Caught in Crazed Clare's Calloused Clutches

With that they could hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Speading the curtains Iva screamed "Fuck, fuck, its Clare, she's back".

"What do you mean, you crazy bitch?" Shandy demanded. "It can't be Clare. She only just left a few minutes ago."

Iva peered back through the window. "Exactly how many vermilion coloured Audi's do you think they made?" Iva replied with unnecessary sarcasm.

Shandy and Carmene joined Iva at the window and stood transfixed as Clare Voyant and Will van Pill pulled themselves out of Clare's slut-red vehicle. "Shut up!" Clare screamed at her so-called business manager. "Just shut the fuck UP!" She slammed shut the door and started making her way towards the front of the house.

"Oooo-arrr!" Carmene sing-songed under her breath, "somebody's not hap-py!"

As much as she wanted to hear the rest of this conversation, Shandy knew that it was time to get the hell out of this monument to the taste of the nouveau riche. "Follow me," she told her two sequined sidekicks. She led them back to the top of the stairs. On their way in she'd spotted a closet under the curving stairway that led up to Clare's boudoir. If they could just discretely ensconce themselves in there for the time being, they could easily slip out the front door after Clare had kicked Will van Pill out and gone to bed.

But Shandy had underestimated Clare Voyant's ability to negotiate treacherous gravel in four-inch crocodile suede Salvatore Ferragamo mules. They had only started down the stairs when Clare's front door swung open.

"HOW COULD YOU LOSE THAT KEY???" Clare bellowed like a banshee in nipple clamps. She was so distracted that she failed to see Shandy, Iva and Carmene retreat into her white-on-white-on-white bedroom.

"Where can we hide? Where can we hide?" Iva and Carmene wailed in unison.

"The walk-in closet!" Shandy pushed her cohorts into Clare's jam-packed closet and closed the door behind them just as Clare threw open her boudoir doors with a clang.

"You are such an imbecile!" Clare hissed at Will. "I trusted you with that key. You know what that box holds. Anyone who has that key and locates the box, holds my life, my entire FUTURE in their hands." The three glittering glamourpusses heard Clare wrench off her Black Brazilian Bombshell Ferragamos and hurl them across to the other side of the room. "If the contents of that box gets out, I am ruined. RUINED!"

"It can't have gone far," Will van Pill was trying hard to pacify the unpacifyable. "It's bound to turn up. These things always do."

"We're not talking about some lost eyelash curlers, you whacked-out whackjob. Do you understand that I cannot open DDQ without access to the contents of that box? Without that key, DDQ is history before it's even opened."

"But that means nobody will see my spectacular finale: KEBAB'S KRAZY KAVALCADE. Donna's going to be devastated."

Shandy looked down at the pointy hood with the letters KKK spelled out in orange sequins. With all the excitement going on, she'd forgotten that she still had it in her hand.

"What sort of drag queen finale has pointy headwear with the letters KKK stitched on it?" Iva arksed.

"The clueless kind," Shandy replied and slung the hideous thing into the deepest recesses of the closet.

"Oh, why am I even bothering?" Clare hissed out. "You barely know what day it is. Why oh why did I trust you with something so important? Well, don't just stand there, fetch my dressing gown."

The three trembling trespassers looked at each other, their lips, lavished in L'Oreal Sheer Juicy Lip Gloss Number 7, parted in fear. "Quick!" Shandy told the others and they scampered down the walk-in closet to the far door. It was still open thank god. They shot through the door and closed it behind them.

Clare's crude conniption fits were a dull, muffled roar now. "We're safe for the moment," Shandy told her cohorts.

"Yeah, but for how long?" Iva asked. "I can feel my L'Oreal Sheer Juicy Lip Gloss Number 7 starting to wear off and you know how naked I feel without my lip gloss."

"Yeah," Carmene laughed, "and we know how you feel about being naked."

While her two gabbing girlfriends gaily giggled, Shandy made her way towards a thin crack of light that glowed softly from the far side of the rear room. She knelt down and ran her finger along it, then up one side. Why, it was a door! She felt around for a handle but found nothing. Nor was there a keypad like the one they used to get into this room with. Shit crap and double fuck! They were locked in!

Shandy pulled out her leopard skin print mobile phone and speed dialed the first name on the list. "Hel-Hello...?" the husky male voice answered, all low and breathy.

"Dirk my darling, tis moi," Shandy whispered into her phone.

"Oh baby, I've been waiting up for you," Dirk replied. "And when I say up, I mean UP."

"Oh darling, I'm in a terri--wait, what did you say?"

"I'm laying here, completely naked, horny as hell and hard as a rock. Where have you been, baby? I don't think I can hold off much longer."

"Oh Dirk, you dirty, dirty boy. So you're naked, huh?" Shandy pictured Dirk's rippling body etched with moonlight, his broad pecs, sprayed with silky hair, panting in the soft glow of the vanilla-scented candles he always lit whenever they made their brand of wild, animal love. Then she couldn't help but let her mind wander down past the love trail that led from his navel to his spectacular gob-choker. Oh how she longed to lick its shaft and tease its ripe, firm head.

"What are you wearing?" Dirk asked in a low groan. "Is it lacy? Delicate? Will I be able to rip it from your body with one almighty roar?"

Shandy couldn't help herself but let out an orgasmic gasp. "As a matter of fact, I'm wearing-" But then a bothersome tap on her shoulder completely shattered the mood.

"I'm sorry," Iva said, although Shandy could tell that she wasn't sorry in the slightest, "but could you put Phone Sex Phil on hold long enough to for me to remind you that we're in a bit of a pickle here...?"

Shandy ha-a-a-ted to admit it but Iva had a point. Reluctantly she cut her luscious lover off mid stroke "Dirk. I have something I need to tell you."

"Does it involve patent leather and erotic ass-play?"

"No," Shandalier admitted reluctantly, "but I'll get back to you on that."

"What is it?" Dirk sounded worried now. But was he, Shandy couldn't help wondering, still granite hard...? "Where are you? I'll come and get you."

"I'm at Clare Voyant's," Shandy explained.

"She's taken you hostage?!"

"Mmmm...not exactly. I'm here with Iva and Carmene and we're ... well ... how should I put this? We've locked ourselves in a secret room at the back of her outrageously huge walk in closet. I've wanted a walk-in closet all my life but I never - and I mean NEVER - pictured one this big!"

"Shandalier, my sweet, are you saying that you trespassed into Clare Voyant's property and you broke into her house?"

Shandy let out a haughty sniff. "Well darling, if you put it like that it sounds tacky and I can assure you that I've not committed an act of tackiness since I was in the Miss Boiling Springs Beauty Pageant in 1978 and the judge offered...well, let's save that story for another time."

At that point Shandy heard a strange gurgling noise coming from somewhere behind her. "Shandy!" she heard Carmene's voice call out softly but urgently. "Oh Shandy, I think we have an emergency."

"I am quite aware that we're in trouble," Shandy retorted impatiently.

"It's Iva. She's having some sort of attack. I think it's the claustrophobia. She hates being squished up in small places like this. Even if it is filled with the most fabulous haute couture we've ever seen in all our live-long days."

Shandy peered through the couture-slathered semi-darkness to see Iva sprawled out on the Chilean silk shagpile; she was shaking like an artificial peacock feather. "Oh for god's sake," Shandy muttered, "Of all times to choose..." Then she heard Dirk's voice all out from her mobile phone. "Shandy? Shandy" Are you still there? Speak to me!"

But before she could respond, there was a series of soft beeps. By the 9th beep, Shandy realised that someone was pressing the keypad outside the door and was about to come in. Leaving poor convulsing Iva to fend for her own damn self, the other two dove behind a stack of devastatingly gorgeous Christian Lacroix numbers that made Shandy wish she'd brought a huge clutch purse.

A broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted figure filled the doorway in mysterious silhouette. Shandy held her breath. Carmene held her tits. "I know you're in there!" the manly man said.

"Wait!" Shandy whispered to Carmene who was holding onto her tits way longer than necessary. "I know that voice! I know that waist! I know those shoulders!" She stood up. "Saul? Is that you?"

"Yes," Morty's hard-bodied son replied. "It's me."

Shandy heard Carmene next to her positively gurgling with pleasure. "But how-?"

Saul stepped into the secret room. "I've been here all along," he explained. "Hiding amongst all the furs."

"That bitch has furs too?" Iva demanded. Apparently the sight of Saul's hulking frame had brought her out of her fit. "God I hate her."

"But why are you here?" Shandy asked.

"I don't have the key but I know what the box it opens looks like. I snuck in here to see if I could find it. It has everything. The bribes, the blackmailing, photos, confessions. You have no idea what Clare's been up to."

"Oh, but I think I can work it out," Shandalier responded. "Well guess what, my gorgeous little drop dead hunk of boy meat. We have the key. So let's join forces and together we can bring this motherfucker down!"

"I wouldn't be so quick to count my Versace g-strings if I were you."

The sound of Clare's voice shocked everyone in the tiny, darkened room. They spun around to see the pseudo psychic psycho standing in the doorway that Shandy had been groping earlier. In Clare's hand Shandy could make out a lady-sized silver revolver, its side panels inlaid with the most darling sheaths of jade. Clare raised it to chest level.

"Now," she whispered harshly, "speaking of dropping dead..."