Chapter #29The Prodigal Son Returns Home by: Nostrum   “Thank you,” you tell the driver with a subtly menacing tone. “Be thankful I won’t press charges against your company for what happened.”
“Thanks, ma’am.” You press him the fare – and a little extra – but he refuses. “No, ma’am. The trip is on us.”
“Nonsense.” You’re not sure – and you don’t care – if Dora Phelps behaves like this, but you shove the bills on him. “That was him. You, on the other hand, were a gentleman, and I assume you have a family to maintain.”
“Yes, but--”
“Then take this and make no further questions. Have a nice evening.”
He looks at you, dumbfounded, then nods. “Yes, ma’am. As you say, ma’am.”
As you leave, you hoist your backpack and carry the suitcase, stepping into the motel. It’s for the night, at the very least, while you plan your next move.
The attendant – a man with receding hairline and a mullet – leers at you with dark eyes. “How long?”
“One night.”
“Business or pleasure?”
You scoff. “Neither. Only a place to sleep. I’m on my own.”
He grunts, giving you a key. “Far away from the hot spot, then. Don’t mind the noises. And I’d recommend keeping an eye – people might confuse you.”
“They won’t confuse this,” you say as you draw your gun from her purse.
That makes him grin. “There’s a $50 fee for no questions asked.”
“Payable upfront? Because otherwise--”
“I won’t rat you, if that’s what you think. It’s the fee to keep the coppers on check.”
Look at that, you think to yourself. Mayor Chen is more corrupt than I thought.
“I’ll hope that doesn’t happen, then.”
“Good. Credit or cash?”
“Cash.” You notice the deposit – also, coincidentally, 50 dollars – and slap three twenties. “Change, please. In ones only.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After escorting you to your room – dark, musty, with a hideous purple wallpaper but clean bedsheets and no traces of mold – you stretch and relax. It’s been a long trip and way too many changes.
You check Dora on the bathroom mirror as you undress. The scars of multiple cosmetic surgeries mar her skin, though it’s a rarity she hasn’t touched her face. It’s not just the breast enhancement; she also enhanced her rear with fat injections and a butt lift already yielding to gravity. She’s fit, though, judging by the hard muscle on her arms, abs and legs.
Quite a shock when you consider it’s Pandora Phelps. You didn’t imagine she’d be from Edgefield, but she’s a town girl. From your mugging attempt – and a little text exchange – you know her sister Isadora lives on the wealthier part of town, where she invited you for a little shindig.
You wish you had the brown pen, as you only go through the rumors. Ages ago (you owe Jimmy for that tidbit), she was a model, though rumored to really be a porn star. That changed when she married Randall Phelps, a wealthy liquor trader, then divorced him and got control of his company. If the rumors are true, she may be successful now, but she’s not beating the allegations.
You bet she must be dying for some hard spirits, but you need your mind clear. You told Isadora you’d spend the night elsewhere, possibly going to the hospital later as you felt a little off. Of course, you chose this motel because of its fame for being a spot for... certain business transactions, which will allow you to slide into a different hiding spot if necessary.
But for now, you want to rest. You’re thankful that you stopped to eat while handling the situation with the taxi company, since you were starving. You’re starving for something else, though.
You lay your back on the crisp bedsheets, missing the feel of Silva’s own. You miss the mushiness of your own bed, waking up to a nice breakfast, even if it meant a day of lawn work or house cleaning. You miss the softness and scent of Jessica’s bed, when you two simply laid your backs there to talk. Compared to those moments, this bed feels sterile.
But you couldn’t pretend to be Pandora Phelps in any of those. And you need the distraction, since tomorrow will be a rough day.
Your little stint trying to check on Silva alerted them about you. Maybe you could feign being an expert agent of their group, but she’ll know it’s you. She’ll check on the safehouse, and she’ll notice you’re gone. She’ll tell that to the guy passing off as Nick, and soon enough, you’ll have whoever’s with him on your trail. You’ve got no backup and no support. The cavalry will not arrive.
And if that means this will be the last day of your life, might as well make a good memory out of it. You retract your legs, touching her breasts with one hand while rubbing her labia with the other. You moan and you shiver as you claim the sensations of a woman past her prime for yourself.
You’re eager to test her limits. Pandora may be mature, but you feel she could still ride a man and satisfy him before giving up. If you survive, you could – almost truthfully – claim that you rode that legend.
And if you satisfy yourself, you could even claim you satisfied her.
--
You wake up, exhausted, with some of the adrenaline from yesterday still on your system. Your gun is on the night table, which you grab instinctively. Still naked and with your back against the wall, you lean towards the windows, checking them in case someone is nearby. Then, you check under the bed, the closet, the bathroom, then the window on the opposite side, before you feel relaxed.
You pull out the backpack, drawing Silva’s skin from it. Though you lack her expertise, you figure you could use her looks to deal with your own replacement, with your family and with Ashley, so you resolve to wear her as your innermost layer. You also draw Ross’s skin, figuring no one will know him in Edgefield, therefore letting you get the advantage of his athleticism. (And if they discover you, you could always discard him.)
Since you’ll take your sweet time, you grab the whole backpack into the bathroom, alongside the keys and the gun. You study the shower, checking if you can keep the gun as close as possible; you lean the backpack on the door, in between the ridge, for an extra alarm. Then, you peel Pandora’s skin off, letting your own skin breathe for the first time in almost a day.
The shower is largely uneventful, giving you plenty of time to slip on each skin and lean for any changes. Silva’s skin already feels natural to you despite the short time you’ve worn her. Ross’s skin, on the other hand, feels very alien, but you trust his muscles and athleticism will make for a quick escape. Then, with a modicum of respect (perhaps some reverence), you slide inside Pandora, finishing your layer of disguises.
You make one final sweep before checking on Dora’s phone. Her sister asks if she’s on her way, but you remind her of your programmed delay. You still need to find a burner to communicate with your duplicate and draw some money for your ventures, not to mention making the switch back.
As you step out, you notice a woman in the same corridor, smoking a cigarette. You draw closer, snorting. “Good night?”
“Why should it matter?”, the redhead asks, bothered.
“The cigarette. The place. The look,” you tell her as you scan her from top to bottom, the tight minidress barely covering her abdomen, her breasts and half her hips. “Like the young’uns say, ‘game recognizes game’.”
She snorts back. “You’re telling me you were a prostitute before?”
“One who made it big,” you bluff. “So - had a good night?”
She takes a swig of her cigarette, sighing. “No. Max lets me stay, but I’ll have to find someone today or I’ll have to pay in some other way.”
You don’t need a whore’s mind to know what she means. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah.” She looks at you with admiration, though hiding some envy. “How did you do it?”
“For starters, I got out of here. You’re on the road to Tyneside. Go big.”
“Not like I can,” she tells you.
“Is it money issues?”
“Don’t have a place to stay. And I don’t know the place. Here, I know the spots and I got my clients.”
“Have you studied the place, at least?”
‘It’s a day’s work to explore, ma’am. I can’t afford it.”
“Do you work alone?”
She grins and nods. “I know a few girls. We pool together a fund to keep the sheriff and the cops away, we check on each other, but we don’t work under anyone.”
“I see...” Her claim sparked an idea on you. “So you’ve got a support network of sorts.”
“You could say. Useful in this line of work.”
“I agree. And does any one of your girls has connections to mayor Chen or to her aides?”
She tilts her head. You’ve piqued her curiosity. “Why?”
“Does that mean her administration’s clean? No people interested in the business you offer?”
“Well...” You see her fluster. “Yeah. Couple members of the Council. Councilman Thompson, in particular, has slept with all of us – he's the reason we can bribe the police.”
Thompson... You know the name. Alan Thompson, who happens to be Justin Thompson’s dad, and coincidentally part of the student council.
“Interesting...” You let it slip, which you notice when she questions you.
“Why it’s so interesting?”
You can’t tell her, but she just became a way to gain leverage against Silva – against Epsilon – and their new partner. As Pandora, you’ll be kept distracted by her sister, but you’ll have a solid hiding place and resources. But if you changed into this woman, you could aim higher.
You could play the long game and get them through Thompson. Maybe even through mayor Chen herself?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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