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Who Wrote the Song - Part 3 |
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By Margo Perry
“For the second time, you’ve ripped something from me. This was to be an award grabbing interview and you’ve fucked that up. Well, we’ve got to come to some agreement. Something that will make me feel better.”
Jack followed Mercedes into the elevator, her condemnatory words running non-stop through his head. Without Maggie’s cooperation, she wouldn’t be able to prove that he stole the song, at least not in a court of law. But Mercedes’ bailiwick was not a courtroom, it was a talk show set with a viewing audience of twelve million. In this arena she was queen. Here, she could paint him as a man who had taken brutal advantage of her in their youth and who was now taking criminal advantage of his dear friend and associate, Michael. The sell would be easy because all facts were true and his career, as he knew it, would be over. It was all in her hands.
They rode the forty-six floors to Jack’s condo in grim silence. Mercedes stood against the back wall, staring straight ahead at the panel of buttons. Jack’s eyes seemed fixed on the profile of her lovely face, but all he really saw were her breasts. Thrusting out from her chest with gravity defying proportions, they captured and held his gaze. The lacy, flesh-coloured bra that held them up was clearly outlined beneath her cream-coloured blouse, making both their size and presence impossible to ignore. Nostalgia and horniness swept over him like a warm, sultry breeze. She was reminding him of Mercy, the beautiful and innocent girl who had loved and trusted him. The girl whose innocence he had stolen so many years ago. Jack fought hard not to swallow too loudly as his throat ran dry and his cock twitched inside his pants. He shuffled from one foot to the other, trying hard to discourage the hard-on that was now burgeoning out of control, reacting to her breasts even more boldly than it had when he was a teenager.
Suddenly, Mercedes turned her head toward him. Jack felt guilty and ashamed, like a peeping Tom caught in the act. He struggled to hold her gaze, knowing that if he lost control for one second, his eyes would automatically fixate on her irresistible bosom.
“Do you always stare at women like that?”
“Sorry,” Jack said, grateful that the elevator had eased to a stop.
The doors slid quietly open and he resisted the urge to bolt past Mercedes and into the safety of the hallway. The tension between them had become palpable and Jack was having trouble breathing. After managing to escape both Mercedes and his own guilt-ridden past for all these years, here he was escorting her down the hall, into his apartment and back into his life. But in spite of the embarrassment and anxiety he was suffering, poor Jack was more excited and aroused by the sight of her breasts than he’d ever been and that made him feel weak and completely vulnerable. He felt too close to her, as if time had turned on itself, creating the illusion of a continuity that didn’t exist. The feelings that had propelled him toward her years ago had grown and morphed into something larger than he could neither recognize or handle. Drawn to her like a magnet, he stayed just far enough behind her to sneak clandestine peeks at her breasts as they swayed beneath the soft fabric of her coat. When they reached his apartment, he stepped briskly forward to card it open, step inside and turn on the lights.
“Come on in,” he said, holding open the door.
As Mercedes stepped inside, Jack gestured toward the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.
“How do you like the view?” he asked.
He always looked forward to those first few moments when new guests gushed over his panoramic view. To the north, lights glittered from a cluster of towering high-rises. To the west, pinpoints of lights dotted a marina, the clang and tinkle of rigging against masts drifting lazily through the night air. Spreading south, the dark open lake was a velvet carpet leading to the sparsely lit and thinly populated islands beyond.
Without so much as a glance, Mercedes shrugged off her coat and tossed it onto the nearest sofa, “I have to make a phone call,” she said, flatly.
“Certainly,” Jack said. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”
Frustration and disappointment drove him toward the privacy of his bedroom. Couldn’t she even have checked out the view to be polite? He took off his overcoat, tossed it on his bed, beside a small stack of folded laundry, and went into his bathroom. He shut the door, lowered the toilet cover and sat with his head in his hands. Did she know what she was doing to him, shrugging out of her coat like that? The slow-motion picture wouldn’t leave his mind.
Her shoulder rolls back and her coat begins to slide, falling open and exposing the stretched fabric of her diaphanous blouse. As she pulls her arm from the sleeve, the profile of her breast is worthy of Mount Rushmore. The coat falls from her other arm and her breasts crest and wane, as if in water. Even the gesture of tossing the coat on the sofa makes her breasts sway with an irresistibly seductive allure.
The image filled Jack’s mind, leaving no room for rational thought. As he replayed the scene over and over in his mind, all he could hear was that relentless voice running on and on … “You know you want her!” And then the other side of his brain challenging him:
Pull yourself together! Mercedes Cambridge is in your living room, waiting to confront you. You have no place to hide, so get on with it.
Jack stood up, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. His back ached with fatigue. He dried his face slowly, taking deep breaths, worrying about stress and his heart.
I’ll get through whatever this is and get on with my life. Let her do her worst. I’ll survive and in the meantime, I’ll enjoy her tits.
He hung up his towel and looked in the mirror, surprised and relieved at how normal and capable he looked. Encouraged, he left the bathroom and started back towards Mercedes, ready to face whatever she had planned for him.
Mercedes was staring out at the lake when Jack returned to the living room.
“I just checked in with my service. The network is about to sue you, Michael and Maggie for breaking your contracts to appear. If I support their cause, I’ll be left out of it. If I don’t, I’ll be sued right along with you.”
“Well, we know what you’re going to do,” Jack snapped.
Mercedes turned slowly to face Jack. Standing over six feet in her heels, she walked deliberately toward him with her hips swaying seductively and her huge tits shifting gently beneath her blouse. Her steely countenance loomed ever more largely as she closed in on him.
“You have no idea what I’d do. But you’ve told me exactly what you’d do if you were in my position, eh, Jack? Throw you to the wolves, watch my audience eat you alive and then just go on with my life.” She was standing uncomfortably close, her gaze burning into him mercilessly. The peaks of her breasts were dangerously close, almost brushing against his chest. Jack could feel perspiration breaking out across his brow.
Mercedes held Jack there for what seemed like forever and then moved slightly closer, just enough to make her tits rub against his chest. Jack’s cock stiffened in his pants and the narrowing of Mercedes’ eyes told him that she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Just as he was about to give in to temptation, take her in his arms and smother her with kisses, she turned, walked over to the fireplace and sat in Jack’s chair.
It was overstuffed and large, unique in the midst of his sleek modern custom-made furnishings and design.
“Have a seat,” she said, crossing her legs and gesturing vaguely, as if the floor was all the seat he deserved.
Jack nodded dumbly and lowered himself onto the hassock in front of her feet. It was too low for his long legs, but he didn’t mind. After what he had done to her, he knew he deserved much worse than he was getting … at least, so far.
“I owe you more than an apology,” he said, harnessing all his courage. “I need to explain what happened when . . .”
“Too late, Jack,” Mercedes interrupted. “I know why you took my virginity and then hung me out to dry. To consolidate a bet. Because it was expedient. Once you’d had me, you negotiated your promises of love and commitment into something that better served your image as a great jock. Did you fuck anybody else that night, Jack? I don’t care. I’m just curious.”
“Of course not!” Jack spouted, indignantly.
“I believe you, Jacko.”
While her disdain cut Jack to the quick, he still found himself mesmerized by the rise and fall of her towering breasts. He found her domineering attitude arousing and a warmth flooded his body, making his pulse quicken and his already tingling cock surge and grow. He leaned over in an attempt to hide his thick and much too obvious hard-on, but she wasn’t finished with him yet. She kicked off her shoes and stood, slowly stretching her arms above her head. The movement was so sensuous, her body so close to his, that Jack began to tremble.
She’s trying to drive me insane … How will I stand it?
“Get me a drink, Jack,” she cooed. “I’m too tense. I need to make myself more comfortable.”
“What would you like?” Jack asked, as she started across the room.
“The first drink you ever made me,” she said, chuckling as she headed in the direction of Jack’s private quarters.
Now, what? Where does she think she’s going? Should I follow her? And do what? Make the drinks!
Jack headed over to the bar tucked away in one corner of the large room. He grabbed his favourite Scotch, a handful of ice cubes and poured a triple into two large brandy snifters. He sighed at the memory of how he’d come to owe Mercedes this monstrosity.
They’d gone to Jack’s after school to do their homework together. Sitting beside her at the kitchen table had been torture for Jack. She’d smelled like vanilla and her huge breasts were too close to his arm, her thighs too close to his thighs. When they were done, he offered her a drink. Foolish since neither of them drank, but it was his mad attempt to keep her with him longer. It felt grown-up, somehow.
He’d grabbed a bottle and was filling the two fanciest wine glasses he could find, when his father arrived. He didn’t yell at Jack for touching his booze. Worse. He laughed and gave them both a lesson on drinks and responsibility. He transferred the liquor into two large brandy snifters, added some ice and then topped them generously with soda. He poured cokes for both Jack and Mercy and thanked them for the scotch and sodas, telling them that he and the missus would enjoy them immensely. Jack had been devastated when Mercy laughed along with his dad. He wanted her to be laughing with him. Not at him. And without even touching their drinks, he’d insisted on walking Mercy home.
When they got to her house, she’d said, “I’ll collect that drink when I’m old enough,” and had run into the house. Jack was left feeling less than adequate, a feeling that had characterized too many moments in his young life.
“I’m back,” Mercedes said, jolting Jack out of his reverie.
She was wearing one of Jack’s old football shirts. Falling almost to her knees, it was so worn from years of washings that he could see her bra, matching panties and tawny radiant skin right through it. She was bare legged and barefoot and Jack felt as though he hadn’t had a woman since the day he took her virginity. Now she’d taken something from him, namely his mind, body and soul, leaving him powerless in the bargain. He had no idea what she was up to, but it certainly had to do with humiliating him. She’d invaded the privacy of his bedroom and changed into a shirt that she’d swiped from his laundry pile, proving that, even within the confines of his own home, she was the one in control.
“That’s better,” she said, extending her arms to the side and twirling in a circle.
“Glad you’re comfy,” Jack said.
This time, she chose the sofa to sit on. He looked at her, lounging on his couch, her body the picture of cat-like sensuality. But her face was a mask of changing expressions: warm to cold, angry to forgiving, hopeful to disappointed. She waved for her drink, and Jack hurried to give it to her. Her long legs were crossed at the ankles, her knees lazily open. It was a childish posture, but her breasts swung heavily as she leaned forward for her drink and her legs spread even wider. The effect was irresistibly bawdy. Jack thought he was going to lose his mind, so badly did he want to fall to his knees, crawl between hers and offer himself for her satisfaction. Mercedes sipped her drink and then set the glass on the floor. Sighing, she lounged sideways, long legs stretched out, her breasts resting one on the other to create a long and lovely line of cleavage.
“Good mix,” she said, smiling. “At least your father managed to teach you something. I wonder what he’d say if he knew how you treated me? Never mind, when he threw you out, you’d of made a great bartender. You still might.”
Don’t take the bait … she’s trying to break you …
Jack looked around for somewhere to sit, but every chair was too far away and, while there was some room on the sofa, he dared not crowd her. So, he just stood there. Mercedes suddenly swung her legs back over the side, got up and rushed past Jack, her huge breasts brushing his arm as she went. Jack spun around to watch her dance across the room.
Now, where is she going? Damn, she’s infuriating!
Jack realized that the woman was leading him around by the nose. Every time she stage-managed them to another spot, he experienced a further loss of control, but he had no choice, but to follow her lead. She was a revolving door of personalities and emotions and Jack didn’t know which one of her would show up next. He was caught up in an incendiary evolution and he didn’t know if or how he could avoid getting very burned. He knew at least to carry the drinks, as he ogled her tight ass twitching its seductive way across the room.
I wonder if she’s kept up her dance classes. Sure looks like she has.
Mercedes wandered back to Jack’s favourite chair and sat, her legs curled beneath her. As Jack approached, she indicated the side table for the drinks and the ottoman for him. It had been so uncomfortable previously that, this time, he chose the floor. He lowered himself clumsily to sit at her feet, legs crossed like some inept yogi. Mercedes smirked down at Jack and then twisted sharply to pick up his drink. Her breasts bounced and jiggled, as Jack stared helplessly.
“Here,” she said, presenting his glass and her pendulous breasts.
His cock lurched and grew.
“You’d be disgusting, if you weren’t so pathetic,” Mercedes said, gazing directly at his crotch.
Jack could feel nothing, but lust. Besides, the look of disgust on her face was severely compromised by the way she flounced, half-uncrossing her legs, positioning one to swing to and fro flirtatiously. And then her face melted, softened into something innocent and sweet. An expression he remembered from long ago, when they’d gaze at the stars and her eyes would dampen at the wonder and glory of it all.
“Let’s see, Jack, what did you get out of our relationship back in the day? One, my precious cherry. Two, I dragged your lazy self from a C to an A+ grade average. You wouldn’t have made it to that Ivy League college of yours were it not for me. Not that it did you a bit of good.” She gulped her drink, slamming the glass down on the end table like she’d just managed a dose of particularly nasty medicine. “What did I get out of it?” she continued, “I, too, received an education. I learned what it’s like to be treated like a whore. A whore too stupid to even charge for her services.”
“No,” Jack screamed. “I may be at the bottom of your troubles with the network, but back then, I loved you Mercedes. I was callous. Okay, cowardly, and it’s cost me. I’ve never felt the same about anyone since.”
“Words, Jack, but there’s a bright side. I became a very good pro. After you, I always made sure to get a whole lot more than I gave.”
“Don’t say that. You’re better than that,” Jack shouted again. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was in the fight of his life. Adrenaline flooded his body. “I’m sorry, Merce,” he cried. He hadn’t called her that since he’d made love to her all those years ago.
“Shut up, Jack. You killed Merce,” she said.
She picked up her drink and headed for the bar. Jack’s legs and back were stiff from sitting on the floor, but he struggled to his feet, grateful not to have to do so under Mercedes critical eye.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Jack asked, meaning it. He would’ve done anything to regain her trust because he wanted her now more than he ever had.
“You introduced me to sexual pleasure and then stole it from me. I want it back. Now, take off your clothes. Find some way to please me. You owe me that much.”
The terror Jack felt was overwhelmed by a sense of hope and horniness. He began to undress, taking off his suit jacket and tie as he watched her pour her drink down the sink. He felt humbled. Humiliated. He watched her tits rise, as she lifted a bottle of water to her lips, bending her back archly to drink lustily from the bottle. She then studied and chose a rare bottle of red wine, pouring a glass, tasting thoughtfully, her body positioned to afford Jack the most titillating view of her tits. Jack suddenly realized that he was down to his boxers and socks and that his cock was obscenely engorged and as long and thick as he’d ever seen it. His face flushed deep red and he coughed self-consciously.
“You look ridiculous in those socks,“ she said, stripping off his shirt as she approached. “You made me happy once. Do you think you could manage it again?”
She was beauty walking with her creamy underwear that set off her breasts, tiny waist, and round hips to perfection, but the pressure Jack felt was totally debilitating. Terror struck Jack and his once proud cock relaxed into a soft, fleshy pulp. Mercedes slid gracefully to the floor, looking up at Jack as she went. As he looked down at her, his mind blew into a thousand fragments. Her profoundly large breasts and the endless cleavage spilling out of her bra pulled him down into a vortex of desire. He realized that he would do anything to have her, not just in the moment, but forever. Just as they’d so long ago planned. His cock grew, thickened and leaked with helpless want. He dropped to his knees and stretched out beside her. He didn’t have to think. How many nights had he dreamed of the opportunity to make love to her again? Masturbated to dreams of this very moment? And he knew that he’d have to win her back. His life depended on it.
“I do love you. Forgive me. Please, Mercy.”
Jack covered her body and her lips with his own, stemming words that would have surely come between them. He ran his tongue over her lips, slowly, top and bottom. He gloried in the feel of her breasts pressing soft and spongy between them. He placed a leg between her own, pressing his knee into her pussy. It was warm and moist. Hopeful. He could feel her squirming, resisting his demand for love, but he pressed on. He nibbled her earlobes, the flesh behind them. Felt her shiver as he licked her neck with feathery strokes of his hot tongue. He eased away from her, just far enough for him to see, worship and caress every inch of her beasts.
“I love them so much,” he whispered.
“You’ve done it, you bastard,” Mercy groaned.
She leaned over him. Jack could feel her tits long before he could feel her lips and he swooned, as she kissed him deeply and wetly. He could feel her passion rising from its prison of distrust. Like the phoenix, Mercy was being reborn. Suddenly she was all over him. Jack felt her lips on one nipple, her finger tugging at the other.
“Be careful,” he said, as an erotic surge threatened to overtake him.
“Don’t you dare come,” Mercy said, “we’ve only just begun.”
Jack submitted. He lay on his back, lost in pleasure that he’d never felt before. The hands that fondled his balls were expert hands. The warm, wet mouth that captured his cock was a heaven that he never wanted to leave. She swirled her tongue around it and it tingled and grew to lengths he’d never experienced. The harder he got, the more sensitive and she seemed to know just how far to drive him. She circled his sweet spot with such finesse that he stretched his legs and feet, holding his breath, desperate not to fall over the cliff.
“Ready?” she asked, as she climbed over him.
Jack felt like he had entered another dimension where pleasure was heightened beyond anything he’d ever experienced. The feel of her pussy as she lowered herself over him was a call to ownership.
“Take me,” Jack said, “make me yours.”
It wasn’t just that she was fucking him, she was enslaving him and he was glad. She moved up and down and around with the strength of an Olympic athlete and the expertise of a madam. She sat low and the cheeks of her ass tantalized his balls as her naughty finger slipped behind her to press and tease his prostate.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Jack said, “don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
She bent over him, her breasts weighing heavily on him, as she began to ride him furiously.
Don’t you ever hurt me again …I won’t. Promise …I love you, Jack …I love you, Mercy …I love you, Mercedes …Fuck …I’m coming, Jack …Oh, Merce …Ooooooo …
They lost words as their orgasmic worlds collided and burned with meteoric splendour. They lay side by side, hand in hand, in the spent aftermath.
“So, where do we go from here?” Jack asked, finally.
“You don’t go anywhere,” she said, stroking him, as he toyed with her nipple. “You just keep giving me pleasure. I’ll make a real man out of you, yet,” she laughed. “We’ll be a force to reckon with.”
“Yes, please, make me your man. Real pleasure comes only through you,” Jack said. “I can’t ever lose you again.”
She enveloped his body with her own, throwing one dancer’s leg over his thigh, gathering him in arms strong enough to imprison him. “No more losing, Jack. No more bullshit.”
“I promise. I feel so happy. So safe,” he said.
Mercedes continued to stroke him. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said. “You have to be at the lawyer’s first thing in the morning.”
“You have a meeting, too,“ Jack said, sleepily. “I want you to do what’s best for you. Stick with the suits. None of this is your fault. Don’t try to save us.”
“Sleep,” Mercedes said, thoughtfully, kissing the top of his head.
She was gone when the alarm woke Jack, but she’d left a note: Have to get ready for my meeting with the network. Good luck with the lawyer. We’ll catch up later.
Jack noticed that she hadn’t said what she was going to do, but he hoped she’d take care of her own interests. He loved her and was determined not to cause her any more harm. He felt so blessed to have Mercedes, Michael and Maggie back in his life. He’d deal with whatever came down the pike, as long as he had his friends. He dressed, had a quick orange juice and coffee and made it down to the lawyers office in plenty of time.
When Jack arrived, Michael, Maggie and Nick were already there and the gloom in the room was funereal.
“We’ve heard from their lawyers and it’s not good. They’re suing for breach of contract, times three, and they’re asking for five million.” Jack joined them around the conference table. “The problem,” the lawyer continued, “is that we have absolutely no defence. You all better think about settling.”
“That’s really going to hurt us,” Nick said. “What about contacting Mercedes Cambridge. Might she be easier to deal with than the brass?”
“What could we possibly expect her to do?” Donald asked. “She’s the aggrieved party. Why would she want to help any of you?”
Right on cue, there was a gentle knock and Mercedes Cambridge walked into the room. She was wearing a black pantsuit over a black turtleneck. A delicate gold chain fell over her enormous breasts and gold studs adorned her tiny earlobes.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but I just came from a network meeting and although I refused to support them, they’re proceeding with the suit.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Jack said. “Now, they’ll come after you.”
“No, they threatened to sue, but they didn’t have a leg to stand on, so they dropped it.”
“We’ve already heard from them and they’re going for the jugular,” Donald said.
“Who did you hear from?” Mercedes asked.
“Stan Zeiglar, their attorney.”
“Let me make a call,” Mercedes said, picking up the phone and dialling. Jack tried not to stare at her, but he was only mildly successful. All he wanted was to hold her, kiss her, shout to the world that he loved her. “They’re not picking up,” Mercedes said.
“Our call didn’t end very hospitably,” Donald said. “They probably think it’s me calling back.”
“We’ll see,” Mercedes said, fishing her phone from her bag. She walked across the room to a window overlooking the city street. “Stan, put Charles on the line. Charles,” they heard her say, just before her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper.
“Charles Weirs is the network head,” Donald informed them. “Could she be pulling a rabbit out of a hat?”
Mercedes didn’t say anything when she returned about five minutes later. She sat quietly at the table, waiting. Within seconds, Donald’s phone rang.
“Donald Smart here,” he said. “Yes … Yes … Yes. Indeed. Thank you and have a good day.”
He hung up and turned to Mercedes. “I don’t know what you did, but it worked. They’ve dropped their case.”
Both Nick and Donald looked relieved. Maggie and Michael held hands under the table, thrilled that the meeting was over and they could rush home to honeymoon heaven. Jack and Mercedes simply looked smug. They had so much to share with their friends. So much to share with each other. All in good time.
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