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| Girls' Nightmare Out | Back to N | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
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Girls' Nightmare Out
Rogue Alan
11/0-9/02, revision 2/03
(tattoo/piercing; cheat; stranger; interracial; gang bang; exhibitionism; anal;
prostitution; bondage; lesbianism; mind control; rape)
Part 20
While Tom had explained to Michael that he never rented an apartment for his
personal use in a building where he'd arranged a place for the women to get
ready and cleaned up, Michael had opted to rent one of the tiny studio
apartments in the downtown tenement. His home was nearby, but for his purposes
the studio apartment, a mirror image of the girls' place a few floors below,
was perfect. That wasn't his intended destination for the night, however. He
checked on the various recorders that he'd set up, capturing the women as they
showered, primped, and dressed. The web images of the 'White Whore Housewife
Gang bangs' weren't the only side business that he'd arranged, with a little
creative masking of their faces, he ran a 'hidden camera' subscription service
that was turning a hefty profit, as well.
Kathy had finished more quickly than even she had expected. The John was a
quick cumer, so even with the delay to get him off again, insurance that he
wouldn't get pissed off and complain, she was 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, and given the way that he could touch her, the
way that she responded, and she wouldn't have wanted it to be any different.
The fact that she was already worried about what would happen when their 'debt'
was paid, how could she keep Melissa working, so that she could still see
Michael, didn't seem strange, except that she knew better than to discuss it
with her friend.
Such concerns had evaporated as she reached the apartment. Her heart fell,
when he wasn't waiting for her in the lobby, and again when he wasn't in the
apartment. She found herself ready to cry, she had to feel his wonderful cock
inside of her, and couldn't go back to her slug of a husband without it.
Whereas she'd once been glad that Fred seemed to have embraced an asexual
lifestyle, she now realized that she'd been ignoring her own needs as well.
And while the sex that she had endured as Tom's slave wasn't fulfilling... She
hurried into the shower, so that the other women in the apartment wouldn't see
that she'd been masturbating. Or that she continued to do so under the
pounding spray.
Barely sated when she stepped out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around
her sill wet torso, Kathy stopped dead in her tracks, not trying to hide the
rush of need that she felt upon seeing Michael in the apartment. He was talking
to two of the other women, his arms around their naked torsos, with an intimacy
that Kathy ached to be enjoying herself. She wasn't jealous, he was simply
doing his job, making sure that those women knew their place, a bit of the
carrot now and then, rather than the stick. She hurried to her booth, applying
a light touch of make-up, and selecting a clean 'party gown', before
approaching him. His eyes twinkled when he saw her.
"You look like you need something." he said.
She wondered how he could tell so easily.
He smiled at her and then added, "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, and her
modesty colored her face.
Before she could move against him, welcoming his advances, 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 real clothes."
Kathy nodded, delighted that he wanted to be with her as herself, and not as
his prostitute. The prospect of changing in front of the others didn't matter,
or that she was doing so in front of the other women, while visibly aroused.
She was so hot that she nearly rethought about waiting until they were alone
to ask him to take her. Somehow she managed to keep her desires at bay, feeling
it still growing, as she quickly changed her clothes. He put an arm around her
waist, leading her out of the apartment, without so much as a backwards glance
at the other women, who were returning from their assignments, or preparing to
leave for home.
In the elevator, he turned her towards 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 absolutely no thought. It was all that she could do not to
try and suck his cock, as he drove south and west, through the Plaza.
They stopped at a Mexican place that 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
to her that she should take off her panties, there wasn't even any hesitation,
and 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 that they'd
reached a nearby park, there was a dark wet spot on the passenger seat as well,
and the interior of the car was rich with the fragrance of her musk.
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 behavior
that night had been ample proof that's what she was, and smiled to himself. If
she didn't balk at this, he was confident that she'd do whatever he said.
Reaching up to turn off the dome light, his voice was a murmur. "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
that Michael was sure that no one was paying them any mind, and had joined her,
the brunette was settled into the nearest seat. She watched him expectantly.
He found that he relished the power that he held over her. He fingered the
trans-dermal patch with another dose of the drug combination, and 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 a gentle motion.
"I hope this isn't all that you had planned." Kathy's voice had an unmistakable
husk to it.
"You don't want to save it for your hubby?" Michael asked, as he had checked
'his' new girls out. The files that Tom kept on each woman, password protected
to delete, if it was tampered with, were amazing, and he had already decided
that careful thoroughness would remain in place with his stable. It was more
than possible that the brunette fawning over him, had been so easily snared
because her loveless marriage had left her looking for something more. Then
again, he liked to think that it was just that she really got off having him
using her. And even if it hadn't been true, he smiled to himself, as 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." he said, wanting to reinforce the relationship
between her performance as his whore, and 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 that they all feel like they're the best
you've ever had. Then you get the best, you know?" Another nod, and a shift
in the swing. He could smell her sex, even outside with a breeze blowing away
from her.
"Did you think about me when you were doing it?" he asked, and she gave
another nod.
"Good. That'll help you, won't it." She shifted again. He guessed that 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 it was out
of fear or arousal.
"We're here, aren't we?"
"In the park?"
"Yeah." he grinned, "I've always dreamed of doin' it in public like this. Gets
me hot just thinking about it." It was 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. He wanted
to test another theory too, that dosing a skirt and having her ball two or
three different guys, would hook her on the pleasure of sex with anyone. But
that would have to 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 and dirt
beneath the swing, her fingers scrabbling to his pants, working the buttoned
fly. She hauled him out, eagerly burying her face in his crotch, sucking on
him hungrily. He smiled, setting a hand on the back of her head, a mark of his
control over her.
He let her bob away for a moment, getting him completely hard. It wasn't
really true that he'd been waiting for her either, one of the redheads had
caught his eye when she got back, and 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 cock sucker, for a white, Midwest housewife. He
enjoyed it for another moment, and then caught her head in both hands.
"Didn't you wonder why I wanted you bare beneath that skirt?" he asked.
Needing no other encouragement, the staid legal secretary threw herself at him,
wrapping her long legs around the cold chains and humping her running cunt
against his cock. He slipped into her fully, smiling in delight at the
sensation, and at the woman's devotion. Even before he began to thrust into
her, Kathy was quaking, cuming like he was sure that 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, he caught a nipple through the fabric
of her blouse with his fingers, pinching it firmly, as he found her mouth,
kissing her passionately and possessively. Her body undulated against his, her
pelvic muscles spasming, as she came again. He paused when she'd quieted,
smiling at the way that 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 said plaintively, as she shook her head, tilting her
pelvis to feel him shifting against her sex.
He stood up, lifting her in his wake. "Tell you what. Turn around and lay on
your stomach in the swing right here." as he guided her to the rubber seat.
"That's it... Now spread those legs... Lets see how much you like swinging."
He pushed her away, using her inner thighs as his grip, his thumbs teasing her
open, drooling slit. She groaned each time he pushed her that way, his hands
wrapped tightly around the chains, holding her head 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 and forth. On her
next return swing, he stepped forward, bending his knees slightly, directing
his erection with one hand held at the base. He smiled as her sex engulfed his
tip, the momentum impaling her fully on his cock. The breath caught in Kathy's
throat. At the same moment, he pushed on her taut buttocks, and then she was
swinging away again.
There was an audible 'slurp', as his cock left her clutching hole. He repeated
the maneuver again and again. And each time it magnified Kathy's response. On
the fourth such downstroke, as she took him inside of her cunt again, a moan
of delight escaped her throat. Michael felt her muscles jerking, she was cuming
again. He pushed her away, redirecting on the return stroke, so that his cock
head met not her clenching pussy, but the pucker of her ass hole. Kathy's body
shuddered and 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 and his tool, as she gasped and moaned, unable
to catch her breath enough to scream from the pain of his taking her ass so
brutally. Or in pleasure at the way she was still cuming.
Michael reached down, sliding a thumb into her open sex, and pinching the
leading edge, including her clit, between his thumb and index finger. Kathy's
spasms redoubled, and then a scream did escape her gaping mouth. A long,
undulating caterwaul, sounding for all the world like a cat getting it from
an old Tom. But also enough to attract attention. Michael pulled out, smiling
when she reacted by pouting her ass at him, welcoming his cock into wherever
he wanted to put it.
He caught her arm, spinning her gracefully out of the swing, and carrying her
back to his car. He hadn't bothered to close his pants, and was curious at 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, her eyes were half-closed, as she relived what they'd
just done.
"You liked that then?" he asked, and she nodded, clearly wishing that 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 the thought of doing it
there. "Too bad we couldn't finish back there," he teased, "though it looks
like you're getting yourself off just fine. I think I'm gonna need a bit more
of that wonderful mouth of yours though."
She never hesitated, simply leaning over and sucking the cock that had just
plumbed her ass into her mouth eagerly. The power that he felt from that alone
was enough to get him off, though her talented mouth certainly 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 that you work."
She nodded, her eyes glazed, and he was satisfied. She was his to do with
however he wanted. She tottered around the car, her crotch obviously aching
from the rough sex, but just as obviously still hot, and he smiled, giving her
a tender kiss, before sending her back to her cuckold hubby.
The dose had 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 couldn't stop shaking as she entered the dim, dingy apartment building.
The wonderful sex that she'd shared with Jim, offering herself fully to him,
seemed like a cruel joke, she was sure that Tom or Michael would be gloating
at her when she walked in, ready to tack on several additional months to her
debt, that she'd have to serve as their slave, working on her back. And home...
that would never be an escape again, since Jeff had decided that he liked
being with whores.
She shuddered, the momentary thought that she was free, that her husband
couldn't 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,
and she'd lose her kids and any chance at a normal life. Getting caught would
mean the only thing left to her was whoring. Yet she'd stupidly risked the
trust Michael and Tom had shown in her, with a man whom she'd just met.
She was relieved to see only a couple women in the apartment when she got back.
The shower was clear, so she stepped beneath the cold water, there never
seemed to be enough hot water anymore, and toweled off quickly, the need for a
hit of the bottle in her purse growing with 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'd find at home.
If she went home. She looked around. Kathy's 'locker' looked empty, but there
was no sign of her friend. She guessed that she and Michael had gone out
somewhere, when she'd gotten back, puzzled that Kathy wouldn't leave her things
and clean up before going home. Then she considered that Kathy wouldn't know
she hadn't gone home. Melissa took another long pull at the bottle, weighing
her options. If Jim was another 'test', she'd 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 like an impossible dream. Without realizing it, she emptied
the bottle, but she couldn't seem to get beyond the point where things were
just a little fuzzy. Wherever she chose to go, she decided, she'd have to stop
to buy more. But if there was one good thing about all the time she was
spending downtown, it was the ready availability of liquor. Unwilling to wait
for Kathy to return, Melissa dressed hastily, not caring that she misaligned
buttons. She staggered down the back steps to the parking lot, and weaved
south and east, stopping to drop $50 on several bottles of cheaper vodka than
she'd been drinking, and lamenting that she couldn't afford the Chivas that
she'd started binging on.
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 chrome 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 didn't
look at her and think 'whore', even when she giggled, having almost asked for
Mr. Franks, before catching it, and badly slurring Mr. Hinder.
For his part, Jordan had hoped that she would come, and had left instructions
to provide a Mrs. Melissa Hinder with a key. She was half right when the
clerk asked her name, and gauging her intoxication, he judged that was
sufficient.
When Melissa hadn't arrived after thirty minutes, Jordan had guessed his shot
at breaking into Tom's operation was lost. Thoroughly exhausted by the
evening's activities, he'd fallen asleep in the room, wondering what had gone
wrong.
The clerk dutifully called the room when Melissa arrived, but there was no
answer. The woman fairly blushed when he handed her the card, offering her
directions to get her to 'her room'. Nodding absently, she slurred a 'thank
you', and then tottered off determinedly.
The phone hadn't registered, but some sounds caused an immediate response.
He was wide eyed awake a second after the locked door to his room swung open,
as much as the night lock allowed, before the metal struck home with a
characteristic noise. He rolled out of bed, automatically collecting the AMT
backup from the night stand as he did. He waited in the darkness, but no one
came around the corner.
He heard a weak, irregular knock, someone was still at the door. The backup
remained in his big fist, as he silently approached the half opened door. He
couldn't see through the seam of light, so he cautiously put his eye to the
peephole. He was delighted, then concerned to find Melissa sprawled on the
thin industrial carpet against his door. Pushing it closed enough to release
the lock, he checked the hall in both directions without the gun in evidence,
waving away a guest who'd started over to help her. The man checked his
forward motion, blinking at Jordan's sudden appearance, then hurried back to
his own room, as he lifted Melissa up, and carried her into his room. She
stood there, as he returned to relax the door, bracing it with a chair. He
found her crawling unceremoniously toward the servi-bar.
"Melissa, are you..."
"Shhh," she slurred, falling heavily against the wall, as she turned to look
at him, "Gimme a minute." she said, as she managed to open the bar, grabbing
out a handful of the tiny liquor bottles, without even 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. He stepped forward, unsure as to whether he meant to help her, or take
it away from her.
Melissa clearly suspected the latter, refusing to relinquish her grip. Shaking
his head, He picked up a second 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?" she giggled for a moment, her head lolling back alarmingly.
He wondered how she'd even managed to get to the hotel safely. Or if she had.
"I am that bad?" she slurred. "My life is shit. My husband is fucking other
women... other whores. And I guess that's all I'm ever gonna be before long."
Some of the questions from that evening began to fall into place for him and
he said, "You saw your husband with another woman tonight."
"Another whore!" she was speaking loudly, and he hoped that the rooms next
door were vacant.
"But..." there was 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 even want to do it with you, until I saw him with her. Tonight."
He shook his head, as he considered what she'd just said. He knew there were
precious few women who wanted to hook. And fewer who somehow enjoyed it,
excepting for the occasional Penthouse Pet, or would be starlet in Hollywood,
who saw it as a means to advancing their 'career'. But how seriously did
Melissa not want to be hooking, considering that she quite obviously was, and
why was she.
"... couldn't think straight. I just knew that I wanted to do the same thing
to him that he was doing to me. So for once I wanted to be having sex, tonight."
Maybe she was more sober than he'd guessed, because she blinked as if surprised
at what she'd 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?" he said, as he 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 that he should be having.
Not that what he'd just said made and sense. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
he asked.
Melissa looked at him, the distrust obvious. She emptied the second bottle,
glancing at the servi-bar again.
"You can't want to be giving yourself to strange men, and drinking yourself
into a stupor." he said.
The look became an angry glare, and then Jordan held up both hands, "If I'm
out of line, fine. But tell me why you do this?"
Her shoulders slumped, one strap of her sleeveless blouse dropping. Despite
her distress, he felt a stirring of arousal. She looked beautiful, even
sprawled half-smashed in a cheap hotel chair.
"OK..." she started out, obviously having made up her mind, "But I need to
know this first. Do you know Tom? Do you work for him? Is this just another
trap, so that I wind up working for him forever?"
He shook his head in puzzlement, glad that she was pretty drunk, he doubted
that he'd be getting anywhere otherwise.
"I've never met this Tom." Which was the truth. "Mike hooked me up with you."
he stopped, forcing down the excitement at being so close to breaking the case
open. "and you talked like this before, but I don't know what you mean by a
trap."
She sighed, and stared longingly at the pair of empty bottles, then gave him a
crooked smile. "Coffee's probably a good idea. Any time that you decide that
I've told you enough, and you want me to leave, just say so."
Jordan sat down on the bed, resisting the urge to move closer, or invite her
to come over to him. What he needed at the moment was information. And the
petite blonde school teacher that he had taken for a closet nymphomaniac
provided it in spades.
Sitting up slightly in the chair, Melissa caught the hem of her blouse,
casually lifting it over her head to expose her bare breasts.
"Left the bra in my purse," she smiled at so scandalous a thought. "A few
months ago I'd have died just imagining walking around in public like that.
Much less doing this in front of any man but my husband." the skirt followed,
revealing that she'd also forgone her panties, as well. "But now I can sit
like this, in front of a man that I barely know. Quite a change, isn't it?"
He 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, that 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 said, as 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. But you told me before that you didn't
remember..." he held his breath, hoping not to scare her off. She nodded.
"That's how this happened?" He waited, but she didn't continue.
"I'm not following." she said, smiling ruefully.
"I didn't either, at first. I have a girlfriend, Kathy. We used to go out once
a week. We'd see a movie, attend an art exhibit or workshop. And we'd have
dinner and drinks before or after." he 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 as well," she spread her legs slightly, as if to
offer him the proof. "and while I was sitting there in my bed, confused about
what had happened, and worried that my husband would be pissed off, he poked
his head into the bedroom, and laughed, saying that we must've had 'quite a
night'. I guess if he's been banging whores all this time, it must not have
seemed so odd."
She fumed for a moment, "But it was worse than that. I got up to shower, and
could tell that I'd been fucked, and I wasn't about to ask Jeff if we'd been
intimate. But I could call Kathy. Of course, she was in the same situation...
though her husband was less understanding about the whole piercing thing."
She absently spun one of the empty bottles on the table. "We found receipts in
our purses. I think that they were meant to give us a glimpse of what had
happened. We wondered around the city that day, hearing stories about how we'd
behaved like sluts with a guy that neither of us knew, or remembered. So we
played it down, staying close to home for a few weeks, making sure that neither
of us was sick because of it, you know."
Jordan nodded.
"The first night that we decided to really go out again..." she said, pawing
through her purse, and finding a crumpled Kleenex. he didn't force the issue.
"He used drugs of some sort... not enough to knock us out, but enough that we
went along with him... did whatever he wanted. He flew us to Vegas, and I
don't know how many men fucked us on the flight. And the greasy little man who
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. No condoms for any of them."
she wept, sitting there with her arms crossed over her abdomen, as if she were
in pain.
"And your husbands...?" he wasn't sure if he believed what the woman in front
of him was saying.
"We called home, and told them that we'd won some prize at the bar. Tom had
people who'd agree to that, if they'd called."
"So what happened?" he asked, to get her back on track.
"We woke up in a plush suite, naked, and obviously just fucked, with a
videotape showing Tom fucking us both in the VCR. After which he calmly
explained that we were 'his', and until we'd done what he considered was
'enough' to make up for what we 'owed' him, we'd ball whoever he said,
whenever he said to, however they wanted it done. If we refused, copies of the
tape would beat us back home." she said, in sobs, holding up the empty bottle,
and shaking visibly.
She considered going over to the servi-bar again, but continued instead. "Then
he gave us a set of 'lessons', in 'how to be a whore'. The do's and don't's of
tricking. Then on the flight back, we began to 'earn our keep', but without
the drugs that had at least robbed us of the awareness of what we were doing
at the time... Oh God..." she wailed, holding herself more tightly, and rocked
back and forth for several moments.
"I hadn't ever cheated on Jeff, and hadn't been with another man before." she
swallowed convulsively, and without thinking, Jordan moved closer, pulling her
into his arms. She clung to him, her body shaking, as she openly cried for
several minutes.
"You haven't told anyone?"
"Who would I tell? I've been used by cops, lawyers, even a judge. Hell, more
politicians that I know are customers, than I can even remember. And Tom always
knows what's happening, just talking to the other girls..." she paused, wiping
her eyes with the back of one hand. "If you actually start talk to anyone else,
share your names, tell them your story, or look to them for support, he catches
you. And the punishment is even more time on your back."
He couldn't believe it. The man had the perfect arrangement, prostitutes who
wouldn't turn on him, in order to protect themselves and their families. And
who couldn't collect any of what they made. That he really was providing his
customers with 'housewives' was a bitter irony. "Have you, uh, has he used you
for very long?" he asked innocently.
She gave a bittersweet laugh, and then replied, "Long enough. I don't' even
worry about fucking total strangers, or sitting naked in their laps anymore."
she hugged him more tightly at that. "That wasn't fair. And I honestly did
enjoy being with you tonight. It's not like you can do anything, Jim. I should
never have said anything to you, but I thought you were with him. Another test,
and that wasn't fair to you."
She started to get up, but then paused, "And I hope that you believe me, I
really did enjoy tonight. And I really do want to be with you. I mean if you
still want that."
Jordan was speechless for a moment, and she misunderstood. "That's all right."
she said as she started to get up, "I'll understand if you don't want me ever
again, just please don't say a word to Tom or Michael."
"Wait," Jordan held her close, suddenly afraid to let her leave the door. And
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 kids, my career, and 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, I've been 'in trouble'
before. But they can't hurt me, really, they want me making money for them,
you know? You..." she shivered, "I don't know what they'll do to you, if they
find out."
Jordan relaxed, the first time that he'd felt the tension ease, since beginning
to understand Tom's operation, and what he had done to these innocent women.
"Don't worry about me," he said, as he pulled her closer still, tilting her
head back, so that she was looking up at him, "there are things that I haven't
told you..."
Melissa went limp in his arms, and new sobs wracked her body. "Oh God... don't
tell me that you are with him... I was so sure... so sure."
"Shhh." he said, trying to comfort her, as he rocked her in his arms, a hand
resting unconsciously on her breast, "That's not it," he soothed, "It couldn't
be further from the truth baby."
She quieted down, and then looked up at him a moment later, with curiosity in
her eyes.
"I... I work for the government." he paused, but she didn't seem to understand.
He remembered that she'd mentioned lawyers, cops, and a judge. And anger built
within him, that he hadn't felt since learning about his sister. Suddenly it
didn't matter that his suspicions had been proven, all that mattered in that
moment was the woman in his arms. He paused, wondering how she'd react to the
truth. Not that he had a choice any more.
"Melissa... My name isn't James Franks. It's Jordan Franks. I'm with the FBI."
She stilled in his arms. "Melissa?"
"But you... we..." he saw that she wouldn't look at him, but felt her body
tense. "So now it's the government that's going to be fucking me."
"No!" he was surprised at the anger in his voice, "It isn't like that... I...
I didn't expect that you didn't want to... I don't really have approval to be
doing this... I mean it was all on my own time. And dammit, I didn't think I'd
have any feelings for you..." He stopped, and she was perfectly still. But at
least she wasn't trying to get away from him.
"And you do?" she asked.
He couldn't read her expression. Clenching his teeth, he nodded. "But not at
first... Before I was just a..."
"I'm sort of on suspension," he explained, "My boss said that 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 places that he may send
us for a 'job' once in a while." She shifted, "Hell, he flew us to Vegas and
back. But I can't testify." he felt her getting tense again, "None of us can,
we'd lose everything."
"Well, that's sort of why I came here. My boss thought I was obsessed, but she
also thought there might be some truth to my 'wild claims'. So I've been using
my vacation time to find Tom, and take him down. And now that you've proven
it's real, I'll find a way to do just that. And you won't have to do this ever
again."
She bit her lip, hiding a playful smile. "What if I want to?"
He suppressed a groan, as he felt her fingers teasing his erection. "Wait a
minute... I do want to... you know that."
He smiled, glad to see that she was looking at him in earnest now, and that
the earlier fear was gone, replaced by something more intimate. "But we have
to talk, first."
She sighed, almost pouting, and 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, and when and where
you've, uh, worked. The names of people that he's had you 'entertain'. The
names of the other women..."
She shook her head, and then said, "No names."
"You won't give me their names?"
"I don't know the other girls' names really, just their first names or
nicknames only." He nodded.
"No problem. We'll just watch your little 'prep pad'."
"You knew about that?"
"Not for sure, but I was betting that it was apartment #413 in the building
beside the hotel." She stiffened, nodding slightly. "Now I'm sure." She nodded
again, more 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, and the other
women that they've trapped. And the women that they'll trap if they're not
stopped. And I don't think they'll ever decide that they're done with you, if
you don't stand up to them. You'll end up broken down, or diseased, or
pregnant."
"Or sold to a Prince or some brothel down South."
"What?"
"I was in the basement of the apartment building a few days ago." suddenly
something that she'd seen seemed terribly important. "The doors were reinforced
with really sturdy locks, and Tom had boxes and boxes around the room. Most
were packed. Some were still empty. I saw binders that said 'KC' and 'Chicago'.
But I also saw binders that said 'Colombia' and 'Mexico' and 'Brunei'. I just
didn't think about it at the time." she then shivered violently. "But that
doesn't matter, I'll lose everything if I say anything."
He shook his head. "No. You'll lose everything when the school board fires you
for being a lush. And your husband will use your alcoholism as grounds for
diminished alimony in your divorce, and to keep you from your kids. And all
while you'll still be humping for Mike and Tom." He caught her chin, "and it's
not the government you're fucking..."
He bent down and kissed her gently, "I won't run out on you for standing up
and doing the right thing." He 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 them, to open his pants.
He smiled up at her and asked, "You're sure that this isn't the alcohol
talking?" his voice trailing off in a groan, as she guided him into her molten
seam.
She set up a steady rocking motion, holding him deeply inside of her, and
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 that he needed, to get Tom the Pimp. And as their bodies met in
an easy rhythm, the 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 first climax peaked, Melissa groaned, falling against his chest and
shuddering uncontrollably. Catching her in one arm, Jordan rolled, keeping
them joined together without any difficulty. As she quieted, he began to
thrust into her in long, slow strokes. She mewled in delight, arching her back
and meeting his thrusts, her legs scissoring behind his waist, spurring him on,
her fingernails digging into his buttocks. Still wondering if she'd always
thrown herself so fully into love making, he picked up the tempo, quickly
pushing them both over the edge.
The mutual climax wasn't the end though, as each continued to move against the
other, their need for each other unsated. He rolled onto his side to allow a
more leisurely coupling. They drifted off to sleep, still entwined, each more
at peace than they'd been in months.
