“Camille’s Captive” © 2009 by Arika Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions contained herein are purely fictitious.
The slightest jerk signaled the train’s departure from New York’s Penn Station. Camille Andrews settled back comfortably in her private compartment. Her fear of flying was a nuisance, especially as so much of her business had become bi-coastal. It turned what should have been hours in the air into a three night long and boring cross country expedition. Still, she would be comfortable. She had made the trip several times now and the generous gratuity she always left with the steward, Washington, guaranteed she would be well looked after. He’d assured her that he would be serving her car all the way to Chicago and would make sure her luggage was shifted onto the train for Los Angeles.
The adjoining toilet and its tiny shower stall were not much but at least they were private and always spotless. Camille changed into a fresh blouse and freshened up. A couple of strokes with the brush set her long raven hair in place. Her smooth tan complexion and violet eyes required little make-up. The lounge and dining cars were not far and she decided that a trip for a Martini and a look at the menu might be nice.
She was relieved to find the car almost empty and took a window seat at a table alone. Her drink was served quickly and, to her pleasant surprise, was icy enough. Perhaps Washington had already spread the word that she was a tipper. If so, she did not mind. Camille was used to paying for what she wanted and, as long as she got it, was happy to do so.
The car began to fill up rather suddenly. A glance at the diamond studded face on her wrist explained it. She’d arrived just before the dinner rush. A balding fellow in a bow tie appeared and placed a pudgy hand on the back of the chair opposite her.
“Do you mind?”
He was half sitting as he asked.
“Yes, actually I do mind. In fact, I’ll order three extra meals before I suffer your company.”
It was said with irony but it arrested his descent and sent him hastily on down the aisle, muttering as he went. Camille smiled at the wrinkled pinstripes of his departing back and turned her attention back to the menu. She was just deciding that she would order something brought to her compartment instead of enduring the growing babble, when a body dropped down across from her. She looked up sharply with fresh barb on the tip of her tongue. It was never uttered though.
It was a young lady and a very attractive little thing as well. Suddenly, the long trip ahead held promise rather than boredom and Camille came alive in every nerve. An astute observer might have noticed the change in her as she coiled up in interest. A graceful and very intrigued cobra into whose presence a very sweet looking mouse had just ambled.
The girl looked up at Camille with cornflower blue eyes framed by glossy red hair in a loose pony tail. She made an apologetic face.
“Oh I’m sorry…I should have asked first but you are the only one sitting alone and...”
“No, it’s fine. I am pleased to have your company.”
“Ok. Thanks.”
Camille watched her fiddle with a backpack and come out with a pair of reading glasses. The girl looked up again and seemed a bit self-conscious to find Camille observing her.
“I lost a contact and haven’t been able to replace it.”
The explanation was defensive. Camille merely nodded and continued to watch as the girl studied the menu and then dove once more into the backpack. She took out a wallet and counted the bills in it. Camille saw only one dollar bills. It was then that the waiter appeared.
“We will have another pair of Martinis. After those, I think the veal cordon bleu for two and a bottle of your best white wine.” Camille declared.
“Yes Ma’am. Does the young lady have an I.D.?”
“She left it in our private compartment. If you are going to be tiresome my niece and I shall retire there and Washington can bring our dinner and receive my tip.”
“Oh…I’m sorry. That won’t be necessary, Ma’am. Since she is your niece I’m sure all is in order.”
Camille smiled graciously and the waiter departed, leaving her to wink at the girl’s startled expression.
“But I am only eighteen.” The girl whispered, “And besides the drink I don’t think I can afford what you ordered.”
“Shhh! What they don’t know won’t hurt them and as to the meal…that will be my treat. I remember what it was like to be a student with little money.”
“I don’t really know what to say, Ma’am. I don’t…”
“Just a simple thank you …and call me Camille.”
“Alright, then thank you…Camille. I’m Susan Parks.”
Camille shook the hand that was extended and enjoyed its fleeting softness.
“And where is Susan Parks going to?”
Camille was interested but keeping the girl busy answering questions also allowed her to study her prey without her focus seeming anything other than innocent. And so it went. The drinks and meal were served and Camille skillfully drew the girl out.
Susan had been a foster child in a less than pleasant home outside White Plains. By being very studious she had earned scholarship offers from several schools and had chosen a California college to get as far away from her immediate past as possible. Her foster parents had scoffed and insisted she stay and work in their cleaning business, where she had been little more than fed labor since they had gotten their hands on her. But with the little money she had squirreled away she had seized her chance and fled, leaving only a vague note of farewell.
Camille thought to herself that a more perfect girl for her needs could not have appeared in her dreams. The bobbing red pony tail and faint spray of freckles were fetching. The girl also had exactly the sort of tight, slender body that attracted Camille. The fact that she had showed some grit in attempting to escape such a dreary existence appealed to her as well. The bald fact was that little Susan had nothing to return to and no certainty ahead. The girl was warm, living clay to be molded.
By the time they had finished desert, the Martini and white wine had done their work. She had insisted Susan try a pony of Grand Marnier for good measure.
Camille explained to Susan that having claimed her as a niece that it would not do for her to make her way back to a coach seat. She had plenty of room in her private compartment and they could talk comfortably there. In Susan’s tipsy state, it seemed to her that this older woman she had just met was a good fairy incarnate. She happily followed Camille down the aisle.
Susan was in awe of the small compartment’s comfort. Never having traveled before she had no idea that trains offered more than the crowded seat she had found assigned her. While Susan was ‘oohing and ahing’, Camille rang the service bell. Washington knocked almost immediately and entered at Camille’s word.
“Yes, Miz Andrews?”
“This is my niece, Miss. Susan Parks. I thought she and I had missed one another at the station but she was able to get a coach seat at the last moment after all. Unfortunately, she has lost her ticket. She will share my compartment, so make out a new one for her with accommodations that match my own. Washington will take care of your luggage if you remember your seat number, dear?”
“48B…it’s only a small suitcase under the seat.”
“We would also like another bottle of the Riesling we had with dinner and no disturbance after that until morning.”
“No problem, Miz Andrews.”
Camille handed him her credit card and another fifty in cash. Susan was taken aback by such uncalled for generosity from a near stranger. As soon as the steward left she began to protest such a gift but Camille hushed her.
“Just hush and don’t be silly. I want your company.”
Camille’s tone was definite and Susan’s protests fell away though she did rummage out her coach ticket.
“Maybe if you give him this it wouldn’t cost you as much?”
Camille smiled and took it. She moved to the window, lowered it and tossed Susan’s coach slip to the wind.
“Lost is lost!” She laughed.
When Washington returned with Susan’s bag and new ticket Camille took charge of it and tucked it away in her bag while the wine was poured. Once the steward had again smiled his way out, Camille relaxed and sipped as she steered the conversation toward what Susan was expecting in L. A.
Susan confided that she did not know a soul in California. Apparently some student aide had told her that once she arrived to enroll someone from admissions would answer any questions she had. Camille decided it was almost too good to be true. This girl really was little Miss Naïve. All the drinks and the train’s jostling finally forced Susan to ask for the toilet.
“Go freshen up in the washroom and when you come back out we will pass the time with a new game I shall teach you.”
Susan reached for her backpack but Camille placed a hand over it.
“Use my stuff. It is already in there and there are fresh towels.”
No sooner had the door closed than Camille had the backpack’s side pocket unzipped and the girl’s wallet out. She looked at the girl’s driver’s license. Susan Parks…and she really was eighteen…perfect. She dropped the license in her pocket. Behind the license, four neatly folded one hundred dollar bills had been hidden. There were no credit cards, only a couple of school photos and a letter of award for the scholarship the girl had mentioned. Camille debated chucking the lot but decided a bluff would be enough. She added it all to the license in her pocket. She remembered Susan’s glasses and hid them away as well.
With Susan’s empty wallet in hand she moved to the open window. She let the outside air blow her long hair back and hummed as she waited. This would be the acid test.
When Susan emerged from the toilet cubicle Camille turned to face her, smiling. She allowed the girl to register the wallet in her hand and then flipped it over her shoulder out the window.
There was a strangled cry as Susan lunged past her. She could only stare stupidly at the rush of receding track for a moment before turning her head back in. Camille met the girl’s incredulous eyes coolly.
Susan was still a bit addled from the unaccustomed drinks. She stared at Camille blankly as she tried to make sense of the older woman’s sudden change of attitude. Her dumbfounded dismay was replaced by a flash of anger and she started forward. She only made a half step before Camille’s palm smacked her cheek sharply. The suddenness of it halted her in mid stride.
Camille watched the tears well up with satisfaction. She had been correct. The girl was weaker than she. It only remained to show her that she was out in the world on a thin string.
“Sit down and listen!” Camille ordered.
Susan dropped onto the settee with her head in her hands.
“Stop blubbering and pay attention.”
Susan looked up through wet eyes and grew quiet.
“I told you I would be teaching you a new game. It is called pleasing Camille.”
“Pleasing you? You must be crazy.”
With a look of defiance, Susan stood back up.
“I’m leaving and I’m going to report this.”
“Go ahead. You think they will believe you over me?”
Although greatly sobered, Susan’s head was still fuzzy. Camille saw the uncertainty as her words hit home
“Now you have nothing. If I call the conductor and tell him… you will be put off the train. It will be a momentary embarrassment for me. I will say that you told me you were destitute and I lied…claiming you were my niece to help you…but that then you became problematic and not worth helping. I might even tell them that I came out of the toilet and caught you going through my purse.”