Dominance in Despair

Chapter 9

The Calm Before

Author's note: My apologies for the extended absence. Long story short, college restarted and I started, and summarily ended, a relationship that kept me away from our favorite sexual deviant. But, now that my classes are in full swing and I have free time again, I get to bring those stories to my readers.

I will say that, even though not much happens here, it sets up the next chapter, which will be a doozy.

Finally, while I was considering where to take the story from here, I considered that DiD would make a decent Simpsons fan comic. Anyone with an artistic talent who thinks the same, feel free to drop me a PM. A link to a sample of your work would be handy.

"Well, if it isn't Marjorie J. Bouvier."

Marge whipped her head around as she exited her cab in front of the hotel, a smile spreading across her face as she saw the owner of the familiar, gritty voice.

"Selma!" Marge exclaimed as she hugged her older sister, dropping her luggage on the sidewalk in the process as the taxi slinked off into the Capital City gridlock. "How did you know I was coming?"

"Hey, I work at the courthouse, remember?" Selma replied. It had been a while since Patty and Selma relocated with their mother to Capital City. As Patty likes to say, it's easy living it up in the big city on a stash of cigarette settlement cash.

Marge giggled, her hand over her mouth. "I should have figured. Where's Patty?"

"She's with Ma," Selma replied, a frown falling across her face. "She's in the hospital again."

Marge's facial expression matched her sister's as she picked up her luggage, the two walking into the lobby. "Her lungs again?"

Selma nodded. "Yeah, she's a Bouvier all right. Gonna smoke 'till the grave." She accented this statement with a mucus-filled hack of her own, which was met with an unapproving look from her younger sister.

Following a short check in, the two headed into the elevator as they travelled towards Marge's room. Selma whistled at the opulence of the wood-lined box. "Ritzy. How did you afford a room here Miss Bouvier?"

Marge blushed slightly and smiled with a meek reservation, her mind flitting back to her benefactor. "Actually, it's still Simpson until the divorce is final..."

Selma, blinking like something just finally registered, cut her sister off. "Wait a minute, why did you take a cab here? And where are the girls?"

Marge lifted her bags as the elevator lurched to a stop, the doors sliding open. "Well, I didn't want the girls to sit there in court, so my tenant is looking after them. I left him the car for that purpose."

Selma grinned and chuckled. "Oh yes, the mystery man...Paul was it?" Marge blushed slightly at the mention of his name.

"So, how sexy is he?"

"SELMA!" Marge exclaimed, a little shocked at her sister's forwardness. Granted, she knew Selma would screw anything warm and breathing, but she still hated it when she was so...forward. Especially when it involves her.

Selma just replied with a chuckle as her and Marge entered Marge's small but comfortable suite. Slapping her bags on the bed, Marge collapsed onto the sofa as Selma leaned on the wall. "So, little sister, got time to join me for coffee? To celebrate your womanly freedom?"

Marge sighed and rubbed her forehead. Womanly freedom nothing, she's still got a family to take care of, the entire reason she was here. "No, I have a meeting with Bart's lawyer in a few hours. I was about to call a cab."

Selma grunted her disapproval. "Come on, I'll take you. And we'll get coffee along the way."

Marge thought that sounded like a mighty fine idea.

"I WANT ICE CREAM!"

Paul grimaced as the six year old screamed in his ear from the back seat. "Maggie, it's 8 in the morning...you already missed your bus, and you'll be late for school! So for the last time, we are NOT getting ice cream."

The morning was just going -so- well for Paul. He woke up to find two very confused girls in the hallway, apparently thinking that "breakfast" was something served by a third party, and them boarding the bus that was pulling away in the street without it would cause the universe to implode.

As Paul waited for the light to turn red, Maggie's protests and Lisa's annoyed sighs coming from all around him, he kinda wished the universe would implode.

Marge shifted nervously as she stared across the impressive mahogany desk belonging to Bart's lawyer. To say this man was old was to say that air was full of oxygen. The few strands of hair left to this decrepit pile of bar-certified bones quivered almost as rapidly as his frail frame.

"Now, Miss Simpson," the lawyer started. "tomorrow is the final hearing on whether Bart's case can go to trial."

Marge nodded, listening intently.

"I've motioned to have the case thrown out because the security video doesn't identify Bart as the shooter," the lawyer continued, the folds of skin hanging from his face quaking like a scared chihuahua, "and if the judge rules in our favor, Bart will be released then..."

Marge gulped, the lawyer's silence hitting her gut like a lead brick. "...and if he doesn't?"

"And if he doesn't, we go to trial...I should tell you at that point, my fee schedule goes up considerably."

Marge nods solemnly, hoping for her finances sake that the judge rules in their favor.