Chapter 126 - 126: Desire

By the time Avery pulls herself from the hole, the street lights are illuminating the road outside the Peters' villa. She casually flags a taxi and tells the driver where she wants to go. The driver pauses and gives her a skeptical look.

"Lady, do you want to go there?" he asks, "It's far and there is not much there besides trees and snakes."

Avery purses her lips together with rage. She knows that Gabrielle os terrified of snakes, and she can't believe that Andrew would take her sister to such a place. The casual cruelty of it seems shocking. She takes a deep breath to calm herself and levels a serious gaze at the driver.

"I'll give you three times the normal fare," she says.

The driver says nothing, but he unlocks the doors and Avery gets in.

At the tropical rainforest villa, Gabrielle stepped out of the shower to find that there is a nurse costume waiting for her on the bed. The outfit is different from what she's used to wearing at the hospital. It features a short, tight thigh-baring skirt and a shirt with a dangerously low neckline and pink buttons. It looks like something someone might wear as a s.e.xy costume—not a real nurse's outfit. Gabrielle blushes, but a quick inspection of the room reveals that this is the only clothing. Her old dress has been removed and there's nothing in the room beside the nurse outfit and some bath towels. Fortunately, she is small and thin, so the costume isn't too revealing. On the contrary, it makes her look even younger and more innocent than she is.

Gabrielle tries to slide her feet into the towering white heels, but she's not used to wearing such shoes. She totters dangerously and sprains her ankle, forcing her to walk even more abnormally. She goes downstairs and sees that several girls wearing bikinis are lying coiled around Andrew as if they're snakes.

"Mr. Clifford, when can you play games with us?" one of them asked, "We haven't played for many days, I miss it."

Naïve and innocent, Gabrielle doesn't realize that the games are s.e.x.u.a.l. Seeing the women with Andrew makes her nervous and she tugs at her skirt, but there's not enough fabric to cover the pale skin of her thighs.

"Hey, if you pull that down any lower, you might as well just take it off," one of the women jokes disdainfully.

"It's not my fault," Gabrielle answers, "I'm too slender and this outfit doesn't fit me right."

"Leave me alone," Andrew says, pushing women away from him before turning to gaze at Gabrielle, "Come here and measure my blood pressure."

Gabrielle is so embarrassed that she can't meet his gaze. She carefully holds the skirt to keep it from sliding up her thighs and presses her chin into her chest. Though she looked at her feet as she walks, she rolled her ankle and stumbles forward. She shouts and fumbles, putting her hands out to help break her fall. She screams again when she realizes her palm is pressing into something bulging.

She looks up and sees Andrew staring at her hands. She realizes she has fallen across his legs and her palm is on his p.e.n.i.s. The women begin to protest, and they quickly pull Gabrielle off of Andrew and push her away from him. Weak and unsteady in the heels, Gabrielle stumbles again and falls to the floor.

"Mr. Clifford, I swear I didn't mean to do," Gabrielle says, her face flushed crimson red, "It's just that I've never worn heels this high before, and I have some trouble walking in them."

"She is so sketchy," one of the women stages whispers, "She deliberately fell so that she could touch Mr. Clifford, and now she's playing innocent."

"I didn't mean to do it," Gabrielle repeats, "The heels are too high."

Andrew Clifford raises his eyebrows, and his expression becomes quite s.e.x.u.a.l.

"Don't be afraid," he says flirtatiously, "I'm not hard…yet."

"Mr. Clifford, you're so naughty," the women giggle, "But what's wrong? Can't you get hard after the operation?"

"Let's find out if I can," Andrew Clifford says with a smile.

"You're so naughty," the women repeat.

"Come here," Andrew commands.

Gabrielle stood up carefully and walks toward him. Andrew maintains his relaxed position, forcing Gabrielle to kneel in front of him to measure his blood pressure. She rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing his honey-colored skin and strong arm muscles. Gabrielle places the cuff around his arm and checks the results.

"Your blood pressure is ok," she tells him.

She packs the instrument away and glances at a canned beer on the coffee table.

"Mr. Clifford, beer is not good for your health," she whispers, "Can I make you a cup of juice instead?"

Andrew picks up the beer and holds it in his hand, then he puts it back down without taking a sip. He gives her a serious, thoughtful look. She has always tried to persuade him to give up drinking and smoking, but he never paid her any attention. He doesn't know why he's suddenly respecting her wishes.

"Perhaps, I just want to make it easier to take advantage of her," he thinks, "Or am I just treating her better out of guilt—to try to remedy what I'm about to do?"

"Go then," he says aloud.

Gabrielle rushes hurriedly and unsteadily to the kitchen.

"Mr. Clifford, the little girl seems to care about you," one of the women says teasingly.

"Of course she cares," snaps another woman jealousy, "She's his special nurse."

"I've heard that Gabrielle will lose her v.i.r.g.i.nity tonight," says another woman, "But Mr. Clifford, you don't need to f.u.c.k her with your p.e.n.i.s to achieve the desired goal—you can also use your finger to f.u.c.k her."

Gabrielle can hear them from the kitchen, and she freezes with shock. Then she calmly pulls watermelon, bananas, and taro from the refrigerator. She remembers reading that a mixture of bananas and taro can cause violent diarrhea. She makes a large cup of juice with the fruit.

She places the juice on a tray and prepared to leave the kitchen. Just as she's about to go out the door, she spots ahead of garlic sitting on the counter and pops an entire clove into her mouth.

"Mr. Clifford, I made you a watermelon banana juice to help improve your circulatory health. Please try it," Gabrielle says.

She bends down, inadvertently allowing him to see straight down her shirt. When she looks up she finds that Andrew is staring at her. Her face turned red and she puts the juice on the coffee table before walking away and adjusting the shirt's neckline.

"The juice keeps you healthy?" one of the women says, "I like watermelon banana juice the most. Mr. Clifford, I want to try."

Before the woman can grab the juice, Gabrielle stops her. The woman is shocked.

"It's for Mr. Clifford," Gabrielle says with awkward embarrassment, "If you want to drink some, I'll make you another cup of juice."

"Do you think I'll like it?" Andrew asks.

He looked happily at Gabrielle, pleased to see how protective she's being of him. Gabrielle tries to hide her nervousness. She's not sure if he'll drink the juice or not, but she hopes he drinks all of it. She wants him to get such bad diarrhea that he won't be able to f.u.c.k her. She knows that no one will suspect her of anything—they all think she's meek as a lamb.

"You need to drink it for tonight," she says.

"For tonight?" he asks.

"Beer and wine are bad for making love," she explains, "Juice can umm increase your stamina."

"Is there a juice that can make people excited?" Andrew asks with a smile, "I'd love something to help trigger my s.e.x.u.a.l desire."

Gabrielle swallows and nods, "Sure, this juice can do that too."

"As long as Andrew drinks it, everything will be ok," Gabrielle thinks, "I don't have to worry about arousing his desire if he just finishes this juice."

"I've never heard that watermelon juice can make people excited," Andrew says, "Is it true?"

Andrew is confused—normally Gabrielle is so shy, but now she's making him stimulating juice and acting eager that he drinks it.

"Umm…there is a sort of catalyst in the watermelon," Gabrielle bluffs, "It contains a hormone which can be harmful, but indeed makes people excited when they drink a lot."

Gabrielle emphasizes the words "a lot." Andrew doesn't know that she's lying through her teeth. He smirks.

"Can you help me drink it?" he asks.

"Me?" Gabrielle asked confusedly.

He nods at the cup, and she understands his meaning. She picks it up and holds it to his lips. It's not easy to help him drink. She needs to lift the cup higher and higher as he drinks, and the motion makes the skirt ride up her thighs. The women in the room laugh.

"Mr. Clifford, why do you bully the child?" one of the women asks.

"Gabrielle, I think Mr. Clifford would prefer for you to help him with your mouth," says another.

Gabrielle is so shocked she almost spills the juice.

"Does Andrew wants me to help him with my mouth?" she thinks, "He's so shameless!"

"Don't you know how to do it?" a woman sneers, "May I teach you?"