Having It All (42 page)

That night, Sandy phoned Meg and they spent the first fifteen minutes talking about nothing of consequence. Meg sensed that her sister was fishing and just let her rattle on. Finally, Sandy asked if Meg would like to come for the holidays. As expected, Meg hesitated and then said that she would love to come, but she was pretty involved with someone else and it would be awkward.

“Is that someone else Remmy?” Sandy asked, putting a sisterly spin on the question, making it seem totally natural to ask.

“Yeah. You know about her, right? I mean, like I told you about us after I got rid of asshole Andy.”

“Sure. I know and so does Jim and we want both of you to come and stay, assuming that you and Remmy are comfortable with that. We want to give you the round trip tickets as a Christmas present, okay?”

“Wow. Yeah. Sure. Let me make sure Remmy hasn't made any other plans, but I think we could get out of here the week before Thanksgiving. Is that okay with you guys?”

“Sure. Bring your own handcuffs and stay until we tell you to go home. Sometime after New Years.”

“Oh, right,” laughed Meg. “I'm sure TSA will love that. I'll stuff a turkey with cuffs and collars and bring it with me…” She laughed harder.

“You want to fly from SFO or San Jose?”

“Either one. Book what's cheapest, okay?”

“I'll let Jim handle it and send you the details by email. I'm pretty tied up these days.”

“Right. I'm sure. Save us a rack or something.”

“We'll do it,” said Sandy about to hang up. “Oh,” she added quickly. “Send me some guidelines that you two use. I just want to know what your personal parameters for B&D are so that we are in synch…”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then Meg said quietly, as if she were whispering, “Anything goes,” and hung up.

Chapter Twenty Six

Cuffs

Part of the charm of having a house full of sexy, young women is that for each of them there are at least four perfect places to attach ropes, chains, shackles and cuffs. Among Sandy, Meg and Remmy, that meant no less than twelve lovely limbs to restrain. As Sandy reminded Jim on the second day of Thanksgiving holiday, “Twelve should not be assumed to be the maximum attachment points for restraint hardware.”

He looked at her, wondering exactly what she had in mind and then it dawned on him that of course he was not counting the lovely, long necks. So he said, “Of course. I forgot about the collars.”

“Duh,” said Meg, who was listening to the conversation. She sat on one of the couches, reading a soft cover erotic novel and stuck out her pink tongue at Jim, laughing loudly.

“Duh, yourself,” added Remmy, sitting next to her. She was curled up with a pink brocade quilt and nothing else around her torso on as far as Jim could tell.

Remmy's body was a sexual anomaly. Everyone agreed. No one was entitled to look that good, with or without clothes. At twenty five, she blamed the condition on too many years of dieting and working out and almost everyone agreed that if diets and exercise would produce that sort of looks in others, there would be a national rush to the gym. Remmy was a natural blue-eyed blond. Her thick, straw-colored hair reached halfway down her back when it wasn't bound in pigtails or a pony tail or some other distracting arrangement. Her face was oval, shaped almost like a heart, but not cutesy. Her mouth was wide and her teeth, which she swore she did nothing to, were brilliant, sparkling white and perfectly aligned. When Remmy talked, which wasn't that often, she immediately got the attention of anyone in the room because she added her own special body language to her few words. Her head seemed to adjust to make sure that her blue eyes made direct and penetrating contact with yours and she never, ever looked away. Remmy could not enter a room without having most living humans swivel their heads and stare at her. The high, slightly pointed breasts, narrow waist and sleek hips and ass seemed to all move together in a flowing, unexaggerated way, communicating to males and females in the room that this body was not one they were going to even touch, let alone fuck. The women who saw her were either instantly jealous or turned into yearning mush that would do anything to be a close friend or associate of this stunning female. When this happened, Meg would laugh loudly. Never showing any signs of jealousy, Meg seemed to revel in her friend and lover's gaming with her watchers. Sitting at a bar, Meg would often seem to ignore Remmy's attention-getting presence and strike up a conversation with the bartender or anyone else within range. Remmy just stood or sat and ordered her drink and smiled and glowed. It was distracting to even the most assertive people. Remmy had developed her technique to perfection. As a fitness trainer and occasional speaker on personal health, Remmy used more body language and a lot fewer words.

Since she and Meg arrived, it was clear that Remmy was easily the dominant member of the casual couple, but nevertheless they appeared as a perfect match and neither of them seemed especially worried about establishing a dominant position over anyone…except perhaps each other. They constantly and silently vied for the pole position in everything from where they sat at the dinner table to who got shotgun seat in a vehicle. It reminded Jim of two friendly Golden Retrievers who loved each other, but wanted to make sure that one didn't get more attention than the other.

Upon arrival at the house, Meg told Sandy that they had encountered some problems with TSA at the airport. The government security loons had scanned and then opened the girls’ carry on suitcases, rummaged through the small amount of interestingly exotic lingerie and then opened the several canvas bags in the suitcases, unceremoniously removing a large collection of cuffs and chains, as well as a small nylon bag with keys, connecting links, snap hooks and locks. Another bag held an assortment of blindfolds, gags, dildoes and other perfectly normal sex play gear. The male TSA inspector was shocked and immediately called his supervisor, a pretty, black woman with three stripes on her shoulder tabs, who arrived quickly, surveyed the hardware displayed on the metal counter where everyone in the security area could see it and ordered the inspector to replace it and do so quickly. She turned to Meg and Remmy, who were standing behind the barrier and apologized profusely for the officer's insensitivity.

“This is unfortunate and I apologize for any embarrassment it might have caused you,” she said. “If you had indicated that you had erotic materials, we could have carried out the inspection in privacy. Or you could have checked the bags.”

“I didn't want to check them and have to pay for it because we have so little luggage,” Meg said. The supervisor nodded and made sure that all the items were now back in the carry-on bags. She guided both women through the area, handed them their luggage and shoes and again said she was sorry for the inconvenience.

“In any case,” she summarized, “the inspecting officer should not have handled it this way. Our training specifically covers this type of situation and you are, of course, well within the allowed categories. We have no problem with erotic toys and materials as long as they pose no threat or danger. I AM sorry.”

Meg said that she and Remmy both smiled, shrugged, put on their shoes and headed for the departure gate. But the incident illustrated how well these two seemed to handle any sort of crisis. They were indeed a well-matched pair. As the holiday went on, Jim learned exactly how well matched they were.

“So, with that tale out of the way, we three thought we'd provide you with an evening of entertainment, courtesy of the RMS players,” Meg said as they all sat around on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, drinking some of the wine and beer they'd picked up that morning at the Big Box Wholesale grocery.

“Okay. I'll bite. What is RMS?”asked Jim.

“Geez, Jim,” Sandy piped up. “Think about it. We are RMS. Remmy, Meg and Sandy.”

“Oh,” Jim said as he gulped too big a swig of German beer, coughed and some of it dribbled out his nose. “Sorry. I missed that. Too distracted by so much female pulchritude, I guess.”

“You want pulchritude, you got it. It's now two. We need a couple of hours to get ready, but we'll be back in here to meet you at five. How's that,” Sandy said, checking with Meg and Remmy and getting nods from both. “Okay, that's great. And don't forget to fill out the question forms we gave you. We need to know your likes and dislikes.”

Meg and Remmy nodded. Sandy giggled, knowing that she had already gotten all the information she needed when she and Meg talked on the phone weeks before. Then they got up and headed for the upstairs bathroom, no doubt to test the tricky hot tub that Sandy had been babbling to them about earlier. Jim watched a football game and dozed off.

When he woke up, it was to raucous noise and laughter in the upstairs bathroom. It sounded like the three playmates were having a very good time in The Tub and Jim decided that rather than interrupt, he'd go out and make another quick trip to the Big Box, since the girls had forgotten a few items on his list. Apparently, there were plenty of cute chicks and ducklings shopping in the store when the girls arrived and this proved to be a considerable distraction, so they had not paid much attention to the list. He left a short note on the kitchen island and went out.

HAD TO GO BACK TO BIG BOX FOR BOOZE.

BACK IN AN HOUR. DON'T SCREW UP MY TUB!!!

Meanwhile, the girls were taking maximum advantage of the tub's features. With Sandy doing the demos, all three just had to use the special drain bindings and when Meg or Remmy were secured on their backs, the other two ploughed the gorgeous new and exposed territory like pilgrims cultivating the new land. By five o'clock, everyone was exhausted and needed a nap. They retired to the multiple bedrooms and passed out. No one saw Jim's note and if they had, it wouldn't have made any difference anyway.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Crime

Jim decided to get a take-up dinner so that no one was going to have to cook that evening, so he was late getting back as well. By the time he had put the meals in the kitchen and wandered around a bit, he finally called Sandy and heard the three padding about upstairs.

“You guys want to eat?” he yelled up the stairs.

“In a minute,” Meg called back.”We're getting ready.”

“Food is getting cold.”

“We like cold food,” Remmy hollered back, giggling.

“You're going to get it…” Jim said, half to himself as he opened another beer.

When the two guests came downstairs, they were dressed as a pair of very sexy dolls, each with enough make-up and accessories to convince anyone that they were either renegades from some off Broadway play or professional hookers. Jim sat in his den, wearing only an old pair of plaid boxer shorts that he had trouble holding up because he had lost weight and the elastic waistband on the shorts was worn out.

“Well, Master, whadaya think?” Meg asked Jim, striking a pose in the living room doorway with her partner at her side, holding her leash. Both girls wore sleeveless, rubber leotard-cut tops with no bra, fishnet hose, black high heels with at least five-inch spikes, elbow length fishnet gloves and nothing else. The tops had deep plunging V necklines that reached nearly to their crotch and high cut sides that displayed long legs, smooth thighs and ninety percent of their well-formed asses. There was little left to the imagination and the hardened nipples pressing outward against the thin latex nicely accented the pair of breasts that jiggled just enough when they moved to convince the observer that there was some small, round animal trapped behind the shiny rubber, trying mightily to get free. Just Meg's talking and breathing seemed to encourage the creatures on her chest to struggle more. Meg's arms were behind her back and as she turned slowly, Jim saw that her elbows were strapped closely together, bringing her lower arms parallel. Her wrists also had a double wound strap holding them against her buttocks. The effect of the strapped elbows only served to thrust her tits out even further than they already would have been and was a nice bonus to Jim's vision. They both wore a pair of leather hobbles on their ankles, but with a few extra links in the chain so that they could at least shuffle along at slow speed without tripping. Around their necks were ordinary ball gags, seemingly just waiting to be stashed in their mouths.

Jim unconsciously held his breath. He didn't know what to say. The women had, at this point, taken control.

“Ah…very, very nice,” he finally said. “What have you done with Sandy, or shouldn't I even ask?”

“Oh,” said Remmy. “I think she has a date with the rack. We thought she could use some stretching.”

“We?” Jim asked, still recovering from the scene before him. Meg was still slowly rotating, pivoting on her heels, thrusting out her tits towards him each time she turned around, giving Jim the side and front angles and also giving him an instant hard-on.

“Us,” said Remmy, her voice a bit lower and rougher than usual. “We thought you should spend some time with us, so Sandy's otherwise occupied.”

“Fine, fine,” said Jim. “Why don't you sit down…or better yet, do you want some barbeque? I picked up three different kinds of meals, not knowing what anyone felt like.

“No food for me. I can't sit down,” chirped Remmy. “There are these long, fat things up my butt and puss. I sit and they drive me nuts.”

“I see,” said Jim, although he could not see anything more than what might have been the edges of a very closely trimmed bush at the apex of Remmy's smooth thighs where the thin band of latex disappeared up the cleft of her backside. “By the way, did you two scamps manage to get the questionnaire filled out?”