Arnold, Janet and Bettie

"What have we here? You're quite moist for a simple domestic. Turned on, I'd have to say." She steps back and delivers two more slashes; right, left. "Tell me you love it, you slut!"

B: "Oh yes, maam, I love it!"

S: "You did some of this with my father, didn't you? Between blow jobs and kinky sex. Didn't you?" (slash) Well?"

B: "Sometimes--but I--"

S: "Why am i not surprised? I don't even want to know what happened the night he died with a shit-eating grin on his face and empty seminal vesicles--oh yes, they check for that in the autopsy--My father was a major league SMBD pervert. And, as they say, the acorn doesn't fall very far from the oak. I think you get my meaning. You and I are going to have some lovely times. "

Stacy unbuttons, then discards her blouse, slips out of her riding breeches and boots. Surprisingly she is wearing a garter belt and black nylons under her riding togs. Proudly naked, she parades before her maid.

She unchains Betties arms and brings them in front of her, reconnecting the chain, and stoops to add a six inch hobble chain linking her ankle cuffs. She stands close to Bettie, caressing her rosy welted botom, then gently tweaks one nipple. She holds Bettie's jaw gently but firmly and gazes into her eyes as she moves the riding crop, now slicked with Bettie's juices between her cunt lips. Bettie, trembling, tries to return her domineering gaze, but cannot.

"Kneel, please. Now!" Stacy was imperious. As Bettie reluctanly obeys, Stacy fingers her long dark hair, then tugs her firmly between her slightly spread thighs; Betties mouth is forced against Stacy's plump blondefringed cunt.

Fellatio can be filmed tastefully, or as X rated cuntlapping; Arnold was determined to get his steamy scene just right. As Janet tongued Stacy's moist inviting pussy (discreetly just off camera, of course) Stacy's arched posture, her half closed eyes and tiny moans, left no doubt as to what was going on.

There is a long silent pause as Stacy releases Bettie's hair and catches her eye with the hint of an imperious smile. In turn Bettie, the tastes and smells of her Mistresses' cunt on her lips and in her nostrils, looks up a the dominating blonde, and returns the smile, lips parted.

*

S: " That's just a tiny demonstration, my dear, of our --possible relationship. But If you should falter in your duties--Oh my! " (long pause, as she continues to stroke Bettie's ass, manipulating the riding crop) "I've changed my mind. I think you will be able to serve out the terms of dear old Dad's--you called him Bunny?--will. It will be -i promise you--very onerous, and occasionally painful--just your cup of tea, I suspect."

B: "I--I'll do my best, ma'am."

S: "Call me--Mistress. And I'll call you--slave!"

Arnold had been dancing about, eye glued to his viewfinder: long shots, closeups, ready to cut and reshoot initiallly, but realizing, as the action unfolded seamlessly, that there was nothing to improve upon; Janet's submission and the totaally surprising dominance of Stacy--she was really sinister--rang true. The chemistry was there. He zoomed in on Janet's pink, bruised ass, Stacy's dripping fingers emerging from Janet's crotch, and the intense final face to face confrontation with Janet's lips parting slightly and trembling in submission at Stacy's cunt. This was the real stuff, he thought, all captured in one almost uninterrupted 35 minute take. All the prior bondage, the tight leather, the self inflicted punishment, the Bettie as a victim, suddenly made sense. Bettie, the light hearted photographer's model and frisky dancer hadn't taken over Janet; Janet had taken over Betty. With many dark surprises yet to come, he guessed. .

"Cut! Cut! that was sensational" he said.

The two women stood, touching, both near nude; Janet in her minimal maid's costume and Stacy, glorious in her audacious garter belt and hose, both women with exposed moist cunts. Stacy gazed intently into Janet's eyes as she caressed the older woman's punished ass. After a long moment, she blinked and turned to Arnold.

"Was--was that OK? I sorta got carried away.."

"It was fantastic! both of you were fantastic--not quite the Bettie Page of old, though. And Stacy__I'm speechless1"

Janet smiled at him and mouthed a kiss. "I thought Stacy was a magnificent bitch, didn't you? I"d give her a great big kiss, but I'm still--oh dear! in bondage." She wiggled enticingly.

Stacy undid the clamp linking the cuffs, then embraced Janet with a prolonged open mouth kiss as Janet caressed her youthful butt. They both turned to Arnold, smiling. Janet spoke first.

"i thought that we were rivals--how silly of me! But now I'm sure we'll make wonderful music--or films, or whatever--together. Stacy, love, I love this outfit--no panties! Maybe in the next film--Arnold. What?"

"Uh--nothing." he gulped and found himself getting hard as the two continued to caress one another, as he tried for a brisk, businesslike tone: "OK, it's a wrap. Let's get this stuff back in the car--uh, Stacy. You realize that this film, we're going to--I mean it will be in stores, and lots of people that you know will--I mean.."

Stacy smiled sweetly. "no problem, Arnold. I'm twenty one, after all, and I'm really looking forward to sharing--whatever the two of you have going here, if you'll let me. Is that all right, Bettie, I mean Janet--and Arnold?"

Janet and Stacy continued to hug; their eyes locked. Arnold felt left out once more; were the two women sharing some kind of sexual fantasy? They were. *

FOURTEEN

At that moment, Arnold's cell phone rang. It was Sid. Still reeling from the heavy sexual energy between the two women, Arnold paused for a second before answering. "Arnold here. Sid--is that you? What can I..?"

"Arnie! My boy wonder! Lissen, I'm here! In Oakland! At the airport. I

had a project in the city, yeah, but I came up here to see you--and meet Bettie! Where are you now? "

"Uh--we're we're just finishing a shoot. Wow! Good to hear from you! We can--maybe meet you later--I mean, my assistant is here, Bettie's in costume..."

"Screw that later stuff! Now! I got a suite at the Airport Marriot! Come right on down! See you in half an hour. We're on a roll, Arnie--on a roll!"

Arnold turned to the two women, phone still in hand. "You heard that, I guess--he talks kinda loud. So let's do it. No need to change--OK?"

The twenty minute drive down the hill to the airport was quiet, but the mood was almost gleeful; Janet and Stacy, in the back seat, nudging and touching, acknowledging their new and probably kinky bonding, Arnold whistling under his breath. He desperately wanted to screen and cut today's tape; he suspected it might be the best yet, the truest to the classic Bettie Page genre, but still--Sid was so compelling, so hard to resist when he had a full head of steam. And from their prior collaboration, Arnold knew that the man was unerring in his commercial sense. If he had made a special trip, it must be important. (Maybe to meet Bettie, he thought briefly; Sid was scrupulous in his business dealings, but a cocksman to be reckoned with.) He banished the thought, or tried to, and continued to hum, his grin broader and broader as they turned into the hotel parking lot.

Sid's room--a suite, actually--overlooked the bay and the skyline of San Francisco to the west, with wisps of afternoon fog beginning to swirl through the Golden Gate. Sid stood in the doorway, arms open in welcome. He was stocky, of medium height, but somehow stood with the easy assurance that suggested he was the biggest, tallest man in the room. His deep tan contrasted with the salt and pepper trimmed beard and carefully coiffed grey--no, silver--hair. His dark eyes sparkled as he advanced on Arnold, crushing him with a quick hug, then stepping back at arms length to appraise the two women. He wore dark slacks, gleaming black loafers, a black silk turtleneck, and a shimmering grey raw silk blazer.

"Arnie! My man! I got the last two tapes this morning, had to fly up! Dynamite! No more nickel and dime operation--we've got to---and this is Bettie!" He did a wide armed, exaggerated take, disbelief and delight. "Incredible! Holy shit! On film you're so hot, but in person--Whoa!--I'm awestruck! Whoa!"

Janet in her initial but still provocative maid's costume,--she had changed back, pouting just a bit, at Arnold's insistence-- was just a bit flustered by this onslaught. "Why thank you--but I'm just Janet, not really Bettie--this goddamn wig--and this crummy dress.." Something about this intense man stripped away the self-confidence she felt with Arnold.

"And who is this?" Sid turned to Stacy, his eyes hungrily taking in her tight riding breeches and sheer blouse. "Goddamn it, Arnold, here you are in your Goodwill clothes (Arnold was in chinos and a hawaiian shirt, sandals), surrounded by two of the sexiest women in the state! Ladies, I have stories to tell about this young man in LA--he was catnip to the aging queens of pornography--but that's for another time. Hey, just kidding! Come in, come in! Get comfortable, I'll order drinks and stuff to munch on, and we'll talk. Big time stuff. Costs, share of profits, distribution--the whole enchilada."

Stacy spoke up: "Arnold--excuse me. maybe I shouldn't be here for this..."

"Stacy--stick around, unless you get bored. You're part of the team. now, especially after this afternoon. And that weird torture location you found for tomorrow's shoot. OK with you, Sid?" Arnold answered.

"Absolutely!" Sid beamed. "To the team! Champagne's on the way!"

Two hours later, the waiter was clearing away the dinner cart with the leftovers fron the extravagant meal: Chateaubriand, assorted vegetables, remains of the elegant antipasto and salad course and the creme brulee--and three now empty bottles of a very good Cabernet. Cognac and coffee were on the sideboard. The mood was very mellow--OK, maybe just a little bit drunken, Arnold thought to himself, snifter in hand. Stacy was definitly giggly, and seemed to be coming on to him, snuggling close on the chaise lounge. His eyes were on Janet, though; across the suite she seemed to be making her own moves on Sid.

She leaned forward, eyes shining, all attention, as Sid, perhaps just a bit smashed, held forth on the fast track L.A. scene--as seen from the successful smut peddler's perspective, of course. What a bullshit artist, Arnold thought, with rueful respect. But what is Janet doing? He was almost oblivious to Stacy's warm body snuggling ever closer.

Janet was crossing, then recrossing her legs, black silk hose slithering beneath her short maid's skirt, apparently entranced by Sid's tall tales. Arnold was stricken with a sudden thought: had she put her panties back on after the filming? He wasn't quite sure. But Sid, sitting directly across from Janet, now staring, seemed to be entranced, losing the thread of his story about Traci Lords. Was Janet--his Janet--doing a Sharon Stone number on Sid? He didn't want to think about it. Or Stacy's breast, now gently pressing his forearm. To redirect Sid's ogling, he spoke.

"Business. Wonnerful--excuse me--wonderful meal. But we've got to talk business. That's what you're here for, Sid. right? C'mon, Janet, Sid--you too , Stacy." Was his speech a little slurred from all that wine? He hoped not.

"Business--fuck business--that's supposed to be my job--this is party time!" Sid's voice was definitely slurred. "My lawyer will deal with all that kind of shit in the morning."

"Uh, no, I don't think so Sid. You know, this all started out as a --kind of a hobby, or a weird fantasy, or something, and now we're in the middle of some kind of money making monster, something I never had in mind. Bettie--sorry, I mean Janet, you know what I'm saying. For better or worse, we need to figure out how to share any profits, how to pay you for all the overhead and your hard work and your management and agent's fees, and then we've got to get the biggest cut for Janet; without her we've got no 'Return of Bettie Page'."

Janet recrossed her legs, slowly this time. She had Sid's undivided attention. "Oh, I think we can trust Sid on this stuff--he's the businessman.." She beamed at him.

"That's not the point!" Arnold pressed on, slurring just a bit. "Of course we trust him! But we don't know how this stuff works! Sid, are you wanting 10-20-30 percent after overhead, or what? And Janet, you should get--oh, 50 percent anyway--and we should write this down! I don't want to be pushy or anything, or break up the party, but--that's how I feel. Oh, hell; maybe I've had a little too much to drink!" Arnold now aware he was sounding like a CPA, smiled weakly, waved his brandy snifter, and concluded his oration. His mind was now more than half on Janet anyway--her with her damned Bettie wig and flirty maid's costume, very low cut, come to think of it, and all that slow seductive leg crossing.

He realized, belatedly, that he had never seen Janet in a social situation before; it had been a hermetically sealed 'just the two of us' scene since the very beginning of their mutually addictive trip. Film, eat, fuck, fantasize about Bettie, write the scripts, get the props and costumes, film some more, more sex... they had been together in their steamy, exclusive world. Tonight he suddenly saw how little he know about her. Was she a flirt--was she really coming on to Sid? Yes, clearly she was. Was she still some kind of flaky new wave Hindu mystic who just happened to be a masochistic bondage freak? And finally, of course, how did she really feel about him, when the wig came off. And--and this was the toughest question--was he just infatuated, pussy whipped, or--really in love with this strange, gorgeous woman? I've had way too much to drink, he thought. He put down his brandy snifter, gently dislodged Stacy and rose, a bit unsteadily.

"Sid--ladies. Sorry to be a party pooper, but we've got to shoot that dungeon scene tomorrow --about 11 AM. Stacy has arranged the set, and it's the only time we can use it. So I think I should call it a night."

There was a long silence. Sid started to speak, then did not. Janet gave him a long level gaze, then smiled, recrossed her legs one more time, slowly, and got to her feet. She crossed the room and embraced Arnold, kissed his cheek and murmered in his ear. "Don't worry dear, I'm your Bettie. I'm your love. Don't be so uptight." She kissed him on the mouth then; as his hands strayed to her hips, his mind whispered: "I was right! No panty line! No panties!"

"Arnold--why don't you take Stacy home? I know you have to set up the scene and all. I know the location; I'll be there on time. But I'm just in the middle of a discussion with Sid about --other future options. Bettie won't last forever, I don't suppose. Is that OK with everyone? Meanwhile, Sid, maybe I can show you some of the work we did this afternoon. the maid scene."

Arnold tried to manage a graceful exit, his mind reeling with jealousy, bewilderment, anger, and other mixed emotions. He hugged Sid, who didn't quite meet his eyes, and turned to leave, Stacy clinging to his arm. Already he was fantasizing what Janet would be showing Sid.

*

Unlocking his car, he found that the cool fog and night breeze helped to clear his head. "Stacy" he said to the blonde, now unsteady and holding on to him for support with both arms around his neck. "Stacy. Listen to me. You are a lovely and wonderful girl--woman, I mean. You are also drunk, as am I. Also, I've had a very long and strange day, and am very confused about Janet. I am going to take you straight home. I promise not to seduce you and you promise not to seduce me. OK?"

Stacy hugged him, moving her body against his, then arched her neck and looked into his eyes with an exaggerated frown, which turned into a grin. "OK, Arnold, you old straght arrow, you. But--I'm going to get you--and maybe that sexy old Janet, too. You'll see." She giggled and gave him a big wet kiss. "Let's go home."

FIFTEEN

Arnold had not slept very well.' I'm a bit hungover', he told himself, but knew that was not all of it. As he drove slowly to the imposing Victorian home where they were scheduled to film, he realized that he was leery about encountering both Janet and Stacy. As he parked, he saw that Stacy was already there, leaning against her red Miata, dressed almost demurely in a short denim skirt, sandals and a 'free Leonard Peltier' T shirt.

"Good morning, Stacy. I...." He walked toward her, tongue tied.

"Arnold. hey. About last night, I think I owe you an apology. I had too much to drink, and.."

"Stacy--no, maybe I should apologize to you. I was doing some phony virtuous trip, when I was really wanting to be with you--drunk or otherwise.

I was confused--maybe terrified or chickenshit are better terms--and..and... I want you in my life. Janet, all this Bettie stuff--I'm really bewildered. But--don't go away, not just yet. "

Stacy smiled and moved, no, jumped, into his arms. The friendly hug was threatening to turn into something more when a Mercedes limo pulled up at the curb. Janet got out, wearing her Bettie wig and makeup, her alternate costumes over her arm. Was that Sid at the wheel? Arnold couldn't be sure as Janet waved the driver away. Janet was all business, brisk, cheery; there was no opportunity for Arnold to ask about last night. But Janet volunteered:

"Sid and I worked out a contract, I think; his lawyer will fax it to you this afternoon. His concept is, that Bettie made some really raunchy tapes in the 70's, for a private collector, and now they're coming to the market. So some of the stuff we've been doing is--what Bettie Page might have done. And he wants to release our burglar film this week. What do you think?"

"Janet--I'm not sure. I probably have some hangups around my juvenile fantasies over the original Bettie, but maybe you're right. I need to think about it. So, let's do the dungeon scene, and we can talk to Sid later."

As they set up the previously lettered sign over the doorway: "Medieval Torture Dungeon. Admission Free." and moved the lights and camera equipment into the set, Arnold was very aware that Janet had been brisk and almost impersonal; there had been no opportunity for a brief embrace, certainly no chance for the questions racing in his brain: What did you do last night? Did Sid fuck you?

The threesome muscled the cameras and lights into the mansion, down the mahogany staircase, into the basement chamber to which Stacy had the key. The dungeon was just that; panelled in dark wood, with cabinets and racks of whips and chains and a whole array of medieval torture devices displayed a long the walls. And in the center, what appeared to be an authentic rack, a pillory, a whipping post, ond more.

"Awesome! Stacy, how did you find this place?" Arnold said. "Bettie--this is the set you've been waiting for! Costumes, lights--let's do it!" Stacy had been instrumental in setting up this scene. First, she had found the location: medieval torture impedimenta were the secret hobby of one of her father's law partners, now a judge. She had seen the scary display once before; her father had dragged her there 5 or 6 years earlier for an object lesson when he discovered her smoking pot. He hadn't used any of the devices; he hadn't had to. When Arnold and Janet included her in the Bettie project, and especially after viewing the bondage and masochistic scenes that Janet clearly loved, Stacy had thought of the dungeon at once; it took one phone call to the judge, (now a bit senile) to set up the film location.

The judge would view the action, of course, from a small hidden alcove.

Stacy also helped with the costume changes for the fantasy scenes, and more than half of the camera work; Arnold acting as the 'host', could now entrust some moving handheld closeups and POV changes to Stacy. He was beginning to realize how competent she was.