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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 21
Melissa was late to work. And she arrived in the same clothes that she'd worn
the day before. But she was sober for a change. Waking up in bed with a Fed
could do that. She was still trying to convince herself that it wasn't a dream.
And that he really could help her. Not that she had much choice. There was her
husband's affair, who was she kidding, he'd been far too comfortable for that
to be a first time, still rocked her to the core. At least her sons were old
enough to understand that they weren't the problem, and that mom had tried to
protect them when the truths came out.
She'd agonized about what to do, realizing after the last time that she and
Jordan, had made love, that she cared less about what Jeff thought, than this
new strange man, a man who was 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 that she'd seen him at his 'meeting' the night before. She'd
said as much to the oldest child, who'd gone from scared to puzzled, when she
called, but agreed to relay the message verbatim. She'd showered in his rented
room, before putting her clothes on better than she had the night before and
driving to work.
He had made her promise not to say a word to anyone, while he figured things
out. She'd pointed out that Tom or Michael might expect her to 'work', and
he'd nodded, asking if she could do that if she had to. She'd been surprised
to find that she could, and h3 knew that she wasn't enjoying herself, it
wasn't like when they were together. Though both hoped that he could figure
things out, before that happened, she was confident that it wouldn't mess up
whatever relationship that they shared.
She agonized though, about keeping the secret from Kathy. At least until she
heard her friend's gushing voicemail about 'how lucky they were' to have
Michael taking over from Tom. That was reason enough to keep silent, except to
point out that definite change in her personality to Jordan. And that was
enough to add another time press to Agent Franks' plans.
The events of the night before, had left her little doubt that she'd have to
leave her job, probably relocating in the process. And she was amazed that
even that wasn't as terrifying as she'd imagined it would be. So she was more
relaxed, as she entered the school building than she'd been in weeks. The vice
principal's glare caused her no remorse or guilt, she calmly tolerated the
seemingly endless succession of classes, peopled by arrogant, coddled,
uninterested monsters.
Better still, the biddy's accusatory passes through the hall to spy on her,
were pointless, as there was no alcohol anywhere near Melissa's room, though
true to his warnings, the urge to drink was powerful more than once during
the day. She added 'meetings' to her mental list of things to do, unable to
make herself write the more concise 'AA', even in her mind.
The day passed without any problems. Most importantly, there was no call from
Tom or Michael. Or Kathy, which she found interesting. Melissa thought about
calling her friend at lunchtime, but opted instead to wait, there was 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 such a gentle and caring, yet strong and self-assured
man and lover, including the dozens, hundred's it seemed, who'd used her in
recent months.
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, and was
living as Michael's whore. Aware that her friend had been 'testing' a potential
'regular', and simply assumed that they'd hit if off as well, and that her
friend had simply decided to stay out all night.
The thought of leaving a husband like that, was suddenly easy for her to
consider, or to project into other's behavior. After all, Melissa might
pretend that her marriage was perfect, but Kathy knew better. She'd never told
her friend, but she had personal experience, rebuffing a drunken husband at
the fourth of July picnic the year before. She wondered why she'd never
mentioned that, whether in fear that Mel would stop seeing her, or from a
secret delight that she knew that her friend's life wasn't Mayberry perfect
after all.
She ignored the suggestive glances and gestures she'd grown more receptive to
the last week, other men paled in comparison to Michael. So she was
disappointed that there wasn't a call from him that day. She fantasized about
simply visiting the downtown apartment, and volunteering to do some work, Fred
would never notice. She skipped lunch, working through in order to get out
early and swing by the school. Regardless of her fantasy world, she knew that
she needed to make that sure Melissa was holding up. If her friend broke down,
confessing up their dirty secret life to Jeff, her own life could go up in
flames as well, and any chance at having Michael again would be lost.
Agent Franks spent the day carefully testing the waters for support. An agent
that he knew and trusted in the St. Louis office listened to his edited report
of finding 'The Ring', as Franks had dubbed it, then suggested that they send
an asset, read that as not a suspended agent, in as a decoy. A call to his
Dallas supervisor had garnered support for that plan, though Jordan argued
that the MO would leave their undoubtedly female agent with new body jewelry,
a possible concern for VD from an unknown partner, or partners, but no other
information. Not to mention, it assumed that they could get the principals,
Mike and Tom, to attempt to 'recruit' the agent. He calmly pointed out that
they seemed to target pairs of women, whether it seemed safer or allowed
easier 'excuses' for when the women worked, he didn't care.
Laid out that bluntly, the prospect of a PR nightmare, and a blown case killed
the plan in utero. The man was hesitant though, to act on the 'statement of a
whore'. Jordan was glad that the man couldn't see his expression over the
phone, upon hearing Melissa so described. And equally glad that he was
separated from his friend by three hundred odd miles, otherwise he wasn't sure
what he would've done. Instead of shouting, Jordan calmly reiterated the facts,
the prostitutes in question were being blackmailed to perform sex acts, without
receiving any benefits from their activities, and held hostage, by the
potential damage to their marriages, they were decidedly not whores, and could,
in fact, be characterized as serial rape victims. Force and absence of consent
were both present, and his supervisor agreed.
But other skepticism remained. Not the least of which was whether the 'coerced
prostitution ring' (a euphemism coined on the spot, he was sure) was under
Federal jurisdiction. His reiteration that 'his source' had been flown, while
drugged to Vegas, raped en route and while there, then returned to provide
more forced 'sexual labor', failed to convince the KC SAC, who'd been added
into the conference call by then. Even his allegation of white slavery sales
to Mexico, South America, and the Middle East, had failed to win him support
from the 'agent on site'.
The arrogant prick had offered to 'look into it', but Jordan knew that
euphemism too. That was what supervisors said, when they wanted you off the
trail, while they went in and did it their way, regardless of things like the
facts. It was a quick way to a blown case, and dead, or missing, or divorced
hookers. Not wanting to risk alerting Tom, or his new partner, and definitely
opposed to putting any of the women at risk, Franks gritted his teeth, wishing
he'd waited until he had hard evidence. Which he could still get, though that
would require more time and luck, and he doubted that he had either.
The Bureau would undoubtedly start poking around and soon. And if Tom really
was prepared to moved on, he'd simply vanish. Jordan was especially glad that
he hadn't mentioned Melissa by name, he'd been burned once too often by leaks,
to trust anyone completely, and the potential personal cost was too great for
him to even consider. He carefully provided misinformation about who he'd been
with, and when and where, the last thing he wanted, was to let what he'd told
the 'good guys' burn both Melissa and him. But after a day of fruitless
bickering and brainstorming, he wondered what he'd tell his girl.
Incredibly relieved that there hadn't been a call 'to work', Melissa stopped
at home long enough to pack some things up, leaving only a note that she
'might be back'. She wished that she had more time to select the things that
she wanted to keep, no doubt Jeff would set about destroying the parts of her
life that he didn't want for himself, but she couldn't stand to spend anymore
time in the house, and was glad to escape, before anyone else got home. Besides,
the situation left her free to stay in his room. He insisted, though he had
agreed that he would keep 'his' room at the hotel where they'd met.
By Friday, the lack of contact had Melissa worried that she was in trouble for
leaving her husband, Kathy was beside herself with desire for her pimp, and
He was convinced that his quarry had somehow figured things out, and 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 that 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. And Melissa
relayed what sketchy information that she was given to Jordan, who decided he
would shadow the trio for a number of reasons.
True to his gut worry, the night unfolded just as Jordan had warned his former
Quantico classmate. He had to give the team credit, since they managed to hook
Michael at least. It was just a matter of landing the fish once hooked.
The model, pretty blonde and her husband, who'd volunteered for the job, had a
knock-down drag-out row at their table, ending with her retreat to the bar,
and his storming out. Jordan had watched Michael eye that woman, a couple
obviously out for a night away from their men, and another single lady who was
as shy as anyone that he had ever seen in a 'meat market'. Three independent
but inter-related scenarios, designed to snare the pimps.
Michael never mentioned Tom, or his whereabouts, but he'd carefully briefed
Kathy, and after a whisper and a nudge, she got up and approached the
'abandoned' woman. They talked for awhile, then moved to the table with
Melissa, Michael had moved elsewhere. The look of horror that Jordan saw in
her eyes, was proof enough for him of what lay in store. But despite his
silent plea for them to intervene, the catch team held their positions, as the
ladies sat and talked.
Kathy and their new friend were the most animated, clearly swapping war stories
about marriage. Melissa spent most of her time looking around blankly, largely
ignored by the others. After 11:30, when the table had piled up with drinks,
Michael reappeared. He wore a name tag that Jordan couldn't read at his distant
position along the bar, especially since he was confined to watching them
indirectly through the bar mirror.
Michael quickly cleaned up, asking if the ladies 'wanted anything else'. Kathy
asked about their special, and 'waiter' Michael went on enthusiastically about
some concoction that all three women agreed to try. He hustled away, not even
bothering to hide his assumed persona from the bartender, 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 the
fingerprints on the machine, in case none of the hidden agents thought of it.
A boisterous couple sat down, obscuring his view of the table, and he went to
the men's room, where there was a short line for the 'two holer' arrangement.
On his return, he was shocked to find that the table where Mel and the others
had been was empty, three empty margarita stemware glasses and a waiter's tray
were all that remained. Snatching up the tray, and glass, Jordan searched for
the 'husband', of the helpless agent, and the rest of her backup. They had
become lackadaisical, apparently not twigging to Michael's presence, first as
a guest, and then as a waiter.
He cursed, as they belatedly appeared and began to act, throwing caution to
the wind, as soon as one of the young agents had taken control of the table
and running out of the club. There was no sign of them, and he fervently
prayed that they hadn't been 'made'. It was a possible explanation for why
Michael had asked for Kathy and Melissa, and the thought of that left Jordan
feeling impossibly cold inside.
The agent's recovery was further delayed, because they weren't truly a local
team, the agents didn't really know the location of the house where their
decoy was supposed to live, and it was after sunrise, before someone moved to
check there. Thanks to credible work by the papers division, the less than day
old driver's license had been sufficiently 'aged' that Michael didn't think
twice.
He'd bought the printed address on Teri Fawn's ID, guiding her almost to the
house, before telling her to pull into the garage and go to bed. It meant some
risk, but Tom had cautioned him that the drugs left the women so susceptible,
that they might get lost or have an accident, if they had to drive very far.
Agent Fawn awoke with a post-barbiturate hangover, and the tell-tale body
jewelry that Jordan's lady had awakened with months before, and the vague aches
of a woman who had been thoroughly fucked. She'd called her location in, then
lay back, overwhelmed at what had happened to her the night before.
Tests on the horrified agent agreed with her intuition, but also with Jordan's
prediction of no real evidence. Until she was helpless and in his control for
a longer period of time, Michael, like Tom, had relied on condoms. And of
course, the woman had no recollection of what had happened. At least she
wouldn't be trapped into hooking, as so many of the other women who'd fallen
into that trap had.
Better for the chances of catching the pimps, the embarrassment that the Agency
suffered, at so 'losing' an agent, had bumped Tom's 'Housewife Ring' up to top
priority. Jordan was brought inside, and at an upgraded position, matching his
former supervisor to head the investigation. That followed a prolonged
screaming match, during which the SAC in St. Louis, and his cohort in Kansas
City had attempted to shift the blame to Jordan, insisting that he had 'known
more than he had let on' and had 'endangered' their agent.
Unwilling to be the scapegoat, when he finally had the entire Bureau backing
him up, he had calmly reminded everyone of his initial suspicions, his
incident reports, his requests, his off duty update, and his warnings against
using an 'agent provocateur', after convincing the others that there was
something to the claim. And he'd backed it up with recorded evidence, sneering
at the suggestion that it was illegal, while pointing out so was slander and
falsifying evidence.
Faced with incontrovertible, although illegal evidence, the others backed down,
leaving him in charge of the THR task force. At completion of the task
force's first day, He made a conflicted trip to the Doubletree Hotel. While he
barely knew the woman who'd been completely caught in Michael's web, and while
he knew her experience paled in comparison to Melissa's, he could not avoid
the knowledge that the woman he'd come to love, had been complicit in the
agent's kidnap and rape.
Any concern that she'd done it intentionally, vanished as he keyed his way
into his adjoining room. Melissa's sobs were audible all the way out in the
hall. She paused when she saw him, asking if they'd caught Michael. He shook
his head, taking the trembling blond in his arms, and comforting the woman
that he'd been imagining as the enemy. She described in halting detail how
Michael had insisted that they were just 'out on the town', to 'drum up new
business', and that he'd shown 'his women' off to some 'friends', whose
discussions had been quiet enough, that she hadn't understood any of the
specifics. What had horrified Melissa, was her friend's eagerness to do
whatever he had asked, and that she'd seemed eager to help him ensnare another
innocent woman.
She'd tried to decide how it would happen, remembering how she and Kathy had
wound up at a different bar than they'd initially visited. Though that was
likely true for Teri as well, Michael had simply used Mel and Kathy to ease
his target's suspicions, until he could slip her the drug. He'd drugged one
drink, making sure that it was given to his prey, and by the time that Melissa
was sure that he was doing more than just sizing her up, the tall FBI agent
had finished enough of her drink, that she'd readily gulped the rest of it
down in a toast with Kathy, and was moments later exiting the bar hand in hand
with Kathy's friend. Melissa had followed in shock, finding Michael waiting to
relieve agent Fawn of her keys, and taking her off in her own car for the rest
of the night's debauchery.
Melissa had begged off, ignoring Michael's anger at that, and had gone back
inside to seek Jordan's help, but had been frightened away by the frantic
activity, as the undercover agents swarmed around the table. She hadn't seen
him dash out of the bar after them, and frightened that she'd be detained,
she'd returned to the hotel.
Proud that she had resisted to the degree that she had, and relieved that she
hadn't become the willing whore that her friend was, he carried the petite
blonde over to the king sized bed, where they spent the night making love, in
part to forget the horrors of the night before. But it couldn't 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. And she'd 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 her answer.
"Because I'm going to testify."
A momentary doubt threatened to swamp her though, and she murmured, "You'll
still be here for me, won't you?" His smile and embrace were his assurance,
and was all that she needed.
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 that something was wrong. Snatching up his notes, and the
prodigious quantities of the drugs that he'd stockpiled, he stopped at the law
office Monday morning, catching Kathy as she headed inside to work. On seeing
him, she squealed, rushing to his car like a high school Freshman asked to
speak to the Varsity quarterback.
He briefly explained that he had to run, and then offered to take her along.
The once fiercely independent, and outspoken wife of Fred Dwyer merely nodded,
climbing into his car without hesitation, and shucking her panties and bra as
fast as her lover was taking them out of town. Neither was found, despite the
warrants that were issued, based upon Melissa Sureham's testimony.
Tom, presumably christened Dwayne Thomas, though that was in doubt, wasn't so
lucky. His home was raided by a combined group of the KCPD SWAT team, augmented
by members of the FBI HRT without finding a thing. But at the raid on a barn,
listed in the effects that they found in Michael's warrant for an apartment
above the room where Melissa, Kathy, and the others had worked, they struck
gold. Tom and two of the housewives that he'd recently ensnared were inside
the barn. Tom was taken away naked and bloodied, where the women had turned on
him, as the agents crashed through the door. The women were held for their
statements, and their experience provided the most ready means of prosecuting
their former pimp, based on 'simple' criminal law. The mastermind behind a
nine state white slavery ring would initially be convicted of raping those
women in the barn that night.
Livid at the suggestion that his wife had been a prostitute, Fred Dwyer
divorced Kathy in absentia, ignoring the fact that one of the women who Tom
had raped, the night that he was caught, was the woman with whom he'd been
having an affair for several months. Her husband killed himself, media
mouthpieces lamenting his 'inability to cope' with what had befallen his wife.
And so the truth behind Tom's selection of Melissa and Kathy was forever lost.
Melissa's divorce was granted quietly, and while her testimony was key, her
name and image were diligently hidden from the media, protecting her reputation
in Arlington, where she moved in with the hero of the moment, Agent Franks.
She and Agent Fawn became fast friends, the whispers of how close, was never
as outrageous as was the truth.
Dozens of women came forward in cities across the country to support and
further Mel's testimony. Some, came out due to a press leak, which identified
the specific 'Jerry tattoo' or identified by friends who'd been similarly
trapped, and gave their information 'under duress'. The majority of those who
had 'served their time' had been divorced, and several marriages ended, when
the truth was released, but counseling was provided, and nearly all of the
women would find the strength to move past this horror that their lives had
become, and got on with their lives, secure that Tom would never again ruin
their lives.
Even so, some remained unwilling, or unable to take the stand. At the time that
his Federal Racketeering trial began, more than 100 women had been identified,
who'd been systematically drugged, raped, and prostituted by Thomas, nearly a
dozen 'colleagues', and countless customers. Thanks to the computer wizards at
Quantico, who could circumvent Tom's outdated security programs, thousands 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 their testimony, and pertinent information regarding Dwayne Thomas'
operation. More importantly for the women, they would serve as the source of a
'recovery fund' for the victims. Decried by the men's lawyers, as 'delayed
payment for prostitution', the public outcry was sufficient, that the threat
of releasing Tom's customers' names to the media, quickly silenced those
arguing against civil court findings for damage.
Overnight, the availability of 'housewife hookers' dropped almost to zero, and
stories once circulated on the net as 'urban legends' were suddenly accepted
as proof of danger to all women. Nearly two dozen missing persons cases in the
cities where Tom had operated, were theoretically solved, when his lists of
'sales' to the rich men in other countries were decrypted. In only a few cases
were the women actually located, those lost to the Middle East weren't even
pursued, in order to protect governments' interest, and the women's lives, as
their new 'husbands' would kill them, rather than lose face at having them.
And in almost every such case, the poor souls had become accustomed to their
new life, refusing to leave. Those who'd been sold to whore down in Mexico and
South America were undeniably more destroyed than Melissa and her sisters. They
were brought back, with scars, disease, and drug dependence, that would mark
them forever. But some came home to families that still loved them.
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, and cared about her,
despite her past, and who at night made her glad for the things that she had
'learned' to do, to give pleasure. A man for whom her pleasure was always the
first concern. Whereas at one time, she had considered sex with Jeff 'perfect',
the reality of it cast a harsh light on that portion of her past. If she went
twelve hours without her new husband making a welcome advance, she knew it was
'her turn' to be the aggressor.
Still, she worried about the fate of her friend, and often wondered what had
so changed Kathy, that she would flee with Michael. Certainly she'd been
changed as well, Melissa readily admitted, from her former attitude toward men
to the way that she used her sexuality and felt about herself. The Bureau had
offered her counseling, but after the first session, she hadn't gone back. The
counselor, a reserved but perceptive woman with auburn hair, admitted that Mel
was 'about as well adjusted as anyone I've met here'. Missy Franks simply
chose to face the frequent interludes each day, when the past came rushing up.
She refused to deny that it had happened, but equally refused to let it
swallow up her present. Only at night, safe in his arms, did she willingly
explore those dark places, often wondering 'what if'.
*******************
Six Months Later
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 two jobs lined up, and will need her help
at both. She's glad, the men in the park have been around enough that they're
becoming brazen, as if they've 'earned' freebies. Not that they'd do anything
though, her man is big enough, and when necessary, mean enough, to whip any
three of them. And he loves her, anyone can see that. But tonight will bring 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
the dark halls, turning once, and then again. They step into the small gym at
the heart of the building. There are lights near the stage, and a screen has
been set 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 the robes on the largest man as being well dressed.
She's seen enough now to know that his robes weren't cheap. You'd never guess
it from looking at her and her man, where they living. It's a temporary
situation, Shawn likes to say.
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, of women willing to do anything, despite their
'position in life'. Men are always like that, always looking for the next
conquest.
One of the men asks a question, and Shawn shrugs, offering an explanation. It
doesn't matter to her, and beyond the occasional word, she doesn't even really
hear them. She drifts off in her mind, imagining what she and 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 one of the subjects. It
doesn't matter that she's on the film, Shawn doesn't care about it.
Without looking at 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 and kids, and chatting with neighbors. Cut to the women half naked in
a tattoo parlor, calmly letting a sweating, leering man pierce them, and again
the thought brings a pleasant tingle to her nipple. Cut to the women rutting
and groaning in the back of one of the women'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 unflinchingly 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 pubs 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 are brief images of the
women with different men. She'd never considered most of her tricks would be
recorded, but nothing was wasted in the effort. There's a prolonged scene from
the video that was made, where both women are partially masked, allowing
obvious strangers to do whatever they want, and begging all the while for more.
The lights go up. By the end, she's always excited. Not like when she knows
she'll be with Shawn, but that will come later, and she smiles, imagining
she'll wake the neighbors in the trailer park again.
There's more interest in what he's suggested now though. More animated
discussion. He shrugs occasionally, calmly repeating that 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 one 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 first pangs of
her need to have him take her, but that can't happen yet.
When he motions her to the table, she sits down at the end of the cold Formica,
then lays back, and spreads her legs wide apart, welcoming Shawn's future
partners. The first time that he let all who'd attended his little sales job
have a turn. But by now... now he knows that enough will want in, that he can
be selective. This is their 'incentive' to get on board right then.
It doesn't take long really. Even though eight of the eleven there for his
presentation take a turn. The others are allowed to watch, and her obvious
passivity, no matter what the men do to her, convinces a ninety. That's the
benefit of 'the show', Shawn always tells her. They leave with the 'seed money'
in hand. It's more money than she'd ever seen at one time, until she was with
Shawn.
It's their sixth town in as many months. Always big cities. A couple weeks
while Shawn sniffs out potential investors, gets introduced, and 'networks'.
It's not so different from the endless 'socials' that she once braved, as a
housewife, before her husband lost interest in her.
Except these parties are in clubs where sex is openly on everyone's mind, not
hidden behind 'proper' masks. Another day or two now, and she's sure that
they'll move on again. Maybe in the next town, their 'nest egg' will be big
enough that 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
that they're half way home for the night, sends a tremor of need through her
body. And part of that excitement is at the job that's yet to come.
Some of the investors are paying (and will continue to pay) for Shawn's
blueprint for keeping a stable under control. She doesn't understand all of it.
It involves patches and syringes, but of course Shawn's never used that on her.
He only gives her the occasional injection of 'morning after' medicine to be
sure that they don't wind up with a baby. He also provides that for the pimps,
as well as the means that he and his former partner found to recruit women to
fill their stable.
For an additional fee, he'll act as a 'broker'. In addition to supplying the
pre-mixed drugs for both aspects of 'running women', he negotiates 'trades' of
women, or their services, among the men who have signed on. None of it involves
real names or 'traceable monies'. It's strictly a cash business, and whenever
they get enough cash, Shawn takes a private plane south to Grand Cayman. He
took her once, and it was a week long sample of the heaven that they'll live in
some day.
But for now, there's the night's final job. Shawn changed more than just their
names after they escaped. He realized that they needed to 'diversify'. For
several weeks, there was no way that he would risk 'recruiting' a new woman to
work with her, there were too many warnings on the news and in the clubs. And
he realized what his partner had never admitted, the 'start up' is hard
without a stable of women already working by choice.
At first, the 'housewife hooker' was unique, since it's a slow process to pick
which women are susceptible to 'recruitment', and then to actually recruit
them. Shawn says that the fact he'd managed to shift to a totally 'volunteer
crew' was tribute to the patience and caution that he'd exercised. Though he
was as surely in prison, as if he'd simply been attacking women, or selling
women on the street.
Oh, the sentence was less harsh than people had wanted, and he was doing the
time with former senators and businessmen, the benefit of 'free samples' to
people with power, Shawn explained, but it's prison, just the same. If he'd
simply been running whores nationwide, there wouldn't have been such an outcry,
but husbands and wives were outraged, and scared at the thought that they might
have been snared in Tom's little operation. And Shawn keeps mentioning that
his former partner will have to watch it, there are plenty of enemies, even
among his 'friends' who'd rather that he never leave prison alive.
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, and who'd ever suspect a woman.
Besides, she changes her appearance for the work. Has done it enough that she
completes the transformation in the car on the way, an attractive, but not
outrageous 'party dress', with panties and a thin bra, she hates them now,
dark hued lipstick and 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 now.
Add glasses and a small mole on one cheek, and 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. And 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 of attention to anything.
There are children out on the dance floor, and despite the raging A/C, the room
feels warm. Lots of E in the house tonight. That little truth is what Shawn
likes to use as proof that everyone breaks the rules. And the first time he
arranged this, when she felt bad, he reminded her of 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, after that's when you get to make up.
She shakes her head, spotting her new friend. The woman is waving and smiling
broadly. She shouts a name, not Celeste's real name, but that's not important,
she once wasn't Celeste, and 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 and loud and hearing's almost impossible.
The women give each other that fake embrace, that's supposed to promote
sisterhood. But Cammie will be joining the true sisterhood tonight. Which
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, and seeing that Cammie's eyes are on the dance
floor, Celeste deftly opens the tiny envelope in her palm, over her friend's
drink, stirring the powder into the thankfully small glass, before pocketing
the empty paper. Cammie takes the proffered drink and they toast. The sweet
liquid is easy to drink quickly.
Like Shawn says, order a second, so the first is finished faster and the glass
goes into the dishwasher. It also makes 'being drunk' more believable. She
raises her fingers and the bartender nods, quickly providing them with another
round. Cammie laughs, but finishes her drink with a toss of her head, and moves
on to the second. Now all Celeste has to do is wait. The pretty co-ed isn't
married now. She had married young, got divorced, and has gone back to law
school. Just the type Shawn's friends are looking for, wherever it is that
they fly them.
The first time, after she saw the fancy jet lift off into the night, she
wished for a moment that she was on board, but then Shawn put his arm around
her and she knew she was where she belonged. Cammie blinks. She's swaying on
the stool a bit. Celeste leans close, smiling at her friend, and waving off a
would be dance partner. As the other woman starts to blink more frequently,
her eyes losing focus, Celeste drops a $20 on the bar, waves thanks to the
bartender, and leads the other woman toward the dance floor. At least until
they're out of sight of the bar. There's no resistance as she leads Cammie
toward the side exit, where she knows Shawn will be waiting.
--
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