I'll go see Gabby," Sophia said, meaning the wardrobe
supervisor. If there was a problem with the suit though, she'd have to
take it up with Maggie, who was the SI editor in charge of the shoot
and the person who had the final say about who was wearing what.

        "So how was your night, anyway?" I asked, kind of mumbling the
words as it was hard to talk.

        "Pretty good," Sophia told me, smiling so I'd know I was
forgiven. "That guy you thought was gay..."

        "Terry?"

        "Perry," she corrected me with a grin and a nod. "He's
definitely not gay."

        "Ummm?" I arched my eyebrows and Sophia was grinning at me.
"Ooh uck im?

        "Stop talking!" Erin was trying to airbrush my lips or
something.

        "Yeah..." Sophia sighed airily. "I fucked him."

        "Perry?" Erin asked with a little snort. "I thought he was
queer too."

        I really wanted to say something, just to tease Sophia about
attracting fags, but Erin was holding my jaw like a vise and it kind
of hurt. She was punishing me, I thought, for making her look bad. It
wasn't my fault I only got an hour of sleep. Those Brazilian girls
just love to fuck!

        My shoot lasted three hours with two wardrobe changes right
there on the setup. A couple guys would hold curtains around me and
that was always good for a giggle. I was so tired I could barely keep
my balance. At least my cock was nice and soft, tucked safely away and
out of sight. Most people didn't believe I really had one, even after
they saw it. I'd posed completely naked before, like when I'd done a
shoot for GQ and had nothing but a palm frond to cover my nipples and
sex. I'd just pushed my cock and balls down, kept my thighs together,
and the cover had been the most downloaded image on the net for a
month afterwards.

        People see what they want to see and there was a lot of talk
about how if you looked real close you could see my pussy lips. It was
pretty funny to me, but Sophia and especially Mr. Goethe took that
stuff seriously and even encouraged it, the pussy lips part, I mean. I
was a girl with a big clit and that was all, and it even said I was
female on my passport, driver's license, all that stuff. Mr. Goethe
had gotten my name changed to Cindy, just that one word, and then he'd
gotten the judge to seal my records afterwards. I wasn't sure how much
that had cost, but it was worth it. Nobody could find out who I really
was or where I came from or anything without a court order. Even then,
my birth certificate wasn't even mine.

        I was just Cindy.

        "This came for you today," Sophia said over lunch, reaching
into her bag and pulling out a letter. I'd wanted to skip eating and
just lie down, but that would have made the afternoon worse and I knew
it. One of the girls had offered me some speed, which had been
tempting, believe me, but Sophia would have gone ballistic, so I was
suffering.

        "We got mail?" I gave her a confused look. "Here?"

        "Eva and Wolfgang brought it with them," Sophia shrugged. "I
wasn't sure you should see it, but..."

        "Eva and Wolfgang are here?" I smiled at that, lifting my head
and looking around the restaurant. It was part of the resort, all open
and overlooking the lagoon.

        "They're getting unpacked," Sophia said. "Probably sleeping."

        "Sleeping? I doubt that," I giggled. "They're probably...What's
this?"

        I'd opened the envelope, which had already been opened anyway,
like all of my mail was. Mr. Goethe and Sofia protected me from the
lunatics who wrote me everything from obscene marriage proposals to
promises of a quick and painful death for just being me. I'd expected
a letter, or something, but all that was in it was a newspaper
clipping, neatly folded and without any marks or explanation.

        "Sept 11 Hero Found Dead," I read the headline aloud, blinking
at it, and then started reading the article.

        Former NYPD lieutenant and hero of the 2001 World Trade Center
attacks, Michael Cicero, was found dead in his Brooklyn apartment
Wednesday afternoon. A spokesman for the New York police department
was unable to disclose specific details, but did confirm that the 47
year old Cicero died of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Cicero received the Medal of Bravery for his actions on September 11,
when he entered the stricken South Tower to assist with the evacuation
prior to the building's collapse. His wife, Connie Cicero, who worked
in the WTC, and four year old son, Michael Jr. were among the more
than 2,700 victims who perished...

        "Where did this come from?" I asked, looking at the envelope.
It was postmarked a week before in New York, but there was no return
address. There was only a printed mailing label with my name on it,
addressed in care of Mr. Goethe's New York offices.

        "Are you alright?" Sophia asked me.

        "No," I shook my head. "I'm not alright at all."

        "Do you want to cancel this afternoon?"

        "What?" I stared at her, not understanding immediately what
she'd said.

        "Your shoot this afternoon?" Sophia was reaching for me,
touching my shoulder. "I'll talk to Maggie and..."

        "No." I swallowed thickly. "I'll, uh...I can do it. I just..."

        There was a pain between my eyes, a real one as I tried to
hold back the tears. My brow was tightly furrowed, squnching my eyes
and making my lips tremble. My face was a melting mask of sadness and
I turned toward Sophia so she could pull me against her. The girl had
no idea who Mike was or what he meant to me, but this was the reaction
she'd been afraid of and I realized that it must have been Mr.
Goethe's decision to tell me the news.

        I did the afternoon, giving the photographer none of what he
demanded. I couldn't smile and I didn't even try, despite his non-stop
complaints, threats, and promises. What he had was usable anyway, all
expectations to the contrary. Maggie was excited when she stopped by
to watch me. I was the world's most beautiful woman in a sullen
disquiet, at odds with the paradise surrounding me. She didn't ask
why, Maggie merely smiled, nodding her head enthusiastically and
telling me I was perfect. I was barely aware of her at all and I just
wanted the day to be over.

        "He's worried, isn't he?" I asked Sophia as we rode the jeep
back to the resort.

        "Mr. Goethe?" she asked and then nodded. "Yeah. He doesn't
know what it means."

        "Why someone would send me the clipping," I agreed with a sigh
and we were quiet after that. I hadn't seen Mike in over a year, not
since I'd walked out on him. I hadn't even known the guy, not really,
but I'd missed him sometimes. I'd looked forward to seeing him again.
His loss was painful and I'd wept once already and knew I would again.
I wondered if it was my fault, if just calling Mike could have saved
his life, and that was another pain altogether.

        "You must put it in perspective," Wolfgang said after I'd
showered and made myself comfortable. "Explain to us who this person
was and why he was important to you."

        "It's...personal," I told him, lying lengthwise on a rattan sofa
and shaking my wet hair loose over the armrest. I was wearing shorts
and a t-shirt and I just wanted to sort it out. To understand that
Mike could really be dead. That he could have killed himself.

        "We understand," Eva said gently. "Allow me. Please?"

        She picked up a wide-toothed comb and then sat on the floor,
pulling it slowly through my thick, black hair. It felt good,
reassuring somehow, just that simple thing and I closed my eyes
against the occasional tug when my hair would snarl and be caught
until Eva could free it.

        "We can't protect you if we don't know everything," Wolfgang
said from the chair where he was sitting.

        "That's why you're here, right?" I sighed, crossing my arms
over my tummy. "Mr. Goethe thinks I'm in danger?"

        "He's just worried," Sophia said. "We all are. He said the man
was a friend of yours. That you were living with him and now someone
has sent you that article. It means something, Cindy."

        "Who would send it?" Wolfgang shrugged. "Why is there no
letter? No return address?"

        "We must be suspicious, ja?" Eva asked me, not looking for an
answer but merely explaining.

        "Mike was..." I shrugged. "He was my friend, yeah. He was
helping me, before I met Mr. Goethe."

        "A romantic friend?" Wolfgang asked and I didn't open my eyes,
but merely nodded.

        "He loved me," I said softly. "I left him. It was hard for
both of us."

        "You were together long?" Eva wondered.

        "No," I answered her. "We barely knew each other really. A
month, maybe a little longer."

        I was falling asleep beneath the soothing sensation of Eva's
hands in my hair. I'd gotten so little sleep the night before and
after forcing myself to work through he afternoon, I was exhausted. I
knew they were waiting for the explanation, the answers to all their
questions, but I couldn't think about that. I couldn't find the energy
to try and explain the impossible, nor did I want to. The only two
people I'd ever told were both dead now. Evelyn first and now, nearly
a year and half later, Mike. It frightened me more than I was willing
to admit and I was eager to let myself fall into the empty comfort of
dreamless sleep.


    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


        I was building a sandcastle, wearing a thong and nothing else.
Hal, one of the photographer's assistants, was holding a reflector to
catch the sun; just a large oval of stretched canvas. The wind was
blowing hard off the ocean and he was struggling with it. Rita,
another assistant, was wiping at the sand clinging to my lower back
and the exposed cleavage of my ass where the red thong was riding low.

        "Over your shoulder, Cindy...Perfect...More, cup your tits for me
and turn...turn...wait...nice..."

        I was doing what Peter wanted, the photographer, but I wanted
to finish my sand castle too and I kept going back to it. I had a
small pink bucket and a little blue shovel. I was making a tower and
pausing every now and again to give the camera my best come-fuck-me
look. I'd arch my back and push out my breasts, covering my nipples
with one arm and then the other. I let Rita move my hair, arranging it
to clothe my tits long enough for a quick flurry of shots, and then
the breeze would blow it away and I'd giggle at my sudden immodesty.
Peter would take pictures of that as well, capturing forever the
spontaneous joy illuminating my face.

        I took a deep breath and held out my arms as Erin was there,
fixing my makeup real quickly and then pouring oil over my shoulders.
She was massaging it into my deeply tanned skin, making my body gleam
beneath the Tahitian sun. It was a beautiful day, a perfect day, and I
was impatient to finish my sand castle. When Erin was satisfied, I
went back to it, digging into sand as white and fine as the sugar I
put in my coffee.

        The smell of the reef a thousand yards off shore was strong
today, thick with brine, and I could taste the salt on my tongue and
the oily flavor of cocoa-butter evaporating from my flesh. The tide
was low enough so that we could see the uneven crest of the coral wall
appearing and disappearing like the ragged spine of a sea serpent. The
waves were pounding relentlessly against it and the dull roar was
ceaseless and lulling me to sleep. To dream.

        "I'm dreaming," I said, sifting the sand through my fingers,
pouring it out of my child's bucket while Peter told me I was
beautiful.

        The sand glittered like tiny flecks of diamond as it ran
between my fingers and there was something there. A flash of red in
the center of my palm and I let my bucket go, picking up the ruby I'd
found and holding it up against the endless blue sky. It was an
earring, a lonely stud missing its mate, and I smiled at it even as
the reef crumbled and a violent wall of seething water charged across
the lagoon.

        "Come on! Cindy! Run!" Hal was yelling at me, tossing his
bouncer aside and tugging at my hand. Rita was already gone and Peter
was running along the beach, still taking pictures.

        I was running and stumbling, being pulled along by Hal, but
the sand was thick and soft, fighting every step I took. I realized
I'd lost the earring. I'd dropped it and I tried to shake the man off
me, turning so that I could go back and find it. The wave was rolling
over my sand castle, wiping it away in front of my eyes and Hal was
still tugging at my arm, refusing to let me go. I was screaming at
him. I had to go back...

        "Let me go!" I sat up with a shout, sweating and breathless
and I blinked at Sophia who was holding my hand, sitting on the floor
next to me.

        "You're alright, Cindy," she said. "It's just a dream."

        "Oh God," I breathed, nodding my head and licking my lips.
"What time is it?"

        "Almost eight." Sophia reached for a pitcher of water on the
nearby coffee table, pouring me a glass. "I didn't want to let you
sleep too long, or you'd be up at midnight or something. Are you
okay?"

        "Yeah. I'm fine," I said, taking the glass with a grateful
smile and the water was nice and cold.

        "We'll eat something and then you can get a good night's
sleep," Sophia told me. "Alone for a change."

        "Heh!" I smiled at her as my heart finally began to slow down.

        "What were you dreaming about?" Sophia asked me as I changed
clothes.

        "Oh, ummm..." I looked down as I buttoned my blouse. "A girl I
used to know."

        "Hmmm..." she seemed to consider that, but didn't ask me
anything else.

        Eva and Wolfgang were waiting for us outside my door and I
gave them a look. "You're not planning on guarding me all night or
something, are you?"

        "What?" Wolfgang chuckled. "No, we're just waiting for you."

        "We eat now," Eva said with a smile.

        "Okay," I agreed. "I just wanted to make sure."

        "Relax," Sophia said as we walked towards the hotel proper, a
large colonial structure painted white and brightly lit. "It's not so
bad having them around, is it?"

        "No," I admitted grudgingly, but we both knew none of the
other models had any bodyguards with them.

        Sports Illustrated was providing all the security and that was
pretty normal for any large shoot. A lot of models didn't even have
permanent protection, or if they did it was just one person usually.
Now I was walking around with two personal shadows and that would
raise some eyebrows. A couple more people and I'd start looking like
Jennifer Lopez showing up with her posse everywhere she went. That
wasn't a thought intended to excite me.

        "Cindy! Welcome," a handsome Tahitian man greeted us with a
bow. "We have a table right this way..."

        "Hmmm..." I smiled apologetically. "Do you have something with a
little more privacy?"

        "Of course," he said, nodding quickly with a reassuring smile.
"If you'll follow me..."

        The restaurant specialized in the local dishes, of course, but
offered a fine French cuisine as well. Sophia was having Mahi-Mahi,
and Eva had decided on a Polynesian pork dish while Wolfgang went for
chateaubriand. I, being a supermodel like I was, ordered without
bothering with a menu.

        "I want a cheeseburger," I told our waiter. "A really thick
one, medium-rare and, um...just put the pickles and stuff on the side,
alright? Do you have yellow mustard or is it all Dijon?"

        "Cindy!" Sophia was giggling at me and I shushed her with my
hand.

        "Nevermind, just put the mustard on the side too," I
continued. "And French fries. A big order, like a double order of
fries. With lots of mayo. And uhhhh...You probably don't have any
shakes, huh?"

        "American milkshake?" the man asked me seriously.

        "Is there any other kind?" I asked him with a grin. "Bring me
a chocolate shake, but with one scoop of vanilla in it too. I don't
like it too chocolaty, okay?"

        "Of course," he smiled and I wondered what I'd have to order
to stump the guy.

        "I like the milkshake also," Eva said after the waiter was
gone and I laughed at her.

        "You should have ordered one!" I said. "When he comes back,
I'll tell him. You guys want shakes too?" I looked at Sophia and
Wolfgang and they were ignoring me, sharing looks like they were
embarrassed to be seen with me. Liars!

        I was feeling much better after my nap, even though the dream
had been a little freaky at the time, but I took it as a sign. I'd
never forgotten Evelyn and I wasn't about to. She was always with me.
Sometimes, when I would see or hear or smell something that reminded
me of her, I would feel a warmth inside. A comforting presence that I
wanted to embrace. Other times, when I felt myself to be most alone,
she was the hole in my heart and it hurt so bad that I would have to
stop whatever it was I was doing and close my eyes until it went away.

        But it never did. Not really.

        If I was going to find out who had killed her and find some
kind of justice, I was going to need help. I'd long since decided
that, and even before learning of Mike's suicide, I'd come to the
conclusion that Eva and Wolfgang were the ones I would turn to. Sooner
or later I would have had to explain what I wanted and why; Mike's
death had only hastened that day. It was why I'd been dreaming of
Evelyn. She was calling me. Asking me if I'd forgotten her.

        The room wasn't large, but it was private and very
comfortable. We sat around a table of polished mahogany, in
comfortable chairs eating slowly. Three of the four walls were open to
the air, the room built on stilts over the edge of the lagoon and
jutting out from the restaurant proper. The fourth wall had a sliding
door which was closed now that our food had been delivered. I'd just
spent half an hour explaining where Cindy had come from, trying my
best to make it sound almost plausible. But with fairy godmothers and
changing from Robert into Cindy overnight...Nobody else was saying very
much and I looked around at my three friends slowly.

        "You guys think I'm crazy, right?" I asked them all, letting
my gaze settle on Sophia finally. I really needed her to believe me.

        "I don't, um..." Sophia looked pale and she took a large swallow
of her white wine.

        I sighed inwardly, thinking I was going to be looking for a
new assistant in the morning. Eva and Wolfgang were leaning towards
each other, whispering in German, and I didn't think that was a good
sign either. If I knew anything about Germans, and I'd been getting a
good education over the past year, believe me, I'd learned that they
are an eminently practical people. Very hands on and not overly given
to flights of fancy. Even in their arts, it was no mistake that they
had produced the most wonderful composers the world had ever known.
German architecture, wood cutting, painting, all of it the equal of
any other culture in the world, but their literary genius for fiction
was meager by comparison and asking them to believe my story was
probably asking too much.

        "I know him," Sophia said softly and I blinked at that.

        "Who?" I asked her.

        "I mean, I don't really know him," Sophia cleared her throat.
"I met him. The man, uh...Paul."

        "Met him where?" I felt suddenly nervous, almost frightened,
but I couldn't explain why.

        "Ja," Eva said before Sophia could answer me. "We also know
this man."

        "What?" I snapped my head around and Wolfgang was nodding.

        "He was exactly as you describe him," Wolfgang said with a
small shrug. "He was very strange, even for an American."

        "He wanted to kiss Wolfgang," Eva said with a smile, as if
that explained everything.


    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

        Prague is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe and
unlike many other places it had escaped much of the destruction
visited upon the continent during World War Two. The couple, a man and
woman, seemed by all outward appearance to be enjoying their visit to
the Czech capital. They strolled along the cobblestone thoroughfare as
if they were tourists, walking east from the Church of St. Nicholas
towards the Charles Bridge and Old Town on the other side of the
Vltava River.

        Even in late spring the sun sets early behind the hills
surrounding Prague and an unseasonable fog covered the water, rolling
up the river's banks before slowly dying in the narrow streets. The
Charles Bridge, built in the 14th century and later embellished with
the statues of saints, was normally a showpiece of the city, but now
it too was shrouded in mist. The vague glow of yellow streetlamps
added to the surreal ambiance as the couple crossed the bridge slowly.

        Every now and again they would pause to admire one of the
thirty bronze statues that adorned each side of the bridge at precise
intervals. Some of the statues were worn in places, as they were
touched by the many pedestrians who traversed the span each day. Near
the center of the bridge, which was nearly a third of a mile long,
they found the statue of St. John Nepomuk, a catholic priest whose
tortured body, according to legend, had been thrown into the river
from that very spot in 1393. For that reason he was especially popular
with the superstitious Czechs. The bronze relief had a brightly
polished sheen to it near the base and the woman followed local
custom, stroking the metal with her fingertips for luck.

        The man and his companion remained there, standing near the
railing while the river, swollen with spring rains, swirled around and
past the great sandstone piers supporting the structure. The bridge
had never been open to motorized traffic and the couple was
undisturbed by the occasional passage of a pedestrian intent on
hurrying home after a long day. Very few people looked at the pair.
They would appear and disappear like apparitions in the dense fog,
walking quickly with their eyes cast down and shoulders slumped
against the pervasive gloom. Even the most pragmatic of them couldn't
have anticipated the damp chill that now enveloped their fair city.

        "Perhaps he's changed his mind," the woman said with a glance
at her watch, but her companion shook his head and then his shoulders
beneath the wool overcoat he wore.

        "Patience," he replied. "The fog is making him cautious,
that's all."

        Some ten minutes later his confidence was proven correct when
a solitary figure approached from the east. He was tall and well
rounded, like a bear shambling from the mist in his heavy fur coat.
His pace slowed when he saw the pair waiting for him and he looked
around nervously, but for all intents and purposes they were alone for
at least a dozen yards in either direction; beyond that it was
impossible to see or hear anyone.

        The girl turned her back to the railing, leaning against it
with her hands in the pockets of her red leather jacket. She was very
tall and thin, and the way she stood might have suggested a defiant
availability, a challenge that many men found provocative in an
attractive young woman, but that was a deliberate and well-practiced
deception.

        "Juergen?" the newcomer asked softly, his thick Russian accent
obvious, even in that one simple word

        "Ja," the man replied. "Did you bring it?"

        The Russian hesitated and then held up a leather case, a soft
satchel of the sort preferred by middle class bankers and lawyers. He
took one backward glance over his shoulder and with his mind made up,
stepped forward quickly, meeting the two Germans at the statue as
they'd previously arranged. It was all going as planned, even better
than that perhaps, given the fog surrounding their clandestine
meeting.

        "You have the money?" the Russian asked.

        "Here," the German replied softly, opening his coat and
pulling up his sweater. He had a money belt around his waist and the
Velcro gave way with a soft ripping sound when the man pulled it
free.

        "Give it to me," the Russian demanded, glancing over his
shoulder anxiously.

        "Give her the case," the man said. "I'll give you the money."

        The Russian looked at the girl and she could see his face was
damp with sweat. He was flushed, despite the cold, and finally the man
nodded, stepping towards her and stretching out his right arm so she
could take the satchel.

        "Thank you," she said, smiling at the man as he relinquished
his grip.

        Pop - Pop - Pop

        The Russian groaned, very nearly collapsing as three bullets
entered his chest. The German had pressed a small pistol just beneath
the man's right armpit, pulling the trigger quickly and then leaning
into him, shoving the stricken Russian headlong over the rail and into
the swift current below. The splash seemed loud, but only because the
couple was directly above it. The dense fog muffled the sound nearly
completely and no alarm was raised, no shouts for help were given.
There were no witnesses and the body would sink quickly in its heavy
clothing, tumbling through the dark water. When the body was found,
days or even weeks later, the Russian would be miles downstream and
offer no clue to his killers' identity.

        "Hmph." The woman shrugged after examining the contents of the
leather case.

        She didn't bother to close it, but left the buckles unfastened
and tossed it into the river, watching it disappear quickly from
sight. The man had already tossed his weapon into the water and was
fixing the money belt once more around his waist, pulling his sweater
into place and buttoning his coat. They paused only long enough for a
brief, but earnest kiss before walking into the fog with their arms
around each other like so many lovers out for a romantic stroll in
beautiful Prague.

        "What was in the case?" I asked Wolfgang softly and our meal
had been forgotten while the man had spoken.

        "Was it drugs?" Sophia asked, looking pale and shocked by what
she'd just heard. "You lied to me!"

        "No," Eva answered first. "It was not drugs."

        "I haven't lied," Wolfgang told Sophia gently. "Everything is
the truth."

        "In Hawaii, you told me you weren't really criminals. You
stole some diamonds and found work..." Sophia was shaking her head. "Oh
God."

        "That was true," Wolfgang agreed. "But the work we found..."

        "I don't understand," I interrupted him. "You were supposed to
get the case? Buy it? But Eva threw it away?

        "No, the case was unimportant and the money..." Wolfgang
shrugged. "It was an excuse. A trick."

        "The Russian," Eva nodded. "We were paid for him."

        "To kill him?" Sophia reached for her wine, draining her glass
with two large swallows. "You're assassins?"

        "That's..." Wolfgang frowned with a heavy sigh. "You have to
understand that this is very complicated. There's no easy explanation
for what we did."

        "It seems pretty simple to me." Sophia glared at him,
gesturing towards the door with her empty wine glass. "You're fired.
Both of you. Get out."

        "You must hear the rest of the story," Wolfgang said, looking
at me with his brown eyes soft and begging my forgiveness. Eva looked
stricken by Sophia's outburst, not angered by it, but almost
frightened it seemed to me.

        "You're not fired," I said slowly. "But..."

        "Cindy!" Sophia blinked at me and I glanced at her, but kept
myself focused on Wolfgang and Eva.

        "...we have to know everything," I told them. "You can't hold
anything back and after that...I don't know. We'll see."

        "Of course," Wolfgang agreed and Eva was nodding her head. "We
only wished to protect you."

        "We love you!" Eva said, not saying the words so much as
exploding with them.

        She was on the edge of her chair, reaching out to hold my
wrist, squeezing me with her brilliant eyes fixed on mine. There was a
fervor in her gaze that communicated beyond a doubt the truth of what
she'd said. She'd been desperate to say those three words, rushing
them from her lips before anyone could somehow stop her.

        "I know," I whispered, giving the girl a faint smile and she
nodded, releasing the air from her lungs and letting me go. She looked
away, self-conscious and perhaps even embarrassed, and Wolfgang
soothed her with gentle hand to the girl's shoulder.

        We left the restaurant for my cabana suite and I feigned a
light and happy mood, thanking personally our unflappable waiter, the
maitre d'hotel, and even the chef as I went into the kitchen. He was a
real Frenchman, a genuine chef de cuisine, and I begged him not to be
insulted by the cheeseburger I'd ordered. It had been perfect, I
assured him, and the man accepted my apologies and compliments with a
kiss on both cheeks and a wonderful smile. I needed that brief
normalcy, the escape into the Cindy the world expected me to be.

        My body was weary. I hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep on the
sofa that afternoon and the hour was approaching midnight with a 6AM
call for a 9AM shoot in Papeete, the only real city on the island and
the capital of French Polynesia. I'd been looking forward to it, being
able to interact with other, real people for a change. Some of the
other girls hated that sort of thing, but I loved it and Maggie knew
it. After the lonely introspection of my earlier shoot, Papeete would
bring out its opposite and that emotional disparity was what made me
so special, according to Maggie.

        Sitting cross-legged on a large, round Papa-san chair made of
bamboo and cushioned with a huge, silk pillow, I didn't feel special.
I was filled with a nervous curiosity, perhaps even the fear that I
would have to do as Sophia wanted and let Eva and Wolfgang go. They'd
admitted to being murderers which was hardly the sort of company a
person like myself could keep. I was under public scrutiny every time
I stepped out the door and while my own secrets were well buried, my
two Germans could easily prove themselves a liability. That was
Sophia's concern and despite whatever she might have felt towards
them, the girl was devoted to me.

        "You should send them away," Sophia told me. "It's dangerous.
We don't know anything about them."

        "I don't think they're going to hurt us," I said, knowing she
didn't believe they would either.

        "I'm thinking about your life, Cindy." Sophia bit her lip,
glancing at Eva and Wolfgang as they sat together on the sofa. "Your
career. Whatever they've done, if someone finds out..."

        "My career isn't my life," I said, finding a small smile which
made Sophia frown. "I want to hear the rest of the story."

        "It's getting late," she said, being petulant as I was plainly
ignoring her good advice.

        "Sophia is right. You should sleep, Cindy," Wolfgang said. "We
can explain better tomorrow, after you're rested."

        I opened my mouth to protest, but Eva was already standing up.

        "One day more, ja?" she said softly, moving close and putting
her delicate hands on my shoulders. "Goodnight, Cindy."

        Eva kissed me lightly on the mouth and then they were gone,
which was hardly what I wanted. Sophia was at least satisfied with
that, for the moment, and she locked the door behind them. I merely
sat there, touching my lips with my fingertips and feeling slightly
frustrated by the entire evening. I replayed Wolfgang's story in my
head, but without a beginning or end it made little sense and
explained nothing.

        "Come on. Stand-up," Sophia said, rousing me from my thoughts.
"Do you want to take a bath?"

        "Hmmm...No," I decided. "I'll take one in the morning. Sleep
with me tonight, okay?"

        "Only sleep," Sophia told me, pulling at my hands to remove me
from the chair. "No fooling around."

        "I said sleep!" I gave her a small pout and managed to get a
smile in return, Sophia's first in many hours.

        But we didn't sleep, nor did we make love immediately which
was something we might have expected, despite Sophia's emphatic
denial.


    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=


        She'd graduated near the top of her class two years
previously, summa cum laude - with the highest honors - and the future
was bright. There were many lucrative offers to put her business
degree to work, but she applied for a graduate program instead. Not in
business administration, as her father might have hoped, but in public
relations. And not for any real reason, Sophia told her friends and
family, it was just an idea, a hunch, as she liked to put it. Being
only twenty-three and more than a little headstrong, there was little
anyone could do to dissuade the girl.

        She studied hard for two long years and then, one day...

        "Get a Michelob down here, buddy?" a guy asked loudly, leaning
between Sophia and a young man named Vincent who was sitting beside
her at the bar.

        "Hey! You mind?" Vincent gave the newcomer a frown and he'd
tried twice to start a conversation with the petite blonde beside him,
but she'd largely ignored his charming efforts.

        "Whoops!" The guy, the rude one, had bumped Vincent's martini
with his elbow and it fell into the young man's lap, olive, onions,
and all.

        "Son of a bitch!" Vincent fairly leapt from stool, which was
made all the more impressive as he'd been able to catch his glass
before it could shatter on the floor.

        "Sorry, pal," the newcomer, an older man in a dark Brooks
Brothers suit, apologized. "Let me get you another one..."

        "Look at my suit!" Vincent said in a loud, indignant voice.

        "Okay..." The older man shrugged and looked Vincent up and down
slowly. "It's nice. What is that...Silk?"

        "What?" Vincent stared at the other man for a moment before
stalking off towards the men's room, still carrying his empty martini.

        "Get that Michelob any day now?" the guy said to the
bartender, sitting on Vincent's recently vacated stool after a quick
glance to ensure it was dry. "My wife's getting pregnant tonight. I
wanna be there to see it, ya know?"

        "Excuse me?" Sophia blinked at the man, realizing he'd been
speaking to her.

        "My wife," he shrugged. "She loves kids. I dunno. I never
really had the time myself. How about you, Sleeping Beauty?"

        "How about me...What?" Sophia smiled despite herself, finding
the man to be wholly outside any previous experience.

        "Kids? Family? You want a big backyard someday?" the man
wondered. "I'm Paul."

        "I'm..." Sophia looked at the man's hand and shook her head, "...
not interested."

        "Not interesting, you mean." Paul gave her a smile as the
bartender put a bottle of beer and a glass on the bar in front of
him.

        "Uh..." Sophia's small mouth opened and closed for a second as
she tried to think of a reply. She knew she was attractive enough and
she'd had her fair share of come-ons, but never had someone called her
uninteresting.

        "That's because you're still sleeping," Paul said, picking up
his Michelob and taking a swallow.

        "Look. I don't know who you are, but..."

        "A shame really," Paul ignored her protests. "A pretty girl
like you? Smart as hell, ambitious...You didn't even get the prick, but
here you are."

        "Prick?" Sophia's cheeks reddened and she wondered why she
hadn't slapped the guy yet, or at least walked away.

        "Your finger," Paul said, smiling as if the girl should have
known what he was talking about. "Oh! You thought I meant...No! But you
could probably use a good prick about now, huh?"

        "Stop!" Sophia really did blush then, glancing around her
nervously, afraid that everyone in that mid-town bar had heard what
he'd just said.

        "How long has it been..." Paul sighed, leaning his head close to
hers and lowering his voice. "Three years? Closer to four, I bet. I'm
never wrong, Sophia."

        "Bastard!" she breathed, determined finally to leave, but then
her bright green eyes widened. "How do you know my name?"

        "Are you ready to wake up, Princess?" Paul asked her gently.

        "Who are you?" The girl felt her heart beating quickly now and
her voice quailed with...not fear...just...confusion. Nobody had ever spoken
to her this way before and she didn't understand any of it. The world
didn't work this way.

        "A friend of a friend," Paul shrugged, tilting his bottle and
looking at the girl from the corner of his eyes.

        "I have to go," Sophia blinked quickly, licking her lips and
gathering her purse.

        "Wait..." Paul whispered and when Sophia turned her head to look
at him, the man kissed her on the lips.

        "He kissed you?" I asked with a soft giggle and Sophia nodded
in the dark, cradled in my arms while we spoke.

        "I was shocked. I was mad. I was scared." Sophia laughed
lightly. "I mean, God. He was cute, sorta, but old too and he just...
kissed me."

        "Yeah," I sighed, remembering the first kiss Paul had given
me.

        "The next morning he..."

        "Wait wait wait..." I laughed, putting my fingers over Sophia's
mouth. "The next morning?"

        "Uh...yeah," she said with a nervous giggle. "We sorta went to
his hotel room."

        "Sorta?" I was sitting up, staring down at the girl in the dim
light.

        "Well, okay. Yeah. But he kissed me!"

        "I got that part. And you went to his room? All night?" I
laughed. "That must have been some kiss!"

        "You have no idea," Sophia sighed, smiling as I lay back down
beside her. "Talk about waking up! I still had no idea what he was
talking about, but it was like somebody threw a switch..."

        Paul's tongue slipped easily into Sophia's small mouth and
despite her anxious confusion, the woman accepted and even welcomed
the intrusion. It had been a long a time since any man had touched her
this way, not for lack of trying, but Sophia had never felt herself
interested in romance or even sex. There just wasn't time for all the
complications, or so she'd spent much of her adult life telling
herself.

        Now this stranger, this man who was old enough to be her
father, was working his tongue against hers, the tip exploring the
roof of her mouth, the soft hollows of her cheeks. He tasted of beer
and cigarettes, slightly bitter and alien to her delicate senses, and
yet she couldn't loose the man from between her lips. Sophia's eyes
were shut and without realizing it, she'd leaned into him, nearly
falling off her barstool and onto Paul's lap in her efforts to get
closer.

        The girl's hands were on Paul's thighs, sliding higher as she
moaned into his lungs. He was drinking the soft noises of pleasure
issuing from deep within her belly. She was aware of his hands moving
from her shoulders down, sliding between them to cup Sophia's small
breasts through her blouse and bra. She gasped at the sudden pressure,
forcing her tongue past Paul's and into his mouth, arching her back to
feel more of the man against her throbbing tits. Her hands, both of
them, found the bulge hidden beneath Paul's expensive suit and she
squeezed his cock, tugging at the man as if she could somehow free him
that way. Her mind was awash with desire, her sex burning between her
spread thighs and the girl had never felt so alive in her life.

        "Alright, Come on, kids..." The bartender was rapping on the
bar. "Break it up or I'm gonna have to start charging a cover here."

        "Wha..." Sophia jerked, sitting upright and blinking rapidly.
Her face was red and she fought to catch her breath, smoothing her
blouse and pinching at her bra beneath it. Her left breast was
exposed, the pink nipple plainly hard and visible through the thin
cotton. Her skirt had ridden high along her thighs, enough so that the
tops of her stockings were exposed and she burned with embarrassment,
struggling to fix everything all at once.

        "No tip for you, buddy," Paul said, dropping five dollars on
the bar and taking Sophia's hand. "Are you ready, Princess?"

        "I don't...Uh...Where?"

        "Upstairs," Paul smiled at the blonde's confusion. "I have a
room. You know, in case of emergencies."

        "Emergencies?" Sophia giggled, feeling giddy and almost drunk.
She didn't understand why she was letting Paul guide her out of the
hotel bar and into the lobby of the Mid-Town Marriott.

        People were watching them, she knew that. The men in the bar,
dozens of executives and lawyers, the table full of women, secretaries
probably, they'd all witnessed what had happened. It frightened and
humiliated Sophia beyond words, but at the same time the new
experience was thrilling in a perverse way. She couldn't deny the
warmth inside her, an unexpected passion that being taken by a man
without her consent had somehow aroused. It had only been a kiss,
true, but the moment was lingering. It wasn't over. She hadn't run
away and Paul hadn't released her. This was merely a different
continuation, walking hand in hand towards the elevators, parading
past people who would know Sophia wasn't the man's wife. She was going
to his room. They were going to have sex.

        The elevator was crowded with three other men and two women
who had been waiting for it. Paul and Sophia pressed themselves
inside, standing in the center with the burnished doors closing. When
Paul reached behind Sophia to push the button for the fourteenth
floor, his arm stayed there, his hand finding the diminutive girl's
ass through her skirt and he didn't pretend otherwise. Sophia stood
still as a statue, holding her breath and trying to ignore the patient
looks and smiles people share on long, slow elevator rides. She could
sense more than see the other passengers standing to her left and
right and behind, and she felt herself to be the unwilling focus of
their attention.

        "Umph!" Sophia grunted softly as Paul's thick middle finger
found her anus, pushing inside the girl's dry, virgin ass. Not
painfully, but with a rude discomfort that put her on the toes of her
shoes for a second before she could find a way to relax against the
pressure. Her eyelids fluttered and her body stiffened against the
intrusion, and to her left a man, old like Sophia's grandfather, gave
her a paternal smile. That look, as much as anything else, forced the
girl to endure Paul's insistent probing.

        "Hi," Sophia breathed, forcing a weak smile in return. She was
barely able to get the word out at all as Paul wriggled his finger in
the luxurious confines of her clasping rectum. The girl's muscles
spasmed with protest, inviting him deeper with a pleasant, suckling
sensation what made her tremble with newfound pleasure.

        He caressed her the way a boy would finger his first
girlfriend in the backseat of his car, masturbating Sophia's asshole
with his digit buried as far inside her as Paul could get it. He
curled it upward, stretching the sensitive walls of her ass and
teasing her as he'd wiggle the tip rapidly, sending shivers along the
girl's spine and turning her legs to rubber. Sophia had never felt
anything like it and ass play had always been beyond her imagination.
It was a dirty thing, perverted and crude, and no self-respecting girl
would ever let a man touch her there.

        And yet her cunt was dripping with the raw joy of Paul's
perverse attentions. She could smell it, her arousal filling the small
room in which they were trapped. Surely, Sophia thought, everyone else
could smell her as well. They would know that sharp scent, understand
what the musk on their tongues was telling them. She burned with
humiliation and dropped her eyes and then her head, letting her golden
hair fall over her face like an ostrich in the sand. Her hands shook
at her sides, the fingers clenching with nervous energy seeking
physical release. Her knees faltered and the pressure in her asshole
was suddenly more pronounced as Paul's hand and penetrating finger
took some of her weight before Sophia could steady herself with a low
groan.

        None of the other passengers had gotten off the elevator and
it was plain they were riding to the top, to the restaurant up there.
Sophia didn't protest when the doors opened on the fourteenth floor
and Paul pushed her out of the elevator with is finger still in her
ass. Her skirt was lifted, of course, riding his arm in the back, and
Sophia's small pink panties were clearly pushed aside as Paul gripped
her pert bottom with his palm and remaining fingers. A man coughed and
an old woman gasped, someone whispered and a chuckle escaped the
elevator before the doors mercifully closed once more.

        Inside room 1414 Sophia was immediately bent over the desk,
scattering complimentary pens and stationary. A lamp fell to the floor
with a dull thud as Paul shoved the woman forward, pulling Sophia's
feet off the floor as she found herself sprawled headlong and eager
with her legs spread. Sophia's body twisted, the girl's shoulder and
head pressing against the cold mirror mounted on the wall. She grabbed
the edges of the desk, nodding and gasping, begging for the man to
fuck her. She was burning up inside, thinking about the elevator and
the people inside it now knowing what had been happening in their
midst. If they ever saw her again, they'd remember and smirk and point
Sophia out to their friends. She was the slut on the elevator, they'd
say, the one I was telling you about.

        "Fuck me! Hurry! Ahhh...Oh! Ughh!" Sophia gasped, lifting her
head and wincing as Paul's long, thick cock replaced his finger,
driving into her barely prepared asshole with a sharp thrust of his
hips. The smooth head of his penis squeezed past her sphincter easily
and he paused, taking the young woman by her narrow hips. She was
still clothed, they both were, and now Paul was pushing himself
forward, holding Sophia in place as his meaty cock stretched her
asshole around him.

        "N-Not...Nnnnugh! No! Fuck! My...Ass! Ohhh!" Sophia hadn't been
expecting him to fuck her in the ass and in her lust-filled confusion
she hadn't realized immediately his intentions. She bared her teeth at
the dull, burning sensation but the pain wasn't entirely unpleasant.
Some part of her, newly awakened and burning with obscene urgency,
welcomed the blunt pressure. Sophia wanted him inside her, that was
undeniable, and the man was pushing slowly enough to make it good,
almost tenderly it seemed, until she was begging him to give it to her
hard.

        "All of it! Fuck...Me! Fuck it in me! Ohhh! You fucker! Fuck my
ass!" Sophia nearly screamed the words, glaring at Paul over her
shoulder as he smiled at her, both of them now red faced and damp with
sweat.

        "Waking up now...Ugh!" Paul grunted, tightening his grip on
Sophia's hips and stabbing his cock several inches deeper all at once.
The dull ache became a sharp cramp for a long second and Sophia's
asshole was wrapped so tightly around the man that she could feel her
pulse racing beneath her straining muscles.

        "Ahhh! Owwww! Yeah!" Sophia tried to lift her ass to meet him,
pushing herself back against the wicked joy of being butt fucked for
the first time in her young life. She wanted more of him. All of him.
She was begging for it with every breath she took.

        Her feet came up high and Sophia was trying to wrap her legs
around the man as she lay on her stomach. She kicked at him with her
heels, bouncing her hips off the hard wood of the desk and groaning
with the effort of taking Paul's large cock deep in her tender bowels.
They were fucking now. Sophia's asshole was relaxed and eager,
lubricated with the copious flow of the man's precum as pushed every
inch of his penis inside her flushed body. His heavy balls found her
her vulnerable sex with a wet slapping sound as he began to fuck her
in earnest, riding her asshole as if it were a cunt for his pleasure.

        "Ummm hmmm ohhh..." Sophia could do little more than moan
breathlessly as her mind and body surrendered completely to her first
orgasm. She hadn't even touched her pussy and she was cumming hard,
the sensation of Paul's cock sliding in and out of her ass was
explicit and welcome to her burning sex. She could feel him distinctly
through the thin layers of flesh that separated her two holes and it
had brought her off completely.

        "Ah Princess...Here...Ummm..." Paul groaned with the pleasure of his
own deep orgasm.

        He pressed his cock as far inside the girl as he could get it,
collapsing on top of her while his violent ejaculate filled her bowels
with a distinctly soothing warmth. Sophia welcomed his kiss, her mouth
already open as she drank cool air into her laboring lungs, and now
she nursed on his tongue with an urgency bordering on desperation. She
lifted her left arm, reaching back to hold Paul's mouth to hers,
filling him with deep throated moans of unsated lust. They kissed
until the man's cock began to soften and the weary muscles in Sophia's
ass reasserted themselves, forcing the man's penis to slowly withdraw
with a weak trickle of dirty sperm.

        "Good foreplay..." Sophia breathed as Paul pushed himself up and
he chuckled at that.

        "Are you ready for some real sex now?" he wondered, perhaps
teasing the disheveled blonde, perhaps not.

        "Oh yeah," Sophia agreed seriously, biting her bottom lip and
fixing her emerald stare on the man's face. "I'm ready for anything."

        I smiled into Sophia's eyes, sharing her breath as our lips
touched with every word she uttered. "What did you do?" I asked her,
punctuating my question with a hard grind of my cock inside her tight
pussy. We'd been fucking while she spoke, it had become...inevitable.

        "Everything," Sophia replied with a soft gasp, tightening her
legs around my waist. "He fucked me all night and when I woke up, he
was gone."

        "You never saw him again?" I wondered, enjoying the way my
tits hung heavily against hers, our nipples rubbing against each other
as we moved.

        "No. I looked but...Ahhh..." she gasped, arching her back. "I
found you instead."

        The girl was close to cumming, I could tell. She was digging
her fingers into my shoulders, wanting me harder and deeper and for
just that moment I wished that I had Paul's magnificent prick jutting
between my female thighs. Sophia wasn't complaining though, she was
riding my girlish cock eagerly, finding all the pleasure she could
wish for as it split her pink folds. She was unbelievably warm inside,
and moist, the wetness spilled around me and the bed was already
soaked and reeking of her beautiful sex. Sophia loved to fuck, at
least as much as I did, and trying to imagine her celibate, almost
virginal for all those years was nearly impossible.

        "Sleeping Beauty..." I smiled at her pretty face, now twisted
with pleasure as I worked my cock inside the girl quickly, driving
into her with my hips as rapidly as I could.

        I was lifting myself, changing the angle as I tried to find
Sophia's hard little clit with the shaft and bring her off good. I
knew what she liked; we'd done this so many times over the last year.
I was going to make it nice for the girl and a moment later Sophia was
there, writhing beneath me as her orgasm peaked. I covered her mouth
with mine, sharing the moment and that always brought me off as well.
Kissing Sophia while she came was magical, tasting the joy in her
mouth and smelling her sweet breath as it filled my lungs. I filled
her with my cum, erupting inside her quivering cunt with a muffled
gasp, and for those few precious minutes we were joined completely and
inseparable.

        "I love you," Sophia whispered, holding me as I lay atop her
trembling form. My face was in her hair and I knew she was waiting for
my reply, but it was one thing I couldn't give her. Not yet.




    End of Cinderella2 02
    To Be Continued
    TS.Severe@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+