You’ll want to have read Scene 2 to make sense of this.
While Fawzia had done her rounds, securing certain positions with people she needed to know (and finding time to talk with Marianna— an old and deeply corrupt friend— to tell her that the pursuit would be consummated in short order, and that the usual retainer would be paid to keep other potential ‘benefactors’ at bay), Susie, another of Fawzia’s conquests, known to Alina by sight alone, had arrived to sit with Alina— both guarding her and in place to reassure any doubts that might arise. Susie blushed as she said Hi, but Alina didn’t look up from her hands, loose on the table in front of her.
After a minute, during which Alina had given no sign of being going to speak, seemed lost in thought, Suzie had spoken, quietly, almost a whisper;
She … she wants … You …You’re to take your panties off. Right now. Um … Please.
Alina had looked up then, still silent, and the two lovely young women, in popular imagination granted goddess status by their position as New York fashion models, but in reality helpless slaves to the machine, unless and until they by some miracle broke out from the pack to become famous, united now in yet deeper coils as members of Fawzia’s rolling roster of girls— these two young women stared at each other, neither able to speak, both flushed; Suzie with a weak little smile on her lips, Alina’s expression almost challenging, demanding, making Suzie’s blush all the deeper, until the blonde girl had looked away, her breathing rapid.
Picture: Alina and Suzie at the table
A few seconds later, having pulled herself together, Suzie turned back, her whisper almost fierce now;
It … It’s good… really … You’ll see … she … She’s amazing … what … what she can do … make you … she dried up again, mouth working, trying to control herself, then suddenly smiling again— a big, sad, sweet smile, despairing but somehow hopeful, too;
We … we’re going to be … be fucking each other, and … and licking each other … and … and other … other things, too… and … and it will be good— I’ll make it good for you— see if I don’t— make you come really nicely, I promise, so … so, please? Please, take your panties off, now— please? Otherwise … She … She gets angry.
Alina stared for several more seconds, impassive, questioning, but then, without saying a word, nodded to herself, a small movement, unemphatic, but firm, having been able to come up with any other course of action other than to go along with the narrative, smiled a funny little smile at Suzie, and, without bothering to disguise what she was up to, fished under her short skirt and pulled down a very ordinary pair of white cotton knickers, which she looked at under the table for a moment, before simply flicking them to the grass.
She blushed a little deeper than, suppressed a deep sighing breath, and said, almost normally;
Do … does she put her … her fist in you— in your p-pussy, too?
Which made Suzie blush, and squirm, and whisper;
‘Please, Alina, not so loud! I mean … everybody knows, of course, but … but don’t— please, don’t‘
Alina had blinked, and said she was sorry, in a much quieter voice, but continued to look expectant, so that Suzie had blushed some more, and answered;
That’s … that’s the way She does it, to all of us. Every … everyone knows— if … if you’re one of Fawzia’s girls, you take her fist. It’s … it’s … You … you won’t forget it.
She … she told me it would hurt. Does … does it always hurt?”
It always … hurts … with Fawzia. But … in the end, it’s always better than … better than anything else.
And that had been the way of it. Trudi— the hostess and denizen of the house had appeared, sometime after Alina had begun to wonder, how long was an hour? Trudi whispered in Suzie’s ear, looking all the while at Alina, hungrily, as if entitled, so that Alina had had to drop her gaze, so strange was it to experience that sudden change— Trudi had greeted her earlier with the carefully respectful mode accorded to girls who— rumour had it— might be on the runway to being supermodels, even by established mavens of the New York circuit like Trudi.
Picture: Trudi
To be subjected to this direct, voracious gaze was a very different experience for Alina; not unpleasant, so much as unsettling— surprisingly as exciting as it it was disturbing. Exciting in her groin, rather than her head. Was this what Suzie had meant by ‘everybody knows’?
Trudi had led them— Suzie having caught Alina’s hand in her own, whether for solidarity or to make it harder for her to pull back if she experienced second thoughts, it was impossible for Alina to know.
Picture: Alina & Suzie
It gave her goosebumps, thinking about who at the party was aware of what was happening, might be watching her, thinking about what lay in store for her. For herself, she was in a fog. It seemed ridiculous that this could be happening, and at the same time inevitable, irresistible, as she let Suzie direct her, as if in a dream, following Trudi up the wide stair, up and up again, where Trudi stood aside so that they left her, almost grinning at them both.
Picture: On the stairs
They passed along a short, wide hallway where Suzie stopped and made it clear that they were going to take their shoes off, then through a door to a bedroom which was elegant enough, but strangely bare— a large single bed, without covers, a utilitarian metal frame, rather sturdy looking.
Suzie turned to face her, then, blushing very pink, moving awkwardly, fidgeting, smiling (no, thought Alina; simpering. She’d never really thought what the word meant, but this was it, this helpless, apologetic movement of the lips, pathetically eager to appease)— embarrassing Alina on Suzie’s behalf— the girl was obviously in some sort of whirlpool of confused emotion.
I … I’m going to kiss you, now. There … there are cameras.
And then she did, half lunged, half shimmied into Alina; pushed her against the wall— more clumsy and conflicted than aggressive— having caught Alina’s wrists in her hands, held them out and away, then leaned in and began to kiss, mouth open, hot and wet and urgent.
Picture: Suzie kisses Alina
Alina’s passivity surprised her. She was actually a competent martial artist, had been visiting the dojo at least three times a week since she was eight, could have rendered the girl helpless in a moment, but the logic of the dream was that she would submit, accept— and so she opened her lips and allowed herself to be kissed.
It was true that she had been powerfully aware of some electricity in the presence of— or the increasing amount of time she had recently spent thinking about Fawzia— but this lightning resolution was still unreal, too far beyond her limited bodily imagination (Alina’s dreams centre entirely on explorations of mathematical realms— she has given up trying to fathom humans).
And that had been the way of it, ever since. Fawzia said what was going to happen, and Alina, wordlessly, sweetly, elegantly, humbly, complied. It seemed to make little difference to Alina whether Fawzia made her laugh or cry, whether she made her come or moan with pain; the quality of her acceptance, her willingness, her gratitude for Fawzia’s attention- and, honestly, for the sensations and experiences which flowed from that attention, ever growing, ever more intense, ever needier.
Except that, in the last months, the range of those experiences had begun to include things for which Alina could not, would not feel grateful. Experiences that were truly hateful, but which Fawzia insisted upon, the iron fist inside her velvet-gloved voice as implacable as the bony-knuckled, hard-as-oak fist which was so often jammed into Alina’s velvet-lipped little pussy.
Picture: Fawzia, implacable
