Side Thread -- Lust

The Chauffeur put the stretch into park and stepped out. She was tall and thin, which was amplified even more by the four inch heel boots and short skirt that -- even after she smoothed it on her hips -- barely covered the rounds of her ass.

She eyed Annabell with a conspicuous ogling as she moved to the back door, opening it and politely gesturing Lust inside.

"Please ... there's a bottle of Cristal Brut, and the cooler features caviar and a variety of cheeses and ... well, other stuff."

Lust regarded the chauffer with almost absent apraisal. She was very pretty to be a chaffuer. She slid into the limo and settled in tucking her long slender legs under her body. She ran a finger over the smooth green snakeskin straps of her 8" heels. Leaning back against the softly upholstered chairs she flicked a strand of her hair out of her eyes. "You know, you're way to pretty to be a chauffer." Lust said idly.

The Chauffeur laughed, as she buckled, then looking into the mirror responded, "Well, I wasn't hired for my driving ability."

She laughed again as she shifted to the big car into gear and, once more, looked into the mirror at Annabell. She hesitated, then -- shifting the car back into park and unbuckling to allow her to turn to face the woman behind her, she said with a slight smile, "You ... you don't know ... do you?"

Lust leaned forward slightly giving her a seductive half smile. She arched one eyebrow at the woman. "Do I want to what?" she said her voice low and soft. She knew exactly what the woman had been implying, but she wanted her to say it out loud. She gently twirled a soft strand of golden hair absently around her ring finger. She lowered her lids a bit her thick dark lashes giving her a lazy cat like look. She gently traced a finger along her toned calf muscle.

The Chauffeur only smiled, turned back to again buckle and prepare for pulling away from the curb. As she cleared her mirrors and let off the brake she took one final look back at the beautiful stripper -- she wasn't aware of Percy's rules about Job Titles, for she had never met the man -- and informed her, "We'll be at our destination in twenty-five minutes. Please ... enjoy the ride."

The glass divider began rising, activated from the front of the car, then stopped suddenly. Again watching Annabelle in the rear view mirror, the Chauffeur added, "They call me Charity."

And the glass continued upwards...

Lust simply chuckled and settled back into her seat closing her eyes. "Charity is a very pretty name." she said softly. She closed her eyes to begin her mental preparation for the job at hand. She imagined the music, the way her body would go to fluid with the music. Then for the hell of it she remzbered the first night she had danced as Lust. The crowd had been so big and rowdy from a bachelor party that Annabell had nearly been scared shitless. So she had shut everything else out and become this whole other person. Every since then she had become Lust whenever she needed some extra strength and flair. She opened her eyes knowing she was ready for anything.

The ride was uneventful, with the majority of the Sunday evening traffic heading opposite of the limo's course. The City opened into the suburbs, which opened to the rural countryside.

Just minutes down the highway, the car slowed and stopped between twin guard shacks, just short of a heavy steel gate. Two guards approached the car, one moving to talk to the Chauffeur while the other opened the rear passenger side door and, quite brusquely said, "Purse, please."

Beyond the divider glass and front windshield,
the house, their apparent destination, was framed by a beautiful blue sky.

Lust cast a shrewd glance at the burly gaurd and shifted in her seat. "Yes because I can hide a purse in what little clothes I have on." she said sarcastically. Lust sat back in her seat pulling her long white jacket closer around her slender frame for warmth. Sitting primly on her lap was the white envelope she had been given earlier and she fingered the edges slightly. "Was that all?"

Charity, listening in on the speaker that normally connected the limo's passenger's to the driver for their convenience, not the driver's, told the Guard with her, "She's clean. No purse."

The Guard stood tall, knocking his knuckles atop the car's top. The other Guard scrutinized Annabell, giving her entire form a slow once over. His expression remained hard; she would be hard woman for any man not to give a leering smile to, yet he managed very well. He looked into her eyes again, then backed away and shut the door easily.

The limo headed forward as the gate slowly opened. As she waited to be clear, Charity lowered the divider again, looking back in the mirror to inform Annabell, "Just doing their jobs. The one draw back to having something like this--" Gestured a hand toward the grounds surrounding the mansion as far as the eye could see. "--is that there is always someone trying to take it away from you."

A long moment later, the car stopped and Charity quickly exited, moving back to open the door. Normally, female Chauffeur's didn't offer a hand out for their charges, but Charity did -- with a knowing smile as well -- for the beautiful, sexy Lust.

Lust smiled softly, knowing exactly what Charity meant. Lust had made alot of enemies herself. A skilled dancer, she had gained a lucrative amount of money in quite a short amount of time. At the urging of one of her on again of again boyfriends she had hired a personal manager. But three months, and several thousand dollars later, Lust had learned the most important lesson of her career: When you have money you have enemies.

None the less she took Charity's hand stepping out of the car. She flashed her a smile and landed a soft peck to her cheek. "Thank you very much." she said with a grin.

"Save that," Charity said softly. "There will be enough time for that later."

The woman turned and headed toward the big house, curling a finger playfully in a follow me gesture.

Inside, the huge foyer was devoid of life; no servants, no security, no yapping little dogs, no master of the castle; just walls and pedestals and shelving units full of original paintings, marble busts, and frames certificates of appreciation from every thankful charitable organization in the country, possible the world.

Charity led onward in silence, looking back once or twice to ensure that Annabell was both following and impressed. She led the dancer up a wide flight of granite steps to a second level. Here the decor became a bit more personal, with walls crowded by portraits of people; the largest frame surrounded the image of an older gentleman that most of the money-grubbing world was familiar with. Charity pointed a finger, saying, "Our host."

They continued upwards still, to the second floor. The halls here narrowed a bit, becoming less museum like and more of just upper-class, money-up-the-wazoo-ish. Charity stopped at a door and began pressing buttons on a security panel. She peeked back and caught Annabell looking at a large photograph on the wall, featuring the old man from the previous portrait surrounded by a cast of characters, his family.

Charity wondered as she opened the door, leading the dancer into yet another hallway, whether she had noticed the 12 year old girl sitting on the old man's lap, smiling broadly, happy as all children should be, and would be, if they'd been brought up in the lap of luxury ... as Charity had.

Lust looked around her face neutral except for the occasional raise of her eyebrows. She followed after Charity, her heels clicking softly on the marble floors. The house was an immese place and very beautiful. It brought back memories of Annabell's child hood. Her house had not been this big, of course, but it was nothing to sneeze at either. She scanned the portraits as the walked throgh the hal and arched a single well-groomed eyebrow as Charity pointed out a portrait of thier host.

The home was nice of course but the amount of wealth as well as power it exhibited was a little bit uncomfortable, at least to Annabell. So she resettled her Lust persona and continued to follow. As they head up the stairs Lust couldnt help but admire the girls toned butt. She giggled softly to herself and then caught sight of the big family portrait. She stopped for a moment, her eyes raking over the picture until a face caught her eye.

The resemblance between Charity and the small girl on the lap of the Host, was uncanny. Lust was a bright girl and recognized almost immediately that Charity was the little girl in the portrait. She had certaintly grown-upxsince this portrait was painted. Returning her attention to following Charity she resumed trailng down the hall after the girl.

Charity led Annabell down the hall at a much slower pace now, turning to face her and walk backwards as she explained, "Few people come here anymore. My-- Our host ... he's ... let's call it getting up there. Most of his family is elsewhere or deceased. Tragically, he outlived all seven of his children. Lucky number seven ... it's a little joke we tell when he gets to missing what he's lost."

She stepped over to a door and pushed it open. The bedroom beyond was immaculately furnished, with twin beds, stain glass windows, and a salon at the far end that -- unseen from the doorway -- included a wet bar, snooker table, and a late 17th Century desk that George Washington had scratched his name into when he was only nine.

"If you would like to stay afterwards," Charity offered, again looking down at Annabell's long, luscious legs, "this is a very comfortable spot to rest your weary bones."

She smiled, then turned away, stepping across the hall to open yet another door and gesture toward its interior. "Our Host's room. It's not much, but ... he's a simple man anymore."

Again, she smiled broadly. She liked these games, showing off the house to new people and looking for their reactions. Charity had never flaunted her family's wealth to others until she was an older teen because, quite simply, she thought every one lived like this. She'd been tutored here all of her life, had never watched television and seen the horrible conditions beyond the estate's walls, had never taken field trips to anywhere other than the fine arts and history museums, the Met, the family's many overseas vacations homes; it was quite a shock when, at sixteen, she began questioning the home's owner about the world outside and, for the first time, he began giving her straight answers.

She opened a third door, next to the Host's bedroom, but this time went inside. It was a stunning departure from the other rooms with their rare art work and intricate wood work.

She went to the middle of the room and turned in a circle, arms out wide, head back, eyes closed like some little girl spinning in a vast meadow. When she stopped, she looked to Annabell -- teetering a bit from the twirling dizziness -- and giggled.

"This is my room!" she announced, then bounding forward, she clasped Lust's hands, leading her in further to inform her happily, "This ... is where you will perform."

Lust followed after her listening as she told her about the host. She gave her a look of soft pity. She knew it was hard to loose family, no matter your age. Annabell was the youngest of 5 children and the last living out of the five. It perhaps would have been easier if she hadn't known them but she did. But that was beside the point. They had obviously reached there detination since Charity had slowed.

She trailed behind her as she showed her the guest room, her room for the night if she wished. It was beautifully furnished and the room had undoubtzmably caused a large sum of money. It was spacious and luxurious and she considered wether she would take the pro-offered opportunity to spend the night here. They left the room and Charity showed her where hosts room was. But instead of going in as Lust had expected, Charity tossed open the door of a room in between.

It waz furnished in all pink and white and seemed very young. She smiled watchibg as the girl spun around the room. She was very sexy and moved with an almost childlike grace. She was surprised and it registered on her face. She blinked a few times and glanced around the room. "How nice. But there's no pole." she said with her trademark half grin.

"How nice," Annabell responded, adding with a smile, "But there's no pole."

Charity began laughing -- a high pitched, young laugh -- and grabbed Annabell's hands, squeezing them. She led the other woman to a pair of doors, flinging them open to reveal a walk in closet; its three sides were neatly arranged with ... with everything -- clothes and shoes and coats and hats and scarves and more.

"Pick!" Charity said excited, ripping her chauffeur's cap from her head and frisbee-throwing it deep into the closet. "Anything ... you can wear anything you want!"

Charity bounded into the closet, shedding her jacket, tossing it over the head of six foot tall pink giraffe that was already wearing a tutu. In the past few minutes, she'd reverted ten years -- maybe more -- and was acting like she was at a sleep over with a BFF.

She spun to face Annabell and, reaching to her waist, ripped her blouse off her upper body. She pushed her skirt off her hips, wiggling it to her feet before giving a little kick, sending the skirt toward Annabell with a giggle.

She made a ta da gesture; she stood before the stripper in nothing but her tall boots and a smile. She tilted her head and waved anxiously to her new BFF. "Hurry! Change. We have things to do!"