Thursday, November 13, 2008

Mail Order Bride, Chapter 7, Matt, The Pedophile

Matt, The pedophile

Damien drove Isabella and Christine to the expensive suburb of Kohimarama. The road Tamaki Drive reminded Isabella when she was Emma. Robert her lover, the father of Christine had driven along the same road up to Bastion point one night as they admire the breath taking view of the Waitemata Harbour and Auckland’s waterfront. It was a time she would never forget as she snuggled in the arms of Robert while the sea breeze blew against her face. It could have been the night that Christine was conceived, and in her superstitious mind, she took it as a good omen for Christine’s modeling career. But Christine should not know, Robert was a skeleton in her closet that she would bury with her when she died. Damien had arranged for them to have a weekend working holiday at Matt’s residence.

Christine was awed by the lifestyle of the rich and famous, the big houses, the yachts, the pristine green lawns. It was in stark contrast to the state housing area where she grew up. As Damien drove up the road, he used a remote control to open the gate. They drove up to the front of the big beautiful white Spanish Pseudo-Palladian house with a big manicured lawn. The house was a two level structure. The beautiful exterior was what Isabella only read about in the ‘Home and Décor’ magazine that she had been flipping through while she was waiting for Christine in the modeling studio and dance studio. Isabella was completely blown away by the picturesque house and garden. Isabella and Christine thought it was a fairy tale came true. Lined along the driveway were flowering white roses, gardenias, and white hydrangea. The section must be an acre in area. Under the arched car porch, were toys of the rich: a white convertible Merc and a fiery red Ferrari.

Christine exclaimed, “What a beautiful sports Mercedes! I wish I could go in that and let my long hair blow in the wind. Won’t the girls in school be jealous when they see me in the sports car?”

Isabella was thinking more of the Ferrari. She had read in Jamie’s Playboy magazines that men who drove red Ferraris had enormous egos about their male members and were very good lovers. Jamie had often jokingly pestered her to buy a Ferrari for him and she would be the envy of all the women in Auckland.

“You will, if Matt likes you. Remember, this interview is very important, Christine,” replied Damien.

Suave looking Matt got out from his ranch-slider door. The veranda on the ground and upstairs had rows of white marble balustrade.

Isabella was reminded of the time when she went to the open house of the President of the Philippines on National Day. The grandiose house she saw from the palatial garden was similar to Matt’s house. She couldn’t believe a private person could live in a mansion like that.

This man was her Adonis, he looked young in his forties, his hair was ruffled. He was wearing business attire. He wore an unusual white: ensemble of a jacket, shirt and matching cream silk trousers. He had a trendy silk stripe tie. He was wearing a pair of Polo Ralph Lauren Smokin` Metal Silver Frame Sunglasses. On his feet, he wore cream loafers with no soaks.

Matt shook her hands, gave her a tight bear hug and gave a much stronger than a peck on her cheek. He smelt delicious with his Jean Paul Gaultier Le Male perfume. Isabella could have swooned at this man who looks as though he had jumped out of a magazine.

Isabella blushed. She had been celibate since she kicked Jamie out of the house, and that was a year ago. Now she was feeling a stirring in her.

“I am sure he likes me, otherwise he won’t hug me so tightly and squeeze my bum,” thought Isabella.

Christine interrupted Isabella’s dream, “Hi Matt, I am Christine.”

“Hi gals! Business before play, lets go into my office,” Matt led them to his office.

In the house, Isabella saw the fifteen feet high cream wall and cream ceiling. Hanging on the ceiling were overhead fans whirling slowly and Crystal Chandeliers. On the walls were mounted many crystal sconces. Matt led them past the lounge with the white Spanish Leather Lounge suite. Isabella treaded lightly on the ivory Brontë's Shag Pile wool wall to wall carpet. She thought of the thread-bare carpet in Norman’s unit and Gilbert’s house.

Isabella imagined herself to be the hostess of this luxurious home she had been dreaming of since she had been watching the soap opera “Days of our lives.” She could lie down and have sex with Matt in front of the glowing open fire. Matt’s luxuriant house did not look like a typical bachelor’s pad. It needed a mistress to complete the picture, it needed her. Isabella looked at the marbled stairs and dreamed herself in a beautiful gown and walking slowly down to welcome her dinner guests.

“Go girl!” a little bird reminded her of Imelda’s advice.

They entered the big door into his office. It had a big office desk and a computer. There wasn’t other paraphernalia of an office. It too had the same luxurious carpet and the expensive taste of the lounge.

“I don’t mix my office work with my home, today is an exception.”

Matt opened his file and brought out a contract for Isabella to sign. It was all law jargon, and she couldn’t understand it.

Damien said, “Just sign it, it says Matt will sponsor all Christine’s expenses, he will send her to modeling jobs here and overseas.”

“Izzy, please sign, it is going to give me my first big break.”

Isabella felt a gun was pointed at her, things were going too fast. She was weary of the messy and complicated world of modeling, but if she didn’t sign, Christine might not have another opportunity again and she would never forgive her. Matt is rich and seems very nice.

A little voice told her to “sign, sign Isabella, sign Isabella, Rachel Hunter, Rachel Hunter,” Isabella scrawled her signature at the dotted line.

Matt took the contract and filed it away and locked the filing cabinet. He turned and gave Damien an “ok” sign and winked his eye.

“Now this calls for a celebration. Let’s go to the lounge.”

From the bar, Matt took four champagne flutes and a bottle of chilled Champagne Mannoury. With an opener, he popped the champagne and poured out the champagne into the flutes.

“This is the best champagne, I only drink the best. The very best champagne for two beautiful women,” toasted Matt.

Damein brought out a tray of the best of stilton, and camembert cheese, strawberries and grapes, olives, goose pate and an array of crackers that Isabella had never seen. Isabella did not like cheese, the only cheese she had tasted was the Chesdale block of cheese that she cut up and made Norman’s toasted cheese sandwich lunch and the individual wrapped slices for Christine’s cut lunch. The blue Stilton cheese gagged her.

“What’s wrong Isabella, you don’t like the best cheese in the world?” asked Matt.

Christine took the long fluted crystal wine glass from Matt and was about to drink the champagne when Isabella stopped her.

“Christine, you can’t drink, you are only twelve.”

“Izzy!!! Don’t be a prude!” In an attempt to shut her up, Christine gave Isabella a scorching look.

“Yes, it’s a celebration, there is no law against drinking at home. Kiwi kids drink all the time,” Matt and Damien said in unison.

“To a happy and successful business relationship!” added Matt with a wink at Damien.

After the bottle was finished, Matt and Damien excused themselves: they had something to do in the office.

“You girls go and have a grand tour of the garden, the flowers are beautiful at this time of the year.”

Isabella walked barefoot on the carpeted grass, avoiding the sprinklers watering the lawn. She smelt the beautiful roses, she touched the calla lilies, and the white hydrangea. She made a mental note that Matt liked the color white and wondered it meant. She had once read in a women’s weekly magazine about colors and personalities. It mentioned that people who liked white, liked cleanliness and purity, and they were neat and immaculate in their clothing and homes. In the short time she had spent with Matt, he was exactly what the article had mentioned. She wondered if he had a wife and who kept his house in such a pristine condition. She remembered Imelda’s old advice.

“You want something, go get it! Strike when the iron is hot!” Isabella resolved to do exactly that.

Christine saw the big swimming pool at the side of the house. To her amazement, there was a water fall from the upstairs of the house pouring a thin sheet of water into the swimming pool. Adjoining the pool at the side of the house was a bar, complete with four tiled underwater stools.

“Izzy, look at the pool, I want to swim in it, pity we didn’t bring our togs,” exclaimed Christine excitedly.

“May be next time, Matt will invite us again,” said Isabella, who was just as excited as Christine. Isabella had never been to a swimming pool in her life.

“Magnifica!” was the word that came to Isabella’s mind as she saw the blue dolphin figurines at the side of the bar. The wine flutes lined up, upside down, on top of the bar reminded Isabella of the wild time when she crawled the bars and pubs with her many one stand stands when she first married Gilbert, before Christine and Jamie came to her life.

Damien slipped some ketamine to Matt. Matt poured the white powder into Isabella’s flute.

“You rascal! Matt. You are getting two for the price of one.”

“I will pay you handsomely, you know I only want the young one, if the old hag comes along, why not?” Matt went into his trousers pocket and took out a little blue pill. The doctors had advised him the Viagra would not work in his case, but his friends told him otherwise. He took them anyway.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed Damien.

“Laugh all you like, you like boys and I like little girls, one man’s meat is one man’s poison.”

“Come on back girls, we got work to do,” said Damien.

Matt told Christine they had to approach this contract very seriously, he popped another bottle of Champagne.

“I demand excellence in everything. The portfolio that Christine had is rubbish. I have arranged for the best stylist and photographer team to put together the best portfolio in Auckland. Believe me, you won’t regret this and will thank me in no time. The team is professional, they don’t want anyone standing around to mess they work, so Isabella, you can wait in my house while they work.”

Matt gave Christine a bear hug and a friendly slap on her butt and sent her going with Damien who looked back at Matt with a wink. Damien took Christine to Matt’s studio where the photographer Scott showed photographs and videos of super models and taught her how to pose, cat walk and pout suggestively and all the tricks to make her a top model. A choreographer worked her on a new video routine.

“The trick, Christine, is not how you look, but have charisma, to win over your sponsor,” instructed Damien.

Back in the house, Matt and Isabella drank and made small talk.

“Come, tell me about your village in Philippines, I have been to Manila but never out to the villages. I gagged at the duck eggs, what you call those?” asked Matt.

“It’s the Balut, the fertilized duck eggs..”

“My friends say you spit out feathers, beak and feet after eating the Balut.”

Isabella felt opening up, “foreigners vomit just looking at the Balut.”

“Yuk! How can anyone eat such a thing?”

“It is very good for you.”

“It’s getting warm, would you like a dip in my Jacuzzi?”

“Ja… what’s that?”

“Jacuzzi, it’s also called a spa pool.”

“But I didn’t come prepared, I have never been in a Ja cu see.”

“You don’t need anything, you’ve heard of skinny dipping?” Matt whispered in Isabella’s ear.

“You naughty boy,” and gave Matt a friendly slap on his bum.

Matt led Isabella to his guest room. It was so enormous that Isabella thought her whole house in Sandringham could fit in it. The en-suite bathroom was partitioned by clear glass panels and she knew Matt was looking at her. She looked at the Japanese toilet. She had heard about it from TV, the Japanese didn’t use loo paper, and she fiddled with the different buttons as water sprayed at different jet speeds as she was massaged. Another button blew hot air like a hair drier. She lingered to appreciate the soft piped in music.

“You are enjoying my bathroom, aren’t you? Get in the spa pool.”

There was a love tub just for two. The bubbles made it so appealing and Isabella slipped off her clothes and went into the pool. Matt brought more champagne and both of them sat skinny dipping and sipping champagne. Matt was revolted with what he saw and sat as far from Isabella as he could. He secretly cursed Damien and thought hard about how to be out of the tub without making it obvious that he hated to be in the tub with her. The hot bubbles removed her lip stick, foundation and eye shadow. Without her make up, she looked like a pallid old hag. He couldn’t wait for the katemine to work for her to go to sleep.

“You are a voluptuous Asian woman. But I don’t like your raro paw paw. No man does. I suggest you should go for a plastic surgery, you will look a lot better with a breast reduction and reconstruction and liposuction of your stomach and hips and thighs and arms”

Isabella was disappointed that Matt did not appreciate her body. She remembered the insults that Jamie threw at her, she had lost confidence in herself. The champagne and the hot bubbles of the jacuzzi made her hot and drowsy. She started to slur in her speech, she had visions of Robert. One moment, she was in the arms of Robert, another moment, she thought she was in the arms of her new Adonis boyfriend Matt. She didn’t resist Matt when he got her out of the jacuzzi, she thought she was about to have a kinky time, Matt placed her on the giant sized bed in the guest room. She had visions that she was with Robert again but he was so far away. She waited for Matt, but Matt never laid a finger on her. He was put off by her sagging boobs and fat figure. Isabella was drunk as a skunk. Matt left Isabella to sleep off her katemine. Matt looked at her in exasperation. Her fat blob defiled his beautiful bed. He shut the door and left her alone.

Matt went to his office, checked his watch and it was about time to pop another blue pill and the katemine powder in a clean champagne flute, and waited in anticipation for Damien to bring his dessert.

Damien and Christine came as scheduled. Christine was excited with her photo shoot session. She was chirping away not even aware that Isabella was not in the lounge. Matt gave Christine more and more champagne. Damien excused himself: that he was going to pick up a pizza for supper.

“Rich people don’t like the pizza man to deliver the pizza, they have to be careful with security,” said Damien.

Matt and Christine sat drinking champagne.

“Tell me about your dad and mum.”

“My dad died when I was little. He was a US marine Corp squad leader staff sergeant from Texas, USA. He was stationed in Philippines where he met and fell in love with my beautiful mum. He died in a horrible accident. My mum was a Filipino nurse, she died with my dad in the car accident. I am waiting for my nana in Texas to come and take me to USA”

“Oh! I thought Isabella was your mum?”

“No! she’s not. The ugly woman is a slut. She adopted me because she couldn’t have children of her own. She caused my adopted Dad Gilbert to have a stroke - she killed him.”

“So Isabella isn’t your mum after all.”

“No! I hate her for what she did to Gilbert and what she did to me.”

“No wonder you are so beautiful, and Isabella is not. Your parents gave you such high cheekbones of an oriental, and a regal Caucasian nose, huge eyes and beautiful tanned skin. It’s as if someone had cloned you with all the best genes of the East and West. You are a perfect fusion. You will grace the catwalks of Paris and Milan when I am finished with you.”

“Isabella will never let me go. She just wanted to make big bucks out of me. You know, I’ve heard people accusing her of allowing me to dress skimpily and be photographed sexily. Then she pockets all my money,”

“Christine, you are a very beautiful girl, why do you hide yourself underneath all this ugly makeup?”

“Huh? And quickly said, “It’s Isabella’s fault, she put them on me.”

“My clients request a petite model and they like a natural look, remove your bra and wash your face, and then I will assess you.”

Damien the ‘pizza delivery man’ was late, in fact he was so late that he didn’t show up and he didn’t come back until the next morning with the photographer Scott. Meanwhile Matt continued his prep talk with Christine.

“Christine, the modeling world out there is full of sharks, and you need to be protected. You have to be tenacious in order to succeed.”

Christine was feeling drowsy and nodded at Matt, little knowing it was the effect of combination of the katemine and champagne cocktail.

“Christine, you are young and inexperienced. You have a lot to learn before I can put you out there. Come Christine, I will teach you.”

Matt led Christine where he unlocked the door and pocketed the key. Christine opened her eyes, it was like a scene in one of those late night movies on television with a AO rating. Sometimes when Isabella had gone to bed, she sneaked out to watch them alone. There was a circular bed with crimson satin sheets, a big sixty inch flat panel TV screen on the wall. There were two cosy love seats in front of the TV panel for the viewers to snuggle into each other. On two walls, and on the ceiling, there were wall to wall mirrors. There was a fireplace with a giant sheep skin rug in front of it. Christine swept her hand over the smooth satin sheets and jumped up on the bed and bounced as though she was on a trampoline.

Matt smiled at her innocence. This was exactly what he wanted. He put a DVD in the recorder and little nymphet girls appeared in the screen sashaying on the cat walk, at the beach, at the dance studio. They were all very innocent images.

Matt popped another bottle of champagne and said, “Christine, come here and I will give you lessons to become Miss Teen Supermodel.” Christine held the stem of her champagne flute. She was wondering if she was dreaming.

“Listen to me, you have a very pretty face, but that is not enough. You got to have the right attitude.”

“How shall I get that?”

“You leave everything to me, just do what I tell you to.”

Christine was looking at Matt with dreamy eyes. She was glad to have found this rich Godfather who had promised to make her a star. Gilbert was good to her, but Gilbert was a blue collar worker and he had no money. Matt changed the DVD, and made Christine drink up, and pour more champagne in her flute. They sat down on the love seat.

“Now, you do what the girl in the screen is doing.”

Christine took a lollipop from Matt and began sucking the lollipop.

“Do exactly as the girl is doing.”

Christine did not hesitate, she wanted to please Matt. She wanted to become the super model that Matt had promised to train her to become one. Insidiously, Matt had introduced her to the sinister world of child pornography, oral sex, sex and heinously made her his latest starlet of his new porn movie. When he deflowered her on his love seat, he focused on her two little tiny buds and the small brown tuft on her mount. She hadn’t even menstruated yet. Matt was drunk on lust and adrenaline, Christine’s excitement was infectious. He was surprised that she was a virgin. He loved the way her long, luxuriant black hair with streaks of brown brushed against his face and body.

“You have not done this before, have you?

“No, did I do good?”

“Yes, you did okay, not to worry, I can teach you more.”

Then Matt placed her limp tiny body on the circular bed. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was what he always wanted, a nymphet-like girl who obeyed every instruction he gave. The ketamine and champagne lethal cocktail had worked so well that she didn’t even stir.

He soliloquized, “What a heavenly sight! Pity they all have to grow up. They are so sweet, so enchanting and so innocent when they are young.”

He gently pinched her two tiny breast buds, yes he loved it when they are little nymphets. He thought of the old cow Isabella in the guest room upstairs. He wanted to puke when he thought of the oversized Raro paw paw. No, they were not paw paws, they were those big long hanging thingy he had seen in Singapore. The fruit seller at the Bugis Street fruit stall told him that they were large ripe soft papayas. He remembered her big dark nipples. The zigzag silvery stretched lines on her abdomen from previous pregnancies. Matt shuddered as he swallowed the bile that had come into his mouth.

“Disgusting, yuk! I want to puke. She must have gone for a cheap silicone breast implants, the two boobs were hanging unevenly. The quack doctor in the Philippines must have botched up the job.”

“The scoundrel Damien, he promised me a diminutive Asian woman and a virgin girl, the woman was no  diminutive woman, my foot!” Matt thought. “I will forgive him, at least he stuck to half of the bargain, in this business, virgins are a premium. You don’t often get them.”

Most of the Kiwi and Island girls that Damien got him before were nubiles but were already sexually active. But Christine was not, she was sweet and innocent and never been touched before, smiled Matt satisfactorily. He salivated with his greedy eyes. He wished that she would never grow up. He heard of oestrogen treatment which would prevent little pre-pubescent girls from growing taller and heavier. And wished he could get hold of this everlasting elixirs potion. Then Christine would be his forever as a child. He made a mental note to make enquiries as to where he could acquire this drug.

Matt stuck a new disc into the recorder and watched his latest home made movie, fiddled his computer and in no time, money was coming in from his latest exploit. An exotic Pan-Asian look was the rage at the moment. These girls had inherited the best of two worlds. Then he locked his DVDs in his safe, caressed the little girl now lost to the world. He looked at Christine with desire in his head, pity he would need Viagra, but unfortunately not even the little blue pill, could work magic. There was always tomorrow. Matt went to his own bedroom. In no time, he was snoring away happy that he had struck jackpot.

The next morning, Damien came early with Scott. He prepared a gourmet breakfast and took it outside to the white cast-iron chairs with white padding and table under a white canopy tent next to the pool. He covered the table with a white starched linen table cloth. Matt liked everything white and virginal. Damien smiled, Matt would give him a bonus for last night. Both Isabella and Christine came out with a big headache.

“You girls should not drink so much champagne when you have never drunk it before, that’s why you have a headache,” said Damien.

“I am a big girl, I can drink anything I like,” said Christine.

Damien had prepared freshly squeezed orange juice, rock melon, mango, paw paw, egg benedict, smoked salmon, expensive ham, bagels and croissants. He set a vase of pure white rose buds and imported white orchids. Matt demanded perfection. Half way through breakfast, Matt came out with champagne flutes and a bottle of champagne.

“Are my guests up already? Champagne anyone? In this house, nobody drinks water. We only drink the bubbly. Do you know why? Champagne makes everyone bubbly, that how I like my guests, bubbling.” Matt was wearing his thick white Chenille luxury bath robe and his white Stetson's Felt Cowboy Hat.

“You girls brought your swimming togs?”

“No, Damien didn’t tell us about the pool.”

“Not to worry, Damien will go to the cupboard and get you some.”

The girls went with Damien to get the togs, and Damien came back to Matt.

Matt complained to Damien about Isabella’s drooping papaya.

“You are heinous, Matt. Some day you will get into BIG trouble.”

“Have I ever got into trouble? I am not BIG Matt for nothing, by the way, how was your little boyfriend Scott?’

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, Matt”

When the girls got back, they were dressed in the swimsuits Damien found for them. Christine was in an itsy-bitsy white halter neck bikini, of which Matt approved. Isabella was in a red bikini which was repulsive for Matt to look at.

“Damien, is there no one piece swim suit that Isabella could fit ?”

“Nope, you ain’t got any that could fit her big boobs and her big bum.”

Matt removed his bath robe and revealed a white itsy-bitsy cool Logo Beachwear logo brief from Dolce & Gabbana Beachwear. For his age, Matt had a beautifully sculptured bod, not exactly a six pack, but there was not a love handle anywhere. He noticed Isabella staring at his crouch. He playfully applied sun screen lotion on Christine and pushed her into the water and jumped in himself. Throughout the morning, mother and daughter were vying for Matt’s attention. He lay in the middle lounge chair highly desired by an old woman and a teenage girl. He almost felt sorry for the old woman who was begging for his attention, but he couldn’t help it. He was revolted by her sight. He wasn’t a Samaritan to give her a teeny-weeny bit of attention.

“Christine, you get a breath-taking view from here, see all those boats and ships on the Waitemata Harbour, and see Rangitoto Island. It was a volcano before. Some day, I will get a yacht and take you sailing.”

“Will you?” asked Christine.

“Just lie down, and look as the yachts sail by. You will get peace and tranquility just looking at the deep blue sea, and the tiny wave ripples. Don’t you feel a million bucks?” said Matt.

Damien remained dry sitting at the bar serving drinks, Christine and Isabella sat on the bar stools in the water. Scott went clicking away with his camera focusing mainly on Christine. The rest of the day was spent lounging in the house, Damien got dinner from a near-by expensive French delicatessen. Both Christine and Isabella squealed when they had escargot, pate and duck terrine forestiere.

“Eweeeee! Snails,” squirmed Isabella.

“Izzy! Don’t be a country bumpkin!”

“You should eat French food all the time. French women are always slim,” Matt said sarcastically at Isabella.

Isabella felt disappointed that Matt had not made the first move at her, she tried to be extra affectionate with him, but it was to no avail.

That evening, the previous night’s event almost repeated, except Damien went home early. The drunk and drugged Isabella did not have a bubbly time at the spa pool. She went straight to bed alone in the guest room complaining of a headache. Matt had increased her dosage of katemine. All she felt in the morning was a big headache. The flashes of memory of the previous of the night were of Damien, Scott, Matt and Christine playing playing drunken and sleazy games and laughing. They were dancing dirty and simulating sex, but she was incapacitated to stop Christine. Her head was just throbbing so hard.

Christine had more lessons to be a glamorous starlet on the circular bed. Matt locked another disc and was wondering if he actually needed the ketamine for Christine, or was the champagne enough. She was such an eager learner, so full of initiative. She so wanted to please Matt. She loved him, she told him. Matt thought to himself, he was turning more and more like a Svengali. He was completely dominating and controlling Christine that she was willing to do anything he wanted and earning for himself big bucks. He taught her to make a provocative remark and smile a seductive smile yet at the same time with childhood innocence.

During the day, Damien took the girls shopping for clothes for Christine. Matt holed himself up in the special locked room and duplicated the disc with his computer and loaded more images on to the computer. He was tempted to take some of Isabella’s pix, because he reckoned some dirty old men liked dirty old women. No, he decided against it. He didn’t want to contaminate his pure website. No, his was one of pure innocent angels. He felt revolted by Isabella’s body.

“I want to stay here for ever.”

“You got to go to school,” said Damien.

“I can play hooky and get Izzy to sign a note.”

“You can come next weekend,” said Matt.

Damien drove the girls got home in Sandringham, and before he started the car, he could hear a shouting match.

“Izzy, you shameless whore, don’t you think we didn’t notice the way you eyed Matt? Even Damien commented about you. He says you are not to go to Matt’s house again. Your presence makes me unable to focus and distracts Scott the photographer.”

“Christine, I am your chaperon, and I go every where you go.”

Isabella couldn’t wait to go to Imelda and report the marvelous weekend she had at Matt’s panoramic house.

“When I saw Matt, there was this instant magnetic attraction. It was as if I was Eve in the Garden of Eden and Matt was Adam. Except Matt wasn’t naked, like Adam. Matt wore white from head to toe, and he looked resplendent in white like a cricket player.”

“Another of your Robert or Jamie?”

“No, it is different with Matt. I have not felt anything like this with the men I had before. I just wanted him to hold me tightly and not let me go. He has charm and charisma.”

During the next working holiday, Isabella was left drinking champagne and swimming and sleeping alone. Damien and Matt and Christine had work to do. Most of the time, the three and Scott were out in his Mercedes. Out door scenes, they said, they were shooting. Isabella wondered if anything happened that first night between Matt and her: Matt certainly never acknowledged anything, but she was sure it had. She previously had never been to a jacuzzi, just she had a vivid memory of the bubbles and drinking champagne with Matt. Did anything happen afterwards, or was it just a figment of her imagination. May be Matt was gay, the way he hangs out with Scott and Damien who were obviously gay and Matt never looked at her at all.

One day, they went out in a beautiful boat. Isabella was gobsmacked at the luxury of the 12.2 meter launch. It was a 400 flybridge boat called The Nymph. Matt said it belonged to his friend and they cruised around the Hauraki Gulf. Matt gave Isabella some sea-sick pills as she had never been on a boat or been out to sea. Isabella felt very seasick and nauseous and wished she had never come. Matt suggested she went to one of the three cabins. Filming started in the luxurious saloon, drinking and Christine did pole dancing. Matt had Damien drive the boat to the nudist beach at Little Palm Beach, Waiheke Island. Matt told Christine it was perfectly natural to be nude. Christine seeing nudists of all ages including children and in her anxiety to please Matt, lost all inhibition and soon follow suit and they all walked along the beach with other sun adorers. They were filmed frolicking in their birthday suits in the shallow waters off the pictureque island. In the evening, Matt and Christine retired to the master sleeping cabin, Damien and Scott to the other. Isabella remained most of the weekend alone in her sleeping area nursing a very bad headache.

One day, Christine rang home to tell Izzy that she was having a sleepover at Jan’s place. They had a lot of homework to do. Little was Isabella to know that Christine had forged her signature on a note to say Christine was sick, and had asked Jan to hand it in to the teacher the next day. Damien was waiting round the corner at Kentucky Fried Chicken car park. Christine laughed, and hugged Damien.

“I am an expert, I fooled them, I fooled Izzy, I fooled my teachers. I told Jan to call Izzy tomorrow to say we still haven’t finished our project so I would be staying another night at her place.”

Damien drove Christine to Matt’s place and left them alone. To Christine, it was two glorious days and nights.

“We must do this more often.”

So they did this more often. Isabella never even suspected.

One night, Matt had an African-American friend at his house. Matt introduced Pete to Christine, “He is a director from Hollywood. He will teach you how to be a real super model.”

Matt relegated his leading star role to Pete. He gave Christine extra dose of katemine so that she would be dead to the world and not be aware that it was Pete and not Matt who was in bed with her. Pete was no director from Hollywood. He was a porn star from some two-bit outfit. Matt wanted to increase his website market and specially flew Pete in to add a bit more variety.

Jan and all the other girls were getting jealous with the expensive clothes and the fun Christine was having. The next time, Christine asked Jan to pretend that Christine was having a sleepover at her house, Jan insisted on tagging along.

“What about best girlfriends sharing everything?” asked Jan sullenly.

“”I can’t, my sponsor won’t allow it.”

“Then you get someone else to lie for you,” threatened Jan.

So they roped Keita in to lie for them. At first Matt was cross with them. He didn’t want too many people to know his business. Damien persuaded Matt perhaps could use a new girl. But Jan was a plain Jane, she was gingery with freckles all over her face and body. She had buck teeth and needed braces and had a squint.

“No, no can do.”

Damien whispered to Matt, “Bingo! Why didn’t I think of that, Damien, you are a genius.”

“Just don’t forget to increase my pay.”

“Jan, is that your name? Would you like to be a model too?”

“Yes, I’d like that, I won’t tell my mum.”

“We will have Scott come and take some shots. Christine, are you competent to do Jan’s make up?”

When Scott came, Jan was piled up with so much make up that she looked different. Matt told Scott to shoot the pool scene and do a quick job. After that, they all swam in the pool with lots of champagne and giggles. After dinner, the boys went home, and Matt started his routine but with two girls. Jan was filled up with katemine and champagne that she followed the instructions of Christine and Matt to a T.

Matt laughed himself all the way to the bank. He imagined he would be sitting on a nest-egg in comfort if he got a few more of these nubile girls coming over for the weekend. He wouldn’t even get them sign expensive contracts like Isabella did. These girls were plain Janes, but it didn’t matter. These girls would fulfill the fantasies he had always indulged in: a king with his harem of young beauties.

“Christine, it’s Damien’s birthday, let’s get some of your girl friends over for a big party.”

“Matt! Matt! Matt! You are playing with fire!” said Damien.

“Nope, Damien likes boys, we should get boys.”

Christine wanted this good life for herself, she didn’t want to share Matt with her girl friends. Besides Jan had been big trouble and was telling the kids in school about Matt’s gorgeous house except the recording part. Jan couldn’t remember anything about the secret room at all.

“But it’s time we taught Damien about girls, he has to grow up to like girls. That settles it, you invite your girl friends,” said Matt.

Christine made up a invitation to her ‘party’, and invited Katie, Jan, Keita, Nina and Shanti to her birthday. The girls knew it wasn’t her birthday, but their parents were not to know. To play it safe, Isabella was invited to be their chaperon. The girls had fun in Matt’s house, they had never been to a house with a swimming pool and drunk champagne. Matt doped Isabella so much katemine that by eight pm, she was already ready to sleep and locked away in the guest room.

The girls were very elated and excited. They giggled and chattered incessantly. They stuffed their face with expensive imported French chocolate, Häagen-Dazs ice cream, macadamia, pistachio, and Brazil nuts and other exotic tidbits. Matt had extra hidden cameras in the lounge, and got the girls to play a stripping game for Damien. Matt taught the girls a new oriental finger guessing game, the loser had to remove an item of his or her clothing. In no time, they were wearing their birthday suits and were as uninhibited as the day they were born. They were playing a ‘pile of top of each other’ game and by the time the katemine and champagne had come into effect, the girls were taken to the room like sheep to the slaughter, and some in a group and some alone. They hadn’t any recollection the next morning of what had been done to them.

When they all woke up, they had the best day of their lives with lots of food and soft drink. Isabella got up looking longingly at Matt. But Matt didn’t notice or care. The girls spent the whole day at the pool, the warm water washed away any hint of grogginess, from the katemine. Damien drove them home, but not before Isabella went into the houses to assure the mothers that she was there all the time.

Matt thought he had struck a gold mine or hit the jack pot. He was seriously considering a birthday party for Scott.

No comments: