It's Addictive: Chapter 7
I.
Kim floated down the stairs of her loft bedroom. Her eyes were dreamy, her smile mysterious. Her Ronnie was in so much trouble when next they met. He had rocked her world yesterday, and she fully intended to shake his foundations today. And then that dream she had last night. She giggled softly, could number twenty four really be that?
Satisfaction innervated her. Her emerald eyes reluctantly cracked open to investigate the small noise she had heard. He was coming in her bedroom, dressed all in black, blond hair seducing her with its wildness. "Ummmm, Ronnie, can we try number twenty four now?" She puppy pouted. His head whipped to her in surprise. He approached slowly, those pleasure providing hands reaching.
"Kimmie," he whispered, "I'm not really here, this is just a dream, only a dream." He took her Kimmunicator from her bed stand. "And this is only your fantasy." His hands touched her. Her eyes rolled up as the sensations stormed through her satiated body, sending her…
Kim halted on the landing, a small frown replacing her smile. Where had that come from? Surely not one of her dreams. She had never thought of that, never even heard a whisper that that would drive her so deeply into sensation stunned nirvana. But was it a dream? Was her Kimmunicator in her room or had he taken it. She turned to go back to her loft.
"Kimmie, I need to speak to you." A stern Anne Possible spoke from the bottom of the stairs. "Come down here and have your coffee while we talk."
"Mom, I just need to check something, then I'll be right down."
"Now, Kim, you can check whatever it is later."
"But, Mom…"
"Now, young lady."
II.
The querulous quintet gathered around the breakfast table in the Rockwieller's kitchen, cups of coffee held desperately in their hands. A series of phone calls had resulted in an impromptu pajama party and strategy session. The resulting gathering of barefoot beauties in baby dolls, negligees, and in Little Mary's case, oversize male dress shirt, was enough to stop a teen boy's heart, or fry his brain with uncontrollable lust. Finally the disgruntled silence was broken.
"You stole my idea, Bonnie, and it didn't work," Monique grumbled, "So what do we do now?"
Bonnie glared with sleep deprived eyes, "Why ask me? It's not my fault he got away, and I still want to know where he got that jet."
"Who cares," Suzie complained, "he got one and who knows where he is now, or when he's coming back."
"Think logically," Melody replied with disgust, "after all the favors he and Kim have done, he could have got a lift from lots of places. What does it matter anyway?"
Pulling her shirt further down her bare thighs, Little Mary answered. "It matters because if we knew where he went, we'd have an idea of when or if he's coming back."
"Makes sense," Melody admitted, "but I think we're going about this all wrong."
"What gave you that clue?" Bonnie said snarkily.
"Wait a minute, Bonnie, do you have an idea Melody?" Monique broke in.
"I think Amelia was right, we have to get at him through Kim." Melody grinned.
Monique slumped, "We've lost already then."
"Why?" "How come?" "What do you mean?"
"You didn't see her last night," Monique shook her head. "She might have been willing to share a bit before yesterday, but I think she's gonna get greedy now."
"C'mon, Monique, spill." Bonnie ordered, "What are you talking about."
The girls all leaned closer.
Monique's voice lowered conspiratorially. "When I went by Kim's last night, well, you know how spaced we all get …?"
"Some of us." Growled Mary.
"Yeah, the lucky ones." Suzie agreed.
Glancing at the two unchosen, Monique continued, "Well, you should have seen baby girl."
Four eager lovelies looked at her expectantly.
"She was with Ron the whole afternoon! Her mother tried, I tried, and we couldn't bring her out of it. All she would do is moan 'again' and numbers."
"Numbers, what do numbers have to do with it?" Asked Suzie.
"What does 'Ummmmahhhh, tha's the one, Ronnie, number twelve, ohhhh,' sound like to you?" Monique mimicked her friend.
The other girls stared at her, jaws loose.
"And earlier, her mom said she was moaning about number sixteen." The dark girl revealed.
Bonnies' eyes were the first to focus. "That…that sounds like he did her at least sixteen times. What did K have to say?"
"Nothing, all she could do was sleep and smile."
A collective and envious "Ohhhhh." arose.
III.
"Your father and the boys went to the rocketry swap meet in Upperton this morning, so we have plenty of privacy."
Kim glanced up from under her lashes, her mind still trying to focus under the combined attacks of suspicion and satisfaction. "Privacy for what, Mom." She tried, in her most innocent voice.
A small grin broke Anne's serious face. "Do I really need to read a list, or would you rather just tell me what happened yesterday with Ron?"
"List?" "Ron?"Kim's small voice squeaked.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," Anne smiled, "but before you go anywhere, I am going to know what is going on."
"Uh…what's going on? I don't under…"
"Kimmie," Anne interrupted, "let's start at the beginning. Why do you think you need a spanking?"
"Spanking?" Kim's voice rose two octaves. Anne just held her look "Well…ah…it's…ah…well, not really the spanking."
"Go on, what is it then? Kimmie, don't tell me you like the pain?"
"NO, mom, the pleasure."
"Ok, lost me somewhere," Anne began, "how is there any pleasure in a spanking if it's not the pain?"
"It's…It's not the spanking," Kim's face blazed, "it's what else he does."
"We are speaking about Ronald, right?" Anne asked in amazement.
"Of course we are, Mom, do you think I'd let anybody…Mom…that's just…I wouldn't…"
"Settle down, Kim, just tell me."
"Mom, you're a doctor…"
"Unless they jerked my license and didn't tell me."
"So you know anatomy pretty well, right?"
"I like to think so, why?"
"How many pleasure points does a woman have? And I mean without counting any…any…uh…"
"Private areas?"
"Thanks, that'll work."
"I never studied erotic nerve endings that much, but depending on the woman, I would say probably less than fifty, why?"
"Would you believe, over two hundred?"
"T-Two hundred?"
"Yes."
Anne Possible licked her lips, "Over two hundred…"
IV.
Ron Stoppable swung his legs to the floor of the plane. He rotated his neck, feeling the vertebrae pop. As many planes as he had slept on, he never got comfortable.
"Kim is comfortable, yeah, but that's because she uses me for a pillow." He grinned to himself. "I wonder how long we've been on the ground, and where I am?"
The cabin door opened, a figure silhouetted against the bright light from the pilot's windows.
"Who are you?" Ron squinted.
I'm Willamena Irene Du." The voice reminded him of old movie torch singers, "You can call me Will I.
"What?"
"Will I Du?" The figure wiggled forward.