The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Little Night Music part 21

By T.MaskedWriter

“I can see her lookin’ fast in her faded jeans.
She’s a hard-lovin’ woman, got me feelin’ mean.
Sometimes, I think it’s a shame,
when I feel like I’m winning, when I’m losin’ again.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin’ round my back stair.
Sundown, you better take care,
if I find you been creepin’ round my back stair.
Sometimes, I think it’s a sin,
when I feel like I’m winning, and I’m losing again.”
—Gordon Lightfoot, “Sundown”

Susan Bailey explored a bit more to kill time before entering the Grand Ballroom of Castle Finzione. Wikipedia had stated that construction on the Grand Ballroom began in 1658; however, the police tape around about a quarter of the room was almost certainly a more recent addition.

“Mademoiselle Bailey,” one of La Policia’s officers, who were guarding the cordoned-off portion of the large room that had been designated the crime scene, said when she entered. “La Contessa is waiting for you on the patio.” He pointed to one of the sets of French doors at the other end of the room.

“Thanks,” Susan said, having also never been called Mademoiselle before that moment. She thought she recognized the officer. “Hey, weren’t you at the motel a couple days ago?”

“Oui,” the officer said, with a smile. “I heard your conversation with Le Prefect. I was telling the other officers about it.”

He turned to the other officers, gave Susan a pat on the shoulder that would have made her uncomfortable if the intent hadn’t been so obviously friendly, and said something to the other policemen in French. Susan gathered from her name and their applause that the message was “This is that woman I was just telling you about, the one who got in the Prefect’s face.”

Her time in San Finzione was teaching her the value of learning a second language. Susan had concluded that Klingon might not have been the best choice for hers, and that she should learn a third. Troy had told her that Italian would be the most useful for getting around San Finzione, as that was the primary of the four official languages of the country. Most citizens spoke at least two of the other three, though; English, Spanish, and French. Tourism brochures boasted that if the person you’re talking to can’t understand you, the person next to them probably can. He also pointed out that with Helen’s gift for languages, she would probably be an excellent teacher. The conversation she was about to walk into would determine the possibility of doing so.

She looked over at the spot where outlines in tape showed where Helen and the assassin’s bodies fell. Susan felt a little chill as she crossed the Grand Ballroom to the patio and stepped outside.

Contessa Helena de San Finzione sat in her wheelchair on the patio, looked at the garden below, and smoked. She heard the French doors behind her open, turned her head, and her shoulder made her instantly regret it. She winced and turned the chair around instead to face Susan. Susan determined by the butts already in the ash tray that she hadn’t needed as much time to clean up and change as she’d estimated, and Helen had been waiting out here a while.

“Weird choice for a place to talk,” said Susan. “Having to go right by where that happened a few days ago.”

“I couldn’t avoid it forever.” Helen said, putting out her cigarette. “The last time they were here, Julie and I talked out on this patio. Things that needed to be said got said, and we… well, we’re where we are today as a result. I’m hoping that maybe, this turns out to be a lucky spot.”

Susan nodded her understanding. Helen wheeled over to the table with the two chairs where she and Julie sat and moved the chair in her spot aside to wheel up to the table. She gestured to the tray on the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you drink,” Helen explained. “So, Jeanne did tea for us.”

“That sounds nice,” Susan replied, and sat down. Since Helen was operating with one hand, Susan poured her a cup before her own. “Here ya go…” Susan had to stop herself before she added the “hon” and “anything else for you, sweetie” and sat back down, slightly flushed.

“Hey,” Helen said with a tiny smile as she took out another cigarette. “If anyone understands old habits.”

She put it in her mouth, and as she was bringing the lighter up to it, stopped herself. Helen took the cigarette out of her mouth and made a “do you mind” gesture to Susan. Her response was a mixture of a turn of her head and a shrug, so Helen nodded and resumed lighting it.

A few seconds of silence passed as Helen smoked and Susan sipped before Helen spoke again.

“I should be the one to start. I hope that I haven’t already said it so much that it comes off as a line; however, it feels like the best place to begin. I am deeply sorry and thoroughly regret what I did and how I treated you, Susan. Not knowing what you’d been through before excuses nothing. You didn’t deserve it, and it is entirely my fault.”

Susan listened while she drank, then set her cup down.

“And I sincerely thank you, Helen. I must admit, it did feel like a line the first time, and that has certainly colored things. The video you made helped me see that. You were right about the poor choice of words.”

Helen nodded in response, took a puff of her cigarette, then set it in an ash tray so she could pick up her own tea and take a drink.

“I really should have known better. Someday, I may tell just how much.”

“In all fairness,” Susan told her. “Troy and Julie hadn’t told me a lot about you before we met. And the things they had to say… weren’t bad, but certainly not good. I didn’t even know your name until that moment, just that there was ‘someone else out there who can Do What We Do.’”

“God,” Helen replied. “They prepared you for Dr. Doom!” She thought for a moment. “Ok, yeah. I totally see that. After Julie and I parted in Madrid, I didn’t really talk to them for a while; except for the odd ‘I’ve got a problem that only you and Troy can understand, and can’t or don’t want to bug Troy about it’ call. They always answered those, and so did I. Whatever you come away thinking of me, Susan, I hope you know that you’ve got that, too. I wish I’d been better about doing it back then.”

Helen resumed smoking as Susan replied.

“I know. And I hope I’ve proved it as well.” Helen nodded and Susan continued. “I know that a big part of this has to do with me, too. Chad always seemed to sense when he was about to push me to the point of leaving him or telling someone about the things he did to me, and suddenly, he’d bring home flowers, or order pizza and let me pick a movie, even ‘that dorky stuff you like.’ And he’d be nice for a day or two before starting back up again.”

“Yeah, if Wade did anything nice or slightly loving, it was a setup for later.” Helen thought for a drag, and coughed a bit on the exhale as something dawned on her. “Oh, fuck! Oh, Susan! No wonder you thought that of me! I know, again, that it forgives nothing, however, I hope that I can at least tell you who I was back then. Not out of any effort at pity, simply so that you measure it against who I’ve been since that time. I would hope you don’t know as much as I do about probation and parole hearings. That said, it’s the procedure to which I’m most accustomed.”

Susan agreed. Helen finished her cup. Susan got up to pour her another, but she insisted on doing it herself. After a couple of fumbles with sugar cubes, Susan finished the job for her.

“Eh, I loosened it for ya,” Helen said with a smile. Susan had heard her say that before and got a kick out of it. “Well, I guess it all starts with Troy & Julie.”

“Most things do, yeah.” Susan replied. Helen stirred her cup, looked down at the ground, then back up at Susan before speaking.

“I love those two so fucking much. I always have. I’m not going to bore you with the ‘daddy beat me’ shit; you know all about that. I respect you too much to try to ‘play that card,’ like it’s some note from Mommy, excusing me from The Human Race.”

Susan nodded and commented.

“Yeah. Someone told me once about laying all our tragedy cards on the table and seeing who wins.”

Helen leaned forward and cupped her forehead in her right hand. The motion of her neck was felt in her shoulder, but she didn’t care.

“You weren’t insulting me when you said I was a bitch, just being really accurate. What I will say, is that I know I would have died long ago without them and Propappou. Through most of my childhood and teen years, they saved my life again and again. They taught me The Thing because Wade just decided one night, “time to kill the little bitch.’ They’re my family, in as real a way as I know that they’re yours, Susan. But at the same time, they were always sad and scared for me. And then they were worried about what I’d do with The Thing. For good reason. I thought Life fucking owed me for dumping me into the Parker family, and I used it to collect on that debt.”

“Like seducing and marrying your way to the throne?” Susan asked.

Helen’s reaction wasn’t so much hurt as “Yeah, I expected that to come up.”

“That’s the popular version, and the one I chose to let them believe. When I first met my husband, Julie and I had just had our ‘final argument,’ and… well, Vincenzo was quite a handsome old fellow. I’m not a complete Silver Foxhound, but you know how they say that women are attracted to men who remind them of their fathers? Well, the man I regard as my father fought in World War I. And I don’t deny that I had dollar signs in my eyes when I approached him, but can’t one thing become another? Can’t you meet someone who sees right through the façade you put on for everyone else and just… reaches into your heart and pulls out the person you wish you were?”

“That can certainly happen, yes.” Susan mused, remembering how a trip to the library to use the computer had changed her entire life.

“Before him, I had met exactly two men, in the entire world, that I would describe as ‘good.’ One was denied me by Wade and the courts, the other by the fact that his heart belonged to the girl I’d just broken up with; because I knew her heart belonged to him, too; even if both of them were too blind to see it.”

“They were a couple when we met,” Susan commented. “I went from Chad to Troy, with no stops in-between.”

“That’s got to be the complete opposite ends of the spectrum as far as men go.” Helen replied with a laugh. Susan laughed too, and Helen avoided watching her breasts bounce as she did. Even though Susan was fully dressed, Helen could still picture Suzy-Q’s body under her dress. She remembered Suzy-Q saying that she and ‘the others’ all looked exactly like Susan, and caught herself wondering how accurate the statement had been.

Susan broke the silence after the laughter died down and before it had time to get awkward.

“And my one experience with another woman before I’d met them had been a disaster. Julie totally opened my eyes there. Well, Claire first, then Julie. I’ve never seen two people as much in love as her and Troy, and I feel honored that they share it with me. I get that you love them as much as I do, Helen. And I know you’d still be with one or both of them today, if the thought of being either of their ‘second choice,’ much less both of them, wasn’t too much for you. They never make me feel like that. In fact, Julie was worried I might feel it after they got back from here. They didn’t have to worry, but… er… I really liked how they went about it. It’s what motivated me to call you that first time. When I moved in, they reserved their weeknights for ‘Just Us Time,’ and I was happy to give it to them. Still am, that was my plan for the weekend when we got the news about you. But now, they call it “Just Us and Susan if She Wants Time.”

Helen beamed to hear that.

“I truly envy you, Susan. Both of them were my first love, back when even suggesting that they get together was always met with an ‘eww’ from both parties. And the night we had when they were here last time was positively magical.”

The cigarette had burned out again, so she lit another and leaned in conspiratorially. Moving her lower back to bend didn’t hurt as much.

“Before that night,” she whispered to Susan, making her think of how she’d acted on the video during the drunk bit. “I hadn’t gone down on a guy since…” Helen felt the vibe that it was too early for ‘girl talk,’ and backed out of the sentence, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Ok, you probably don’t want to hear the GOOD parts of my sex life with Vincenzo either.”

“You’d be right, there.” Susan said with a smirk.

“I’ll just leave it at ‘he never needed those little blue pills,’ then. He was so… different from all the pretty rich boys and girls that Julie and I had fucked and/or extracted money and gifts from all our lives. Troy was back in America in college then, so without him to reign us in, we both basically took whatever we wanted from the mega-rich party crowd. For all their concern about how I take things too far, I know you’ve seen Julie’s jewelry collection. Troy was still sort-of over our shoulders, and we never took any of them for more than they could afford to lose, for what that’s worth.

“And then I met him. A man who knew what it was to have anything he wanted except the person he loved. Contessa Sofia died young, you know. He’d been alone for a long time. And I loved him enough to endure the shouts of ‘gold-digger’ and ‘graverobber’ whenever we went out in public. Sometimes I’d do The Thing to someone who got in my face with it, but never in front of Vincenzo.”

Susan noticed the cigarette trembling a bit between Helen’s fingers, and that her eyes were misting over.

“And then he died, Susan. He gave me his love one last time, and then collapsed dead on top of me. My husband was still inside me when he died, and I was pinned under his body.” Tears began to trail from her eyes. “The guards were used to me being loud in the bedroom at that point. By the time they noticed I was screaming for help, I’d just managed to push Vincenzo off of me and get a blanket over him, so at least they didn’t find him like that. And I was alone again, but now I was expected to rule a country. Maria was too young to be crowned, and I won’t go into just how on fire this country would be right now if one of the ‘Sackville San Finziones’ took the throne, so it had to be me. I used The Thing to assume control, for Vincenzo’s sake; to protect his dream. Troy and Julie got the Happily Ever After; I got the crown and the castle and the problems that come with them.”

Although she hadn’t been asked, Jeanne had brought a box of tissues with the tea. Susan took some out and handed them to Helen. She wiped the tears away, but more were coming.

“I was too busy trying to figure out what the hell I was doing here to get away, when Troy called to tell me that Propappou was in his final days. He could barely speak by then. I asked Troy to bring the phone up to his ear so I could tell him I loved him. I couldn’t quite make out what he said, but I’m pretty sure there was a ‘S’ayapo, Petalouda Emay’ in there. That… means…”

Susan filled in the gap while Helen sobbed.

“’I love you, My Butterfly,’ yeah. They don’t use it around the house often, however, I’ve picked up that much Greek from them; and Troy and Julie have told me some stories about you and Propappou now. They said that’s what he called you.”

“Troy and Julie hadn’t told him about Vincenzo’s passing before him. He died not knowing his Petalouda was going to be alone in the world without him. I owe them forever just for that. And I couldn’t let them see me alone again. Seeing their heartbreak would have broken mine. Troy was losing his great-grandfather, ultimately, so was Julie; and I was losing my father. I wanted to scream to Troy ‘I’ve been sleeping on the Throne and in different rooms every night for the past month; and I’m starting to miss the smell of cocaine, because I can’t go back into the bedroom where my husband died! And while I’ve got you on the line, how the fuck do I balance a National Budget?’”

Helena took another deep breath.

“I know now, that I could have picked up the phone or logged into Skype at any time, and all the personal shit going on between the three of us could go fuck itself. They’d have been right here; just like you all are now. I heard about how you kept them together on the way here; thank you for that too. And no, you don’t have to call me Contessa or worry about getting drafted for accepting the offer.”

Susan nodded and drank her tea. Helen’s tears began to subside as she continued.

“I couldn’t face them that way: Sad, scared Helen Parker, in trouble and needing their saving once more. I would have rather they thought of me as an evil, power-hungry bitch; happy to fuck my way to the throne, than look at me like that again. I never expected to be invited to the wedding, and I was still worried that they’d see through the money and the clothes and the power that I’d learned to adjust to by then; so, I laid it on thick. And you paid for it.

“And that’s who I was when we met; when Contessa Helena de San Finzione disregarded you as a person, Susan. And every time I’ve learned a little more about you, about how much more special you are than you can possibly guess, I’ve felt the Hammer of Guilt pound down on me with ‘You Wronged This Woman!’ The only other person who can make me feel that,” She felt another tear coming and dabbed it with the tissue. “Calls me ‘Great-Grandmama’ now. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I did to her.” She looked Susan in the eye and gave a weak smile. “Fortunately, I’ve already learned what a mistake it is trying to buy the forgiveness of someone who truly matters to me.”

Susan set down her cup.

“Well, let me start by saying that I accept your apology, Helen. I won’t make you wait for that part. Living with Troy and Julie, I’ve seen how much The Thing We Do is a part of them, too. Julie’s never gotten a ticket in that Ferrari, and when we get back, I know that all of Troy’s professors are going to have no problem letting him make up any tests he’s missed. And a few of the lessons they’ve taught me consisted of ‘Here’s something Helen did with it. Now, don’t do that.’”

Helen lit another cigarette. She’d been taking puffs and drags during the conversation, but had mostly let the last one burn away as well.

“I come from a long line of bad examples.” Helen said with a sheepish grin, nodding to the cigarette as if offering it as proof.

“And the first time I saw you…”

Helen lifted her hand in a gesture of wanting to say something about that, so Susan let her.

“I did The Thing and made you into a sleepy kitten, then made you forget all about me. And then I called you a ‘wounded bird,’ and don’t think I’m not aware of the hypocrisy there. So, what reason would you have NOT to think I’m like that every day to everyone?”

“Exactly,” Susan replied. “You know, most of the time, when someone interrupts me, it’s really annoying, but with you, it seems like you’re just helping me complete my thought.”

A warm smile appeared on Helen’s face. One that she hoped didn’t look too much like a knowing one.

“I think that’s one of the things I’ve enjoyed most about talking to you, Susan. Most people tell La Contessa what they think she wants to hear. Ramirez and a few select others tell me what I need to hear; you’re the only one who tells me what I ought to hear.”

“Well, thanks. And yes, your actions since HAVE shown that you’re really striving for the better, Helen. There isn’t a lot we can do about that past.” Susan picked up the teapot, felt that it had gone cold, and put it back down. “Unless your Ministry of Science has developed time travel…”

Helen laughed at that.

“If I had a TARDIS, don’t you think THAT’S where we’d be having this talk?”

“It would have been a huge point in your favor. That makes me think of the wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey nature of things, though. I don’t remember our first meeting; so, by forgiving you, that means it never happened. And the woman that I’ve heard so much about on my way here? The one I’ve talked to online a few times? She sounds like someone worth getting to know. And I think I’d like to do that.”

Susan stood up, walked over to Helen, and extended her hand.

“Hi. Hy name’s Susan Bailey.”

Helen took her hand.

“Helen Parker, it’s nice to finally meet you, Susan.”

* * *

The rest of the week passed quickly. All of them, including La Contessa, came to Stavros’ family dinner that evening. They told her she’d always been welcome, and not just because by law, Helen was allowed everywhere in San Finzione. She gave Troy, Julie, and Susan the Royal Tour, when she didn’t have to rest; and let all of them take pictures of themselves on the Throne. By their last day in San Finzione, Dr. Tenente Maisson had cleared Helena to stand and walk for a couple of minutes every few hours; however, sexual activity was still too risky for another week, at least. And so, they spent most of their evenings catching Susan up on old stories and showing each other new things they’d been doing with The Thing They Do.

“Two weeks of pent-up Helena, in need of unleashing,” Julie said as they stood on the red carpet leading up the stairs to the Air Finzione SST home; giving her first girlfriend a passionate kiss and goodbye hug. Behind them, baggage handlers loaded their luggage and some large crates into the plane. “And now, with the flight time just a bit less than a round trip drive from Anchorage to Fairbanks…” She turned to her husband. “Troy, hon, we got anything happening next weekend?”

Troy’s response was to say nothing, but take out his phone and start checking their calendar. The other three laughed at him. Julie made her way up the ramp.

“If it helps, you all DO have free Contessa Class tickets for life on any Air Finzione flight,” Helen responded, turning to Susan. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” she said jokingly. “I’m a Contessa. Grand, magnanimous gestures are part of my job description. My friends get stuff. Not because I want them to like me, but because I like them and I can. You’ll adjust.”

Susan walked up to Helen and smiled.

“As long as you didn’t sneak any sports cars on board…”

“Oh no,” Helen replied. “Just Vespas.”

Susan raised an eyebrow, Helen grinned at it.

“I’ve been advised against thinking you’re joking about lavish gifts, Helen.”

“You call Vespas lavish?” Susan remained silent. “I thought it’d be fun,” Helen said, cocking her head with somewhat less pain now and a broad smile. “You guys got to watch me putt around in that thing for the past few days.” She gestured to the wheelchair. “I figured next time I see you, we can all putt around together.”

“Well,” Susan said with a sigh. “At least we don’t have to expand the garage again.” She smiled, shook hands with Helen, they gave each other cheek kisses.

“Don’t die.” They whispered simultaneously and smiled before Susan boarded the plane.

Troy stood before Helen last.

“Julie’s portrait is great.” Helen told him. “And I gave my word.”

Jeanne approached with a plastic garment bag. Inside was Propappou’s smoking jacket, the scent sealed in by the bag. Troy thought for a moment before speaking.

“You know, we probably won’t be able to make it back next week. However, we’re going to come for our Anniversary, and we’ll be back a month after to help with the Festival of Cupid. Maybe you can hold onto it until the anniversary trip, at least. But THEN, I’m gonna want to take it home.”

Helen wrapped her good arm around him and met his lips. First like a friend, then like a lover, and then, like a relative; because, even moreso than Julie, he was all three to her. She nodded at Jeanne, who spun around and returned the bag to the limousine.

“If there’s enough Medina DNA on that thing to clone, I’m putting my science people on it. Fair warning.”

“S’ayapo, Petalouda Emay,” Troy whispered to her with one more hug before boarding, himself.

Once all three were out of sight, Colleen peeked out from in front of the stair car and looked at Helena. She smiled and nodded, and Colleen got out of the truck, grabbed an overnight bag, and boarded the plane, wearing her old stewardess uniform. She ran up the stairs after them and closed the door.

Helena got back into the chair and wheeled over to the limousine while the engines powered up. Jeanne and Scappa helped her in, then went to load the chair into the vehicle’s trunk. When they shut the doors, she looked across the back seats of the limo, and Generalissimo Ramirez.

“And what now, Contessa.” He asked, then waited for her response.

Helena watched as their plane made it to the runway, sped up, and lifted off the ground, climbing higher as it sent the people she loved back home. She then lit a cigarette and turned to Ramirez.

“Now,” she said. “We get to work on this shit.”