Chapter 2



"Hello?" she called out. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Her light soprano voice seemed to disappear into the cavernous space before her. In the dimness she could make out tables with chairs stacked on top of them, like they did at the pool hall back home when they put down fresh sawdust. Over on the left was a bar with a single glowing neon sign advertising the product of an upscale local brewery. In the light of that sign she could see the diamond-like reflections of hundred of glasses of all shapes and sizes. Row upon row of them, shining and spotless.

Alex had taken about three steps into the darkened room when she was stopped short.

"May I help you?"

Even before she whirled around, surprised by the sudden sound of his deep voice, Alex knew what the owner of that voice would look like. He would be tall. He would be young and dark. And he would be handsome. Very handsome. Turning, she gasped audibly as she realized she had been both right and wrong in her prescience.

The man standing before was dark. Wuthering Heights dark. Heathcliff in the flesh. Wet your panties dark and handsome. He was young, too, she saw. She estimated by the lack of grey and the smooth unlined skin on his face that he was only a couple of years older than she was, but he could have been older, too. What took her aback, what surprised her was just how tall he was. He was well over six feet tall, maybe even two inches over. Alex had thought Harold was big at five feet, seven inches, as tall as Daddy. But now, Alex had to tip her head back to just to look at this man's face. His beautiful face. His gorgeous face, looking at her with a curious expression, as if waiting for an answer...

Alex jerked herself out of her reverie, blushing as she felt the unfamiliar moistness between her thighs.

"George?" she queried, hopefully.

"I prefer Mr. Smith," he replied.

Alex nodded, trying to place his accent. Or maybe it was just his pronunciation of the word 'mister.' It had almost sounded like he had said 'Master Smith.' She shook that thought from her mind and, having found what she assumed was her quarry, launched into a complete explanation, minus the ravishing, of course, of how she had come to be here. She didn't notice in her rush to get out her explanation just how comfortable he made her feel. Nor did she find it strange that she was telling him much more about her life than she had intended. All she knew was that when she looked in his eyes, she felt like she belonged here. She wanted to belong here.

The man's name was not George. Or Mr. Smith. His name was Damon Arquette, though few, if any people in this country were aware of his real name. He answered to 'Mr. Smith.' He had no idea who George was, nor did he care beyond the fact that there was no one named George who worked at the club. That made him suspicious of the pretty woman standing in front of him.

Damon was, by nature and by necessity, suspicious. It was how he had survived in this business and how he had been as successful as he was. His immediate reaction upon seeing this pretty young woman standing in his club was that the Feds had sent in yet another undercover agent. True, he had been expecting a new dancer this morning, but this innocent young thing in front of him was obviously not her. No makeup, no attitude, no piercings, no leather, no whip marks or scars. This was definitely not a girl from one of the other clubs owned by the Syndicate. And the dancer he was expecting, was, by the way, two hours overdue, and therefore, was not coming. She had probably not survived her last dance at her last club. It wasn't unusual, in this business.

Damon kept a pleasant smile on his face, nodding occasionally at the babbling woman, pretending to listen. He could listen to the tape later, if he had to learn anything from the story she was telling. She was good, he had to admit. But was she Narcotics, ATF, IRS or from some RICO-type committee? He had found the best way to find out what the bastards were after was to let them think he was cooperating. But not quite fully. He had learned the hard way, as several dead agents could have told you, that if he kept them thinking that if they only looked a little harder or let him get a little closer, the evidence they needed would be found. By digging more than they intended, they inevitably tipped their hand and let him know what they were after, and, thus, what to hide. None had survived.

On the surface, Damon ran a straight club. No drugs, no minors, no prostitution. That still left a lot of opportunities to profit from the weaknesses in others. It was his club, by its very existence, however, that grated most often on the moral self-image of the community. Sanctimonious hypocrites. No one wanted to admit out loud that there was a market for his kind of club, the kind of club that let men and even some women explore their darker sides. The self-righteous bitches that squeezed their legs shut after the honeymoon and one kid couldn't stand the fact that it was their husbands' money that kept him in business. And kept the club highly profitable.

Hell, he just provided a service. They provided the demand. Supply and demand, that was true market forces at work. Somehow, in the tiny little minds of those frigid bitches, because he supplied the services they wouldn't or couldn't, that made him the 'bad guy.' Well, they weren't far off, but it wasn't for any of those reasons.

The woman, 'Alex' she said her name was, was still yapping away. He wondered what 'Alex' was short for, but he suspected it wasn't for brevity. It didn't look like she was winding up anytime soon, either. Damon allowed himself an assessing glance of her body, taking a calculated risk that her eyes would still be held by his when he looked back. He effected some women that way and she seemed to be susceptible.

His eyes drifted down over her chest, noting the generous swells capped by the obvious protrusions of her nipples. Her waist was slender, her hips flared nicely. What he could see of her legs showed a shapely calf and ankle, even with the flat shoes. Already Damon was imaging her legs in stiletto heels and the wonderful effect they would have on the shape of her legs and buttocks.

Looking back at her green eyes, Damon was surprised to see the flush of pleased embarrassment that colored her neck and cheeks. She had noticed him checking her out and it pleased her. Odd. He gave her his most disarming smile, as if it was only natural for him to inspect her bodily attributes. He gave no sign of noticing her subtle shift in posture, as she moved her cheap purse behind her back and thrust her breasts out at him, as if in invitation for a greater inspection. Had it not been for the unconscious blush, that move would have convinced him that she was an agent. As it was, he wasn't sure what he thought she was.

"So. How can I help you, Alex?" he asked her when she finally wound down her lengthy explanation.

She looked up at him in dismay. She couldn't just come out and ask this stranger that she needed to know what made her husband horny and how to turn him on.

"I -- I -- Uh, I guess I want to learn, to know..." she stumbled badly and ended weakly. This part of the conversation had gone so much easier when she had had it in her mind. George, Mr. Smith, was supposed to know what she needed.

"You want to learn what? How to tend bar? How to serve drinks?"

Alex shook her head. She felt hot. She knew she was blushing and it wasn't all from embarrassment. She was strongly attracted to this man. It must have been the long walk to get here, she rationalized.

"What? Do you want to learn what we do here?"

The look of relief on her face as she nodded almost made him laugh. That, however, would have been a mistake, and Damon didn't make many of those. Not when it came to women.

Damon pursed his lips, thinking. For the Feds, this was a novel approach, but he wouldn't put it past them. Still, the girl's reactions seemed to be genuine. She looked to be too young to be that good of an actress, but even that wasn't outside the realm of possibility. It had been a while since he had had the opportunity to break in a new girl, and he had never tried to train one that was this naïve. It might be fun. The thought of having total control over this diminutive redhead was extremely tempting to him, and that set the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

"Well, I think I can give you an idea of what goes on here. But tell me this, Alex: Are you interested in learning about it or experiencing it for yourself?"

She looked up at him, her green eyes dancing in excitement. "Is there a difference?" she asked him.

Damon gave a short laugh. Naïve and beautiful. This girl, agent or not, had just delivered herself into his hands. At least until he could find out who she worked for. Regardless, he was sure he could turn this into a profit somehow. It was an opportunity he couldn't resist.

Taking the girl gently by the arm he led her from the bar area down a long dark hallway to his office. The soundproofed door closed behind them and he led Alex over to a large wooden chair. He turned it so that it faced a bank of nine TV screens set in the wall. Normally, these screens were set up for viewing security and the observation of all key points in the club. It wasn't unheard of that the occasional blackmail tape was produced here, as well. But with the club now empty, this would make a good educational center until he could get the other room set up with the special 'training' equipment he had designed. It hadn't been used for a while, but it wouldn't take much.

"OK, Alex. If you would please sit here."

Alex sat in the chair. She was obviously nervous but she was unaccountably excited, too.

"I don't know what your level of experience is and I'm not going to be able to sit and watch you while you watch these tapes. In addition, some of the things you see or hear may disturb you. If they didn't, though, you wouldn't learn anything, would you?"

Alex shook her head silently. She had been captivated by this man, his actions, his voice. She was trying hard to get a grip on her feelings, to control her heart rate. It felt as if it was fluttering and racing in her chest. Her breathing was erratic, as well, and she didn't trust herself to speak. So she dumbly nodded her assent.

"Not only that, but this is my private office. I have things in here that I wouldn't want any stranger to look through, contracts and things, you understand. So, we're going to play a little game." He produced a roll of masking tape. "Place your arms on the arms of the chair if you would, please."

He said it so nicely, she didn't object. She laid her arms, palms down, on the arms of the chair. She watched silently as he took a length of the masking tape and wrapped it around her wrist. Another went just below her elbow. The other arm was taped in the same manner. Each loop was just a single band, easily broken.

She giggled a little when he did her ankles and knees, taping them to the front legs of the chair, as the tape tickled her. Damon grinned up at her conspiratorially and gave her a friendly wink. He could smell her arousal and it amused him. Her dress, normally below her knees, had ridden up above them. Her upper legs, however, were still modestly covered, so she wasn't threatened by this minor exposure.

Damon pulled off a long strip of tape and centered it across her chest above her breasts. A second long strip was centered across her stomach below those swells. With delicate firmness, Damon slipped the ends of the two lengths of tape under her arms and taped them to the back of the chair. He did this without copping a feel, and Alex was almost disappointed. It was getting more difficult for him to keep a straight face, she was so obvious.

"There. That should do it. If at any time you wish to stop watching the tapes, all you have to do is stand up and walk out. However, if I come back in and any of the tapes are broken, you must leave and not come back. Do you understand? This is, of course, only to protect myself and my business. Do you have any questions?" He had spoken with authority, forcefully.

Her heart was racing. She could feel the pulse pounding in her throat. Alex shook her head. She had a thousand questions, but couldn't ask them. She could barely manage a nod.

Damon went to his desk and began setting knobs and punching buttons. It was a simple multi-media presentation he was setting up, a mixture of still photos and video clips. He had some difficulty filtering out the harder core folders. On the off chance this girl was genuine, he didn't want to scare her away by exposing her to too much the first time out. As it was, he had a feeling she would be shocked by what she would see.

The center screen came to life. The images that changed every 5 seconds or so showed a beautiful young girl smiling at the camera, lying by a pristine swimming pool. There were a series of poses, gradually more daring as she removed her bikini top, coyly covering her naked breasts with her hands. Damon liked this model because she exuded a joyfulness and impishness that came across on film.

The next model was posing in a kitchen with an apron and heels and little else. Again, her playfulness was obvious and even after the apron had disappeared, there was nothing of her nudity to see. The pictures were risqué, but not pornographic.

The first video showed the first model dancing. The music was haunting and there was no playfulness in the dance. It was, however, sensuous and sexual. The girl's hands slowly caressed her body as she writhed in time to the strong beat of the music. Damon watched the video closely and as she began removing her dress, he moved to another set of still pictures.

Having set a bookmark in the digital video, Damon created a loop of the dancing model up to the point of her shedding the top part of the slinky dress she was wearing. He put that video loop in one of the other monitors and let the loop play continuously. The sensuality of the music added to the 'educational' value of the total experience.

From the first glimmer of light on the screen, Alex had sat as if paralyzed, her eyes riveted to the screens. She had never seen such beautiful women before. It was obvious to her they enjoyed what they were doing, and that they were comfortable with removing their clothing for the camera. Their bodies were perfect, they were young and beautiful. Why shouldn't they take off their clothes and let someone else appreciate their beauty?

Her breath caught in her throat when the video started. The girl moved so gracefully, so easily. She imagined herself moving like that for Harold and what his reaction would be and began, within the limits imposed by the weak tape, to move her body in harmony with the dancing girl. She noticed the first shoulder strap slip off of that smooth shoulder and felt a pang of disappointment when the video was interrupted at that point. When the dancing appeared in another screen, she was torn between watching the swaying graceful movements and the vivid images in the center screen.

After setting up the first couple of loops for the mesmerized girl, Damon sat back and observed the effect of the images on the girl. She was flushed and aroused. The tape strips above and below her breasts had pulled the fabric of the dress tight against her undergarments. There was now no doubt that her nipples were standing erect. Already he could see the track of sweat as it trickled down between her heaving tits.

Her breathing was erratic, especially when she focused on the videos of the girls dancing. She was rhythmically squirming her bottom on the hard seat of the chair, as if she were clenching and unclenching her thighs and groin. He worried about the weak tape and hoped she wouldn't squirm too much and break it. But she appeared to be in control of herself, for now, anyway.

Damon smiled, remembering. The first dancer had been one of his favorite pupils. She had come to him not much more experienced than Alex and had been an eager and willing student. It was only later, when she had acquired a jaded edge that she had betrayed him. She was gone now. Only her pictures remained.

He quickly set up other picture series, some in sequence of the photo sessions with one or two pretty models gradually disrobing and showing tasteful nudity. For later, he prepared some individual random photos to be interspersed with the others of a mildly sexual nature. Mostly these were pictures of two women together, touching, kissing, fondling each other. Then, for near the end, some random pictures of a stronger sexual nature. Sapphic erotic poses, with and without sexual appliances.

There was an audio track that he pulled up, mostly groaning and grunting of exuberant sexual acts, but also some narration of some of the pictures, the models describing exactly what they were doing to one another. There were a pair of small speakers directly behind the girl's head and the volume was set low. She would have to strain to hear it. He could also talk to her through a microphone if he needed to, but he would see how it went. It was a crude system, but in the short time he had it was the best he could do. He hoped it was enough.

The random shots were sprinkled throughout the presentation, hopefully just enough to titillate and tease, to whet the appetite for more but not enough to scare the tender young girl away.

She remained enraptured, absorbing the images like a dry sponge soaking up water. He waited until the first couple of racy random images had been screened. Seeing her total concentration on the screens, Damon silently slipped out a hidden door into the next room where he could monitor her education unobserved while carefully reviewing the tape he had made of their initial meeting. The girl would either leave soon or would be there for hours.

Alex presented him with an interesting situation. He hadn't had a sub in a long time and the need for that special release was building. That she was married was not a problem to him, but an opportunity. He could think of several scenarios that would resolve the situation, all profitable. It depended to a large degree on the husband. What he needed now was information. Most important, was she for real or was she a government agent?

He picked up the telephone and after a moment's thought, dialed a number. The scrambler device was activated and he gave his lengthy instructions to the silent person on the other end of the connection.

Having set the wheels in motion, he took the opportunity to considered the irresistibility of Alex' offer. It frightened him more than a little to think that someone out there might know him well enough to bait him with this girl. It was the most damning evidence against her and, if not for the genuineness of her reactions, would have been immediately fatal for her. To his mind, however, her reactions couldn't have been faked. He would have to watch this girl closely.

Night Shade

Chapter 3