Lavender Blue Panties Ch. 03

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Wife replaces her panties before the wheels fall off.
2.6k words
3.96
40.8k
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Part 3 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 11/02/2015
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Saintosos
Saintosos
53 Followers

Something had changed in Steve's elemental persona since Julia had left him in the kitchen that morning. As she studied the situation, her hauteur lifted momentarily.

"What's gotten into you, Steve?" she asked cautiously, examining his face to detect any nuance that would revive her advantage.

Clearly a degree of existential momentum had shifted to Steve at some point during the day. But she could not assess the new balances of power sufficiently to dash boldly forward hoping to crush his resistance as usual.

Dr. Julia Harvey, adultress and malfeasant extraordinaire, enforced zero tolerance when forced to associate with men like her husband who settled for the mean rather than take unjustifiable risks in seeking to impress the gamblers in their professions.

Before she could insist that Steve account for his newly discovered aplomb, her cell vibrated and she could see that Jeffery Alexander was the caller. She abruptly retreated to the kitchen as she put the cell to her ear and answered.

Without preamble Jeffery began to unload his rapidly mushrooming troubles. Julia sucked in her breath contemptuously and slapped him through the phone.

"Get hold of yourself, Jeff!," she commanded. He fell silent and she softened her voice as she seized the initiative.

"Why are you hiding in the kitchen," Steve called to her from the livingroom, his light mood deceptive. "It would be in your best interests to get back in here and talk to your husband."

Julia ignored Steve's interruption as she began to

perceive the implications of Jeffery's plight.

"It's ten minutes 'til six, Jeff," she warned almost whispering.

They must not fail to please their benefactors in the the progressive scheme to build a world class medical center and research institute. Of course if in their zealous public service they enriched themselves, such was fate.

In any event, she counseled sagely, they must not jeopardize their one chance to grab the gold ring.

"Things here at the office are on their way to hell, Jules, and I can forget about having a home," Jeffery whimpered. "There's no way I can get away from my attorneys before eight o'clock, Jules."

"Are you going wimpy on me, Jeff?" she asked with cold overtones.

After a long pause, Julia had calculated a tactical course of action.

"We can't be an hour late for the meeting at the farm," she answered thoughtfully. "So! Our only option is for me go alone and meet them as they have almost demanded."

"No!" Jeffery responded. "That's foolhardy."

Jeffery considered the unscheduled nature of the meeting at the Miles Farm to be a cause for the ultimate in caution. Though straining his credulity with all his might, Jeffery could not warm to persons Julia considered to be her "benefactors."

Julia's assiduous lover could qualify as a replacement for her husband, but, incredibly, he had not cleared all of the hurdles in seizing a fortune. He could not offer a cogent statement to support his persistent doubts about the global financiers attempting to mastermind the building of the most ambitious public service edifice since The Garden of Eden. But he had intended to drive to a wooded area along Miles Road about a mile from the farm house and proceed on foot to make a covert inspection of the scene inside and outside the house.

Derisive laughter erupted from Julia as Jeffery stated his reasons for his discomfort with the meeting. Of course, Jeffery, weary from an afternoon of threats and belligerence, withdrew his objections to her going to the meeting alone.

"James Bond you are not!" Julia hooted. "If you had reason to believe we were dealing with killer racketeers, Jeff, you should have warned before we signed on to their scheme."

"Yeah! I know," Jeffery agreed, "it's a little late to think about that now."

"I consider it worth the risk, Jeff," she said after awhile. "I want that money, Jeff!"

"Okay! Do what you think best, Jules," he sighed. "Sorry! I've got to go now but I'll get out there as soon as I can. Okay?"

"I suppose it will have to be okay," she said, her voice low and without conviction. Then she forced a flare of confidence and assured him that, "We're acting like sophomores planning our first orgy."

With just a hint of bravado, she told him that they soon would be grinning into their mai tais somewhere on a peaceful Pacific beach while they counted collective $10 million. She paused for effect, but Jeffery remained silent.

"Cheer up!" she commanded. "All is well, and we're about to be rich."

As she ended the exchange with an effort to break Jeffery out of his defeatist mood, the line went dead. Jeffery was no longer there, and she had only a brief moment to turn her attention to an analysis of her husband's antagonistic behavior.

Defanging this particular Lion King in his own recliner should pose no problem. She glanced at her watch. She had only seconds to deflate her husband's renewed ego. It was now 6:07. She turned on her heel and strode with determination from the kitchen through the diningroom and into the livingroom.

Steve was not in his recliner and the TV and table lamps were off. She shouted up the stairs that she wanted him to come down to hear her parting remarks; but Steve was not in the house.

Weathering an unaccustomed moment of frustration, she retrieved her Mercedes keys from her purse, tucked the purse under her arm and literally trotted to the driveway. As she slid into the Mercedes, she noted that Steve's pickup was missing.

As she eased the Mercedes out of the driveway into the street, Julia calculated that she had just enough time to stop at Victoria's Secret in the mall and still get to the Miles farm house by the specified time.

Replacing the missing lavender blue panties was mandatory. Steve was weak, but she would not seek to better herself at this time. She must delay until she and Jeffery Alexander could score in the fantastic opportunity presented by their service on the hospital board.

Brilliance seldom makes much difference in the real world. For instance, Dr. Julia Harvey could command $2500 for a lecture at a Las Vegas convention, but she could not divine the fact that her husband, Steve, was tailing her without making much of an effort at deception.

Steve watched as Julia eased the Mercedes into a parking space 50 feet from the north entrance to the mall and entered the massive business center on the run. He Parked a few rows farther away from the entrance and relaxed to await her return.

Steve knew without resorting to reason or logic that his wife was patronizing Victoria's Secret.

This knowledge had a mixed effect on the devastated husband of a most arrogant and disrespectful wife.

Soon she returned carrying a small package. Steve cranked up his Ford 250 and idled as she slid under the wheel of the Mercedes and soon accelerated onto the southbound Interstate. Steve was close behind her making no effort to avoid detection.

In the Mercedes, however, Julia was beginning to second guess herself. What did she know about her rich but strange co-conspirators? Only that they have money and have promised her $5 million for her vote on the three-seat hospital board.

"I could be consorting with wild dogs in a snake pit for all I know," she muttered, initiating a belated analysis of the four swarthy individuals that she had met and could identify.

Exit 219 was coming up fast. Slowing to make the left turn off the exit ramp onto the country road, she was aware of two sets of headlights behind her. This road was designated on the county map as only a four digit number, but two miles east of the Interstate, Miles Road would intersect the county road.

"I think the Miles farm house is about half a mile north on Miles Road from the intersection with the county Road. She noted that the area featured many

acres of stands of trees and a substantial percentage of the land had not been cleared of shrubs and wild berry briars.

Suddenly her adrenal gland began to work overtime when she saw the small sign located at the intersection with Miles Road. Slowing to a walking pace, she hesitated to make the turn, knowing that the turn in for the Miles farm house would be only a few hundred feet in front of her.

In the rear view mirror, she saw headlights a quarter of a mile behind her, but the glare suddenly was extinguished as she watched. She dismissed the thought of anyone behind her as she turned in to Miles Road and immediately saw the entry road for the farm house.

Now two operational problems faced her. Entry from the road was blocked by a metal gate. And the approach to the house was unpaved and obviously sloppy with recently churned mud.

Near the front of the house, though shrouded in the gloom of night, she could discern the outline and form of five cars, all black and elongated like Limos. Before she could react, the beam of a mag light blinded her, coming from the side through the diver's door glass.

"Step out of the car, please," a voice devoid of inflection instructed.

As Julia stepped away from the Mercedes, she immediately sank ankle deep into the mud.

"Sorry about that," the man mumbled as he methodically ran his hands over her body and down the outer surface of her legs, ending only when he ha completed the indignity of massaging her inner thighs under her skirt.

"She's clean," he announced to someone in the darkness beyond the gate. "No weapons and no wires."

Within seconds she had passed the gate and waded through the mud to the porch. As she climbed the three steps, a woman opened the front door illuminating Julia with the bright light from within the house.

"Take off your shoes and hose!" the woman ordered. "We're leasing this dump and I don't want to pay to clean up your mess."

Julia recognized the whisky voice. Her contact woman wasn't as young as Julia had guessed.

Julia kicked off her ruined $195 formal strap ons and peeled down her thigh highs with no thought of modesty. She was beginning to feel the cold night air and spring wetness and the fire in the fireplace beckoned her.

Inside she could see half a dozen men of varying ages and almost as many women, all seated randomly about the room on a variety of chairs and couches. All of the women were young, though she realized age was not relevant. The solemn expressionless faces turned toward her as she stopped in front of the fireplace, thankful for the warmth.

Whisky Voice assumed a position in the center of the room and raised her arms. When all were silent, she consulted a loose leaf folder and glanced purposefully around the room.

"Jeff Alexander!" she intoned authoritatively. "Where's Mr. Alexander?"

"Who's Alexander?" a man leaning against the back wall asked lazily.

"He's one of the three hospital board votes," Whisky Voice answered.

"Since he's one of the four essential keys to unlocking this project," the man at the wall continued, "shouldn't he be here?"

"That is correct, Mr. A," Whisky Voice agreed. "Dr.Julia Harvey! Are you present?"

"I'm Dr. Harvey," Julia responded. "Jeff Alexander was delayed by last minute critical business, but he told me that he would be here by eight o'clock."

"Damn well better get his butt here," a dark featured man with a barrel chest and massive arms declared ominously.

"James Galway, the hospital district directing administrator, and Welch Holcomb, the district's attorney, are present," Whisky Voice informed the assembly as she searched the room and ended with, "As is Ms Teri Hollycroft, the district's CFO.

"We can't wait for Alexander," the monster man warned. "It's too risky to be this exposed and all in one room."

At that precise moment the front door opened with a frightening thrust. Wind driven torrential rain flooded the entryway as six large men wearing identical combat gear charged into the room waving small automatic weapons.

Whisky Voice issued what could only be described as a "Primal Scream." Her anxiety was abbreviated by the slap of a gun across her face. She slumped to floor clawing at her face as blood saturated her blouse and sprayed the throw rug.

Team work was obvious as the leader directed with nods and hand signals. Whisky Voice was lifted onto a shoulder and carried from the room on the double.

Acting in tandem, two of the assault team dragged the man who had been leaning against the back wall to the center of the room. The team leader gripped the man's chin and stared into his eyes.

"Your syndicate owes us $52 mil from the last October's luxury armament sale," the team leader hissed. "You got that much on you?"

The man struggled only to invite a smashing blow across his nose with the same gun barrel that felled Whisky Voice. Again a slight nod led to the man being dragged from the room.

Silence screamed savagely for 90 seconds after the marauders left the room and closed the door.

Julia could hear her heart pounding against the walls of her chest. But she was not aware of the ape like squeals emanating from her throat until a woman slapped her repeatedly.

Only moments after the woman had quelled her terrifying manic bursts of savage energy, Julia realized that her jeopardy was continuing. Her life threatening ordeal had not ended with the withdrawal of the paramilitary team.

Julia watched as the eleven survivors of the attack by the rival mob filed out the door. Only then did she realize that she and the hospital officials were to be eliminated.

"Absolutely not!" a man of Mediterranean appearance answered a question posed by the woman who had slapped Julia. "We can't leave these officials of the hospital district behind to talk to the FBI and the SEC and the Treasury people."

"Then this project is off the table? Right?" the woman asked, persisting in underlining the man's degree of determination.

"Ended! Kaput! Off the table!" the man echoed with a humorless laugh.

Snuff them!

Right here in the house?

Can you recommend a better place?

Okay! Wait in the car, the woman advised. She would be right with him.

It happened without delay. Julia saw two muzzle flashes immediately after the man walked out of the house and closed the door.

Fortunately, Julia was not aware as the woman methodically emptied her Ruger into the hospital district officials, all of of whom had conspired with the shooter's syndicate to defraud every level of government and tax paying society.

Dr. Julia Harvey felt nothing, though her mind closed all portals. The woman had pumped two 9 mm rounds into Julia's chest, and by all that is rational or logical, Julia should have been a fleeting memory from that point in time.

But she wasn't.

Dr.Julia Harvey kept a grim choke hold on a slim thread of life, two gaping holes in her back not withstanding.

Undoubtedly she was a survivor. Maybe her credentials as a model citizen were forever tarnished; but, beyond question, she was a survivor.

Outside the farm house, the woman who had performed as her executioner was confiscating the new lavender blue panties she had purchased at the mall on her way to her execution.

End Ch. 3

TO BE CONCLUDED

Saintosos
Saintosos
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  • COMMENTS
25 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
If Only!

If only these comments could be seen at the start - then people might be saved from reading this garbage.

Please, Lit, introduce a ZERO rating for stuff lke this.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
lame attempt at pretentious English

Someone needs to go back to high school and revisit basic English composition.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
This Story Doesn't Belong Here

This is more of a crime thriller, or a mob type story. As such it is out of place. I gave a low rating.

chytownchytownover 8 years ago
Good Read****

It's different and very entertaining . Thanks for sharing.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago
Almost...

Almost impossible to read.

Totally impossible to follow.

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