A Terrible Mistake, Part 1 | |
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This fictional account contains adult language and sexual themes. If such language and themes offend you, please do not read further. The persons and events described in this work are purely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons or events is strictly coincidental. Copyright 2005 by SSTORYMAN. All rights reserved. Permission is hereby granted to reproduce this story in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person reproducing or using it. A TERRIBLE MISTAKE Author's Note: This story contains descriptions of incest, which some persons will find offensive. Please do not read if you are offended by such unorthodox and offensive sexual material. 1. Changing Jennifer. Business was booming. But the latest request that Vincent Martinelli got from a new customer was unusual. Not that he cared. He never argued with clients about their requests. He was still mad at Johns Hopkins for refusing to grant him his doctorate. His research on personality and behavioral changes was revolutionary. They admitted it. But the assholes on the committee turned him down anyway. Too controversial, they said, too dangerous. Damn bureaucrats! Well, he showed `em. He left the university to set up his own consulting business to further his research. In the process he stumbled upon a way to fund it. It turned out there's a big market for the services he could provide. Lots of people will pay anything to change the personality and behavior of their loved ones. New Directions. It's what he called his consulting practice, a benign name for a truly revolutionary technology. At first he worried that seventy-five thousand dollars a treatment was too steep. He needn't have worried. Once he did a few successful treatments, referrals from satisfied customers provided a regular stream of new patients and new funds. But this latest one was certainly a first. Well, didn't matter. He could do it, although he wasn't happy about it. He picked up the phone to call Tim. It was the only part Vincent didn't care for. He didn't like hiring a kidnapper. His lawyer drew up an iron-clad indemnity for his customers to sign. Regardless of what happened, he wasn't worried. Once he treated the patients, they never complained. They were always delighted with their new personalities. But he still didn't like kidnapping people. It was unpleasant. Most of his customers were rich parents unhappy with a son or daughter. They were willing to pay anything to re-orient the rebellious kids, to get them off drugs or out of some insane lifestyle. He also got religious de-programming jobs, parents of kids involved in religious cults. But most customers usually just wanted a kid to go back to college, straighten up or get rid of some destructive behavior. So far, every one was successful. His treatment worked perfectly. Kidnapping the kids was the only tricky part. But once he finally got hold of the kid, he made `em into new people with a whole new outlook. That outlook was whatever Mom and Dad wanted and were willing to pay for. "Tim? Hi, it's Vincent. Yeah, I got another one. This one's a young woman. Should be real easy. She lives alone. Name's Jennifer Stott. Yeah, in an apartment. She just moved in the building. I'll get the address. Hang on." He read it off the application. "Yeah, our client's a husband whose wife left him. I guess his dad's a billionaire. Name's George Stott. Didn't blink when I told him the fee. His bank wired seventy-five grand and I got it this morning. You'll get a kick out of this. It's weird. He doesn't want us to make Jennifer quit doing any destructive, negative shit like the others. No, just the opposite. I guess Jennifer left him because she decided he's too wild. Yeah, seems she freaked out when she realized what kinky shit he's into." Vincent laughed nervously. "George doesn't want his wife telling his dad. So he wants me to fix his wife's conservatism. He wants her just as depraved as he is. Weird, huh? Okay, listen. I can do it Wednesday. Grab Jennifer and make sure she's here at nine. I can have her done by mid-afternoon, but Suzanne can take her back when she's done. You only need to do the pick up in the morning. Then the poor girl will be ready to run home for dinner and some kinky sex with her pervert husband. Great. Thanks. Yeah, don't worry. I sent your fee. Sure. Bye." Vincent hung up. Never before had he made anyone depraved. Till now it was always the opposite. He turned bad boys and girls into good ones. But there was no reason it shouldn't work the other way. He frowned imagining the outcome. The thought of a lovely, traditional old-fashioned girl like Jennifer Stott turning into a depraved sexual libertine was depressing. He didn't like it. But he needed the money to continue his research. He sighed. What the hell, he'd do it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tim Wilson stood outside the apartment building. It was definitely a high class place. No surprise, though. This lady's husband was loaded. He frowned looking at the directory by the front door. What the hell was her name? He looked at the note he scribbled and compared it to the list on the wall. Ah, here we go, he smiled. Scott, Jennifer. Apartment 2G. Must be her. Vincent considered this difficult and dangerous, but Tim knew better. He'd done many things that were far more hazardous. Kidnapping unsuspecting kids and delivering them to Vincent's clinic was a piece of cake, especially since Vincent made sure the kids didn't complain. It was part of the treatment Vincent's clients paid for. Once Vincent changed their personalities to mirror whatever Mommy and Daddy wanted, the kids were always happy about it. So there was never anyone to complain and no way for him to get in trouble with the law. All Tim had to do was deliver the goods. And that, he could do. Usually the easiest approach was best. He decided to try it with Jennifer Scott. Dressed in a policeman's uniform, he rang the bell for Apartment 2G and glanced at his watch. It was seven thirty in the morning. Poor unsuspecting Jennifer was probably still home. He sighed. If he'd miscalculated and she already left, Vincent would be furious. "Yes?" Tim grinned. Bingo! "Ms. Scott?" he said in a deep voice. "This is Officer Johnson with the county sheriff's office. I'm afraid I need a moment of your time right now. May I come up?" "What? Why?" "I'm afraid there's been an accident. I need to talk to you right away. Please?" "Who? Who had an accident?" "I'm afraid I can't tell you unless I see you in person. Can I come up?" "Um, okay." The female voice on the intercom was confused and concerned. He smiled to himself. Victims were too worried to think straight whenever he said he was a police officer with news of an accident. The buzzer buzzed. He opened the door and laughed. It was just too easy. Moments later he stood in front of Apartment 2G. He knocked. The door opened. She was only half-dressed. Clearly he interrupted her as she was getting ready to go somewhere. Her shirt wasn't buttoned up and it was untucked. She had no shoes on her feet. "Yes?" Her face shone with fear. "I'm Officer Johnson," Tim repeated. "May I come in?" She looked at his uniform. She hesitated. "Yeah, okay." He walked assertively into her apartment and looked around. It didn't look like she just moved in. But whatever. "You may want to sit down, Ms. Scott," he said with a compassionate smile. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news." Jennifer's hands were trembling. Her face was white as a sheet. "Why? What is it?" "Let me show you the official paperwork. Then you'll see why I had to speak with you." He handed her an unaddressed envelope. She looked down and began to open it. She never saw Tim reach into his pocket and get out a small tube. She tore the envelope and pulled out a blank piece of paper. "What's the bad news -?" she started to ask. It was too late. Tim squirted the gas directly into her face. She groaned and immediately fell lifeless to the floor. "Honey, I'm sorry," he laughed. "The bad news is I'm kidnapping you. Your hubby's paying big bucks to get you totally fucked up with some nasty new ideas. Don't worry, though. By the time you wake up I guess you won't give a damn. In fact, you'll be delighted as hell!" Tim went into Jennifer's bedroom to search for her shoes. After putting them on her feet, he began to button up her shirt. Then he stopped. Aw, what the hell? Why not? He reversed field and unbuttoned it all the way. He took off her shirt and then her bra. "God, nice tits, Jen," he leered wickedly, massaging her exposed breasts in his hands. "Yeah, so nice and big and round. Shit, girl, your husband's one lucky son-of-a-bitch!" He let out a big sigh. "Well, Jen, it's time for you and me to go. Vincent's got a treat for you, honey. Most kids we do this to end up being all goody-goody. But from what Vincent said, you're gonna get a transformation that's totally different. For some reason your perverted hubby wants to turn you into a slut." He looked at her unconscious body. God, she _was_ a good looking chick! "Look, Jen, if you do turn into a slut, call me," he laughed. "I wouldn't mind fucking you anytime!" Removing unconscious victims was the trickiest part. Well-meaning neighbors easily caused problems if they saw him carrying a lifeless body to his car. But he was prepared. He opened his bag and took out another uniform. This time he dressed as an EMT. After putting the police officer's uniform inside, he picked up Jennifer's lifeless body and boldly carried it into the hallway. No one there. He smiled. Too, too easy. As he walked down the front steps of the apartment building another woman was coming towards them. She was a nice looking blond in her mid twenties. "Jennifer Scott had a seizure," he said to her with an intentionally officious tone. "Thank God she called 911 before she passed out! Don't worry, she'll be fine. Probably be back home this afternoon." The blond watched with her mouth wide-open as Tim put the unconscious body in the passenger seat of his car. On the side a sign proclaimed, "University Hospital EMT." The watching girl nodded as Tim hastily got in. She'll never remember what I look like, he assured himself. Even if she does, no one will complain. By the time she sees Jennifer again, if she even knows her, Jennifer will confirm that she had to unexpectedly go in for treatment. He pulled away from the apartment building into traffic. In ten minutes he'd be at Vincent's New Directions clinic. Easy. Too, too easy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Vincent wore his white coat as he inspected the lifeless female on his examining table. He didn't know why he wore the white coat. Nobody except Suzanne, his nurse assistant, ever saw him working, and Suzanne didn't care if he looked professional. She was paid too much to complain about any lack of professionalism. When he started New Directions he needed a nurse assistant to help administer the drugs. It took awhile to find a nurse with no medical scruples whatsoever. But Suzanne proved to be perfect. Almost totally unprincipled, his lovely nurse was glad to collect sixty grand a year and keep her mouth shut while working a nine to five job with little or no stress. She knew they were modifying the thinking of unwilling victims. But Suzanne didn't give a damn. The money was good; what the hell did she care? She was far more callous than he was. Her lack of morality was why she was a perfect nurse assistant. Suzanne walked in and coldly perused the situation. She had on a pair of well-worn jeans and a tight tank-top. She looked slightly hung over. "So, is this today's victim?" Vincent nodded and smiled. "Yep, name's Jennifer Stott. Pretty girl, don't you think?" Suzanne circled the table with a detached air. "Yeah, cute little bitch." She let out a sigh. "So, we're sending another girl home to mommy and daddy with all the delicious badness sucked out of her, back home to a perpetually boring existence of tea and cookies?" "No. Not this time. This one's different. You'll like this one. Take a look." He gave Suzanne the file. "Check out what Jennifer's husband wants done to her." Suzanne smirked and shook her head. "Oh my God! This is too funny! He wants the bitch to _become_ a bad girl instead of being such a good one. Fuck, what a riot!" Vincent flashed a cynical smile. His nurse assistant normally sympathized with their victims more than with the customers who wanted them changed. Suzanne was no saint. She often said she specialized in `badness,' as she called it, and complained about them reforming their other victims. It was why she did her job so well. Ethics were not Suzanne's forte. She continued to read the customer's requests. "Shit, this poor girl's gonna wind up as bad as me," she giggled, turning the page. "God, he wants his pretty little holier-than-thou wife turned into a real bitch." She kept reading. "Hey, he wants poor Jennifer to smoke more, to be a heavy smoker, a nicotine addict. His exact words. Plus, he wants her to drink like a fish and live a promiscuous lifestyle. God, it's great. Today for a change we create a sexy little slut instead of that usual goody-goody shit." She closed the file to hand it back to Vincent. "Now we're getting somewhere," she grinned callously. "Yeah, this's gonna be fun!" "I thought you'd like it, Suzanne. It's more, how shall I say this? More your style?" "Yep, especially the smoking part," Suzanne laughed. "I just had a cigarette out back, Vince. Hey, maybe when Jennifer wakes up I can share a drink and a cigarette with her." He shook his head. "Jennifer will wake up in her apartment with you, Suzanne, just like they all do," he said dryly. "Don't get any ideas. I know your sexual proclivities. I'm glad to see your enthusiasm, though. It's a welcome change from your usual cynicism." "C'mon, Vince, you love working with me," she teased. "But yeah, I could really get into this," she laughed. "It's a hell of a lot more fun than neutering prodigal sons and daughters and sending them home to disappointed mommies and daddies." She returned from the cabinet on the wall preparing a syringe. "Shall I begin the transformation?" Vincent nodded. "Be my guest." "Jennifer, you'll love the new you," Suzanne smirked, injecting Vincent's specialized drugs into her arm. "Hey, Vince, can I do the talking part? I mean, the part where we repeat to her over and over her new priorities and values? I'd love to help corrupt little Jenny." He sighed. "Yeah, sure. If it'll make you happy, Suzanne. One of us has to do it." She picked up the file to re-read it. "God, yeah!" She smirked at the sleeping beauty on the examination table. "Jennifer Stott, first the drugs soften you up. Then my voice will change everything you ever thought was important. When you eventually wake up, I guarantee you. The first person you see? You'll beg them for a cigarette, a stiff drink and a good fuck!" Vincent knew Suzanne was enjoying herself. She was right. George Stott wanted his lovely, innocent young wife to change into a promiscuous, pleasure-seeking slut who drank like he did and smoked heavily. He could accommodate that. Ordinarily he had no misgivings about changing people's personalities and behaviors. But this was different. This was the first time they would make anyone more depraved instead of less so. Well, it was just an anomaly. After all, how often could such a bizarre request come in the door? Meanwhile Suzanne was busy chirping at the quiescent figure on the table, telling her of the parties she'd go to and how she'd enjoy herself. Trouble was, Suzanne was right. Once they finished with Jennifer Stott, her old conservative way of life would never again satisfy her. She'd be exactly what they were asked to make her; a promiscuous, degenerate, sexy little slut! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jennifer awoke with a splitting headache. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in her bed in her apartment. She tried to remember. What the hell happened to her? Gradually she recalled. Yeah, a policeman came to her door to ask about an accident. While he was there she had some kind of seizure, and he offered to take her to a doctor. Yeah, that was it. She remembered. The doctor gave her medicine and reassured her it was a one-time thing. She'd be fine. Then someone drove her home. Yeah, the doctor's nurse, Suzanne, dropped her off. She let out a sigh. Yeah, that Suzanne girl made quite an impression. God, she was a sexy little thing with big beautiful tits and a truly fantastic ass! Jennifer didn't know she was thinking differently. Describing the nurse that way seemed totally natural. As she continued to regain consciousness, she was also aware of the importance of the name "George." For some reason she had to find him, whoever he was, and fuck him. She rubbed her head. It hurt. Shit, it hurt like hell. But suddenly she knew what she needed. She needed a drink! Sitting up, she stumbled into her kitchen. Happily, there was a fresh bottle of Scotch on the counter. Thank God! She opened it, poured herself a glass and gulped it down. Yeah, that was more like it! Pouring another she returned to her bedroom to think. The day was still a blur, but she knew that she talked with that gorgeous nurse while she drove her home. Somehow her words sounded so reassuring, so comforting. Suzanne had said everything was okay. She also remembered Suzanne smoked in the car. It didn't bother her at all. That was odd. Thoughtfully she sipped her scotch. God, in truth the pretty nurse's cigarette had smelled good. In fact, it was positively divine! "God, I think I want a cigarette," she heard herself say. It was crazy. "I don't smoke. Do I?" Suddenly Jennifer wasn't sure. She stared at the glass in her hand. Abruptly she began to giggle uncontrollably. But hell, she wasn't a drinker, either! She was only 19 and she'd never had anything alcoholic. None of her friends at church drank. She never had either. But to her amazement it didn't matter, not anymore. All of a sudden all she wanted was to continue nursing that delicious glass of scotch. "And have a cigarette," she heard herself proclaim confidently. "God, I need to smoke." She got off her bed and wandered into the living room of her apartment. She felt so odd. She wasn't sure why. But it felt good. Real good! She sipped her scotch. Why _didn't_ she used to do this? Why in hell hadn't she done it all the fuckin' time, enjoying the sweet buzz that comes from drinking alcohol? With a last gulp she downed the rest of the glass. Then she saw it, a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights 100's on the table. Beside it sat a disposable lighter and an ashtray. She knew she didn't put them there. Then she remembered. Suzanne did. Suzanne left them for her. The nurse said she might need them, that same pretty nurse who smoked in her presence. She laughed. Suzanne was a nurse! A nurse who smokes? Somehow it seemed riotously humorous. But she knew it was one reason why she felt so comfortable with Suzanne. It was because Suzanne smoked. She trusted smokers. It was because she herself was one of them. "Shit, I don't understand," she said with a wicked smile on her lips. Thing was, didn't matter. Not now. There was no denying that her thinking had changed. She wanted things she never wanted before. Her talk was changing, too. She was using words that in the old days she died a thousand deaths before saying, like `fuck' and "shit" and using the Lord's name in vain. But it all felt good. It felt great drinking scotch, and for some reason she also liked hearing herself swear. It felt totally natural, right. She knew she'd love lighting up a cigarette and smoking it, too. "Like Suzanne," she whispered dreamily. "Just like that gorgeous nurse. God damn, she was such a yummy, sweet little bitch!" She never felt that way about a girl before. But she felt sexually attracted to Suzanne, just like she was undeniably spellbound by the cigarettes on the table. She was about to reach for the cigarettes when she heard a knock. She jumped. "Shit!" A second knock on the door followed, this one even more urgent. "Hang on, I'm coming." She crossly put down her empty glass and opened the door. In the hall stood an attractive blond in her mid-twenties. Jennifer smiled. Before she knew what she was doing it turned into a leer. The girl was gorgeous! "Yeah?" "Hi, I'm your neighbor Jennifer from across the hall. Can I come in?" "Sure." She opened the door and stepped aside, letting her lovely visitor enter. "What can I do for you?" The girl seemed nervous. She was quite tall, with long blond hair and a very shapely body. Though dressed casually, clearly her clothes were high end. "Hi, like I said, I'm Jennifer. I saw the EMT carry you out early this morning. You were totally out of it." She seemed jumpy. "He said you had some kind of seizure. I wanted to see if you're okay." "Oh my God! I'm Jennifer, too. Nice to meet you. I'm Jennifer Scott." It was the other girl's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I know. I saw your name on the directory on the front door. My name's still not up there. I only moved in three weeks ago. I've talked to the manager about getting my name on the mail box." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Jennifer Stott." "Wow, our names are almost the same," the younger Jennifer giggled. "Scott vs. Stott. It's too funny. Once your name's up on the directory, I bet we start getting each other's mail." She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking. The doctor says it's nothing. He says I'll be just fine, even though I'm still a little confused about what happened." "Uh, that's good," the older Jennifer mumbled, preoccupied. She gave a furtive glance out the window. She saw her hostess notice. "Actually, that's not the only reason I came by," she admitted. "See, my husband and I are separated. I moved out three weeks ago and told him I never want to see him again. All of a sudden he shows up here at my apartment building. I just happened to notice his car drive up. I kinda freaked. I didn't know what to do. On impulse I decided to dash across the hall, partly to see how you are, but figuring I could hide in your apartment till my husband gives up and goes home. I hope you don't mind?" "Mind? No, course I don't," Jennifer smiled. "Feel free to hide out here with me. Look, to keep things straight, why don't I call you Jennifer and you call me Jen? I feel like I need a new name anyway. It's a long story."" The blond smiled. "Okay, -. Jen." She giggled and turned to look out the window. "Oh, there he goes. I guess George gave up pounding on my door. Thanks goodness. I'm still mad at him." She blushed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to draw you into my problems." "Don't worry," Jen said. "His name is George?" "My husband? Yeah. Why?" "I dunno," Jen sighed. "When I woke up this afternoon I felt I'm supposed to go find somebody named George. Actually, I'm `spposed to fuck him." The words escaped her lips before she could stop herself. The older woman gasped. "What?" "God, I dunno why I said that. It just came out," Jen explained sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I've just felt so fuckin' weird since I got home. It's like someone else is living inside me or some shit like that." Without realizing it she reached for the cigarettes sitting on the table. "Oh my," Jennifer gasped. "You smoke?" "Yeah, sorta," brunette Jen nodded. She hesitated. "But I don't have to, I guess." She wasn't sure she even knew how. But she couldn't tell her new friend. "Don't worry. It's just funny," Jennifer went on with a wry smile. "But you smoke Marlboro Menthol Lights 100's. See, it's my old brand." Jen brightened. "So you smoke?" "Used to," she corrected. "George smokes. After we got married he kept after me. He insisted I try it. So I did. I wound up smoking for about two years, till -. Till I finally left the bastard. I quit smoking when I left him three weeks ago." Jen felt intrigued, intrigued and pleased to learn her new friend was a smoker. For some reason, Jen didn't want her blond friend to quit. "Oh my God, Jennifer. But don't you miss it?" "Yeah, sorta, I guess," the blond admitted. "Except smoking reminds me of George. I don't need that. But you go ahead, Jen. Have a cigarette if you want. I don't mind." "Only if you have one with me," Jen giggled. "Come on, Jennifer. It'll be fun. I'd rather smoke with you than smoke alone." The older girl hesitated. "Okay, but just one." Gleefully brunette Jen gave a cigarette to her new blond friend. Jennifer graciously accepted it and waited for the other girl to light her up. Jen clicked her lighter and did exactly that. She watched the blond girl take a long pull on her smoldering cigarette. "Ah, thanks," Jennifer sighed happily. "Tastes good. It's a nasty habit and I know I should quit. But I did sort of grow to like it." "Me, too," Jen giggled. Eagerly she mimicked her friend's movements. She lit up a cigarette for herself and released an uninhaled cloud of smoke. "Yeah, I like it." Her uninitiated body wasn't prepared for it, but her transformed mind had been carefully prepared by Vincent to respond positively to the experience of ingesting nicotine. Jennifer Scott's overhauled psyche more than made up for her body's unfamiliarity with the phenomenon. Blond Jennifer took another hit on her mentholated cigarette. She pulled smoke deep into her chest. Clearly she enjoyed it. But she noticed the inexperienced smoking technique of her younger companion. "Good for you, Jen. You don't inhale. Gosh, I never should've started inhaling the smoke. George was the one who made me try it. It's the one sure thing that gets you hooked before you know what happened." "No, I do inhale," Jen protested. She raised her cigarette to her lips. This time she carefully emulated the other girl's smoking style. Jen dragged longer and harder and then breathed smoke deep into her chest. The physical sensation hit her like a punch in the chest. But she never flinched. Instead her revamped psyche made her feel good about the sensation. She opened her mouth and released a flood of thick smoke. "See?" she proclaimed. "I told you I inhale." "Yeah, I guess you do," the blond said with a poignant acquiescent nod. "I shouldn't be doing this, you know," she went on, guiltily looking at her cigarette, clarifying what she meant. "I don't know why I let you talk me into it." "But Jennifer, smoking's great," the brunette heard herself affirm. "I'm gonna smoke all the time now. I absolutely love it!" She tapped an ash in the ashtray on the table. "If your husband's the one who made you smoke, he can't be all bad." The older girl opened her mouth to release a luxurious exhale. Jen's crotch grew damp scrutinizing the feathery smoky wisps that flowed from her lovely friend's full lips. Seeing her companion smoke was turning her on! But of course it did. Smoking's incredibly sexy. All girls who smoke are sexy. And I smoke, she assured herself. And I'm sexy! Jen hit hard on her cigarette and inhaled as deep as possible. Without Vincent's reorientation, she would've choked. But it didn't faze her. She only felt a release of extreme sexual pleasure and gratification. It felt totally unprecedented. God, she liked it. Yes, she _liked_ being a smoker, and she especially liked smoking with beautiful Jennifer. Why hadn't she ever realized how she felt about smoking and about gorgeous women? "Jen, are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine," Jen groaned. "God, it just feels _so_ fuckin' good to smoke with you. Don't you think so, Jennifer? Truly? Isn't it heavenly?" Jennifer laughed. "Well, it is sort of nice after not smoking at all the last few weeks," she admitted. "But it's a terrible habit, Jen. It's so bad for us." "Oh no, it's _good_ for us," Jen answered dreamily. "It's _so_ good. Shit, I can't believe I haven't been doing this for years and years. It's kinda like drinking." She looked at her empty glass. "You want a drink with me?" Jennifer abruptly crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, but not till she'd taken one last monstrous drag and inhaled more of that delicious mentholated smoke deep inside her body. "No, I really should go," she said guiltily. "Listen, thanks for letting me hide from George." Jen was sorry, but she could tell there was no way Jennifer was going to stay with her. "Hey, no problem. Let's get together again soon. Okay?" "Okay," Jennifer grinned. "But I'm afraid you're a bad influence, Jen. I haven't smoked in weeks and suddenly here I am having a cigarette with you. I can't afford for you to corrupt me into getting drunk, too." She laughed. "I had to get away from George because of all his terrible habits. He smokes too much and he drinks too much, among many other awful things." "Like what?" Jen's voice had a faraway quality to it. "Well, for one thing, I found out George was cheating on me with other women." Jen shrugged. "So?" "What do you mean, so? It was terrible, Jen. I came home one night unexpectedly and found George in bed with some bimbo. Even worse, he tried to talk me into joining them!" Jen knew the politically correct thing was to echo her criticism. But she couldn't. The idea of two women in bed with a guy sounded marvelous, exactly like something she suddenly wanted to do more than anything. "I dunno, Jennifer. Maybe you're too hard on poor George." That name again! God, what was it about his name that gave her goose bumps? "But whatever. I want to be your friend," she went on earnestly, doing her best to cover up raging lustful intentions. "I'm sorry you're feeling sad and alone. Seriously, let's get together and share some girl time. You know?" "Okay," Jennifer grinned, not realizing brunette Jennifer's true motive. "Thanks for the company. And thanks for the cigarette. I know where to come if my nicotine cravings get too strong." "Come over anytime," Jen said languorously. "I'm happy to corrupt you anytime!" |
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