Her type. Girls like Ashley…
Neil removed the last screw and handed it to Gary who carefully put it in his pocket. The final shelf slid out neatly, leaving the bottom half of the closet completely open. (The shelves on the top half were more permanently affixed.) There was just enough space for one person if they sat down with their legs curled up. That was going to be Sharon’s post. Neil was thankful about that. There was no way he was going to spend several hours in that cramped space. He was going to be in the bigger closet with Gary and Karen. There was really no need for him to be there, as Gary had pointed out, but he wanted to be part of things again.
He wanted to see Stacy in action…
Sharon looked critically through the camera’s viewfinder. The angle wasn’t the best in the world - it wasn’t even as good as it had been in Neil’s bedroom - but it would have to do. As long as the light was OK, the pictures should turn out alright. >From where she would be sitting in the small closet, she could get pictures of the bed and most of the bedroom, but she was a little low to get the best angle for any action on the bed. And the action on the bed, of course, was the whole point of these arrangements. As well, she was forced to take the pictures through the slats in the closet door. It worked fairly well as long as she kept the camera flush against the door, but it limited her options. It would also force her to lean forward uncomfortably when taking pictures.
It was, however, the best they could do, and there was still the video camera in the walk-in closet. Perhaps if Stacy’s parents had left the night before as planned they would have had time to make further modifications to Stacy’s bedroom, but the parents had delayed their departure until mid-morning on Saturday. Hence, The three friends had only had a couple of hours Saturday morning until Ashley was to arrive. Not the best of circumstances in which to accomplish so tricky an objective, but things weren’t going too badly.
Now, as long as nothing else went wrong…
Gary finished giving his final instructions to Stacy and gave her one final look. She appeared quite stunning in her short skirt and pink blouse, her blonde hair combed in waves over one shoulder. Sharon had both chosen the outfit and done up the hair, treating Stacy like some big barbie doll to be dressed and groomed at will. Stacy looked great and Gary approved; if that didn’t work, nothing would. A quick glance around the bedroom revealed nothing out of place. Sharon was safely out of sight in the small closet, and Neil and Karen were sitting side by side in the back of the walk-in. A quick check in the upstairs bathroom reveal that Karen’s "props" were in place.
Everything was ready.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang downstairs. Gary looked Stacy in the eye.
"Showtime," he told her, smiling at the hint of panic in her eyes. "You know what to do."
Stacy swallowed nervously, but nodded her agreement. She knew what to do; it had been made very clear to her. Gary gestured for her to answer the door. When she left the bedroom, he turned and squeezed past the video camera and into the closet, pulling the door shut behind him…
Stacy stopped momentarily on her way down the stairs to answer the doorbell and took a deep breath; she needed to steady her nerves. Of all the things they had forced her to do in the last couple of months, this was quite possibly the most difficult. As first, she had absolutely refused. Even when Sharon had made all the usual threats, Stacy would not go through with it. She had to draw the line somewhere. But when Gary had offered her ten credits - ten less guys to fuck - she had wavered and finally given in. She would do what they wanted. Ten less guys to fuck! That would be worth it. That would be worth almost anything.
And besides, what did she owe Ashley anyway?
Stacy was jarred from her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell being rung a second and then a third time in quick succession.
"Coming," she cried, annoyed, as she quickly jumped down the remaining stairs. Despite her irritation and nervousness, she forced a welcoming smile onto her face as she pull open the door.
"Ashley," she greeted her friend from school. "Come in."
Ashley accepted the invitation, walking in through the doorway. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a pink sweater under an expensive leather jacket. (Her parents were rich, and she always had the best clothes.) Her long, dark hair was done up into a large bun on the back of her head. A large leather purse was slung over her shoulder. The two girls exchanged greetings as they walked upstairs to Stacy’s room. Their meeting was ostensibly to put together some arrangements for a class project in the spring term, but neither expected much work to be done. Particularly since Stacy’s parents were out of town for the weekend and Ashley was staying the night.
Stacy led her friend into her bedroom, and the two girls flopped down into comfortable positions - Stacy on the bed and Ashley onto a large floor cushion - and began to talk. The discussion at first centred around the recent holidays, and Ashley told several funny stories about some visiting relatives from back east. As usual, her stories were humorous at someone else’s expense, and she soon moved onto various people they both knew at school. Soon, as usually happened, the talk zeroed in on Ashley’s unfavourable views on several of those people. Stacy let Ashley carry the conversation, but talked just enough so that her friend would not suspect that something was wrong. Just as Gary had promised her a significant reward for success, he had likewise made dire warnings regarding the consequences of failure. Stacy was desperate to succeed.
After about an hour, Stacy decided that the time had come to set things in motion.
"Want something to drink?" she asked, knowing the answer. Ashley was staying the night; that would almost certainly mean that the girls would get drunk on the contents of Stacy’s father’s liquor cabinet. Ashley, in particular, enjoyed the expensive brand of scotch whisky Stacy’s father favoured. As expected, Ashley answered in the affirmative, and Stacy left the room to get the alcohol.
Sharon sat up as best she could in the cramped confines of the closet when she heard Stacy offer Ashley a drink. This was what they had been waiting for. Gary had liberally laced Stacy’s father’s scotch with his now usual mixture of drugs. With any luck, things should be underway before long. And not a moment too soon; Sharon’s legs were beginning to cramp under her.
She checked the settings on her camera…
Stacy bit her lip with apprehension as Ashley took a sip from the tumbler. Would she notice anything different about the taste? The moment passed without incident, and Stacy sighed with relief, taking a sip of her own drink. Of course, why would Ashley notice anything? Stacy herself had twice been drugged in this manner - she now realized - and she had never noticed a thing. The alcohol effectively masked the taste of the drugs. Stacy took another sip of her drink, willingly subjecting herself to the effects of Gary’s drugs - she would need all the help she could get - and the two girls continued their conversation.
By the end of the next hour, both girls were feeling the combined affects of the alcohol and the mixture of drugs dissolved within the alcohol. For Stacy, it was now almost a familiar experience; the slight drowsiness, the sense of dislocation and the increased sensitivity - she had felt it all before. Ashley, on the other hand, had never previously experienced the effects of these particular drugs. Hence, she put the strange feelings down to the effect of alcohol on an empty stomach (she hadn’t eaten lunch). In a way, it felt kind of pleasant, kind of like drifting, but with a sensual warmth down deep in her stomach.
"Another drink?" Stacy got up and took Ashley’s now empty glass. Ashley started to answer (in the affirmative), but before she could say anything, Stacy had hurried out of the room, not even waiting for an answer. Normally, Ashley might have found this behaviour extremely puzzling - it was usually Ashley who instigated and encouraged the drinking - but her powers of perception were somewhat blurred. She got up to stretch her legs and walked over to the window. It was getting quite hot in the bedroom, she noticed, perhaps she should open a window. She reached up and…