Plaything

The only sound to be heard was the sound of their ragged breathing.

"Wow," Allegra murmured after several long minutes of peace. There was a dreamy kind of quality to her voice.

Parker said again, "You're a hot little bitch, Allegra. You might just be my best fuck ever."

Allegra inched her head around to look at him with a beautiful smile on her face, then her eyes narrowed. "Better than the underwear model?" she asked in a dangerous tone.

"Of course," he told her.

"Better than Cassidy Carter?" she continued.

"She's a bitch," he replied honestly.

"Better than that slut from your boat?" she asked.

Parker grinned. "Much better," he admitted. "She won't even let me fuck her ass."

Allegra wiggled her butt just a bit and cum bubbled out of her asshole once more. "Takes a special kind of girl for that," she teased.

"Oh, yes," he told her.

And so they chatted quietly as they lounged in the afterglow of their orgasms, their bodies relaxing after the physical exertion of their frenzied fuck session, but it would only be a matter of time before they grew restless yet again.

* * *

Eleanor Wentworth was in her quarters arranging some necessary documents for the monthly restocking of the Allegra when she received the call: the girl and her guest were hungry. Eleanor harrumphed, knowing as most of the crew on board did exactly what kind of activity had perked up their appetites. She rose to her feet and headed for the stairs, and when she reached the main deck she found Tamara waiting for her in the galley.

Tamara Dahl was a beautiful young woman of twenty-eight years and the Crew Liaison on board the ship, which meant she orchestrated the smooth operation of the vessel from a logistical standpoint as well as handled much of the land communication. Also, when there were guests on board, she was their personal aide ala an executive assistant. She had long dark red hair and dark green eyes, and her features held a hint of the exotic, the benefits of a slight Brazilian heritage.

"She wants sushi again," Tamara said with an apologetic look. Sushi was the hardest thing to make and, not surprisingly, Allegra Widmore wanted it often.

Eleanor sighed. She was the stewardess for the yacht, which meant she tended to housekeeping duties and also acted as the cook. She was trained in all manner of food preparation, which was essential when dealing with a girl as flighty as Allegra.

"Alright," Eleanor said as she rolled up her sleeves. "There's work to do."

Tamara looked down at the floor. "There's more," she said in a meek voice.

This was not going to be good, Eleanor knew. "What happened?" she asked in a soothing voice.

"The land office called," the young woman revealed. "Allegra neglected to tell us her high school classes start tomorrow."

Eleanor sighed again. "Have you informed the captain?"

Tamara nodded. "He's setting course for Los Angeles now. The crew has been contacted. We'll have to finish the Catalina rounds this coming weekend."

Several members of the crew were enjoying some needed time off on the island of Catalina and had been told they would have at least a couple of days. They would not be happy when they returned to the ship.

"We'll manage," Eleanor said with a hand on Tamara's shoulder. "And it is not our job to look after the schedule of Allegra Widmore beyond the boundaries of the yacht. There are others responsible for that, or herself for that matter. We are responsible for her while she is on board, and on board only."

Tamara smiled and hugged the older woman. The two had always had a very good relationship, very much akin to mother and daughter. Eleanor had no children of her own and Tamara's own mother had passed away many years earlier; both counted on the support of the other, and often.

"I'll deal with the crew," the younger woman said with renewed confidence.

Eleanor replied, "I'll deal with the girl."

Which is how she found herself en route to the sky lounge, where Allegra and her guest, the rather infamous young playboy Parker Wellington, were probably making themselves drinks despite both of their being underage. She stopped just beyond the swinging door entrance and listened to the conversation coming from within.

"Bored," the boy was saying. "B-O-R-E-D."

Allegra scoffed. "What do you mean? We've had a great time today."

"The exception proves the rule, sweetness," he said. "You still have school to occupy your time. I'd have to go to college for more of that and that is certainly not going to happen. I have nothing to occupy my thoughts these days. I'm bored."

There was silence as Allegra considered. "Buy yourself something," she recommended helpfully.

Parker sighed. "There's no fun in just buying whatever I want," he said.

"So you want something you've never had before, is that it? Something that you can't buy for yourself with money?"

Parker shrugged. "Pretty much," he admitted.

Allegra rolled her eyes. "No wonder you're bored," she told him.

And Eleanor used that particular moment to enter the room and inquire about what kinds of sushi the two were expecting, and also to let Allegra Widmore know that the jig was up and she would be going to school the next day. The girl took the news far better than Eleanor had expected she would, actually, so the experience was not too bad.

In fact, the girl did not even throw a single thing.

Part Two: An Unlikely Friendship

It was the first day of her senior year and Danielle Rosen knew nobody, which is what you got when you moved from your small suburban neighborhood in Ventura County to the fast-paced and ritzy surroundings of West Los Angeles and found yourself smack dab in the middle of one of the most prestigious high schools in the city, maybe even the country.

Four periods had passed thus far and the people had been very nice to her, yes, but she still felt overwhelmed and out of place. The lunch period brought more of the same: she moved into the cafeteria and looked around for the emptiest table she could find.

She never found it. "Want to sit here with us, Danielle?" she heard someone say, and she looked around and saw four very pretty girls seated at a nearby table: three blondes and a brunette. There was an open space between two of them.

"Me?" she asked hesitantly. She had always been a little bit timid around new people.

One of the blondes nodded. "Of course, silly," the girl said playfully. She was the one who had spoken before, too. Danielle vaguely recognized her from one of her classes earlier that day. "Come over here and sit with us."

Danielle approached hesitantly: she had no idea what to expect from the students of such a school. There were exaggerated examples of wealthy southern California high school kids sprayed all across movies and television. She feared the worst.

"Hi," the same girl said pleasantly. She had long blonde hair and light gray eyes, which was quite striking up close and very beautiful. It was also obvious her figure was attractive, too. "Your name is Danielle, right? My name is Jennifer Taylor."

"Hi," Danielle answered, relaxing a bit. It didn't seem too bad, actually.

"I'm Susan," said the only brunette of the bunch, seated to her immediate right. She had big brown eyes and a lovely face. "Pleased to meet you, Danielle. You're very pretty."

Danielle blushed. "Thank you," she murmured as her eyes lowered. She always felt awkward receiving compliments, although she managed to receive them quite a bit: long natural blonde hair, bright green eyes, an attractive face and a nice body tended to have that effect.

"What a cutie," said another one of the blondes with a smile on her face. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "She's blushing. I like this one, girls. I'm Jennifer, by the way. Jennifer Paulson. Although the girls just call me Jenny."

"And I'm Jen or Jennifer," said Jennifer Taylor. "It makes it much easier."

Danielle nodded and turned to the last girl, seated to her immediate left, who was not smiling. She did not seem too excited at all, actually, and for a moment Danielle was worried she had done something wrong.

"I'm Hannah," the last girl said without enthusiasm of any kind.

The other girls giggled and Danielle knew she was missing something.

Hannah sighed. "Fine," she said curtly to the other girls before she turned back to Danielle with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. They are all excited because I have to tell you my name. My full name, that is. It's Hannah Montane, which was an awesome name until that freakin' Disney show made that idiotic Cyrus kid a household name. It drives me crazy because everywhere I go I get the same crap about it and these sluts here think it's hilarious."

Danielle smiled soothingly, more due to her own relief than anything else, and said, "I think it's a lovely name." She decided not to mention that Hannah also happened to look a little bit like Hannah Montana with long straight platinum blonde hair and dark soulful eyes.

Hannah nodded once, firmly, and lifted her chin in the air. "It is," she said emphatically. "This is a smart one, girls."

Susan said suddenly and excitedly, "Danielle, before you arrived we were talking about boys. More specifically, we were wondering which Jennifer's boyfriend is hotter: Jen's boyfriend, Dylan, or Jenny's boyfriend, Jeremy."

"She doesn't know either of them," observed Hannah. "How is she supposed to have an opinion?"

Danielle looked over at the two Jennifers and realized neither was too happy about the line of conversation. Hannah and Susan, however, seemed to be really enjoying themselves.

"We'll point out Dylan to her and judge her reaction," Susan suggested, "then point out some other guy who looks like Jeremy and judge that reaction. She can be the deciding vote."

Hannah did not like that idea and her response only confirmed what Danielle had guessed: the blonde was for Jeremy, while the brunette was all about Dylan.

In the end nothing was settled, although Danielle did get a peek at Dylan Adams, who was just as hot as Susan had said. She was curious to see Jeremy, too, but most of her thoughts had nothing to do with either boy: she was happy to have found some decent people at the school on her very first day.

And she was excited to meet more of them.

* * *

There were three things students said about math teacher Irma Vince: she was old, she was mean and she was unabashedly against stylish fashion trends. The last of those things was the only one Irma herself agreed with: she so vehemently opposed improper fashion, which seemed to turn up in spades among the younger generation these days, that she had long ago taken to carrying around detention slips for the sole purpose of enforcing the school's rather lax dress code. It was not unusual for students to relay word of her coming down the hallways of Rembrandt school in a rather remarkable show of unity to protect one another from her merciless eye.

Girls bore the brunt of her censure, of course. She chafed when the cheerleaders wore their uniforms to school. Deplorable! She fumed when girls strutted around in outfits more suited for adult dancers. Despicable! Too much stomach? Detention. Skirt too high? Detention. Too much cleavage? Detention. Thong or bra visible? Detention. These were the things she hated more than anything else in the world.

Which is why when she saw Allegra Widmore seated on a bench with two of her friends, chittering and chattering about this and that, Irma very nearly had an apoplexy.

The girl was wearing a pair of silk pink panties rimmed with lace. How did Irma know? The girl's skirt was so short her panties were clearly visible to anyone, male or female, student or teacher, walking by. Absolutely unpardonable!

She opened her mouth and tried to shriek, but no words came out. She was speechless! She looked around angrily and noticed two male teachers seated at a table nearby: Dale Horton and Douglas Center, literature teachers. Both were staring with seedy little grins in the direction of Allegra Widmore.

"Really!" the old woman squawked and the heads of the men whipped towards her instantly, then lowered sheepishly. She would not regard them further, she decided! Disgraceful for men of their age to be ogling the young girl, no matter how she was dressed. And a student, no less!

"Hmmph!" the woman grunted, and then in a piercing voice, she cried, "Allegra Wid-MORE!"

The girl and her two friends, Kaitlyn White and Blair Alderan, jumped in their seats and looked around, and when the trio saw her glaring at them, stomping towards them with firm resolve engraved in deep grooves on her face, they rolled their eyes and braced for the worst.

And they should brace for it! She was appalled!

"Miss Widmore!" Irma said angrily as she reached them, waving a finger in the air. "That outfit is simply unacceptable. I had hoped after all the troubles you gave me last year would have helped you turn a corner. I can see I was terribly mistaken! Stand up!"

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed. "There's nothing wrong with my outfit, Mrs. Vince," she complained. "It's totally fine, alright? It's Fred Segal."

Vince was not amused and hated lip. "It is not alright," she retorted shrilly. "And I do not know who this Fred Segal person is, but I'm sure he would not approving of what you are wearing!"

"Uh, Fred Segal is a clothing store," the girl said in that sassy way that made it clear she thought Irma was clueless.

"Well, Miss Widmore," Irma said in a cold voice, "I'm not sure you were aware of it in your bubble of teenage ignorance, but your panties were showing!"

The girl grinned. "I know, Mrs. Vince," she whispered. She nodded in the direction of the two male teachers and winked. Her friends giggled again.

Irma was flabbergasted and her jaw fell open. The girl knew she was being watched and did nothing about it. Why, she even encouraged it! She was teasing her adult teachers by showing them her undergarments! Scandalous! When she composed herself and spoke, her voice was replete with scarcely controlled outrage.

"Detention, Miss Widmore," she hissed through gritted teeth, and that wiped the grins off the faces of the girls, "through the end of the week, and if I catch you behaving with such apparent disregard for decency and propriety again, you will be suspended. Is that clear?"

The girl nodded sullenly.

Irma stomped away, feeling better already: perhaps THAT would teach the girl a lesson!

* * *

It had been such a wonderful day Danielle Rosen almost did not want it to end. First, there had been the lunch hour with Jennifer, Jennifer, Susan and Hannah, all of whom were nice girls (if a touch popular elitist). Then she had met two more girls, Katherine and Carolyn, who were beautiful and smart and funny, and very nice. The three were grouped together in biology class for the first round of projects, which would last over a month.

And now she was walking with the principal, who was not the normal kind of principal but rather an attractive woman named Addison Cross. She could not have been older than thirty-five and was really quite lovely with long brown hair, cool blue eyes and gorgeous features.

"Mister Baines is our Assistant Dean of Students," the woman was saying as they walked. It was after school and Danielle had met with the principal for the first time in a pre-scheduled meeting. "He also acts, however, as an informal counselor for the students. He is available to talk about anything you wish to talk about, if you need him."

They entered one of the classroom buildings and stopped before the first door on the left. The principal knocked and waited for response, and as she did so she turned to Danielle.

"I'm very happy you've joined us, Danielle," she said with a smile.

The door opened to reveal a tall man with a thin beard and a muscular frame standing behind it. He smiled. Danielle wondered fleetingly if all administrators were as attractive as the two displayed before her.

"Hello, ladies," he said amiably. Danielle noticed there were a few students in desks inside the class behind him, which was strange since school was over.

"Milo," the principal said with a nod, "this is Danielle Rosen. Danielle, this is Milo Baines, our Assistant Dean. Milo, I leave her in your very capable hands."

"Thank you, Addison," he said, and then turned all his attention to Danielle as the principal walked away. "Come on in and let's have a chat, shall we?"

* * *

Detention was the biggest waste of time ever.

Allegra Widmore was growing restless and it had only been fifteen minutes. She was supposed to remain there for an hour, which would be agonizing. How she was supposed to manage, she had no idea, especially considering cell phones and sidekicks and technology of any kind were not allowed. What should we give to be back on her boat . . .

She did not plan on going to college. Her mother and her father-in-law were trying to impress upon her the value of education, which was just a little hypocritical as neither one ofthemhad gone to college and they had done just fine. But graduation from high school was a trust fund requirement, which meant she had to wither away in class and (sometimes) in detention. It was incredibly beneath her. She did not pay one iota of attention to anything or anyone.

That is, until Mister Baines rose from his seat and answered the knock on the door, and ushered into the room a delectable little piece of ass named Danielle something-or-other. Allegra was not really paying attention to the name as the teacher introduced the girl: she was admiring the girl's tight body and gorgeous face, and wondering if she might be persuaded to experiment.

"This is the detention group, Danielle," the teacher said in a voice that spoke of vast amusement, waving a hand at the crowd. There were nineteen students at the desks. "Now I know what you're asking: how do so many students wind up in detention on the first day?"

The girl was quite obviously shy, which intrigued Allegra further, and shook her head. "No, sir," she replied timidly.

Mister Baines grinned. "Class?" he asked. "How many of you fell afoul of our dear Lady Vince today?"

The students groaned as one collective voice and sixteen of them raised their hands. Allegra was surprised one teacher had given so many detentions on the first day, but did not dwell on the sensation: the girl occupied her thoughts.

"This is Danielle Rosen, people," the teacher continued with a nod. "She is new to the school and has not yet had the pleasure of meeting our resident fashion policewoman. Would anyone like to give her the 4-1-1?"

Sufficed to say Allegra was not usually the type of girl to get involved in class. She rarely studied and thus got average-to-poor grades, but did not care about school in any event because (as stated) her family was rich, she was beautiful and that was what was important. She would do enough to graduate and nothing more. But the opportunity to get to know the shy and timid and therefore manipulatable girl before her, coupled with a growing sense of a brilliant idea in the back of her mind, caused her to raise her hand.

It was obvious she was not what Mister Baines had expected. "Miss Widmore," he said with a mixture of confusion and amusement on his face. "Are you actually volunteering for something that doesn't involve personal gain?"

Allegra smiled. "Yes, Mister Baines," she said sweetly.

The man nodded, impressed, then grinned. "Well, good for you," he said, "because you win the grand prize. Pack up your things, Allegra, and escort Danielle back to her car. You can fill her in on what to wear (or more fittingly in your case, I suppose, on what not to wear) on the way."

And in that moment Danielle Rosen and Allegra Widmore made eye contact for the first time, beautiful bright greens with beautiful bright blues, and while both of the girls smiled pleasantly at one another, the thoughts of the former were reflective of the expression, while the thoughts of the latter were quite devious and wicked, and deliciously dirty.