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Subject: {ASSM} Girls' Nightmare Out, 4 of 4
Date: Fri,  7 Feb 2003 23:10:03 -0500
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Girls' Nightmare Out, Finale
By Rogue Alan

Part XVIII

Jordan wasn't sure why he was feeling the clock was ticking; he knew
better than to push too hard. The girl might get skittish, his front man
might get suspicious, or Tom might simply decide to bolt. & he was too
close, after too long without any shot, to risk messing things up. As he
fixed his tie-he'd decided to use the 'new John' approach, unsure of
what was expected & a perfect means of flattering the girl-he imagined
what they would say when he single-handedly proved to his superiors (&
their superiors) that he hadn't been dreaming when he claimed there was
a nationally organized syndicate of prostitution. The Bureau had gone
along to a point, allowing his investigation of some alleged crimes in
the brothels of Nevada. But they had balked at his suggestion that there
was anything more than the local pimp running a handful of girls
elsewhere in the continental US, pointing out that anything so big was
bound to be discovered, as always happened to the various 'madams' whose
'businesses' seemed to implode every few years. They had laughed at
Jordan's circumstantial evidence-the same man shepherding some of the
same (but obviously varying) attractive women, hosting 'meetings' in
Orlando, Tampa, Austin, Dallas, San Antonio, Phoenix, Vegas, Santa Fe,
Albuquerque, & Denver. Except the Denver & San Antonio 'nodes' as Jordan
had taken to calling them had been discovered after he had been told to
stop his investigation. At the time, he had angrily demanded a hearing,
during which he could present his findings; he had been poised to ask
for a task force to address the situation when his boss had shut him
down. He'd thought the high profile nature of the evidence he'd
collected-sports figures, politicians, entertainers, and 'kings of
industry' trysting with winsome young women-would be an easy sell in
Washington. So he had been puzzled at the total wall he hit. & he was
more puzzled when it became obvious that someone was gunning for him,
trying to ruin his career. But his boss had noticed as well. & while the
man was a politician at heart, & couldn't... or wouldn't see what was
plain to the other investigators Jordan had consulted early on to be
sure he wasn't imagining things, he was also aware that agents like
Jordan Franks were too valuable to be squandered to political
expediency. He pointed out that Jordan had barely touched his vacation,
which had accumulated over almost a decade & a half of continuous
service, & so Jordan had grudgingly taken a leave. But he had hardly
taken the time off. Unassisted, he had opened an investigation,
gathering evidence until he had an air tight case, except that he still
did not know the true identity of the man whose face he could not
discern in the early photos, which were taken at a distance and a bad
angle. & his later shots, of the women he knew to be a part of the
syndicate & the steady roll of new recruits, were without any
'chaperone.' Which told Jordan someone inside-likely out of the Bureau
but in DC's political circles-had leaked what the Bureau knew. Tom had
changed his MO, protecting himself so well Jordan had nearly lost the
trail except for a lucky sighting of 1 of the 'known' girls with a
newbie in Vegas. The flight back to Denver had put him on the trail
again. He realized that DC was an obvious choice for a node in Tom's
'chain' of call services. He guessed that was the reason no one had
jumped, even when he had played the 'race' card that he had loathed
throughout his tenure in the Bureau; even the most bigoted SOB he'd ever
met, a DDC in the DC office, had shrugged at the obvious difference in
Tom's clientele & employees, repeating the 'party line' that 'there was
not, nor could there be an interstate prostitution ring of
significance.' & there were problems, Jordan knew: why were there no
'disgruntled employees?' Even the best pimp had girls who went south, or
went crazy (or started out that way). It wasn't something law agencies
wanted to admit, but most soliciting arrests stopped at the bottom of
the chain-the hooker on the street-unless she was angry enough at her
pimp to sell him out. & at some point that always happened. Except to
Tom. Jordan had tried to guess how he could keep all of his girls happy.
Or lacking that, how he could so successfully keep the angry ones from
going to the cops. In his experience, the pimps willing to 'make an
example' of their girls to keep one quiet & the others docile were
equally volatile in dealing with the Johns. Which wasn't Tom's style.
But he couldn't really see the man buying off every working girl who got
a bug in her panties... he'd go broke. & ignoring that, why were there
no unhappy Johns? Working girls always got greedy... how could Tom keep
his girls in line so that they put out, pleased their customers, but
didn't ask for too much in return. Not to mention the question of how
Tom got his customers. Until the night before, with a guy Jordan knew
wasn't his quarry, he'd never gotten close enough to consider asking for
'a date' as Mike had put it. So he decided the sudden turn of fortune in
his favor was the reason he was feeling antsy. & vowed not to waste the
chance. Which meant he couldn't go full bore asking all sorts of
questions on his 'date.' He had to hope he could reasonably ask to 'see'
whoever he met again, & thought that the story he'd fed Tom's surrogate
the night before would make that easy enough. Of course, if he'd been on
the Government clock, doing the deed would be out of the question
(ignoring what the deep cover boys & girls did, of course). In some ways
it was good he was on his own. But it didn't mean he wouldn't be
careful. Pocketing a strip of condoms, he checked to be sure his only
identification was that of the bland executive in a Styrofoam plant he'd
had inserted into the national files while lifting his own real
package-a parting gift from the boss for his 'fishing trip.' Jordan eyed
the hotel room, making sure there was no tell tale that'd freak the girl
out; he remembered a sting gone bad when a 'priest' had a Glock sitting
on the coffee table in his hotel room when Jordan brought the mark into
the room. Taking a deep breath, he headed for the door, reminding
himself again not to push things this first 'meeting.' "Enjoy yourself,"
he said aloud, then stepped into the hallway. 

Melissa felt naked as she sat on the same stool she'd occupied the night
before. She'd tossed back 2 drinks while worrying that a Shriner she
knew through her husband or church or school would happen by & see her
in the slinky glitter accented dress with the plunging neckline. She'd
downed another while considering her 'dates' from the night before might
find her & want an encore. Mike had told her she was 'on' at 7-she
didn't like the way he leered when he said it, making it seem dirty,
whereas Tom just talked about her work as if it was another day at
school. But Mike was in charge of this one, Tom had said so himself, &
she guessed she'd have to get used to him. She'd arrived from the
next-door 'ready room' at 6:50, specifically to have a couple drinks
beforehand. But looking at the empties arrayed in front of her, she knew
she'd done more than that. She waved to the bartender, whose expression
betrayed his disapproval of her, though she didn't know if it was her
drinking or dress that offended him. Probably both. He paused long
enough to ask if she wanted another. Ignoring his tone of voice, she
shook her head, reaching for her purse to pay. "Here, let me," it was
the man from the night before. Melissa felt a strange conflict. He'd
been so nice, she'd almost convinced herself he didn't know what she
was. Obviously that wasn't true. He was just another John. "I can't let
you do that," she shook her head. His hand closed over hers. She stared
for a moment, surprised at how big he was; she hadn't noticed that the
night before. "I insist. I was late getting here," he smiled at her,
"But I wanted to look good." "You do," she bit her lip, amazed that
she'd said it so spontaneously. But by his smile it was the right thing
to say. Score another for the soothing effects of vodka. "Well then,
shall we?" he offered an arm, having flipped enough bills to cover the
tab & a generous tip onto the bar. She stood, aware of the way the short
skirt rode up her thighs as she did so, & taking a moment to straighten
it-as if he wouldn't soon see everything beneath-before accepting his
gesture. To her surprise, he turned away from the elevators, toward the
parking garage. "Uhm... I don't..." "Oh..." he stopped, & she imagined
she could see him blush, "I'm sorry... I just," he sighed, then leaned
toward her to whisper conspirationally, "I haven't ever really done
this, you know... I just... I saw you last night, & then a gentleman
suggested I could be with you. I assumed that meant for dinner as well
as... you know." Melissa was sure of it, then. He was blushing. She was
also aware of a strange excitement that he wasn't a regular-that he'd
been interested in her. "I think that's OK," she nodded, leaning against
him with a familiarity neither yet felt, "Where did you have in mind?" A
handful of nearby restaurants flashed through her mind, along with the
thought they were overdressed. "Well, I'd thought about Skye's, but..."
he paused at the look Melissa hadn't been able to hide, "Is something
wrong?" She swallowed, then managed to shake her head, worried she was
ruining the whole thing. "No," she stammered, "Wherever you want." She
tried to remind herself it was the middle of the week; the odds of
friends being at the revolving restaurant were slim. "You seem...
anxious," the man offered as he led her into the garage, walking toward
a sleek, sporty car. He held the door for her as she waved away his
concern. "No. I was just surprised. Usually it's barbeque or room
service." She winced at the suggestion she was that familiar with eating
with a 'client' & hoped he wouldn't be turned off at the thought she was
a regular working girl. "Oh," he was quiet after he'd climbed behind the
wheel. He started the engine, backed out of the stall, & waited until
they were headed south before he spoke again, "You sure that's it?"
Melissa paused, asking if this was another of Tom's tricks. Or
Michael's. She decided that if this guy really was going to be her
ticket to freedom, she had to be as honest as she could. "Well... don't
get me wrong, I love the thought of dinner at Skye's. I just... you know
how this works, right? What I am?" That seemed to fluster the man. "Well
yeah... I mean, you're a call girl. Michael explained that in nauseating
detail... that I was 'paying to play' I think is what he said. So I
wouldn't have to 'mess around warming up.' Whatever that means." Melissa
rolled her eyes at Michael's suggestion. She realized it was even more
important this man become her sugar daddy. "He didn't... he didn't say
anything else about me? About why I do this?" Jordan's brow furrowed &
he glanced at her for a minute, then back at the road. "Well... he said
something about you were married. I just thought that was a story. You
mean it isn't?!" Melissa shook her head, chewing at the inside of her
right lip as she did so. Answering his question could give him the key
to ruining her marriage. "Doesn't your husband mind... I mean, he's OK
with that?" Melissa took a long breath before she answered, reminding
herself what was at stake. "He doesn't know." "Damn..." the man shook
his head as he thought about that. His free hand had been resting
between the seats, & she'd assumed he was working up the courage to
touch her. She'd found that hesitancy charming, but was alarmed when he
brought it back to the wheel. "So you had to wonder if he'd see you
there with me," he nodded his understanding. Melissa echoed his nod.
"Him or friends of ours." "You must really..." he left off, then changed
the subject, "We could go somewhere else... I mean, somewhere you
wouldn't be recognized. "That's OK," she waved a hand at him, "I don't
think it's a risk. & we can't drive around too long or I won't do my..."
she'd been going to say 'job.' "I won't get to be with you tonight. Like
Michael said, I have to be done before 11, sort of like Cinderella &
midnight." He smiled at that. "OK, then, Cinderella... to the ball." 

Dinner passed quickly, during a little more than a turn of the
restaurant around the panorama of the city. Melissa ate sparingly, the
food better than she remembered. Unlike her husband, Jordan didn't
comment on her drinking, even buying a 2nd bottle of wine with the main
course. She felt pleasantly loose as they returned to the car, having
heard about his job, being to busy for kids, & the death of his wife. He
kept insisting she must be bored, but she found it appealing-almost
attractive-that he was staying in place, learning to appreciate his
memories rather than running from them. & it was flattering that he
wanted her to be the 1st woman he'd been with in more than a year, after
losing his wife to cancer. That, along with the way he'd treated her
throughout the evening, left Melissa intent that he would enjoy himself,
even if she was late getting home. & even if he never called on her
again. For his part, Jordan had repeatedly asked himself how such a
beautiful, companionable woman could be so hooked on sex that she risked
everything selling herself to strangers. He wisely didn't pry, but knew
enough to lace his story with elements that drew her out. She went on
about teaching when he mentioned his wife had been a school librarian;
she admitted to having children & to their importance when he lamented
not having any. & he wasn't lying when he said he hadn't been with a
woman for a long time-his wife had been less understanding of his 'whore
obsession' as she'd termed it before leaving him for the neighbor in
their DC suburb. On the drive back, he hesitantly reached across the
seat to touch Melissa's thigh. When she didn't move, he began to back
off, not wanting to push things too far when he was so close to his
quarry. Her hand caught his, though, holding hit in place & giving a
reassuring squeeze. "Then you want to go do this... be with me?" her
voice was quiet but he heard her clearly. He felt himself growing hard
as an image of her lying in her lesbian lover's bed filled his head. "I
do." She nodded, never letting go of his hand. They walked into the
hotel from the garage arm in arm, & she led him to the elevators pausing
as they turned by the panel of numbers. 

"I don't know which room," she whispered, almost a giggle. He cleared
his throat, reaching forward to touch the appropriate floor. "Sorry," he
mumbled as they started up. He wasn't sure whether to be glad or anxious
that they were alone... if she tried to start anything there... "Don't
be," she simply leaned against him, "It's nice not to be thought of like
that..." she trailed off, leaving him to wonder again how she could stay
in a lifestyle she clearly didn't like. 

She waited demurely until the door was closed & locked before gently
putting her arms around his neck, tilting her head to kiss him lightly.
The kiss lingered, & he responded, hands moving to her trim waist. Her
body pressed against his; not obscenely or suggestively, merely
responding to their mutual arousal. After a minute he pivoted, holding
her firmly as he did so, & guiding them to the nearer of the twin beds.
He turned again as she sat & then lay back on the comforter, keeping
their bodies close, lips together, but holding himself off to the side.
"Mmmm," she purred when the kiss broke after a minute, "I like that." He
just nodded & smiled. She looked at him, wondering what it was that was
so attractive, "I worried I'd scare you off... or that you'd be too
eager to really enjoy it." Jordan shook his head. "I want you to enjoy
yourself, too." "That's not... that's nice," she sighed as his hand
moved beneath her skirt, staying outside her panties, but caressing her
mons, while the other traced a circle around 1 raised, taut nipple. He
didn't stop to wonder if her response was genuine. Her hands moved to
his shirt, unbuttoning despite the awkward angle with practiced ease
that also went unnoticed. Within moments, she was freeing his belt &
opening his pants. "Oh my," she murmured again, as her hand dipped
inside, finding his semi-erect member, "I'm sure I'll enjoy this." They
continued to kiss & caress one another, undressing over a few minutes'
time, until they lay together, totally naked. His body pressed against
hers, & he was ready to take her then & there, but she sat up, bending
to his waist, letting her blonde hair cascade over his jutting erection.
"I think this needs a little attention," she murmured before taking the
head in her mouth. Jordan groaned in appreciation as she began to
fellate him. She licked up & down his length at 1st, before taking him
into her mouth again, bobbing her head & sucking at him with increasing
fervor. Despite knowing what she was, Jordan was surprised that she
could take almost his entire shaft without difficulty; he wasn't a small
man by any measurement. A fact he proved by easily lifting her naked
hips & turning her until she was straddling his face, so that he could
return the favor. His tongue flickered over the top of her slit & he
smiled at the way her back arched, pushing her pelvis at his face. There
was an appreciative moan around his swollen cock, which was repeated as
he began to lap at her sex, spreading her pouting labia a bit more with
each stroke. He toyed with the ring in her labia, the 1st time he'd seen
1 up close, then began to thrust his tongue deeper into her channel. He
was pleased to find that it was not only man-made lubricant easing the
way-she was aroused, & becoming more so. 

He had submitted to a rapid response HIV test administered by Michael
the night before, while the pimp went through the do's & don't's of
enjoying 'his' girls. Condoms were a must for penetration, he'd warned,
though he'd been less exact about oral activity. As thoughts of such
started to slip from his mind, Jordan tipped his head back, growling,
"I'm getting close. Do you uhm want to do something?" There was a pause
in the delicious sensation of her mouth working his cock before she
replied. "Not for this. Just before we Oh!" she gasped as he took her
clit in his mouth, sucking at it lightly while teasing the surface with
his tongue. Her body spasmed, & she eagerly dove back onto his shaft.
Within a moment he'd cum, as well. She didn't stop, though, when he'd
finished pumping his load into her mouth & throat. He felt her fingers
teasing his balls as he head bobbed steadily up & down. He rose quickly
for more, after which she finally released him, smiling teasingly as she
slid over his body, trapping his swelling erection against her belly &
mons, almost low enough to slip into her. "Still interested in being
with me?" she teased, giggling at Jordan's nod. His hands moved over her
body, lingering on the pierced nipple, & he wondered briefly if it kept
the nubbin perpetually aroused. "This is interesting," he murmured,
playing the part of the naïve widow, "Did it hurt?" "I don't even
remember," Melissa nuzzled his neck, wiggling her pelvis suggestively,
"It wasn't my idea to get it." That surprised him, but he tried not to
let on. "Oh... Does it help?" He felt her smile again. "Sometimes. But
tonight I haven't needed 'help.' That was wonderful a moment ago."
Jordan rumbled happily. 

"Tell me about it." He felt her shift, then, flexing her back, which
drew her pelvis up. His cockhead brushed between her labia, then pushed
gently into her sex. She sighed settling onto him slowly as he
remembered they'd skipped a step. "God that feels good," he managed,
pumping his hips at her slightly as additional proof. She stopped,
holding him 1/2 inside of her for a moment before rocking up toward him
again. The 2nd down stroke, he felt another inch or 2 slip into her
molten center. His hands came up, thumbs tweaking her nipples. Melissa
tipped her head back, rocking in a small motion that steadily worked
more of his member into her tight sex. She bit her lip, aware that he
was almost as big as Tom. & despite her 'rule' to the contrary,
comparing his tenderness to Jeff. The combination was undeniably
arousing, which was the reason she'd chosen to take him-if only for a
moment-into her sex without a condom. She had 1 in her hand, & would
stop to put it on him as he got closer, but knew he'd be able to go for
awhile, having blown 1 load already. She felt her inner thighs brush
against his & knew she was almost fully impaled. She felt the familiar
stretch of being totally filled, & smiled-he was as big as Tom, at
least. Leaning back, she reveled in having him inside of her fully. She
looked down, still smiling at the expression in his eyes. "Are you all
right?" he asked, hands on her waist, supporting her. She nodded, then
leaned forward to kiss him hungrily, rocking her hips more quickly than
before. God, he felt good thrusting into her like that! They moved in
unison, rocking together harder & faster for several minutes. Melissa
had enjoyed two strong orgasms when Tom sat up, bringing Melissa upright
with him. She giggled at his surprise when she quickly laced her legs
around his waist without disengaging from his pleasantly aching shaft.
Turning, he moved over her into the missionary position, intent on
pleasuring this enigmatic young woman as fully as possible. "Wait," she
managed after he'd been thrusting into her for a minute, building her to
the edge of another climax, he was sure. He paused, wondering what was
wrong. "I need to get this on that wonderful cock before it's too late,"
she murmured. He nodded, reluctantly slipping out of her sex. She deftly
slid the latex sheath onto his member, & then he resumed his steady
pumping. She'd timed it well-he was getting close, & true to men world
wide, he'd stopped thinking about protection long before. They came
together a minute later, muffling one another's cries in a passionate
kiss. Spent, he rolled off of her, but making a conscious effort to pull
her close in an intimate post-coital hug. She lay there for several
moments, murmuring contentedly. When she finally sat up, it was with a
groan, having checked the clock. "I really have to leave," she sounded
apologetic, "I hope you enjoyed yourself." "I hope I can enjoy you
again," Jordan blurted, then asked himself if he was asking as he'd
planned, or because this woman was honestly captivating. She nodded,
upper incisors closing over her lower lip in an endearing expression. 

"If you'd like that... I would too," she hesitated, "This was the best
time I've had since I... since I started doing this." She got quickly
off of the bed reaching for her discarded clothes before she continued.
"I really mean that. I wish I could stay longer, but... I can't."
"You're sure?" Jordan realized he wanted to be with her again right
then, to hold her as his own. He wondered if that was the reason men who
used prostitutes kept going back... was this a normal response. He
doubted it, but didn't know why he'd feel it in the middle of the case
of his life. "That's the downside of cuckolding another man," she
sounded unexpectedly bitter, but quickly apologized, "That wasn't fair.
& I really did love being with you." "That wasn't why I asked for
you..." "What?" "I didn't know... I mean, I didn't know you were
married," he gave a short laugh, "Hell, I didn't realize you were a...
professional when I met you last night." He watched, sure that she'd
bought his white lie. 

"I don't know that I'd call myself a professional," she shook her head,
"Though I guess that's as accurate as any other word now..." A
melancholy seemed to fill her, then, & she turned away from him,
dressing quickly before she moved to the bedside once more, "I'm
sorry... this was wonderful & I'm ruining it. Thank you for dinner. &
for letting me be the 1st after your wife. I'm honored... & I hope
you'll ask for me again... I'd like that." Jordan reached under the
pillow, the agent in him sure she was fishing for a tip. Before he could
bring his hand out, though, she'd bent to kiss him quickly on the cheek,
then had turned & let herself out of the room without another word.
Jordan leapt out of bed, confused at her obvious sincerity, incredulous
she hadn't wanted anything from him, & aware she was walking off with a
potential lead-wherever she changed from a housewife to the vamp he'd
met in the bar. Guessing it wasn't in the hotel, Jordan threw on a pair
of sweats he'd set out earlier & dashed out of the room. For once he was
glad for the slow elevators & for being only on the 6th floor. He burst
out of the stairwell seconds before he heard the chime on the elevator
door, & had barely enough time to step back behind some partially
concealing greenery. He watched as Melissa went out the front of the
hotel & turned right before he dashed down the hall extending the same
direction. He was relieved to find there was not an alarm on the exit
door... just a sign warning he could not re-enter from that point. He
scaled the concrete retaining wall separating the hotel from the
slightly more elevated neighbor, & followed the call girl at a distance.
Inside a decidedly seedier apartment building, he ducked into a shadow
at the front & watched her get on the elevator. Fortunately she was
alone, & the car climbed rapidly to the 4th floor. Moving to the
mailboxes, then, Jordan glanced at the names. There were 14 nameplates
on each floor. He quickly eliminated most of those on 4, except 3 that
were blank, 1 that was identified only as 'Fun LLC' & #413, which was
labeled 'Jerry Gerlz.' That clinched it for Jordan, who knew that his
quarry liked to be called Tom, and that his all of the man's 'girls'
were 'marked' to show his ownership. Having seen Melissa's various
adornments, he was guessing the tattoo was Tom's doing. Which made him
wonder how she had explained it to her husband; except that she
apparently had a thing for body art, anyway, so maybe he hadn't thought
twice about it. Not wanting to attract any attention, he turned,
checking the place out more clinically as he left, and watching for any
sign someone had noticed him or was watching. He backtracked to his
room, trying to decide how to proceed. 

Part XIX 

"Finally," Jeff eyed her from the doorway to his den. Melissa had barely
showered she'd been in such a hurry to get home. Still the clock had
been chiming 12 when she entered the hall from the kitchen. "Hope you
had a good time." She was getting used to that tone. A semi-sarcastic,
resigned pessimism she'd never known in him. At 1st it'd made her feel
guilty, but after a couple weeks, during which he'd proven he'd rather
play the part of the put-upon spouse than address any real issue, she
was almost avoiding him. She meant to do that again, shrugging & saying,
'It was fine, but it's good to be home,' as she passed him in the hall.
He reached out, though, catching her waist-not gently. 

"Where were you?" Melissa blinked, reviewing what lies she'd told that
night. Kathy was home, so she hadn't had that as an excuse. 

"I stayed late doing lesson plans-you hate it when I do them here." 

"All night?" 

"Of course not," she crossed her arms over her chest, eyes ablaze at his
suggestion, true though it was, "I graded some papers, then went to join
some of the others who'd gone to Tom Fooleries." Which was true, at
least that they'd gone there. "Why?" she stared at Jeff, wondering if he
suspected somehow. 

"I drove by to surprise you... you've been so busy, I thought we
might... I thought we'd do something together." She noticed his grip
hadn't gotten any lighter, "You were there all night?" She shrugged
again. 

"Nope. I'd missed them by the time I got there. So I went into Barnes &
Noble for awhile, then had a bite at Canyon Café. I'm sorry, I should've
called. But you had that late meeting, & the boys had practice, & I'd
said I was going to be late..." She turned slightly as she left, & could
see over his shoulder at his computer screen. There was an inch tall
blonde gyrating in an endless loop, bending over & waggling her naked as
at the viewer. Her eyes moved to the web page that was open, & without
thinking she said, "Oh my God! What are you looking at?" He read her
tone as disgust, which was a good thing. 

"Hey, it's not like I'm cheating!" he pushed her back, blocking her
view, "It's not like you've shown any interest, lately. I'd heard about
this site at work. Well, not this site... a site that puts a list of new
pictures up each day." 

"That's obscene!" she turned away, as if she could still see the screen,
but the image remained behind her eyes. "Horrid." 

"I dunno," he shrugged, "It's not like those women don't want what
they're getting... they apparently like sex!" Melissa ignored the shot,
his second in less than a minute. She paused, trying to remember when
they'd last had sex. She wasn't sure. & she didn't know if she cared.
All she knew was she didn't want to push the issue or have him look too
closely, since the masked women being used by several black men were she
& Kathy. She remembered the title at the top of the page: Big Dogg's
Blacks on Blondes. As she turned forcefully in his grip, her hip brushed
against his pelvis, & she felt the erection. She recoiled at the thought
the images of her being used like that aroused him. "Does that excite
you?" she asked without thinking, "Is that what you want? Do you want me
to let you & your friends degrade me like that?" He snorted. 

"Puh-leeze... as if you could," something inside of Melissa flickered &
died at his words. This wasn't the man she'd married. He was still
talking, "... do share a matching taste in what's that you call it? Body
Art? Maybe she's the slut you saw in Vegas." 

"You didn't mind the change a month ago," she seethed. 

"I was still getting some a month ago," he retorted, 1 hand reaching up
to cup her pierced breast forcefully, "What is it? That all you need
now? Do you get yourself off with those piercings so you don't need a
man?" 

"Go fuck yourself!" she almost shouted, barely remembering the boys, "Go
back to your computer & beat off, you little little man!" His face was a
mask of rage as he caught hold of her blouse in his hand, propelling her
backwards down the hall to their room. 

"Little man?" he snarled, "Little man! Let's see if I can't make you say
different. You're my wife! I won't take that shit from you!" He'd kept
hold of her, & as they passed into the dark bedroom, he paused long
enough to kick the door closed. But he didn't let go of her. He pushed
her onto her back on the bed, laughing as her blouse tore in his hands.
She lay frozen in terror as he yanked at her skirt, ripping her panties
away. There was a pause, during which she heard him open his pants. He
stepped away from the bed, & she let out a breath, assuming he'd come to
his senses. A moment later, though, his weight was on top of her as he
drove his hips at hers savagely. She winced, having washed the lubricant
from her sex before heading home, but before the discomfort increased,
he was all of the way inside of her. She dimly felt him bite at a naked
nipple, thankfully the unpierced side. "Is that small? Huh? Had you
forgotten? I bet that's it. You're so busy hanging out with Miss
Too-Good-For-Anyone & playing Miss Perfect Teacher to consider having
sex." He was pumping against her relentlessly, "I shouldn't have been so
calm about it... should've reminded you sooner what gets you off!" He
was panting, & she realized he was already close to cumming. She closed
her eyes, fighting back tears at finding what a sham her marriage really
was. & not because he suspected her of infidelity... or at least, not
mostly because of that. Scared of what he'd do if she didn't react,
Melissa let the 'pro' she'd become take over, arching her back & moaning
softly, her fingers digging into the back of the man rutting into her.
"Uh-huh, see? Told you I could remind you what you need." He stopped,
giving a groaning sigh as he came inside of her, then. He held himself
over her, thrust fully home like any john she'd ever known, then rolled
off to lay panting beside her on the still made bed. Within 2min she
could tell by his breathing he was asleep. She leaned over, sniffing,
hoping he'd been drinking. There was no odor to his breath. She lay
back, enduring the bout of shakes that wracked her body as she relived
what had just happened. For an awful moment she wondered if he had
decided that was the way he liked to have sex. She got up from the bed,
padding down the hall into the guest bathroom in her ruined clothes, &
dropping to her knees by the toilet before becoming violently ill. As
she sat on the cold tile, her forehead against the porcelain stool, she
wondered how things had gotten so upside down. It nearly made her vomit
again, when she found herself hoping Jordan would call, offering a
pleasant interlude from the hell her homelife had become. Heedless of
how she looked, she went into the sitting room, pouring herself a
healthy dose of the bourbon she was replacing several times a week. As
the liquid warmth moved through her, taking away some of the horror of
the night, she returned to the den. The high-speed Internet connection
was full-time, so she needed only to move the mouse, & the images of her
'enjoying herself' as Jeff had put it were before her. She knew that
Kathy had her own e-mail address at work, & quickly copied the address
to a note, warning her not to simply pull it up where anyone could see.
Having sent the warning to her friend, she backpaged to a 'Daily Thumbs'
page that, like Jeff had said, offered an endless string of 'new' images
of named porn actresses & 'amateurs.' It looked to Melissa like Jeff had
viewed most of those sites. Shaking again, she realized she couldn't
very well argue with his looking... he wasn't cheating; he was doing
what he needed to satisfy himself when she hadn't-she could admit that.
She'd lost it, though, at the thought he might so easily find out about
her own double life, & at the fear of what would happen if he did. It
scared her, though that she'd felt nothing but revulsion, even
acknowledging that she had been neglecting him. He hadn't been loving,
hadn't been gentle or caring, hadn't appreciated her putting up with
that, & most importantly, he hadn't been able to begin to arouse her.
Melissa returned to the bedroom after a long hesitation, wondering if he
ever would again. 

The next morning, Jeff was already gone when Melissa awoke, too late to
consider showering before work. She looked at her reflection in dismay,
making a minimal effort to look presentable. At least she wouldn't be in
the same clothes. She found the note on her vanity. 'Sorry I
overreacted... let's talk tonight when I get home (9-late meeting).
Love, Jeff.' She reread the note, then crumpled it, wondering what sort
of 'meeting' he had, & angry that he'd so lightly treated what had
happened. She tossed back her morning double while fuming over his
apparent attitude, & welcomed the familiar glow that made it matter
less. Appropriately supplied to endure the day, she climbed into her car
to head to school, having made sure the alarms would wake her sons in
time for their classes. On the way, she considered the dream that had
awakened her. Whereas she'd gone to bed anything but aroused, she woke
on the slippery edge of climax, nearly shouting Jordan's name. Not Jeff.
Not Tom. Something about the stranger who'd been with her the night
before still resonated within her. After assuring herself Jeff wasn't
there, she'd indulged in her body's need, fingering herself to a
satisfying climax, using her memory of the night before to continue her
dream, rather than change it. As she sat at a light, a 1/2 smile on her
face as she relived the dream & what it had done for her, she was
surprised-but not uncomfortably so-that she didn't feel guilty. Telling
herself it would help her to get through the rest of her 'debt,' she
decided she was glad she was hoping Jordan would call. 

Kathy sat down at her terminal & logged on, pulling down her bosses'
e-mails & then her own, reviewing & sorting as predecessors had paper
messages. She put Melissa's message off until last, expecting a
brief-sanitized-version of the night before. After reading the cryptic
message & it's accompanying warning, Kathy stared at the screen, trying
to decide what to do. She got up abruptly, printing the note, then
deleting it completely before directing the others' mail to their
electronic boxes with appropriate notes. Jotting a note that she would
be back, she hurried to the elevator, the single sheet of paper clutched
in 1 hand, & took the elevator to the research area. Company policy
prohibited 'personal surfing' & she knew the main terminals were
monitored for such. But the research terminals were used to gather all
sorts of information for various cases, much of the data 'questionable'
by moral standards. Better, to promote use of the system, which had been
invaluable in several cases, those systems were always on-line & were
not monitored. She was lucky to find an open unit, but reasoned the law
clerks (lawyer wannabes, mostly) who did the majority of the searches
were seldom seen before 9. Checking that no one was nearby, Kathy
quickly typed the address line into the header & pressed enter.
Puzzlement gave way to shock as the title appeared, followed by the
minimized thumbnails of she & Melissa putting out for a group of naked
black men. There was no doubt it was t hem, & Kathy wondered if Jeff had
seen it & realized what was happening. She decided not-Melissa wouldn't
have just called if that had been true. She also considered whether Fred
would recognize her, & discounted that possibility-he barely knew what
she looked like, any more. But it did mean potential leverage... there
was no telling what Tom was pulling in on this little side business, but
Kathy guessed they could shave some of their debt through knowing about
it. But she knew she'd need proof. She quickly saved each of the images,
as well as the master page & the URL to 1 of the blank CD ROM's lying
around the room. Pocketing the disc, she deleted the history reference,
& returned to her desk, tucking the disc, in it's plastic protective
sleeve, into her purse. Locking the purse in her desk drawer, she took
enough additional time to visit the ladies room-the pictures had left
her aroused she decided to masturbate quickly to get on with the day's
activities. Each time the phone rang, though, she found herself hoping
it would be Mike, asking her to join her that night. The thought he
would soon be in charge of their debt kept her on the edge of needing
another trip to the bathroom. 

Twice Melissa was nearly caught taking a drink, & the way the 4th grade
teacher eyed her, she suspected the sour biddy knew what she had hidden
in her purse. & her desk. Aware what would happen if she was caught, she
went out for lunch, relocating her stash to her car. & like Kathy, she
found herself hoping for a phone call, wishing Jordan would ask to be
with her again. She called home when school was out & she'd finished her
lesson plans. The boys were home but were going to friends for dinner.
Instead of going home, Melissa sat at her desk, trying to understand
just how she'd gotten into such a situation, & to guess where it would
lead. She absently opened her purse & checked her cell phone, surprised
to find the screen blank. When she plugged it in, she found no fewer
than 4 messages. The 1st was from Kathy, suggesting they meet. The 2nd
was from Mike, telling her he could 'put the john off' but gloating that
she 'must've really put out' because the guy from the night before was
interested in 'another taste.' Grimacing at the man's leering tone, she
nevertheless felt an emotional lift-Jordan had really enjoyed himself.
But before calling back, she reviewed the other messages. Kathy called
again, saying simply she'd been called by Mike, & hoped they could
'share' an excuse, adding that they should talk at the dive bar near the
apartment before 'work.' The final was an exasperated Mike, threatening
to revert to the cryptic home & work messages if she didn't check her
voice mail more often, & giving her a deadline to respond before he told
the John she was 'otherwise engaged.' Afraid of what that might mean to
Jordan, Melissa glanced at the clock. She had less than 5 min to call
Mike & give an OK. As she dialed-Tom's number, since he'd turned his
similarly 'blind' phone over to his new partner-Melissa admitted that at
least he'd given her a choice... Tom would've told her when & where he
wanted her. She wondered how long it'd be before Mike adopted that
attitude. 

She met Kathy for a drink before going up to get ready. Kathy explained
that she'd seen the site & planned to talk to Michael about how much
extra time they get credit for, since 'internet sales' hadn't been
discussed in the release she knew they'd signed. Melissa was hesitant to
confront Tom, remembering the way he'd punished her the last time, but
her friend was so certain Michael would listen & be reasonable she
didn't argue. She also didn't let on that she was actually looking
forward to her 'date.' While she honestly loved her friend, Kathy's
obvious devotion to their new pimp was unsettling. Especially when
compared to Tom, who was no prince, the man was a lech. Breaking her
usual routine, Melissa actually showered before getting ready to meet
Tom. She felt strangely nervous, paying more attention to her make-up, &
putting it on more tastefully than Tom had counseled for her usual work.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the towel in the basket to
walk naked to the closet, she saw Michael & Kathy talking in the corner.
His eyes followed her across the room, but her friend seemed not to
notice, despite the fact she was staring adoringly at the pimp. Melissa
realized that galled her-that he knew the way Kathy felt about him &
used it to his advantage. Even before Kathy approached her a moment
later, she knew the web-site would mean no more points off. She was
right. "Michael explained they calculate the web sales into our totals,"
she explained breathlessly as she took off her blouse. Melissa realized
her friend had previously lost her bra-before going to talk to the
pimp-& wondered again at what her friend was thinking. "That means it'll
help us down the road, but no one knows how much." She giggled, "He said
we should visit the site a lot, since part of our credit is based on the
number of hits." "You're sure chipper," Melissa immediately felt guilty
for the shot-it wasn't like she was unaffected, either. Kathy merely
nodded. "I have a quickie, so Michael's going to take me when I'm done."
"Take you out? So I shouldn't wait?" Kathy blushed as she leaned over.
"No... he's going to fuck me. I'm so hot just thinking about that I'll
probably cream no matter what the John's doing." "I guess that's a good
thing," Melissa answered neutrally, again reflecting on the fact she
hadn't put any lubricant in her sex for the night. She was ashamed to
admit to herself she almost hadn't put any condoms into her purse." Like
it or not, both women were adapting to their situation, focusing on the
few positives that existed in the world of a whore. Kathy jumped up,
clearly primed to do her trick & return for some of Michael's attention.
But Melissa didn't mind her friend's impatience, closing her things into
1 of the many locker-sized cabinets & joining her on the short walk to
the hotel. 

"You're early!" Jordan Franks was seated in 1 of the shadowed booths
when Melissa hesitantly looked into the dim room. She smiled & nodded,
suddenly feeling happier than she had all day. She hurried toward the
table, but he met her 1/2 way. The change in him was striking... he
wasn't hesitant as he'd been, & she wondered if other things would
change as well. "You're ready to go upstairs," she murmured after
accepting a full kiss from her 'date.' Part of her had hoped to get a
drink 1st. "Oh no... unless you're in a hurry," Jordan took her arm,
leading her again toward the garage. "I thought we'd go to Herford
House... it's there by Bazooka's." "I know," she blushed, wondering if
that made him think she'd been in the strip club. "You know you don't
have to do this," she offered. He nodded. 

"I want to... this may be business for you, but I am going to treat it
like a real date..." "I like that... & you... & it's not just business
for me, either," Melissa surprised herself by meaning that. "But it's
business for your..." he glanced at the desk clerk, who eyed them
knowingly, "Manager." Melissa looked around. "I'd rather not talk about
him." Jordan stiffened, "Is something wrong? Is he doing something to
you? Forcing you to do this?" Melissa smiled at his outrage but couldn't
bring herself to admit the truth. Any more than she was willing to deny
it, even if it was another of Tom's traps. "I'll be glad you want to be
with me then," Jordan nodded his head decisively, "& we'll leave the
other to later... I don't want to force anything on you." "You're not.
Honestly... I was hoping you'd call." Melissa blushed again. 

"Then we have to talk sometime, too." He eyed her meaningfully, "I need
to know what's wrong so I can fix it." For a moment Melissa allowed
herself to imagine her 'sugar daddy' buying her out from under Tom's
cruel debt. But she knew that wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. & if it
did, what would that mean for her marriage. She was glad when Jordan
didn't press the issue. He turned the Crown Vic over to a valet,
escorting the beautiful, & he was beginning to realize, distressed call
girl inside. He spoke quietly to the hostess, asking for something
intimate, & they were early enough she was able to accommodate them,
providing an alcove booth for 2. Melissa suggested he order for them
both, & he didn't miss her relief when he ordered a bottle of wine to go
with the meal. He guessed she was walking the ragged edge of having a
problem with the booze, another suggestion all was not as it seemed.
Even so, she smiled & talked openly about herself, laughing at his good
jokes, groaning at the bad ones, & managed to eat more of her meal than
she had the night before. He asked after dessert, & smiling
suggestively, she said she was waiting to get back to 'his place' for
that before she excused herself to the ladies' room. So he was surprised
when she reappeared seconds later, skin deathly pale, eyes wide, almost
panting. "Melissa!" he rose, reaching for her. She sagged against him,
eyes fluttering slightly. He could feel her shaking. "Get me out of
here!" she murmured. Concerned about her, about himself in case Tom had
somehow twigged, & about whatever else he didn't know that could affect
her so, Jordan threw enough money to cover dinner & a tip on the table,
& 1/2 supported, 1/2 carried her out, asking the valet to hurry as he
waved a 10 spot at the man. He hoped it was the man's glance at the
clearly distressed woman that propelled him into the lot. While they
waited she pulled him back against the building, out of clear site of
the door. His sense of self-preservation fully activated, it was a
struggle for Jordan to keep his hand away from the little 9mm hideout
tucked into the back of his pants. Melissa ignored his questions, eyes
seeming almost glazed, the shaking returning now & then, lasting a few
seconds, then passing. A moment later the Crown Vic was before them. The
dash she made toward the door was her 1st independent action since he'd
grabbed her by the table. Eyeing the restaurant the whole time he moved
around & paid the grateful but curious valet, Jordan slipped behind the
wheel. The tires were hissing on the pavement before his door had
closed. He looked at Melissa, expecting her eyes to be locked on the
passing glass storefronts, but they were caged straight ahead, fixed on
nothingness. 

Melissa was barely aware of the car's motion, or of Jordan's concern as
he watched her. She kept asking herself if she'd really seen... no, she
knew it was true. Turning the corner toward the ladies' room, she'd
caught a ready glimpse of Jeff's meeting. It wasn't any office
meeting-he was seated at an angle to a painfully thin redhead. Their
fingers were twined, & as she watched, the woman's foot brushed
suggestively over her husband's calf, to the man's obvious pleasure. He
said something & she nodded, reaching for her glass as he speared the
last morsel of steak on his plate. The redhead somehow sensed she was
being watched, then, & she glanced up, smiling knowingly at Melissa. The
emotionless, professional 'leave him alone, this one's mine!' glare
Melissa had seen used on occasion in the make-up room at the apartment
had lit the woman's otherwise stunning face. Spinning on her heel before
Jeff noticed her, Melissa had fled back to the table, fighting for
breath & not to scream or cry. He was cheating on her, & because he
wanted to. It seemed they hit every light on the way back to the hotel.
The trip took long enough that she had recovered somewhat by the time
they pulled into the garage. & the shock & humiliation had become a
boiling anger. She checked her appearance in the mirror... not too bad.
The last thing she wanted was to draw Michael or Tom's attention. Jordan
made no effort to get out of the car after he'd killed the engine. He
tentatively reached over, covering her hand in his. Looking at him, she
bit her lip, aware of her keen need to be with someone right then. "Can
you talk about it?" "After," she said, "Right now I want you to make
love to me." He nodded, still worried about her reaction, but worried as
well at the way a part of him reacted to what she'd said. "You're sure?"
She nodded, managing a smile as she pulled him to her, kissing him
passionately. "I guess that's answer enough for me," he checked the
watch on the dash, "Do we have time?" There was a curious pause before
she nodded. "Tonight I'm all yours... but..." "But what?" she looked
down, not wanting to answer. 

"I need to feel you inside of me now... I want to lay beside you more
than I could last night... but I have to go get my things 1st... my real
things. Otherwise... I can't let him know what I'm doing or there'll be
trouble." She watched him, & he saw the fear in her eyes. He wondered
just what Tom had done to her in the past that she was so skittish.
"That takes a lot of trust to say to me." She nodded. "I'll earn that
trust." She smiled briefly, though he could see the fear remained in her
eyes. "We should go upstairs." She nodded, and they returned to the
hotel hand in hand. With each moment as they moved through the quiet
atrium to the elevator and into the faux gilt cage, the thought of what
she was about to be doing with this quiet man built within Melissa a
fierce arousal. Before the doors had closed fully, the pretty blonde
teacher had turned, pressing herself boldly against a relative stranger,
not caring who saw her wanton advance, hungry to be with him-to feel him
within her-once more. Jordan responded instinctively, amazed at how
quickly the woman had shifted from a strange mix of anger and despair to
a passion so strong her body he could almost feel her body humming. He
was dimly aware her hands were nearly tearing his shirt, she was working
so frantically to free the tail. Pushing away from the back of the
elevator, he gave her the room to get his shirt untucked, his erection
jolting as her fingers slipped beneath the cotton, running over his
skin, nails scratching lightly. She broke the passionate kiss that had
lasted fifteen or twenty seconds, burying her face where his shoulder
met his neck, murmuring her need as she pressed herself against his
crotch. This was not the almost shy, carefully subservient woman he had
known before, and Jordan sensed this was somehow the real woman. His
breath caught as her fingers found the front zip, & before he could
voice an objection, she had his pants half open, fingers desperately but
gently tugging at his shaft. The cool air was proof she had succeeded, &
unable to think clearly enough to worry about what might happen, Jordan
sagged against the wall of the car as the petite blonde slid languidly
down his body until she could take him in her mouth. He gripped the rail
with both hands as Melissa's head began to bob feverishly. She was
taking him completely, and again he was amazed at the skill she
displayed. Such thoughts quickly vanished as she built him toward
climax. He was ready to shout as the bell chimed and the car jolted,
slowing before it reached their floor. For a moment Jordan considered
stopping her, aware their display could land them in the local lock-up.
But Melissa didn't hear or didn't care... or the risk of being caught
added to her own needs, because she simply sucked at him harder, holding
her face against his crotch. A moment later it was too late to do
anything but gasp as she carried him over the edge, slurping up each
heavy shot of his semen without coming up for air. He was still firing
into her throat when the doors parted, luckily to an empty hall. Aware
that could change any moment, Jordan caught the amazing woman at his
feet by the armpits, lifting her off of his semi-erect pole. She whined
in protest, eyes clearing from the lust haze enough to remember where
they were. She blushed prettily, and did not protest when he turned her,
using her to hide his open pants and flagging cock as he guided her to
his room. A different room than the night before... much higher, he was
glad, considering what had happened. And Melissa clearly wasn't sated,
as she pressed her taut rump against him with each step. For a moment
Jordan wondered if nymphomania had led the pretty lady into the life she
led. She was certainly more aggressive than she had been the night
before. As proof, she turned while he groped in his pants for the key,
wrapping her arms around his neck, one leg rising to his waist, allowing
her to grind her pelvis against his crotch. He realized she'd somehow
stripped off her panties-had to have happened in the elevator-and her
sex was literally dripping wet. It truly had been a long time since
Jordan had been with a woman, and he could not remember having ever
turned a partner on such a degree as Melissa. And he knew enough to be
confident that her reaction was real. She wasn't high, & wasn't simply
faking it in hopes of a bigger tip. His erection returning with uncommon
speed in response to his partner's excitement, he felt himself slip into
her velvet folds, heard the throaty moan of pleasure escape her lips, as
the door opened. They did not make it to the bed for the first exchange;
he barely got the door closed. Having turned, keeping her back to the
door, Jordan allowed the smaller woman to push him down onto his back,
and then watched as she caught him in a tiny hand, guiding his
resurrected cock to her tight seam and settling onto him with obvious
relish. He opted not to touch her otherwise, simply watching in
half-light of the hall. She was beautiful, eyes closed, head dipping
back every few strokes, lips parting slightly. Within a minute she was
rutting against him like a wild woman, moans & cries escaping her throat
with increasing volume and frequency. One hand rose to tangle her hair
as the other's manicured nails pinched & pulled at her pierced nipple.
She bit her lower lip, giving a longer groan, & then he gasped as she
thrust fully against him, holding herself in place as her entire body
spasmed. He felt her pubic muscles contracting rhythmically,
spastically, and the milking sensation proved enough to coax his second
climax along, as well. Gritting his teeth, Jordan tried to hold off, big
hands slipping beneath Melissa's buttocks, intent on lifting her free of
his explosion. She whimpered, leaning forward but clamping her knees
almost painfully against his thighs. "But there's no..." 

"Mmmmm-hmmm," she husked, lips against his ear, "I know... I want you...
to cum... inside of me... mark me... make me yours." Shocked at such an
image, Jordan lost control, flooding her sex with his second load. It
wasn't the end, though. After they showered, she put on some music and
they danced, naked, losing themselves in the moment. And when his
erection had returned, he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the
bed, and making love to her the way he had long before, with his wife.
Neither considered the change in the way they were approaching pleasure.
And while it was yet again different from the spent passion of the hour
before, it was at least as fulfilling. He marveled at the tone of her
body; the way she responded to each thrust and move. She spurred him on
when he needed to move faster, welcomed the harder thrusts as his climax
approached. He felt her shudder in her own release several times, never
pausing in sharing herself with him; and apparently never too spent to
go on. Even when they had finished, she absently fingered her sex as she
lay close to him, their laboured breathing easing. "You can't stay?" she
brought a hand up to tease the sparse, tightly curled hair on his chest.
"I can... I just have to be careful." 

"I don't understand." And he did not. How could she stay out? "If you'll
wait, I'll come back. But I have to leave... have to get my
things.""Those aren't your things?" Stranger and stranger, but at the
same time, he felt that tingle. Not sexual arousal, but intuition... he
was close to something important. There was something close to a giggle
before she answered. "No. Though you may be disappointed with the 'real'
me." Jordan wound her close in his arms. "That's not possible. The only
disappointment I feel is the thought of having to share you with
anyone." He blinked. Where had that come from? Melissa did not react,
and he guessed she had chosen to ignore it as typical John bluster. 

"What can I do?" "Well... You could walk me to the lobby. I have to
walk... I have to go back to leave these clothes and get my things. Then
I have to find someplace safe to leave my car." "The garage here is
monitored..." "No," she smiled, touching his arm, "I mean someplace
my... my manager won't see me. I could get in trouble." And not from
your husband? Jordan wondered to himself. "Would it be better to go
someplace else?" "You'd do that?" He laughed. "To spend more time with
you? I'm already trying to decide how to win you away from your...
manager." There was a strange light in her eyes as she looked up at him,
but suddenly it changed, the fear he had seen earlier returning. 

"You're too good," she whispered, pushing up suddenly and groping for
her clothes with one hand as she leaned over the edge of the bed,
shielding her breasts with the other arm. She tottered, and Jordan
almost reached to help her, but sensed the last thing she could stand at
that moment was his touch. The woman was a study in contradictions. "Oh
God," she seemed on the verge of tears, "I'd told myself I wouldn't let
it happen again... I wouldn't do anything to make it worse..." As Jordan
watched with growing alarm, tears began to run down her pretty face,
streaking the already sex-smeared make-up grotesquely. "I don't"... 

"Please don't tell Tom I did anything wrong... I didn't try to get
around him... I'll do anything," her face paled despite the make-up as
she rocked backward, both arms hugging her chest, "Oh God, I'm making it
worse..." She stumbled from the bed and into the bathroom. He heard her
gag, heard the toilet flush, and then the shower went on again. He
waited for a minute before padding to the open bathroom door. She had
the curtain closed, but he saw she was curled in a ball at one end of
the tub. "Melissa?" he paused, unsure what to say, "What did I do? What
did you do?... I don't understand." He opened the curtain, repeating the
question as he bent to lift her out of the tub. She shivered violently,
her pale wet skin feeling hot against his. At that moment, though, the
last thing on his mind was sex; something was terribly wrong. "Missy,"
he soothed, "It's OK... I'm not telling anyone anything... Why would I
jeopardize having more time with you?" She shook her head, but did not
try to escape his embrace. Still murmuring supportively, Jordan carried
her back into the bedroom. Keeping her cradled on his naked lap, holding
her against his chest with 1 arm, he reached for the room phone, then
thought better of it, selecting instead his cell phone. Trapping the
tiny unit against his ear, he paged through the tattered yellow pages,
selecting the Doubletree far south of the city. Rocking her slightly, he
made the reservation for two, making up a name on the spot: Hinder.
After hanging up, he stood, carrying the tiny blonde back into the
bathroom to retrieve a towel. Melissa made no move to escape as he
gently toweled her dry. But she did not speak, either. Wordlessly she
dressed, seeming unable to look at Jordan as she did so. She picked up
her clutch purse where it lay by the door and reached for the knob
without looking back, but Jordan closed the distance between them,
laying a big palm flat against the thin wood of the door, holding it
closed. "Melissa? We have to talk about this." She trembled visibly,
then, but nodded. Jordan hated the total defeat that her posture
displayed. What could so terrify such a beautiful woman? He kept in
physical contact with her as she returned to the bed. Her eyes strayed
to the clock. "I have to get going," there was renewed fear-something
different now-in her eyes. 

"OK... You already told me that. You have to get your things, whatever
that means. And you don't want your pimp," he did not try to ease the
impact of the word, "To know we're going to be together." She nodded.
"Then you'll meet me at the Doubletree?" A long pause, then a tiny nod.
"I won't don anything to hurt you, Melissa." Only a slightly better nod
in response. "I don't know how I can prove it to you. But I'll find a
way. I want to know what it is that scares you so," he let her feel his
muscles bunch, "I hate that anyone or anything could do that to you... I
know I couldn't. So please?... I hope you'll come stay with me tonight."
No response, but long experience studying people told Jordan Franks
pushing any harder would only scare her off. Instead, he walked with her
to the elevator, agonizing over the strained atmosphere in the same
elevator in which she'd been unable to wait to have him a couple hours
before. He wanted to hold her hand; to offer her what reassurance he
could. But he stopped dutifully when she did at the hotel's automated
revolving door. She licked her lips, glancing around nervously. "I hope
you had a good time, sir." The saccharine smile and tone of a whore
almost made him wince. He nodded. "You were good as gold, sugar," he
managed, in case there were eyes on them, "I'm still not sure I've had
enough of you. I may have to find ol' Michael and get you back again
sometime soon." "Whatever you want, sir. Good night." She turned,
exiting through the door and turning right, toward the apartment complex
next door. Of course, he knew roughly where she was headed, but the
night had left him with far more questions than answers. And a new
urgency to resolve the questions he had. 

Part XX 

While Tom had explained to Michael that he never rented an apartment for
his use in a building where he had arranged a suite for the women to get
ready and clean up, Michael had opted to rent 1 of the tiny studio
apartments in the downtown tenement. His home was nearby, but for his
purposes the single room apartment was perfect. Kathy had finished more
quickly than even she had expected. The john was a quick cummer, so even
with the delay to get him off again-insurance that he wouldn't get
pissed & complain-she'd been back to the apartment building about the
time Melissa was virtually raping Jordan in the elevator of the building
next door. 

The statuesque brunette found her entire focus was on being with Michael
again. Which seemed perfectly normal, & given the way he could touch
her-the way she responded-she wouldn't have changed a thing. The fact
that she was already worried about what would happen when their 'debt'
was paid-how could she keep Melissa working so she could see Michael-did
not seem strange, except that she knew better than to discuss it with
her friend. But such concerns had evaporated as she reached the
apartment. Her heart fell when he wasn't waiting for her in the lobby, &
when he wasn't in the apartment, she found herself despairing; she had
to feel his wonderful cock inside of her... couldn't go back to her slug
of a husband. Whereas she'd once been glad he seemed to have embraced an
asexual lifestyle, she'd realized she'd ignored her own needs, as well.
& while the sex she endured as Tom's slave wasn't fulfilling... She
hurried into the shower so the other women in the apartment wouldn't see
her masturbating. 

Barely sated when she stepped out of the bathroom, towel around her sill
wet torso, Kathy stopped in her tracks, barely hiding the rush of need
she felt on seeing Michael in the apartment. He was talking to 2 of the
other women, arms around their naked torsos with an intimacy Kathy ached
to enjoy. She wasn't jealous; he was simply doing his job, making sure
those women knew their place. A bit of the carrot now & then, rather
than the stick. She hurried to the booth, applying a light touch of
make-up & selecting a clean 'party gown' before approaching him. His
eyes twinkled when he saw her. 

"You look like you need something." She wondered how he could tell so
easily. He smiled at her, "Well I think we'd better take care of that,
then. Shall we do it right here?" He chuckled as the war of her need &
her modesty colored her face. Before she could move against him,
welcoming his advance right there in front of the other women, he shook
his head, "Let's do this right. Leave that gown in your bin with your
bag. We'll go out with you in your regular clothes." Kathy nodded,
delighted he wanted to be with her as herself, not as his prostitute.
The prospect of changing in front of him had her hopelessly aroused; so
much so she nearly rethought waiting until they were alone to ask him to
take her. But she held her desire at bay, feeling it grow, & quickly
changed clothes. He put an arm around her waist, leading her out of the
apartment without a backwards glance at the other women returning from
their assignments & preparing to leave. In the elevator, he turned her
toward him, kissing her gently, touching her in just the right places;
Kathy had nearly melted into him before they reached the ground floor.
She leaned against him, delighting in his strength, as he led her to her
car. He drove, of course, Kathy giving the risk something might be left
in her car no thought. It was all she could do not to try to suck his
cock as he drove south and west, through the Plaza. They stopped at a
Mexican place she'd been to with her husband once or twice. They were
much closer to her home than Melissa would have thought safe, but Kathy
never considered the risk. She barely noticed the food, her body
vibrating with excitement as they sat in a secluded booth. When he
whispered that she should take off her panties, there was no hesitation,
& after he'd deftly released her bra through her blouse, it followed a
moment later. The sheen of wetness that glowed on the plastic seat when
she slid out to leave was ample proof of her arousal. By the time they'd
reached a nearby park, there was a dark wet spot in the passenger seat,
as well. 

Michael turned the lights off as he made the last turn, coasting a
hundred feet along the curb by Mission park. He looked at his woman, for
her behaviour that night had been ample proof she was, & smiled to
himself. If she didn't balk at this, he was confident she'd do whatever
he said. Reaching up to turn off the dome light, he murmured, "Let's go
for a swing, shall we?" Kathy didn't bother to answer; she merely opened
the door, prancing down to where the row of chain swings was partly
visible in the moonlight. By the time Michael was sure no one was paying
them any mind & had joined her, the brunette was settled in the nearest
seat. She watched him expectantly. Michael found he relished the power
he held over her. He fingered the trans-dermal patch with another dose
of the drug combination... it looked like she was already fully in his
thrall. Time for the test. He sat in the middle swing, letting his
weight set it in motion. 

"I hope this isn't all you had planned," Kathy's voice had an
unmistakable husk to it. 

"You don't want to save it for your hubby?" Michael had checked 'his'
new girls out. The files Tom kept on each woman (password protected to
delete if tampered with) were amazing & Michael had already decided that
would remain in place with his new stable. It was more than possible the
brunette fawning over him had been so easily snared because her loveless
marriage left her looking for something more. Then again, he liked to
think it was just that she really got off having him use her. & even if
it hadn't been true, Michael smiled at the thought, it was now. Kathy
had snorted in response to his question. "Then were you saving something
for me?" 

"I'll show you if you want," she giggled. 

"I got a good report tonight," Michael wanted to reinforce the
relationship between her performance as his whore & his willingness to
take her. He saw her nodding in the darkness. "I know that John wasn't
the best looking guy you've ever had, but it's important they all feel
like they're the best you've ever had. Then you get the best, you know?"
Another nod, & a shift in the swing. He could smell her sex, even
outside with a breeze blowing. "Did you think about me when you were
doing it?" Another nod. "Good. That'll help you, won't it." She shifted
again. Michael guessed she was diddling herself. "Well I haven't had
anything all day, so I think I need your help." She got up, started for
the car, then stopped when he didn't move. 

"You mean here?" there was a tremor in her voice, but he wasn't sure
whether out of fear or arousal. 

"We're here, aren't we?" 

"In a park." 

"Yeah," he grinned, "I've always dreamed of doin' it in public like
this. Gets me hot just thinking about it." A lie, but she didn't need to
know the truth. This was the final test before he began to try the
formulation with some of the other girls. The quality sluts he wouldn't
want to lose. His new theory was that dosing a skirt & having her ball 2
or 3 different guys would hook her on the pleasure of sex with anyone.
But that would wait. Still swinging slowly, he said, "I thought you were
going to show me?" Kathy didn't wait a beat. She dropped to her knees in
the gravel & dirt beneath the swing, fingers scrabbling to his pants,
working the button fly. She hauled him out, eagerly burying her face in
his crotch, sucking at him hungrily. He smiled, setting a hand on the
back of her head; a mark of control. He let her bob away for a moment,
getting him completely hard. It wasn't really true that he'd been
waiting for her; 1 of the redheads had caught his eye when she got back,
& he'd sent her packing with a load of his seed, so he really didn't
need a 'warm up' to be ready for a long hump. But she was a pretty good
cocksucker for a Midwest housewife. He enjoyed it for another moment,
then caught her head in both hands. 

"Didn't you wonder why I wanted you bare beneath that skirt?" Needing no
other encouragement, the staid legal secretary threw herself at him,
wrapping long legs around the cold chain & humping her running cunt
against his cock. He slipped in fully, smiling in delight at the
sensation & at the woman's devotion. Even before he began to thrust into
her, Kathy was quaking, cumming like he was sure she hadn't since they'd
last fucked. He set the swing into a larger arc, letting gravity shift
their bodies. When she began to rut against him again, her caught a
nipple through the fabric of her blouse with his fingers, pinching
firmly as he found her mouth, kissing her passionately-possessively. Her
body undulated against his pelvic muscles spasming as she came again. He
paused when she'd quieted, smiling at the way she was using her body,
trying to encourage his invasive thrusts. Catching her waist, he lifted
her free of his cock, reveling in the whimper it elicited. 

"Oh, you're not done?" She shook her head, tilting her pelvis to feel
him shifting against her sex. He stood, lifting her in his wake. "Tell
you what. Turn around & lay down in the swing here..." he guided her to
the rubber seat. "That's it... now spread those legs... lets see if you
like swinging..." He pushed her away, using her inner thighs for grip,
his thumbs teasing her open, drooling slit. She groaned each time he
pushed her that way, hands wrapped tightly around the chains, holding
her head & chest up away from the ground. After a few such strokes, each
time spreading her legs wider, Michael gauged the height of her pussy as
it etched a parabolic arc back & forth. On her next return swing, he
stepped forward, bending his knees slightly, directing his erection with
1 hand held at the base. He smiled as her sex engulfed his tip, momentum
impaling her fully on his member. The breath caught in Kathy's throat.
At the same moment, he pushed on her taut buttocks, & then she was
swinging away again. There was an audible 'slurp' as his cock left her
clutching hole. Her repeated that. & again. Each time magnifying Kathy's
response. On the 4th downstroke, as she took him inside again, a moan of
delight escaped her throat. Michael felt her muscles jerking-she was
cumming again. He pushed here away, redirecting on the return stroke, so
that his cockhead met not her clenching pussy, but the pucker of her
asshole. Kathy's body shuddered & Michael rocked back at the greater
friction, slowing her completely. But half of his shaft was already
inside of her. He held her hips, her body suspended by the swing, & she
gasped & moaned, unable to get the breath or control to scream at the
pain of his taking her ass so brutally. Michael reached down, sliding a
thumb into her open sex, & pinching the leading edge, including her
clit, between the thumb & his index finger. Kathy's spasms redoubled, &
then a scream escaped her mouth. A long, undulating caterwaul, sounding
for all the world like a cat getting it from an old Tom. But it was
enough to attract attention. Michael pulled out, smiling when she
reacted by pouting her ass at him, welcoming his cock wherever he wanted
to put it. He caught her arm, spinning her gracefully out of the swing &
carrying her back to his car. He hadn't bothered to close his pants...
he was curious how fully his slave had given herself to his pleasure.
Closing the driver's door, he started the car, driving a bit before
turning on the headlamps. Kathy was openly frigging herself, eyes
half-closed as she relived what they'd done. 

"You liked that, then?" She nodded, clearly wishing they could do more.
"Well we'll have to find someplace new for next time... maybe the hill
overlooking the ballpark." Her body convulsed at that. "Too bad we
couldn't finish back there," he teased, "though it looks like you're
getting off fine... I think I'm gonna need a bit more of that wonderful
mouth of yours." She never hesitated, leaning over & sucking the cock
that had just plumbed her ass into her mouth. The power he felt alone
was enough to get him off, though her talented mouth hurried him along.
By the time they'd reached the street where he'd left his car, she'd
swallowed his load, clearly remaining ready for more. "You're
insatiable," he complimented his willing slave, "I'll have to service
you better the next time you work." She nodded, eyes glazed, & he was
satisfied. She was his to do with whatever he wanted. She tottered
around the car, her crotch obviously aching from the rough sex, but as
obviously still hot, & he smiled, giving her a tender kiss before
sending her back to her cuckold hubby. The dose worked as well as Tom's
'catcher' formula. With the two together, he could turn the operation
into a franchise. The only question was whether or not to include Tom...

Melissa could not stop shaking as she entered the dim, dingy apartment
building. The wonderful sex she had shared with Jordan-offering herself
fully to him-seemed a cruel joke; she was sure Tom or Michael would be
gloating at her when she walked in, ready to tack on additional months
she'd be their slave, working on her back. And home would no longer be
an escape, since Jeff had decided he liked being with whores. She
shuddered, the momentary thought that she was free-her husband could not
be too unhappy at what she'd done when he was with women just like
her-giving way to the reality that her husband would leave her, she'd be
fired, she'd lose her kids and any chance at a normal life... getting
caught would mean the only thing left to her would be whoring. Yet she
had stupidly risked the trust Michael and Tom had shown in her with a
man she'd only just met. She was relieved to see only a couple women in
the apartment when she got in. The shower was clear, so she stepped
beneath the cold water-there never seemed to be hot water, anymore-and
toweled off quickly, the need for a hit of the bottle in her purse
growing each second. Collapsing into an empty chair totally naked, she
opened her purse, taking a three swallow hit, and then another, not
caring what the other women in the room thought. The comfortable glow
took the edges off, and then she began to get dressed, trying not to
think about what she might be headed home to. 

If she was headed home. She looked around. Kathy's 'locker' was still
full, but there was no sign of her friend. So Kathy wouldn't know that
she hadn't gone home... the trip to her house was the same as to the
Doubletree at least so far as leaving downtown... Melissa took another
long pull at the bottle, weighing her options. If Jordan was another
test by Michael and Tom, she had already failed. If he wasn't... she
longed for him to be who he said he was... a lonely widower without a
hang up about being with a woman who'd been a whore. But that seemed an
impossible dream. Without realizing it she'd emptied the bottle, but
despite that she could not seem to get beyond the point where things
were just a little 'fuzzy.' Wherever she went, she decided, she would
have to stop somewhere to get more. But if there was one good thing
about all the time she was spending downtown, it was the ready
availability of liquor stores. Unwilling to wait for Kathy to get back,
Melissa dressed hastily, not caring that she misaligned buttons, and
staggered down the back steps to the parking lot. She weaved south and
east, stopping to drop $50 on several bottles of cheaper gin than she
had been drinking, and lamenting that she could not afford the Chivas
that she had started binging with. 

One of the new bottles was nearly half empty when she missed the turn
off of I-35. She drove another minute without realizing her error, by
which time the turn to I-69 was approaching. In a daze, she let the car
sweep to the right, continuing south, and exiting the highway only when
the tall crème colored side of the Doubletree Hotel was visible. She
parked badly, but managed not to hit anything, and staggered into the
lobby, unaware of the jaundiced eye the clerk gave her. He rolled his
eyes in the direction of the other clerk-'another drunk socialite.' At
least he did no look at her and think 'whore,' even when she giggled,
having to ask not after Mr. Franks, but Mr. Hinder. For his part, Jordan
had left payment 'for Mr. Hinder and Mrs. Hinder-Sureham' and had
accepted one key card. When Melissa did not arrive after thirty minutes,
he guessed his shot at breaking into Tom's operation was gone.
Thoroughly exhausted by the evening's activities, he had fallen asleep
in the room. Fortunately, he had left 1 key card and instructions it be
given to 'Mrs. Hinder-Sureham.' The clerk failed to get an answer in the
'Hinder' room and was ready to turn the souse away when he saw the
notation and the keycard. The woman fairly blushed when he handed the
card to her along with directions to get her to her room. But she
tottered of determinedly and Jordan was roused to the weak, irregular
knock of someone at the door. His Federal Issued Glock 10mm was in his
hand as he approached the door. Peering through the peephole, he was
delighted, then concerned to find Melissa sprawled on the thin
industrial carpet. Opening the door, he checked the hall, waving away a
guest who had started over to help her. The man checked his forward
motion, blinking at Jordan's sudden appearance, then returned to his
room as Jordan lifted Melissa to her feet and guided her into the room.
She staggered forward but past the bed, dropping unceremoniously to her
knees in front of the servi-bar. 

"Melissa, are you..." 

"Shhh," she slurred, nearly falling over as she turned to look at him,
"Gimme a minute." She managed to open the bar, grabbing out a handful of
the tiny liquor bottles without bothering to choose, then shut it again.
She half crawled, half climbed into the chair beside a chipped Formica
table. Still not looking at him, she began to fuss with a bottle. Jordan
stepped forward, unsure whether he meant to help her or take it away.
Melissa clearly suspected the latter, refusing to relinquish her grip.
Shaking his head, Jordan picked up a 2nd bottle, opening it and setting
it down beside her. Melissa's bleary smile of thanks was short-lived,
however, as he collected the other bottles and returned them to the
servi-bar. 

"Am I that bad?" Melissa giggled for a moment, head lolling back
alarmingly. He wondered how she had managed to get to the hotel safely.
If she had, in fact. 

"I'm that bad," she slurred. "My life is shit. My husband is fucking
other women... whores. And I guess that's all I'm ever gonna be before
long." Some of the questions from that evening fell into place. 

"You saw your husband with another woman tonight." 

"Another whore," she was speaking loudly, and Jordan hoped the rooms
next door were vacant. 

"But..." no gentle way to say it, "You sleep with other men?" 

"You were the first," she waved the half-empty bottle at him unsteadily,
"I didn't want to do it until I saw him with her. Tonight." Jordan
considered what she'd said. He knew there were few women who wanted to
hook. And precious few that enjoyed it, accepting for the occasional
Penthouse Pet or would be starlet in Hollywood. But how seriously did
Melissa not want to be hooking... and why was she. "... couldn't think
straight. I just knew I wanted to do the same thing he was doing. So for
once I wanted to be having sex, tonight." Maybe she was more sober than
he guessed, because she blinked as if surprised at what she had just
told him, "And at least it was with you. So thank you... if you're not
about to screw me too." 

"What do you mean?" Jordan crossed the room to start a pot of coffee.
Strong coffee. "I mean... I thought you wanted... if you wanted to... be
with me tonight... but not if..." He shook his head; this was the last
conversation he should be having. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
Melissa looked at him, the distrust obvious. She emptied the 2nd bottle,
glancing at the servi-bar again. "You can't want to be giving yourself
to strange men and drinking yourself into a stupor." The look became an
angry glare and Jordan held up both hands, "If I'm out of line ok. But
tell me why you do this?" Her shoulders slumped, one strap of her
sleeveless blouse dropping. Despite her distress, Jordan felt a stirring
of arousal. She looked beautiful, even sprawled half-smashed in a cheap
hotel chair. 

"OK..." she'd obviously made her decision, "But I need to know this
first. Do you know Tom? Do you work for him? Is this just another trap
so I'm working forever?" Jordan shook his head in puzzlement, glad she
was too drunk to pay very close attention. 

"Mike hooked me up with you," he began, forcing down the excitement at
being so close to learning more about Tom. "And I don't know what you
mean by trap." 

She sighed, stared longingly at the pair of empty bottles, then gave him
a crooked smile. 

"The coffee's probably a good idea. Anytime you decide I've told you
enough and you want me to leave, just say so." Jordan sat on the bed,
resisting the urge to invite her closer. What he needed at the moment
was information. And the petite blonde schoolteacher he had taken for a
closet nymphomaniac provided it in spades. 

Sitting up slightly in the chair, Melissa caught the hem of her blouse,
lifting it over her head to expose her bare breasts. "Left the bra in my
purse," she smiled at so scandalous a thought, "A year ago I'd have died
just imagining walking around in public like that." The skirt followed,
revealing she'd forgone her panties, as well. "But now I can sit like
this in front of a man I barely know. Quite a change, isn't it?" Jordan
just nodded, aware of his erection but denying that need for the moment.
He reached across the bed, ostensibly to turn off the television which
was on low, but in fact starting the second tape recorder he'd hidden
there. A long reel recorder was already running, but he wasn't about to
lose this chance because of a technical glitch. 

"You asked about this the other night," she fingered the nipple piercing
absently, apparently unaware of the way her nipple rose in response,
"You didn't think I wanted it, did you?" Jordan was puzzled; it was
definitely not where he had expected her to begin. 

"Uhm... I just thought... I mean, it's sexy. And you have a ring in your
labia too. Not to mention the tattoo..." he held his breath, hoping not
to scare her. She nodded. 

"That's how this happened." He waited, but she didn't continue. 

"I'm not following." She smiled ruefully, "I didn't either, at first. I
have a girlfriend, Kathy. We used to go out once a week. See a movie,
attend an art exhibit or workshop. And we'd have dinner & drinks before
or after." Jordan simply nodded. "I woke up one morning after our 'night
out' and had this," another absent flip of the nipple ring, "and the
other ring," she spread her legs slightly, as if to offer proof. "And
while I was sitting there, confused about what had happened and worried
my husband would be pissed off, he poked his head into the bedroom &
laughed that we must've had 'quite a night.' I guess if he's been
banging whores all this time it mustn't have seemed so odd." She fumed
for a moment, "But it was worse than that. I got up to shower, & could
tell I'd been fucked. And I wasn't about to ask Jeff if we'd been
intimate. And of course, Kathy was in the same situation... though her
husband was less understanding about the whole thing." She absently spun
1 of the empty bottles on the table. "We found receipts. I think they
were meant to give us a glimpse of what had happened. We wondered around
the city, hearing stories about how we'd behaved like sluts with a guy
neither of us knew or remembered. So we played it down, staying close to
home for a few weeks. The 1st night we decided to really go out
again..." She pawed through her purse, finding a crumpled Kleenex.
Jordan didn't force the issue. "He used drugs of some sort... not enough
to knock us out, but enough we went along with him... did whatever he
wanted. He flew us to Vegas, & I don't know how many men fucked us on
the flight. & the greasy little man who'd put these in," she flicked at
the nipple ring, "Was there to add the fucking tattoos. I 'paid' him by
letting him fuck me, too." She sat there, arms crossed over her abdomen
as if in pain. 

"But your husbands?" Jordan wasn't sure if he believed what the woman
before him was saying. 

"We told them we'd won some prize at the bar. Tom has people who'd back
us up if they called. 

"What happened?" 

"We woke up in a plush suite, naked, with a videotape showing Tom
fucking us both. After which he calmly explained that we were 'his' and
until we'd done what he considered 'enough' to make up for all that he'd
'invested' in us we'd ball whoever he said, whenever he said to. If we
refused, copies of the tape would beat us back home." She held up the
empty bottle, shaking visibly, and considered the servi-bar but went on,
instead. "We had a weekend of 'lessons' in 'how to be a whore.' Then on
the flight back we were began to earn our keep, without the drugs that
had at least robbed us of awareness of what we were doing at the time.
Oh God," she held herself more tightly and rocked for several moments,
"I hadn't cheated on Jeff... hadn't been with another man," she
swallowed convulsively, and without thinking Jordan moved closer,
pulling her into his arms. She clung to him, body shaking as she cried
for long minutes. 

"You haven't told anyone?" 

"Who? I've been used by cops, lawyers, a judge. Hell, more politicians
are customers than I can remember. & even talking to the other girls..."
she wiped her eyes with the back of 1 hand, "If you try to actually talk
to anyone... share names, tell your story, look for support... he
catches you. & the punishment is more time on your back." Jordan
couldn't believe it. The man had the perfect set up... prostitutes who
wouldn't turn on him in order to protect themselves. That he really was
providing his customers with 'housewives' was a bitter irony. 

"Have you... has he used you for long?" She gave a bitter laugh. 

"Long enough I don't' even worry about fucking total strangers... or
sitting naked in their lap," she hugged him more tightly, "That wasn't
fair... & I honestly did enjoy being with you tonight... And it's not
like you can do anything... I should never have said anything," she
started to get up, then paused, "Though I really do want to be with
you... if you'd like that, still." Jordan was speechless for a moment.
Melissa misunderstood, "That's all right," she started to get up, "I'll
understand if you don't want me again... just please don't say a word to
Tom or Michael." 

"Wait," Jordan held her close, suddenly afraid to let her go out the
door. & not because she was a potential witness. "What will you do?" She
shrugged morosely. 

"What can I do? Even if Jeff leaves me, I have to protect my career...
my reputation." She laughed bitterly, "And I don't want you to get
hurt," she ran a finger over his chest, remembering earlier that
evening, "I know what they'll do to me... but they can't hurt me,
really... they want me making money for them. You..." she shivered, "I
don't know." Jordan relaxed, the first time he'd felt the tension ease
since beginning to understand Tom's operation and what he had done to an
innocent woman. 

"Don't worry," he pulled her close, tilting her head back so she was
looking at him, "There are things I haven't told you..." Melissa went
limp in his arms, & new sobs wracked her body. 

"Oh God... don't tell me you're with him... I was so sure... so sure." 

"Shhh," he rocked her in his arms, a hand resting unconsciously on her
breast, "That's not it," he soothed, "Not at all, baby." She quieted,
then looked up at him a moment later, curiosity in her eyes. "I... I
work for the government," he paused, but she did not seem to understand.
He remembered she'd mentioned lawyers. & cops. An anger built within
that he had not felt since his insistence that Tom was operating an
interstate prostitution ring that gave him influence over important
people. He'd had it proven, but all that mattered to him was the woman
in his arms. He paused, wondering how she would react to the truth. But
there wasn't really any choice. "Melissa... I'm with the FBI." She
stilled in his arms. "Melissa?" 

"But you... we..." he saw she wouldn't look at him. "So now it's the
government that's going to be fucking me." 

"No!" Jordan was surprised at the anger in his voice, "It wasn't like
that... I... I didn't expect I'd have any feelings for you..." 

"And you do?" he couldn't read her expression. Biting his lip, he
nodded. 

"But not at first... I was just a..." 

"I'm on suspension," he explained, "My boss said I'd become obsessed
with the idea of a prostitution ring operating throughout the United
States." 

"It does," she said quietly, "He's told me some of the place he may send
us for a 'job' once in a while." She shifted, "But I can't testify," he
felt her tensing again, "I'd lose everything." 

"We'll find a way. You won't have to do this again." She bit her lip,
hiding a playful smile. 

"What if I want to?" Jordan suppressed a groan as he felt her fingers
teasing his erection. 

"Wait a minute... I do want to... you know that. But we have to talk,
first." She sighed, almost pouting, & Jordan wondered whether she would
have been so unconsciously sexy if she hadn't become so comfortable with
sex. "I need some lists. Specific dates when he drugged you & when
you've... worked. Names of people he's had you 'entertain.' Names of the
other women..." She shook her head. 

"No names." 

"You won't give me their names?" 

"I don't know their names... first names or nicknames only." He nodded. 

"No problem. We'll just watch your little 'prep pad'." 

"You knew about that?" 

"Not for sure. Now I do." She nodded absently, her fingers still
stroking his erection. "I can try to shield you from this," he paused,
"But it comes down to punishing Tom and Mike or letting them continue to
use you... & I don't think they'll ever decide they're done with you if
you don't stand up to them." 

"But I'll lose everything if I say anything." Jordan shook his head. 

"No. You'll lose everything when the school board fires you for being a
lush. & your husband uses alcoholism as grounds for diminished alimony
in your divorce. & keeps you from your kids. All while you're still
humping for Mike & Tom." He caught her chin, "& it's not the government
you're fucking..." He bent down & kissed her gently, "I won't run out on
you for standing up & doing the right thing." Jordan was still
considering what he'd just said when the supple young beauty in his arms
uncoiled, pressing her naked body against him; pushing him back on the
bed. 

"Prove it," she murmured, one hand dropping between the to open his
pants. He smiled up at her. 

"You're sure this isn't the alcohol talking?" His voice trailed off in a
groan as she guided him into her molten seam. She set a steady rocking
motion, holding him deep inside of her, & dipped her head, letting her
hair fall in a curtain over their faces. He reached over blindly,
managing to find the 'stop' switch for the recorder. The other unit
would simply have to be spliced later. A moment later he'd surrendered
himself to the woman who'd given him more than just the break he needed
to get Tom the pimp. And as their bodies met in an easy rhythm, tempo
rising with their joined need, both were thinking the same thing:
strange that the man who'd so thoroughly messed up their lives could be
responsible for bringing them together. As her 1st climax peaked,
Melissa groaned, falling against Jordan's chest as she shuddered
uncontrollably. Catching her in 1 arm, he rolled, keeping them joined
without difficulty. As she quieted he began to thrust into her; long,
slow strokes. She mewled in delight, arching her back & meeting his
thrusts, legs scissoring behind his wais, spurring him on, fingernails
digging into his buttocks. Still wondering if she'd always thrown
herself so fully into lovemaking, he picked up the tempo, quickly
pushing them over the edge again. The mutual climax was not the end,
though, as each moved against the other, Jordan rolling onto his side to
allow a more leisurely coupling. They drifted to sleep, still entwined,
each more at peace than had been the case in months. 

Part XXI 

Melissa was late to work. & in the same clothes she'd worn the day
before. But she was sober for a change. Waking up in bed with a Fed can
do that. She was still trying to convince herself it wasn't a dream. And
that he could help her. Not that there weren't problems... her husband's
affair (who was she kidding... he'd been far too comfortable for that to
be a 1st time) still rocked her to the core. At least her sons were old
enough to understand they weren't the problem when the divorce came
down. She'd agonized about what to do, realizing after the last time she
& Jordan had made love that she cared less about what Jeff thought than
this new, strange man. A man willing to stand by her despite her past
and present. So the easy answer had been to confront Jeff: the reason
she hadn't come home was she'd seen he & his 'meeting' the night before.
She said as much to the oldest, who was puzzled but agreed to relay the
message, then showered in Jordan's rented room before putting on her
clothes again & driving to work. He made her promise not to say a word
to anyone while he tried to work things out. She pointed out that Tom or
Michael might expect her to 'work,' & he'd nodded, asking if she could
do that if she had to. & she'd been surprised to find she could; Jordan
knew she wasn't enjoying herself; it wasn't like when they were
together. Though both hoped he could figure things out before it
happened. 

She agonized about keeping the secret from Kathy, but the gushing
voicemail about 'how lucky they were' to have Michael taking over for
Tom was reason enough to keep silent. She called Jordan though, letting
him know her friend was under the impression Tom was turning things over
to the new pimp, not going for a joint venture. That would put a time
press on Agent Frank's plans. 

The events of the night before had left her little doubt she'd have to
leave her job; probably relocating in the process. So she was more
relaxed as she entered the school, letting the vice-principal's glare
glance off her back without comment; ignoring the seemingly endless
succession of classes peopled by arrogant, coddled, uninterested
monsters. The biddy's accusatory passes through the hall were pointless;
there was no alcohol anywhere near Melissa's room, though true to
Jordan's warning, she felt the need for a hit now & then. She added
'meetings' to her mental list of things to do, unable to make herself
write the more concise 'AA.' And the day passed without event. There was
no call from Tom or Michael. Or Kathy, which was interesting. She
thought about calling her friend at lunchtime, but opted instead to
wait; no chance of saying something wrong if they didn't speak. Instead
of drinking at lunch, she sat by herself in the teacher's lounge,
remembering the night before. She'd never known so gentle and caring but
strong & self-assured a lover, including the dozens... hundred's it
seemed... she'd experienced. 

Kathy fielded a worried call from Jeff that morning; no, she didn't know
where her friend was. Any worry about Melissa's whereabouts faded,
though, as Kathy found herself daydreaming that she'd run away from her
life with Fred & was living as Michael's whore. Aware that her friend
had been 'testing' a potential 'regular' she assumed they'd hit if off
as well, & that her friend had simply decided to stay out all night. The
thought of leaving a husband suddenly easy for her to consider making it
as easy to project onto others. After all, Melissa might pretend her
marriage was perfect, but Kathy knew better; personal experience,
rebuffing a drunken husband at a 4th of July picnic the year before. For
some reason, she'd never been able to tell her friend, whether out of
fear of Mel's reaction or secret delight that she had proof her friend's
life wasn't Mayberry perfect, after all. 

She ignored the suggestive glances & gestures she'd been receptive to
the last weeks. Other men paled in comparison to Michael. So she was
disappointed that there was not a call that day. Fantasized about simply
visiting the downtown apartment & volunteering to do some work. Fred
would never notice. She skipped lunch, working through in order to get
out early & swing by the school. Regardless of her fantasy world, she
needed to make sure Melissa was holding up. If her friend broke down,
confessing their dirty secret life to Jeff, any chance at having Michael
again would be shot. 

Jordan Franks spent the day carefully testing the waters for support.
The agent he knew at the St. Louis office listened to his edited report
of finding 'The Ring' as Franks had dubbed it, then suggested they send
an asset (read not suspended agent) in as a decoy. Jordan argued that
the MO would leave their undoubtedly female agent with new body jewelry,
a concern for possible VD from an unknown partner, & no other
information. That is, assuming they could get the principals (Mike &
Tom) to 'recruit' the agent. And without any evidence. Laid out that
bluntly, the prospect of a PR nightmare very real for the forward
searching supervising agent, the suggestion died in its infancy. The man
was hesitant, though, to act on the 'statement of a whore.' Jordan was
glad the man couldn't see his expression over the phone at hearing
Melissa so described. Instead of shouting, Agent Franks calmly
reiterated the facts: the prostitutes in question were being blackmailed
to perform sex acts. He went so far as to argue they were serial rape
victims, since they were not realizing any profit from their actions, &
were acting under duress from the men he wanted arrested. 

The skepticism remained: Franks had found a local 'coerced prostitution
ring' (a euphemism coined on the spot, Jordan was sure) which was not
Federal jurisdiction. Worse, they offered to 'look into it.' Jordan knew
that euphemism, too. That was what supervisors said when they wanted you
off the trail while they went in & did it their way, irregardless of
what they'd been told by experts looking from up close & personal. Not
wanting to risk alerting Tom or his new partner, & definitely not
wanting Washington to start wondering what he was up to, Franks stopped
arguing deciding he should have waited until he had hard evidence. Which
he would still get, though he would have to be more careful. The Bureau
would undoubtedly start poking around. It meant he had a time press the
likes of which he hadn't ever known. Jordan did not mention Melissa by
name to his contact, aware that leaks had burned him before, & could
truly cost him this time. He carefully gave misinformation about who
he'd been with, & when; the last thing he wanted was to let what he'd
told the 'good guys' burn both he & Melissa. 

The day passed without other incident. There was no call to either
woman. Melissa stopped at home long enough to pack some things, leaving
only a note that she 'might be back.' Which left her free to occupy
Jordan's room. He insisted, though he explained he would keep 'his' room
at the hotel where they'd met. By Friday, the lack of contact had
Melissa worried she was in trouble for leaving her husband, Kathy beside
herself with desire for her pimp, and Jordan convinced his quarry had
somehow figured things out & escaped. Again. But at lunch on Friday,
Kathy got a call. Michael calmly asked her to bring 'her friend' to help
him that night. He explained their job would involve no sex, but would
count as if it had been a 'weekend engagement.' Kathy would've accepted
if he'd said she would double her debt. & Melissa relayed what sketchy
information she was given to Jordan, who decided he would shadow the
trio for any number of reasons. 

True to his gut worry, the night unfolded as Jordan had warned his
former Quantico classmate. He had to give the team credit, since they
managed to hook Michael. The model-pretty blonde & her husband having a
row at their table, ending with her retreat to the bar & his storming
out. Jordan watched Michael eye that woman, a couple obviously out for a
night away from their men, & another single lady who was as shy as
anyone Jordan had ever seen in such a 'meet market.' After a whisper & a
nudge, Kathy got up & approached the 'abandoned' woman. They talked for
awhile, then moved to the table with Melissa. Michael had vacated, & the
look of horror Jordan saw in Melissa's eyes was proof enough for him
what lay in store. The ladies sat & talked, Kathy & their new friend the
most animated, clearly swapping war stories about marriage. Melissa
spent most of her time looking around, & was soon ignored by the others.
After 11:30 the table was piling up with drinks, which is when Michael
reappeared. He wore a nametag Jordan couldn't read at his distance from
their table & looking at them only indirectly. Michael quickly cleaned
up, asking if 'the ladies' wanted anything else. Kathy asked about their
special, & 'waiter' Michael enthused about some concoction, that all 3
women agreed to try. He hustled away, not even bothering to hide his
assumed persona from the bartenders, who was either in on it or was too
harried to wonder about new help. Watching Michael enter the order into
the standard restaurant computer, Jordan made a note to check
fingerprints on the machine. A boisterous couple sat down, obscuring his
view of the table, & he went to the men's room, where there was a short
line for the 'two holer' arrangement. To his shock, the table where Mel
& the others had been was empty, 3 empty margarita stemware glasses & a
waiter's tray all that remained. Snatching up the tray, Jordan searched
for the 'husband' or the helpless agent's in house backup. They'd become
lackadaisical, apparently not twigging to Michael's presence as a guest
first, & then a waiter. He cursed, throwing caution to the wind &
running out of the club, throwing the tray to the agents who were
finally rushing down to find their fellow. 

The agent's recovery was made more difficult because they were not truly
locals as had been suggested, so the agents did not think until after
sun up the next morning to check on the 'safe house' that had been
cooped for use as a couple's home. Thanks to credible work by the papers
division, the less than day old driver's license had provided Teri
Fawn's 'address' to her kidnapper & would be pimp. She woke with a
post-barbiturate hangover, the tell-tale body jewelry Jordan's lady had
awakened to months before, & the vague aches of a woman thoroughly
fucked. Tests on the horrified agent agreed with her woman's intuition,
but also with Jordan's prediction: no evidence. Until she was helpless
in his control for a longer period of time, Michael, like Tom, relied on
condoms. Of course, the woman had no recollection of what had happened.
& would not be trapped into hooking as so many other women who'd fallen
into that trap. And the embarrassment of the Agency served to bump Tom's
Housewife Ring to top priority. Jordan was brought in at an upgraded
level to head the investigation, though only after a prolonged screaming
match during which the SAC in St. Louis and his cohort in Kansas City
attempted to shift blame to Jordan, insisting he had known more than he
let on & had 'endangered' their agent. Unwilling to be the scapegoat
when he finally had the entire Bureau backing him up, Jordan had calmly
reminded everyone of his reports, his requests, his update while off
duty, & his warning against using an agent provocateur. Unable to argue
about that, the newly minted task force had broken up, leaving Jordan a
conflicted trip to the Doubletree Hotel. While he barely knew the woman
who'd been completely caught in Michael's web, & while he knew her
experience paled in comparison to Melissa's, he could not avoid the
knowledge that the woman he loved had helped to kidnap & rape Ms. Fawn. 

Any concern she'd done it intentionally vanished as he keyed his way
into his adjoining room. Melissa's sobs were audible in the hall. When
she saw him, she asked if they'd gotten Michael, & he shook his head,
taking the trembling blond in his arms & comforting the woman he'd been
imagining as the enemy. She described in halting detail how Michael had
insisted they were just 'out on the town' to 'drum up new business.' &
he had shown 'his women' off to some friends, though their discussions
had been low enough she hadn't heard any specifics. What had horrified
Melissa was her friend's eagerness to help in ensnaring another innocent
woman. She'd tried to decide how it would happen, remembering she &
Kathy had wound up at a different bar than they'd initially visited.
Though likely true for Teri, as well, Michael had simply used Mel &
Kathy to ease his target's suspicions. He'd drugged 1 drink, making sure
it was given to his prey. By the time Melissa was sure he was doing more
than sizing her up, the tall FBI agent had finished enough of her drink
that she readily gulped the rest down in a toast with Kathy, & was
moments later exiting the bar hand in hand with Melissa's friend.
Michael had been there waiting to relieve agent Fawn of her keys, using
her car for the rest of the night's debauchery. Melissa had begged off,
ignoring Michael's anger at that, & had gone back inside to seek
Jordan's help, but had been frightened away by the frantic activity of
Jordan & Teri's handlers as they realized they'd lost her. 

Proud that she'd resisted to the degree she had, & relieved that she
hadn't become the willing whore her friend was, Jordan carried the
petite blonde to his bedroom, where they spent the night making love, in
part to forget the horrors of the past night. But it could not be
ignored. & Mel had already made up her mind. She showed him the copy of
her letter of resignation, already in the mail to the school board. &
she had filed for divorce, citing 'mutual indiscretions' and asking for
no support but equal visitation. When he asked why she'd done so, she
smiled bravely, whispering, 

"Because I'm going to testify." A momentary doubt threatened to swamp
her, though, & she murmured, "You'll still be here for me... won't you?"
His smile & embrace were his assurance, & were all she could ask for. 

Unfortunately, the sudden change in Melissa's situation, coupled with a
lack of a distraught woman following up the clues left in her purse were
enough to alert Michael to an adversary. And snatching up his notes and
prodigious quantities of the drugs, he stopped at the law office Monday
morning, catching Kathy as she walked into work. On seeing him, she
squealed, rushing to the car like a high school girl asked to speak to
the Varsity quarterback. When he offered to take her along, the
independent, outspoken wife of Fred Dwyer merely nodded, climbing into
the car & shucking her panties & bra as fast as her lover was taking
them out of town. Neither could be found for the warrants that had been
issued on Melissa Sureham's testimony. 

Tom, christened Dwayne Thomas, was not so lucky. His home was raided by
a combined group of the KCPD SWAT team augmented by members of the FBI
HRT. Two of the housewives he had ensnared were rescued & held for their
statements, & the mastermind behind a nine state white slavery ring was
caught. 

Livid at the suggestion his wife had been a prostitute, Fred Dwyer
divorced Kathy in absentia. Melissa's divorce was granted quietly, &
while her testimony was key, her name & image were diligently hidden
from the media, protecting her reputation in Arlington, where she moved
with the hero of the moment, Agent Jordan Franks. She and agent Fawn
became fast friends; the whispers of how close never as outrageous as
was the truth. Dozens of women came forward to add to Mel's testimony.
Others, identified by the new knowledge of the 'Jerry tattoo' or by
friends who'd also been trapped, gave information 'under duress.' Even
so, some remained unwilling or unable to take the stand. At the time the
trial began, more than 100 women had been identified who were abused by
Thomas & his colleagues & customers. And thousands hundreds of men were
cited with various charges ranging from solicitation to rape. Most of
those were plea-bargained into 'time served' convictions in exchange for
testimony & pertinent information regarding Dwayne Thomas' operation.
Overnight the availability of 'housewife hookers' dropped almost to
zero, & stories once circulated on the net as 'urban legends' now had
proof of such danger to every woman. 

For Melissa, the knowledge that her nightmare was at an end was
bittersweet. She'd found new, true love, a man who made her feel safe,
cared about her despite her past, & who at night made her glad for the
things she'd 'learned' to do as a whore to give pleasure. Because her
pleasure was always his first concern. & whereas she'd considered her
sex life with Jeff 'perfect,' reality cast a harsh light on that portion
of her past. If she went twelve hours without her new husband making
welcome advances, she knew it was 'her turn' to be the aggressor. Still,
she worried about the fate of her friend, & often wondered what had so
changed Kathy that she would flee with Michael. Certainly she'd been
changed as well, Melissa would admit. From her attitude toward men to
the way she used her sexuality & felt about herself. The Bureau had
offered her counseling, but after the 1st session she hadn't gone back;
the counselor, a reserved but perceptive woman with auburn hair,
admitted Mel was 'about as well adjusted as anyone I've met here.' She
simply dealt with the frequent interludes each day where the past came
rushing up, refusing to let it swallow up the present. Only at night,
safe in Jordan's arms, would she let her mind explore those dark places,
wondering 'what if.' 

The mobile home is cramped, but it's just the two of them. Shawn laughs
when the neighbors ask why they don't move the truck, but there's always
a reason for what he does. Tonight, he's got 2 jobs lined up & will need
her help at both. She's glad; the men in the park have been around
enough they're becoming brazen, as if they've 'earned' a freebie. Not
that they'd do anything, though; her man is big enough, & when necessary
mean enough, to whip any three of them. & he loves her, everyone can
see. But tonight will be a refreshing change. 

The first stop in the beater LTD is a school of all places. She sees the
door has been forced, but it doesn't look recent. He leads her
confidently through dark halls, turning once... twice. They step into
the small gym at the heart of the building. There are lights near the
stage, & a screen is up. Releasing her hand-the signal to stay there in
the darkness-Shawn moves forward. Holding out his arms, he welcomes his
guests, including several swarthy Middle Eastern men and a handful of
men nearly as dark as her man. They're well dressed, if you consider
robes on the largest man well dressed, & she can tell the robes weren't
cheap. Looking at she & her man, you'd never guess where they're living.
But it's temporary, she knows. 

Shawn launches into his proposal: providing a ready supply of women who
will do whatever these men want, despite the fact that they lead normal
lives as married housewives. The men are intrigued, she can tell. They
like the idea of cuckolding total strangers. Men are always like
that-always looking for the next conquest. 

One of the men asks a question, & Shawn shrugs, offering an explanation.
This doesn't matter to her, & beyond the occasional word, she doesn't
really hear them. She drifts off into her mind, imagining what she &
Shawn will do afterwards, until the lighting changes. He's begun what he
likes to call the 'documentary.' She's seen it; remembers with fondness
1 of the subjects. It doesn't matter that she's on the film; Shawn
doesn't care about it. Without seeing the screen, she knows what's
happening: Shawn has it spliced down to four or five minutes. The
footage she got from their homes-old videotapes-runs first, showing two
housewives at typical outings, doting on husbands & kids, & chatting
with neighbors. Cut to the women 1/2 naked in a tattoo parlor, calmly
letting a sweating, leering man pierce them & again. The thought brings
a pleasant tingle to her nipple. Cut to the women rutting & groaning in
the back of 1 of the woman's cars; something Shawn always points out to
the men. Cut to the group of men, calmly waiting to take their turn, as
the women unfailingly service them, putting on a show in the process.
There are several splices from that single trip, a distant memory to the
woman. Most familiar is the moment the same nervous appearing man
permanently marks each woman's pube with his tattoo needle before
'accepting payment' in a true 'skin trade.' The footage cuts to the
women 'primping' as Shawn puts it, others working on either side at the
same task. There're brief images of the women with different men; she'd
never considered most of the tricks would be recorded, but nothing was
wasted in the effort. There's a prolonged scene from the video that was
made... both women partially masked, allowing obvious strangers to do
whatever they want, & then begging the men for more. 

The lights go up. By the end, she's always excited. Not like when she
knows she'll be with Shawn... that will be later, & she smiles,
imagining she'll wake the neighbors in the trailer park again. There's
more interest in what he's suggested, now. He'll shrug occasionally,
calmly repeating the specifics aren't available except 'to investors.'
She can tell that several of this group are interested. It amazes her,
when she considers it, that the man who tricked her into such a life
never thought of it as completely as her man. Shawn does so much more
with it. But then, he has her help. When the questions slow, he holds up
a finger, calmly telling the group he wants to prove it to them. That's
her cue. The box of condoms held demurely in 1 hand, she saunters into
the light, angling toward the lunch table that's set up near the screen.
The men go quiet. They always do at this point. She looks at Shawn,
feeling the 1st pangs of her need to have him take her, but that can't
happen yet. When he motions he to the table she sits down at the end of
the cold Formica, then lays back, legs spread. Welcoming Shawn's future
partners. The 1st time he let all who'd attended his little sales job
have a turn. But by now... now he knew that enough would want to pay
that he could be selective. This was their 'incentive' to get on board
right then. 

It doesn't take long, really. Even though 8 of the 11 who were there
take their turn. The others are allowed to watch, & her obvious
passivity no matter what the men do to her convinces a 9th. That's the
benefit of 'the show,' Shawn always tells her. They leave with 'seed
money' in hand. More money than she'd ever seen at 1 time until Shawn
started this. It's their sixth town in as many months. Always big
cities. A couple weeks while Shawn sniffs out potential investors, gets
introduced, & 'networks.' It's not so different from the endless
'socials' she once braved as a housewife. Except the parties are in
clubs where sex is openly on everyone's mind, not hidden behind 'proper'
masks. Another day or 2 & she's sure they'll move on. Maybe next town
their 'nest egg' will be big enough Shawn will use it to cover their
'start up' expenses, rather than her body, but she doesn't mind. He
always takes care of her. The knowledge they're 1/2 way home for the
night sends a tremor of need through her body. & part of that excitement
is at the job that's still to come. 

Some of the investors are paying (& will continue to pay) for Shawn's
blueprint for keeping a stable under control. She doesn't understand all
of it. It involves patches & syringes, but of course Shawn never used
that on her. He only gives her the occasional injection of 'morning
after' medicine to be sure they don't wind up with a baby. He also
provides the pimps with the means he & his 'former partner' found &
'recruited' women to fill their stable. & for a fee he acts as a
'broker.' He supplies the pre-mixed drugs for both aspects of running
women, as well as negotiating 'trades' of women or their services among
the men who have signed on. None of it is done with real names. None of
it involves 'traceable monies.' This is strictly a cash business, &
whenever they get enough cash, Shawn takes a private cruiser south to
Grand Cayman. He took her once, & it was a week long sample of the
heaven they'll live. Some day. 

But for now, there's that final job. Shawn changed more than just their
names after they escaped. He realized they needed to 'diversify.' For
several weeks, there was no way he would risk 'recruiting' a new woman
to work with her; there were too many warnings on the news & in the
clubs. & he realized what his partner had never admitted: the 'start up'
is hard without a stable of women already working by choice. At 1st, the
'housewife hookier' is unique, since it's a slow process to pick which
women are susceptible to 'recruitment' & then to actually recruit them.
That he'd managed to shift to a totally 'volunteer' crew was tribute to
the patience & caution he'd exercised. Though he was as surely in prison
as if he'd simply been selling women on the street. Oh, the sentence was
less harsh than people had wanted, & he was doing the time with former
senators & businessmen-the benefit of 'free samples' to people with
power-but it was prison, just the same. If he'd been running whores
nationwide there wouldn't have been such an outcry, but husbands & wives
were outraged-and scared-at the thought they might have been snared in
Tom's little operation. 

So Shawn changed their focus. There's a reason some of the men aren't
from this country when he does his presentations. To men with enough
money, acquiring unique 'things' becomes important. So Shawn began
providing them with 'items' that would otherwise be unattainable.
There's risk in it, but he stays hidden most of the time, & who'd ever
suspect a woman. Besides, she changes her appearance for the work. Has
done it enough she completes the transformation in the car on the way;
an attractive but not outrageous 'party dress' with panties & a thin bra
(she hates them now); dark hued lipstick & eye shadow. Contacts that
change her eye color. The extensions that change her hair length to what
she'd worn as a wife will come out after the job; she wears her hair
boyishly short like Shawn likes. Add glasses and a small mole on 1
cheek, & she's not the woman she looks at in the mirror each morning. He
drops her off, then circles to the parking area to wait. She feels bad
that he never goes in, but it's true-there are cameras everywhere these
days. Without it being obvious, she turns her face away from the camera
at the door. & again inside the club. People wave at her in
recognition-she's a regular. She pauses in the dim path beside the bar,
watching. She's a regular but no one pays too close attention. To
anything. There are children out on the dance floor, & despite the
raging A/C the room feels warm. Lots of E in the house. That little
truth was what Shawn liked to use as proof that everyone breaks the
rules. & the 1st time he arranged this, when she felt bad, he reminded
her how much she prefers it this way than before. She knows better than
to argue with him-he's always right-but sometimes arguing is fun...
since then you get to make up... 

She shakes her head, spotting her new friend. The woman is waving &
smiling broadly. She shouts a name-not Celeste's real name, but that's
not important; she once wasn't Celeste-& urges her to the far end of the
bar with a hand. The other women aren't there tonight, or have already
found dance partners. That makes it easier. The redhead is shouting a
greeting in her ear; they're side by side but the place it packed & loud
& hearing's almost impossible. The women give each other that fake
embrace that's supposed to promote sisterhood. No, Cammie will be
joining the true sisterhood tonight. But it requires some work. She
insists on buying the drinks, the night's 'special' some overpriced
strawberry concoction. Checking that the bartender is being harassed by
another patron, & seeing that Cammie's eyes are on the dance floor, she
deftly opens the tiny envelope in her palm over the other woman's drink,
stirring the powder into the thankfully small glass before pocketing the
empty paper. Cammie takes the proffered drink & they toast, the sweet
liquid easy to drink quickly. Like Shawn says, order a 2nd, so the 1st
is finished faster & is more likely to go to the dishwasher. & to make
'being drunk' more believable. She raises her fingers & the bartender
nods, quickly providing them a 2nd round. Cammie laughs, but finishes
her drink with a toss of the head & moves to the 2nd. Now all Celeste
must do is wait. The pretty co-ed isn't married; she married young,
divorced, & has gone back to school. Just the type Shawn's friends are
looking for, wherever it is they fly them. The 1st time, after she saw
the fancy Leer lift into the night, she wished for a moment she was on
board, but then Shawn had put his arm around her, & she knew she was
where she belonged. 

Cammie blinks. She's swaying on the stool a bit. Celeste leans close,
smiling at her friend, & waving off a would be dance partner. As the
other woman's starts to blink more frequently, her eyes losing focus,
Celeste drops a $20 on the bar, waves thanks to the bartender, & leads
the other woman toward the dance floor. At least until they're out of
clear sight of the bar. There's no resistance as she leads Cammie toward
the side exit, where she knows Shawn will be waiting... 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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