Re: Quicky Sanders Collection
Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2021 10:03 am
Under Construction
Hotel heiress Tia Wellington placed her cocktail glass on the table. Excusing herself from the guests, she made her way towards the bathroom. She flashed a smile at the security guard, and more than a bit of cleavage. "I think Mr Hilton over there has had a bit too much to drink. Would you mind escorting him to his vehicle?" The guard, flushing from the personal attention from one of the richest women in the world, scuttled off to do his duty. With him out of the way, Tia walked past the bathrooms, entered the maintenance hallway, and out the back door.
Like the party, the hotel was just a fake front. Her father was obligated to throw a soft launch party for the investors, who were given luxury rooms. But the back of the hotel was a mere concrete and steel shell. The money had dried up, the workers were not being paid, and the pandemic had crippled their ability to keep the project going. Standing by one of the incomplete balconies, she looked out over the vacant lot. More tragic than the half-complete hotel was the second wing - or what was supposed to be the second wing. Originally meant to be built simultaneously, the lot was mostly vacant, with only a few construction vehicles dotted around the site, but virtually no work had been done, and no buyers had been found to take up that part of the property.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels echoing down the hall. She turned to find a familiar face.
"Getting stuffy back there, don't you think?" said the dark-haired woman.
It had been months since Tia had tried to silence the reporter from leaking her family ties to the mob. But after the mob held them both hostage and extorted ransom money from her father, Tia felt a connection to Sanders and her efforts to reveal the truth, even at risk to her own life. She had been lying low, watching the mob take over more of the family business. She needed someone to know what was happening before it was too late, and Sanders was the only one she could trust.
"Let's go for a walk," said Tia. "There are too many eyes and ears around here. I need to show you something."
The two women disappeared from the hotel grounds. Tia led the way to the vacant construction site, slipping through the unlocked fence. The night was cold and there was a slight drizzle, and their low-cut evening gowns and heels were ill-suited for the outdoor work site. The damp ground was slippery, though they avoided the worst of it by traversing the wooden planks that zigzagged across the site.
"It's the mob," Tia blurted out, unable to find a way to tactfully breach the topic. "They're virtually in control of the business now. They forced my father to employ their people. They control the books. They're using the hotel as a front for their activities. And this," she waved at the empty site around them, "is how they will ruin our family name."
"I'm no expert," said Sanders, "but I don't think this meets any legal guidelines." There were none of the typical signs she expected on a worksite. Equipment was left precariously in the open. Even the boards they were walking over looked improvised - they had no handrails, and they felt unsteady over the soft soil beneath.
"That's exactly it," said Tia. "The mob have been sabotaging the whole project. The inspectors are going to have a field trip, and my father is going to take the hit. Look at that." Tia pointed to a truck that had partially sunk into the muddy ground. "The mob knew that this lot wasn't suited for heavy construction. Last week a worker nearly died after they got stuck in a sinkhole. We're working through the compensation now. There are dozens of these cases lined up, and more waiting to happen." Tia felt flustered, her voice beginning to shake. "I'm telling you this because...I don't know how to get out of this. I just want you to know that it's not us. My father's being used, and if something happens, it's over for him, for me...I know I sound like a rich spoiled brat. I know you don't trust me after everything I did to you. I just...it's the truth. I just want you to know before something happens."
"Hey, it's okay, I believe you," said Sanders, placing her hand on Tia's shoulder. "I've been through this with the mob too. You're putting yourself in a lot of danger by revealing this. I'll do my best to make sure the truth is known. Now let's get back to the party. It's getting a bit too chilly out here, don't you think?"
As they crossed the wooden boards, they suddenly felt the ground move. They planted their feet and tried to keep their balance, but the board they were standing on broke free and began to slide. "It's a sinkhole!" Tia shouted. "Jump!"
It was too late. The entire section collapsed, plunging them into a deep muddy pit.
"Ugh!" Tia groaned. "My dress is ruined!"
"I think we've got bigger problems," said Sanders. Apart from the steep, slippery walls that surrounded them, and they had sunk chest-deep in thick mud. Then she noticed that bubbles were forming on the surface.
"It's the water main!" said Tia. "My father got fined when the builders broke the main. That's why we stopped the construction. The builders never fixed it, so it's been leaking since. That explains the sinkholes. This whole lot is like giant pit of..." Tia froze, realising their peril. "Quicksand!"
The ladies tried to wriggle free of the thick mud, but it was no use. Their arms were pinned to their bodies like cement. Whatever small gains they made were immediately lost when the sand pulled them back down. The water leak continued to bubble through the mud, keeping it liquefied, and the women continued to slip deeper. Tia watched helpless as the quicksand began to rise over her large breasts. She squirmed in a futile effort to resist its advance. Sanders was no better. Then, they felt their descent stop. Their feet reached a denser, more solid layer.
"We've stopped sinking!" said Sanders. "Whatever you do, don't move!"
"What do we do now?" asked Tia. "Our arms are stuck, and if we move, we'll sink again!"
Calling out for help was useless. No one would hear or see them in the dark pit in the middle of a fenced-off construction site. Those at the party would not miss them. They braced themselves at the thought of being trapped overnight until the morning shift found them. But then she remembered that it was Friday. No one would come by until Monday morning - if even then.
As the pair settled up to their breasts in the bubbling mud, they pondered their remaining options. Would their resourcefulness show them a way out, or would their disappearances lead to the downfall of the Wellington family business?
Hotel heiress Tia Wellington placed her cocktail glass on the table. Excusing herself from the guests, she made her way towards the bathroom. She flashed a smile at the security guard, and more than a bit of cleavage. "I think Mr Hilton over there has had a bit too much to drink. Would you mind escorting him to his vehicle?" The guard, flushing from the personal attention from one of the richest women in the world, scuttled off to do his duty. With him out of the way, Tia walked past the bathrooms, entered the maintenance hallway, and out the back door.
Like the party, the hotel was just a fake front. Her father was obligated to throw a soft launch party for the investors, who were given luxury rooms. But the back of the hotel was a mere concrete and steel shell. The money had dried up, the workers were not being paid, and the pandemic had crippled their ability to keep the project going. Standing by one of the incomplete balconies, she looked out over the vacant lot. More tragic than the half-complete hotel was the second wing - or what was supposed to be the second wing. Originally meant to be built simultaneously, the lot was mostly vacant, with only a few construction vehicles dotted around the site, but virtually no work had been done, and no buyers had been found to take up that part of the property.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels echoing down the hall. She turned to find a familiar face.
"Getting stuffy back there, don't you think?" said the dark-haired woman.
It had been months since Tia had tried to silence the reporter from leaking her family ties to the mob. But after the mob held them both hostage and extorted ransom money from her father, Tia felt a connection to Sanders and her efforts to reveal the truth, even at risk to her own life. She had been lying low, watching the mob take over more of the family business. She needed someone to know what was happening before it was too late, and Sanders was the only one she could trust.
"Let's go for a walk," said Tia. "There are too many eyes and ears around here. I need to show you something."
The two women disappeared from the hotel grounds. Tia led the way to the vacant construction site, slipping through the unlocked fence. The night was cold and there was a slight drizzle, and their low-cut evening gowns and heels were ill-suited for the outdoor work site. The damp ground was slippery, though they avoided the worst of it by traversing the wooden planks that zigzagged across the site.
"It's the mob," Tia blurted out, unable to find a way to tactfully breach the topic. "They're virtually in control of the business now. They forced my father to employ their people. They control the books. They're using the hotel as a front for their activities. And this," she waved at the empty site around them, "is how they will ruin our family name."
"I'm no expert," said Sanders, "but I don't think this meets any legal guidelines." There were none of the typical signs she expected on a worksite. Equipment was left precariously in the open. Even the boards they were walking over looked improvised - they had no handrails, and they felt unsteady over the soft soil beneath.
"That's exactly it," said Tia. "The mob have been sabotaging the whole project. The inspectors are going to have a field trip, and my father is going to take the hit. Look at that." Tia pointed to a truck that had partially sunk into the muddy ground. "The mob knew that this lot wasn't suited for heavy construction. Last week a worker nearly died after they got stuck in a sinkhole. We're working through the compensation now. There are dozens of these cases lined up, and more waiting to happen." Tia felt flustered, her voice beginning to shake. "I'm telling you this because...I don't know how to get out of this. I just want you to know that it's not us. My father's being used, and if something happens, it's over for him, for me...I know I sound like a rich spoiled brat. I know you don't trust me after everything I did to you. I just...it's the truth. I just want you to know before something happens."
"Hey, it's okay, I believe you," said Sanders, placing her hand on Tia's shoulder. "I've been through this with the mob too. You're putting yourself in a lot of danger by revealing this. I'll do my best to make sure the truth is known. Now let's get back to the party. It's getting a bit too chilly out here, don't you think?"
As they crossed the wooden boards, they suddenly felt the ground move. They planted their feet and tried to keep their balance, but the board they were standing on broke free and began to slide. "It's a sinkhole!" Tia shouted. "Jump!"
It was too late. The entire section collapsed, plunging them into a deep muddy pit.
"Ugh!" Tia groaned. "My dress is ruined!"
"I think we've got bigger problems," said Sanders. Apart from the steep, slippery walls that surrounded them, and they had sunk chest-deep in thick mud. Then she noticed that bubbles were forming on the surface.
"It's the water main!" said Tia. "My father got fined when the builders broke the main. That's why we stopped the construction. The builders never fixed it, so it's been leaking since. That explains the sinkholes. This whole lot is like giant pit of..." Tia froze, realising their peril. "Quicksand!"
The ladies tried to wriggle free of the thick mud, but it was no use. Their arms were pinned to their bodies like cement. Whatever small gains they made were immediately lost when the sand pulled them back down. The water leak continued to bubble through the mud, keeping it liquefied, and the women continued to slip deeper. Tia watched helpless as the quicksand began to rise over her large breasts. She squirmed in a futile effort to resist its advance. Sanders was no better. Then, they felt their descent stop. Their feet reached a denser, more solid layer.
"We've stopped sinking!" said Sanders. "Whatever you do, don't move!"
"What do we do now?" asked Tia. "Our arms are stuck, and if we move, we'll sink again!"
Calling out for help was useless. No one would hear or see them in the dark pit in the middle of a fenced-off construction site. Those at the party would not miss them. They braced themselves at the thought of being trapped overnight until the morning shift found them. But then she remembered that it was Friday. No one would come by until Monday morning - if even then.
As the pair settled up to their breasts in the bubbling mud, they pondered their remaining options. Would their resourcefulness show them a way out, or would their disappearances lead to the downfall of the Wellington family business?