Wednesday, November 10, 2010


Chameleon is the working name of our heroine Lorraine Stapleton. Her main talent is that she can become whoever she wants to become; she trained as an actress. She works for an ultra-exclusive club called "The Network" Here is how one of her assignments begins.

Chapter 2
The Senator

The cell phone’s ring tone told Lorraine that the call came from ‘The Network’ She had only reported as active yesterday and already an assignment was in the works. That was lucky, probably.
She picked up a note pad and answered the phone
“You are to be Senator Raymond Leighton Pacey’s girlfriend,” the voice on the phone said, “You are twenty five, a law student at Yale and a submissive pain slut. You will go to Bermuda where you will stay for a week at his wife’s chalet, at her total disposal. He is handing you over as compensation for his affair with you, which she discovered day before yesterday. Your share is forty five thousand US dollars. Do you accept the assignment?”
“Her name is Mona Roberts. The pictures and details will be e-mailed within five minutes.”
Chameleon turned the computer on; she no longer thought of herself as Lorraine once she accepted an assignment; from now on, until the assignment was complete she would be Chameleon; any time she was not Mona Roberts. The pictures were already in her in box. She studied them carefully, trying to incorporate the young Yale student’s facial expressions and postures into her own. Additional information on the young girl was in the attached document. She printed the pictures and the document; her printer was top of the line. She made an appointment with her stylist for the next day; her hair had to be a little longer. She would not need much makeup. She called her travel agent. Her first class tickets to Bermuda were already there.
Chameleon shredded the pictures as soon as she finished her hair and makeup sessions. She kept the documents until she had memorized all of Mona Roberts’ mannerisms and favorite word expressions. When she walked up to the plane, she was Mona Roberts
The plane landed at Kindley Field. A lovely young brunette walked from her first class seat to the door of the aircraft not forgetting to thank the flight attendant for a very pleasant flight. Just before exiting the plane, she clapped her hands in front of her face, separating them slowly, like the curtains in a theater.
Senator Pacey was easy to recognize. His influence allowed him to wait for her inside the customs hall. A policeman wearing, of course, Bermuda shorts and a pith helmet waved her through customs and into his arms.
“Wow! You do look like Mona.”
“I am Mona Raymond; don’t forget it.”
He accompanied her to the car and sat beside her in the back seat. The chauffeur drove them out of the airport and over the Causeway. They turned south when they reached the big island; Lucia’s chalet was in Tucker’s Point Golf Club. The car stopped at the door, the chauffeur got out and opened the door on her side.
“I cannot go with you any further, Raymond said. Thank you for doing this for me. I shall pick you up in a week.”
He kissed her on her lips.
“You know I’ll do anything for you Raymond,” Mona replied.
As soon as she got out the chauffeur drove off. A black maid, wearing a black and white uniform opened the door to the house and picked up her carry on. She walked in.
“Welcome Madam,” the maid said escorting her into an airy living room. “Mistress will be with you in a moment.”
She took her luggage away leaving her alone. Chameleon walked around the living room. The setting sun gave everything an orange undertone that enhanced the warmth of the place. She glanced at the artwork on the walls realizing that they were original pieces. There was silver and china scattered on two china cabinets. She touched a lacquer cabinet and thought it rather inappropriate for the location. ‘The humidity will damage the lacquer soon’ she thought and smiled. ‘She is trying to show restraint, but cannot keep a bit of the snob from showing.’
“I wonder what Raymond thinks of it,” she said in a low voice.
“What does he think of what?”
Lucia entered the room like an empress surveying her domains.
“That lacquer piece” Mona said,“it is very beautiful; I bet it hasn’t been there too long.”
“You are not here to talk about cabinets,” Lucia snorted.
“No madam,” Mona said submissively.
Lucia wore a dark red blouse over a black satin shirt that reached halfway down her thighs. Black hose and heels seemed rather inappropriate for a subtropical paradise but not, perhaps, for what impended. Mona wore a mauve sundress that left her shoulders bare, a white cardigan that lay on the back of a chair where she had deposited it, white hose and heels and, underneath, matching garter belt, bra and thong.
“Do you know why you are here whore?”
“I am to serve you,” Mona answered, “ you can use me, anyway you want, for a week.”
“Is that all?”
Mona cast her eyes down, “You may hurt me... as much as you wish.”
Lucia examined the younger woman, contempt oozing from every pore on her body.
“Turn around, slowly,” she ordered.
Keeping her eyes downcast, Mona slowly spun in place.
“Follow me.”
Mona followed her mistress in silence.
She led her to a room that had no windows. An air conditioner on one of the walls kept the air chilly. A cot lay on the side of the room and on it was her carry on.
Mona removed her dress but before she could remove her brassiere, Lucia ordered her to stop. She approached the young woman and her fingers caressed the lacy fabric. Mona found it hard to catch her breath. Lucia misinterpreted the trepidation on the younger woman’s chest.
Her fingers lightly touched Mona’s breasts above the bra, “So you are my husband’s pain slut.”
“Yes mistress.”
“I don’t believe you.” She slapped her face, hard.
Mona did not make a sound, she just looked at the floor and answered:
“No mistress.”
“You are not his slut?”
“I am, mistress.”
“What I don’t believe, you little tart,” Lucia said, enunciating her words with care, “is that you are a submissive pain slut at all.”
Her hand slapped Mona’s face from the other side. Her ears rang from the blow for a few moments. She remained silent.
“Answer me!”
“Whatever mistress wants.”
“Are you, or are you not a submissive pain slut?”
“I am mistress.” Mona went down on her knees.
“My husband put you up to this.”
Mona bent lower, and took one of Lucia’s feet in her hands; she kissed the tip of her shoe.
“He ordered me to come and to serve you mistress.”
Mona rolled on her side, bending over in pain from the kick Lucia gave her in her gut.
“I don’t believe you,” she said turning around, “You will tell me the truth, and I shall greatly enjoy breaking it out of you.”
‘And then I shall ruin him,’ she thought.
She slammed the door on her way out.
The air conditioner continued to hum on the wall.

No comments:

Post a Comment