SS Undercover Ch 8

“I got it,” Cassie says, stepping forward. “Relax, Apple. Breathe. If anyone’s pissing off your psycho prez, it should be me because I don’t live here.”

“Showoff,” Elsa says, visibly ruffled.

“Our knight in shining armor,” Kylie giggles.

“Burglary shit. Hell yeah,” Cassie mutters tiredly, following Kylie toward her door.

“Wait. Hey. Let me talk to you,” Kayla says.

Cassie looks back. “Me?”

“Yes. Let go. It’s not like I’m gonna run or something,” Kayla tells Ying.

Ying looks skeptical, but she lets go.

Kayla bolts. Elsa’s the closest, but she hesitates.

“Banzai!” Kylie’s tackle misses because she has all the coordination of a collapsing building, but she still grabs Kayla’s ankle. Kayla squawks and crashes to the floor. Ying pounces on her again, rougher this time.

“Ah! Fuck me! Police brutality!” Kayla yells, red-faced. “I wasn’t running! I was just getting my steps in!”

“OK. Can I just do the thing?” Cassie asks helplessly.

Kylie picks herself up, blowing stray hairs out of her face and brushing herself off. “Good work, everyone. Just like we practiced. Like a well-oiled machine.”

“Hey!” Kayla is still trying to catch Cassie’s eye. “For real! Come here!”

“Oh my god.” Cassie stomps over and kneels. “What?”

“Closer. Don’t listen. This is attorney and client shit,” Kayla snaps at Ying, who has her arm twisted behind her back. Ying’s smile looks ****.

Baffled, Cassie gets down low.

“You’re going in the prez’s room?” Kayla whispers. “Leni, right?”

“I dunno. I guess.”

“Wherever she’s from. Whatever. Get me her panties. They’re worth a hundred bucks. I’ll split it with you.”

Cassie waits. Seconds go by. “That’s it?”

“Is that not enough? For one fucking thong or something? It’s fifty bucks, sis. Do the fucking thing.”

“OK. I’ll, uh, think about it,” Cassie replies quietly. She gets to her feet, deeply confused.

“What’d she say?” Colby asks. She’s holding Apple, who looks shaken by the excitement.

A loud whoop from a nearby room stops Cassie from answering.

Elsa clenches her fist. “Oh my god! Shut the fuck up, Donut!” She steps over and bangs on the door like a cop.

Muffled cackling is the reply. “Let’s fucking gooo!”

“Kylie, can we go please?” Cassie asks, grabbing Kylie’s hand. “Where am I going? What am I doing?”

Kylie takes Cassie into her bedroom, which is disappointingly ordinary. Kylie is unusually beautiful, but she is otherwise perfectly normal. Her stuff looks the same as anyone else’s. All the same, Cassie’s life hasn’t exactly been nonstop romance since arriving in Gurlberg. Her eyes flick to Kylie’s rumpled single bed, but she doesn’t let her imagination go anywhere with it. This isn’t the time.

Kylie opens the window and leans out. “That’s Leni’s window, right there. I can open it from here if you hold me.” Such unremarkable words sound so cool and exotic with her accent.

“And, um, just to be super careful so we don’t die, how exactly are you wanting me to hold you?”

Kylie thinks for a moment, and it’s a long, glazed moment. She’s had a lot of drinks and, unless Cassie is mistaken, an edible. But she also has a full stomach and some tolerance. Cassie estimates that Kylie’s processing speed is about one-third of what it would be normally.

“No worries. I go backwards.” She leans back. “You hold my hand.” She waves her left hand. “And I’ll go over here like this.” She waves her right.

“Like one of those wavy blow-up things at car dealerships. This is an amazing plan.”

“She’ll be right.”

“You aren’t worried about leaving them unsupervised?”

“What could go wrong?”

“Do you want to put a shirt on?”

“No, I want to take this off.” Before Cassie can comment, Kylie yanks off her bra and throws it away viciously, rubbing her flank as she goes to the window. Cassie is top-heavy for a runner, so she understands, but the sudden nipples startle her. Maybe they shouldn’t at this point in the evening. She joins Kylie and her tan lines and boobs at the window and takes her hand. With a look of steely concentration, Kylie leans out. She wobbles, and Cassie holds on tight.

“Got it,” Kylie reports, and Cassie pulls her back in. She’s pretty sure that she didn’t pull too hard, but Kylie trips anyway. Cassie catches her easily.

It happens suddenly. One moment, Cassie is simply having a good time. But with Kylie in her arms and her face so close, there’s a sudden gear shift. Cassie’s thoughts no longer matters. The look on Kylie’s face is complex: a little of that substance-related euphoria, a little amusement that comes with being a relatively confident person, and a little naked attraction. It’s nice to be desired, and that’s like someone slamming a fist on all the pleasure buttons in Cassie’s brain.

She is not a blushing virgin, but neither has her life looked like a steamy HBO series. She’s never had a moment quite like this on a muggy night in Florida. Things happen in her body that are completely new, and the need to kiss Kylie is physically painful. It comes out of nowhere. She hardly knows this wildly irresponsible blonde.

Kylie still has crumbs on her face and smells like coffee and booze. Cassie has read her share of smut, but she’s never physically experienced her body aching with desire this way before. Her head is still spinning from how suddenly it happened.

She lets go and swallows, assuming that her face is the color of a fire engine. Kylie has some color too, and her cute little nipples are up at attention. “I guess now you hold me,” Cassie says, heart racing.

“My pleasure,” Kylie replies. She seems a little less drunk, all of a sudden. Cassie’s about to ask if Kylie’s comfortable flashing her boobs out the window, but it’s a silly question. Kylie doesn’t care; there’s nobody out there. It’s dark anyway.

She leans out the window to see what she’s up against, and it looks doable. The window is open. She’ll need to step from Kylie’s sill to Leni’s, open it the rest of the way, and climb through. These old-fashioned windows have details and stick out a bit, so there’s stuff that she can hold. This is not suicide. Cassie is an athlete; she is limber and coordinated.

“Just stay here. I don’t want you to fall,” she tells Kylie.

“Yes, ma’am,” the blonde replies.

Cassie climbs over and slips through the window into a dark room. She turns on her phone light and finds the light switch.

She expected something a little nicer. Meri’s room at CGH House is what was once the master bedroom, with its own bath. It’s nothing compared to what CCL House probably offers as a proper old mansion instead of a shitty McMansion that’s been added onto—but this Leni occupies a room no larger than Kylie’s, and it has no bathroom.

It’s still very different from Kylie’s. It’s lived-in, not sterile, but it’s tidy in a way that betrays the fastidious nature of the occupant. It’s devoid of color except for the quilt on the bed, which has colored squares. Everything else is gray or white or black.

This girl has nice devices: an iPad, a Macbook, and a camera sit on the desk by a sophisticated bag containing several lenses. The way that the chargers and cords are arranged is particularly impressive. This chick is organized.

Cassie puts her hands on her hips and thinks. She has to find the key to the dungeon. It’s like they’re still playing that nerdy game. She chews her lip and sweeps the room with her gaze, then kneels to check under the bed. The desk has no drawers, just a few canvas cubes to store sensible things. She opens the closet. This girl is a little smaller than Cassie, about Apple’s size.

Cassie doesn’t like the idea of invading someone’s personal stuff, but she has ****: the key will be kept with jewelry or other small items. It will be in a box of some kind. This girl is not flashy, and she has very little nonessential stuff. The closet is just clothes and shoes. Her makeup must be in a bathroom somewhere.

The key is in a box in the top drawer of the dresser, along with a few pairs of dignified earrings, what Cassie assumes is a spare pair of glasses, and some expensive Italian perfume.

Leni’s socks and underwear are just to the left. The panties are just black and white briefs. The black ones are clearly for working out, and the white ones are almost conspicuously boring, although they have tiny lace trim on the top that’s kind of cute. They’re nice, but not fancy or over-the-top expensive. There’s a lot of dignity in this room.

Cassie slips the key into her pocket and regards the underwear.

Kayla wants them. Maybe she needs the money. Cassie doesn’t know.

Should she take the underwear? Yes or no?