The Observation Deck

The Cajun Chronicles

Part I: Observation Deck

The sign always brought her to her happy place, regardless of how many times she'd seen it: OBSERVATION DECK, VIP PASS REQUIRED. Much like the kid at Christmas who kinda sorta knows what he's going to be getting, the sight of that tree on Christmas morning still fills him with an almost unbearable anticipation. This was much like that except... different. Tami had that feeling at the pit of her stomach that a person always gets right before they're about to do something as taboo as it is irresistible. Strange too, as she'd crossed that moral Rubicon several month ago, when Universal first opened this particular attraction. She passed this off (to herself, of course, and to her husband, Michael) as being easily entertained or perhaps just easy to please in general. Tami Delacroix was 33 years old, 5'8", around 140 pounds, with jet black hair and one of those unnaturally perfect, head-to-toe Florida tans. Her husband Michael was an architect at the largest firm in Orlando and had inherited an estate a few years ago in excess of $55 million from a great uncle who, in his will, had tried to prove a point about how he wasn't going to put up with any shit from his ungrateful brats. It was fair to say that Tami and Michael had been enjoying the last couple of years in grand style.

Despite its prominent-sounding name, the deck was actually located inconspicuously on the 16th floor of the Aventura resort hotel. Not only did the floor not look like it contained any "attractions," but looked comically, almost purposely, unexciting. It more closely resembled a generic office floor with a few cubicles dotted here and there, a central kiosk, and several hard-walled offices with doors that locked.

The cool air conditioning felt good when the doors to Aventura opened for her---it was the middle of July and so far it had been an unusually hot summer, even for central Florida. The sign that brought a smile to Tami's lips was located right past the lobby before the main set of elevators. It was placed directly outside a single elevator that went directly to the 16th floor like it was the Empire State Building. Universal had implemented its select VIP program less than a year ago but it was already proving to be immensely popular with patrons with a lot of extra money and a rather blurry moral center. The elevator door opened as soon as she pressed the up button, the gods smiling on her as they most assuredly had been in the past couple of years. She punched in the five-digit code, feeling the butterflies in her stomach as soon as the elevator started its ascent. The anticipation was always her favorite part. Well that and the beatings.

Being diagnosed with OCD at an early age, she kept an insanely rigid record of the comings and goings in her life. The world of depravity was no different---this was her 37th visit to the observation deck in nine months and one week of it being opened. She had come on the first day and had come (and came) regularly since then. She didn't get tired of things she loved--she was unusual in that respect. Even just counting the family-friendly attractions, her hours at Universal would be the average theme park attendee to shame. But the deck had quickly become her favorite destination here. The elevator shot her up to the 16th floor almost in a matter of a couple of secons. The doors opened to a perfect rectangular set up with the central kiosk in immediate view. Surrounding the kiosk on the sides were individual hard-walled offices that could have belonged to any number of bank VPs (as opposed to the wealthy sadists that actually used them). Tami was pleased to see Britney on duty today, who greeted her with her usual smile and eyes that just sort of naturally winked without winking. As always, Britney rocked the Florida version of business casual, which for her was basically a white skirt, navy blue halter top, and a pair of white high-heeled sandals with white toenail polish that contrasted well with her near perfectly tanned size six feet.

"Time limit today, Tami?" Unlimited time was an extra $1,000.00.

"Nah, I got time. Michael's flying today and I have the morning to myself." Back when he was flying a two-seater Cessna, she could count on Michael coming back after a couple hours of flying, but now that he had his own private jet, she never knew where he was going or for how long, at least not on Sundays, which was his designated flying day.

"Awesome! Tell him I said "hi" and we miss seeing him here. You want some punches thrown today?" Injuries were an extra $1,000.00. Almost every VIP member paid the additional grand for this little garnishment (Tami called it "lagniappe," being of Cajun stock traceable as far back as 1773).

"Oh gawd yes," Tami exclaimed, "it's been a week and I need to hear some bones breaking!" Both women giggled---lilting, carefree laughter.

"You got it!" Britney said. "That'll be $6,000.00." Tami handed her six thousand dollar bills and bounced off to her observation room, handbag in tow.

The individual observation rooms were as unassuming as the building itself. Each one was a four-sided, hard-walled office with a large desk in the center that faced a windowless wall. The walls were unadorned, with the exception of a single, rather cheap-looking hotel type painting that usually sat on the wall a few feet to the right of the door. There were windows on one side, but they were mirrored, of course, and were exclusively for looking out of. Very few of the VIP guests ever gazed out of the windows, however, as the "observing" they were there for done through a 55-inch monitor that was attached to a laptop that sat on the desk. A random "plebe" (a favorite word of Tami's, even before she won life's lottery) that accidentally wandered up to the fifth floor would likely leave with a bewildered look after not only not seeing an outdoor deck of any kind, but no apparent way of even going outside.

The laptop was already on, with several apps available on the desktop, each with innocuous but somewhat unusual labels: kitchen, jail, eviction, bankrupt, SNAP, terminate. The scenarios were typically pre-selected by the VIPs, but they were still allowed to click on the one they had pre-selected because the Universal marketing wizards had determined that guests (and particularly VIP guests) enjoyed the illusion of a more immediate sense of control. Same principle with the interaction with Britney up front. Almost everything was pre-selected, but Universal found through trial and error that the vast majority of their VIP guests (male and female) enjoyed the festivities a fair degree more if they got to interact with a young, pretty woman (who was in on the fun) right beforehand.

Already wet and a little flustered as a result, Tami clicked on the app marked "eviction" with more eagerness than she cared to exhibit (she was sure the observation rooms came with hidden surveillance cameras, but her lifelong exhibitionism was too ingrained to make her mind too much). The scene was exactly what she had requested: government housing in the shitty part of town, tenant behind on his rent, complete with a shitty, woe-is-me attitude and the assigning of blame to anyone but himself. Tami had only one restriction that she insisted on in every observation: adult males only, no women, no kids. It was about as much of a moral code as she could muster, and even that took some effort---some of these female vermin were serious cunts who could use some crushing, but she managed to control her urges in that regard. It worked, however. She got to indulge her darkest fantasies while simultaneously, and passively, taking out some aggression on the inferior sex.

This scenario did not disappoint---large bodied, muscular, tatted up deputy, khaki uniform with the Orange County Sheriff emblem on the arm, probably some 'roided up douchebag with a penchant for violence and a dangerously short temper. He looked to be in his late 20s. In other words, perfect. He had two other deputies off to the side in case things got too ugly but, as usual, they had been instructed to wait on the sidelines.

The 'roided ape pounded on the door marked "4F," and loudly proclaimed "Orange County Sheriff, please come to the door immediately with your hands free and where I can see them!" Tami felt a jolt of pleasure course through her entire body, warm and electric, traveling in a constant arc from her pussy to her throat. She couldn't tell where it started or ended, only that it was in a wonderful, frenetic loop that didn't seem to have an endpoint. She also didn't think cops normally told tenants that were being evicted to "come out with their hands up" in grand cop fashion but the deputies had all been told (and paid handsomely) to amp up the drama factor for the entertainment of the VIPs. It worked. Tami could hear what sounded like muffled, drunken shouting from behind the door---this was going to be good. The door opened, more slowly than she expected it to, revealing a man of around 35, red-headed, pale, shirtless, black Nascar cap with the number "3" in the center, scraggly beard that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in four months and somehow appeared even more red than his hair, a pair of cutoff jean shorts, and a pair of, for some reason, pink crocs. Our hero was holding a 16 ounce can of Budweiser and glaring at the muscle-bound deputy with drunken, simian contempt. She couldn't ask for a better stereotype outside of an episode of Cops.

"What the fuck you want, chief! I didn't call for no law, motherfucker!"

"Derek O'Reilly?"

"You know that's who I am, motherfucker."

"Good morning, Mr. O'Reilly, my name is Deputy Chris Barnes, I'm with the Orange County Sheriff's department, I'm here to execute on an eviction notice that was sent to you 30 days ago." Tami was impressed this gorilla had decided to start with the polite route. It wouldn't last long, of course, but she was impressed nonetheless. She put her hands down her shorts and started lightly playing with herself, just enough to tease but nothing more--she was worked up enough at this spectacle to where anything more would cause an immediate explosion and she needed this to last.

"Chris fucking shitfuck what?! Motherfucker, I just got that shit last week, whatchu talkin bout this 30 days shit?!" He was telling the truth. The eviction notice had just been served less than a week ago, and Florida law required the tenant be given 30 days to correct the deficiency. But the truth was, Tami knew, that the odds of this disenfranchised loser even showing up to court to challenge it, much less having any kind of supporting documentation, were slim to none. So she specially requested that the evictions be done contrary to the legal waiting period. They also weren't supposed to serve any papers on Sundays, one of the remnants of the old Sunday "blue laws" which Florida still clung to like Linus and his security blanket. She liked it better when they weren't even given a chance to pay what they owed--the deliciousness of watching life's brutal thumb crush these vermin into the ground while not even playing by the rules had been the cause of countless orgasms for her over the past few months.

"Sir, please don't resist me, I don't want this to get ugly," said Barnes.

O'Reilly flung his head up in an almost comical simulation of dignified defiance that was almost instantly ruined when he fell backwards, losing his balance and falling over a Styrofoam cooler that was a couple feet away and falling flat on his back. Tami covered her mouth and giggled, forgetting temporarily that neither man could hear her.

She saw Barnes tense up and knew this was going to be the excuse he needed. "I warned you not to resist me, you dumb fuck!"

"Hey motherfucker, it was yo ass that made me fucking fal--"

Barnes didn't even let him finish. He strode over to O'Reilly on the floor, faster than she thought a man of his size would be able to manage, and began pummeling him in the face. Immediately three of O'Reilly's teeth went flying out of his mouth, blood began pouring and O'Reilly began screaming like a little girl. He covered his face in panic, unprepared for the onslaught of brutality brought on by this mindless thug of a (very well paid) cop. Barnes continued to land punches, she could hear bones snap and O'Reilly crying out in pain.

It was at that point that Barnes called in the other two deputies. All three men took turns kicking O'Reilley in the ribs, legs, arms, and face. Tami gasped in pleasure, abandoning the toy in her bag, sticking two fingers (the fingers were barely necessary at this point) deep into her ridiculously wet pussy, moaning audibly and then yelping (someone only listening would have thought she was being tortured herself) in ecstasy at the sight of this real life drama, played out specifically for her benefit and at her request, paid for with an amount of money that would be enough for Derek O'Reilly to have a fresh start in life but to her represented nothing more than a morning of fun distraction. She loved that part--the fact that the same sun beamed down on both of them, regardless of how lucky or unlucky either person had been. She would suffer no consequences as a result of this (other than her many orgasms, if you wanted to call that "suffering"), whereas he would more than likely end up in intensive care at some shitty public hospital, eventually being discharged with no home to go to, but with multiple broken bones trying to heal and knowing in advance anytime it was going to rain for the rest of his life.

O'Reilly lay on the floor groaning, gasping for breath, losing the only shitty home he knew and trying to desperately to retain consciousness. He was sober now. Tami liked to know if the men she selected had a history of domestic violence and she wasn't surprised to find out this specimen had five arrests and two convictions. Yet another reason she enjoyed selecting men only for her fun. It was always so nice to see these cocky, brain-dead piles of white trash shit who constantly talked and acted tough when it came to beating the shit out of their wives laid low, subservient and afraid and taking orders. Orders that she gave, however indirectly. Further research revealed he had been out of work for the past five months. Big surprise there, she murmured to no one in particular.

"Now look at me, fuckstick. I don't give a shit where you go, what you do, or how you do it, but you're getting the fuck out of here tonight. All your shit is going to be donated to the nearest landfill, and you're gonna say you got carjacked in St. Augustine, you got me, bitch?" She was impressed he could speak in complete paragraphs.

"Yeth thrr," O'Reilly managed to croak.

"Good. Now one more thing. Look straight at my body cam lens and say 'Thank you Queen, I hope you had a wonderful time'."

"What the fuck are you thay---"

One of the other deputies kicked O'Reilley in the stomach before he could finish his question. The look on his face combined with the stupid, oafish noise when he doubled over in pain was all Tami could handle, and she came all over her well-manicured hand, making no effort to hide her shrieks of pleasure. Britney, listening from the kiosk, smiled and began to involuntarily rub her legs together.

"Now once you get your breath, say what I told you to say, twatface."

Confused and in agony, O'Reilly looked up and managed to slur out through missing teeth "Fank vu qeen, hope you hath a good thime."

Tami smiled wide. She had indeed had a wonderful time.

On her way back out, Britney looked up at her and gave her an enthusiastic, sunshiny smile, "Missing teeth a nice touch?" she asked, and winked.

"Oh my gawd, yes, thank you so much!!" She gave Britney a big hug accompanied by a long, slow kiss but broke it off abruptly. Britney looked up at Tami with a look of playful poutiness. Tami responded "I know, I know, I'm sorry, but Michael and I have our Urinal making our dinner tonight and if I don't supervise, I'm afraid he's going to fuck it up again. Plus I kinda promised him I'd let him give me a foot rub before dinner. I do have time for a drink, though!"

"Yay!" exclaimed Britney, and the two of them headed to the elevator to take the one floor ride up to Bar 17.

Sitting on one of the comfy couches in the outdoor drinking area, both women nursing their girly cocktails, Britney asked "What's your Urinal making for you guys??"

"Cajun style shrimp, and if he fucks it up again, he has to sleep out in the doghouse covered in a wool blanket."

Britney laughed, "Oh my gawd, you're such a bitch! Isn't the low supposed to be like 82 tonight?"

"Yep! But hey, don't blame me, the blanket was Michael's idea," said Tami, twinkle in her eye indicating that she thought it was a completely delightful idea.

"Well well well, I guess that's a win either way for you guys, huh?" Britney said with a wink.

Tami smiled. Yep. She supposed it was. Tami found herself silently hoping the family Urinal had fucked up another meal.

Part II coming soon...