"That's what they found in Stephanie's cell, in the search after her
escape." said Lt. Louis Soto while showing Adam and Monique a note,
written roughly on typical letter kits.
"So how did she escape, exactly?" asked Monique.
"Cleverly. We believe she's got professional advice."
"How?"
"That's confidential."
Monique and Adam started to read Stephanie's letter. It's truely a frightening
experience.
"Everyone is full of bull in this hellhole. They say that they want
to help me, that everything is for my own good. Yeah, right. Why can't they
see that no one, especially not that bitch Teri, loved--make that _loves_
Brian nearly as much as I do."
"And I know that he loves me, too. After all, he said I had real potential
to become a big model. It's not every day that a top photographer says that
someone has that indescribable quality, that elusive "it.""
"Brian obviously knows what he's talking about. I would've put everyone
in Hillary's stable to shame. That fat pig Sarah, that shrew Julie, that
wimp Linda, that senior citizen Carrie--all of them."
"And now I also see that there's this dead ringer for Teri, Monique
Duran or something, pretty much picking up where Teri left off as Models
Inc.'s resident supermodel. Poor girl, stuck with Teri's face. I ought to
do her a favor and burn it off for her once I get out of here..."
"Speaking of which, that should be soon. The foolish doctors here don't
realize that I've got them figured out. I tell them the nicy-nice, remorseful
things because that's what they want to hear; I don't mean a word of it.
Yet they eat it up like pudding, all the better for me."
"They say that I'm making "beautiful progress," and that
they have "no doubt in their mind" that I'm rehabilitated and
that I'll be able to function normally on the outside. It's funny; they
sound as if they forgot the reason why I'm here-- murder. But that's their
problem, not mine. I'm on my way out of here, and everyone better look out..."
<Models, Inc.> Role Play Episode 12
Rituals of Death
The house-warming party for the arrival of Cally was most interesting,
with all kinds of people and friends, and with quality food served quietly
in the house's quiet section, making use of all the space possible.
As the party swung on, little groups started to form, groups of sizes and
some of totally isolated people. Most of the groups had very little reason
for their associations, other than fun. The three Phatasy, Inc. models,
(Cally, "Bright Eyes" Maggie, and Victoria) for example, were
not with each other, but spread out thru the party.
Cally had most of the men with Julie, Cynthia, and Hillary around her -
afterall she is the subject of the party. Oddly enough, Linda and Sarah
were keeping distance from her, instead hovering around Bright Eyes.
Bright Eyes was very bubblely, cheerful, chatting away about just about
anything, smiling, laughing, like a child. Which, considering the heights
of the models around her, that impression carried.
The tall, raven haired Victoria, sufficiently jeweled in a short, low back
silver party dress that hugged her every line, was off in a corner talking
with a man invited by Grayson. And Grayson was just glancing toward them,
now and then, intently, once wondering if it was just casual or deliberate
when Victoria bent one leg under herself, placing her high heel against
the wall she was leaning against.
But all the Phatasy models had her eye and attention, seeing possible profit
in Victoria and Bright Eyes, and wonderment about Cally.
Linda had drifted away from Cally since she had found that pistol in her
car. She didn't like guns and finding out that Cally was very comfortable
around them made her uneasy about her, even though Cally had tried to ease
her mind on the issue. But Cally's 'partner', Bright Eyes, seemed nothing
like that at all.
Bright Eyes had let her dark brown hair flow free, bangs and all. She had
on a dark brown long sleeved blouse that matched the short, tight skirt
she had on with dark tights that disappeared into the cuffs of her high
boots. Rather 60's, but for her, it looked perfect, loop earrings just barely
perceptable underneath her hair.
To Sarah, in a red sheer, but lined, poet blouse and a short, tight black
front button, belted skirt, she reminded her of a flower child from then.
It may have been her mood, for Bright Eyes, a large glass of Chardonney
in her hand that she occassionally sipped, was a charming motor mouth, just
talking all the way. Sarah, drinking ginger ale, was not sure if this small
model was drunk yet, so she decided to find out by actually listening to
what she was saying.
"Bright Eyes, give us a moment to talk, will you?"
"Okay!" she replied back quickly, a cheerful smile rising to her
lips as she looked up at the taller model.
Sarah, picking up on her moves, idly shook her head slightly and said, "First
of all, why have we never met you before?"
Bright Eyes look straight at Sarah, her name reflecting, and shrugged with
a small wiggle of her shoulders. "I dona know!" and took another
lazy sip of her wine.
"But how long have you been with the company?" Sarah pressed forward,
curiosity in her eyes, her lips slightly parted, towering above Bright Eyes.
Linda, in a wine stretch laced slip dress, was close at her side, idly fingering
her wine glass. She was just as curious to find out about the company that
her new, apparently dangerous housemate kept.
Bright Eyes shrugged like a child again. "Over two years, since the
company started."
Linda decided to get into the conversation. "Really? Where are you
living?"
A joyful smile as the head turned to Linda, loving all the attention she
was getting. "A studio, over near the offices. It's small, but me and
my cats manage with it."
"Just a studio?" Linda asked with concern. Bright Eyes was a tradename
model,under 'Maggie', just like Cally, so she should have been rolling in
the money. "Why not someplace bigger?"
"It's okay for me," she replied with another shrugged and a smile,
and perhaps her eyes even getting brighter. "It's enough for me; I
save the rest of my money," and she slowly blinked, long eye lashes
seductively, and took another long lazy long swallow of her wine.
Sarah continued to ask here questions, but was rather convinced that the
woman was not drunk, just simple. An effect that was not lost upon Grayson
who had been watching them carefully, impressed and calculating to the woman's
energy and apparent state of mind. A state of mind that she should be able
to easily mold to her uses.
She glanced over to Cally, dressed in a gold mandarin collared, crossed
button blouse over a side slited skirt. Not as revealing as some others
at the party, but noticable never the less. Grayson put the conservative
style of the dress down to hiding the marks of Jonathan's failed hit.
Cally, gold shell earrings visible under her auburn hair, had teamed up
with Hillary or Hillary had teamed up with her, and was listening as the
older woman talked to her, others around in the group respectfully listening.
Her eyes were intent on her ultimate boss, her hands securly holding a tumbler
of a dark, iced alcohol.
Cally, earlier, occassionally shifted her glance from Hillary to Jason,
making eye contact, probing for a response, giving him a smile, and finding
nothing in return. Jason has the perfect personality to be part of the team,
she was thinking. And his built would be certainly perfect for the kind
of work she does, too... What a partner to have, Cally thought. Yet, no
matter what Cally does Jason seems disinterested. Thus when Jason had drifted
off, she had apparently forgotten about him.
"What's wrong with you?" says Sarah, more concerned. Jason
was not responding anymore, instead only looking extremely exhausted or
tired. Sarah helped him upstairs into her room, where she helped him onto
a chair. She turned on the ceiling lights, and her desk lamp, just to get
the room brighter; hoping to wake Jason up to some degree.
"Jason, Jason!" Sarah repeatedly called out his name but there
was no reply. Jason was to some degree unconscious, breathing deeply. Sarah
lightly touched his face, but immediately felt guilty for doing so. She
retreated back to the door.
"I'll get you some water OK?" She then walked out.
Anna, seeing Sarah walking out of her room, walked upstairs. She quickly
sneaked into the room and turned off the light. The room is now only lit
by the desk lamp and Anna was feeling glad that her plan has worked out
exactly as she wished. He walked over to Jason, and helped him onto Sarah's
bed.
In the dim light of Sarah's room, Jason had collasped on his back on her
bed. He never even made it out of his jacket. But Anna, looking down on
him, decided she would help him too, with that.
The halter dress model leaned over the sleeping man, her cleavage unappreciated
by his unconsciousness. Awkwardly, pushing one arm then the other and rolling
him slightly to the side, she finally managed to get the jacket off him.
Allowing him to roll back in place, she went to a closet to hang it up,
patting it down as she went. There was no billfold, no appointment book,
only a small electronic pack like a beeper. She turned it over in her hands,
pressing its buttons, but when nothing came of it, she placed it back in
the pocket it had come from and turned her attention back to the collasped
Jason.
She stopped by the door and ensured it was locked and then approached the
bed. In the light cast only by a single lamp, the joyous party barely heard
in the back ground, she lifted one leg up and slide off one heel then repeated
the maneuveur with her other leg. Placing the shoes to the side, she reached
up under her hair to the knot that held the straps to her dress in place
and lightly tugged at the bow, releasing it, allowing the front to fall
away, her breasts 'floating' in the light. She lightly dug her thumbs into
the snug waist line and pushed the dress down, stepping out of the slit
skirt, placing it over a chair, before she climbed onto the bed, straddling
Jason in only black, sheer back bikini panties.
Leaning over him, she lightly kissed him, glad to hear a murmer that he
was returning to the real, if apparently fantasy, world. Returning to a
more upright position, she proceeded to unbutton his shirt, all the way
down to his trousers, but she did not stop there, but merely shifted her
hands from the buttons on the shirt to the belt on his trousers. Unlinking
it, she undid the snap, slowly lowered the zipper, and then, starting at
his collar, steadly moved down spreading his shirt and trousers to the side.
"Tonight, you'll be mine." spoken Anna ever so lightly.
Anna returned to her room with the water, only to find the door closed and
locked.
"What the hell?"
Then she thought it might be Jason who locked the door, after waking up.
She decided to knock and see what's happening.
"Jason, are you okay? What's going on?" Sarah yelled but there's
no reply.
"This is going to be over soon," thought Carrie.
Carrie is sitting on her bed in her little room allocated to her. She has
never felt so comfortable before; and she never thought she would feel happy.
But she's happy now. She is excited now, for the first time since her arrival.
"I am just so lucky..." as she thinks about her misfortune and
then the fortunate situation she is in now, she can't resist smiling.
If not had been James, she would have been treated in ways unimaginable
- she had seen the others' condition in this "hookers' hell" in
Central America and she knew how lucky she was. Jim, the largest money spender
in this place, picked her as his favourite. "If not for him..."
Carrie ended with a deep shudder. She wouldn't let herself consider the
horrible images that thought created.
Carrie shakes herself to clear her head of the horrible images that thought
created and picks her hairbrush. "He's so kind... so gentle..."
Carrie thinks to herself. A faint smile plays on her lips as she lightly,
caressingly brushes her hair as if remembering the touch of James' hands
on her hair. "This might be fate." The fact that Jim didn't even
visit this place until after her arrival made her feel an extra sense of
luck and satisfaction. And now he was going to help her escape, away from
this hell. Jim was so caring, the feeling was so much different than any
other "customer" she had had, including those back in the Grayson
days...
"This is all HER fault..." Carrie's face flushes with anger. James
had planned the escape with her, and they are going to go back to L.A. together.
He had already bought a fake passport for her, and they were going to go
back to her friends so she would be on home ground when she confronted Grayson
about her treachery.
Carrie had told James about Grayson's treachery, but she hadn't mentioned
her plan to extract revenge on the bitch. She didn't want James to realize
how bitter she was about this experience, how much hatred she was repressing.
She didn't want to lose him... she couldn't lose him! She hadn't had this
depth of feeling for anyone ever before. Her feelings for James eclipsed
any feelings she had had for another, they far exceeded what she had felt
for Paul.
"Tomorrow night." Carrie spoke to herself softly. "Tomorrow
night. And then Grayson, I'm going to get you back... You are going to PAY!"
THE END OF RP.12 "Rituals of Death"
RP.12 Written by
*Traci "DRAGONETTES" <TH06@swt.edu>
*Elisabeth B. Shaw <bethshaw@neosoft.com>
*WhiteDog <lwdog@netspace.net.au> and
*Frank Filipek <filipek@clam.rutgers.edu>
_ With Special Guest Writer _ *Michael Dequina <izzyr9c@mvs.oac.ucla.edu>
New storyline devised by WhiteDog and
*Danielle Spence <DANIELLE_SPENCE@HP-PaloAlto-om4.om.hp.com>.
MI, Characters and names properties of the Spelling Entertainment group.
What would you like to see? Send in your storyline requests NOW to <lwdog@netspace.net.au>.
Comments or suggestions to lwdog@netspace.net.au
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(R)1995 WhiteDog(TM) Production