This choice: Copy Chelsea for Patterson • Go Back...Chapter #31The Chelsea Cheat by: Seuzz   Your jaw drops. "Can't Gordon get a copy of her?" you squeak.
"Gordon says she's off limits." Patterson draws close. "It's a real bone between us," he murmurs. "If you do this job, it's just between you and me. Her mask doesn't go in the pile. You and me are the only ones who get to use it." His eyebrow arches. "Think about it. Your cock. Her pussy. Her hot, wet, tight pussy. After she's sucked you off."
You swallow: it's a very tempting vision, and your cock responds. "Isn't Gordon, like, the co-boss of this team?" you ask. "Shouldn't he—?"
"Gordon's just along for the pussy. He just wants girls he can fuck. Faces he can hang on the mud pile." He jerks his chin at the golem in the corner. "I'm the one who makes the decisions." His voice drops to a whisper. "And I want Chelsea."
Your breathing becomes labored. "And I get her too?" Patterson nods. "Before or after the Eastman job?"
"Before. Fast as you can." He lets you dangle, and then a smile creeps up the side of his face. "Just use Kendra. I'll keep the real one out of the way tonight, and you pop over to Chelsea's. You can pump her for gossip about Lisa," he adds.
You were almost ready to agree to his scheme anyway, and that just tips you over. Your feet feel numb as you totter over to the cabinet that has Kendra's mask and a set of clothes in it. "I'll get rid of Tilley and Johansson while you change," Patterson says. "Remember, this is just between us."
* * * * *
You rub your arm uncertainly while Chelsea glares at you. "I've already got one airhead for a friend, Kendra," she snaps. "If I wanted another one, I'd go down to the party store and get one of those clown balloons. Think, girl. Amanda. Ricky. Oh. My. God. That's an exact quote from your text this afternoon."
"Oh, is that all?" you say, and breathe a sigh of relief. "I thought you said 'What about Amanda and Mickey.'"
"Who the hell is 'Mickey'?" Chelsea demands.
"That's why I was confused."
Chelsea opens her mouth—probably to rebuke you—then closes it with a snap. "Alright then, what is it with Amanda and Ricky?"
"Oh, they just had another fight," you improvise. You have no idea what the real Kendra would have been texting to Chelsea, but it's a safe bet that Amanda Ferguson had been yelling at her boyfriend again. "A real big one, though. I mean, Oh. My. God!"
Chelsea rolls her eyes dramatically. "Don't be such a fucking amateur, Kendra. What were they fighting about?"
"Lisa Yarborough and Geoff Mansfield, I think." Another improvisation, and you look hungrily at her.
Chelsea's eyebrows shoot up. "Really." She sits down heavily on the bed, eyes glued to you. "Tell me."
Uh-oh. "Well, it didn't make a lot of sense. If you could tell me the latest you know about those two, I might be able to—"
Chelsea's nostrils flare. "Did Kelsey's name come up in that fight?"
"Oh, yeah," you say, pretending to remember. "I couldn't figure out—"
"What did she say about Kelsey?"
"Just, Kelsey says this and Kelsey says that—"
"I bet!" Chelsea hops up and down on the bed. "She's got Lisa's number, she knows what a slut she is, even if she is still technically a virgin." Chelsea clucks her tongue. "Frigid and a slut. No wonder she had whatsisname, over the summer, so fucked up."
"Will Prescott?"
Chelsea glares at you. "You remember his name, but you don't remember what Amanda and Ricky were saying? Anyway, I heard today that Kelsey's done a total 180, and is telling everyone that Geoff is lying. I mean, I'm sure he is—" You frown until she chortles the punch line. "Lying about her being any good!" She cackles loud and long, and continues to chuckle vacantly for a little while longer, even as you grip the bag containing the blank mask more tightly. "Ohhhh," she finally sighs. "What was I talking about? Oh yeah!" She shoots you a hungry look. "What were Amanda and Ricky fighting about?"
"Oh, it all makes sense now," you say, feigning both enthusiasm and secret knowledge. "Amanda was totally taking Kelsey's side, she was all 'Kelsey knows what she's talking about, Ricky,' and Ricky was trying to stick up for Geoff. But, you know, in that— Well, you know how he is." You roll your eyes. "'It's got to be some kind of mistake, some kind of misunderstanding,'" you lisp in a bad imitation of Ricky Golia.
"Very interesting," Chelsea says, her eyes glinting. "Trouble in political heaven." Her eyes go distant, and then abruptly fasten on you. "You don't like Ricky, do you?"
"Please, girlfriend," you roll your eyes and flap your wrist limply. "He's settling for pussy when he really wants cock. I can tell."
"Can you," Chelsea says dryly. "Well, maybe. Amanda's twice the man he is, that's for sure. I bet if you batted your eyelashes at him, especially after this fight, you couldn't get him away from her?"
You relax and let Kendra's instincts come to the fore. Unfortunately, they run in opposite directions. Mostly, she wants to run away from the greasy little suck-up; but she also responds to Chelsea's challenge. "Just give me thirty minutes with him," you boast.
"Thirty?" Chelsea laughs. "You said 'twenty' when I pitched Maize Tsosie to you."
Oh yeah. Maize. Kendra's instincts are still so close to the surface that you feel a twinge in the fork between your legs, and have to swallow a sudden flood of saliva. "That's 'cos Maize looks good in those tight pants. Ricky looks like a sloppy turd."
"Thirty minutes it is, then," Chelsea says with an air of satisfaction.
But you quickly demur, for you don't particularly want to leave a trail behind to baffle the real Kendra. "Talk to me tomorrow," you purr. "You've got me thinking about Maize again."
Chelsea grins, then looks over at her laptop, which has been softly beeping with email and text alerts. She hops off the bed and plops into the chair at her desk. As she turns away from you, you draw the mask out of the shoulder bag and quickly slide it around her head and onto her face. Nasty little cunt, you think. But what a body, you have to add.
You gently coax her back into consciousness after the mask has reappeared, and with some feigned alarm tell her she must have passed out due to a blood rush as she leaped over to the computer. The episode puts a damper on her mood, and you catch her giving you the fish eye as you cluck over her, but she seems more confused than angry with you. Still, it's a good excuse for cutting short the visit.
* * * * *
You drive to the high school and change back to your own form and clothes before calling Patterson; he tells you to drive around until he calls back with the all-clear, for Keith is apparently still up in the fuck room getting a mask of Javits. Thirty minutes later the call comes, and Patterson is standing by the gym door when you show up again. "Fuckin' sweet, little man," he gloats. "I knew I could count on you." A mad glint comes into his eye. "Wanna try her out now?" Your heart beats as you nod.
Up in the fuck room he withdraws some supplies from the cabinet with the combination lock, and inside of five minutes has the mask sealed up. You're trembling slightly as he sets it onto the golem. Waves seem to ripple through its form, and it shrinks, and a moment later a naked Chelsea Cooper is standing before you in the dimly lit loft. She rocks back on her heels and catches herself on the wall behind. Even in the gloom you can see her golden form: small, kissable feet; strong calves and thighs; wide hips; a curved, strong stomach with a shallow scoop of a navel; great, round globes; and blonde hair tumbling down in loose curls around an oval face. She frowns. "What the fuck?" she mutters, and then looks up in surprise and astonishment at Patterson.
He leans over her. "Hey, Chels," he says. "Whose bitch are you? Now, I mean?"
She swallows, and her mouth parts. "Steve? How—? What's—?"
"Shh." Gently he puts a hand on her cheek, and brushes her face before settling his long fingers along the side of her throat. "Don't ask questions. Because you love me." The last hasn't the tone of a statement but of a command.
She shudders slightly, then smiles. "Yes. I do." She groans, and reaches up to caress his hand. Then her eyes fall on you, and she frowns. "Who's he?"
"Doesn't matter," Patterson says. "You love him too. You think he's sexy. Just like you think I'm sexy." Chelsea's frown softens, and then dimples into a smile as she looks between you and Patterson.
He glances back at you. "Why are you still dressed, Prescott? Aren't we going to do this thing?"  | Members who added to this interactive
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