Author's Note: This part continues immediately after PART II with Sarah as the narrator.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated.
PART III: The Wager
"I didn't know it was asshole day at the Grasso house," said Katie as she stood up, still facing the other way. I couldn't see her face but I could hear the sneer forming on her lips. She still held the fallen statuette in her hand and absent-mindedly rubbed its marble bosom.
"Do you know why I invited you here this afternoon?" I asked casually, trying to avoid conflict.
Katie slowly placed her lips upon the statuette before laying it back down to where it once was. She then turned around and faced me with her charming yet deceiving smile – the infamous smile that made countless others drop to their knees.
"I hoped it might be for the pleasure of my company," she haughtily answered.
"I need you," I say in a serious tone, unaffected by her allure.
Katie licked her lips at the sound of the word "need," which she took as an invitation to position herself closer. She placed herself behind me as she wrapped her long, slinky arms around my waist. Meeting no resistance, she trailed soft, wet kisses along my neck before stopping at her destination where she seductively whispered, "I need you too."
I smiled and caressed her face before playfully pushing her away.
"Do you remember when Gavin Gercourt, that elitist son-of-a-bitch, dumped me over the Fourth of July weekend for that clichéd, vapid cheerleader –"
"Ex-cheerleader," corrected Katie, making sure I didn't overlook her conquest.
"– ex-cheerleader whore, Lillian Reinhardt?"
"How could I not? You only talked about it all summer," she complained before collapsing onto the French Rococo style chaise longue.
"Well that was the first time anyone has ever done that to me. Rejection is such a vengeful feeling... which I'm sure you do remember."
"What's your point?" Katie seethed, annoyed that her failure had entered into the conversation.
"Well, in Lillian's permanent absence, it seems that dear Gercourt has fallen for someone else – the complete anti-thesis of what Lillian represented."
"You don't mean?" Katie asked in mock-surprise.
"None other than pure, naïve Virgin Manning herself."
"Well, fuck me!" scoffed Katie incredulously.
"That's the idea," I pointed out.
Suddenly Katie's interest became genuine.
"I'm listening."
"I need you, Katie," I pleaded as I fell backwards into her arms.
"Just tell me what you need me to do," she whispered as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"I need you to seduce our young Gracie; introduce her to your world of decadence and debauchery; turn her into the new premier tramp of Upton Sinclair."
"Sounds intriguing," she replied as she slowly traced her kisses with her fingertips – this time going in the direction opposite before.
"Yes. Love and revenge – two of your favorites." I exhaled, barely able to breathe. "She's quite cute you know," I continued while letting Katie's hands roam their way further down. "Young supple breasts...a tight firm ass...uncharted pootie." I paused before saying this last word in order to turn around and stare into Katie's enthrallingly green, mossy eyes. "Be her Captain Picard, Katie," I instructed as I leaned in close and drew her near. "Boldly go...where no man...has gone before." I pulled away every two or three words in order to get the message clear.
Katie was ravenous under my lips. She willfully submitted to my control and I knew that I would hear her agreement at any moment...
"I can't," responded Katie, pulling away.
"What?" I shrieked, frankly shocked at this unexpected outcome.
"Oh come on, Sarah. It's too easy." Katie got up and started for the door. "Why don't you get one of your moron friends to do it? I have my reputation to think of."
"Oh but getting Sinclair's resident slut to spread her legs for you – that's a challenge?" I snickered contemptuously.
Katie paused at the door. She turned around revealing that her smirk, long gone from her face, was replaced by a look of clear annoyance.
"I don't see why you can't do it?" she scoffed.
"Because my dear Katoushka, unlike you, my position in our selective clique is to be the cheery, wholesome Mandy Moore character whom everybody loves."
"So?" retorted Katie coolly.
"So – " I countered in the same cool voice, only tinged with poison. "Over-sexed bitch was already taken."
Expecting a retaliation of great fury, I was surprised to be met, instead, by a bout of great laughter.
"I suppose you want me to explain," offered Katie as her signature smile found its way onto her lips.
"You had better." I demanded, not letting my guard down.
Katie reached into her inner coat pocket and pulled out a folded magazine which she threw unto the table in front of me. I half-expected it to be porn.
"Voila!" she proclaimed as the magazine unfolded to reveal a trivial teen periodical with the new Hollywood "It-girl" gracing the cover – an anorexic beauty-queen whose new-found Hollywood life assured her the promising future of DUI arrests and months in rehab; perhaps even an acquittal of manslaughter charges because only in America is there such a thing as "celebrity immunity."
"Mischa Barton? Ooh, what a challenge." I ridiculed, openly unimpressed.
"Shut up and turn to page 64," she commanded, clearly angered at my derision of the girl who could pass off as her long-lost twin.
Without argument, I turned to the said page.
"A Virgin's Manifesto: Why I Plan to Wait, by Jessie Sammler," I read aloud mockingly.
A disgustingly cute angelic figure shone beneath the title – a blonde girl whose wide-set blue eyes made her look younger than she actually was. Her long golden locks fell just beneath her shoulders in immaculate ringlet curls, adorning her white satin gown; but it was her porcelain white complexion which gave Jessie her ethereal glow.
"Jesus Christ, is she for real?" I scorned, absolutely sickened by this girl's Hallmark view on life – chastity until the discovery of true love.
"Oh yes. She's daddy's little angel." said Katie as she knelt before me, feigning prayer. "A paradigm of chastity and virtue."
"So how do you expect to find her?" I asked, deeply uninterested in Mrs. Jesus. "By searching every convent in the country?"
"Why would I go through such extreme measures when I know for a fact that our little angel is going to be joining us this spring?"
"What do you mean by 'us'?" I asked warily.
"You, me... and the entire student body of Upton Sinclair."
"No fucking way!" I said at a volume higher than I expected it to be. "How?!"
"It seemed that Daddy needed a new architect for the Lycos project. The old one fled to Vegas on account of a scandal involving his daughter." Katie gave a knowing look before continuing. "I'm a little blurry on the details – but I do know that a very trusting reference suggested Jessie's father to the old man."
"You didn't."
"The project takes off in two weeks under the new supervision of Rick Sammler."
Katie smiled in self-congratulation.
"You conniving bitch," I teased.
"You conniving over-sexed bitch," corrected Katie the smart-ass.
She then crawled back to where she had left me before, like a stray cat who only returned to be fed. But I denied her advance, not wanting to satisfy the appetite of this greedy pussy.
"I applaud your success in getting her here," I said as I stood up. "But to have her betray her morals and everything that she's ever believed in for you? You don't stand a chance. Even this is out of your league."
I looked down at the arrogant girl beneath me. She narrowed her eyes in a mocking gesture to mirror my own as she stood up to be at level with me. But Katie always stood two inches higher.
"Care to make a wager on that?" she offered, her smug grin never faltering.
I tried to remain eye contact but instinctively I averted my gaze to avoid being caught in my lie –
"Why would I when you have nothing that I want?"
"Surely there has to be something," she whispered, leaning in closer.
As Katie drew near, I felt her breath against my skin – warm and intoxicating – like the flame of the candlelight just before the burn; and as her searing lips were about to touch mine...
I turned away.
"My, you are persistent," I coldly remarked as Katie settled for my cheek.
"Well you know me – never the quitter."
I walked over to the liquor cabinet at the other side of the room and poured myself a glass of absinthe – the forbidden toxin that has been romanticized by great artists such as Picasso and Van Gogh before supposedly driving them insane.
"Yes, well, I'm afraid you have to be leaving now," I announced. "I'm expecting company."
Instantly, Katie's lips curled into a sneer which amused me greatly.
"How is that new lover of yours?" she scorned, obviously displeased by this recent revelation.
"Who?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "Do you mean Christopher?"
"Is that his name?"
"Why Katie, are you jealous?" I teased.
"No..." she answered in complete seriousness. "I'm extremely jealous. Christopher is a moron. He's completely inadequate as a lover."
"What makes you say that?" I inquired, taking a sip of La Fée Verte.
"The fact that you have to get liquored up every time he comes over."
I took the glass down from my lips. She was right. Christopher was a sophomore who knew nothing about the art of foreplay and seduction. He promised me "the fuck of a lifetime" countless times before only to disappoint me five minutes later; nevertheless, I kept him around for sizeable reasons.
"Are you telling me that I should break up with Christopher?" I asked, taking up the glass again.
"I'm not telling you to break up with anybody. I'm merely suggesting that you arrange an infidelity with someone more experienced... like me for example."
I paused for a moment to stare into the dregs of my glass before downing its bitter satisfaction.
"All right." I answered casually.
"All right?" asked Katie in disbelief.
"But after you succeed in deflowering our young Jessie."
"Is that all?" mused Katie, over-confident.
"With proof."
"Ah..." Katie found the catch. "What kind of proof?"
"Use your imagination," I devilishly instructed.
Hesitantly, Katie reached out her hand.
"All right... You've got yourself a deal."
