Part the third, I feel like I've just written War and Peace and my left hand is in the process of transforming into a claw due to rsi, so I hope you like it!
It was the night of the party, four girls were getting dressed up, four girls getting ready, making themselves look beautiful, but only one had any real idea about what was going to take place. They had arranged to meet together at the same pub as last time before going round to the house, and once again Daisy was the first to arrive. She sat down at the same table, and was, if it were possible, even more nervous than the previous time. She scanned the crowd in the pub anxiously just as before, and her hands busied themselves by tearing a bar mat into small strips. Her face indicated that she was probably a little hot, no surprise given the warmth of the evening, but despite this she decided to keep her long, ankle length coat on and fully buttoned up.
Alice was the first one to arrive, without any coat, and proudly displaying her costume to the admiration of everyone who saw her passing by. She had really warmed to the outfit that Daisy had picked out for her, and with good reason. The black dress fitted her like a glove and was a contrast to her pale ivory skin. Her jet black hair was dead straight and hung down her back, her full, pouty lips were blood red and the heavy application of mascara fitted the ensemble perfectly. The long split exposed almost all of her fishnetted left leg and it flashed seductively as the cotton skirt of the dress swished over it. Her shiny patent shoes sparkled in the light and she seemed to have no problem in walking in the four inch heels.
She had added a toy cigarette holder and it topped off the whole dramatic and sexy outfit, Alice was dressed up as the absolute archetypal image of the vampy femme fatale and was looking very good indeed.
"Hey Daisy!" she shouted in salutation.
"Hey there Morticia!" replied Daisy.
"Woah, you're wrapped up warm," said Alice in reference to her woollen coat. Daisy seemed not to hear this remark and instead said:
"Take a seat, I'll go and get us a drink," with which she strode off to the bar. By the time she had managed to get served another of the quartet had arrived. Laura was in the middle of hugging Alice, Her denim miniskirt was rather short and her wonderfully tanned legs were totally bare, her new boots were lovely and cute at the end of them. Her red checked shirt was short sleeved and tied up in a knot, revealing a good few inches of nicely browned and impressively flat stomach. The specific item she had bought for the costume on her and Daisy's shopping trip was a baby pink cowboy hat and underneath it her brown hair was done in twin pigtails.
Laura exchanged greetings with the other two, she and Alice admired each other's costume for a moment, then she said:
"Hey Daisy, aren't you hot under there?" Daisy gave a little smile but didn't deign to reply.
"I think," said Alice, "that she's still wanting to hide whatever her amazing costume is for a little while longer."
"Oh I see," said Laura, "ratcheting up the tension levels I see." The three laughed, and Laura peeked below the table for a second.
"I think I recognise those, though," she said, and indeed poking out from underneath her coat could be seen the tall heels of the black leather boots that she had purchased whilst on the shopping trip with Laura. They were intriguing, a tantalising promise of what was to come.
"Ooo, very nice," said Alice, "even higher heels than mine, are they new?"
"They're five inches," said Daisy, "and they are indeed new, only got them on Monday."
The girls were interrupted by the arrival of the final member of the group. Fran was, like Daisy wearing a long coat, the only clue to her choice of costume the tall plastic witches' hat perched above her straight brown hair. Once she had exchanged pleasantries with her friends she whipped off the coat to reveal the rest of her outfit.
It certainly lived up to Fran's promise to Daisy to dress up sexily for the party. The black top was tight fitting and exposed her quite amazing cleavage, pushed up by a very flattering bra. She was wearing short shorts that emphasised the gorgeous curves of her ample, but still shapely behind, and her legs were exposed in all their glory. Her choice of footwear was a pair of knee high leather boots with rounded toes, a chunky heel and an inch platform. They weren't nearly as devastating as Daisy's boots, but they went well with the costume and with Fran's bubbly personality. From her bag she pulled out a short black cloak and tied it round her neck, finishing off the witch costume. Fran looked like a wonderful, bouncy, cuddly bundle of fun.
The girls admired her outfit, and Fran admired Alice and Laura's, then looked at Daisy.
"Is Daisy still being secretive?" she asked.
"She certainly is!" confirmed Alice. The blonde looked down at the floor a little embarrassed.
"Very mysterious indeed," said Laura. Daisy decided to change the subject to deflect attention away from her.
"Hey, what time is it that we're due at Bess' house?" she asked.
"She said to come round about nine," said Laura.
"So that leaves us with about forty minutes," Daisy said, "and we're far too sober for girls that are supposed to be going to a party. So you know what I think we need?"
"what?" chorused the other three.
"Shooters!" she cried, and pointed suddenly with an outstretched arm.
"To the bar!" Alice, Fran and Laura cheered and followed Daisy as she marched resolutely forth in search of alcohol.
The not inconsiderable amount of booze they managed to squeeze in before setting out had a loosening effect on the crowd. As they walked down the road leading to the home of Bess three of them were babbling away, talking excitedly about everything and nothing. Daisy, however, remained taciturn, keeping herself to herself and persisted in looking down at the toes of her pointed boots, dragging behind somewhat.
When they were finally approaching the house itself she picked up her pace though, stepping ahead of the others, leading the way down the garden path almost as if she was familiar with the route. She strode up to the dark brown and rather large and imposing front door and came to an abrupt halt in front of it, pausing with her hands on her hips. The other three caught up with her and she pointed wordlessly at a clean white piece of paper pinned to the door. In blue biro and in a nice clear rounded teacher's script it said:
"Hey Girls!
"I'm running a little late unfortunately. Go round the side of the house to the back door. The key is under the third plant pot to the right. Head down the stairs to the basement and help yourselves to a drink (or three!) and I'll be with you very soon.
"Hugs and kisses, Bess."
The quartet digested this news.
"Here's the key," said Alice, holding up the relevant object.
"Well let's go," said Daisy.
"Okay," said Laura.
"Lead on Mac Duff," said Fran. They dutifully trooped round to the back, entered the door, then started down a long flight of dimly lit stairs.
Daisy was still leading the way. As she walked down those narrow stairs she felt her mood lifting, her spirit soaring. The nervous energy that had been causing her to be a little sullen was still there, in fact her anticipation was building exponentially, but now it was working in a positive way. At each footfall, as the darkness increased she felt as if she was descending into another world, a world with different rules, with different priorities. It was a world she thought she was going to like very much indeed.
She reached the heavy dark door at the bottom and pushed it open, revealing a crack of harsh fluorescent lighting. She continued pushing, the door opening fully with a low creaking noise, like she was throwing open the gate into Hades. The girls entered the basement slowly, hesitantly. They all four of them gasped in amazement as they looked around at the spacious room, shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness of the overhead lights.
A huge plastic tarpaulin in a vibrant electric blue covered the entire concrete floor. There were only four chairs in the room, and they were of the garden variety, white plastic and without cushions or any other adornments. The only other items of conventional furniture present were three tables. The largest of these had the chairs pulled up to it and was covered with a cloth of baize. It would have looked more appropriate in a snooker club or a casino.
A second table was extremely appropriate for the occasion of a party, being as it was groaning under the weight of a staggeringly impressive amount of bottles: Beer, whiskey, vodka, tequila, it was a collection that would probably have satisfied the needs of even the late George Best.
The final table was perhaps the most mysterious. It could be told from its legs that it was a garden table, most likely belonging to the same set of outdoor furniture as the chairs. However, that was all that could be seen of it since the rest was covered in a voluminous white sheet, dirty and spotted with a myriad of multicolored paint spots, signifying its obvious previous use in decorating. Underneath it a large number of lumpy objects were concealed, though nothing of their provenance could be told at the moment.
So far the choice of furnishings in the basement was a little eccentric, but nothing too out of the ordinary, but the thing that was placed squarely in the middle of the room, dominating it in fact, was highly unusual. The four girls all recognised it; the tall dark structure, the black sheeting, the ominous large covered box at the top, the seat with the portentous red 'x' on it. It was the dunktank from the summer fete! It had been modified somewhat since last it had been in evidence. The wide intake pipe that formerly was sunk into Kirsty's swimming pool was now connected to an enormous barrel on wheels positioned out of sight (or as out of sight as it could be) behind the structure. Also the controls that once featured both a red lever and a yellow lever, now only boasted one grey lever. The tank stood there and brooded, sitting in the middle of a small paddling pool, a sign of possible bad things to come for the four girls.
Laura put her hand to her mouth.
"Oh!" she exclaimed in dismay. Alice and Fran were also looking very apprehensively at the centrepiece of the room, wondering what it could be there for, wondering who the intended victims were, and hoping fervently that it wasn't going to be them seated on the red 'X' in a little while.
"This doesn't look good," said Fran.
"No indeed," said Alice, "this whole revenge thing looks like it may get out of hand."
"Hey!" cried Daisy brightly, and changing the subject entirely, "now we're here I think it's time to show you my costume. Don't you want to see?" The other three tore their gaze away from the dunktank.
"Yeah, okay," said Fran rather distractedly. They all focused their attention on the blonde, though their faces showed that their minds were not entirely focused yet.
"Just need to add the finishing touch," she said, then pulled a hairband out of her pocket and carefully put it in place on her head. It was decorated with a pair of black stylised cat ears. Daisy whipped off her enveloping cloak in one smooth movement, displaying what she wore beneath. She placed her hands on her hips and pulled a pouting, provocative pose.
The other girls' mouths dropped open.
"Wow," breathed Alice in astonishment. Despite the strangeness of the last few minutes this sight put all of that out of their minds.
Daisy's costume was as black as night. It covered her entirely, all in one, clinging ever so tightly to her legs, to her curvy behind, to her body, to her ample breasts. It was shiny too, reflecting the light as the girl shifted about, every little move accompanied by plasticy squeaky, sexy little noises.
"Daisy!" exclaimed a shocked and scandalised Laura, "you are wearing a pvc catsuit!"
"Miaow," she purred seductively by way of reply, and gave a little pretend clawing motion.
"Very sexy, Daiz!" said Fran.
"Thank you, I do try," she said.
"It's so tight," said Alice with incredulity.
"Mmm," said Daisy, "wonderfully tight." She turned round, giving her friends a view of her rear with the pvc clinging closely to it. "So you see why I didn't want to take off my coat in the pub."
"Of course," said Fran with a giggle, "I think you certainly lived up to expectations with that outfit Daiz!"
"Oh yes indeed," agreed Laura.
"The costume to end all costumes," said Fran, "Halle Berry and Michelle Pfeiffer have nothing on your catwoman!"
"Anyway," said Daisy, now you've picked up your jaws from the floor, how about a drink?" She sashayed over to the drinks table, picked up a bottle of spirits, cocked her head to one side and asked:
"More shots anyone?"
"Yes please!" came the fervent answer from the other three.
"The way this part looks like it's headed, I think we may need them," said Fran.
The drinks table was hit hard, very hard, and the alcohol worked its magic as it flowed through the girls' systems. When they'd entered the basement they were all pretty tense, but now they were feeling a lot more relaxed, the long icy silences had given way to friendly, easy conversation, much like when they were on their way there. Daisy was joining in too now, she was completely changed from the quiet, on edge girl that she had been earlier in the day, in fact she was well on her way to being the life of the party.
"well girls," she said, taking a large swig from her glass and jabbing a finger towards the dunktank in the centre of the room, "looks like we may well end up getting a little bit messy tonight." Quietness ensued. The other three looked a little dismayed at this reminder, they'd managed to put the thoughts of the slimy sword of Damocles hanging over them. Alice was the first to speak.
"Well you'll be alright," she said in a dark accusatory tone, "any gunge will just wipe off you!" There was a moment's pause. Then a smile slowly spread over Daisy's face. She started sniggering and the others joined in, the sniggers escalated into full grown laughs, and eventually all four of them were rolling about on the floor, helpless with hilarity, paralysed with mirth for a good few minutes. The tension was certainly released now, thanks in no small measure to the effects of the booze, and the quartet were feeling a lot more at home, and a lot more optimistic that, come what may, the evening would be enjoyable.
"Okay," said Fran through her giggles, "there might be some mess. But we don't know what Bess has planned, that thing may just be down here because it needs storing and there isn't any room at the school."
"Yeah, that's true," said Laura, "I think we're all jumping to conclusions here. Let's not be too hasty."
"And in any case," said Alice, "maybe she does deserve to get revenge. After all, the sliming that we arranged for her was absolutely epic, remember the swimming pool?"
"Yeah," said Fran, "and the T.V. crew made her get gunged loads of times too."
"Besides," broke in Daisy, "I've got a feeling that this revenge thing is going to be a whole lot of fun." The others looked at her a little oddly for a second.
"I think Daisy's right," said Fran suddenly, "the evening will be fun. After all, Bess wont be doing anything to hurt us or anything, she isn't like that. And I'm sure we can trust her, she is a teacher after all." The rest of the group appreciated her logic and nodded in agreement.
"Yeah," said Alice, "let's just sit back, let events take their course and enjoy the night."
"I agree," said Laura. Daisy smiled a secret little smile to herself. Things were turning out better than she could ever have hoped for.
A crash rang out in the room as the door was suddenly flung open, a tall figure stood framed in the doorway.
"You have the right," said the figure clearly and slowly in a loud, domineering voice, "to remain amazed!" It was Bess. She stood there, legs planted firmly apart, hands on hips, defiantly looking at the girls with a stern expression on her face in an amazingly sexy, dominant cop uniform.
Her hair was flaxen, glowing in the light and falling dead straight down her back. Her beautiful face was adorned by a large pair of oh so cool aviator sunglasses with black reflective lenses, and her scarlet lips were pursed together in a most provocative pout. Her royal blue long sleeved shirt was immaculate, ironed smooth and clinging to her tightly, accentuating the curves of her large ripe, rounded breasts. It was plain and severe, the only ornamentation was the toy badge in the American style pinned to her front.
Bess was wearing a black leather miniskirt, but this was different in style and cut from the one she'd worn whilst dressing up as a schoolgirl some months before. It really was very short indeed, covering her quite spectacular posterior ever so closely, fitting ever so tightly, and barely managing to do its job and be anything more than just a belt, exposing delicious inches of smooth golden upper thigh. Despite its stunning appearance, just as with the schoolgirl costume, the skirt was upstaged by Bess' choice of footwear.
The boots were high, even higher than before. The tapering, towering heels were probably at least seven inches high, and it would have been completely impossible to walk in them had there not been an inch and a half of platform on the rounded toes. The material of the boots shined and glistened in the strong light of the basement, in much the same way as Daisy's pvc catsuit. These weren't pvc though, they were genuine, highly polished patent leather. The shafts were stiff, they buckled beautifully with any slight movement of the legs, flashing brightly. The boots were huge The tops of the boots were probably not more than about six inches away from the bottom of the skirt.
She was the very image of the sexy in charge cop. The sunglasses, the tiny black leather miniskirt, the towering thigh high boots. To top it all off she had on close fitting black leather gloves, and in one hand was carrying a toy truncheon. The guests were amazed at the sight before them. They hadn't been sure to expect from Bess' costume, but they certainly hadn't been expecting this. Despite being a young and relatively inexperienced teacher, she had never once been known to have been unable to keep order in the classroom. Seeing her like this, in this outfit with those boots on, the four girls could understand why.
"Oh please," said Bess, "pick your jaws up from the floor. You'd almost think you'd never seen a costume before." The girls laughed and stopped staring, but they could tell that secretly she was very pleased by their reaction. She walked over to the drinks table, picked a stereo that none of the others had noticed until this point up from off the floor and switched it on. The strains of some eighties soft rock began to blare out.
"Dire straits?" said Alice incredulously and pulled a face.
"Yes," replied Bess, turning towards her and gave her a defiant stare, "do you want to argue with my musical taste?" she said in a faux menacing voice.
"Er, no," said Alice quietly, backing down, biting her tongue and choosing not to deliver the rant she had prepared on the corporate yuppie crap that they were being subjected to.
Bess poured herself a stiff drink, took a large gulp, then stood and regarded the four girls in front of her. She took her truncheon in one leather gloved hand and began to bounce up and down in the other producing a dull intimidating smacking sound, the rhythm punctuating her words.
"Let's get started. Welcome, Alice, welcome Fran, welcome Laura and welcome Daisy. Welcome all of you to my little party tonight." She began to slowly pace up and down, the clicking of her high heels providing a counterpoint to the tapping of the truncheon.
"You know why you're all here tonight. You're here to have fun, to have a good time. But you're also here for me to have my revenge. Are you girls ready?" The quartet nodded dumbly, mesmerised by the performance of this masterful goddess in front of them.
"A few months ago it was the Sploshington School Grand Summer Fete, and at it I was gunged, totally messed up thanks to your plans. And now it's payback time. But don't worry. I'm not going to mess you up." There was a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. "Instead, you girls are going to mess your selves up. Do you like to play games?"
The atmosphere, which had been building up nicely with this dramatic speech from Bess, was immediately shattered at this point by a peal of laughter from Daisy. The rest of the girls looked at her askance.
"For goodness sake Bess," cried Daisy, "stop sounding like a cliched character from a bad B-movie." The blonde teacher looked crestfallen for a moment, but then brightened up and said:
"Okay, I suppose you're right, I was getting a bit carried away there."
"That's alright," said Daisy sweetly, "why don't you get to the point and explain what you've got planned for us."
"That sounds like a good idea," said Bess, "so anyway, as you may have guessed we are going to play a game tonight." She strode over to the baize covered table and took out a deck of cards. She performed a quick, professional looking riffle shuffle.
"Are you all familiar with the game of blackjack?" she asked.
"Er, I'm not sure I am," said a doubtful looking Fran.
"It's just a cooler sounding name for pontoon," said Daisy, dismissively.
"Ah, I see," said Fran, evidently satisfied.
"Good," said Bess, "well we're going to play a game of blackjack tonight. Or more precisely, I am going to be the dealer and you will be playing against me." She walked behind the game table and spread the cards out on the green baize.
"It should be a lot of fun. But there are going to be stakes to be played for."
"Ooo," said Daisy, in a mocking tone.
"Shush!" said Bess sharply, a leather covered finger pressed to her lips.
"Sorry," said Daisy, do carry on."
"Yes," said the pretend cop, "as I was saying, there will be stakes to be won. Or more accurately, there are forfeits to be avoided." She walked over to the third table, the large one with its contents covered by the sheet.
"You are going to be making up forfeit and performing them using - this!" And with that final word she pulled the sheet off the table in one smooth, quick fluid movement, revealing the table's contents to the shocked audience.
The tabletop was filled with containers of every shape and size, buckets, bowls, tins, all full of sloppy, messy substances of every conceivable variety. It was absolutely groaning, there was beans, custard, porridge, gunge of several different hues, pies, cakes, even a bucket of what looked very much like thick, oozing brown mud. Every single inch of the table was covered, every little bit of room was filled. It was a truly impressive display of mess.
The girls reaction to this sight was varied. Laura visibly blanched, despite her brown tan. Fran's eyes grew wide and her mouth opened a little. Alice's face was fixed in a mask of horrified surprise. Daisy, meanwhile, just smiled to herself as she gazed at the smorgasbord set before her.
"Before you," declaimed Bess, "lies the Table of Sploshy Delights. Every one of you will have to think of ways to dispose of some of the materials you see here on your person. And when you have decided on your own particular forfeit you will play a single hand of blackjack against me. If you win, you will remain unscathed. If you lose, you will be compelled to perform the forfeit."
"Cool," said Fran, looking like she was warming to the situation somewhat. At this point Alice broke in with some nervous laughter.
"You're joking, right?" she enquired of Bess. Bess simply looked over the top of her sunglasses and fixed her in the eyes.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" she asked. Alice didn't answer.
"I think this game's going to be very enjoyable," said Daisy, looking at the others as if trying to get them to agree with her. Laura wanted some more details about the practicalities.
"How long are we going to play for?" she asked, mindful of the extremely large quantities that had been provided.
"There will be five rounds," said Bess, "and I'll be keeping score."
"What happens at the end?" said Laura.
"There is," said Bess, "an extra special big forfeit reserved for the loser. They will take a trip to my newly refurbished, primed and better than ever Dunktank of Doom!" They could have no doubts about what she was referring to, but just in case she pointed straight to the centre of the room and at the apparatus standing in the paddling pool. The quartet gasped.
"Excellent!" cried Daisy in an exuberant manner. Fran giggled at this and said:
"Hee! Hee! be careful what you wish for Daisy!" Alice and Laura looked a lot less enthusiastic.
"I'm not sure about this," said Alice.
"Yeah," said Laura, "I'm not sure this qualifies as a 'little' revenge."
"Oh come on you guys!" said Daisy, "relax a little will you."
"I agree with her," said Fran, "look at what we did to Bess, this is still little compared to the sliming we gave her in front of the whole school. Loosen up a bit and let's have some fun." The two doubters considered these words for a minute. Bess spoke up.
"Look," she said, "I want tonight to be a bit of fun. I want revenge, sure, but I don't want you to do anything that you really don't want to do. I think you know where the door is. You're free to use it at any time if you should wish."
"Come on," implored Daisy.
"Yeah," added Fran, "please stay, it'll be much better with four of us." Laura looked at Alice. She took a long swig at her drink. Alice did the same.
"Well," said Laura, "I'm in if you're in."
"What the hell," said Alice, "let's all get messy!" Fran and Daisy cheered.
"That's the spirit!" cried Bess, and the four friends began to prepare themselves for their messy, slimy, gungy fate.
Daisy had, predictably, volunteered to go first and stepped up to the green covered table with alacrity. She had absolutely no hesitation in naming her first forfeit.
"If I lose this I'll tip a bucket of beans over my head," she said, using a matter of fact tone of voice that surprised the others by its casualness.
"Very well," said Bess, standing on the other side of the table busily and neatly shuffling the cards, "so be it." She dealt two cars face down to herself. "So this is the hand you have to beat to avoid getting beaned." Daisy nodded. She dealt one card face up. It was a king. Then another card. It was a seven.
"You have seventeen," said Bess, "so do you want to stick with that or get another card?"
"I think I'm happy with seventeen," said Daisy. The others held their breath, this was a low score, things were not looking good for her, though Daisy herself seemed serene and unruffled.
"The dealer has fourteen," said Bess, dispassionately, "and the next card is... a queen." There was a perceptible collective letting out of breath at the sight of the dealer going bust.
"Okay," said Bess, wishing to move things along, "who's up next?" There was a brief silence. The cowgirl was the first to step forward.
"I'll go next," she said, "best get it over with."
"Sensible girl," said Bess, "but what's your forfeit going to be?"
"If I lose I'll, er, I'll, er..." she faltered, paused for a moment, then an idea came to her. "If I lose I'll pour a glass of water over my head." Bess shook her head slowly and sadly.
"No, no, no," she said, "that wont do at all. Pick something more messy." A look of anguish passed over Laura's face, as she deliberated.
"Okay," she said at last, finally having thought of something she could bear, "if I lose I'll push a pie into my face."
"Much better!" said Bess, "that's what I call a forfeit, classic slapstick. Right, let's play." She swiftly dealt out her cards, then Laura's. Her total was thirteen. The dealer looked at her expectantly.
"Well?" she said.
"I'll take another card," said Laura, on edge, desperate to discover what her luck was like that evening. It was good, the card was a seven.
"I'll stick with that I think," she said confidently, knowing that she was in a very good position. Sure enough her hand bettered the dealers and Laura was off the hook for now.
"I'll go next," volunteered Alice hastily, her initial reservations having dissipated somewhat now that they were actually playing the game.
"Okay, what's your forefoot?" asked Bess.
"Erm, I don't know," said Alice, suddenly a little unsure of herself. "I know, why don't you suggest something?" Bess looked amused, but decided to go along with it.
"Okay," she said, " how about if you lose then you take that big cake over there," she indicated one of the more impressive looking confectionary creations on the mess table, "and you put it down on this chair here and sit right down in it. How does that sound?"
"Er, alright," said Alice, eyeing up the cake with interest, "that can be my forfeit." She gazed at the table intently studying the cards closely as they fell. She was given a hand of twelve. She took another card. She stared at in horror. This couldn't be so!
"A jack," said Bess with ill concealed glee, "which gives you twenty-two. And that means you're bust, Alice."
"Oh no!" she wailed in disbelief, as Fran had already obligingly pulled up one of the plastic garden chairs, and Daisy was even now picking up the huge cake and carrying it across.
"In your own time then," said Bess.
Alice stared at the cake. It did not look exactly as if it had been made for eating. The sponge sections were minimal, merely acting as structure for the vast amount of cream, sticky jam and delicious chocolate sauce. The cake was massive, probably nearly a foot in diameter, it sat there glistening.
Look at me, it seemed to say, look at me, the first item of mess to be used tonight. But I certainly wont be the last.
Alice pondered. Should she just plonk herself down quickly or lower herself down slowly? She chose the later option, she didn't think she had the nerve to do it quickly. She positioned herself in front of the chair. Slowly, inch by inch she bent her knees and lowered her beautiful behind down. The worst thing was that she couldn't see where the cake was, but the rest of the girls, looking on avidly, could see everything. Suddenly she touched the top of the slimy mound, she could feel the cream soaking though her skirt. It was cold, very cold. Alice stood up sharply and took a couple of paces forward.
"What's the matter?" asked Bess in a mocking tone, "scared of a little old cake?"
"Yeah," said Fran, "get on with it, I want to see your arse in that cake now!"
Indignant, Alice made her mind up to show them. She positioned herself behind the chair once more, screwed up her eyes tightly, and sat down with alacrity. There was a deep, prolonged damp splatting sound as her posterior sank deeper and deeper into the immense pile of cream, the sticky jam clinging to her skirt along with the chocolate sauce. Alice screamed as the cream soaked through the thin material of the skirt and began to seep into her underwear. She continued squealing as the mess completely obliterated her behind. The sponges were completely crushed under her, blobs of cream that had been forced out by the impact lay on the plastic covered floor all around her.
"How does it feel?" asked Daisy.
"Gooey", came the answer from Alice as she shifted her position on the chair to the accompaniment of more squishing sounds.
"Well you can stay there until your next go," said Bess, "I think that's within the spirit of the forfeit."
"Oh goody," came the dry response from Alice.
"Right," said Bess, "that only leaves one person to go in this first round. Fran, you're up."
"Okay," said Fran somewhat eagerly, "if I lose I think I'll pour a carton of custard over my head."
"Excellent choice," replied Bess, "let's see whether you'll have to go through with it." She dealt the cards. Fran was given a nine and a deuce. The next card she received was an eight, taking her score to nineteen, a total that she was evidently satisfied with. Her satisfaction was short lived, however, as when the dealer's hand was exposed it was revealed that it contained a queen and a king. That was the royal marriage that condemned Fran, but she didn't seem unduly concerned, merely rather excited.
She took off her tall witches' had and strode quickly over to the mess table and picked up a litre carton of custard. It didn't seem such a lot while it was still cooped up in its box, but once it was released Fran was sure it would seem like a lot more. She opened the carton and looked inside at the viscous liquid that was soon to be adorning her body. Undaunted she hefted the box above her head. It was at this point that she began to get nervous. She paused for a few seconds, and was on the verge of chickening out, when she looked into the face of the woman in the cop uniform. It seemed to taunt her, the impassive, inscrutable glasses seemed to say; you don't have the bottle, you wont dare. Fran was galvanized, made up her mind and began to pour.
She had intended to remain stoic and silent, but as soon as the stream of custard impacted on her brown hair she gasped and began a high pitched squeal that quickly became punctuated by bursts of laughter. The yellow semi-liquid flowed like lava, oozing over her head, gradually covering her immaculate hair and eventually flowing down her locks and dripping on to the floor. It dripped of her head in huge dollops and splatted on to her black top, staining it. The custard was soft, almost comforting, it felt like her entire head was being encased in liquid silk.
Daisy languidly stretched out a pvc covered arm and dipped a finger into Fran's hair, then brought it to her lips and licked it.
"It tastes rather nice," she said, "but how does it feel?" Fran thought for a minute before answering her.
"This feels awesome!" she yelled joyously, then, "argh! It's running down my back!"
The other four laughed at this, and at Fran's obvious enjoyment of her torment. This was a much needed icebreaker, the contestants and the gamesmistress relaxed a lot more. They went over to the drinks table to recharge their glasses before preceding on to the next round, all except Alice, who was still confined to her chair. Her beverage needs were seen to, however, by an obliging Daisy.
Daisy began the second round of blackjack by saying that she would fill her new leather boots with the blood red gunge contained in one of the bowls on the mess table. Again she was very matter of fact about it, as if there was nothing to the act she was proposing. This strategy of not thinking too hard about the deed was obviously helping her luck, as the cards were in her favour again. Daisy smiled at her second victory in succession and graciously stepped back leaving the way clear for the next player.
"Okay Alice, it's your turn," said Bess, "you can get up from your chair now."
"Actually," said Alice, "I think I might just stay sitting down for now. This seat's rather comfy in fact." The others smiled at this, the tall raven haired beauty was clearly getting in to the spirit of the mess.
"That's fine by me," said the dealer, "but what's your forfeit for this round?"
"Well," replied Alice, "I think while I'm sitting down I'll pour that bowl of porridge over there over my lap." Bess nodded in appreciation of this idea.
"That's an awesome suggestion," interjected Daisy.
"Yeah, I hope you lose," said the custard drenched Fran.
"Thank you very much!" cried Alice indignantly, "I hope that you lose all of your forfeits and have to go in the dunktank!"
"The feeling's mutual, I'm sure," said Fran.
"If I could bring you girls back to the business in hand," interrupted Bess. The two forgot their little feud and watched the cards as they were dealt. Unfortunately for Daisy and Fran the two cards given to Alice were a king and an ace.
"Blackjack!" cried Bess, one girl smiled in satisfaction and two hung their heads in disappointment. It was however noticeable that despite winning, Alice made absolutely no effort to remove her behind from the gooey cake it was still firmly planted in.
Fran made it clear that she desperately wanted to go next, and named her forfeit immediately and without the merest vestige of hesitation.
"If I lose this hand then I'll pour that jug over there full of gravy all over my top," she said determined.
"Are you sure?" asked Bess, "that gravy's very lumpy you know."
"Yes, I know," replied Fran, "and it's all the better for it. I wouldn't want to eat that stuff but it'll be great for a forfeit."
"Go Fran!" yelled Daisy, apropos of nothing.
"Well I can't deny that it'll look good on you," said Bess as the custard covered Fran made comedic pretend preening poses, "so let's play." Clearly the curvy brunette was really getting in to the game in a big way, and Bess and Daisy were extremely happy about that.
The contestant for the hand watched closely as initially two cards were given to the dealer, then her cards came, first a queen, then a three.
"You have a gay waiter!" cried Alice from her creamy throne.
"What?" asked Fran in puzzlement, wondering if this was some obscure rule that had been hitherto unknown to her.
"Sorry," said Alice, "it's just a silly nickname for the hand you have. You see a three is also known as a trey, which means you have a queen with a trey, and a queen with a trey is..."
"A gay waiter!" chorused the entire room with one or two laughs.
"Really Alice," said Laura, remonstrating with her, "that is a very, very bad joke."
"Hey, I didn't make it up!" she protested.
"Excuse me," said Bess, "but we are in the middle of a game here."
"Of course, sorry," said Laura.
"Right," said the dealer with authority, "time to find out if Fran here is going to take any more pun-ishment." The girls collectively groaned, but noone interrupted further. Fran took another card. It was a four. The witch tapped the table to indicate that she wanted a further card. The cop looked over he to of her aviator sunglasses questioningly. The rest of the party was dead silent now, enthralled by the almost suicidal move that Fran was about to make. Almost imperceptibly she nodded her yellow stained head to the dealer. Bess shrugged as if to say, it's your funeral, and dealt out another card to Fran's hand. It was a five, giving her a total of twenty-two. There were loud 'ooos' of disappointment from her companions at this near miss, but she herself didn't seem disappointed at all, quite the opposite in fact.
"Oh dear," cried Fran insincerely, "looks like I'm doing another forfeit!" She bounded over to the mess table with alacrity and seized the huge jug in her hand. The contents of the vessel were truly foul, the gravy was a foetid dark brown, it was thick and disgusting looking and there were quite sizable lumps to be found in it everywhere. She didn't seem to mind this at all, however, and gazed into the gloop with an expression bordering on affection.
Unhurriedly she raised the jug up high, then slowly, ever so slowly started to tip it. A thin but steady stream trickled out and splashed onto her front, glug glug gluging over her chest, washing the few remaining blobs of custard away and dampening the material. She shifted the jug from side to side, making sure her entire front got a good covering. The black top began to glisten with wetness and it began to cling most fantastically to her large breasts, it was staining brown.
"This is so much fun!" she cried as she was still pouring, then shivered as a particularly big lump slipped inside her top. The others stood admiringly at the sight of Fran so willingly participating in the destruction of her outfit. By the time the large jug was finally empty her entire front was soaked through totally with the horrible gravy, and Fran had a great big grin on her face. The others smiled along with her, but didn't say anything for a moment.
"What a turkey!" exclaimed Daisy, breaking the silence. The group dissolved in to laughter.
"Oh no!" cried Laura, "that's the worst joke yet!"
"You're less funny that Ben Elton!" said Alice, whilst Fran flicked blobs of slimy gravy in her direction. Daisy merely grinned and wiped a couple of spots off her shiny pvc catsuit with her hands and licked her finger.
"Bleugh!" she said in disgust and pulled a face, "I like it more when you're pouring custard over yourself."
"Humph!" replied Fran, "I can't wait until it's you doing a forfeit." Daisy merely smiled to herself and did not deign to give a retort.
"Be that as it may," said Bess, "but it's Laura's turn next. What do you want as your forfeit, honey?" The petite brunette looked down at the floor and spoke quietly and a little shyly.
"When I was in primary school," she said softly, "I was involved with a charity event. It was a sponsored walk, we raised a lot of money. The others were listening with great interest to this story, wondering where it was going. "And the reason we raised so much was that it wasn't just a normal walk. We had to wear our wellies, and the wellies were full of jelly." Laura had been growing more confident all the time that she was giving this monologue.
"Yes, I remember that," said Alice, "you were the only one of us that did that."
"Yes I was," continued Laura, "and it was so much fun, everyone really enjoyed it, it was just the sort of thing that kids love. And I was thinking that filling my boots with jelly might be a good forfeit, but the only thing is..."
"Yes?" said Bess.
"The boots are new, and I don't want to spoil them. Would putting jelly in them spoil them?"
"No," said both Daisy and Bess in unison. The two looked at each other sheepishly.
"Jinx!" cried Daisy. Bess ignored this and addressed Laura.
"No, the boots will clean up just fine," she said, "and that will do just fine as a forfeit." Laura beamed with relief, looking down at her boot sand imagining what it would feel like with them full of slime.
"Right, are we ready to play?" asked Bess. The cowgirl nodded. The cards were dealt. Laura was given eighteen and for a moment she considered asking for a further card in the same way that Fran had, but in the end decided to stick with what she had. It did her no good though, as the dealers' hand was soon uncovered and it bested hers by one.
"Yay!" she cried as her loss was revealed and did a little jump for joy. Then suddenly she looked around at the rest of the girls and felt embarrassed and covered her mouth with her had and gave a little giggle.
"Looks like you'll be reliving some childhood memories then,"said Bess, "you can get the jelly over there." She indicated a yellow bucket full of red, sloppy slime.
Laura walked over to the mess table, slipped off her boots and stood in her bare feet on the plastic covered floor. She picked up the bucket, looked at its contents, then transferred her gaze to the boots. They sat there, all nice and pink and clean, new and cute as a button. But not for much longer. She began to pour, the jelly slopping out of the bucket and in to the right boot with a horribly deliciously gluggling sound. There wasn't a great deal of room in there, so it was only a few seconds until she transferred to pouring into the left boot. Soon enough the cowgirl boots were full to the brim, a single globule of jelly sliding down the outside of one of the shafts. Laura eyed them nervously.
"Well, here goes," she said, and held her breath. She angled her left foot, pointed a red painted toenail and dipped it slowly into the jelly filled boot, a very wet squelching sound accompanying the action. Her face was a picture as she plunged her other foot into its boot as well. The pink outsides of the boots were being stained red by the torrents of overflowing jelly running down them. At last she was finished, she was standing there with a huge smile on her face, her brand new cowgirl boots full of gunge.
"How does it feel?" asked Daisy. Laura didn't answer straight away, but instead went on a little walk, all the way across the huge basement room, a regular slurp, slurp, squelch, squelch sounding with every footfall. Eventually she returned to the rest of the girls, having left a trail of red blobs in her wake.
"This is sooooo cool!" she said, "it's just how I remember it."
"I'm glad you all seem to be having fun," said Bess. The girls responded with various expressions of agreement.
"I hope all my forfeits are like this," said Laura, "I might even just walk around with jelly in my boots every day."
"Oh really?" enquired Daisy with much interest. Laura laughed.
"Maybe," she said.
"Might I suggest," said Bess, "that as we're at the end of the second round that we take the opportunity to have another drinks break?" This idea was readily assented to and the party retired to recharge their glasses, Alice's once more being taken care of by Daisy as she still insisted in remaining sitting in the remains of the cake.
Another round of drinking inevitably gave way to another round of forfeits, Daisy again being first up.
"If I lose this round," she said unconcernedly, "I'll fill my catsuit with custard."
"Eww, that's a bit extreme Daiz," said Alice, but she merely shrugged her shoulders and indicated to Bess to go ahead and deal out the cards. She did so with her customary professionalism. Daisy's cool demeanour was justified, as the cards were once again in her favour, her hand of twenty easily beating the dealer's hand of seventeen. This continued success raised some suspicions in the others.
"Hey Daisy," said Fran, "you're being awfully lucky tonight."
"Yeah," agreed Alice, "that's the third hand in a row you've somehow managed to win, are you cardcounting or something?" The pvc catsuited girl tried to laugh this off.
"I wouldn't know how," she said, "I guess I've just got the magic touch."
"She definitely isn't counting cards," said Laura the mathematician, "you have to observe a lot more hands before it starts working in your favour. And it's not a fullproof method anyway."
"I told you," said Daisy, "it's just that Lady Luck happens to be smiling upon me tonight."
"Whatever," said Alice, I'm sure you'll get what's coming to you soon enough. It's my go now anyway. If I lose this I think I'll..." The sedentary girl pondered for a minute, then an idea hit her. "I know, if I lose this I'll pour that jug of cream down my cleavage." She sat back in her chair, well satisfied.
"Copycat!" said Fran, in an accusatory tone, "that's just the same as my last forfeit."
""Well...maybe," conceded Alice, "but the difference is that I've chosen to use that nice cream, rather that that horrible stinky old gravy."
"Humph!" said Fran in a huff, "there was nothing wrong with that gravy. Well not as something for a forfeit anyway, I think Daisy quite adequately showed up its deficiencies as a foodstuff. Anyway, I hope you lose."
Fran got her wish. Although Alice improved her initially low hand and got it up to twenty, the dealer had been dealt blackjack.
"Hah!" said her victorious enemy, "who's laughing now?" The tall girl didn't bother to make a reply, instead getting up out of her chair for the first time in a long while. At last the extent of the devastation of her behind could be seen, there was masses of mess plastered to it and bits of sponge flaking off it.
"Look at your arse!" laughed Daisy, "it's a complete mess!"
"Oh really?" said Alice in a very sarcastic voice, "perhaps that might just be related to the fact that I've been sitting on a huge gooey cake for the past half hour!"
"Point taken," said Daisy, and let her get on with performing her latest forfeit.
Alice picked up the jug lifted it high and began to pour, her actions being performed without delay and with supreme confidence. It was a different story, however soon as the white cream impacted on her breasts. She cried out in shock.
"Argh!" she yelled, "This. Is. So. Coooooold!" Despite her protestations she kept on pouring, the steady stream of cream flowing over her impressive cleavage where it matched the ivory whiteness of her beautiful skin and staining her previously night-black dress to match. The others could observe the gradual but inevitable progress of the cream as it oozed down her front under her vampy dress, more and more of Alice's body coming into contact with the icy substance. The jug was empty by now, but the waves of mess continued to flow downwards. She screamed earpiercingly as it started to touch her more intimate places, she flapped her hands and bounced up and down .Eventually she plunged herself back down into the messy seat just to stop the downward movement of the cream.
"Eeek!" she cried, "you were right Fran. Gravy is much better than cream for pouring down your top. At least gravy's warm." The others laughed somewhat sympathetically at her predicament, and eventually the cream trapped next to her body began to warm up a little, leaving Alice a lot more comfortable.
In the meantime it was Fran who was next in line to play, and she named her next forfeit without hesitation.
"Seen as some of us," she said with a sly glance at Alice, "have started copying, I think that should I happen to lose this hand I shall sit down in a cake. Seen as it seems to be so comfy."
"It is indeed," said Alice with a grin.
"That's fine by me," said tech cop costumed mistress of ceremonies.
"Good," said Fran, "now let's see some cards." She got her wish, seeing two cards with the total value of twelve. She was in a bit of a quandary now. She was quite looking forward to performing the forfeit, and indeed all the other forfeits, but she was not at all looking forward to what consistently losing would bring. She stole a glance at the dunktank, sitting in the middle of the room, its brooding presence overseeing all the games and all the little forfeit. No, she didn't really want to go in there. So what was she to do? She could try to deliberately lose the hand like she had done before, but that would not be advisable in the long term. So she decided to play it straight and called for one more card. It came down as a nine, bringing her total to an unassailable twenty-one.
"You win!" said Bess.
"Well good for me," said Fran unenthusiastically, and looked ambivalently at the cake which she would no longer be forced to sit in.
"My turn now," said the jelly-booted cowgirl.
"okay, so what's your forfeit going to be?" asked Bess.
"Hmm...," said Laura as she bit her lip and furrowed her brow. She thought deeply for a while, then slowly raised her eyes upwards as a smile spread across her face.
"I know!" she exclaimed," if I lose this hand I'll fill my hat with gunge and put it on." She beamed at the rest of the girls, pleased as Punch, if not at the prospect of performing the task then at her ingenuity at thinking it up.
"That's a nice idea," said Bess, "well thought up. But let's see if you'll have to go through with it." Laura's cards came down totaling nineteen. This put her in a quandary, just like Fran previously. Should she commit suicide by taking another card? Did she really want to have to perform the forfeit? It was a nice idea, sure, but it might not be so nice to actually do. Eventually she decided to stick with what she had and let events take their natural course.
Bess turned over her two cards. A jack. A king. Twenty. Laura was not as shocked as she would have been at the start of the game, in fact she found that she was curious more than anything else, curious as to what this new experience would feel like. She took her hat of as if in a trance and filled it dispassionately with the slime. The gunge was bright green, almost luminous and it was thick and gooey, the hat held a lot.
She held the pink hat out in front of her, balancing it in her hand for a moment. Then in one quick, sharp movement she flung her arm up and rammed the hat right down on top of her pretty little head. No effects were seen for an instant, then all of a sudden bright green streams of slime rushed over her brown hair, soaking in to it, running down her cute pigtails and down her back inside her shirt. It ran down her front as well, the gunge giving a shimmering green veneer to the red check. The gunge wasn't nearly as cold as the cream that Alice had used, in fact it was quite warm and soothing really. Nevertheless, as it oozed round her, underneath her clothing and against her bare skin, there was something about the viscous quality of it that made a shiver run all the way up and down her spine.
Laura reached up to her head again and pulled off the hat, releasing a further reservoir of gunge to tumble over her head. It glooped all over her, soaking all the way through her shirt, seeping into her bra and running don over her flat, exposed tummy, turning the golden brown of her tan green. She had been well and truly slimed. She plonked the hat back one more, put her slightly slimy hands on her hips and stood there looking at the others with an idiot grin on her mess covered face. The girls laughed.
"Classic comedy!" said Fran, "that was awesome."
"Yes, it was," agreed Laura, "and it felt cool too."
"That was probably the best forfeit yet," chipped in Alice.
Laura felt proud of herself, she was glad that she had lost now, she was really getting into the swing of the game, with her slapstick sliming having thusly brought its third round to a close.
There was a general feeling that they should move the game on a bit, so there was no stop for drinks at this point and instead everyone moved straight on to the fourth round. Daisy, still completely spotless in her shiny pvc catsuit was as always the first one to play, and as always she named her forfeit in a clear and concise manner and with no hint of fear or nervousness. She had won so far and she didn't see any reason why her streak should end now.
"If I lose this," she said, placing a big emphasis on the if, "I will pour a bowl of golden syrup over my head." Bess deemed this to be an acceptable enough forfeit, and began to deal down the cards. The others watched closely, eager to see a victory for the house this time. Daisy was given a five and a ten, a total of fifteen. Impassively she made a request for another card. It came. She stared at it in horror, her mouth agape. She was in shock, this couldn't be. The card was a ten, she was bust.
"Yesss!" shouted Fran and punched the air.
"At last!" crowed Alice, "the clean one is going to get messy."
"Looks like kitty is about to get a little sweeter," added Laura dryly, "way to make that pvc catsuit even shinier Daiz."
"Wait!" interrupted Bess, who had been as shocked as the contestant when the card that had sealed her fate had been revealed. She moved the ten aside to uncover a four lying beneath it.
"Huh?" enquired Fran.
"Looks like I dealt two cards by mistake," she said.
"So what does that mean?" asked Laura.
"The rules are that if the dealer makes a mistake the house automatically loses," replied Bess, "so I'm afraid that Daisy has won again." The huge relief was plainly visible on the face of the catsuited girl, and oddly enough on the cop's face as well, though she had no apparent vested interest in Daisy winning or losing.
"Are you sure?" said Alice suspiciously.
"Yeah, can't we just have the hand again?" said Laura.
"No, no can do," said Bess hastily and with a good deal of bluster, "rules are rules after all. Right, on to the next player, Alice what are you going to have as your next forfeit?" The others remained highly suspicious of these goings on, but accepted that after all Daisy was going to be staying unscathed this round. Alice spoke up with her new idea:
"If I lose this hand," she said, "then I will place my feet," she waggled her feet, clad in her towering patent leather shoes, "into a bowl of chocolate sauce."
"For how long?" asked Laura, "we need to know how long you'll keep them in there for seen as we're being strict on the rules lately." Her voice lowered and she spoke more darkly as the sentence came to an end."
"Pft, I don't know," said Alice, refusing to join in the malice, "until the end of the round, until the end of the game, I don't mind, it's all the same to me."
"Yes, well," broke in Bess somewhat quickly and in an embarrassed tone, "I think until the end of the round should be quite sufficient. Let's play." She dealt down the cards with great care, eager to bring a line under the whole misdealing incident. The fates were obviously smiling on Alice at that moment.
"Blackjack!" cried Bess, "well done Alice, looks like you're off the hook for now." The raven haired one accepted the news without emotion, seemingly to be indifferent to whether she won or lost by this stage.
"Yay, whatever," she said languidly, "what have you got planned, Fran?" Fran had a great deal planned, as she had been scheming and plotting ever since she had seen Daisy be let off on a technicality. She laid her design out before the others.
"I have an idea for a small side wager," she said carefully and deliberately.
"Oh really?" said Bess cautiously, "what have you got in mind?"
"Well," continued Fran, "seeing as Daisy is still so squeaky clean,"
"With the emphasis on the squeaky," broke in Alice, a reference to her pvc clothing.
"Yes, indeed," continued Fran, "so seeing as she's still clean and this is the fourth round, I thought that it might be nice to have a little bet with her."
"Go on," said Daisy, sounding extremely dubious.
"I reckon that if I win this hand then you have to do your syrup forfeit."
"Okay," said Daisy, distinctly unimpressed up to this point, "and what happens if you lose?"
"If I lose," said Fran, "I will perform not just one, but two forfeits. So how about it Daiz, are you up for it?" The blonde looked extremely uncertain for a while, then looked as if for guidance to Bess. She nodded almost imperceptibly. This seemed to fill Daisy with new found confidence.
"Sure," she said, "bring it on. You are so going down."
"Oh yeah?" said Fran.
"Yeah," said Daisy, talking tough.
"If you're both satisfied with this I so no reason not to let you go ahead with it," said Bess, "although it wont count towards your final scores of course. So the only thing that remains is for Fran to declare what her double forfeit will be."
"I've already thought of that," said Fran looking smug, "firstly I will fill my short with porridge, and secondly I will fill my boots with that thick brown mud over there. You see, I'm choosing extra nasty forfeits because I'm so sure that I'm going to win and you're going to lose!" All the others 'ooed' at this fighting talk and watched avidly to see which one of the two was going to come off worse.
The cards were dealt down, two cads to Bess first, then two to Fran. There was no doubt that she was playing this hand to win, there was no deliberate going bust here, she desperately wanted to see the so far immaculate pvc clad Daisy get messy. She called for another card, her total improved to eighteen.
"Mmmm," she said critically, "that's as good as I'm going to get I suppose. I'll stick with this, what have you got?" Bess showed her what she had, it was a pair of fives. She took another card, it was a deuce. She took another card.
"Oh dear Fran," she said, "I've got a six, that spells curtains for you!"
Fran hung her head. She couldn't believe it. The prospect of performing her 'nasty' forfeits didn't bother her at all, but she was so disappointed that her adversary Daisy was being let off once again.
"Ha ha!" crowed the blonde, "I am victorious once more! I hope you like your oats!" Fran could see the funny side now.
"Curses!" she cried and twiddled an imaginary moustache in the manner of dastardly screen villains of old, "you win again, catwoman!" The girls laughed at this and looked forward to seeing Fran get her comeuppance.
She decided to do the second forfeit first and unzipped her boots. She unceremoniously dumped them into the large bucket of mud and rinsed them thoroughly.
"Mmmm, lovely!" she said as she squished the muck between her fingers. She pulled the boots out and they were almost unrecognisable. There wasn't a hint of the black leather visible, they were twin lumps of brown ooze, huge clods clinging to them.
"Whoopee, I'm going to enjoy this I can tell," she said sarcastically. She placed her left foot into the boot, a sharp intake of breath accompanying the action as the mug was rather cold. She gave a small yelp as her left foot also descended into its mucky home. Ever so slowly she took hold of the left shaft and began to zip it up, grimacing as the soaked leather was pressed against the skin of her calves. At last she was done, the cold mud squeezed up against her body, but the second boot was still left to do. Sighing she zipped up the right boot, shivering at the damp wetness now encasing both of her legs.
"Brr, it's a bit cold," Fran said.
