From: "Rogue Alan" <RogueAlan@cox.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Girls' Nightmare Out (Complete - Revised)
Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2003 05:10:03


                         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)

****************************************************************************
WARNING:

This story is fiction, and should be treated as such. The following story is 
for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit 
sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, DO NOT read
any further. If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read it.

This is a copyrighted work. Copyright by Rogue Alan. Reposting or any other
use of it is strictly prohibited without the express, written permission of 
the author, except that it may be posted as part of a review or posted to a 
free-access, noncommercial archive sites.

DISCLAIMER:

All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone, either alive or dead,
is purely coincidental.


Please!      Send me your comments!

Email to RogueAlan@cox.net

****************************************************************************

                                  Part 1



She groaned, aware of harsh light leaking around the curtains into her face,
and rolled to the other side. Her mind registered surprise, her husband wasn't
in bed with her, and a dim awareness of some discomfort. There were aches all
over her body, as if she'd been working out especially hard the day before,
but there was something else. 

She blinked her eyes, looking around the familiar room, brighter than it
should have been in the morning. She checked the clock. It was 11:16! She sat
up, again aware of a strange, almost painful pulling, as the covers shifted on
her chest. She pushed the covers down, and scanned her naked body, her eyes
still bleary with sleep. Something glittered on her breast, at her left nipple.

She was aware belatedly, that the vague discomfort was emanating from there.
She blinked again, struggling to focus, and gasped in shock, it was a nipple
ring! She scrunched back beneath the covers, searching the room, desperate to
know if her husband had seen it yet. How had it happened? She covered her face
and tried to recall the events of the past night. She'd been out with Kathy,
on their weekly 'girls' night out.' She remembered leaving, she'd driven, but
after that... nothing.

There was no other sounds in the house, and she wondered if her family was
gone for the day. She reached for the bedside phone, to call Kathy, maybe she
would have some insight into what they'd done. The shift to sitting, as she
reached for the phone, reminded her of her aching body. Her bladder was
complaining, so she pushed the covers back, and rolled out of be to her feet,
staggering into the bathroom. Her breath caught, as her feet touched the cold
tile floor, and she pranced quickly to the mat by her vanity, looking at her
torso in the mirror, then down at the real thing. 

The bright silver ring entered one side of her left nipple and emerged from
the other side, then dropped in a small loop below the deep pink flesh. There
was a tiny bead at the bottom, she guessed where the ring closed. She was
surprised that there was no blood, and that the pain was minimal, more an
awareness of something different than anything wrong, even when she tentatively
reached up, causing the ring to shift. There was a drop of something clear, and
hard on the bead, and a little experimentation convinced her that it would be
better not to try and remove it, as manipulating the ring hurt, and it didn't
look like the ring was going to come out of the bead very easily. 

Stepping back, she admitted privately that it didn't look bad, keeping her
usually flat nipple, semi-erect, capping her firm, round breast nicely. She
wondered what her husband would say, and what story she would be able to tell
him. Turning to the water closet, she moved onto the mat below the stool, and
sat down on the cold seat, sighing as she relieved herself. There seemed to be
more fluid than usual dripping into the toilet, and she reached down, absent
mindedly moving her fingers through her pubic thatch, which she found had areas
of hair matted together in small tangles, as if she hadn't cleaned up after
having sex.

More shocking though, was that as she brought the toilet paper up between her
legs to wipe herself, she found something hard, nestled between her labia.
Melissa flipped the lights on, and peered down between her legs. She was
shocked again, even more deeply than before, to find a second silver ring
hanging from the mid-portion of her right inner labia. She also noticed the
sparse whitish flakes, coating her inner thighs, and suddenly she felt the
aching and the fullness in her belly taking on a new, horrific meaning. 

She leapt up, turning the shower on, and barely waiting for the water to get
hot, before hurling herself into the tiny stall. She pulled the handheld shower
head off of the wall, to bring the steaming spray to her sex. She washed her
crotch thoroughly, though gently, as the ring in her labia was even more tender
than the one in her nipple. She couldn't bring herself to admit that there
were globs of semen being flushing from her vaginal canal by the hot water. 

She couldn't ask her husband if they'd had sex, desperately hoping that they
had, even if she'd been asleep. Suddenly apprehensive, she climbed dripping
from the shower, and retrieved a hand held mirror from her vanity, then climbed
back into the relative seclusion of the shower stall to check for any other
changes. There were no hickeys, scratches, or other marks, and she heaved a
sigh of relief, though the fear remained, what had she done?! 

She finally climbed out, and was toweling herself dry, when her husband poked
his head through the door. She bit her lip, wondering how he'd react to the
changes.
                                                       
"Fred called this morning. Boy, was he irate. He was sure that Kathy was
cheating on him, he ranted about how she'd said that she was out with you, but
she'd come home with a pierced nipple and another ring in her pussy." he said
smiling, "Damn, hon', I didn't know you had it in you!" 

She paused, trying to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

"You like it... them?"

"What's not to like?" he shrugged, "The younger guys at the office are always
talking about their girlfriends' piercings and things. I guess it's a sign you
enjoy your sexuality, so why should I complain." he grinned, "But how long
before we can..." he moved his hips suggestively, "You know?" 

She smiled in spite of herself. Surely he'd just taken advantage of her while
she was sleeping. She hadn't been above that a time or two, herself. 

"Well, it's a little sore right now, but I'll definitely let you know." she
said, as she dried between her legs carefully, shivering at the morning's 
events. "Um, when did I get in?"

"I dunno. I was asleep. You two were out later than usual though, that's for
sure. And you should see how you parked. I could barely get into the garage.
Maybe you ought to take a cab next time, OK?"

She nodded, as a mixture of relief and anxiety roiling in her stomach. She
could really drink she knew, but she'd never been so drunk that she couldn't
remember things. And she didn't drive when she was drunk, a couple times
they'd taken cabs home, and then had to retrieve her car later.

Jeff gave her a final lascivious wink, then disappeared, and she absently
began to get dressed. As she pulled her panties on, she had a sudden thought,
and hurried to the hamper, fearing what she might find. To her puzzlement,
there were no panties in the hamper. She went through the bedding, looked in
the bathroom, and under the bed, but found nothing. The matching bra however,
was laying beside the hamper.

She dressed, opting after the first contact of panties with the ring in her
pussy, not to wear any, and wisely forewent a bra as well. She assumed she'd
left her panties wherever it was she'd gone to get pierced, and it took only a
moment to decide that she didn't want to call around, asking about them, the
panties were a loss, but she wouldn't worry about them. 

Dressed and feeling almost whole, though aware of the different sensation at
her left breast, Melissa poured herself a cup of coffee, and made sure that
Jeff and her sons were out of earshot, before she wandered into her tiny office,
and picked up the phone. She dialed from memory, hoping that Fred was as
understanding with Kathy, as her own husband had been, about what they'd done. 

He was clearly more uptight than Jeff, which seemed strange, considering that
Kathy was outrageously easy going, compared to herself. The phone rang twice,
as Kathy always waited for the caller ID to identify the caller, before picking
up the phone.

"Mel?"

"Yeah. Um, can you tell me what happened last night?" There was a long pause. 

"I was hoping that you could tell me! Fred nearly shit when he saw... well,
when he saw what I'd done. I can't remember doing it, though!" 

"Me neither. I don't remember anything after meeting you for drinks." 

"I remember a little more than that. The club was no busier than usual. I
remember having a couple drinks, but after that, it all gets hazy. When do you
want to get your car?"

"It's... it's here, already."

"You drove like that? Damn! I can't believe we did this. Did you ever think
about... you know..."

"Getting piercings like this? No way! Jeff laughed, and said that he thought
it was sexy one night when we saw one on a 'night time cable' show, but I told
him that there was no way that I was going to do that. And the second ring...
I can't believe that I let anyone get close enough to do that." 

"I know what you mean. This is scary, Mel."

"That's not the half of it, were you... you know, did you have sex last night?" 

"You mean with Fred?" Kathy's voice was suddenly strained.

"I guess. I don't know."

"I, um, don't remember it, but I did it sometime last night."

"Me too." Both women were silent for several moments.

"Oh God! You don't think..." Mel shook her head, not wanting to even consider
it.

"I can't believe it. I mean, for both of us to... but then I look down, and
who'd have guessed that both of us would... you know."

"I know. What should we do?" Mel considered Kathy's question. Usually her
friend was the one with a plan, the one charging off, without explaining her
idea.

"Well... we could go to the club, ask if anyone saw anything?"

"That's a start," Kathy agreed, "Though I'm kind of scared what we might learn." 

"Better to know." Melissa said, trying to convince herself, as much as her
friend.

"Oh, I also had a receipt in my purse, from the Fine Line Tattoo. There's an
address for the place in the phone book. It's downtown." 

"You're kidding?! That's a long way from the club, there have to be closer
places to get... what we got."

"I know... And you wouldn't believe how expensive it was. $200!"

"Wow," Melissa wondered how she'd spent that kind of money. Jeff made good
money, and she taught elementary school to supplement their income, but that
was a lot to spend on something she hadn't known that she wanted. 

"Tell you what," Kathy sounded more in control of herself, and the situation,
to much to her relief. "you check out the club, and see what the people there
know, and I'll check out this tattoo place. We'll meet for lunch."

She agreed, remembering belatedly the rest of her family was at soccer. She
scrawled a note to her husband that she and Kathy were going 'looking for some
things' and to lunch, grabbed her cell phone and keys, and left. As Jeff had
claimed, her Camry was cock-eyed in the garage. It was parked so badly, that
she had a hard time getting it out of the garage. The seat was farther back
than usual, and she had to readjust the mirrors, as she left their guarded
subdivision, and got onto the highway.

As she drove, she examined the car for any other clues, as to what had happened
Friday night. There were none. She shook her head angrily. Jeff had pointed
out that they usually did their night out during the week, but he and the boys
had gone to a movie, and he hadn't been angry, he just warned her to watch out,
since the crowd on weekends could be 'a little rowdier.' 

She thrust the thoughts that threatened to follow that line of reasoning away,
as she pulled into the little dance club just off of 75th street. There were a
few cars in the lot, even though it was barely after noon. Before getting out,
she completed her search of the car and her purse. She had a receipt, matching
the one that Kathy had described from the tattoo parlor. The barely legible
writing noting 'tit/lip special' and something she couldn't decipher. 

There was also a receipt from a bar that she vaguely remembered as being
downtown. The amount wasn't so impressive, that she'd expect to be blind drunk.
She resolved to visit the strange bar, if she found nothing else first. It
wasn't far from their agreed upon lunch site in the Plaza. 

Inside, the bar was more brightly lit than she remembered. She didn't recognize
the young men working behind the bar, though one of them eyed her for a moment
and nudged his buddy. She blushed, wondering why they were staring, and
hurried beyond the bar to the dance floor, and booths at the back, looking for
someone that she knew.

She saw Erica, a weeknight waitress, filling napkin dispensers, and after
exchanging a somewhat awkward greeting, she haltingly explained that she
and Kathy couldn't remember anything that, they'd done the night before, and
were hoping to find some answers. Erica laughed, saying that she'd been 'at
other bars' the night before, but told Melissa to wait, and walked over to the
guys behind the bar. 

She watched as Erica spoke, and felt a wave of relief when one of the two
nodded. The other said something to Erica, and the waitress shook her head,
talking for another moment, and indicating a height with her hand, she guessed
that she was describing Kathy. Again the first man nodded, while the second
shrugged, but agreed. Erica turned, a strange expression on her face. She
hurried back and motioned for her to sit in the booth she'd been working on.

"Steve and Greg worked the bar last night. They say you and your friend were
in about 9:00."

"That'd be about right." Melissa nodded.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as the waitress' expression was increasingly
worrisome.

"Well, I told them that I thought that they must have been thinking of two
different women, because I know that you're both married, and just come here
to unwind." Melissa nodded in agreement, as Erica shrugged but went on, "They
insist that you had a drink with a guy that they'd never seen before, and a
bit later all three of you left. Greg thinks that it wasn't even 10:00 yet."

She nodded, trying not to show any emotion. She waited, hiding her hands
beneath the table, so that Erica wouldn't see that they were shaking. 

"That's not all they said, is it?" Melissa asked.

Erica blushed, and shook her head. "Nope. They said you two were hanging all
over this guy. They figured he was about to get doubly lucky." 

"They'd never seen him before?"

"Nope. He paid cash, tipped them all right, but not great." she smiled, "In
fact, they said that the only reason that they noticed him, was that he was
black, and was leaving with the two best looking women in the place." 

Something in her expression must have concerned the younger woman, because she
reached across the table, and gripped Melissa's hand gently.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

She managed to shake her head, mumbling her thanks, and telling Erica that
they'd remember her help the next time they were in. The sprightly girl smiled
and said, "Don't worry, you two are some of my best customers."

Melissa tried to smile in reply, as she stood up. She managed not to look at
the bartenders, who were still watching her, as she hurried outside to her car.
Seated behind the wheel, she sat there shaking for several moments, amazed at
what she'd just heard. She and Kathy had left the bar with a black man? It was
surreal. She started to dial Kathy's cell phone, but stopped, resolved to
check out the second bar, the one which she'd found the receipt from. Digging
it out of her purse, she threw some trash, used Kleenex, empty gum wrappers,
and a crinkled black plastic wrapper, to the floorboard.

There was more than a receipt, she realized, there was a matchbook with the
address. She breathed a sigh of relief that nothing was written on the inside.
Clenching the matches in her fist, she turned onto 75th, and a moment later
was headed north on I-35. 

The Edge was a techno club, the latest incarnation in a string of glitzy, but
short-lived theme clubs. The success of the club, Melissa had heard, depended
on its 'varied' clientele, a polite way of calling it a gay bar. So she wasn't
surprised to see both men and women watching her, as she entered the place,
which even in the afternoon was dark, with black lights and dim neon lights
hanging from the ceiling in chaotic arrays. 

She approached the bar, where a bearded man was wiping glasses and hanging
them up on the overhead rack, in preparation for the evening's customers. He
looked at her once, then more steadily, holding a glass in his hand. 

"I thought I told you I didn't want to see you in here, again."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Look, lady. You're a knock out, and so was your friend, and I know we have a
lot of interesting people around here, but you can't behave like you did last
night. I coulda got closed down, and you two shoulda gotten arrested." 

"I'm sorry." she stammered again, blushing fiercely, "I'm just... My friend
and I? We don't know exactly what happened last night. I was hoping that you
could..." The man shook his head.

"I shoulda known. Tried something new last night? Booze ain't enough to get
you up anymore? Well, you waltzed in with this big black guy, had a couple
of drinks, and flirted with the bartenders and waitresses both. That's cool,
we expect that. I don't even mind it when you get up on the tables to dance,
if you're good, and you two were. But I can't have you flashing your tits in
here. And I certainly can't tolerate public sex acts." 

"Public sex acts?" her voice rose in outrage.

"Yeah, that's what I call blowing the guy at the edge of the dance floor. I
swear, condom or not, I can't have that going on in here. It's bad enough when
you people use the bathroom for your quickies..." His tone softened, as he saw
she was trembling, "Look, I don't mean there's anything wrong with what y'all
did, you just can't do it in here like that." She nodded numbly. The bartender
waved the rag and glass he was holding disarmingly, "The guy didn't put up a
fuss, and you left without any problem when we asked you to. So we want you
back... just not acting like that."

She nodded, her voice sounding tiny as she spoke. "Uhm, was there anything...
unusual about the way we were flashing people on the tables?" The guy stopped
wiping the glass, and stared at her, as if he hadn't heard her. She blushed
more deeply, "I mean did you see if we have any strange rings or piercings...
or anything?" The guy shook his head.

"Honey, if you're that far gone, you really need some help. Trust me, this
life will eat you alive." He looked pointedly at her left hand, and her
wedding band, "Go home. Be with your family. Don't let this ruin your life."

Her legs felt unsteady, as she returned to her car, wondering what the man
meant. When he'd spoken, she'd wondered if he knew something that he wasn't
telling her, but he'd seemed honest enough. In reality, what he'd told her,
what he'd seen happen, had her so numb with shock, that she wasn't thinking
clearly at all. She checked her watch, hoping that Kathy would have some
answers.

Lunch at the Classic Cup was subdued. Kathy had her head in her hands over a
cup of coffee, when Melissa sat down. Her friend looked up, and she was
surprised to see that she'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" she asked, with a sudden fear that she didn't even know the
worst of it.

Kathy just shook her head, waiting until the hovering waiter took Melissa's
drink order and then disappeared. Kathy didn't look up as she began to speak, 
"God, Mel. I don't know where to start. We were there last night, and we
weren't alone. There was a black guy with us, according to the guy in the shop
who did this... Can you believe that I let a strange man do... this to my
pussy." She glanced around self-consciously, tables at the Cup were close, but
no one was seated nearby, thankfully. "He said... he told me we'd come in
asking for 'matching work.' The guy with us suggested that we should get clit
rings, but when the guy in the studio mentioned that there was a sale on 'tits
and lips', doing one nipple and one labia ring, the guy said that sounded good,
and we agreed. He showed me where we signed. No waiver or nothing, it's our
signatures."

"Oh God!" she mumbled, aware that her friend was corroborating what she'd
already learned.

"That's not all," Kathy took a deep breath and then continued, "we said that
we wanted 'permanent closures'." 

"What?"

"Permanent closures. Have you noticed that clear stuff on the thick part of
the rings?" Melissa nodded. "That's epoxy, it's like Super Glue. It fused the
ring shut, so that it can only be removed by cutting it off." she said, as she
looked around again, and shivered. "And we also made a down payment for tattoos.
The guy with us said that we 'hadn't decided yet', and that we'd come back in
some other time."

"That's unbelievable."

"I know. I told this guy at the shop that neither of us remembered a thing. He
just shrugged and said that we 'seemed fine' to him. The pig. He laughed that
'our lover' wanted us to get the piercings on the opposite sides, so that he
could 'tell us apart in the dark.' He said that the guy wanted to be sure we'd
still be able to fuck that night, and went so far as to tell me that based on
what was leaking out of us when he 'pinned' us, he figured we'd already 'been
a round or two' in bed." There was a mix of humiliation and defiance in her
expression.

"I asked him how he wasn't surprised that we didn't remember what we'd done,
and he just shrugged, and told me that in his line of work, nothing I could
tell him would surprise him anymore. Then he added that 'at least we'd taken
it outside' before we were all over the guy that we were with. And of course
he refused to refund the money, told me to come back whenever we'd decided
what we wanted and where." 

Melissa broke the subsequent silence, relating what she'd learned, the mention
of oral sex and condoms, though Kathy's words had effectively dashed any hope
that'd been all they did, or that even they had stayed protected. 

The women were silent through much of lunch, each trying to come to grips with
what had happened to them the night before. How could mothers, and devoted
wives get in such trouble, just by going out for a couple drinks. She tried
not to think about what could happen, if her husband ever learned of what had
really happened last night. Or worse, her employer. Kathy was in no better
position. Her husband was less tolerant of anything he considered 'liberal',
and her job as a legal secretary would be in as much danger, if people thought
that she behaved like that routinely.

Looking at her friend, she could see how the bartenders, or any man, might
be interested in a tryst. They regularly turned down offers to dance, as well
as outright propositions. Her friend had the graceful lines of an athlete,
standing 5'10" tall and weighing only 140 pounds. She was a willowy figure who
still managed enough bust, to attract attention, and whose legs and ass even
she found attractive.

Melissa herself was no less fit, both women played tennis and golf in the
summer, and swam at the 'Y' in the winter. Though she was shorter, standing
only 5'5" tall, and weighing just 115 pounds. In contrast to her friend's jet
black bob, and appraising clear grey eyes, Melissa's blonde hair reached down
to the small of her back, and her bright green eyes were more guarded. Melissa
had the larger chest of the two, though neither was top heavy by any standard.
Melissa was tanned, while her friend avoided the sun whenever possible, though
a dusting of freckles was faintly visible on her nose.

Uncharacteristically, each opted for dessert, dragging out the time before
they had to return home to their lives, and the unknown of the night before.
Melissa reluctantly returned to that topic, as she nursed a cup of lukewarm
coffee, while awaiting the bill.

"I can't believe it. I mean, if I could at least remember something." Kathy
nodded in agreement. "But then I tell myself that I don't really want to
remember. I mean, ignorance is bliss, right? We aren't sure that we did
anything." Melissa said, eying her friend. 

"I had dried cum in my crotch this morning Kathy. If it wasn't Jeff's..?" she
swallowed suddenly, unable to finish, then took a breath, "God. I don't know
what he'll do when he finds out."

"Why should he find out?" Kathy challenged. "We didn't try to do anything. We
certainly didn't enjoy it! Don't punish yourself."

"But I."

"You made a mistake. And so did I. Just don't let it happen again." she paused,
"But I agree, I wish I knew how it happened. Did we try something someone gave
us? We had to be drugged somehow, unless it was aliens." she snorted.

Melissa nodded and added, "But that's rule number one, no drinks from strangers.
We never do that!"

Kathy nodded, then shrugged. "So what do we do, now?" she asked her friend.

Though Kathy was only 4 months older, both were 28, she was the decision maker.

"Well, we don't stop our girls' night out."

"But..."

"Look, Mel, if we stop, we won't ever get to start again later. And our
husbands might get suspicious, if we suddenly stop after coming home like..."
she glanced down at her blouse, as if she expected the ring to be visible,
"this. So we'll go to a different bar, or to the movies, or to Barnes and
Noble. I don't care, but I still need some time away from the house."

She nodded, as usual her friend was making sense.

"Just think of the rings and the tattoo as payment for a lesson hard learned
in why we have to be careful." The women paid the outrageous bill, then spent
a blissful hour shopping, before finally returning home to their families, and
the rest of the weekend. 

Over the rest of the weekend, Melissa was almost able to forget what had
undoubtedly happened at times. She adapted to the strange sensations of her
new jewelry, rubbing against her clothes, though underwear remained a no, no.
The time she did spend considering the lost night, she was aware of a nagging
suspicion that she and Kathy were missing something, or forgetting something.
But nothing ever surfaced in her mind.

By mutual agreement, they went to the movies the next week, then sat in a
coffee shop, relating the week's trials and tribulations. A month passed
without any apparent problem. They stayed away from the bar, shopping or eating
out, or seeing 'chick flicks' together. Both women visited their gynecologist
to make sure there was no problem that could be transmitted to their husbands,
using the piercings to delay sex until the results were in. And both were
relieved to get a clean bill of health. It seemed like a potential nightmare
that they'd managed to mostly avoid.



                                     Part 2



The man moved easily through the crowd, attracting no undue attention. He was
a partier among partiers to anyone observing. Bigger than most, certainly, but
even that he minimized, hunching his shoulders forward slightly, 'thinking'
small as it were. He kept a fresh Ginger Ale in his hand at all times, sizing
up the crowd, looking for his opportunities.

Or to follow up on past successes, as he had been waiting to do for more than
a month. Tom was a recruiter of sorts. He found dancers for the clubs downtown,
and even for out of state, and occasionally for out of country clients. For
nearly 15 years, he'd been finding willing young women to go on stage and
expose themselves, for dollar tips, but in the last 5 years, he'd developed a
more specialized, though unadvertised, service. 

He was a man who could 'get' a woman for a buyer. They need only provide him a
list of desired traits, and he would find the woman who fit the bill. And the
woman's willingness to participate in whatever his customer wanted, was
completely optional, thanks to his little friends.

He had used the 'roofies' increasingly, as he carved out his niche, and refined
his methods. At first it'd been procure otherwise inaccessible women for his
own pleasure. But seeing how well it worked, he'd expanded the use to his
business as well. His little helpers had made it possible to stop being a small
time hustler, and hit the big time in a big, albeit hidden, way.

He smiled, considering that in the past 2 years, he'd established the premiere
'escort service' in one city after another. And the girls working for him were
predominantly housewives, women who had fallen into his subtle, but so far
inescapable trap. Their behavior was amazingly consistent, which made his work
easier and less risky than it would seem to an outsider. After a night with
him, during which he made sure that they did outrageous things, the women
invariably tried to ignore whatever had happened to them. None of them ever
seemed to consider that he had their names and addresses, their credit card
numbers and house keys, their grocery lists and day planners, or at least
copies thereof. None of them seemed to consider that he might have done things
to, shall we say, encourage their future cooperation.

Of course, he seldom needed to use the Polaroids anymore, though he never
passed up a chance to snap some incriminating, to the women, though not to
himself, pictures. At his most recent 'home base' the cheap airfares allowed a
more convincing and profitable means of guaranteeing the women's cooperation.
Those fares had also made it easier to keep tabs on the operations that he'd
left still going behind, and to begin to spread his 'services' beyond a single
city at a time. He had several wives in his stable, flying to service out of
town customers each week.

He eyed the crowd in the bar, but not searching for new victims. He was ready
instead to reel in a pair that he'd previously tagged, and so he was looking
for potential trouble. He knew that it was the first time that they'd returned
to the bar since that night, and he smiled again, remembering the evening's
events with a rare fondness, the women were truly talented, if somewhat
uninspired. He fingered the vials of crushed tablets in his pocket, as he
considered his options. He could let them have their evening uninterrupted, or
proceed immediately. His smile returned, no sense in wasting time. He stepped
forward and caught the bartender's attention. 

"What's tonight's special?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Blue Hawaii." the bartender answered.

Tom nodded and held up two fingers, and a $10 bill. A minute later,
he sauntered over to the table where his women were sitting. he already thought
of them that way, were sitting with nearly empty Pina Coladas before them on
the table.

"Hello ladies," he said, having pinched a tray from the server's station, and
uncovered a pin approximating that worn by the waiters and waitresses, and
using a circuitous route to reach them, in order to give him time to add the
healthy doses of crushed Rohypnol to each glass.

"The bartender says that you're regulars." the spiel was easy, so long as no
real waiters happened by, "and this is tonight's special, the Blue Hawaii.
Compliments of the bar," he waved in the direction of the bar, confident that
the bartender was busy, and having waited until their waitress were busy
elsewhere.

"That's OK." the brunette said, clearly intent on refusing the drinks, but he 
waved her off.

"Seriously. Please. You're the prettiest women here. And the folks who ordered
these drinks left. Rick and I can't drink them..." he forced a smile onto his
face, as he used the bartender's name to prove his position.

He was ready to go to plan B, if there was a problem. The pictures were tucked
into his inside jacket pocket, two envelopes with the women's names, addresses,
and other pertinent information hand written on the outside.

Instead, the blonde shrugged, taking one of the drinks from the tray, as she
told him thanks. Her friend, Kathy, soon followed. Waving farewell to them,
Tom turned, ostensibly to return to the bar. He circled near the bar, but away
from the bartender, hiding the poached tray at his side, and flipping his
jacket to hide the name tag at the same time. From the far side of the bar, in
a shadowed corner, he watched as the ladies sipped at their drinks.

This was the risky part, if another man hit on them, after the drug was working,
but before he could get there, they might give someone else a freebie. He
waited, willing himself to be patient, while the women finished their drinks.
The brunette finished first, and Tom took the opportunity to swing by, again
posing as their waiter, the lack of a visible name tag wouldn't alert either
woman any longer. The first night was always harder, he usually had to trail
a waitress, adding the drug to their drinks, when she paused to serve another
group in the crowded bar.

That was the sort of thing that took real timing, so as not to get caught and
to get the marks dosed in good time. But he'd had lots of practice, and that
night it'd been especially easy, when their waitress had paused to jabber with
a friend, leaving her tray on the bar. Then it'd been a simple matter of
watching, until the time was right to sweep in and take control of the
helpless women.

His smile broadened, as he remembered how much fun that evening had been, and
anticipated more such enjoyment. Reaching their table, he checked that their
waitress wasn't nearby or interested, before asking, "Want another Blue Hawaii."

The brunette paused for a moment, as if she was having difficulty understanding
the question, which hadn't really been a question at all. She nodded slowly,
and he smiled and turned away, hurrying back to the bar, where he purchased
three more drinks, dosing each, as he circled the bar, and avoiding the real
waiting staff. He'd popped a pair of Romazicon tabs, an 'antidote' of sorts
for the Rohypnol, while he was waiting for the drinks. There wasn't so much
that he'd get loopy from these drinks, but he wanted to remain completely
clear headed, and he had to get the ladies a little higher, in order that they
would really obey him. Instead of leaving their drinks at the table, as he'd
done before, he sat down beside the blonde, and slid the drinks in front of
each of them, before leaning back to look at them.

"Damn, but you two are really something." he said appreciatively.

The blonde leaned away from him slightly and said, "Look, thanks, but we don't
take drinks from other people." Her words were slurred slightly, as if she'd
had several drinks. Tom knew better, some people were extremely susceptible to
the drug.

He shrugged. "What? You think I drugged these or something? Here..." he said,
as he took a healthy drink from each glass, and then sat back, "Besides, I
already brought you drinks, remember?" Panic sparked behind the blonde's eyes,
but he went on smoothly, leading her off track, "I was your 'waiter' just a
minute ago? I figured that you'd at least let me sit here during my break for
a minute or two."

The brunette eyed him warily but didn't speak. "Look, I saw you two in here
the other day... maybe a month ago. You didn't have a problem leaving with a
black guy that night." he said, dangling the bait, wondering how they'd react.

The women looked at each other, before the brunette spoke.

"You saw us with another black guy?"

"Sure did. I remember thinking what a lucky guy he was." Tom said, as he took
a drink of the Blue Hawaii in front of him, willing the women to do the same.
The blonde seemed terribly thirsty suddenly. Her friend considered him for a
moment.

"You know him? The guy we were with?" 

"Nah... I mean not specifically. I've seen him around, he hangs out on the club
scene, I'd heard that he deals in crank, and some of the other illicit
pharmaceuticals, but I don't go for that stuff, man."

"Would you recognize him if you saw him?" 

"You kidding? I mean yeah, but what's wrong? He stiff you or something?" The
brunette didn't answer, instead she took a healthy gulp of her drink. He
watched, trying to gauge their reactions, then looked around. 

"He's been here off and on the last couple of weeks. He'll swing through, like
he's looking for someone, then leave. I dunno," he shrugged, "maybe he's
trying to pay you back, if he owes you some money."

Neither woman spoke, but they didn't tell him to leave either. Tom nursed his
drink, pretending to swallow any time the women were drinking. Soon their
glasses were empty, and he insisted on sharing his with them. By that time,
neither woman was saying much, spending their time staring blankly ahead of
them for increasingly long stretches of time.

He smiled inwardly, then said, "Hey, I think he's been hanging out at that
place downtown, the Edge. I mean I've seen him there more than here lately.
You should look there. I'll even take you."

As he spoke, he caught the blonde gently by the arm, lifting her out of her
seat. She didn't protest, letting him guide her out of the booth. The brunette
followed docilely behind them. He checked to be sure the waiting staff weren't
paying them any attention, glad again that he usually worked with pairs of
women. It made the people in a bar less suspicious, when it was more than one
woman leaving with him, as well as making the women interdependent, if one
screwed up, they both had trouble. And it was a built in cover for their time
working for him.

He maneuvered them to the shadowed edge of the bar, staying at least partially
hidden until they were safely outside. "Where's your car?" he asked. The
brunette pointed at a late model Jeep Grand Cherokee.

He asked for the keys, which were offered to him without question, then had
them climb in, and donning a pair of well worn leather driving gloves, he got
in behind the wheel, adjusted the seat and mirrors to his liking, and got on
the highway, heading downtown. He turned off though, going not towards the
Edge, but rather north towards the Municipal Airport. The change in direction,
raised no question from the passive women.

There was non-stop service, from a small carrier to Las Vegas, and he had
plans for his latest acquisitions. With his quiet prompting, each woman called
home from the small terminal. He was pleased when they each got an answering
machine, it was easier to simply direct the message they should leave, rather
than manage their end of a discussion. The women dutifully relayed to their
husbands, that Melissa had 'won' a weekend getaway for two, good this weekend
only, and so they had flown out, with each promising their husbands a 'boys'
weekend' soon.

After that, it was a simple matter to get them aboard the small business jet.
Already on board were a few of Tom's 'friends', his steadiest customers. Each
had paid handsomely to help in assuring that the housewives would soon be his
willing, if not eager, whores. He carefully plied both women with spiked drinks,
keeping the level of drugs high enough in their system, that they were quite
docile and obedient, but adding a touch of E, to keep them conscious and prime
their bodies for the coming action. When he told them to strip, after they
were in the air, they did so without hesitation. He already had the camcorder
rolling, being careful not to let any of the men's faces be seen.

The women were soon both standing naked in the narrow aisle, and he had them
turn around slowly, so that he could get some nice closeups of each woman in
all her naked glory. A moment later, he had both women masturbating in
adjacent aisle seats. As he had noted was often the case, the women seemed
mostly lucid while performing. At his urging, off camera thanks to the 'mute'
function, each woman then said for the recording's benefit, "I want to join
the mile high club." And that was the signal for his friends, they quickly
moved in to 'oblige' the drugged women, bending them over the seat arms, and
fucking them hard and fast, doggie style.

The women moaned and groaned at the urging of the men taking them, it didn't
have to be Tom giving the orders. They begged for more when the first men had
cum deep in their cunts, seemingly welcoming the in-flight gang bang that
followed. When every man had enjoyed each of the women once, Tom recorded a
nice bit where they laid down in the aisle, eating each other clean. Then,
shortly before they began their descent into Vegas, the tattoo artist went to
work on them.

The man had demanded that Tom had to pay for the portable equipment when he
had initially approached him with his 'business proposal,' but it had been
well worth it. The guy got a 'free ride' on these flights, but he also provided
advance notice if and when, the women that Tom had 'recruited' were searching
for him, as these two had. And besides, his work was truly first class.

Tom prepped each woman off camera, after which they sauntered to the tiny
'studio' set up in the back of the plane, and casually asked if the artist
would trade them a tattoo for a pussy fuck.

When the artist said, "Sure, what do you want?" the women giggled, as Tom had
told them to do, and said, "This."

Kathy went first, offering the page that Tom had given her. It was a
bastardized version of the mouse, "Jerry", from "Tom and Jerry", leering
suggestively, while holding an oversized erect cock in one hand. All of Tom's
'girls' had that tattoo somewhere, he let the women choose, as addled as they
were when they were being marked.

Most often, his soon to be whores just settled back in their chair, ready for
the agreed upon fuck, and letting the tat be placed down by their pubes. The
occasional, especially willful woman would chose an ankle or back or breast.
Both of his newest recruits obediently reclined in the provided seat, spreading
their legs wide apart, and letting the artist choose where to ink them, before
he balled them. 

Tom always enjoyed the fact that the camera showed him carefully donning latex
gloves, to prevent infection while doing the skin work, after which, he'd
strip the gloves off with a snap, drop down, and plunge his naked cock into
their exposed pussy, sans any sort of protection.

He'd just finished wiping the petite blonde's new artwork off, when the wheels
hit the tarmac, signaling their landing. The men smiled and talked to one
another, aware that they'd get similar treatment on the ride home, but from
more responsive women. For the next day, they were free to enjoy the sites of
the City that Never Sleeps.

Tom's number one rule, to protect his investment, was that the men helping him
to break his new whores in, were not allowed to fool around on the side, as
the last thing that he needed was to get any of his women infected with some
STD. That had been difficult at first, since there weren't many women, but
with almost 45 women now working for him directly, and another seven or eight
dozen where he'd previously set up similar outfits, the men had no end of
available pussy.

He told the women to get dressed, noticing that neither wore any panties, and
was aware that it was likely because of the labia rings, with which he'd begun
their indoctrination. They obediently downed another glass of spiked champagne,
before he led them down the stairs and into a waiting limo, which whisked them
into the city, and a prepared suite.

Once there, he again had them strip. Then he fucked each of them in their
pussies and ass holes, making sure to leave a load in each of them, and
recording it, before collecting their things. He gave each of them another
drink, more heavily spiked this time, which put them out completely, then
spent some time quickly dubbing the tape with his camcorder, and the room's
VCR. He left the rough copy, and a note on the television cabinet. He guessed
they'd call later in the morning, or at least he hoped so, since they had a
full day ahead of them.



                                Part 3



Melissa rolled to her side, groaning as dim awareness surfaced. The room was
completely dark. She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable spot on the
hard mattress beneath her. Something was wrong, though she wasn't sure exactly
what. She blinked, and looked at the red numbers of the alarm clock, 4:00. Her
husband was pressed against her right side. That was strange, he usually lay
to her left. She was trying to figure why she was seeing red numbers, and not
blue numbers on the clock, when she put a questioning hand against Jeff's back,
and found none of the hair that she expected.

With that she quickly became completely awake. She sat up, pushing the covers
down. Even in the dark, it was obviously not her bedroom. Panic clutched at
her throat. She looked beside her, almost against her will, and relaxed
fractionally, when she realized that it was Kathy snoring quietly beside her.
Her friend was naked from the waist up, and she realized with no small
embarrassment she was totally naked. A fragment of memory from the last time
she'd awoken so disoriented made her reach to her crotch and right breast,
fearful of what she would find, but no new rings were in evidence.

Pushing at Kathy's shoulder, she reached blindly for the bed side lamp, and
turned it on. She reached belatedly for the covers to hide herself, but the
room was empty. Kathy groaned, rolling over onto her back, still unaware of
anything, as Melissa ran to the window and looked out, trying to ignore the
now familiar fullness between her legs. She already knew that it wasn't the
squalor of a 'cheater's motel', based on the quality of the furnishing. A
brightly lit city stretched out far below her, but it wasn't Kansas City.

Her breath caught, as she realized where she was. She saw the flickering neon
names lighting 'the Strip', and knew, but couldn't imagine how they'd gotten
to Vegas.

"Melissa?" Kathy asked, as she awoke, and started to realize that something
was wrong.

She sat up, as Melissa turned back towards her, gasping as she looked back at
her friend's naked body. "What's... Oh, God!" Kathy groaned, staring at
Melissa in equal shock, then down at her own naked body.

Melissa eyed her own torso, a sob escaping her throat, as she saw the lewd
teddy bear, no, mouse marring her pubes. She wiped at it, wishing it were
painted on, but knowing better.

"Oh God." Melissa moaned and then asked, searching her friend's face for
answers, "What happened to us?"

"I don't know." Kathy answered, an audible quake in her voice. She glanced
around, stepping to the clothes cabinet and pulling on a robe. She threw a
second one to Melissa, who was already searching the drawers.

"What about our clothes?" Melissa asked in quiet wail.

The women searched the suite, finding none of their clothes, and worse, none
of their other belongings. Kathy saw the video tape first. Melissa had tried
the phone, but the clerk had no idea to whom the room had been checked out to,
or rather would not provide that information, hotel policy the harsh voice
intoned, before the connection died.

Kathy got her friend's attention, and then slid the tape into the player with
shaking hands. The tape hissed to life, showing no fewer than seven men in
what they realized belatedly was a small jet. The camera passed over them
initially at chest height, showing everyone was clothed. The screen went dark,
and a moment later it showed them stripping. Then they were showing themselves
off in front of the camera and the strangers.

Kathy gasped when the tape jumped again, showing her masturbating feverishly,
the sounds of her moans audible through the speaker. She didn't realize that
she didn't yet have the tattoo. Melissa pointed that out softly, as the frame
shifted to show her matching performance on the opposite side of the aisle.
The frame shifted again, and the women heard themselves asking to join the
mile high club, after which there began an endless session during which one
man after another fucked their apparently willing bodies.

Melissa rocked silently, as she watched the first man take her, a heavy set
black man, with a thick, strangely bent penis. After a brief, but intense
coupling he stiffened, thrusting into her fully and saying, "Ahhh, take my
load slut! Tell me how much you like it!" after which she heard her own voice
answer, "I like it. Give it to me."

Melissa stood stiffly and scrambled into the shower, where Kathy joined her a
moment later. The women were relieved that the shower head was detachable, and
douched as best as they could, paying no attention to the fact that they were
doing such intimate activities together. Long after the hot water had run out,
they exited the oversized stall, and after drying off, sat together on the
couch in the main room in front of the TV.

"We have to know." Melissa said quietly, after a time. It scared her how quiet
Kathy was. Her friend nodded stiffly, then picked up the remote. As they
watched the seemingly endless tape, each had to stop it repeatedly at first,
but by the end, they were instead fast forwarding through the intolerable
sections, rather than breaking down in tears. Again, neither had any memory of
what had happened, but the images were more than plain.

"Jeff would leave me." Melissa said, as she took a halting breath, "What
happened to us? Why are we here?"

Kathy shook her head helplessly. "I wish I knew. All I remember is that waiter
with the drinks."

Melissa nodded. "We had the special. A Blue something." 

"That's right." Kathy paused. "Why do I think that he wasn't a waiter?"

Both women sat in misery, their eyes still glued to the screen. The same
disgusting man who'd been the first in Melissa, was finishing in Kathy, and
the brunette nodded at the screen, glancing at her friend, "Fred's sort of...
prejudiced. One look at this, and he'd probably kill me."

"What do we do?" Melissa asked, looking to her friend, who simply shrugged.

"I can't just call home, "Hey honey, I was kidnaped and gang raped, and I
don't remember any of it, but now I'm naked in a hotel suite in Las Vegas with
no clothes or money. Oh, and you know those piercings? You won't believe the
souvenir that I have now." He'd have his lawyer in the kitchen and a
restraining order keeping me from the kids, before he thought about wiring me
any money for a ticket home."

Kathy nodded, her husband's reaction could only be worse. The screen had gone
blank, and the women sat there staring at it for a moment.

"What should we do with it?" Melissa murmured.

"Burn it. But it's only a copy, of course. We're well and truly screwed."
Kathy brooded for a moment, standing abruptly and walking to the window, "It's
like this is a gilded cage, you know? I would've given anything to be in a
place like this with Fred, but this... this is horrible."

Melissa nodded her agreement, starting when the picture cleared suddenly, and
a voice boomed over the TV speaker. 

"Hello sluts!" it said. The camera was on, but it was the cameraman speaking.

They were obviously asleep on the bed where they'd awakened, Melissa's legs
spread and a steady trickle of cum running down her inner thigh. Kathy was on
her stomach, and as the camera panned down, the photographer's cock was
pictured, thrust fully into the brunette's ass. As they watched, he pulled out
for an amazing distance, before slipping free of her pucker, which remained
obscenely open, glistening in the camera's light, where his jism coated her
sphincter.

"Now you know why you're sore there." the voice continued, his smile something
they could hear, as the camera panned back to Melissa, zooming in on her jism
smeared thigh, "and this is mine. You loved it," he added. "You've probably
guessed, that you've been quite naughty girls in the last 12 hours. I'd guess
you've had more men than either of you had before you were married." He paused
for effect. Melissa shivered, Jeff had been her only, until... She glanced at
Kathy, who nodded and held up three fingers.

The voice continued. "I'll bet that you're wondering how you got here? I'd
tell you, but then you'd be tempted to use this tape in a way I don't want it
used, so when you're ready to talk, just dial 1578, and ask for Tom, that's
why little Jerry is there by your nice little pussies, so you'll remember who
I am. I'll stop by after you call. And I wouldn't try to leave if I were you,
there are better copies of the tape, as well as some other pictures..." the
camera panned to the bed beside Melissa's naked flesh, and several Polaroids
were held out, so they could see images of each woman sucking and fucking the
same gigantic erection, sans condom, in Melissa's car, "So if you try to get
home without money, and wearing the hotel issued robes, you'll still have some
explaining to do. I especially like what you say on the video, though that
can't be faked, can it?"

The screen went to static, and Kathy walked back over, turning the tape off
with a vicious jab.

"That arrogant fuck! He thinks he can do this to us and get away with it." The
tirade died, as she realized how badly off they were. Melissa was sobbing on
the couch, and after another moment, Kathy went to comfort her friend. When
Melissa had regained some control, Kathy stood up, and moved towards the
telephone, paging through the binder lying beside the phone. When she picked
up, Melissa gasped.

"What are you...?" but Kathy held up a finger, to quite her, and then calmly
asked for soft drinks, bottled water, Caesar salads, and two of the
tremendously expensive entrees. She hung up and smiled.

"The least we can do is enjoy the amenities, before we see what that prick
wants."

Melissa couldn't hide her smile, though she wondered if they would pay for it
in the end for that act of defiance.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" Melissa stated.

Kathy nodded, then shrugged. "Who knows... maybe he wants industrial secrets
from our husbands or something." both women smiled in disbelief. Kathy patted
Melissa's bare knee and added, "Let's just wait and see what he says."



                                 Part 4 



Dwayne had expected the call to be later, and wondered how or why the women
had gotten up when they had. He'd placed a 6 AM wake-up call, and the ringing
of his own phone at just that time had confused him for a moment. Instead, an
angry but subdued female voice had said, "We're ready." and had hung up.
Nothing more.

He got up, checked that he'd left nothing to identify himself in the room,
then left, turning and walking away from the elevators toward the far suite,
where his new 'girls' had been installed. One of the perks of his job was
comp time at several of the casinos, which aided in his 'recruiting efforts.'
Vegas might be advertising itself as a family vacation spot, and might openly
oppose 'working girls' on the floors and in their rooms, but they still wanted
to claim to service every vice, it wasn't a coincidence that Capone and his
cronies had built the city.

Dwayne made himself valuable to members of the mafia, the Yakuza, the Russians,
Czechs, Poles, Columbians, and increasingly, the Arabs. The latter, while not
necessarily crime families, held women in different regard than the people of
Europe, North America, and even much of Asia. And like the casino owners, he
had yet to meet a top echelon businessman who wasn't a ruthless son of a bitch.
Most of them were more than ready to sully another man's wife for a little
personal enjoyment.

He didn't bother knocking, but rather let himself in with the key card, stepping
into the room, as if he owned it, which was the case. The women were sitting
on the couch, talking quietly to each other. Dwayne often found his women
thought that they were being constantly watched, which would have been
impossible, in a suite occasionally used by Royalty, but the illusion was a
handy one. He stopped, selecting a bottle of Jack Daniels from the servi-bar
before sitting across from them. He casually threw a boot up onto his knee,
and took a hit of the Jack, waiting for the women to speak.

"What are we doing here?" the brunette asked as she flipped her hair angrily,
though the effect was comical, considering that she was sitting there in just
a hotel robe.

"You're my guests, of course." He smiled, "Well, that's not exactly true.
Let's just say that you're now my employees. You provide a service, and I
provide you with clothes, money, exotic vacation spots, and anonymity."

The blonde shuddered, clearly trying to suppress a sob. The brunette patted
her friend's knee and considered for a moment.

"Our husbands will be looking for us." 

"Is that all you're worried about?" he asked, and smiled more broadly, "I
forgot to include it on the tape, but you each made a nice phone call to the
machines at your home. You told your other halves that you won a weekend
getaway to Las Vegas. This morning, a courier will provide them with bland,
nonspecific details, though I'm afraid you won't be able to get any direct
calls out to them. If things go well, you can call them this evening."

"What do you mean, if things go well?" she countered, then added, "How did
you get us here?"

He smiled and said, "Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" He settled back in
his chair, "What do you remember?"

"Nothing." Melissa murmured, staring at the blank TV screen.

"From before, of course," he nodded, "But this isn't the first time." Neither
woman answered so he continued, "I know about the last time you lost a night.
I was there when you got those lovely matching piercings. All my girls have
them." Melissa went stiff at that, and Kathy's eyes blazed. 

"You were the one."

"Of course. I took you out on the town. You two were quite the hit, too. I had
all sorts of offers and propositions. Of course, I thought that it was only
fair to have you show yourselves off to your admirers, and you were quite
willing to do so. You even put on a wonderful public fellatio exhibition,
sharing me in a display that none who were there will ever forget."

Both women flushed as he continued.

"But I realized that there was something missing, there was no glitter when
you showed off your nice titties to the crowd. So we went to fix that. You
were quite the hit there, as well, I assure you."

"That pig... fucked us?" Kathy was clearly horrified.

"Of course, but not that night. He enjoyed that in payment for his services
tonight. No, I was the only one who had you that night. first with a condom in
the bar, then without one, once each, outside the bar, before we went to the
tattoo parlor. And then a second time each afterward, christening the new
jewelry, if you will. I drove you home, then got out of the car on Melissa's
street, telling her to be careful getting home." He smiled, "I'm sorry you
don't remember our fucking. You enjoyed it, I assure you."

"And tonight? If it's still tonight?"

"Oh yes, Saturday morning to be exact. I waited and waited for you two to
return on a Friday night." That was a lie, he'd followed them frequently in
the intervening weeks, but it didn't hurt to withhold some information, "So I
could reacquaint myself with your many charms. I happened to know of a jaunt
to Vegas, and you were more than willing to go, even when I mentioned that the
price was... shall we say, 'servicing' the guests in flight, and doing a few
tricks while you were here." 

"I don't believe you."

"You have no reason to believe me, I agree. Though I suspect that after seeing
that tape, the police would agree with me. But I will tell you what really
happened." he paused, as both women looked at him. "I drugged you. Have you
heard of Rohypnol? Roofies? It's a sedative, like Valium, except that those
who are using it can move and speak, act as if they're not asleep. And it's
users are more susceptible to suggestions. It made it child's play to do
whatever I wanted to do with you." he said, shifting in his seat, while letting
them think about that.

"Of course, I had to be careful at first, as I couldn't do what I planned,
without your husbands getting some clues. So I was testing things, you see.
Since they've shown that they can handle change, and a little of the unknown,
it's time to get you broken in and placed in my stable." Another lie, he'd
have used them regardless of what their husbands did, but they needn't to know
that.

Kathy had leaned back at the word 'stable.' "Ah, I guess you're familiar with
that term. You're right, I sell women's bodies to men for their use. And
sometimes for women to use as well. I provide women for strip clubs, bachelor
parties, porn shoots, weekend 'escort' services. I even have a select clientele
looking for just the right woman to make their rich, pampered wives, but then
you're already married, so that's not why I've brought you here." Another lie,
as most of those he sold to the Arabs, left a puzzled husband behind.

"So you expect us to... work for you? As whores." 

"Whores is such a nasty word. I consider you call girls. I call, and you two
come, or you'll be whoever I tell you to be. Consider the alternative. I
imagine that your husbands wouldn't understand that you didn't mean it, when
they hear you asking total strangers to fuck you. Or when they see how you
calmly traded a fuck for a tattoo. Imagine what the school board would think
Melissa, or the fine people at Hammonds, Hammonds, and Bach,  Kathy? Your lives
would be ruined." He shifted again.

"But, on the other hand, you do what I ask, and I don't impose that often, and
you'll get to live out experiences that few women enjoy. You might find out
you yourselves enjoy it, those orgasms weren't chemically induced, you know.
Science can't do that yet."

The women blushed appropriately, once again. "For now," he continued,
"consider this as your probationary period. I don't want you trying to run to
the police or your husbands. I've taken steps to assure that either course
would lead to your humiliation, and likely wouldn't touch me, both of those
things I truly want to avoid. And for now I have your clothes and your other
things. After you've done your work for me, you'll get those things back,
along with the return ticket for the plane leaving tonight. You can be home
and in bed by 3AM, and even catch a show tonight before we leave."

"What work?" Melissa asked, clearly knowing the answer.

Dwayne shrugged. "I know a couple of high rollers who are at this hotel. They
asked for attractive white ladies to spend some time with. I imagine that
they'll want to fuck you. The ground rules are simple, They can do nothing
that hurts you or scars you. They must wear a condom for any penetration, but
you cannot refuse any activity, or the other rules are null and void, as well.
They'll probably arrive here in your room in about an hour, after they hit the
breakfast buffet. 

"Then you'll have some time to yourselves. About noon, the magician who works
here will visit you. Again, you're both to provide whatever he asks, and he'll
obey the rules. After he leaves, you'll get a visit from me, just to make sure
you've each enjoyed yourselves before you attend the show of your choice. Then
it's a simple matter of boarding the plane for the ride home."

"Where we'll be expected to service your friends," Melissa finished.

He eyed her as he replied, "Yes, but then you've already been with them,
haven't you?" She blushed.

"But they don't, uh, didn't use condoms."

"No. And neither do I. I have a morning after pill for each of you, but after
this, you'll be responsible for how you keep yourself barren. You'll find that
my friends and I use you as God intended, no barrier between us. They're clean,
I make sure of that, as I don't want to catch anything either. Trust me, you'll
find that it's not that bad. The magician usually cums inside of ten minutes,
then spends the rest of his time tying you up and examining ways to escape.
The high rollers, well, let's just say that they are intent on pleasing the
ladies. I really do want you to be happy while doing your jobs. I'll use you
if you aren't, but I think you'll find that enjoying the sex makes putting out
much easier, and since there are no strings attached, it can be liberating."
He didn't really believe that, but saying it didn't hurt.

Kathy shook her head.  "We're your... mares indefinitely?" 

"Bitches, actually. The group is called a stable, and I'll hire you out to
'studs,' but you're not a mare. You're a bitch. Sorry. What did you have in
mind? I have almost three hours of footage here, that you wouldn't want anyone
to see, plus the Polaroids, plus the charges for your room and meal here. Even
the trip back can't put a dent in that level of debt." 

"Then what?" Kathy challenged, "How long?"

"You want a duration? I mean, I could keep you for just a week, but if I turned
you out for a gang bang video you'd have more cock in one day, than you'd take
working for me routinely in a year. So I don't think you want us to base your
service on time. I prefer to work on a quota system. You do everything and
everyone, that I tell you to do, without a complaint, and after ten tricks, 
one picture goes away. Or 6 minutes of film. I figure that's about forty items
to balance, so you do 400 tricks for me, and then you'll be in the black," he
smiled at the pun, "Any work you choose to do then, earns you real money. And
it's good money. I have 2 girls who left their husbands, to work for me full
time, living better than they did before." That was true, although both
husbands had been total losers. 

"You do what I ask, and I take care of you. No one finds out about you, and
this..."

"Unless we're arrested, or meet someone who knows our husbands." Kathy
interjected bitterly.

"Oh no! We screen for that, and since you won't be standing on street corners,
or picking up Johns in bars, the police issue isn't a concern." Yet another
lie, but plausible to women unused to life outside of the suburbs. The women
looked at one another, and he let them think about it, before dropping the
last bomb.

"It's up to you two. But if you refuse, I can guarantee that your husbands
will find out what you've already done, before you can arrange airfare back,
and you'll have to settle this," he looked around the room, "$1,200," he
paused, examined the serving cart, "maybe $1,400 bill, as well."

"But these count toward the 400?" Kathy seemed to be getting in line with the
program. He shook his head.

"Not my friends, of course, you've already had them. But those you'll see here
in the room do? Tell you what. I'll even count myself as a John today."

"And it's 400 between us?" Melissa looked at him hopefully.

He smiled, sure that she was used to getting whatever she wanted with those
eyes and pouting expression.

"Oh no honey," he shook his head, "that's 400 each."

"What happens when we get back?" Kathy asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just call you periodically, when I have some work for
you to do. I understand that sometimes you can't do a job because of scheduling,
but if you refuse more than twice in a row, I add 5 to your balance of cock. I
think that's fair. Besides, you 2 have it worked out so that at least one
evening a week you can turn a trick or two, without your husbands ever
suspecting a thing. Just doing that, you could be done working in a couple
years."

Melissa was shaking visibly, as Kathy hung her head.

"I guess we don't have any choice."

"Oh, you have other choices, but they're bad ones. Say you stay here on your
own, you'll be stripping and tricking within a week, and not with someone as
nice as me watching out for you. Try to go home, and you'll find your friends
consider you wanton sluts. They wouldn't trust you with the family dog. And
your husbands?" He opened his hands in mock welcome, "You're mine, girls. But
at least I want you to enjoy yourselves, and I'll look out for you." he said
as he stood up, "I guess that's about it. I'd better go, so you two can get
ready."

"Wait!" Melissa exclaimed in shock, and he turned around. She was crying openly,
tears staining her pretty face. "W, what if I can't... do this?"

He reached into his pocket, and withdrew two bottles taped together.

"I have these, if you think that you'll need them." he began, taking one of
each of the tablets, "This is Valium, it'll help you relax and go with the
flow." then he held up the other one, "Take this just before you start to fuck,
and you'll find that you'll enjoy it more."

Kathy refused to take the offered tablets, but after a moment, Melissa held
out her hand. He poured 3 more of each onto the counter.

"There's enough for both jobs, including for you, Kath, if you change your
mind."

Kathy's head snapped up at his name for her. He smiled, "I have to have pet
names for all my girls. Which reminds me, if you get a call from Tom at the
office," he looked at Kathy, "Or from Thomas at school, I expect you to take
the call. Saying you're not home in hopes of avoiding me will bring penalties."
He eyed each, then left, whistling as he closed the door behind him.



                                Part 5



Kathy paced the room, trying to ignore Melissa's huddled quaking form, as she
looked for any way out of their predicament. She'd considered hiring real call
girls to do the work for them, but that wouldn't work for Tom, or the flight
back. She shuddered herself, at the thought of the flight back. She'd been
with other men before her husband, and didn't think a one on one situation
would be impossible to accept, they'd be using condoms, after all, but a group
of men, none of them using condoms, from the images that she remembered of
herself on tape were enough that she eyed the pills, still sitting on the
counter.

Melissa didn't said a word after Tom had left. She just rocked for a long time,
but when Kathy glanced over, she saw her friend had become totally still,
though she was still crying. Kathy suspected that if Melissa wasn't cleaned up
when the men arrived, they'd both see what sort of punishment that Tom could
dole out. She took a glass of juice from the breakfast tray, and took it over
to her friend.

"Here, hon, take this. You have to get yourself together."

"Or what?" Melissa sniffed. 

"Or it could get worse."

Melissa looked up and blinked. "How could it get any worse?"

Kathy sighed. "Look, we've already fucked him. Or at least, he's fucked us.
And all those other guys. This isn't a problem. These guys have to use condoms.
But if we don't do what he wants..." as she let the statement hang.

Melissa took the first of the tablets that Tom had left for them, and within a
few minutes, she had calmed down considerably. So much so, that when there was
a knock at the door, she got up to answer it, instead of Kathy, who was
suddenly unsure that she could do what was expected. 

When Melissa opened the door, she gave a small squeak. Looking up, Kathy could
see why. Neither of the men standing in the doorway was less than 6'2" in
height. One was significantly overweight, while the other had acne scars and
the look of a used car salesman. The heavyset man was Hispanic, while the other
man was white, and she guessed that he was pushing sixty. Both men eyed the
women, in their borrowed robes, then smiled, as they confidently entered the
room. 

"Thomas tells me that we get to enjoy a remarkable first tonight ladies,
you're first extra-marital sex for pay." the older man said, smiling, as if he
had expected them to join in.

Kathy eyed the pills, suddenly wishing she'd taken her's. The Hispanic man
lumbered in behind his friend, who was already holding Melissa's hands up over
her head, and openly appraising her body. As Kathy watched, he reached down
with one hand, opening her friend's robe, even before the door behind his
friend was fully closed. Melissa stood there unmoving, letting him do what he
wanted. The Hispanic man lumbered toward her, his bad teeth grinning at her.

"Let's see what you have." he rumbled, reaching for the knot on her robe,
while he was still three feet away. Trying to avoid his touch for as long as
possible, Kathy reached down, releasing her robe for him. He smiled more
broadly.

"So willing, eh, Stephen?"

"Oh yes." she heard the other man answer, "I think these two will do wonders
for Thomas' stable. I may ask for them by name."

Her 'John' had closed the distance sufficiently to grasp her open robe, and
Kathy managed to look at him, as he eyed her naked body. 

"Such a waste, these tattoos, but the rings," he smiled, showing his green
tinged teeth, a gold cap on one upper incisor, "I like these, no?"

He moved his hand, flipping the ring on Kathy's right nipple up, then rubbing
the semi-erect nubbin. Kathy gasped, eyes closing, as she let herself be
touched by a total stranger. He turned after a moment, bending over to lick
and suck on her nipple, as his hand moved to tease the ring in her labia,
before moving gently over her clit. And despite her wish to the contrary, she
felt herself beginning to lubricate.

Her head was back, and her eyes closed, when the man moved up to kiss her neck,
and then higher, bringing his mouth to hers. She tasted cigars and alcohol on
his breath, and let his tongue push into her mouth, as his finger relentlessly
worked her clitoris, forcing it to become erect, as the signs of arousal shot
throughout her loins.

When he broke the kiss, he slipped his finger down, into her moistening cleft,
hooking the finger up against the front wall of her vagina. It was as if he
knew exactly where to touch her, a place that her husband had never found,
that she hadn't known existed before. Her breath caught, and he chuckled,
aware of her response. 

"Shall we retire to the bedroom, Stephen?"

There was a pause, then, the other man answered. "I think she's ready for
that."

Kathy glanced over at her friend, who was leaning against the wall in the
entryway, her legs spread wide, her robe on the floor beneath the man taking
her. He was kneeling between her legs, lapping at her pussy. As the Hispanic
man led the way into the bedroom, his finger still hooked into Kathy's wet
cunt. He skimmed 2 of the pills from the counter, deftly flipping one to the
man that he called Stephen, while holding the second one out to Kathy.

"Take this, Morena," he intoned, "You will find it more enjoyable that way."

Kathy did as he said, reluctantly letting him lead her by her pussy to the
king sized bed. Still tickling that inner spot with his finger, he gruffly
told her to open his pants, while he unbuttoned his shirt with his free hand.
She did as he'd ordered her to, reaching around his girth to push the pants
down, and straining briefs toward the floor. His erection was modest, maybe 7"
at most, and was nearly hidden by the heavy paunch of his abdomen, but from
where she sat on the bed, it was quite visible. 

"Suck it." he told her, and she leaned forward, wishing he'd left his fingers
inside of her, but he couldn't while standing over her as he was. His hands
caught her head, pulling her firmly against his crotch, then releasing her
after a few seconds. She backed off, and then pressed forward again, sucking
and swirling her tongue, pausing abruptly to back away and gasp, "Condom!"

She couldn't believe that she'd actually started to suck him, without making
him wear one. The man sighed.

"Well, it was worth the try, no?" he said, as he reached to the drawer of the
night stand, obviously used to Tom's arrangements, and extracted a black plastic
square, "Of course you'll do the honors, right chica?" he intoned.

She nodded, taking the package and opening it. As she moved to roll it onto
his erection though, he stopped her.

"Use your mouth." Kathy opened her mouth to protest, but he motioned with his
hand, "Yes, I know, but try."

She did, trying to ignore the latex taste, as she put the rolled condom into
her mouth. She arranged it, and then brought her mouth down to his swollen
glans, trying to unroll the condom with her teeth and lips. She had to back
off once, reversing the condom in her mouth to allow it to unroll, but the
second attempt was successful, if not exactly smooth.

"Very good!" her John praised her, pulling her face against his crotch again.

After another moment, Kathy had again found her rhythm, and was working at his
cock, hoping to get him off quickly, and avoid having to let him fuck her. As
she backed off for a breath, she glanced over, wondering what was happening to
Melissa. Stephen had stripped, as he'd followed the petite blonde into the
bedroom. He stopped, selecting a condom from the drawer on the opposite side
of the bed, and rolled it over his blood filled shaft, all the while keeping
Melissa turned away from him, toward the bed. He knew that she was wet enough
for him to fuck her, but wanted to give the pill that she'd taken time to work,
and knew that watching her friend, would also have an effect on her, as would
not being able to see him.

Naked and sheathed in Trojan's finest, he pressed his body against her's,
delighting in the way she shivered, and reached around to tease both of her
rings, as he joined her in watching his friend getting sucked off. The brunette
had reacted visibly to Paulo's manipulation of her G-spot, and true to his
friend's word, hadn't asked for a condom, before she willingly began to suck
at his shaft.

Stephen sighed, that was $50 he owed his friend, they bet on everything. The
tiny blonde before him was writhing, as his finger slipped up her cleft to
massage her clit, to make sure that she was ready as well. He gently pushed
her forward at the waist, then spread her cheeks, exposing her pink seam to
his gaze. It glistened with her juices, the silver glint from the labia ring
beckoning. He set his cock head against her parted labia, and then slid it
down through them, over her clit, smiling, as the tiny wife arched her back
and stifled a moan in response.

He teased her again, then tilted his pelvis, slipping easily into her velvet
tunnel. Melissa whimpered softly, and he paused, then pressed forward when she
pushed back at him. Whether it was the high stakes aspect, or something else,
he'd never found any sex as enjoyable as taking other men's wives. A moment
later he was balls deep in the pretty blonde, and began stroking in and out of
her, and reaching around to tease her ringed nipple and finger her clit, as he
did so.

Within two minutes, she was groaning, as she came from the stranger's shaft
fucking into her frothing pussy. She knew it was wrong, and knew she should be
resisting. But it felt so good, and she wanted more. The word escaped her
throat in a low moan, and in response, Stephen caught hold of her waist, and
truly began to pound into her.

Kathy had looked over just in time to see her friend's unconscious submission.
As she watched, Melissa turned her head to one side, pressing it against the
mattress, her eyes closed, and her mouth open in obvious ecstasy. Kathy barely
registered that the man using her mouth had pulled away, and let him guide her
back onto the bed, leaving him between her spread thighs. She gasped, attention
returning to her own swarthy John, as he set his swollen cock head against her
pussy, rubbing it up and down. The sensation was electric, more powerful than
she remembered it being when Fred was mounting her. She bit her lip at that
thought, even as the stranger slid easily into her. She tried not to enjoy it,
tried not to compare it to what she received at home. But by the second stroke,
her body was moving, knees dropping wide, while her pelvis tilted up to welcome
his thrusting cock into her.

She came hard, as she heard Melissa gasping that she was cuming as well. Time
seemed to move slowly. The man fucking her so wonderfully pulled out, laughing,
as she tried to pull him back into her. He said something to his friend, who
nodded and pulled out of Melissa, eliciting a similar response. Anxious to
feel him back inside of her, Kathy watched as the other man spun Melissa
around, and pushed her gently back so that their heads were beside one another.
Melissa was rubbing her pussy openly, as she thrust her hips up against her
own fingers, and Kathy realized absent mindedly, that she was doing the same
thing.

The men moved up between their wide splayed thighs, teasing them with their
condom clad erections, slapping them down against the women's clits, and
running them through the women's flowing pussies, until they were both wantonly
begging the men to fuck them. She watched her lover, as he smiled down at her,
teasing her relentlessly. Her entire focus was directed on her need for sexual
release. Rubbing against her buzzing clit, the man above her leaned down and
said something. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't understand,
but all that escaped was a moan.

He smiled, and asked again, "Do you want this inside of you?"

She nodded, bucking up at him anxiously.

He shook his head and said, "No, I don't think you really want it. You're just
a whore trying to get me off, so that you can go on to your next John."

She shook her head, her fingers pinching her pierced nipple and rubbing at her
pussy, desperate to get him back into her. He pressed against her sex,
thwarting her attempt to grasp his shaft and draw him in.

"Do you really want it?" he asked again, smiling at her emphatic nod. "You
need it, don't you? You need to feel my cock inside of you."

A tear appeared at the corner of Kathy's eye, but she nodded emphatically. She
did need it.

"Then I can take the condom off, can't I?" he asked, as he sawed against her
clit, waiting for her answer.

She hesitated, and then nodded her head slightly.

He nodded and said, "You don't want me to cum inside of you. I understand, and
I won't. I'll pull out. You know you need it. Tell me that I can take it off."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, looking down in embarrassment, as she
nodded her agreement. He smiled more broadly, looking over at Stephen, who'd
already stripped bare, and was driving his bare cock into the petite blonde
with gusto. Her ankles were crossed behind his back, spurring him on into her.
He smiled, there was no way that his friend could pull out, even if he'd wanted
to, but that was one of the things Tom had wanted them to do, something about
teaching the women a lesson. Whatever the reason, he didn't care. He started
to thrust into her, but paused, still teasing her wet opening, as he held her
eyes with his. 

"Remember, you need to tell me that I can do it." he reminded her.

"Tttake it off." she groaned.

He shook his head, still rubbing his cock gently over her steaming sex, as he
replied, "No, you take it off."

Her eyes went wide, but a second later she reached down, her fingers scrabbling
over the latex surface to the rolled edge. She pulled it off quickly, her hand
immediately returning to the root of his cock, as she pulled him towards her,
and into her cunt. He rewarded her by sliding himself in fully, pressing in
and up as he did, grinding his pubic bone against her clit. She stiffened
beneath him, a panting whine escaping her lips, as she orgasmed instantly. He
then set a steady rhythm, fucking in and out of her with long strokes.

Melissa could barely think straight. She'd cum more times than she could count
after they'd started, but when he'd moved over her, and started to tease her,
she'd thought that she might die, if she didn't get more. He slipped into once,
then again, before holding himself outside of her pussy, and telling her that
the only way he'd fuck her, was bare back. She hadn't understood him at first,
and then he'd told her what that meant. That he wouldn't fuck her with the
condom on. She'd tried to shake her head no, but he'd laughed, as he ran his
shaft through her wet slit again, without pushing it into her, and avoiding her
best efforts to get him inside of her again. When he'd asked her again, she
nodded, she'd do anything, to feel him inside of her again. He stripped the
sheath off, making her beg for it, before he thrust back into her, driving his
shaft balls deep into her cunt, and fucking her hard and fast, quickly giving
her the release that she craved.

Inside of a few minutes, she'd cum again, even more powerfully. Without
thinking about it, she'd locked her heels behind his waist, and pumped her hips
up to meet his every thrust, reveling in the sensation, the endless pleasure
he was providing her. Any thought of her husband, or Kathy, was lost to the
overwhelming pleasure that she was feeling. She was no longer the wife and
loving mother being forced to perform, but an eager sexual creature, craving
the sensations.

Then the tempo changed, and became disjointed. She was aware of him grunting
and panting over her. And then his body went stiff. He'd held himself against
her, buried fully inside of her steaming box. She felt the first blast of his
climax, as it spattered the inner walls of her pussy. Dimly she knew it was a
mistake, he should have pulled out, but it was too late now, and she couldn't
hope to unlock her ankles, much less push him out of her in time to do any
good.

Her feet fell to the mattress, and she tried weakly to stop the inevitable.
Even as she shivered in yet another orgasm, from the sensation of his load
pulsing into her. Paulo had taken his time fucking Kathy, giving her time to
feel the way his body covered her's, his belly touching the mattress on either
side of her narrow waist, and nearly engulfing her chest. The weight pressing
down on her, locking her into place, was a strange sensation, but it only
built her excitement, as if a large tongue was pressed against all of her at
once. She tried not to lose track of what was really happening, that she'd
been forced to have sex against her will, but that became clouded, as she came
again and again. She heard Melissa panting and moaning beside her, and knew
that she was experiencing the same undeniable pleasure, which eased the guilt
that lurked at the edges of her consciousness. 

The man between her legs was too large for her to spur on with her heels or
hands, leaving her spread eagled, passively accepting his every thrust and
lunge. She'd just cum again, when she felt him thrust himself against her
harder, holding himself deeply inside of her. She gasped, aware of what was
going to happen.

"No!" she groaned, pushing uselessly at his chest. He didn't even seem to
notice, except to laugh out loud, as he exploded deep inside of her pussy,
again and again.

"You promised!" Kathy sobbed, beating against his chest. He didn't move until
he'd finished. Even when he did pull out, it was only to move his bulk over
her pinioned body, until his glistening cock was in her face.

"Suck it clean slut." he growled, and a suddenly frightened Kathy did so
without any thought of hurting him. He laughed when she finished, climbing off
of the bed and gazing at her sprawled, naked body.

"Mm, mmm." he nodded, "You are one fine piece of ass."

Kathy was shaking in terror and exhaustion, as she tried to cover herself, but
they'd fucked on top of the comforter, and her robe was lost on the floor. She
sat up, aware of his jism running out of her pussy, as she bent over to
retrieve the terry cloth robe. She stood, putting more distance between herself
and the leering John.

"You said... you said that you'd pull out." she stammered, vaguely aware that
the other man had just pulled his wet, naked dick from her friend's pussy, as
well. Melissa lay there, panting on the bed, still oblivious to what had
happened.

"Didn't he tell you not to trust the Johns? Part of your job is getting the
condom on and keeping it on." Melissa's 'date' answered.

"Don't worry, chica." the man who'd just emptied himself inside of her chuckled,
"We're clean." He nodded appreciatively, "You were good, chica. I may ask for
you the next time that I'm here." He smiled more broadly, "Though you wouldn't
just get to lounge around up here. You'd have to work the tables with me, but
that's for next time, eh Stephen?"

The second man was pulling his pants on, eyeing the brunette with obvious
desire. "I don't suppose we have time to switch, do we Paulo?" he smiled that
fake charming smile, and Kathy shuddered, wondering how she and Melissa could
have ever been so stupid.

The flow of semen down her thigh was a constant reminder of what she'd let him
do to her, not what their pimp had forced her to do. She sniffed, ignoring the
men and hurrying to the bathroom, intent on cleaning up.

"Thank you ladies! It was our pleasure!" the man called Stephen laughed, as
they sauntered into the suite's front room. Kathy heard the front door open
and then close. She stopped, suddenly worried that Tom might have yet another
surprise in store for them. She went into the sitting area, and was relieved
to see that the men had indeed left. She put the safety bolt in place, then
went back through the bedroom and into the bathroom, letting her friend nap.



                                  Part 6


Melissa woke with a start when Kathy roused her, then rolled onto her back,
groaning, as what she had done finally struck home. She reached down between
her legs and winced, as she felt the cooling strands of jism matting her pubes.
She sat up, feeling even more semen ooze from her recently used sex, and
looked up at Kathy.

"I... I let him take it off, didn't I?"

Kathy nodded, and replied, "I did too. I think that's what Tom wanted. A way
to remind us that we have to stay in control or something. At least, that we
have to be careful."

Melissa nodded, blinking back tears. "I think it was better when I woke up
not knowing what I'd done."

Wrapping her arms around her torso as she stood, she weaved her way to the
bathroom stark naked. It occurred to Kathy that they'd both already been
changed by their experience, her friend had once gone to great lengths to
avoid exposing her body to anyone, her included. She wondered if the changes
would be as obvious to their families, and if so, what their husbands would
think. The thought that she might endure such humiliation, being endlessly
used by a string of total strangers, only to find out that she'd lost
everything anyway, was almost too much for her to bear.

When Melissa was finished cleaning up, they sat down together, the television
was on, though neither was really watching it, as each was lost in her own
thoughts.

There was a knock at the door, and Melissa sighed and said, "I'll get it,
maybe you won't have to do anything." She didn't even bothered to put the robe
back on, and a moment later, Kathy heard a gasp. She rushed into the sitting
room, to see a wide, eyed housekeeper still babbling apologies, and an equally
embarrassed Melissa, trying to hide herself in the curtain near the door.

Seeing Kathy, the tiny woman rushed forward, waving two garment sacks, and a
note, "Senor send... Senor say..." she repeated endlessly, then waited as
Kathy accepted the note and tore it open.

'I hope that you didn't answer the door in the raw.' the note began, and Kathy
looked around again, wondering if the man had cameras everywhere, as he seemed
to know exactly what they were doing. 'Don't assume that anyone visiting your
room is a John. Make them tell you who they are, and what they want. At least
have them tell you who sent them to you, before you open the door. NEVER offer
anything. And as I didn't hear from your first appointment, I assume you've
learned not to get too carried away when you're entertaining. Anyway, Maria
needs to clean the room. Put these on, and circulate in the casino. I know you
won't try to leave now, as you've already made your choice. The next
appointment is at 12:45. Your Tomcat.'

She started to crinkle the note in her hand, then thought better of it, and
handed it to Melissa, who read it, and then numbly accepted the garment bag
Maria offered her, using it to hide most of her torso, as she backed into the
bedroom. They heard the cleaning woman go to work in the front room, as they
unwrapped the scandalously revealing dresses.

Kathy's was a blue sequin outfit, that stopped at mid-calf, with a slit that
reached the top of her thigh, and a scoop in the back, that reached the small
of her back. She turned around to look at herself in the mirror, half expecting
to be able to see her ass crack. The included 3" heels were clear acrylic, and
there was a silver waistlet, that she initially mistook for a necklace, as
well as a matching anklet, both of which had been labeled. The last piece in
her 'accessories' sac, was a faux jeweled hair pin, which Kathy took to mean
she was supposed to put her hair up.

She had set about doing that, as Melissa examined her own dress. Kathy wondered
what was taking her friend so long, until Mel slipped the black silk dress on.
She started to say that she thought it was on backwards, but it wasn't. The
deep 'V' cut, flowed past the bottoms of her blonde friend's breasts, baring
her navel and dropping an inch or 2 below that. Kathy guessed that if they
hadn't been trimmed, when getting the tattoos, that her friend's pubic hair
would've been visible. The back of the dress was cut nearly as low, but was
held together by a network of strings, 2 of which strategically crossed around
at the front, midway between her breasts and navel in the front, holding the
dress together. There were glossy black leather 4" heels, and a silver chain
that made Melissa blush, upon reading the label, though she obediently clipped
it from her nipple to her labia ring, the metal glittering suggestively, as it
snaked along one edge of the open 'V' of the dress.

Each woman found tiny stud earrings, with the same Jerry character in onyx, as
as they now wore permanently just above their slits, and Kathy thought, a 
diamond chip for their groin. Kathy replaced the diamond studs already in her
ears, guessing that they'd be expected to wear such crude jewelry whenever
they were working, and already considering another piercing to facilitate
things, what was another hole or two, after all.

The women eyed each other and themselves, then nearly leaning against one
another, went into the sitting room. The cleaning lady glanced at them, but
gave no sign of surprise, and with that limited reassurance, they stepped into
the hall, each double checking that their room keys and the crisp pair of $20
bills each had found in their accessories sack were tucked into the
tiny pocket each had found inside of their dresses, apparently the closest
thing that they would have to a purse.

They wandered into the casino, initially so self-conscious that they could
barely move. It was something of a surprise, when they got no more overt
reaction than appraising glances from passers, by. Even in the middle of the
day, there were other women dressed nearly as provocatively, moving about the
tables, most hanging from some older gentleman's arm. They realized belatedly
that they were looking at the call girls and escorts, and that they were
dressed appropriately, for what Tom had them doing, but that in the setting of
Las Vegas, their profession and uniform weren't out of the ordinary.

After ten minutes they had relaxed sufficiently, that Kathy got $5 in nickels
and headed to the slots. A waitress quickly appeared, taking drink orders from
them, as Melissa began to play a quarter machine across the aisle. After
getting her drink, Melissa wandered to the roulette table, to try her luck,
while Kathy approached a nearby blackjack table. 

There were empty seats all over the place, but within minutes of her taking a
seat, the blackjack table that she had chosen was full. She held steady
through several hands, winning, then losing, then moving even again. The
waitress kept track of her, and kept a fresh drink beside her as she played,
for which she was grateful. Remembering the casual way that the men had used
her earlier, she expressed her thanks with a generous tip, when the girl
arrived with her third drink.

By then, she was up almost $100, and was starting to feel the alcohol. She
glanced where her watch should have been, before remembering that she had none
on, and inquired of the man sitting beside her, who looked down her dress,
at her cleavage, as he told her that it was ten past twelve. She placed her
bet, deciding to leave after that hand, and look for Melissa. She didn't see
her friend anywhere. She won, banking $120, $5 of which she left the dealer as
a tip, then offered the other assembled gamblers, all of whom were watching
her, a smile, as she carefully climbed down from her stool and left.

As she wandered around the casino, in search of her friend, she heard a shout
from the craps table. Turning, she caught a glimpse of blonde in black, and
changed course, guessing that she'd found Mel. Through a gap in the crowd, she
saw a fat man in a big Stetson, that matched his tailored suit, standing at
the end of the table, a beefy armed wrapped around Melissa's shoulder. As she
watched, he held the dice out, and blushing slightly at the attention, Melissa
blew on them, after which the man hurled the dice down onto the table. There
was another shout, and the big man beamed, bellowing, "Ain't you the prettiest
good luck charm, yet!"

He collected an amazing number of chips, handing several to Melissa, as Kathy
reached the edge of the table. He offered Mel the dice again, and Melissa blew
onto them, before the big man threw. Another winner. 

"That's like ten straight wins!" the man beside her said in amazement.

"Yeah, but the real piece of luck is having that sweetie on his arm." another
countered.

Kathy tried to get her friend's attention, but the Texan, had to be, given the
get up that he was wearing, wasn't letting her turn the right way. She glanced
around, guessing their time was getting short. Trying not to hurry, she moved
around the table and stepped up beside Melissa, as the cowboy had her blow on
his dice once again.

"C'mon, darlin'!" he drawled, and threw. Another winner.

Melissa smiled and clapped her hands, amazed at the pile of chips that had
grown in front of them.

"Ahem," Kathy cleared her throat, and both Melissa and her new longhorn admirer
looked her way.

"You'll have to excuse us," she said, offering her winningest smile to the man,
"but I'm afraid that we have to go." her eyes cut to Melissa, who blushed and
nodded, turning to the man.

"She's right. I have an appointment, but thanks, this was fun." she seemed
more relaxed than she'd been in the room, and Kathy was glad of that, but the
Texan's next words put an end to that.

"Now see here, missy," he began, "I can't just let my good luck charm cut and
run." as he made no move to let go of Melissa's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but we have other plans." Kathy shrugged, "Consider the luck she
provided as a temporary loan."

The man chomped angrily on his unlit cigar, then puffed out his chest and
nodded.

"Then let me speak with your employer. I'm sure I can arrange to have the lady
spend the rest of the day with me."

Melissa blanched, stepping back from him, eyes wide. Kathy's heart went out to
her friend, but there wasn't time for niceties.

"Ask around for Tom." she said, as the craps dealer interrupted them, asking
for final bets, and holding the dice out to the Texan, who'd made a show of
raking back most of his winnings, one handed, as they talked.

"Someone must know where to find him," Kathy shrugged, looking pointedly at
the craps attendant and the hovering pit boss. The man seemed ready to argue,
so she quickly, but quietly added, "Or you can call 1587. I'm sure he can
help." With that, she started to pull Melissa away, but not before the Texan
nodded gruffly, and openly sliding several chips into the side of the open 'V'
of Mel's dress.

"I'll just do that." he smiled, "I may even ask for both of you fillies, too!"

The others at the table laughed at that, but Melissa and Kathy were able to
escape towards the elevators. They heard the collective groan at the table
she'd just left, as they turned the corner. The Texan had crapped out. Melissa
was shaking visibly, but Kathy stopped in the waiting area by the elevators,
quickly dialing the number she'd just given the Texan. A voice picked up on
the first ring, it didn't sound like Tom.

"Tom please." she managed, hoping she'd remembered the number correctly. There
was a pause.

"Who is this?" the voice demanded. 

"Kathy... he knows me. I... I'm helping him out." There was a muffled
discussion followed by laughter.

"So you help me out, eh? I hadn't heard it put quite that way, before. What's
wrong? Out of money? I can't help you with that."

"No." Kathy interrupted, then winced, wondering if he'd be mad, "I, uh, Melissa
was sort of cornered by a guy who wasn't taking no for an answer."

"Good. Great even. A prospective customer, and you girls are already out there
bringing new blood in. That's why I wanted you two working the floor. What'd
you tell him?"

"Um, I told him we already had an appointment. He said he could arrange to
make it up to our 'employer' and I told him we already had plans, but that I
was sure that you could help him, if he needed something. I gave him your name,
Tom. And when he started to argue, your phone number." There was a pause, and
he spoke to someone in the background, then came back to her. 

"That's all right, Kat. I should've gotten you some cards." he laughed at his
joke, "Seriously, if someone is hitting on you, it might be a vice cop. That's
why I don't want you making any offers, so it was good that you referred him
to me. But that also exposes me to potential problems. Next time, take his
number, and tell him I'll call."

"Uh, all right." Kathy answered, without considering what was implied in his
casual mention of a 'next time.'

"Good. Then you'd better get upstairs, or you'll miss your next appointment.
So you aren't broke, eh?"

Kathy looked at her winnings, "No. I, uh, we did all right." she glanced at
Melissa who was staring in amazement at the $50, $100, and $500 chips in her
hands. Kathy guessed there was nearly $2000 there,

"Melissa did better." she said, looking at her friend, after she hung up.

"Maybe I should've let you hang with that cowboy. Melissa shook her head,
"He'd have lost the next roll anyway, and then I'd have been a dog. Or worse.
And I wouldn't have gotten this," she held up the $500 chip. "I thought... I
thought he was just being nice, since I was alone. But he knew, he thought I
was a..." she didn't finish the thought. 

"And you didn't even have to kiss him, but he gave you that much money." Kathy
pointed out, "That's not half bad. Hell, with that we could cut and run, if we
wouldn't find videotapes of our gang bang playing on the VCRs at home when we
got there." Melissa nodded, still fingering the chips.

"Imagine what people must be paying that ass hole to use us." Kathy paused,
and was that quickly quaking with anger, her friend was right.

"400 tricks, my ass. I think we'd better negotiate better terms, before we fly
out of here." Melissa nodded meekly, and followed Kathy onto the elevator car.

They had barely had time to put their winnings in the in-room safe, before the
door swung open. When Kathy stepped toward the front room to see if it was Tom,
her jaw nearly hit the floor. It was one of the magicians that she occasionally
saw on television, always with some gorgeous model or actress on his arm. He
stepped into the room, eyeing her gown and smiling.

"Tom always has such good taste." he said, offering the same crowd pleasing
smile as she had seen on TV.

Kathy could only stare, as he moved into the room, closing and locking the
door behind them. She realized that he held a satchel in one hand, and nearly
giggled at the thought that he might show them some magic tricks. Then she
turned serious, remembering why he was there. He moved straight into the
bedroom, offering Melissa the same practiced Hollywood smile, before asking if
they didn't want to "get more comfortable," and motioning toward the bathroom
as if that's where they should change.

Puzzled, Kathy followed her friend in, closing the door behind her. They
whispered in amazement, at seeing such a prominent man using prostitutes, even
if they weren't really prostitutes, for his pleasure. Melissa left the chain
connecting her breast and labia in place. When both of them were in their robes
again, Kathy led the way back into the bedroom. It had been deftly transformed,
lit only by candles in the corners of the room, a large black spread thrown
over the bed, with two roses wrapped in some royal purple material in the
middle. He motioned them into the room with a flourish, that seemed out of
place off the stage, to again direct the women onto the bed.

"How'd you get in here?" Kathy asked, before she did as he had indicated.

He smiled broadly. "A trick, you think?" he held up a card, "Alas, no. How
should I put this, shall we say that the manager provided me with the key to
my heart's desire, or should that be desires, as the case might be."

He pointed to the bed again and said, "Let's leave the robes there, shall we?
Climb onto the bed now, and each of you pick up a rose."

As they did, he went on, "See the sash? It's a blindfold. Put it on your
friend, each of you." There was a moment's hesitation, but they obeyed, having
some difficulty tying them while being blinded by one another.

"That's better. Now lie back. You'll feel me touching you, but don't move.
Just wait. I have to get your outfits just right, before we begin."

There was a long pause, and some noise, as he dug into the bag that he'd
brought. Then Melissa heard him approach her side of the bed. His large hand
ran from her armpit out towards her fingers, raising her arm over her head
until he held her hand, as he slipped something around her wrist. He repeated
the action on the other side, then moved down her body, rubbing from her
inner thighs, toward her toes, and putting something around her ankles.

"Shhh. Don't move." he whispered, and then she heard him move to the other
side of the bed. There was the sound of skin on skin, the pauses as she'd felt
when he'd touched her. He shifted from the foot to the head of the bed,
pausing while there was a noise like he was fixing a clasp or buckle, and then
he moved back to the foot of the bed. 

"There!" he sounded satisfied with himself. "Now all I have to do is this."

There was a sudden pulling sensation, and Melissa tried to bring her arms down,
but found out that she couldn't, she was bound, both her arms and legs. She
felt Kathy struggling beside her, and knew her friend was bound as well.

"Don't struggle, you couldn't escape if you could see the restraints." he
assured them. "Just lie back and relax. Enjoy the unknown."

There was utter silence for a time, until Melissa wondered if he'd left.
Another object lesson from their pimp, don't turn your back on a John. Then
something light brushed over her chest, tickling at her nipple, then running
along the chain, to barely wisp over her sex. She bit her lip, wishing that
she'd taken another of the pills, but it was too late now, she could do nothing
to stop whatever he had planned for her.

Kathy shifted, and she knew the same teasing touch was moving over her friend's
body. She tried to take some comfort in the fact that at least she wasn't alone
in her predicament, but tied and blindfolded, she still felt terribly alone.
There was the same teasing touch again, circling her breast, moving over her
unpierced nipple, and just when she was about to move, to avoid the tickling
sensation, there was a brief, sharp pain, and she gasped. A small weight
landed on her stomach, and she realized it had been the rose. First the petals,
and then a thorn. Less than a minute later, she heard Kathy give a similar cry
of surprise. Then there was nothing again.

Then the disembodied voice. "See? Pain can be exciting. But I assure you that
I won't hurt you. No, you're far too beautiful to mar. But one of you, I must
have one of you, and you'll have to ask for it. For whatever it is that I have
to offer. So I'll test you, and we'll see who breaks first."

There followed a long period of strangeness. He gently propped each of them up
on pillows, then abruptly used some contraption to force their legs wide apart,
while he stood at the foot of the bed. He used a feather, running it over all
of their exposed flesh. He used ice. He poured warm oil onto Melissa's abdomen,
spreading it into her skin, then repeating the process she assumed on Kathy.
He trailed honey from her lips, down her body, covering some sensitive areas
that she hadn't even known existed, then licking it off, teasing each erogenous
zone in turn, until Melissa was quivering despite herself.

He tugged at the rings, ran a vibrator over nipples and up into pussy, then
repeated the process with a larger, more insistent device. He dripped candle
wax onto them, delighting in the way they groaned and arched their backs,
trying to escape the momentary burning sensation, as it assailed their breasts
and pubes. And despite the pain and humiliation, Melissa felt the tension of
her need increasing, until her body was taut as a bowstring, her pussy nearly
dripping with excitement, and with need, despite the lack of the drugs that
she'd used before. She was glad that she was blindfolded, and glad that Kathy
couldn't see how she was reacting, as her body betrayed her. 

He rubbed something oily into her nipples, and then slipped something ice cold
into her frothing pussy, before moving over to repeat the process on Kathy.
Melissa bit her lip, as the material on her nipples began to burn, while the
chill between her legs made her pelvis tingle. She didn't want to be the one
to ask him to take her, the one to submit to him. She didn't want to be the
first one to give in. 

She told herself it wasn't fair, that he kept going to her first. Kathy groaned
aloud, as he lingered over her, and Melissa thought that she would ask for more,
or at least hoped so, but her friend said nothing more. She heard or felt him
moving back towards her side of the bed, and unbidden tears began to run down
her face. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to cheat on Jeff. She loved her
husband.

"Hmm, we must be getting close." he said, as he wiped away a tear that had
escaped the blindfold, "I'll bet that this won't go on much longer. Soon we'll
know who really wants to fuck me." There was a pause, while he rummaged around
in the sack, "This shouldn't be too much, given what both of you have already
let some artist do to your bodies." he said, leaning over Melissa at chest
level, "Though I wager that this is new."

He set something cold and round over her right breast, then did something above
her chest. Melissa's breath caught, before she whimpered at the sudden suction
pulling at her nipple and areola. It was as if a thousand pins were pricking
the skin of her nipple. She groaned again and again, her head thrashing from
side to side, trying to will the pain away.

"No? Strong girl." he said, then moved over to Kathy.

Melissa felt her friend's body had gone rigid, and realized dimly that Kathy
had to endure the anticipation of what was coming, more than she did. Not that
the thought eased the throbbing pain in her right breast, though it did make
it easier to be glad that she was the first to experience his 'attentions.' A
moment later, Kathy writhed, whining and digging her nails into the sheets, as
the same treatment was applied to her friend's left breast, Melissa was
certain.

"Still no?" the man seemed amazed, "I should have you two on my next special."
he commented, laughing at his own joke, but spent no idle time, before he was
between Melissa's legs. The body temperature vibrator was removed, and he
thrust his penis into her, she realized in horror, a few times, then backed
off, pushing the vibrator that he'd just removed, relentlessly into her
backdoor.

"Ccccondom." she managed to say, hoping that he would obey her.

He chuckled and said, "Oh, I assure you that I'm sheathed. I just had to
sample that delightful pussy." as he stepped back and laughed, as Melissa
hunched against her bonds, trying to escape the buzzing device filling her ass.

"Now let's sample your friend's charms. I may have to make a unilateral
judgment."

She felt Kathy's body rock, as he thrust into her a few times, and felt for
her friend, as Kathy pulled against the restraints, when he thrust the vibrator
into her ass.

"Hmmmmm." he said, "You two are really close, aren't you? You need more of
what I was giving you, don't you? It's OK, you can tell me."

He got up, and returned to her side of the bed. "Last chance blondie. You sure
that you don't want me to take you? Sure that you don't need my cock in your
cunt? You're absolutely dripping onto the bed, I tell you. No? All right. Turn
your head here, and open up."

Melissa did as instructed, trying not to flinch at the expected taste of latex,
or worse, the taste of another strange cock. It was almost with relief that
she accepted the condom covered shaft into her mouth.

"Oh yeah!" he grunted, thrusting in and out a few times. She tried to relax,
comparing it to Stephen's, which had been much larger, he was probably Jeff's
size, though she'd never sucked his cock, before, and the comparison smacked
of infidelity. The man pulled out quickly, pushing a bulbous metallic object
into her open mouth before she could react. Melissa managed a squeal, before
the device was at the back of her throat, and seemingly intent on thrusting
into her throat. She gagged helplessly. He fixed it in place somehow, stepping
away as she gagged again and again, until her muscles tired, leaving her
panting, struggling to breathe around the object, and trying to relax.

She was dimly aware that she'd been struggling and grunting and whining, but
as she quieted down, the only movement that she sensed was the rapid rise and
fall of her chest, as she breathed. She wasn't sure what he was doing to Kathy
any longer, but a moment later she heard her friend groan, "Stop! I need it.
God, please don't tease me anymore. Give me your cock. I want it!"

Melissa felt herself smile around the device distorting her lips, her body
truly relaxing, as she realized that she wouldn't have to endure more.

"Oh, so you've broken, have you?" the man laughed, leaning down over Kathy,
and feeding her his erection. He thrust into her mouth, enjoying the way that
she suckled at him, and he let himself get as close as he dared, before pulling
out quickly. He bent down, and thrust the second dildo gag into the brunette's
mouth, delighting in the way that she gagged and struggled, just as the blonde
had done. He reached up, removing her blindfold, and leered down at her.

"So you need it, do you? You have to have my cock inside of you? I'll tell you
what. I'll remove the gag in just a minute, and I want you to tell me how much
you need it. I want you to watch first though." he said, as he moved back and
over onto the bed, until he was between Melissa's spread legs.

He pulled the vibrator out of her stretched ass, and without bothering to
clean it, thrust it into Kathy's cunt, delighting in the woman's muffled
squeal of disgust.

"On second thought, you'd probably get too loud. I think you'll just have to
watch, as I fuck your friend." As he said, as he drove his cock into Melissa,
who screamed into her own gag.

"See?" he panted, his hips flexing rhythmically, as he thrust into the petite
blonde, "I was sure that you'd out last this one, but I must admit." he said,
as he drove into her even more forcefully, "I'm glad that I got to sample more
of this delight. Nnngggg!" 

He held himself against the thrashing, wailing blonde, clearly orgasming.
Spent, he pulled out, and stripped the condom off, then casually removed the
dildos and the little suction cup devices, that were threatening to cause a
hickey on each woman's breast. He moved back around the bed, deftly removing
the leather restraints, that had been hidden beneath the black cover. He
casually rolled the women off of the cover, as he packed it away with practiced
ease, before he finally retrieved the intrusive gags. Both women were left
gasping, almost retching, in a naked huddle on the bed. He looked down at them,
as he zipped the case closed.

"I certainly enjoyed that. Remember me to Tom next time, and you may get to
enjoy me again."

Without another word, he swept out of the suite's bedroom, and the door to the
suite closed behind him, all within five minutes of his cuming. 

"I think that he needed an audience?" Kathy managed to say, when she'd calmed
a little bit, and her throat didn't ache so badly.

Melissa nodded miserably. "Too weird." She stifled a groan as she sat up.
"I was sure that he was going to fuck you, when you spoke."

"I was too, but the way you'd been thrashing about, I didn't want whatever he'd
done to you, be done to me. And then the ass hole did it anyway."

"At least he didn't take that long." Melissa giggled at that. 

"Nope," Kathy smiled in agreement. "and he wasn't that big, either. I mean, it
surprised me when he started to fuck me, but it wasn't like..."

"No." Melissa was suddenly sober again, "It wasn't like earlier today, or what
the flight back will be like either."

"Shhh... Don't think about that now. Let's just get through this."

"Yeah, this and another 400 guys!" Melissa said, as she shook violently. "I
don't think I can do it!" 

"You could try to pay your way out, you have that money."

Melissa laughed bitterly. "Like you said, if he's throwing money around like
this, imagine what he gets paid to have me used like this. And you saw
downstairs, no one cares what's happening, and some of them have to know, I
wouldn't make it out of the city, without his knowing about it. Face it, we're
fucked." she said, as she pulled her knees up close to her chest, not caring
that it exposed her hair fringed labia, and the glittering ring in one lip.

"You know what I think scares me the most?" she whispered a moment later, "I
might start to like it. Not with pigs like him."  Melissa jerked her head
towards the door, "But this morning... that was almost... it frightened me." 

"That was the drugs." Kathy countered, but understood her friend's fear,
because she shared it too. She reassured herself that it had to have been the
drugs, she certainly hadn't been interested in the magician's skills, giving
in had seemed the best way to avoid some pain. Groaning, she stood up.

"At least we have more time to get cleaned up." Kathy glanced at the bed, "and
he didn't make a mess, so we can go back down to gamble some more."

"I don't think so," Melissa shook her head. 

"C'mon." Kathy encouraged, "Just take $50 back down. When it's gone, we'll
come back up. And I promise I won't let you get snapped up by any rich
hillbillies."

Melissa laughed, but shook her head. "No, you go. Go find yourself a Sugar
Daddy. I'll come rescue you when it's time."

"Oh no!" Kathy shook her head, "We're in this together, we stay together." She
pursed her lips. "We could order room service?"

Melissa thought about it, then nodded, smiling ruefully. "But you answer the
door this time."

Kathy laughed, then followed her friend into the bathroom to clean up. Again.



                                  Part 7



Melissa gave a short gasp, as she led the way out of the bathroom, still naked,
and wet from the shower. Tom was lying on the bed, his hands laced behind his
head.

"You 2 look like you're enjoying yourselves." he said, smiling at them, aware
that the happiness that had been on both women's faces was gone.

"What? No hello kiss?" he shook his head, "I'm hurt. Imagine the things you'd
learn the hard way, if I didn't have this little introductory course for you?
You'd be letting total strangers pump their cum into you. You'd be getting
involved with pimps, looking to turn you over to the Saudi's." he paused,
seeing the confusion in their faces.

"The 'cowboy' you latched on to?" 

"He came on to me," Melissa retorted angrily.

"Whatever. He picks up young women for several men, who, shall I say, treat
women like merchandise."

"And you don't?" Kathy countered.

"Ouch. I already explained. Your dresses and your trip to Vegas should be
ample proof that I'm not a total ogre. I'm even paying for the show that you'll
see tonight. You're just working off a debt of sorts. When it's paid, you can
leave or you'll earn a fair percentage, just like any pro."

"400 tricks is a steep debt plan, we can guess how much you must get selling
us." Kathy was practically spitting, she was so mad.

Tom wasn't about to deny it. Not completely, anyway. "That's true here, but
this isn't your usual set-up. I can't charge as much back home. The guys don't
have the money to burn, you're not the unique commodity you are here, and
there's definitely more hassle with the law enforcement community back home."
He tilted his head, staring at Kathy pointedly, "But you aren't in a position
to negotiate anyway. I could've said 500. Or 1000. Hell, I could say 25, then
string you along until you'd done 1000." 

"You still might."

He shrugged. "I haven't fucked you over yet, have I?"

Both women eyed him, until he smiled at his own joke, "Well, I guess I have,
several times, in fact. But I'm not shitting you about this. You treat me
straight up, and I'll treat you straight up."

Satisfied that they weren't going to mutiny, he pressed his advantage. "How'd
it go with Merlin?"

"The magician? He doesn't have too high an opinion of himself, does he?" Kathy
sniffed dismissively. "I mean, he could've cared less if we came."

"That's true of most Johns. Oh they want you to cum, but not because they're
doing anything special for you. It's sort of like they want to be so good, that
you get off just letting them put their dick into your pussy. And yes, he's
like that. He isn't much of a man either, according to the other girls." Tom
shrugged. "But that, among other things, is a nice example of what you can
expect from most of your tricks. They won't be as well equipped as my friends
and I are. It'll just be regular Joe's, no bigger or better than your husbands."

"Except that they know that they're banging another man's wife." Kathy retorted,
as she wasn't ready to just agree with him yet.

"True. At least, we assume that's different from your hubbies." he said,
smiling at the anger that was triggered, and waved his hands defensively.

"Let's not fight. I'm sure that your husbands love you. Just like I'm sure
that I want you to enjoy your time with me." He tilted his chin down, eyeing
them like students.

"What else were you supposed to learn from that last trick?"

"Um, not to let people surprise us?" Melissa ventured, holding up the blindfold
that had apparently been left as a souvenir.

"Close. Don't let anyone bring something into the room, that you don't check
out first. That means no one tapes you without your knowing about it, no one
uses restraints or whips or chains or any of the other weird shit, that some
of pervs want to use, unless I say so. I'll screen most of the shit out, but
don't ever drop your own guard." He leaned forward, bringing his hand in front
to rub them, as if anticipating something wonderful. "Now, why is it that I
came up here?" he let his eyes wander over their bodies, "Oh yes. Are you two
ready for me?"

Kathy shrugged, and asked, "Do you have something that we haven't seen before?"

"Oh, you've seen it. You've even enjoyed it before, I just don't think that
you remember it. Today, though, today you'll find out what it's like to have a
real cock."

Kathy tried to snort derisively, but she remembered the images of him pulling
out of her ass, and suddenly he didn't sound so boastful anymore. Tom saw the
change.

"Oh, so maybe you do remember more than I thought." he said, reaching down, and
opening the top of his pants, "It's also good to see that you're both
comfortable with me talking to you, while you're both standing there stark
naked." both women blushed at this point. "Seriously. Don't be embarrassed. I
want you to be comfortable like that, so that you're comfortable doing your
jobs. That's also part of why I want to know you inside and out, so to speak."

He pushed his pants and shorts to his knees, kicking them free, as the women
stared at him in amazement, "I'm not kidding when I tell you, that if you let
yourselves, you'll actually enjoy this." 

"Oh God!" Melissa murmured quietly, "I think that I need the drug."

"That's fine, for now." Tom shrugged, "Plenty of time to be real when I'm
taking you later."

Melissa stiffened in the doorway. "Will you... will you be gentle?"

"Of course. You're my girls. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to want to
be with me, to look on it as a reward, something that you'd work to earn. Look,
I won't get you pregnant, I won't give you a disease, and I won't just cum
inside of you, then leave or go to sleep. I want to make sure that you enjoy
the sex. Then maybe you'll at least be able to pretend better, when you're
working, and that will help us all."

He pointed to his semi-erect cock. "I sort of enjoyed the double team blow job
that you gave me that night in the bar. How about an encore?"

Kathy looked at Melissa, who shrugged, then nodded. There was no real choice.
Following Kathy's lead, she climbed to one side of Tom on the bed, trying not
to stare at his immense ebony shaft. Still partly soft, it was longer than
Jeff's was, when it was hard. She shivered, aware that she'd taken him before,
but unsure of how, or what it would do to her, feeling him inside of her. She
glanced at Kathy, then bent her head down, kissing the pink tip lightly,
tasting salt and something else.

She moved to the side, kissing and licking along the shaft, while Kathy planted
a kiss on the bulbous head, and trailed her on the opposite side. Melissa felt
a strange thrill, whenever her friend's lips touched her's, and she moved
unconsciously to maintain that contact, unaware that it had caused the same
stirring in her friend. Tom just lay back, not guiding or nudging or
interfering in any way.

He'd learned that letting women find their own lesbian impulses, was more
effective than forcing the issue. Soon tongues were involved, playing a
subconscious game around his swelling shaft. He waited, wondering if the
women's desire for one another would override their need to know how it had
felt having him inside of them before. That was something he'd never learned
to predict.

He was already nearly hard, when the blonde seemed to sense the underlying
desire, not for him, but her friend, and abruptly shifted, moving to the top
of his erection, and forcibly taking as much as she could into her mouth. She
sucked at him strongly, while the brunette's lips continued to play a
tantalizing game of 'almost kiss' with her friend. Tom bit back a groan of
pleasure when the blonde managed to take him partly into her throat. His
experience had been that women were better suited to oral sex, after enduring
the magician's twisted idea of a gag. He'd guessed that the blonde had never
blown her husband before in her life, but she'd been a tigress in the bar that
night, and was doing an even better job, while conscious of her actions,
albeit in part to deny that she had lesbian urges as well. 

He wondered for a moment what her husband would think, the first time she
inadvertently offered him oral sex. Most men didn't give it a second thought,
they merely assumed their overwhelming virility had finally breached the taboos
of a religious upbringing. Melissa came up for a breath, and Kathy dove onto
his shaft like she was starving for cock. They were bobbing and slurping at
him eagerly by then, any thought of what exactly they were doing banished by
their unacknowledged mutual desire, and their bodies' memory of what he'd done
to them before. He caught Melissa under her nearer arm, pulling her up to him
and kissing her hungrily on the mouth. She welcomed the kiss, mouth opened and
eyes closed. Her tongue dancing with his, accepting his into her mouth. His
hands groped her firm breasts, toyed with the piercing on the one side, as the
other hand dipped between her legs to her pink center. She shivered, pressing
herself against his hand, and kissing him more fervently.

Kathy nipped at his shaft, but didn't release him, as her friend's sex hovered
nearby, anxious to take him inside. He easily lifted the petite blonde, turning
in bed without ever losing Kathy's intimate contact, and laying Melissa on her
back, her legs draped over his shoulders.

He began to lap at the blonde's downy sex, sucking in her plentiful juices, and
flicking her already swollen clit with his tongue. She mewled in response,
pressing her sex against him, and shivering, as he quickly built her to a
small orgasm. He sat up, working two long fingers in and out of Melissa's
clutching pussy, and caught Kathy by the chin, disengaging her from his raging
erection. 

"Do you want more?" he murmured.

Her eyes were lust hazed, her mouth open, her tongue still against his cock,
as she nodded.

"Then roll over onto your back." he said.

She did, spreading her legs and offering her sex to him. He moved from between
Melissa's legs, still fingering the blonde steadily, while his thumb worked
against her clit, and began lapping at Kathy's sex, reveling in the different
tastes and textures, compared to her friend. Kathy built as quickly to her
orgasm, her fingers digging into the sheets, her pelvis coming up to meet his
exploring tongue. He replaced his tongue with two fingers of his left hand,
kneeling over their crossed legs, and finger fucking them in time.

Kathy began to build to her next release more quickly than Melissa, who'd
slipped back from the edge during his concentration on her friend. He told
Melissa to climb over her friend, facing him. She did so without reluctance,
leaving her dripping, steaming pussy directly over Kathy's face. He then fed
the blonde his cock, fucking as much as she could take gently into her face a
few times, before pulling out, and dipping his glistening cock into Kathy's
open, hungry pussy. The brunette groaned loudly into the blonde's sex, the
vibration making Melissa throw her own head back, and murmur her delight, the
movement caused her to press her sex more closely against her friend's face.

Tom was just more than half way into Kathy's velvet box, when her breath
caught. He was as deep as she remembered ever being fucked before. He paused,
lifting his hips, and putting more pressure on her clit, which elicited another
groan, before he slipped out of her, and fed his cock to a willing Melissa
again. She sucked him feverishly, heedless of her friend's juices now coating
his shaft. A moment later, he moved back into Kathy, smiling as the brunette's
jumped in anticipation, and pressing forward to that same point, before getting
the same reaction that he had the first time. Kathy's breath gusted into
Melissa's cunt, and he expected the blonde at any moment to force her dripping
pussy against her friend's face. 

After pausing inside of Kathy for a moment, he backed out again, but fucked in
and out easily, stopping each stroke right at the point where Kathy began to
tense. After a minute, Kathy's reaction had eased up, and soon she was
groaning, while her hips moved as much as Melissa's torso allowed, to meet his
thrusts. He put pressure on her clit with each out stroke, stopping again after
another minute, and letting the blonde work on his shaft, while he reinforced
his own rigid self, control. 

He was amazed to see that Melissa was taking him into her throat with each
stroke, sucking on nearly 3/4's of his long, thick cock without distress. He
smiled, sure that he'd chosen a winning pair. Then he backed out, chuckling at
the blonde's whine of disappointment, as the brunette groaned happily, as he
moved back into her drooling sex again. This time there was no resistance when
he hit the 'mark', so he didn't stop, thrusting another 3" into her, before he
paused. Kathy's whole body had gone rigid, and he did too.

She came and cried out in surprise, the sound was delivered directly into
Melissa's pussy. While the keening whine was still audible, the blonde's gasp
masked Kathy's cry, and then Melissa rocked back, planting herself firmly on
the brunette's face. By the time Tom backed out an inch, Kathy was openly
eating her friend's pussy. He fucked in and out of Kathy's cunt for awhile,
pushing slightly deeper with each stroke, until he felt her hesitate again. He
backed off, but picked up the pace, quickly building her past the point that
she cared what he was doing.

Catching Melissa's attention, he pointed to his cock and smiled, as the blonde
eagerly leaned forward to lap at him, each time that he pulled out of Kathy's
twitching cunt. After a moment, he paused, pointing Melissa to Kathy's clit.
Melissa threw her head back just then, Kathy had clearly begun to suck at the
blonde's clit, or nip at the ring in the sensitive portion of her inner labia.
Her back arching, as she started to climax from her friend's ministrations,
Melissa bent forward and eagerly sucked Kathy's clit into her mouth. The
brunette cried out in her own pleasure, into her friend's pussy, and Tom chose
that very moment to drive his cock balls deep into her, holding himself there
as Kathy's cunt spasmed again and again. She groaned for long moments, the
noise muffled by Melissa's pussy. By the time that her climax had eased down,
Kathy had found that she had actually taken his entire massive twelve inch
plus length.

She shivered, feeling how deeply he was filling her, then nodded, when he moved
side to side, asking if she was ready. He began to move, first backing out
barely an inch, and easing fully forward, as much for his own self-control, as
her comfort. Once he was calmed down himself, he began moving more quickly,
backing out 4", then 6", until finally his entire shaft was slipping in and
out of her sex. Kathy bent her knees, dropping them wide apart, and pumping
her pelvis up to meet his strokes, groaning each time his bulbous cock head
clipped her cervix, to push up and behind. He was more determined than ever,
after she'd cum again, pushing more forcefully at her cervix. She'd had kids,
that he knew, and had experienced cervical dilatation before, and with patience,
he was delighted to find her cervix was still pliable.

She groaned from the increased discomfort, and at the short strokes that he
was using to accomplish his goal, but after another few minutes, the groans
had changed in pitch, and she was shivering each time he thrust into her. He
gritted his teeth, feeling his cock pressing farther into her cervix with each
thrust. She was close, and then it happened. The resistance dropped off,
allowing him in even deeper, not the balls deep he'd been before, but into her
uterus. He paused, aware that he'd managed to actually fuck his way into her
womb.

"Does that feel good?" he teased, holding himself there. Kathy was biting her
lower lip, her hips gyrating beneath him, her breath whistling, as she calmed
herself down slightly from her last climax. She nodded below Melissa's
dripping pussy.

"Do you know where I am?" he asked, "First I fucked you deeper than anyone
else ever has, and now I'm up inside your womb." she stiffened in shock.

"That's right," he smiled, "My cock went through your cervix, up your uterus
and the head is sitting in your womb. That's why it feels so tight, baby. Now
fuck yourself on my cock!" he ordered excitedly, "Fuck your womb on daddy's
big black meat."

Melissa's eyes were half closed eyes from her friend's tonguing. Kathy wanted
to refuse him, he could just feel it, but as he shifted, bringing the base of
his shaft against her clit, she shivered, and then eagerly complied.

"That's right baby." he said, "Get yourself off. Get me off. Take my load right
where your eggs are." his words spurring Kathy on.

She whimpered beneath Melissa, thrusting her pussy up at him madly. He gritted
his teeth, trying to hold off for a moment longer, and caught Melissa's
attention.

"Hear that? Hear how much your friend loves my cock? But don't you worry, your
turn's coming soon."

Melissa arched her back, pressing her pussy even tighter against Kathy's mouth
as a result of his words. Tom chose that very moment to drive down deep into
her, meeting Kathy's lunge, and she screamed into Melissa's cunt, getting the
blonde off, as he began to pulse his jism into Kathy's completely opened, and
vulnerable womb. Shot after shot fired into her, and he kept fucking against
her as it did, not caring where it went. Still firing, he pulled back, pumping
a stream into Melissa's wide open mouth.

The blonde's eyes popped open, but she swallowed, her head dropping in search
of more. Then he was done, and finally pulled out of Kathy's well fucked hole.
He shifted back, watching as Melissa buried her face in her friend's cunt,
slurping and licking at the jism drooling from Kathy's black fringed cunt.
Watching the lesbian 69 was a quick means of getting him to recuperate. The
women seemed insatiable, Kathy hunching her pussy against Melissa's face, while
the blonde basically rode her friend's mouth to a series of satisfying orgasms. 

They were still going at it without pause, when he rolled to his knees, his
cock revived, and in his hand. The women were so lost in one another, that they
didn't even notice that he had gotten off of the bed, and had moved to the
other side. He smiled to himself, as Melissa was at the perfect height to take
her from behind, while he was stood beside the bed. He straddled Kathy's head,
pressing his knees into the mattress for support. She looked back up as the
bed sunk on either side of her head, licking her lips in undisguised lust,
when she saw his cock jutting out in front of her eyes.

She tilted her head back, lapping from Melissa's pink seam, to the head of his
cock. His hand was still wrapped around the base, and directing it. He leaned
forward, thrusting 4" into Melissa's wide open pussy. The blonde shivered,
arching her back, as she thrust her cunt back onto his pole, as she groaned
loudly into Kathy's cunt. Smiling at the reaction, Tom gave her another 3"
before she threw her head back in lust, her breath coming in short gasps. He
held himself there, until it was obvious that she was at her limit, for the
moment. He backed half of the way out, and Melissa collapsed onto her friend,
whimpering and shivering. 

"Oh yeah." he teased, spreading her labia, so that Kathy could lick upwards,
stimulating the blonde's swollen, naked clit, "You like that, don't you? You
didn't know it could feel so good, did you?"

He waited, bobbing his shaft within her splayed opening. Melissa shook her
head.

"I didn't hear you." Tom murmured, backing out another inch.

She whimpered, then, husked, "I... I want it. Fuck me, please!"

He smiled, feeding 5" back into her tight box, bringing her head up, her
breath catching once again. He left his shaft there for long seconds, then
backed out, giving her only enough time to get a breath in, before pushing his
cock back into her, this time two thirds of it inside of her. She whined, her
hands balling the covers as she made a fist. Kathy was licking and sucking at
her friend's clit, pausing every few seconds to run her tongue along his shaft.
He caught the tiny blonde by the waist, and began rocking in and out of her,
going from having just a third of his shaft inside of her, to sliding another
third of his length into her, again and again.

At first, Melissa gave voice to each inwards stroke with a panting whine. When
she adapted to taking 8" of his cock, without any difficulty, he slowed down,
shifting his hips from side to side, stretching her outer lips, and teasing
her, until she was rocking her cunt back against him, hungry for more. He kept
a hold of her hips, not letting her have what she wanted, until she was
whimpering, even when he wasn't thrusting into her. 

"Please!" she groaned, "Give it to me. I want your cock inside of me. Fuck me!" 

"You want it?" he asked, backing out an inch.

"Yesss!" she whimpered.

"It feels so good." Melissa groaned, nodding emphatically.

"You don't care that I'm not your husband, and that you're fucking a big black
cock?"

Melissa's shoulder shook as she sobbed, "God, I don't care anymore. Just fuck
me. Take me. I'm yours, daddy, just give me your cock." she screamed into
Kathy's pussy, as he slipped 10" into her just then, holding himself still and
in place, as her body spasmed.

She came for nearly a minute, and when she was left panting, lying heavily on
her naked friend, Tom began to slide in and out of her again. Something like a
purr escaped from her throat, and by the time he'd fed her the 11th inch, she
was rocking back and forth against him. The last thrust, putting him balls
deep inside of her, was almost anti-climatic, she was pushing back against him,
taking it all, and wanting it all. He let go of her hips and watched, as she
eagerly impaled herself on his meat. After letting her fuck herself on his
shaft for a minute, he slipped out of her, smiling as she whined in displeasure,
trying to move into position, to take him back into her velvet folds again.
Dropping out of her hungry cunt, he pushed his wet cock head down, feeding it
to Kathy.

The brunette sucked at him whorishly, letting him push into her throat, her
hands grasping his ass, trying to hold him there, when he moved back to resume
fucking her friend. He alternated, driving balls deep into Melissa's tight
steaming box four or five strokes, then letting Kathy devour his meat for a
minute. Each time he thrust back into the blonde, Kathy lapped at her friend's
pussy, anxious for Melissa to get off, so that she could have Tom to herself.

Melissa, meanwhile was feverishly working Kathy's cunt, aware of what her
friend was doing, and similarly trying to get the brunette off, so that Tom
would concentrate on her. She sucked and nipped at Kathy's clit, then pulled
at the labial ring with her teeth, which finally pushed Kathy over the edge.
She screamed around Tom's cock, her back arching, as she climaxed. He wisely
pulled out, driving fully into Melissa, which triggered the blonde's release,
and her milking cunt coaxed him over the edge as well. A moment after she'd
begun her cascade of pleasure, Melissa groaned in impassioned delight, as she
felt Tom filling her womb with his cum.

As with Kathy, he held still for only a moment, then went on pumping into her,
while his jism boiled into her crevice. He pulled out more quickly than he had
with Kathy, though letting the last spurt spatter the blonde's pubes. He pushed
his cock into Kathy's mouth, letting her suck the last drops from his waning
cock, cleaning the shaft with her lips, before he backed off, and she began to
clean her friend's pussy.

Melissa sighed, spreading her legs, while supporting her weight on her arms
and knees, offering her dripping cunt to Kathy's mouth. Tom sat back, snapping
several pictures of the action with a low light camera, as the women wound
down. He'd hidden the tiny, but powerful digital camera, by the time Melissa
turned, kissing Kathy hungrily, sharing the mingled load that had coated the
brunette's cheeks and chin. Gradually the heat of their passion ebbed, until
they lay there panting together. As awareness resurfaced, Kathy sat up
partially, but paused, and then snuggled closer to Melissa. After a moment's
hesitation, the blonde wife accepted her girlfriend's intimate contact, without
any reservations.

Tom sat there watching them, as they recovered, and realized that he was still
there. Then sheepishly, they began to put themselves together. He laughed,
shaking his head at their reactions. "Didn't I tell you that it wouldn't be
all bad?"

The women didn't answer, but when he waggled his spent cock, as Melissa watched
him, her response was unmistakable, the women were his to use. He made a show
of looking at his watch, and then said, "You'd better get cleaned up and into
your dresses, whatever show you choose will start soon."

Both women moved into the bathroom at once, and he considered joining them, if
only to see how they fared, now that they were lovers, and not just victims
sharing a fate, but opted to leave them to adjust to their new relationship
alone. He went into the main room, pocketing the remaining pills. The bluff
about the pills had worked, it usually did, just as the liberal dusting of E
on his genitals assured that they'd enjoy the sex without knowing it'd been
'assisted.' Despite the fact that they at least believed that they'd willingly
enjoyed sex with him, without such aids, he planned to suggest that they use
them for the flight back. It would be a long trip, and without the drug's help
the sheer number of men that they'd be dealing with, might cause a problem,
whether during the flight or later.

When the women came into the main room some time later, he gave a low whistle.
"No wonder that cowboy wanted you. Isn't that better than what you wore here?"
the women blushed, shrugging noncommittally. He laughed, "You act like you're
with your husbands. I'm the guy making you have sex with other men, remember?
Nothing you say will shock me, so relax, and say what you think. OK? At least
that can be one benefit of this little relationship."

Kathy frowned, then shook her head. "You don't want to know what I think of
you."

"What? That I'm a criminal who should be arrested and jailed? Maybe castrated?
Careful though, you'd miss the feeling of me inside of you if that happened."
He smiled cruelly, "I can be your worst nightmare, and trust me, you think
you've seen that, but you haven't. And just remember, that I can also be your
wildest fantasy, too. Remember feeling me inside of you? Really inside of you,
like no one's ever been before?" Kathy blushed and looked away. "I thought so.
What have you decided on?"

"O." Melissa replied quietly.

"Excellent choice, though you'll have to go straight to the airport, and the
guys may damage those fine clothes."

Kathy ran a hand over the dress. "It's not like I could wear this home anyway."

"No, but you could take it home. Then tell Fred that it was one of your
winnings. The 'contest' was set up as a girl's night out event. If they check
it'll support that as to why it was you and Mel, and not either of you and
your husband. The spontaneity was part of the fun, but there was a show and
meals, and 'Vegas hospitality'," he waggled his eyebrows, "Included. Just
don't tell them you were the ones providing the hospitality. You even have
some winnings to show for your visit."

He didn't mention that they'd also go home with a growing need to have him
inside of them again, on a regular basis, that was the real reason he'd gotten
into the flesh trade to begin with. He stood and opened the door with a
flourish, "Well ladies, shall we go?"



                                  Part 8



The women watched the lights of Vegas recede, as the plane banked steeply,
turning onto a lazy course for home. Each was trying not to think about the
next four hours. The show had been remarkable, more so, because Tom had sat
between them, diddling them with his fingers, as they'd ooh'd and ahh'd with
the crowd. Melissa had asked if he'd like to go into the lobby, willing to let
him lead her into the men's room if he wanted, but he'd just told her to enjoy
herself and the show.

They had their things packed into their new 'O' bags, with souvenirs for the
kids and their husbands. At the steps to the private jet, Tom had handed them
each a glass of champagne with the stimulants that he'd made available to them
earlier, offering them a toast, along with 'their medication', "To a long,
pleasant involvement."

They hesitated at using the drugs, and even more so due to the toast, but
relented without argument, when he pointed out that he only wanted to be sure
that they enjoyed themselves throughout the flight, rather than finding the
last hour of the flight really tough to take. The nimble plane leapt to
cruising altitude. Tom had explained that the flight might be as short as three
hours, depending on the weather, and because of the time zone change, it would
only be about 2:00 AM when they touched down.

Melissa paused, suddenly worried about going home, and asked how they would
clean themselves up, before facing their husbands. He smiled, offering each
the hotel key ring that he had added to each of their purses, and showing them
the new keys. Melissa's was labeled, 'Group Art Supplies,' and Kathy's 'Copy
Room.' He explained that he had several apartments in Kansas City, as well as
St. Louis, Chicago, Omaha, Denver, Detroit, Dallas, San Antonio, Phoenix, and
Las Vegas. 'His girls' in those cities could leave their things there, when
getting ready to work, and could clean up in the rooms afterwards. Neither
woman considered that they'd soon be winging their way to any of those
destinations, for the sole purpose of bedding a total stranger.

But by then the drugs had begun to take effect, and as the men in the more
forward seats began to get up, the back of the plane had been changed from a
tattoo parlor to a boudoir, and they began to turn their attention to their
'hostesses,' both women were becoming visibly aroused. The women got up from
their seats to meet their admirers in the aisle, without a word from Tom, who
sat back to enjoy the forth coming show. Of course, the camcorder was ready,
as he was confident that the women would put on a better show now, than they
had on the flight out.

The heavyset black man who had been the first to sample Melissa's charms was
the first to reach her again. Tom smiled, seeing that she remembered the man
from the video.

"You enjoyed me that much the last time?" she murmured, one hand dropping
between her legs, while her other reached for his pants, pulling his zipper
down. He smiled, showing a mouthful of grime coated teeth, but the blonde
didn't seem to notice, she was so lost in her drug induced desire.

"Do you want to do me again?" she asked, offering no resistance when the man
began to roughly lift her dress. He stopped when her crotch was bare, reaching
down to cup her exposed cunt, and sliding a finger into her. 

"Mmm, you already wet baby. You wantin' me in you, I t'ink." The man's Jamaican
background colored his voice.

The petite blonde's response was a barely an audible groan, as she spread her
legs, humping her pelvis against his exploring hand. Beside her, half in the
aisle and half in her seat, Kathy was letting the swarthy Chicano, that Tom had
recruited to 'manage' the girls in Arizona, strip her naked, with the help of
Robert, the fat little man who'd agreed to 'loan' Tom the plane for his
training jaunts, on the condition of his participation. Tom figured having a
token white man, with an average sized dick, could only help to remind his
girls of what they would lose if they decided to leave the business.

Jacob had moved Melissa to the super single mattress against the starboard
bulkhead, by filling her pussy with his big bent dick, in the middle of the
aisle and then walking her backwards, joined like that. As Tom watched, he
pulled out, laughing when Melissa whined in displeasure, scrambling to her
hands and knees to suck on his cock, which glistened with her own juices. He
encouraged her for a few minutes, as the other men stripped and began to
choose where they wanted to wait in line, then he moved around to thrust into
her from behind. Melissa's eyes were closed, her mouth opened, and she arched
her back, pushing to meet the twisted cock, as it corkscrewed deeply into her
naked cunt.

Tom turned around to see Kathy draped over a chair, sucking on Robert's cock,
while Jorge sucked on her cunt from behind. As he watched, the big Hispanic
man stood up, laughing as his cock slapped against the brunette's clit, making
her spasm. She reached back, grabbed his tool, pulled it her into her seam,
and then began rocking back against him, to take him into her velvet pussy. It
was another first for his newest whore, taking on two men at the same time,
but Kathy moved as if she'd been doing it all of her life, aware only of the
burning need inside of her for more pleasure. Tom doubted that she even knew
exactly what was happening, the way she was going at them. 

He looked back in time to see a second black cock fill Melissa's tiny body,
plunging into her open mouth to fill her throat. Her eyes snapped open in
surprise, but closed half way, as she groaned in pleasure around the shaft,
as she began sucking on it hungrily. The cabin was filled with the sounds of
slapping flesh, panting, grunting men, and whining, groaning women. 

Jacob and his buddy banged Melissa mercilessly, switching places only after
Jacob had filled her wet seam, to allow her to clean his shaft off, as his
friend completed his own pleasure inside of her snatch, adding a second load
to what was already leaking out of her cunt. Tom saw that Robert had cum in
Kathy's mouth, at least in part. Jorge had pulled her up, so that some of the
other man's cum sprayed onto her neck, and drooled down her chest. She cleaned
the Fortune 500 CEO's cock with seeming delight, gasping, "Yesss!" when Jorge
began to cum inside of her twitching box. 

Another of the men then led her to the second mattress, and within a minute of
having taken Jorge's load, Kathy was on her back, letting another stranger
bang her in the missionary position, her ankles planted at the sides of his
fat waist, spurring him on. Another man dropped to his knees by her head, and
fed her his meat. Tom watched as her head bobbed, while her body bucked up to
meet the thick cock thrusting between her legs. 

The next pair to take Melissa introduced her to real double penetration, the
less endowed man fucking her pussy for a few moments. She rode him like a
cowgirl, facing his feet and clearly getting off on that. Again she voiced her
disappointment when he pulled out of her cunt, and he pulled her back onto his
chest. The pout then became a gasp of delight, when his friend moved over them
and thrust into her open cunt, and then became a cry of pain, as the first man
shoved his cock into her ass. She hadn't been aware of Tom's earlier ass
fucking, and the pain was nearly sufficient to interfere with the drugs. 

The man fucking into her pussy moved up, pressing the top edge of his shaft
against her clit, and within a moment, her quiet voice was crying out, begging
them to 'Fuck me harder!'

The final guest, Tom's tattoo artist, took care of that, pushing his swollen
cock into her mouth. That meant that she was now taking care of not one or two
men at the same time, but three men. The women were fucked endlessly, usually
by at least two men at the same time, throughout the entire flight. When the
captain reported that they were starting their descent, each of the seven
visitors had cum at least twice, leaving a load in each girl's totally filled,
and fucked out cunts. And most had painted them with another offering or had
fed them their cream.

Tom suggested that the women get 'cleaned up', and without any prodding, they
fell into a passionate 69, sucking and licking each other clean. The activity
built to a feverish pitch, until it seemed like the women were devouring one
another. They spasmed in a shrieking mutual climax, just as the wheels squealed
against the tarmac, and they lay there panting together, as the plane rolled
on, taxiing to the hangar. 

Melissa and Kathy were coming down from the drug's effects as they got dressed,
somewhat reluctantly to Tom's amusement, after downing the 'morning after pills'
he'd provided them. The men who just spent the flight using them, offered them
a round of applause, then picked up their bags and exited the plane, as Tom
helped the women collect their own meager belongings. Somehow, both of their
dresses had made it through the melee unscathed.

Tom had a final surprise for his new girls, but kept that to himself, wondering
how the women would react. It was almost cool outside of the plane, and the
women stood there, shivering in their thin dresses. Tom had waited until the
flight crew was off, before he let the girls get up to leave. They stepped
onto the small stairs in the door, Melissa stopping short, when she saw that
the pilots were still standing near the plane, watching the door expectantly.
They seemed to be looking past her though, so she stepped down onto the
concrete and turned, searching for the car that she expected to be waiting for
them.

Tom was last one down the stairs, and said loudly, "Wonderful flight, as usual
gents. Sorry we took so long, I guess you'll want to get home. Oh, I forgot
your gratuity, didn't I?" Tom tried to look sheepish, "I apologize men, but I
didn't have much luck in Vegas this weekend. Can you hold out until the next
trip?"

"Well, Mr. T," the taller of the two said, leaning against the trailing edge
of the port side wing, "That's what you said the last time." 

"And the time before that too!" his partner added. "You might be better off
giving us your money, and letting us lose it."

"Well gents," Tom held up his hands, "I don't know what I can offer you. Any
ideas?"

The pilot smiled, eyeing Melissa openly for the first time, "Well, we could
hear some of what you had going on back there. How about you letting us enjoy
some time with your girls over there, and we'll call it even?"

Tom feigned consideration, it was the last step in their initiation process,
turning a trick in their home city, out in public, right before going home to
their families. He shrugged and said, "I guess that's fair. But you'll have to
do it another night, if you want to take them somewhere, as they have to get
home."

"Oh that won't be necessary." the smaller man said, as he pushed off of his
place by the hangar wall, "We can enjoy them right here, right now!"

He stepped up to the petite blonde and said, "I think I can enjoy this tiny
thing right here by the wing!"

Tom shrugged and nodded, then said, "Great. I'll go get the car then, and come
right back." Then he was gone.

The women looked at each other anxiously. The drug had worn off, and each was
realizing that she was sore from all of the fucking she had done, but they
could guess there'd be trouble if they said no. Taking the initiative, Melissa
strode up to the athletic pilot who had been eyeing her. She dropped to her
knees, opened his flight suit, a different look from commercial pilots, and
began sucking on his semi-erect cock. 

Kathy quickly followed suit, bobbing her head against the big Midwesterner who
had come to fly the plane for the executive, only to find that the fringe
benefits were beyond his wildest imaginations. He looked down, amazed that
such a gorgeous woman would prostitute herself like she was. He also knew that
he'd have to take control, or she'd finish him off, before he really got to
enjoy her.

He reached down, catching the cascade of ebony hair and lifting the woman up
off of his cock. She pressed herself against his body, but was shivering, since
she was bare from the belly down, having already bunched her dress up, just
below her tits, while working on his cock. He pressed his body against her's,
amazed that she didn't resist at all. He rubbed his shaft over her naked pussy
and smiled, as her breath caught. Her hand dropped between them, catching hold
of his shaft, and pausing just long enough to roll a condom that she'd taken
from her purse down the length of his shaft, before pulling him hard against
her mound, and into her. She lifted a leg, rocking her pelvis towards him,
easing more of his cock into her tight seam.

He looked over, shaking his head, as he watched his co-pilot, who'd bent the
little blonde over back edge of the wing, leaving her feet dangling off of the
ground, while he thrust into her doggie style. The brunette's sigh brought him
back to his own situation. She was rocking against him, frigging herself with
one hand, while she worked to get him off. He shifted, catching her taut ass
in his hands to support her more fully. The minute that she relaxed, he fed
his entire cock into her. She stiffened, her breath catching in her throat, as
her body quaked strongly.

But in the next moment, she was bucking against him, actually interested in
the fuck, not just going through the motions like a used up whore. He heard
the blonde whimpering, and looked over to find his mate had flipped the
helpless brunette onto her back, and was ramming into her, in a modified
missionary position, his boots were firmly planted on the asphalt, while her
ass was on the cold metal of the wing. Even so, the woman's ankles were
crossed behind his buddy's back, and she was also eagerly humping with him. 

Headlights washed over all four of them, but the women didn't slow down at all.
Then Tom drove past them, turning the car around behind the plane. He climbed
out of the little front seat, the pilot noted absently that it was a different
car from any he'd seen him driving before. Then again, the women were always
different, so why not a different car. Tom simply leaned against the idling
Jeep, watching, as the women provided the pilots with their tip. 

The pilot considered asking his friend to swap, but just then the brunette
groaned and thrust her pelvis at him even more forcefully, as she began to cum.
Her cunt clenched at him hungrily, spurring him on to the edge, and then over.
He pulsed into the condom, wondering what would happen if one ever leaked.
There was a panting grunt closer to the plane, and he looked up just in time
to see his partner holding himself against the blonde, as he came too. Figuring
that they had started first, he was sure that they'd gone at it longer than
the others.

Stepping back, he did the part that he detested the most, but that his friend
had pointed out was a cheap price to pay to bang so many different fuckable
women. He stripped the condom off, wiping his cum slickened shaft off in her
pubic hairs. His friend went so far as to pull the blonde down from the wing,
and as she tried to stand, and cleaned his cock off in the hair on her head.
Both women pulled away abruptly, without a word, even. And smoothing their
dresses down, as if that could hide what they were, they hurried back to Tom
and the waiting car. Safely inside, Tom pulled out of the airport, looping back
to the south, and into the downtown area.

"I'll show you the apartment, then you two can drive home from there." he said,
maneuvering the vehicle with a skill that betrayed his long hours of practice.

The women were silent, reviewing what they had done, and what they had yet to
do. Tom smiled to himself, there was always a point when his new girls got
back 'home', that the impact of what they had done, what they had enjoyed, hit
them like a ton of bricks. Suddenly they worried that it would somehow be
obvious to their husbands. He thought that it was mostly concern about whether
they'd ever react to the man that they loved in the same way again. 

Of course, it didn't help that they were sitting there, while several other
men's cum was leaking out of their cunts and ass holes or drying on their skin,
and wearing clothes that they would never have worn in public before. He
enjoyed their surprise, when they learned that the apartment that he chose to
show them on their first time out, was half of a duplex, on the hill just
north of the Plaza, near the hospital. Pointing to the door that was 'theirs,'
he selected the key on Kathy's ring, and promised that he would 'talk to them
soon.' He walked up the path to the door with a woman on each arm, openly
groping their breasts, and enjoying the way that both women accepted it,
regardless of who might be watching.

He went as far as the interior landing, making sure that there wasn't already
someone there. It was better to keep the new girls apart from the rest for a
while, until they came to terms with what they were doing. Which was why they
weren't at the main apartment that he kept downtown. Melissa seemed hesitant
to let go of him, when he turned to go, and he paused, asking if she'd had a
good time. She blushed, and nodded. 

He laughed, asking if she was looking forward to having his cock inside of her
again. She nodded again, and reached for him, pouting when he stopped her,
telling them to go clean up and go home. He left the duplex whistling,
confident that he had two more winners for his stable, and wondering, not for
the first time, if there would be more money in selling them overseas. That'd
lead to an investigation of course, but no one could tie the women to him, at
least no one who wasn't involved as well. And the money he'd been offered for
women fitting their description, was almost too good to pass up, the sheik had
a thing about 'married' women, who'd already pledged themselves to another man,
especially if they were Christians, as if it made him fell like a better man.
Tom smiled, wishing that he could tell the brutish man that what made a man a
'Man' was doing things that would bring even a woman being blackmailed into
having sex with strangers, come back for more and more and more.

That answered the question for him, who wanted to lose such fine women for a
single payment, when they could bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars
while working off their 'debt' to him. Tom crossed over to a taxi stand, giving
the driver an address near, but not at his place. Glancing around, he
congratulated himself on another successful 'recruiting weekend'.
 
Inside of the apartment, the women scrubbed and douched and scrubbed some more,
cleansing their hair and bodies of the jism forming curds where it had set.
After checking one another over, and agreeing to a story that the tattoos had
been a drunken mistake, when they'd asked a chorus dancer what her tattoo was,
and had been told that it was 'Lucky', as if that was a character in Vegas,
only to have the tattooist they'd chosen have a different idea of who or what
'Lucky' was.

There was very little conversation on the way home, though each was scared of
what the coming days would bring. How would their husbands react? Would it be
obvious to the men that they'd been balled by almost a dozen strangers? Would
they somehow slip up and betray themselves, maybe putting out like whores
instead of the chaste wives they'd been before, and would they ever be able to
enjoy sex with their husbands again, or could they deny the dark urges to
sample more of Tom's magnificent cock?

There was also the uncertainty that he would call them that week, how long
would they be able to live like housewives, before they were called upon to
serve again as prostitutes. Melissa was already wondering what would happen
when she stepped into a room, to service a John, only to find out that she
knew him. Similar thoughts were echoing in Kathy's mind, as well as a lingering
doubt as to why or how Tom had chosen them. And every time she looked over at
her friend, she felt the flicker of desire, and wondered if she'd be able to
keep her hands off of her for very long. Pulling into Melissa's drive, the
last question was answered, as the blonde leaned over, kissing Kathy
passionately, not caring if Jeff or anyone else saw them doing it. 

Having followed them home, Tom smiled at the exchange, though it wasn't without
risk, if either husband saw that, there'd certainly be fireworks. He guessed
he'd have two days, until one of the husbands made a move, and their wife was
left missing what he'd given them. Then they'd be his forever. He smiled,
looking at the Polaroids that he'd taken of two women at a nearby bar in
Olathe the week before. 

The redhead was stunning, her friend an obvious athlete. He had clients who'd
enjoy each of the woman, just as the two he had just added were already
scheduled for the next, their girls' night out would be spent working an
exclusive bachelor party. Picking up his cell phone, he booked the plane for
following week, hoping to have added two new recruits.




                                Part 9



She felt him again, thrusting endlessly between her spread thighs, grunting
quietly with each forward lunge. Biting her lip, she fought to suppress the
groan that she knew was building in her throat, suddenly desperate for release,
and ashamed to be reacting as she was. But at just that moment, he shifted
higher, the root of his big cock pressing tightly against her erect clit,
rubbing at it endlessly, and quickly she was cuming. Her back arched, her head
dropping back against the motel's thin mattress, her thighs dropping wide,
offering her sex to the stranger firmly seated between them. Her breath didn't
come, and then it rasped into her lungs in a sobbing rush. She was dimly aware
of her hands grasping at his driving buttocks, pulling him close, urging him
on. He wasn't the first to take her that night, nor was he the biggest or the
fattest, and certainly he wasn't more skilled than his friends had been, but
after almost two hours of taking a cock in one manner or another, without
pause, it didn't take much finesse to get her off, just enough friction. It
didn't matter who was getting her off, or that he wasn't trying to make her
cum, after so long without a release, the orgasm satisfied a need that she'd
been denied of for too long. She heard her ragged groan, and felt the way that
it spurred him on. He stiffened a moment later, as she teetered on the
precipice of another climax, and after grunting irregularly for several moments,
holding himself inside of her, the brute backed out, leaving her still wanting.
She glanced drunkenly about the room, looking for the next stranger preparing
to enjoy her ready body, but the others were spent as well, except for the guy,
who reminded her of a boy she'd once wanted in high school, who was still
stroking his cock in and out of the other whore.

She blinked back a tear at that thought, once more trying to reconcile her
situation, as well as what she'd just felt. Taking a deep breath, Melissa
stopped replaying the past three hours, refocusing her attentions on the
present, and trying to block out what she'd just finished doing. What she'd
allowed others to do to her. Again. It no longer threatened to overwhelm her
when she was 'working', as Tom put it casually, and callously. She could lie
there making the appropriate noises, and moving her body convincingly, while
feeling empty and alone.

Strangely, it was only when she came, a simple physiological act, one of the
other girls had reminded her, and something that she would need to feel to
survive her ordeal, that she felt that control, or mental anesthesia, she
wasn't sure which, slip. The simple declaration that she needed to experience
pleasure, in order to tolerate being used by the endless line of unknown men
that she knew were waiting to use her, some time into the future, had been
disturbing when she had first heard it, especially considering that it had
been advice that was offered to her by a younger, and outwardly more innocent
girl than she was. Melissa scolded herself. They all were more innocent than
she now was.

Mel remembered scoffing at the sentiment at the time, even though she'd already
physically known that it was her new reality, thanks to the intensive,
involuntary 'training' that Tom had put them through not so long ago. That
anyone could simply accept that as necessary though, had frightened her at the
time. She'd been convinced that it was a further betrayal. But barely a month
later, she lay there panting in the plain hotel room, surrounded by strangers,
who just used her like a living fuck doll, and without a second thought about
it, she began to finger herself, quickly working herself to an adequate climax.
The world swirled into a kaleidoscope of sensory information, as she came
again, barely aware of the encouraging shouts of the men who suddenly realized
what she was doing, and were gathering around her to watch, and assumed that
she was doing it for them.

Blinking, Melissa stopped reliving the memory of the just finished evening,
checking internally to see if she'd reacted to the flashback physically, an
increasing occurrence that frightened her. She looked at the stranger staring
back at her from the mirror. The green eyes, heavily made up, and her mascara
streaked, after her long performance, seemed dull to her. She knew that there
were dark circles beneath her eyes, hidden by the make-up, she had dutifully
applied in front of the same mirror only three hours before. She ran a hand
through her teased, high-lighted hair, noting the bright flashes of her red
painted fingernails, then reexamined her hairstyle, nearly buzzed at the sides,
while the back was still long. It wasn't her, but even as she thought about
that, she knew otherwise.

Again she wondered if this was all that she'd ever be, a whore, a slave to
men's cocks. It didn't seem possible that so much could have changed, in just
a few months time, but it had. Otherwise, she'd never have been comfortable,
much less blase, about sitting beside a relative stranger, stark naked and
considering her face. And the act that she had just so willingly performed, no
not just one act, but a string of acts really, without even considering the
consequences of it. But she'd learned to endure, and to her fright, and disgust
at times, to even enjoy many of the new things that she was doing. Closing her
eyes again, as if she could shut out such thoughts, she took a deep breath,
then blinked them back open, letting her gaze return to the mirror.

Her eyes dropped to her breasts, one nipple was glittering where she'd been
pierced and ringed. She had been amazed to find out that Tom had apparently
been telling the truth, when he said that 'all of his girls' were so adorned.
Even the black woman sitting next to her, had silver rings on her nipples, and
sported a barely visible tattoo. She would've easily missed the latter, but
the woman's pubes had been as up close and personal, as was physically possible
only a short while ago. Mel's tongue traced her lips, the memory of the other
woman's taste still lingering in her mind. That was one of those enjoyable
moments that she'd once never even considered a possibility. It'd been
essentially the high point of the finished evening. She was startled at that
thought, shocking herself anew.

It had been a surprise to find herself working with a black woman, not out of
prejudice, but because to her knowledge that Tom's clients were almost
exclusively black, and had seemed to take a particular delight with the idea
of 'despoiling' white wives. Melissa had sometimes wondered how garishly she'd
be painted, if the facade of the innocent, unwilling married woman wasn't a
selling point. Except that it wasn't a facade, she WAS a married woman, a
mother and a school teacher. And now, though not wholly unwilling anymore, she
was also a prostitute, on a pretty regular basis.

Never mind that she received less money than the lowest street walker she'd
passed while driving to the 'meeting' that night, it was a horrifying, but
undeniable reality, she gave herself to strange men for money. In the three
months that she'd been "working" for Tom, she'd slept with more men than she
could count, all of them total strangers, who saw her as nothing more than
meat for their amusement and had more sexual encounters than she probably would
have had in a life time. She shivered, amazed that she could even find any
pleasure in that existence, but aware as well that she'd already have gone mad
if there hadn't been some bright spots, in the living nightmare that her life
had become.

She glanced at the other girl. Younger also, but more comfortable in her role,
Melissa thought. The woman noticed her stare and returned it. She offered a
smile, that stopped somewhere just short of her eyes, the sort of smile open,
outgoing Melissa had been developing unconsciously. 

"Relax, girl." The other woman said, as she waved a similarly painted manicure
at Melissa, "That wasn't too bad. Some a them boys could really use their meat,
you know? I managed to get off more times tonight than I have all week at home!"

Melissa nodded reflexively, fervently hoping that she'd never compare what
she'd just done, with what she still tried to enjoy in her own bedroom at home
with Jeff. She'd diligently forced consideration of the sex that she had just
experienced, as wholly different from making love to Jeff. It was already so
horrid to consider how thoroughly that she had betrayed the man that she loved,
that she refused to believe that she could so callously compare what they
shared, with the things that she did for Tom's profit or pleasure. 

She set about combing her hair, and tried not to worry about Kathy's absence.
They were supposed to meet right there, to offer what little consolation they
could, after another night of selling themselves, and more importantly, to
agree on what they would tell their husbands. Again, the web of lies seemed
more and more tangled, except that neither Fred nor Jeff seemed in the least
bit suspicious. To them it was just another of the 'girls' night out', that
they'd been enjoying long before Tom had ensnared them.

Acutely aware that she couldn't carry any sign of her infidelity home, Melissa
stood, and turned before the mirror, trying to eyeball every inch of her skin
for any lasting impression that she might have to explain. So far, none of the
men who'd been inside of her, had seemed interested in leaving any sign that
Jeff might notice, though at times she was sure that was only because they
were too stupid to think of it, or maybe Tom's rules had enough force backing
them to prevent it. 

She considered asking Shanille to check her over, but opted instead to wait
for Kathy to return. She glanced at the clock, glad that at least the group
that had worked Shanille and her over had been done right at ten. At the same
time, seeing that it was approaching twenty after, Melissa couldn't suppress a
growing concern for her friend. She began to pace, not caring about her nudity,
as she unwillingly began to consider the things that might have happened. 

"Chill out girl!" Shanille said, watching her pace in the mirror, "It's cool.
She'll be back, and you'll be home tucked in beside Little Dick before you
know it."

Mel resisted turning on the taller woman and confronting her. Maybe
dissatisfaction with her man was why Shanille was working for Tom, but Melissa
knew better than to get into such a discussion. 

The first month, after their 'education' in Las Vegas, Tom had sent them out
together. They'd serviced a single, obviously wealthy black man their first
week 'in the rotation,' a man barely able to speak English. Kathy had whispered
to Melissa, as they'd smiled and nodded at the man, that 'it couldn't be too
bad.' 

Three hours later though, they'd each endured being fucked in the mouth, cunt,
and ass by the man, as well as by his bodyguards, who'd taken turns with both
women after their client was spent. Neither had expected any 'easy' jobs,
since. They'd worked side by side in a downtown hotel room, not a nice place,
the next weekend, calmly servicing a seemingly endless supply of strangers that
Tom brought in three at a time, with a buxom redhead lying to Melissa's left.
She shivered from the memory of her recent orgasms, wondering how long the
other girl had been at it, the way she'd seemed to truly enjoy the endless
supply of cock. When Kathy had asked her about it afterwards, the redhead had
shrugged and said she'd learned 'long ago' to get what pleasure she could out
of the 'arrangement'. Melissa no longer remembered that she'd been horrified
at the time, but she knew after not so much more experience, that the woman
had been right, all it'd taken to change her mind was a few weeks time, and a
couple dozen men.

Tom had been present at their third 'job' as well, deftly slipping full face
leather masks onto their heads, after having them each sign a long legal form.
He reminded them when Kathy hesitated, that he had more than enough videotape
on them, to ruin their lives anyway. He'd made sure that their hair was
arranged through the openings provided just for that purpose, and when Melissa
had complained about it being hard to breathe, he laughed, telling her he'd
take it off if she wanted, but since they were going to be filmed having sex
that night, he thought that she and Kathy would want to remain 'mystery pussy.'

Their three hours that night had been another endless string of men moving
between their legs, thrusting into her and Kathy, taking her without any
regard for her own pleasure. She'd been glad for Tom's presence then, feeling
helpless, as she lay blind on a musty old mattress, feeling it shift with the
motion of Kathy's 'guests', as well as her own. At least having their 'pimp'
in the room meant that there'd be no argument about using condoms. 

Their first 'John,' was a foreigner, and had been opposed to using them when
Kathy had torn a package open, but she'd stood her ground, threatening to
leave and call Tom. The man and his bodyguards had reluctantly let the women
apply the latex condoms. The lessons that Tom had taught them, had a way of
making a lasting impression.

That was also why both women had obediently fingered themselves, and each other
for the cameras, and had used whatever 'toys' he'd told them too use, as well.
Afterwards, Melissa had been tempted to search for her image on the Internet,
but she'd resisted, afraid of what she'd find. 

During the second month, Tom had arranged for both women to have sex with
several of his clients in the back of a porn theater. a thoroughly disgusting,
but strangely exciting evening, Melissa had admitted to Kathy afterwards, and
was glad when her friend agreed with that assessment. That was the first night
that she remembered wanting to feel something between her legs, aware of a
need to get off, while putting out for her pimp's customers. And she had too,
so well that she'd drawn attention from many others in the theater, who
bargained with Tom for a piece of the action.\

Though she'd gotten off repeatedly that night, it had been a sobering
experience to learn that Tom would sell them out to anyone with the money.
Until that point, she'd held to the misguided notion that their persecutor was
at least vetting his clientele, and looking out for them. As sobering was the
'move' to the shared quarters that she was sitting in now. In the heart of
downtown, the grubby little place was next door to the hotel where Tom claimed
'most of his work' went on. It wasn't half as nice as the place they'd used at
first, a place that he explained was for 'special clients', such as when a
John spent more than an hour or three with Tom's girls.

The next week, Tom had met them in the tiny apartment, where they were supposed
to leave their things before any 'engagement', as he often turned their tricks.
To the girls' surprise and fear, he separated them, sending Kathy off in the
company of another brunette, while a second blonde drove Melissa to a
bachelor party, where they'd been expected to dance, and then put out. On the
way back, Mel had made the mistake of asking about the girl that she'd just
spent as intimate an evening as was possible, putting on a lesbian show before
willingly offering herself to a dozen total strangers, who each took turns
humping into both women again and again and again. 

In doing so, she'd violated one of Tom's rules, first names or nicknames only.
She thought that it was a stupid rule, never considering why he insisted on
such limited knowledge. But not only had the girl been unresponsive to the
point that Melissa was insulted, to her horror, the girl had proceeded to tell
Tom about the conversation. Tom then calmly kissed the girl, whispering
something into her ear, then turned and smiled, as he told Melissa that he was
transferring two of the other girl's 'weeks of service' to her as punishment
for her disobedience.

It was the last time that Melissa did anything regarding her 'second career'
without considering her master's rules. What had frightened her the most at
the time, was the thought that she'd have to 'work' for two weeks without
Kathy's presence. She'd never thought to ask how many tricks '2 weeks' meant,
since before he'd always spoken of the number of men that she'd have to
service. The subtle shift from quantity of men to time was lost on her, even
as she remembered the past weeks' 'work.' 

Since that week, though 'working' at the same time, she and Kathy hadn't been
together for a job, managing barely enough time on the drive to and from their
girls' nights out, to get their stories straight. At Tom's suggestion, both
were asking co-workers about movies that they'd seen, getting little facts
that could protect them, should their husbands ask questions, or God forbid
get together and talk about what their women had been doing. 

Melissa eyed Shanille, wondering again about the woman, how long she'd been
working for Tom, how or why she'd gotten into such a hopelessly unrewarding
position. But she didn't ask. Instead, seeing her partner for the evening
replacing a handful of condoms in her 'cubbie' beside the make-up table, she
heard herself ask something safe.

"How'd you have that many left? There were six guys here, and several of them
were after me for second's. And I only have two left." Shanille laughed. 

"Girl, you got to learn to, uh, like, make them last. They wear the coat if
they want to get between my legs, and if they put it in my back door, they
change before they get the good stuff again, but in my mouth, I don't know how
you do it. I can't stand the taste."

"But."

"But nothing, girl. You use the condoms to keep them from filling you up down
there. Taking a load now and then in the mouth won't hurt. Hell, sometimes
they're so excited, that's all they can do. In fact, I sometimes don't take a
condom at all." she said, smiling at Melissa's surprised expression.

"Haven't you heard about them fancy female condoms?" Melissa shook her head.

"They're like a big sleeve. a plastic sock, so a guy can dip his wick bare,
and not give you an unwanted package. You should try it." 

Melissa nodded grudgingly, still unconvinced, but any further discussion was
interrupted by the prolonged scrabbling of a key at the lock of the community
apartment's front door. A moment later, Kathy came in, her hair disheveled,
eyes more blank than Melissa's had seemed a moment before. Melissa rushed to
her friend.

"Kathy? Are you OK, hon?" Getting no response, Melissa shook the taller woman
forcefully, "Talk to me, Kathy. What is it?" The usually self-assured brunette
stared through Melissa, walking stiff-legged into the room, her face an
expressionless mask.

"Kathy!" Melissa's nearly shouting, as she thought of a dozen possibilities,
"What's wrong?!"

Her friend reached the bathroom that opened into the studio apartment's single
room, closing the door behind her without answering. Melissa heard the shower
start, the glass door slide closed, and stood outside the door wondering what
could have happened, and what she should do. Shanille was suddenly busily
packing her things, making the same double and triple checks for missing, or
extra items, just as Melissa would do before she left for home. 

Glancing nervously at the bathroom door, Shanille nodded at Mel, then left
without a word, which somehow amplified Melissa's anxiety over Kathy's behavior.
She checked the door, relieved to find that it unlocked, and began to open it,
worried at what she might find behind the thin plywood barrier. 

Kathy's dress, Tom's actually, since he provided all of their clothes, what
little that he allowed them to wear, for their 'dates, weren't hanging on the
hook by the shower, or in the open hamper atop the semen stained clothes that
Melissa and Shanille had discarded upon their return. Melissa had once wondered
if the neighbors wondered about the endless, she guessed, parade of women
flouncing in and out of the apartment at odd hours, but she had seldom seen
anyone else in the hall. She quickly realized that the neighbors were likely
just glad that their 'neighbors' were quiet. 

Such thoughts were far from her mind, as Melissa's eyes found her friend,
huddled in the corner of the shower. The water sounded strange, and with a
sudden urgency, she opened the door, hard enough that it rebounded from the
rubber stop, closing back half of the way before Melissa stopped it. Staring
at her friend, she saw that the hand-held showerhead was positioned firmly
between her legs. Her dress was bunched to her waist, exposing her trim, taut
thighs and hips, her calf muscles were tensed as she sat there in a crouch.
The brunette's eyes were pinched in response to the discomfort of the steaming
hot water, as it blasted against her naked sex.

Melissa stared for a handful of seconds, wondering what could have happened.
Certainly it wasn't anal sex, though both women had been 'anal virgins' before
that fateful trip to Las Vegas, though neither could claim such any longer.
Their first trick, with that foreign business man, or dignitary, and his body
guards, had Melissa thinking that she'd been torn apart, she'd limped into the
Plaza apartment, expecting to find on her abused body, signs that her husband
couldn't miss, only to find nothing. 

Since then, they'd learned by watching the other more experienced women, who
were not uncommonly getting ready at the same time that they were. In addition
to the ever, present supply of condoms, which the women were to supply out of
their own funds. There were always several tubes of KY jelly or other
lubricants, which she and Kathy soon realized that the 'veterans' used in both
orifices, as there was no telling what the men that they were meeting would
want to do.

Melissa had quickly decided that all men had a basic perversion, a need to do
things to women, that the women would not typically offer or enjoy. At the
same time, she couldn't deny that sometimes, as a man was thrusting eagerly at
her back door, that she came just as strongly then, as at any time that she
had a man filling her cunt. For Kathy, who was more frequently taking men in
both holes at the same time, since Tom had 'turned them out,' doing anal seemed
second nature already, so Mel was sure that wasn't the issue. 

Similarly, many of Tom's 'clients' seemed to have been especially gifted, so
far as the size of their sexual equipment was concerned. She and Kathy had
discussed whether their husbands were, in fact, much smaller than average,
which both of them doubted, or whether the men seeking Tom's assistance had
problems with all but 'professionals', due to their enormous size. More than
once, Mel had heard Tom or another girl laugh, when someone complained about a
guy being 'too big,' as he'd point out that if a baby could pass between a
woman's thighs, then there was no cock that could be 'too big.' But then again,
no one was volunteering to give birth as frequently as Tom was making 'his
girls' spread their legs, and accept those huge organs either.

Mercifully, few had been close to the size of the tool swinging between Tom's
thighs, or some those that the women had survived in their Vegas weekend of
initiation. While most of her tricks, she guessed, were a bit larger than
Jeff's, when she allowed herself to compare them at all, she could remember at
least three men who'd been much smaller than her husband, and on those
occasions, she was more than happy to compare him to the men who'd used her.
Having taken a 10" tool herself that night, Melissa was sure that size wasn't
the root of her friend's state, either.

"Kathy?" Melissa shouted, as she said a silent thanks for the continuing rain
outside, as she bent down towards her friend, aware that she was getting a bit
wet in the process herself. The brunette didn't seem aware of her presence. Up
close, Melissa could see tears glistening on Kathy's cheeks.

Worry became alarm, and she reached down, shaking her friend's soaked shoulder
forcefully as she shouted again, "Kathy! What's wrong?"

Her friend blinked, wiped feebly at one eye with the back of her hand, smearing
mascara all over her wet skin. Her gaze was finally focusing, and meeting
Melissa's. The eyes mirrored the emotional void that Melissa had feared she
saw in her own reflection just minutes before, but there was something more
unsettling as well, fear. An icy sensation clenched at Melissa's stomach, as
she knelt, heedless of the spray rising from her friend's exposed crotch to
soak the front of her own clothes. Despite the steam filling the small space,
Kathy was shivering violently, her face was ghostly pale. Melissa feared the
'John' Kathy had 'entertained' that night had done something horrific to her
friend. 

"What happened? What did the bastard do?" she said plaintively.

She didn't stop to think about the solution that came to her mind first, "I'll
call Tom. He'll take care of it."

As she moved to rise, Kathy's right hand closed over her forearm, holding her
in place. Their locked gaze had never wavered, and for a moment, Melissa didn't
realize that she'd seen her friend's lips move in a silent answer.

She shook her head and asked, "What?"

Again the whisper of something lost in the hiss of the shower water.

"I still didn't..." 

"It broke."

The words were delivered with a sigh that seemed to wrack her body in the
moment before Kathy sobbed in earnest. Reaching up and back, Melissa groped
for the shower control, and turned the pounding spray off, then leaned in
fully, circling her arms around her shivering friend, pulling her out of her
crouch in the shower, supporting the larger woman.

Kathy was still mumbling, and shaking her head slightly, "It broke... it broke
... it broke."

Melissa jerked her friend's soaked clothing off, throwing the garment into the
sink, and helping Kathy to the closed toilet, before she went to work drying
her off. She wondered what Kathy meant, unable to guess, and still uncertain
as to whether Tom needed to be called. He'd given them an emergency number,
warning them that any abuse would increase their 'debt.' She'd read enough
thrillers to guess that the phone wasn't his, and that any use would mean his
changing to a new number, as the number they'd been given hadn't changed while
they'd been working, but it was always provided at the same time he or his
'receptionist' called to alert them of their 'schedule.' That meant it wasn't
often that he got 'emergency' calls. Melissa cringed, wondering about the
severity of the penalty if she called. 

She delayed calling him, as she was more concerned with her friend's immediate
situation. Kathy had quieted down, her body jerking periodically with
persistent, but silent sobs, as Melissa finished drying her off. Grabbing the
robe that she'd discarded before changing at the mirror, Mel wrapped her
friend up, leading her to the threadbare couch in the middle of the apartment's
single central room. She left her alone only long enough to grab a glass out
of the cupboard, and to pour an inch of the cheap whiskey that someone kept on
the bar between the kitchenette and the main room. As an after thought she
brought the bottle along, watching, as her friend accepted the glass with
tremulous hands, downing the bitter amber liquid in a single swallow. The
second and third glasses, which went down as quickly, were smaller volumes,
mercifully.

Melissa set the half empty bottle on the pressed board coffee table, wrapping her
arms around her friend, rocking and whispering nonsense, trying to be
comforting. After several minutes, Kathy gave a single shuddering sigh, as her
body relaxed. Melissa saw that she was biting her lip absently in worry. They'd
always been close friends, and the shared misery that they were enduring had
made them something more, though neither had admitted as much, both had
realized the joys of lesbian love, and their shared feelings while in Vegas,
but had been afraid or unable to spend further time together since, apart from
some brief 'performances' for some of the 'Johns' they'd serviced together, as
there simply wasn't enough time for them to be together, apart from the time
that they'd surrendered to Tom. Resisting the urge to kiss her friend with the
passion that she felt, Melissa rested her forehead on Kathy's temple,
whispering instead. "What happened K?"

Kathy dragged in another ragged breath, and for a moment, Melissa feared her
friend would pull away from her.

"It broke." she repeated to Melissa's alarm, though she seemed in better
control of herself now.

Mel waited, but no explanation was forthcoming, so she asked, "What broke,
hon?"

She saw Kathy blink back a tear, and bite at her upper lip again, before
answering. "The condom. It broke... And he came inside of me." Her body began
to quiver again, as emotion overwhelmed her reserve. "It broke, Mel. What am I
gonna do? I could be... I might..."

"You may be pregnant." Melissa finished. Kathy nodded mutely.

"Shhh." Melissa soothed, "It'll be all right."

"How?!" Kathy's response was an almost anguished cry. "If I am, Fred'll kill
me. I can't be. I can't go through with it." Melissa imagined herself in
Kathy's shoes, and shivered at the image.

"He had a vasectomy?" Funny, they'd never mentioned such things before. Kathy
shook her head.

"No. but he'd know."

"How? I mean... Oh." Melissa said, realization struck home with an awful
clarity. Tom's clients were predominantly black and Hispanic. "He was black."

Kathy nodded at the statement, it wasn't a question. The women sat silently
for several minutes, before Melissa ventured, "You're sure he came... inside
of you?"

Kathy nodded morosely. "Oh yeah. It was a single guy. He was handsome enough,
and funny. He even took me out to dinner, believe it or not."

Melissa suppressed a sudden surge of jealousy, none of her tricks had seemed
at all interested in her. "We danced, and then went to his room. He was gentle
and caring. It was almost like being with Fred, but a Fred built like Adonis.
He ate me out, while I sucked him off. God, I came like I can't remember from
having a man, and I was glad that I hadn't put a condom on him yet."

Melissa was surprised to learn that. She'd only that night learned about
skipping the condom for oral. 

"I got him hard again, and he'd gotten me off again, and then I rolled the
condom onto him. One of those ribbed Trojans that was in the drawer tonight.
God, it was amazing. He took me like he hadn't had sex in years, but he didn't
cum, and he didn't cum. We started out with him on top, and then I was on top,
and then we were doing it doggie style. I was pounding back against him, cuming
and cuming, and not caring that it wasn't Fred. Hell, at that very moment, I
was glad that it wasn't Fred, it felt so good. Then he gasped that he was going
to cum. I pushed back, trying to milk him like that redhead told us the other
time, you know, those Kegel things? He held on to my hips, and held himself
buried, and I swear, that I could feel it boiling out of his cock, and into me.
I shivered and cried out and came again, wondering why it felt so strange. And
then he backed out, and went to take the condom off. He said 'Uh, oh.' and I
froze. I remember turning around, and seeing his cock jutting out of the torn
end of the condom. I swear that my heart stopped. I cried out, reaching down
and feeling the first of his cum leaking out of my cunt."

She stopped for a moment, controlling her emotions with great effort. "The
scary thing is, part of me didn't care. I was still tingling from the climaxes
he'd given me, and part of me was happy that he'd cum inside of me. It felt so
..." Kathy wrapped her arms tighter about her torso, as if against the cold.
"and then he smiled and said 'Well, it's too late now, we might as well enjoy
ourselves.' and he took me twice more, without bothering to use another condom.
HE just laughed when I asked him to. He said, 'Bitch! If you're not already
preggers from me, this won't knock you up.' and by that time he'd already be
balls deep inside of me. And God help me, I was humping up at him, ready to
let him fuck me like that for as long as he wanted. I even kept cuming. It
wasn't until he led me back down to the cab that he smiled, no, leered is more
like it, and said, 'Hope my baby has a good daddy to raise him,' as he closed
the door.

"I sat there in shock throughout the ride. And the cabbie... he kept eyeing me
and shaking his head, like he'd heard what the John said to me, and knew what
was going on."

She reached for the glass again, filling it half way and downing it in three
jagged swallows, before sagging back against Melissa, "What am I going to do?"

Melissa shook her head in sympathy, "That's horrible, baby. But it's over. And
you're fine. You don't even know that you're pregnant." 

"But I could be. Or I could have... I could have caught anything..." 

"Shhh. We'll tell Tom. He'll have the guy tested. He'll have you tested. If
you're late, we'll get a test, if it's positive... we'll cross that bridge
when we get there." She reached out, raising her friend's face, to meet her
gaze. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault. And no one will ever know, even if
you are pregnant. We'll take care of this. We'll get through all of this
together."

Kathy nodded, but Melissa was disheartened at the dead glaze to her friend's
eyes.

"Do you want me to call Tom?" she asked, and without waiting for Kathy to
answer, she went on, "Remember, he'll probably call tomorrow morning or
Saturday with another 'job', and we can tell him then, otherwise. If we call
and he doesn't think it's an emergency, we'll have to work even longer for him.
None of this can change, and nothing will be sure for several days, but if you
want, I'll call him right now." Melissa stopped, hoping not to have seemed too
insensitive.

Her friend sighed, then shook her head slightly. "No. Let's just get cleaned
up and go home. I'll have to wait to see what happens." Both remembered the
pill he'd provided in Las Vegas. He could take care of it for them. The
question was whether he would, or how much it would cost them. 

Across town, Tom glanced down at the cell phone, clipped unobtrusively to his
belt. It was set on 'vibrate,' and had a full charge. He kept it with him
whenever 'his girls' were working, which anymore was every night, and most days.
He'd brought in a friend, who was learning the ropes of 'procurement', and was
coming along nicely, though he found that he missed the excitement of the
chase, and especially knowing that he was the first to adulter most of his
whores' marriages. He considered calling the apartment to see if there'd been
any problem, but this wasn't a work night for him, as well. He trusted the
guys he'd sent girls to that night, they were old customers, and even the new
girls hadn't shown any inclination at causing trouble, since he'd fined the
blonde for being nosy.

He thought about Mike, who'd done some shady things for him on the periphery
of his enterprise for more than a year, more than long enough to put two and
two together. The man was smooth, but not too smooth, a frustrated lawyer
working in a lab across town. They'd met fortuitously when Dwayne had been
trying to figure a way to get his KC girls checked, when needed, without
jumping through the hoops that most doctors seemed intent on putting in front
of them. Tom hated situations where he had to give control to anyone else. 

Mike had signed on the minute that he'd heard 'Tom's' sob story about his
'girlfriend,' and offered to run the tests for them, adding that he could get
whatever pharmaceuticals that they might need, as well. Of course, when Dwayne
had appeared with a pair of girls a week later, the younger man had been taken
aback. But he'd been even more eager to help, especially at the prospect of a
little 'bonus' intimacy, once the girls were proven clean. 

Still masquerading as his 'Tom' alter, ego, Dwayne had carefully checked his
potential new 'partner' out, and everything he'd learned had been positive.
The guy was as cool as ice. He didn't get rattled, didn't worry about or
moralize or rationalize what he was doing. As long as no one was getting hurt,
or for that matter, so long as no one who got hurt could get him in trouble,
he was happy to do whatever Tom asked, for his weekly vig, and a piece of
whatever ass Tom sent his way. And while he didn't worry about other people
getting hurt in their little venture, he wasn't eager to see it happen either.

Dwayne had learned the hard way, when he'd turned over a promising Cleveland
'enterprise' to a slick, but sick fellow, that psychopaths can do all right
for a while as the boss, but they're a poison pill, when you turn your back.
The moment he'd moved on to set up in St. Louis, the nut he'd meant to take
charge had screwed things up so badly, that it had very nearly ruined that
entire branch of his perpetually expanding business. Luckily, the guy had been
... taken care of. That'd been the return of a favor he'd done a big hitter in
the Cincinnati area, and having weathered the fallout from that potential
disaster, Dwayne had been a lot more careful since. 

Michael had laughed about the tests 'Tom' had given him, when approaching the
younger man about assuming a 'bigger role' in his operation, but he'd agreed
without hesitation, and none of the tests had suggested that he was more
unstable than anyone else Dwayne worked with regularly. He looked to be the
most stable of his partners. That was good, since KC was nearly the center of
his operation, and he'd been working the city for nearly two years, longer
than any place except Denver and Omaha. Lately the risks that complacency
carried, seemed to outweigh the benefits of knowing more about the people and
places around him. He figured that it was about time to move on to another
major city to 'open up another franchise' as he liked to  explain it to his
'investors'.

The key was to stay long enough that things were settled and would work without
constant attention, without staying so long as to get entangled in the things
that invariably happen, once an operation is underway. Dwayne, as Tom, still
had a hand in what was happening in nearly all of the places that he'd worked
his scheme. In a couple places, one of 'the girls' had proven so adept at
handling the others, and the Johns, that he'd left them in charge of
recruiting and scheduling, visiting only to 'provide the meat' as one such
madam termed his manner of ensnaring the women. Or to iron out the problems
that infrequently arose in dealing with customers. 

Considering that it was housewives running San Antonio and Denver, he admitted
women could do a better job of keeping things together, though they were also
hesitant to let him 'solve' the problem cases, knowing what that meant. That
was a plus of turning the operations over to men. And whenever he chose to do
that, he'd always maintained his own 'rights' to the girls' 'services' and ran
a sub-business shuttling women from city to city, to fulfill 'special orders'
or handle conventions and the like. And of course he handled the 'problem
cases' and worked to increase their customers in whatever city he was operating
or had operated. 

In many cases his own initial 'recruits' had finished their terms and had gone
back to the suburbs, a nice way to limit his exposure, where he wasn't
operating. At the same time, it was flattering to know that several of the
women he'd tricked into tricking, had developed a taste for it, and were doing
it even after they'd worked themselves 'free.' and he took steps to hide
himself. Even around the women, he was always dressed well, but not too well,
and kept his sunglasses on almost constantly. And even if someone did start to
look for him, if someone found out about 'Tom', they'd find that avenue a dead
end.

While Dwayne was known to his friends and women as Tom, there was nothing he
knew of, to connect Tom with Dwayne. Looking for him would trigger alerts he'd
carefully placed throughout the state, and into the capital. He'd melt away,
and all anyone after him would find was a phantom, After all, he wasn't really
Dwayne, either. Nor any of four other identities he'd developed over the
nearly two decades that he'd been plying his 'trade'. The two he'd picked out
of the yuppie bar, would be his last 'crop' from KC. Given that consideration,
he was glad that things were operating smoothly. Six more months tops, to get
Michael up to speed, and he'd be gone to greener pastures. 

"Hey Dwayne! You want another?" the bartender, a family man that Dwayne
considered a friend, but one he consciously kept oblivious to how Dwayne
Richards made a living, shouted jovially, pointing at the nearly empty mug in
front of him.

"Sure Tiny." he answered, "Give me another root beer."

The big man laughed, and shook his head. "Boys," he began telling the others
irregularly lining the bar, "time was when Mr. Richards here drank enough to
keep me in business single handedly!"

Dwayne waved him off. "Flatterer."

"It's truth!" the bartender/owner countered, "You were amazing in your day." 

"Ouch!" Dwayne said smiling broadly, "I thought this still was my day."

The bartender smiled, showing large white teeth, the right front capped with
his initial in a garish red semi-precious stone. "You sure you aren't drinking
something harder, then?" Tiny razzed him as he set the foam capped mug down in
front of Dwayne.

Dwayne's smile vanished, as he felt a vibration on the other side of his belt.
His pager, or rather, Tom's pager. It was best to keep his business and
personal lives totally separate, considering the sort of profession he
practiced. He glanced at the screen of the alphanumeric pager, keying in with
the arrow keys the security code that he'd added as an extra feature. He
glanced at the number and stood, waving to Tiny. 

"Keep my beer cold, will ya? I gotta visit the john." Tiny nodded, and waved
absently.

And Dwayne, now Tom, sauntered to the back of the bar. Standing in the small,
vacant bathroom, he dialed the number on the phone located inside the men's
room, a touch he had appreciated in choosing this bar, waiting through three
rings. 

"'Lo Tom. Is that you?" It was Lionel, the advertising exec from Chicago. He'd
set him up with the brunette, Kathy. Tom paused, remembering what she felt
like, there was a fire inside of her that he really enjoyed. 

"Yeah. What's up?" It was best to keep things to a minimum, even on a random
pay phone like he was using. He was careful not to leave any prints on the
phone, and guessed that he wouldn't be back to that bar.

"There was... look man, there was a problem. I didn't do anything. I don't
want to have you find out from anyone else for... you know. So I wanted to
call and tell you myself."

"Tell me what?"

"Your girl? The leggy brunette? I uh... the uh, condom failed, man, ripped or
something, and I filled her up."

"You did." Tom considered the information. He hadn't gotten a call, so maybe
the girl wasn't worried about it. Or maybe she was terrified, but wouldn't
risk the extra time that using his cell phone would cost her, she'd learned
that lesson the easy way, watching her friend get a couple of 'penalty weeks'.
He tried to calculate the risks, based on the intimate details he required the
girls to provide, as their only 'off' week was when they were bleeding. He
smiled to himself. Such 'accidents' were inevitable, and he'd learned to use
them to his advantage. A woman scared of getting preggers would agree to the
Depo shots he could provide, which would mean that she'd stop bleeding, so he
could work her every week for a while. Of course, it wasn't all perfect, he
knew, other questions needed answering. "Are you clean?" 

"I swear it, man. I swear. If you want, I'll take a test."

"Damn right you'll take a test. That's the agreement at the get go. You'll
also pay for her tests."

"But..." Tom knew men enough to ask the right questions to end that sort of
argument.

"How many times did you cum inside of my girl?" There was an uncomfortable
pause that was answer enough. The guy was wondering whether the whore would be
loyal to him or Tom.

"Three times, man." Tom made another mental note to punish Kathy for letting
the guy do it after the accident, which he knew could easily not have been an
accident, but this guy had been with him a long time, and should know the cost
of such a screw up.

"Uh, huh. That gets checked too, you know." He didn't pause for an answer,
"But this way you get her test results too. That should be fair enough." He
sighed, then recited an address, "Stop there in the morning. Ask for Mike.
Tell him that Tom sent you. He'll collect the money for two sets of tests, and
the MAP," he spoke the acronym, 'map'. 

"A map?"

"Yeah man. It's all in the fine print." and it was. Tom kept everything on
file, hard copies and computer back-ups. In an age where criminals could sue
for damages incurred during their criminal activities, he took no chances.
"You're paying for a morning after pill, so you don't have to worry about
child support later." 

"What if she won't take it? I mean..."

"They're my girls. They do what I say!" Tom almost snarled into the phone,
"Why, are you thinkin' that you're gonna take her away from all of this?" 

"No man, I... I mean she was nice. I'd like to do her again when I'm in town.
That's all."

"Uh, huh. Just remember, I'm the reason she'll do you at all. We'll see about
the next time man. Have to see how all this shakes out first. Now you got that
address and name?" He listened as the man read them back in response. "Good.
Now I gotta get a hold of the bitch and get this straight. Hope you had fun,
man."

"You're kiddin?" Dwayne could hear the man's smile through the phone.

"I'm serious, she was the best I've had. Really seemed to be enjoying it too,
you know? That blew my mind."

"It'd blow her hubby's mind, too, but that's what I can provide, my man.
Later."

He hung up, then returned to the bar, downing his drink quickly, before waving
a good-bye to Tiny, and stepping into the steamy, post-rain air. He resisted
the urge to call the apartment on the emergency phone. That would mean getting
another clone, and that would upset all of the girls. He was guessing the
little blonde, Melissa, had calmed her friend down, and that they'd decided to
wait until he called with their next appointment. 

He smiled to himself, admitting both were doing just fine, though it wouldn't
keep him from dealing them when the time came. It was funny, the way most of
the women seemed relieved at the end. He guessed that they were tired of
leading a double life. Of course, he led a double life as well, a thought
which brought another smile to his face, as he considered how well his
'financial consultant' cover business had fared during the dot com boom.
Especially since he had closed things down in preparation for his next move,
and so had missed the bloodbath, as the businesses started dropping back to
reality.

The girls, though... they didn't ever really have a chance after they met him,
he knew. Almost universally, by the time their debt was paid, they'd been
beaten down by the guilt that they felt for what they'd allowed to happen to
them again and again and again. It got to the point that they didn't really
seem to care any more what happened to them, as if they deserved whatever
punishment that they received. He knew that several had continued to work for
a time, just to punish themselves.

Others got hooked on the sex. He'd heard the media zealots shouting about 'sex
addictions', but he didn't really believe in that. It was more that they
learned to like something most women would never consider experimenting with.
More than one of his housewives had left, only to return a few weeks later,
asking to work for pay. And the few who got uppity, or threatened to mess
things up, well the bars south of the border, and the estates in the Middle
East provided an ample means of ridding himself of such bothers, with a
minimum of risk. He didn't expect such an end for any of his current crew
though. Even the pair he'd 'trained' in the wake of Kathy and Melissa's
recruitment seemed to be adapting to their new lives.

Turning the key to start his Escalante, Dwayne paused to jot a few cryptic
notes into his password secured PDA, before he pulled out, heading for his
place. Part of him wished he'd stopped by 'the girls' apartment to enjoy a bit
of the talent he'd 'discovered. Glancing at the planner's calendar feature, he
shrugged, guessing they'd be his 'babies' for less than a month, maybe just a
couple more weeks. Michael's first pair was ready to be reeled in, and then
he'd hand over the reins of the operation, for a tidy chunk of cash, and a
continued percentage of the girls' earnings.



                                Part 10



Melissa didn't stop to think about the fact that she was suddenly anxious for
a call from the man who'd ruined her life. She'd tried to sleep after dropping
a passably drunk Kathy at her home, but rest had eluded her. She'd searched
the web, using her own older computer, rather than the family's broadband
connection to hide her 'surfing', a practice she'd spent uncounted hours at,
after being ensnared by Tom. She was certain that there was some way out,
something about Tom that she could learn about, and then trade that poop for
Kathy's and her freedom. 

At times, she remembered his casual suggestion that 'recruiting' their friends
would earn them credit, and speed up their release, but she doubted that it
would be enough to matter, and couldn't bring herself to helping the monster
who dangled her future over her head, do the same thing to other women, even
women she hated, as he'd suggested that they think about 'volunteering'. She'd
heard some of the others laughing about it, and felt sick at heart that he
could so totally dominate these women, that they'd even turn on their friends. 

Tom certainly wasn't picky about where he got his women, either. There were
nurses, teachers, even otherwise unemployed housewives, judging by the clothes
that she'd seen them wearing as they walked into the apartment, or the things
that they carried. Some of the others seemed quite willing to trap other
hapless woman into the life of sex for safety, though not for pay, she kept
telling herself. Tonight had been the first time that she'd been glad that she
had a 'pimp' to take care of problems, never considering that he was the
indirect cause of Kathy's situation to begin with. That mix of loyalties, like
the conflict between wanting to feel Tom inside of her and hating what he was
doing to her, kept her up more nights than not. She glanced up at the clock
over her monitor. It was 3:00 AM Friday morning. She wondered if the weekend
would be her own, or if he'd steal more time from her again. Resigned to the
fact that she'd probably be 'working' again, she paused in the kitchen,
quickly downing a glass of Merlot, then returned to her bed, hoping to get
some sleep.

The call came at lunch the next day, they always came at lunch. It was a
woman's voice, and for a moment, Melissa longed to be the one getting time off,
by sending other women out to appease strange cocks. The woman told her to
wait, and a moment later, Tom was on the line. Melissa felt a familiar
combination of attraction and loathing, for once, more the former, considering
she was sure that he'd help Kathy. Before she could speak, he broke the silence.

"You did well, last night."

"Did the... did Fred, " he'd warned them not to ever use the name 'John' or
the customers' real names, in the few situations where they even learned them,
when talking on the phone, "enjoy the movie?" There was a dry chuckle. 

"Oh, both he and his buddies most certainly did. But I'm talking about your
friend, and her... situation."

Melissa swallowed, nodding though he couldn't see her.

"I have a job for you both tomorrow morning. Should be finished by about lunch
time. And I'll get her the necessary equipment then."

She was sure he meant another morning after pill.

"What about..." she stopped short, not wanting to anger him.

"About what?" he waited.

"Shouldn't she be tested?"

"Oh, she will be. Has been, in fact, by now. Don't you worry about that. Just
be at the apartment together at 7:00 tomorrow morning."

The line went dead before she could protest that it was too early, though the
protest had already died unspoken, as well. Her hand was shaking, as she hung
up, and she ducked into her classroom, opening a drawer, and pulling out the
thermos that she'd begun carrying with her to school, sometime in the second
week of her being a prostitute. 

It had been the Friday after the first time he'd separated the two of them.
She'd left school early that first afternoon after she'd sat down at lunch to
calculate how far she'd gotten into 'paying her debt'. She stared in horror at
the number of men that she'd roughly figured she had sex with. Including the
Saturday, and sometimes even Sunday tricks that Tom had demanded, she'd slept
with approximately forty men in less than two months, including the men in
Las Vegas. She'd spent the afternoon wandering through her home, comfortably
numb on all of the rum she could find. And she'd regularly turned to alcohol
to relax in the subsequent days. 

At night, it was wine, enough that she was compliant and could tolerate Jeff
doing whatever he wanted, which to her relief seemed no different than they'd
done before she'd become a 'pro'. She tried to enjoy it, and hated herself for
imagining Tom at times when they made love, denying it as being anything but
guilt at the whore she'd become, and hating that she couldn't show her husband
things that he'd enjoy more, without risking his curiosity at how she'd learned
such facts and techniques. And as sick as she felt whenever she looked at it,
she'd kept track of her 'work record' at school. That way Jeff couldn't
possibly stumble upon it and ask questions. And in case a curious student or
fellow teacher saw her record, it was intentionally cryptic, 'plane 7',
'theater 7', 'movie 9'. No real decipherable information. The running total
was even a help at times, as she reasoned that she could be free of Tom in
only a year at the rate he was using her. 

At other times, she was sure that she'd already gone too far, and knew that
whatever Tom did, she'd never be the same woman again. No one, not Jeff, not
Tom, not the other teachers or her students, seemed to have noticed any change
in her though, and she chose to interpret that as her being in control, she
didn't have a problem, except for the obvious, she was now a whore. 

That thought of that term prompted another hit of the Crown/coffee mixture,
and then she put the thermos back into her desk, telling herself that the
arousal she was trying to ignore, was caused by the knowledge that Kathy would
be all right, and not that she would see Tom again soon. 

Obeying Tom's instructions, Kathy had taken an early lunch, driving straight
to the clinic that he had indicated. It wasn't advertised, except in small
block letters on the glass of the front door, but inside, the place smelled
like every hospital that she'd ever visited. She sat on the barely adequate
furniture, after ringing a buzzer, positioned on the desk, and tried not to
think about the additional two weeks that Tom had demanded for her letting a
'John' cum inside of her, not the accidental 'dose', as he termed it, but the
second and third times.

It embarrassed her that he knew so much, just as she'd been embarrassed when
she'd gone back to the apartment, looking for more sex with him two days after
they'd gotten back from Las Vegas. She'd known then that she needed more of
him, at whatever the cost. He'd laughed, asking where Melissa was. Kathy knew
her friend was as hooked on Tom's cock as she was, but the little blonde had
more to lose in her family, and so had been better at denying her needs. And
so she hadn't told Melissa of the visit.

She forced such thoughts aside, acutely aware of the predicament she faced
presently, possibly pregnant with a black man's baby. A few minutes passed,
and the window at the side of the room slid open, and a matronly woman asked
her name, clucking as she checked her schedule, why Kathy wasn't sure. The
woman told her it would be a minute, and then left Kathy sitting, wishing she'd
brought a book with her. 

She'd gotten home the night before to find Fred sleeping across the middle of
their bed, luckily a king size one. Like Melissa, she'd tossed throughout the
night, until the alarm was about to ring anyway. Trying to wake fully beneath
yet another pounding shower, and resisting the urge to drag the showerhead
down to again scour her betraying cunt, she'd tried to ignore what she'd felt
the night before, before the condom tore, telling herself to focus on what
such behavior could cost her.

Unlike Melissa, there weren't any kids to worry about, but she had no doubt
that she'd lose her job, her friends, and everything she that knew and was
comfortable with. She blinked, a sudden image of the 'outed' Kathy, turning
tricks on the street like a common whore danced behind her eyes. It would be
the only thing that she was good for. She wondered if Tom would have a use for
her, if and when Fred divorced her, and made no attempt to hide the truth from
herself, they'd already been perilously close to divorce.

She'd known that he was cheating for some time, but hadn't concerned herself
with his affair, so long as he let her do what she wanted, too. Increasingly,
that'd been going out with Melissa. She squirmed, feeling some impossible
guilt that she'd probably brought it on them, by somehow playing up to Tom
that night in the bar. The night neither could remember. She wished that she
couldn't remember the nights since, the time that she began spreading her legs,
and letting total strangers have her in whatever carnal way that they desired.

It sickened her that she enjoyed their touch more often than not, and that she
woke up wanting to feel Tom's touch again, especially the feel of his cock in
her cunt. She shifted in the poorly padded plastic chair, scandalized when her
thoughts wandered to a similar sensation, she'd been pushed back into the
plastic seat of an impressive basketball arena, her ankles draped over the arms
of the two chairs on the next row down, as an entire basketball team had taken
turns fucking her, Melissa and a redhead whose name she couldn't remember, or
had never known. Tom didn't like his girls 'fraternizing' with each other,
unless, like Melissa and her, they were brought in together.

The trio had endured that humiliation one Thursday, slightly more than a month
ago, just a few days after they'd met the redhead, and spent a morning simply
lying beside one another, as one man after another took his turn rutting into
one or the other of the trio. Tom had explained that they'd been visitors at
some business convention downtown. She tried to remember which had been better,
her taking eight impossibly big black men, a Hispanic fellow, and a single
white player, who all stood around watching one another go at it, while
laughing and joking, and comparing the women, as if they were inanimate
objects.

The businessmen had almost been embarrassed to see their fellow conventioneers
rutting away on the same bed, though none of them had decided to skip the
balling of one of Tom's whores. So the callous attitude of the players rankled
her more, but they'd been a better group of studs, she admitted to herself.
She remembered feeling jealous, when she heard one of them talking about how
good Melissa's cunt had felt, and how she'd began to hump at the fellow
fucking her just then, anxious to make an impression on a total stranger. Then
she shivered, remembering how close it'd been for her that night, she'd had
none of the handful of condoms she'd grabbed left at the end of the night, and
she'd returned to the grimy studio apartment, knowing not to take anything for
granted. She doubted that without Tom there, they would've stopped when she
ran out of rubbers. 

The review of her recent 'activities' moved forward to the next Saturday,
after Tom had separated her from Melissa. Kathy had found herself in the
company of a heavier, but more stacked brunette, and a black woman who thought
that she was God's gift to mankind, or at least to it's men. The foursome of
Asian businessmen that they serviced weren't hung like most of the men Kathy
had gotten used to taking between her legs, and they were more contemptuous
of the women that they were using, than Kathy had imagined possible.

They even used condoms at a prodigious rate. What with the frequent switching
from mouth to ass to cunt and back again. With each change involving her ass,
Kathy had demanded that they change their 'raincoat', which angered the men,
and seemed to fuel their abusive attitude. It was the least pleasing encounter
that she had endured to date, at the two hour mark, she wasn't even fully wet
yet, and was thankful for the lubricant that she'd applied liberally before
leaving the apartment.

In the midst of changing the sheath on an impatient, angry, older executive
who'd just viciously fucked her in the ass, and now wanted her cunt, she
realized that the black girl was getting much better treatment. Watching, she'd
quickly guessed the reason, the girl wasn't doing oral with a condom. Anal and
vaginal yes, but she'd suck them like a tigress, and in fact had the baggy
'female condom' between her legs, making it easy to switch between oral and
vaginal as well.

If there'd been any consolation, it was that the ebony goddess took more of
the men's loads than Kathy and the other brunette combined. She'd also endured
almost no ridicule, whereas by the night's end, Kathy had wondered if she'd
somehow been transformed into a hideous witch, by her weeks as a whore, as no
man had ever treated her so badly, and it'd been a struggle to hide her hurt
from Melissa. 

The thought of her friend eased the anxiety that Kathy had felt building. If
there was a single positive outcome from the mess, in which both women were
trapped, it was that their friendship, no, it was more than that, their
relationship had blossomed. She blushed at the warmth that the thought quickly
built between her thighs, but she didn't stop the memory, enjoying the mental
images of that first night. Even after the orgy on the flight back from Las
Vegas, she'd never felt so feminine, had never enjoyed such pleasure, as she'd
known from being with Melissa. She longed for more, and thought her friend
felt the same way, but the whole of their subsequent time 'together' had been
co-opted by Tom and his endless 'service' requests. 

A noise drew her from her reverie. She looked up to see a man in scrubs eyeing
her from the door between the sliding window and the empty desk. He looked
vaguely familiar. He had dark black skin, which wasn't a requirement, but
seemed the usual for the men she'd 'met' in the last three months. She wondered
briefly if she'd 'known' him, but knew that she'd never forget the men who'd
used her. It seemed a ridiculous consideration, until she remembered it was
the place that Tom had sent her, the guy knew her pimp at some level. She had
a queasy sensation she'd been with this guy before, but wasn't 100% sure. He
smiled neutrally at her, asking her to 'join him', and Kathy moved to obey, a
nervous flutter touching her stomach, as she wondered just what lay in store
for her.

"You look nervous." he said, and the voice was vaguely familiar, as well.

"I am. I assume you know why I'm here?" she asked.

He nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "It's just a couple of tests. They'll
be done in no time."

He helped her to sit in a padded exam chair, setting her arm on the fold down
armrest. He then gathered some equipment from the counter along the wall. He
deftly applied the tourniquet, snapping the vein that popped up on her arm,
and swabbing it with alcohol. He stabbed a small needle into the vein, released
the tourniquet, then taped the length of tubing to her arm, the little plastic
tabs at the needle's sides, holding the needle in place. He collected her
blood in a syringe, dividing it into three tubes, then set a plastic cap on
the line, leaving it taped in place.

"You'll also need to give me some urine." he said, handing her a cup and
pointing to an open bathroom stall, "Sorry about the door, but for work exams
we have to witness it, you understand."

She nodded absently, still trying to remember where she'd heard his voice
before. She was almost sure that he'd been between her legs some time in the
last three months, and the thought that she couldn't remember was both scary,
but exciting, too. 

Midway through her filling the cup, she remembered, the film they'd 'acted' in.
That's where she'd heard the voice, just before she'd felt him slip into her.
He'd been almost as big as Tom, and good enough that she'd gotten off twice
before he'd stopped, filling the condom that he was wearing. She wondered if
she should mention knowing him, a naughty voice somewhere in her head
suggesting that he could 'have' her fully', then give her the pill for which
she'd come to him for. She resisted giving into that impulse, aware that at
the least, it could lead to a punishment from Tom. 

She dropped her skirt into place, and carried the urine container out of the
open bathroom. The tall, well-muscled tech turned, expertly dipping a tiny
strip of paper into the cup, before taking it from her. He repeated the
process twice more, with different strips, then examined them.

Shaking his head slightly he said, "I'm sorry, but if you want to wait, I'll
check the blood value. We don't know if you need the pill yet."

Kathy nodded, her stomach knotted with anxiety.

"You still look nervous." the man said, sitting down beside her after he'd set
the vials of blood into a tiny window in the wall, closed the door, and
flipped a switch, "We'll have an answer for you in about eight minutes. Do you
want something to help you relax while we wait?"

Kathy bit her lip, wondering what the man meant. Then she remembered that he'd
left the IV in her arm, and guessed that he meant some Valium. She nodded her
head, and he smiled briefly, as he turned to a smaller cabinet, recessed under
the counter. He snapped the pale green top off of a small clear plastic bottle,
stabbing a fresh needle into the tiny vial, after swabbing the top with alcohol.
He inverted the bottle, the contents jetting into the syringe. He then swabbed
a second vial, with a bit of white powder inside. The liquid was squirted into
the second vial, he swirled the vial with a practiced flick of his wrist, and
after the powder dissolved into the fluid, he drew it back into the syringe. 

"Any allergies?" the man asked, and at Kathy's head shake, he swabbed the
stopper at the end of her IV, impaling the rubber surface with the needle, and
slowing depressed the syringe's plunger. When it was half in, he paused,
taking a moment to fill a second smaller syringe with a few cc's of a liquid
held in a green, capped bottle he'd had in his pocket. He returned, looking
down at Kathy, who was now barely conscious, as he added a portion of the
second syringe to the IV, flushing it with the rest of the first drug. 

"There, isn't that better?" he crooned, as he smiled.

Kathy nodded drunkenly, the tip of her tongue lolling at the side of her mouth.
Her eyes were half closed, her pupils constricted, her breathing shallow, and
a bit faster than it had been.

"Yeah baby, that'll take care of anything." Michael crooned, smiling to
himself.

The woman had to be a drug virgin to be hit that hard. He bet that she didn't
even drink enough to get seriously hammered. Of course, having learned how Tom
found his women, he understood that they'd be most responsive to the roofie
cocktail that he employed.

Michael had more experience with pharmaceuticals than his mentor though, as
well as a ready supply of drugs, as insulated from his true identity, as
whoever Tom really was protected himself. Pharmaceutical grade morphine was
worth more than it's weight in gold on the street, but it was too risky to
sell to strangers. Michael had puzzled about how to use his contacts for
profit, and then Tom had dropped the answer into his lap. Instead of using the
threat of humiliation and divorce to keep his girls happy, Michael had been
testing a variety of cocktails on his unsuspecting and inconsistent
girlfriends.

His thought was that a bit of drug dependence could keep the girls in line,
though that wasn't his primary motivation, the fear that Tom wielded so well
was too proven to radically alter that method of getting and keeping whores.
Instead, Michael had developed a cocktail he termed the 'induction drug'. He'd
explained it to Tom, claiming that it would assure him that his bitches
remained 'faithful'.

He eyed the striking brunette he'd just dosed. She'd been a great lay that day
that they'd made a 'White Housewife Whores' video. He closed the door to the
exam room where she lay, blissfully unaware of anything going on around her.
Padding into the reception area, he invited the secretary to take an early
lunch, adding that he'd stay and check on the patient, because she'd had 'a
Vaginal reaction'. The matronly woman nodded her thanks and left, in no small
part because Michael had delayed her getting her nicotine fix, a sure means of
keeping the woman from fussing about 'chaperones'.

After waving to her, he closed the door behind her. When she turned the corner
and didn't come back, he threw the deadbolt, locking the plate glass door. He
wondered how Tom had gotten by so well, without resorting to more definite
means of control. After all, what housewife could find a different supplier,
if she were hooked? And what husband would know the signs, and realize that
his wife was a junkie? Of course, getting them to kick, if you were shopping a
whore out, as he'd gathered Tom not infrequently did, could be a problem. But
this one, she was too old to figure that some high rolling sheik would want
her. The blonde she'd been with, though, she might have a real shot at becoming
a harem girl.

He decided then and there, that he'd reserve the drugs for the women who
wouldn't make it to the auction block, but would do well in the numerous
whorehouses dotting the country. Or even those outside of the borders. It was
a booming business, what with the Government shutting off the flow of Latin
American and Eastern European pussy. A little attention to detail, keeping her
dependent, without increasing the dose enough to risk her health, or a strain
on his supply, and 'his new girl', he already thought of them that way, would
do whatever he wanted.

He knew that Tom was opposed to using the drugs so casually, the man was sure
it would backfire on him, and get his carefully constructed prostitute/white
slavery ring torn down. But Mike had gotten a tacit 'OK' to show Tom how it
worked on one of the women, and when the opportunity presented itself, it'd
been too good to pass up. He wondered if Tom had guessed that the brunette
would be their guinea pig, but then decided it probably didn't matter. The man
liked pussy, that was true enough, but he didn't get attached. That was an
important lesson too, Michael told himself, as he finished closing the blinds
and returned to the second exam room.

The woman hadn't changed position. He took a moment, eyeing her, remembering
how she'd looked, spread eagled and stark naked on the rubber mats before. She
was prettier than he remembered, and he suddenly realized that she'd probably
be able to sell on Tom's 'auction block' as well. He was anxious for a moment,
then decided to delay the dependence test, to show how a little pharmacological
help could prevent trouble, or at the least stop those intent on causing
problems from persisting at it.

The dose that he'd given her wouldn't make her dependent on its own, but it
would be a perfect adjunct to the other little wonder that he wanted to show
Tom. He locked the door to the exam room, no sense being careless, and reached
beneath the brunette's skirt, calmly easing her lace panties off. He smiled as
the woman murmured with his touch, lifting her hips to aid his effort. He left
her heels on, untucking the blouse, and reaching beneath it to lift her bra
over her firm globes.

He eyed her nipples, already rising from the cool room air. He moved down and
spread her legs. After pausing to collect some sterile lubricant on his fingers,
he dipped two fingers between her pouting labia. They slipped inside of her
pussy effortlessly, and within four strokes, the woman was moaning softly, and
her body undulating, welcoming the intimate touching of her private place. He
waited in hopes that the narcotic would be wearing off, and her eyes flickered,
opening a bit, as if she was trying to decide what was real and what was a
dream.

He checked the clipboard that he'd grabbed at the front desk, which showed the
values from the automated lab's evaluation of her blood and urine. She'd
caught, so the pill would be necessary. He calmly dispensed one from a bottle
in the locked cabinet, holding it with his now wet fingers, wet from her
flowing juices. Bringing it to her lips, he told her to swallow it, then set
about building her up again, fingering her already open and wanting slit,
while pinching her pert nipples with his other hand. 

Kathy felt the need racing through her body, seemingly out of nowhere. She
vaguely remembered asking for the Valium, and watching him prepare it. Then it
was as if she had simply floated away. She looked about, almost giggling when
it seemed to her she was watching a big black man getting ready to have his
way with a white woman. Belatedly, she realized that she was looking at herself,
that was what she was feeling. The knowledge only made the sensation grow, the
building pleasure, and it's accompanying ache for release, were the only things
in her awareness.

There was no thought of her predicament, or Fred. Nothing but her approaching
orgasm, which seemed to buzz in her every cell. She wanted to beg him to fuck
her, and didn't even care about a condom. She didn't care if Tom would get mad
at her and make her trick forever. She had to have this man inside of her
right then.

Then he was pulling her to the edge of the exam chair, and turning her, as he
placed his thick, naked thighs between her's, his manhood jutting at her
crotch, heavy and potent. She whimpered as he slipped into her effortlessly,
wishing that she could make her legs move, wanting to lock him inside of her
thighs, inside of her body. He was her entire world at that very moment, and
as he thrust easily in and out of her, she came like never before, but without
making a sound. She barely moved, though her mind was screaming in delight, as
he fucked into her harder and faster, feeding her need, overcoming any
resistance that might have remained, as to her giving herself to him wholly. 

"Oh yeah, that's my whore. That's my little whore!" Michael chanted, as he
fucked in and out of the brunette's clenching pussy.

She'd managed a few moans and groans, and he could tell from the way that her
muscles were undulating, over her flat stomach, that she'd cum repeatedly.
He'd given her the rest of his special cocktail, as he began to fuck her,
wanting her to associate the high of the drug, with the touch of his cock deep
inside of her. He'd read enough about conditioning, to know that the lowered
inhibitions brought on by the morphine and the drug cocktail, as well as the
physical pleasure that he was providing her, would be linked together in her
memory forever. Tying the pleasure of having sex with him, to the effects of
the drugs, would bind her to him, however he chose to use her. Drug hits would
bind a woman to her pimp, or any other man that he chose to use in a similar
setting. Of course, he knew it sometimes took more than one session to get the
woman drooling like a Pavlovian dog in heat when they saw him, but it would
happen, and the way this one was reacting, he doubted that she'd need much in
the way of reinforcement.

He smiled, admitting that Tom could be right, if his little cocktail could
successfully turn the women into slaves for his cock, he could save the
morphine for the periodic cases that needed some 'extra incentive'. It'd
definitely be easier to have them hooked on the sex, rather than the drugs.

He smiled, as he worked his cock in and out of her, in long steady strokes.
She really was an amazing piece of ass, and he was glad that she'd come up
clean on the quick tests, so he could take her without any concern for his own
safety. He smiled, wondering how she'd feel when she came to, in a few minutes.
He needed to cum by then, but had managed to hold off through most of her high,
keeping his focus on keeping her cuming. Suppressing the urge to shout, he
tensed, letting his own climax fly, as he felt her tremors easing, and saw
more purposeful movement in her limbs.

He finished quickly, wiping his still drooling glans on her pubes, then
flipping her skirt down, lowering her bra over her still hard nipples, and
smoothing her blouse down, as if she'd loosened it to provide the urine sample.
Her panties however, stayed in his pocket. He wanted her to dwell on what she'd
done, what she'd felt, while she was at work that afternoon. 

He left, turning the lights out and busying himself with other less pressing
tests, that had been provided by a variety of businesses around the town. Like
Tom, his 'side business', operating as a front for one activity or another for
almost two years, had begun to turn a sizeable profit. The gig he'd agreed to
pursue for Tom, had been a test to look for another profitable venture that
Uncle Sam didn't need to know about. It'd proven lucrative in more ways than
money alone.

That thought reminded him of Marcie, the red head he'd been 'recruiting', along
with her friend, a mousy blonde named Karen. The first part had gone just as
Tom had predicted, and he'd already enjoyed a feverish evening with both women.
He'd had a pleasant surprise, when he found out that the blonde was a fireball,
once she got going, and he'd been amazed at the detached way that both women
had let a total stranger forever alter their bodies.

Though Tom had cautioned him to be careful, he'd shadowed both women, curious
as to how they'd react to the blank spot, and the all too obvious changes in
their lives. They'd been slow to begin to chase down the clues that Tom had
insisted that they leave. Tom wasn't wrong either, since it invariably meant
that women who wouldn't agonize too much over 'the big picture', as they worked
themselves deeper and deeper into the quagmire of sex for money. 

Tom had repeatedly explained how he found and 'trained' his women, and had
provided Mike his contacts, like the tattoo parlor, for Michael's first
'catch', pointing out the apparatus was already in place, so he might as well
learn to make it work for him, too. Michael was a little bummed, however, that
the jet was no longer available for reinforcing the women's situation, but that
was fine too, as he preferred to keep things completely local. He'd used fronts
to hire out a farmhouse, though he was only really interested in the barn. It
was miles from any other place nearby, and would be perfect to serve as his
women's training facility.

It'd already proven perfect twice, Tom had demonstrated his technique,
ensnaring a mother/daughter combination, who were bringing in loads of cash
for both men, and two sultry co-eds from a local junior college, who'd
reluctantly gone to work at a local strip club, not knowing that they'd soon
be tricking themselves out too.

Actually, Tom had only been a shadow for the second pair, providing quiet
advice, distracting the waitress who started to get suspicious, and serving as
one of the many cocks that Michael had 'introduced' the women to on their
second 'lost night'. His 'Mondays' and 'Wednesdays', as Tom called them,
referring to the night of the week that he'd continue to 'work' them, were
running almost as smoothly as Tom's last pair, which included the brunette that
he'd just thoroughly enjoyed. 

Tom had made it clear, that the women had to come away from their first
'introduction to prostitution', as he termed it, liking their pimp's equipment,
and what their pimp could do for them, as well as to them. That'd been no
problem for Michael, who'd found that he enjoyed using his staying power to
get his women off again and again. And whether they'd admit it to themselves
or not, Tom was right, the women wanted more. It was part of what kept them in
line, he was sure of that. 

That's what had started his quest to find a way to chemically reinforce that
bond. The question now was, how would she react when she came down from her
high.

It was almost 1:00 when Kathy staggered out into the waiting area, still
reeling visibly, her eyes wide from the recognition of what had happened to
her. She searched for the receptionist, obviously relieved to find her gone.
When her eyes found Michael, they wandered down to his crotch, without any
hesitation. He suppressed a smile, as she tried to compose herself and
approach him, without letting on what she must have guessed had happened.

"Hhhhow did it turn out?" she finally managed to say, blushing, as he
considered before answering.

"Your tests? I'm sorry to tell you, but you caught, you were pregnant. I
already gave you the pill to take care of that. Oh, you have no diseases." he
paused, before adding, "and I must say, that you're tight little cunt is even
more agreeable than it was the first time I had you."

Her blush deepened, but she managed a quiet, "Thanks." as she looked up at him,
as if afraid of his disapproval.

She licked her lips before she went on, "If you ever want to... uh, you know...
just call me." fumbling in her handbag for a card, but Michael held a hand out
to stop her. 

"It's OK. I already have your numbers. I'm going to be taking over for Tom."
he informed her.

She paused, as if unsure how to react to that, but a smile spread across her
face after a moment, and she relaxed, happily murmuring something to herself.
He kept his gaze right at the rising points of her nipples, as her body
responded to the knowledge he'd just given her, and his delight at her
physiological reaction battled with disappointment, as he quietly reminded her
that she should get back to work. 

Kathy nodded her head, her eyes dropping to the floor, as she hurried past him
and out to her car. She was still swaying, but the after effects of the drug
kept the bright sunlight from slowing her down. A moment later, she was gone,
and Michael was certain that his theory was right, he'd soon have a more
devoted willing stable, than Tom had ever imagined possible. He stepped back
to the desk, picking up the phone. He was willing to bet his partner would
soon be adding this trick to his repertoire. 

Safely in her car, Kathy tried to understand what had just happened. She'd
realized it wasn't a dream, as she came to in the heated exam room, and felt
the man's semen seeping from her naked cunt. Her panties were gone, and she'd
felt a lingering worry about possible pregnancy, until she'd gone out, and
that incredible man had told her that he'd already given her what she needed.
It had taken all her will power not to beg him to fuck her again then and
there.

She remembered the pleasure that he'd given her, a more thorough and complete
release than she'd ever thought possible, and she'd quickly admitted to herself
after she had first 'known' Tom, that he was so skilled with his enormous cock,
that she wanted more of him. This man though, it was something more powerful,
a physical need. She was still shuddering with lingering pleasure, she weaved
her way back to work, not caring that she was pantiless, and a stranger's
semen was crusting on her inner thighs. She wondered how she'd ever tell
Melissa all about this.

When she got back to work, the message light on her phone was blinking. She
listened, careful to use the handset, and not the speaker phone. As expected,
Tom provided her with the next day's 'work schedule'. She and Mel were to be
at the apartment no later than 7:00 AM. Deleting the message, she tried to
concentrate on her work, embarrassed every time she found her hand dropping
between her legs, as she sat at her desk, unconsciously frigging herself to
the invasive memories of the day's lunchtime activity.

She kept telling herself to stop, but found it nearly impossible to keep from
masturbating, even knowing that someone could walk in at any moment and catch
her at it. She wondered what exactly had happened at the clinic, but could
think of nothing out of the ordinary, and grudgingly considered whether her
new role as Tom's slut for sale, was turning her into a raving nymphomaniac,
or whether that even mattered to her any longer. 



                               Part 11



Kathy drove, since her older car was less likely to disappear when it was
parked all day downtown. Both husbands had seemed mollified by the women's
agreed upon excuse of visiting a museum showing. Both women had skipped out of
work early, to get to the museum the day before, collecting brochures and some
sketchy impressions of bad 'modern art', should Fred or Jeff ask any questions.
They left Melissa's driveway at 6:00 AM, stopping for coffee and danishes at a
nearby Panera. Melissa listened quietly to Kathy's description of her lab
'visit' the day before, and the news about a new 'pimp', as Melissa insisted
on referring to Tom. They tried to guess what could be so important, that they
were both needed so early in the morning, and agreed that it was at least good
that Tom seemed ready to let them quickly make up their 'debt'. 

But that led to a more grim discussion, as to whether he'd keep his word, or
string them along, but both women agreed that they had no choice any longer,
but to hope that he was a man of honor, if not a man of morals. Resigned to
another period of time on their backs, the women parked near the apartment,
anxious to be inside before 7:00, to avoid any more 'penalty time'. Kathy
couldn't bring herself to tell Melissa that she was already considering what
she'd want when they were free, a part of her was mourning the loss of so much
good sex. 

Inside the small apartment, they found five other girls already waiting, two
of them were unfamiliar to both Melissa and Kathy. All of them sported the
ubiquitous tattoos and piercings though, proof they were all part of the 
sisterhood of Tom's whores. The women eyed one another nervously, none of them
wanting to ask what everyone was wondering. Quite simply, each knew that
curiosity was trouble for Tom's 'pussy cats'. Unknown to everyone, Tom had his
eye on a video monitor, which cycled through the various tiny cameras installed
in the apartment. The women were unsettled, but he smiled, seeing no gossiping
or conjecture, even between those who knew each other outside of 'work', like
Melissa and Kathy, as they knew better than to push it.

He ran through the mental checklist, making sure everyone was present, before
he climbed the steps from the studio apartment below the women's, to the door
of his 'harem'. He held a series of straws, each with a name stenciled along
the hidden portion of the shaft. It left things seemingly random, but he
controlled who chose what straw like a good monte dealer or card shark.

As soon as he entered the room, the women familiar with the routine moved
forward to choose their 'meeting' for the day. Most of the women would simply
trick for him in a nearby hotel, where a convention was meeting. But for some,
he had special plans. While it wasn't his usual approach, Tom had developed a
sure enough routine for 'encouraging' women to sell themselves that he
entertained the occasional request to seduce a specific woman, rather than
taking his pick from those circulating in the bars, pubs, and dance clubs. It
meant more risk, but Tom was never careless, and the hunt alone was often
worth it, especially when he could not only turn a housewife into his whore,
but get paid for doing so by a 3rd party.

He'd been surprised the first few times he'd gotten such requests, the fellow
paying the bills so to speak, seldom wanted a piece of the action. He had
gradually understood that while some were simply voyeurs, most had an ulterior
motive, such as greed, lust, money, and jealousy, which led to a need to ruin
someone's marriage, to unbalance a boss or co-worker, or to strike out at a
competitor.

He found such arrangements almost invariably meant his new whore wound up out
on the street, but that seldom mattered, as they had no other place to go, and
free of the guilt that they felt from cheating, most of them had stayed on,
providing him with an endless supply of flesh to peddle.

He'd gotten such a request shortly before he'd begun to stalk the pair who
were his last personal conquests in Kansas City. It was the usual situation,
neither woman knew the interested party, a man simply wanted to get back at
his colleague, through the other guy's wife. As he always did, Tom explained
that 'seducing' the man's wife might be impossible, or at best, it would take
time. Which gave him enough time to be sure that he gave the victim the full
treatment, rather than a quickie 'ball and betray job', as he had occasionally
resorted to in the past, if the action that he'd been contracted to perform
was going to immediately ruin a marriage, there was no point in trying to make
her a 'housewife whore'.

The way the man had told it to him though, he simply wanted to know that the
other guy's wife was cheating on him. It didn't matter if the guy found out or
not. Tom was smart enough to bet the guy would, after a while, decide that his
knowing wasn't enough, he'd wind up tipping the guy off that his 'innocent'
wife wasn't what she seemed. He'd never seen a man go to such trouble, without
gloating about it afterwards. That meant that Tom could either get the women
in so deep, that they wouldn't have a choice, but to keep working for him, or
he could find the leverage to make sure that his one time employer wouldn't
mess things up for him. As usual, he chose to work both potential solutions,
and in this case, it hadn't taken much research. For a change the guy wanted
to bang the woman he'd had Tom turn into a whore.

Tom was confident he'd fully ensnared Melissa and Kathy, so he was ready to
let the guy who'd paid the bills, crawl onto the same hook with them. As part
of his routine, Tom had checked on the guy to find out the real story, no
point in getting involved in something that could come back and bite him in
the ass after all. This time it'd truly been no fault of the poor gal he'd
added to his stable.

The brunette's hubby had been sleeping with another man's wife, and Tom's
benefactor had caught them. The guy was a dean in the history department at
the city's largest Junior College, and he'd gotten back out of his own house
without being noticed, leaving him to simmer while he plotted his revenge. 

Tom had calmly suggested that the man simply turn his wife out and make her a
whore, since she was so obviously willing to cheat on him, but the man demurred,
as if it was only Kathy's husband who'd been responsible for his being
cuckolded. Tom had offered to diddle Kathy for free, after he'd done the
preliminary reconnaissance, the woman was attractive and fit, and he was
confident that he'd enjoy taking her. 

But the man wanted more, he wanted his rival's wife turned into a whore, taking
cock after cock without hesitation or pause, and he'd paid through the nose
for that result too. He put up the money for Tom's surveillance, his 'tools',
as well as the paying for the flight to and from Vegas, and the bills while
they were there. He'd even paid for the camera equipment that Tom had used in
the plane and the subsequent video shoot, not to mention the sizable 'retainer'
that Tom always charged for such activities. Tom was guessing that the guy
wasn't making his money teaching.

He'd already provided copies of the flight orgies and the 'White Housewife
Whore' film to the mark, but that had only made the guy more insistent. He
wanted to ball her, too. Tom was guessing that he wanted to know if his wife
was somehow enough better than Kathy, to warrant his colleague's seducing her,
though he'd be a fool to try to really make such a comparison, as his own plan
had assured that Kathy could out fuck his wife, without breaking a sweat. 

Tom had wisely refrained from pointing that out though. The guy wouldn't see
reality, and saying 'no' would only make him want it that much more. Of course,
the guy had also decided he wanted 'Kathy's friend' along. Nothing like
cuckolding a total stranger to get back at a cheating wife, Tom supposed. So
as the other girls selected sticks, sending them to one of three rooms, he'd
reserved in two adjacent hotels, he held aside the sticks meant for Kathy and
Melissa.

He noticed the female condom packet in the blonde's hand when she stepped up.
Hiding his smile at the sign that she was becoming more willing to do what he
needed of his whores. She'd soon be ready to solo. Having heard about Michael's
successful 'treatment' of Kathy the day before, he was sure that the brunette
was more than ready to trick without an escort. But for today, they'd be the
entertainment for Mr. Hiram Schultz, Kathy's husband's immediate superior. The
man had wanted to include his friend, a 'renowned scholar' he claimed, who was
visiting the next week, but Tom had been firm in refusing that, if Hiram
wanted to sample his colleague's wife for the money that he'd already spent,
it was his right, but he couldn't turn it into a party for his friends, and it
would happen when and where Tom said that it would. Which meant today.

After the man was through abusing the women, as Tom was sure that he would,
Kathy and Melissa would trick for him like any of the other girls, taking four
or six men on in the same room, one right after the other. They knew the
routine cold by then, and they'd shag like nymphos to get the men off as
quickly as possible, pausing only to get ready for the next set of customers.

It was still 'convention season', and Tom earned a spectacular income working
his girls in just the few hours each morning and evening on Friday, Saturday
and Sunday. All of that was over and above what the 'regulars' he provided for
during the week and weekends brought in.

Dealing with the ever present stream of men, eager for his brand of call girl,
his girls might take on two dozen cocks in a weekend, but such 'Home Stands',
as he termed them, didn't bother most of the girls. After all he made sure that
no 'John' had a real chance to get out of hand. A girl putting out at every
convention might even 'work off her debt' in less than half the time, or so he
pointed out to the girls who hesitated, when he called for on them for doing
convention tricks.

Melissa and Kathy smiled in delight, realizing that they'd be 'working'
together. Tom wondered if Kathy would recognize the man that she was about to
fuck, or whether she'd even realize what had just happened to her. He doubted
it, as his research showed no definite meeting between the two, even at the
'collegiate functions'. Not that it mattered, as he was more interested in
seeing how effective Mike's 'special cocktail' was, after the women had done
their turn pulling the convention train. He was going to use the same
camcorders that he had set up in the room, that they were destined for, to
also record Fred Dwyer's wife would lose it when her 'new black stud' appeared.

Melissa tried to hide her arousal at the knowledge that she was sitting beside
Tom on the drive to the hotel, but at the casual touch of his hand on her
thigh, high up, fingers curling possessively inside of her, like her husband's
once had, she felt an unmistakable throbbing need between her legs, echoed in
her suddenly rigid nipples. Biting her lip, she scolded herself for doing
exactly what she'd sworn that she wouldn't do, think of Jeff when she was
working, especially when the thoughts weren't charitable.

She tried to tell herself that the reaction was just her way of dealing with
the situation, but that excuse was sounding increasingly hollow. It scared her,
at just how excited she got wherever she was, just from the thought of feeling
Tom's cock inside of her again. It'd been like that since they'd returned from
Vegas, but she'd been unwilling to admit it to herself, much less Kathy, who
she felt was dealing with their situation so much better, or had been, until
the past week. 

She looked over at her friend, who seemed lost in thought. Melissa resolved to
do the same thing, glad that she'd allowed herself the glass of Crown before
dashing out to meet Kathy. The warm buzz was still there, and she let her
focus shift to that of numbness, sure that she'd be glad of that during
the coming day's 'work'. 

They pulled into the worker's parking lot of the high rise building, the
concrete walls abruptly shifting from a tangle of competing graffiti, to plain
slate gray, where the fifteen foot concertina topped fence prevented further
encroachment of the inner city 'art form'. The road sloped gently, as the
employee parking was underground, and a moment later, Tom's Caddy was parked
securely in a shadowed corner of the cramped space. The girls spilled out of
the car, queuing up, and obediently following him to the large freight
elevator.

It rose at a slightly greater than walking pace, ascending to the tenth floor
before Tom stopped it, handing a key to one of the veterans, and repeating the
room number. The woman, a slight Asian, nodded and left with three of the
others, trying not to look hurried. Mel felt for the women, as it was always
embarrassing sauntering through a hotel, decked out like the barely presentable
harlots that Tom's clothes left them looking like. It didn't matter to the
people in these hotels, who were used to prostitutes, and wouldn't know the
women from Eve, though none of them liked being reminded of exactly what they
were, even if it was only for a 'period' of time, and it wasn't by their own
choice.

The elevator stopped again on 14, the hotel lacked the 'unlucky' 13th floor,
and Tom released the second group of four, a blonde with a pinched expression
taking the key, and smacking her gum in response to Tom's recitation of the
room number. A moment later, the elevator shuddered to a stop again on the 17th
floor. Not high by modern standards, but Melissa had never stayed above the
4th floor of a hotel, and despite the purpose of this visit, she found herself
wondering about the view from the room's window. To her surprise, Tom sent five
girls to a room on the east side of the same floor, keeping Kathy and Melissa
with him. She looked at Kathy anxiously, mildly perturbed that her friend
seemed no more centered on the present, than she'd been in the car. 

She glanced at Tom, awaiting an explanation, hoping that she didn't look as
scared as she felt. She nervously felt for the female condom that she'd bought
at the drugstore the night before on her way home from work, she'd agonized
over its hiding place, choosing the canvas bag that she used to transport her
papers and notes and things, that none of her family ever looked into, and
wondered if Tom wanted them to himself, in which case she could save the 
expensive prophylactic for later. She grew flustered, acutely aware that she'd
just considered it a good thing to be having sex with the man who was forcing
her to be a whore. She glanced at Kathy, who seemed no more attached to
reality than she'd been in since she'd picked Melissa up. 

Any further thought was interrupted by Tom's abrupt nudge, forcing her into
the hall from where she'd been rooted to the floor of the elevator. 

"C'mon, girl," he chided, "You ain't workin' a thing off standing in the
doorway like that."

She walked in the direction that he'd pushed her, until his hand caught the
back of her bra strap through the thin material of her dress. The fabric
shifted, and she felt her nipples respond, wishing that she could understand
what was happening to her. Tom opened the door into a plain hotel room with
the usual pair of worn double beds. The dark patterned curtains were closed,
leaving the room almost black. Melissa stepped into the room with less caution
than she'd done the last time that she'd been on vacation with her family,
as hotels held no horror to her, and she was intent on enjoying the view. 

As she moved from the narrow hallway, where the door to the bathroom was
situated to her left, and into the main room, there was a movement in the
corner by the nearest bed. Melissa opened her mouth to shout, but a rough hand
closed around her head from behind. Tom cursed, as he physically carried her
the remainder of the way into the room, forcing her to sit on the far side of
the bed. She realized that he had also dragged Kathy in after them, letting
the door swing closed behind them. 

"I told you to stay downstairs and wait!" Tom said, his voice muffled strangely,
Melissa realizing that it was because he was mad. He was speaking through his
clenched teeth.

A plaintive, nasal voice answered, "People were looking at me. I didn't feel
safe."

Tom responded with a snort, but didn't argue. Melissa wondered about the
stranger, but knew better than to ask. At least she was hearing how Tom dealt
with the 'Johns'. That could prove useful.

"You got the money, man?"

"Yes, it's all here if you want to count it."

Another snort, and Melissa guessed that Tom hadn't done business with this man
before. "Is this... I mean can I?" 

"Hold your horses Casanova," Tom said, "I usually go through the ground rules
before you meet the ladies, but I guess seeing as how this is different, we'll
do it now. Have you ever done this sort of thing before?" 

"Never!" he sounded insulted, "You know why I'm doing this. I just..." 

"Save it for someone who cares!" Tom caught both women's outer shoulders and
sat them side by side, his attention never leaving the John. "You sit right
here." he warned them, then let go of them and moved back around between the
beds. "You sure it's safe to turn the light on."

"Yeah. I told you, no prior meeting. That was your first rule, but sometimes
people who don't know me don't understand how absolute my rules are. If you
lied to me, and this fucks my arrangement up, or if you do something today or
later down the line that fucks it up, anything at all, a word, or even a look,
I lose a lot more than you paid for this. And I'll take the difference out of
your hide. Are we clear?"

The man offered a tremulous nod.

"Good. Now the rest of the rules are simple. You want a naked dip in my girl,
that's fine, you deserve it, from what I hear. But don't be spreadin' it
around, you don't go around the world bare, you hear me man? And only in this
girl. The other is a bonus, a gift to you from me, but with a raincoat only.
And remember, all this is just for an hour and a half. Whatever you can do in
that time, you're free to do. After that, you pay like the rest of the boys,
I got to make a living here."

There was a pause, and Melissa wondered what he meant about paying, the man
had flashed a small case that had to hold several thousand dollars. 

"I don't know what you meant by 'around the world'." the man murmured.

Tom laughed, as he turned on the low wattage bulb between the beds. Melissa
resisted the temptation to turn toward the light. Tom stepped back, and she
expected him to answer. Instead, she heard him call her by name, telling her
to explain. She bit her lip, embarrassed, but unwilling to refuse and be
punished.

"It means... it's when you have oral and anal sex as well as... the other."

Tom laughed at that.

"Oh yeah, and the slut likes it, don't you bitch?"

Melissa bit her lip harder, nodding her head obediently, aware that Kathy had
nodded as well. It was the first time that she'd moved, since Tom had let go
of them.

"Amazing!" the man behind them breathed, making Melissa's skin prickle. There
was a slight accent to his speech, a lisp, or an almost feminine lilt. 

"Yeah, they're pretty fine," Tom agreed, "and they're all yours for the next,"
he checked his watch, "88 minutes." Standing, he padded towards the door, then
paused and turned around, "And you're right. I wouldn't hang around downstairs
when I'm done if I were you. You do sort of stick out around here." Only after
the door had closed, did Melissa chance a look around. 

The man sitting on the bed nearest to the wall by the bathroom hardly looked
like a man who'd pay for a hooker, though in the next moment, she admitted
that she could hardly guess which men would or wouldn't seek out a hooker for
their pleasure. One thing though really stuck out, he wasn't black or Hispanic.
He also didn't seem to exude the machismo that she had come to consider
automatic in the men who payed to use her for their pleasure. 

It was no wonder that he'd felt uncomfortable downstairs, she mused,
remembering the way that she felt the first few times that she'd been brought
through the lobby. He was short and more than slightly balding, the hair that
ringed his pale head was a greasy brown that looked as if he cut it himself.
He wore a tweed jacket, even in the relatively warm room, and green trousers
that reminded her of the Sans-a-belt slacks that her father had worn. 

He was older, by maybe twenty years, though it was hard too tell for certain.
He had a weak chin, besieged by a second flabby chin, that hid part of his
collar, and he had jowls that gave him a sad bull dog expression. He wore
impossibly thick glasses, which magnified his dark eyes strangely, even in the
dim light. Melissa felt her skin crawl at the thought that this man would soon
be between her legs, fucking her. 

His attention though, seemed to be strangely focused on Kathy exclusively. The
man licked his lips nervously, and set down the book that he'd been reading, a
thick hardcover, Melissa noted vaguely, and after another pause, nodded to
himself, as if he'd just made a decision.

He stood up, less bulky than some of the men that Melissa had 'entertained',
but somehow flabbier. He removed the jacket, setting it on the bed that he'd
just occupied, as he moved around to stand in the space between the beds,
opposite of where the women sat. Without taking his eyes off of Kathy, he
clumsily worked at the buttons of his shirt, followed by his trousers, which
were indeed Sans-a-belt slacks, until he stood there wearing only a pair of
pale blue boxers and black socks. He hesitated, as if uncertain what to do next,
then almost reluctantly pushed the boxers down.

His paunch hung low enough, that it was hard to see his equipment, and for an
awful moment, Melissa wondered if he even had a cock. He shifted and the head
peeked out, looking like a pink turtle, a very small pink turtle. Moving around
the bed, the man paused, seeming to teeter backwards, then abruptly began to
wank himself, as he loomed in front of Kathy. 

"You've been made a Jezebel." he murmured, "You're paying for his sins, but
it's necessary."

Melissa wondered how the man could claim their situation was punishment for
Tom, clearly he had no idea how Tom operated. But the ranting continued,
touching on original sin, the sin's of the husband and father, of purification
through sacrifice, and of 'an eye for an eye'. The man's cock had changed
little in that time, but he suddenly let go of it, and blinked, looking down
at Kathy, who seemed barely aware that he was even standing there in front of
her.

"My name is Schultz." he said, "I'm ready now. Suck it, harlot. Suck my cock!"
he grunted, thrusting his hips toward Kathy's face.

The brunette's mouth parted, accepting the tip of the man's cock. She bobbed
her head slightly, pressing her face into the man's paunch, hands rising to
clasp his flabby buttocks. Melissa was at once revolted and relieved that the
man seemed fixated on her friend, and not her. They hadn't dealt before with
such a strange John. He looked down, seemingly as detached as Kathy was at
what was happening, but only for a moment. Then his head dropped back, hands
rising to Kathy's head, as a groan escaped from his throat.

He gasped as Kathy went deeper, sucking at him hard, and Melissa knew that her
friend was sure that her 'John' was ready to cum. She wondered for a moment
why Kathy hadn't made the man don a condom, but then remembered the more
experienced girl's warning, Kathy's recent history, and Tom's enigmatic
comments before he'd left, and said nothing. The man seemed to stiffen, gut
and buttocks jiggling as he came a moment later. Kathy held herself against
his crotch, until he'd finished, then backed up, pausing with the tip of his
cock still between her lips as she swallowed the last of his load, and then
caught her breath. She dutifully cleaned the man's shaft off, bobbing her head
more quickly than before. She released him a moment later, lying back on the
bed, still clothed, but in the pose that Melissa recognized herself assuming
in the moments before she expected a man to violate her most intimate treasure.

The man stood there panting between Kathy's spread knees, his eyes on the
ceiling. A hand dipped between his legs, cradling and then wanking his spent
cock.

"That was... I don't understand." he said to himself, "She's so much better
than Julia."

Melissa abruptly realized that there was a ring on the man's left 4th finger,
meaning that he was married.

"How can that be?" The man was beside himself, and seemed to have forgotten
them again. He blinked and glanced down at Kathy, and then said, "That's what
you do for your husband?" 

Melissa heard her own gasp of surprise, while Tom 'advertised' that they were
married, none of her 'Johns' had ever asked her about it like that. Instead,
most of them were interested in her comparing white to black cocks. Kathy
nodded silently.

"I don't understand?" the man almost wailed. He stepped back, shaking his head,
then glared at Kathy and said, "Strip. I want to see you naked."

He stood before them, impatiently tapping a foot, as Kathy stood and quickly
slipped out of the revealing dress that Tom had selected for her to wear for
the day. The lace bra and panties followed, leaving only her heels, before she
returned to the reclining position that she'd assumed. The man stepped to one
side, away from Melissa, and then back to the same spot again. His eyes
roaming all over the brunette's naked skin. Grumbling, he stepped back and
opened the curtains, letting the sunlight bathe both of the women, though his
gaze remained fixed on Kathy. He stepped close, bending over the brunette,
reaching down to touch the tattoo beside her pubes. 

"What's this?" he asked.

"A gift from my master." Kathy's voice was quiet.

"Your master?" the man paused, then nodded his understanding, "From Tom?"

Kathy nodded.

"What did your husband say about it?" he leaned back, his arms folded across
his chest, as if he was a teacher awaiting the answer to a test question.

"He... he was surprised." Kathy answered, blinking quickly as she spoke, almost
as if she'd just awakened.

The man considered what she'd said.  "He wasn't suspicious?" the man seemed
disappointed. "and these?" he reached up to flick at the ring piercing Kathy's
nipple, then down to the matching ring glittering between her inner labia. 

"More... gifts." Kathy managed to choke out, blinking to keep from crying.

"And he doesn't suspect that you're..."

Kathy shook her head, the man mirroring her motions.

"The nights that you're out late? The weekends that you're out all day? The
little sexual tricks that you've 'learned' that slip into your love making at
home?"

Kathy shook her head again, reaching up to wipe at a tear.

"Of course, you can't tell him what you're learning, can you? I'll bet it's
hard on you, knowing things that you didn't know before, places you want him
to touch you, ways that you want him to fuck you, but you can't tell him. Can
you even get off with him, anymore?" he went on.

Kathy's jaw tightened, as she nodded mutely, her tears now streaming freely
down her face.

"You can't tell him that you enjoy being a whore, can you?"

Kathy looked down, her shoulders heaving slightly in a silent sob.

"What's his name?" the man smiled broadly, "Tell me your husband's name."

"Stop it!" Melissa interrupted, "She doesn't have to tell you that. You want
me to call Tom?"

The man looked at Melissa for the first time, the same smile on his face that
he'd directed at her friend a moment before, a smile that was anything but
pleasant.

"Would you like to do that?" he tilted his head, "Let's see... You might find
you had to work more if you did that. Shall we see?"

Mel bit her lip, swallowing a retort that she was sure would get them in
trouble.

The man's smile broadened, "You're the real victim here though, aren't you?
Doomed friends." he said, as he shook his head, "It's a shame really. But it
had to happen. Someday maybe you'll understand."

He then looked back to Kathy and said, "But the rule is, 'No last names, no
phone numbers, and certainly no addresses'. There's nothing that says I can't
know your husband's name. Now, what is his name."

"Fred." Kathy's voice trembling, as she whispered it. 

"Fred." the man repeated smugly, "Is he as endowed as I am?"

Kathy bit her lip but shook her head, Melissa guessed that was a lie, given
what she knew about Kathy and Fred, though all things considered, anything was
possible.

"Ah, then you're sure to enjoy this." he said, as his smile became a leer, as
he stepped forward, leaning over Kathy's vulnerable body.

His glans brushed through the tightly trimmed thatch of pubic hair, bumping
upward toward her navel, and grunting with effort, the man supported his weight
on one hand, while using the other to push the head of his renewed cock down
into Kathy's pussy. Her eyes flickered closed, as the man thrust slightly
getting his erection seated in her cunt. He settled again onto both hands, his
fat belly falling to the mattress on either side of Kathy's trim waist. 

He struggled to hold himself up enough to bend his head, and nip at her pierced
nipple, making her gasp. The sound seemed to be all that he needed, grunting,
the man threw himself forward over Kathy's supine form and began fucking into
her as fast as he could. Her hand scrabbled over the sheets, and on impulse,
Melissa took it, squeezing it to offer a reassurance neither expected to last.
She fervently hoped that he'd be a quick cumer on his second bout, expecting
that he would choose to sample 'around the world', and so as to not abuse her
with his fat body, and small cock. Then again, if he did want to use her too,
it would give Kathy time to recover. Instead, the man slowed after a feverish
minute, propping himself up on shaking arms, to gaze down at Kathy's face. 

"Tell me that you want it, slut!" he hissed, "Beg for my cock. Tell me how good
it feels."

He twisted his body as he spoke, obviously trying to tease her with his cock
in her lubricant filled pussy. Her legs remained draped over the bed, but she
licked her lips obediently, and gave voice to his demand. 

"Oh don't tease me baby." she began, "I want more of your big cock. Give it to
me, please! Fuck me! I want to feel you fucking me. It feels so fucking good
that I don't ever want you to stop."

Chuckling, the man began to thrust into her again, but more slowly, keeping
himself off of her chest with his arms planted on either side of her shoulders.
After a moment, he rolled slightly to his left side, and reached up with his
right hand to frig her clit, and pull at the labial piercing. Kathy's head
tilted back, and Melissa guessed that the man's touch was at least building
her friend towards an orgasm.

The man was obviously a clumsy oaf, but the piercing had increased their
sensitivity, and made it easier for even a bumbling fool to get them off.
Within thirty seconds of changing his approach, Kathy was moving beneath him,
expressing her building need. He paused a moment later though, returning his
hand to the mattress at her side, and resuming the monotonous fucking motion.
Kathy's legs rose, her heels digging into his meaty ass, trying to spur him on,
but he ignored her, pumping slowly and easily in and out of her cunt.

As Melissa heard her friend's breathing change, she realized that the man's
had too. He stopped, pulling almost entirely out of her, and teasing his
swollen cock head against her cunt and clit. Melissa knew what he was doing,
though his flab hid it from view. Kathy whined, trying to hump up in order to
take him back into her, he'd gone just long enough, that her need had become
uncomfortable. Glancing down at her lust hazed eyes, the man leaned back still
farther. 

"It looks like you're enjoying yourself." he teased.

She nodded, still trying to hump back against him.

"Do you want to cum?" he taunted, earning another nod.

He tilted his hips and managed to somehow feed his cock into her wanting seam
once more. He dipped into her fully, and then backed out, smiling more broadly
at her increased efforts to hold him inside of her. 

"Please!" she gasped, her hands closing over his ass, trying to pull him into
her, "Please fuck me."

"Is it better than at home?" he teased, and Kathy's back arched slightly.

She was too close to be offended. She was near an orgasm and wanted to cum.
But she didn't need to cum, at least not yet. She shook her head, denying it,
and he pulled back still more, letting the cold air slip between their bodies.
Kathy whimpered her plea for him to stop teasing her and take her. He ignored
her.

"You have to tell me that 'it's better than at home.'" he explained, shifting,
letting his glans move over her clit again. 

"Yesss!" she hissed, "Please fuck me. It's better than I get at home. Please
let me cum. Fuck me."

The man smiled but shook his head.  "Not quite yet. I want to hear you say it
again. Tell me I'm better than your husband. And use his name. Tell me and
you can get off. I'll fuck you until we cum. You want that, don't you?"

Kathy grimaced but nodded. "I want it. Please fuck me, Schultz, you fuck
better than Fred. Take me, please."

"You'll think of me the next time that you're fucking him?" the man asked, and
Kathy nodded. "I like that, that's an interesting image."

He began to fuck into Kathy's pussy once again, "You'll have to be careful
not to call out my name." he huffed, "I'll bet that your ol' hubby would freak
out if he knew that I get you off better than he can."

Melissa wasn't sure that Kathy was hearing anything that the pig was saying.
Her mouth was open, her head thrown back, as she came on the man's pumping
cock. To her shame, she found herself envying her friend's pleasure, despite
the way it had been realized. She glanced down, ashamed to find that she'd
begun to finger herself.

"That's it, bitch." the man panted every few seconds, "Take my cock. Feel
Schultz pumping into you. God that's nice, bitch. Your cunnie's just begging
for my sperm. I feel it milking me... Milking me... Ahh!" he stopped, holding
himself inside of her.

Melissa wondered how long the morning after pill worked, or if her friend
would again have to visit the clinic. He pulled out almost before he'd stopped
cuming, and rolled to lay beside Kathy, forcing Melissa out of the way. They
remained like that for several minutes, the man seeming apologetic once again
at the way he'd treated Kathy. Melissa hovered nearby, afraid of the man's
strange mood swings, and the things he seemed to know about them, but too
uncertain to call Tom. As she was considering a trip to the bathroom, the man
looked over at her.

"Do you like doing this?" he asked.

Horrified, Melissa opened her mouth, but paused, not sure what was safe to
answer.

"Seriously, is it so bad?" the man asked.

She shrugged.

"Then he treats you all right? No drugs or abuse or anything."

Suddenly afraid of a trap, Melissa shook her head vigorously. "Good. That's
not what I wanted." the man trailed off, leaving Melissa more puzzled than
before. As if he was concerned about what she was thinking, he glanced back at
her, and his entire attitude changing yet again. 

"Get your lazy ass over here." he demanded, "I want your lips on my cock and
your fingers buried in her cunt."

Melissa hurried to obey, the man was wimpy enough when he was being nice, but
had a tendency to get angry and mean without any reason that she could identify.
Then there wasn't time to think. She was too busy trying to keep the repulsive
roll of fat off of her head, as she sought out his cock, and began to suck on
it. She resisted the urge to look at the alarm clock between the beds, instead
concentrating on her fingers, as she tried in earnest to get Kathy off. She
wished that he'd wanted her hand on his cock, and her mouth between Kathy's
legs instead, it'd been too long since they'd had any time to themselves,
considering what they'd learned about themselves and each other. She shivered
at that consideration, and redoubled her efforts, oral and digital.

Her work was rewarded after a few minutes by a stirring in Mr. Schultz's groin.
His cock rose slowly but noticeably, until it was butting against her soft
palate on each down stroke, nowhere near the biggest cock that she'd ever
taken, but enough to get any woman off if used appropriately. Melissa also had
Kathy gasping and panting, her body jittering through a string of orgasms that
Melissa's deft fingers had triggered. When he pushed her away, Melissa leaned
back, wondering what the man would want of her next, but he again had eyes
only for her friend.

He leered at Kathy, who was barely aware of anything, but the pleasure that
Melissa's fingers had caused. Wanking his nearly hard cock, he moved off of
the bed, circling around to Kathy's feet. His gaze never wavered, a fat tongue
flicking out at his lips nervously. Melissa pulled back, partly in fear at the
man's intensity, partly to give her friend time to prepare herself for whatever
the perv had in mind. The man was clearly disturbed, and she wondered again
why Tom had agreed to his paying for them. She glanced at the clock, nearly
twenty minutes before Tom had told the guy to be done. Climbing onto the bed,
the man touched Kathy's hip, he wanted her on her hands and knees. He grunted
something about 'around the world', then paused, laughing to himself, as he
tried to use his right hand to hurry Kathy into the position he wanted. 

"Does he take you this way?" the man asked, almost panting already, "Do you
give your husband your ass?"

Kathy shook her head, her eyes closed, wanting the man to stop making her
think about Fred. The guy seemed to get off on her comparing him favorably to
her husband, but for all of his many faults, Fred had never been abusive, had
never forced himself on her like this leech was. She wondered what a woman had
done to him to make him so angry, and like Melissa, eyed the clock, wishing
the minutes would pass more quickly. It would be better to put out for every
man within four blocks of here, than to endure more of this man's spite. She
felt his cock touch her, not between her labia, but against her arse. He held
himself there with some difficulty, he still wasn't fully hard, she guessed.
His breathing was labored, as if he'd been running, but he kept talking.

"Oh, he hasn't had your ass?" he sounded delighted, and Kathy felt his cock
head swell against her pucker. "Then I'll be the first of sorts, won't I?"

Anxious to have it over and done with, Kathy nodded briefly. Still chuckling
happily to himself, about 'being first', the man pushed blindly into her ass
hole. Before he could become frustrated, she reached back, guiding the tip
into her back door, wincing at the momentary discomfort, in spite of the lube
that she'd applied in the apartment. He grunted, pushing at her with all his
might, and she felt him slip into her as far as he could. Almost as far as
Fred would, if he'd ever wanted her ass. She tossed her head, angry at herself
for falling prey to the 'John's' mind games. She arched her back, making the
noises that she expected that he'd want, as he humped at her ass mindlessly,
with no finesse at all.

She wondered how she had managed to enjoy his fucking her cunt before, but
didn't focus on it, dropping instead into a groveling position, and murmuring
mindless encouragement, that she hoped would help to get him off. Schultz
didn't seem to notice. Or he did, but having cum twice, it didn't push him the
last little bit necessary to cum. He seemed to pump into her harder and faster,
frustrated at his inability to get off, and desperate to violate her fully.

Kathy clenched her teeth, trying to hold out, wondering how long he'd go at it,
surely Tom would return soon. though she couldn't see the clock from her
position. She felt the bed shift, and just as she thought she'd have to beg
him to stop, she heard Melissa's voice, dripping with the false sexual hunger
that John's seemed unable to recognize for what it really was. 

"Maybe you need another honeypot, sugar."

The man stopped short, leaning heavily over Kathy's back. He was panting so
hard that Kathy wondered if he might keel over dead. She could feel his sweat
dripping onto her naked back, as she gleefully imagined that happening. He
seemed frozen at the suggestion.

"No. I want... I have to..." 

"C'mon," Melissa coaxed sexily, "I need it bad, baby. Let me see how good
Schultzie can fuck."

Torn between wanting to thank her friend, and hoping to protect the younger
woman, Kathy glanced back to the side, as the man still thrusting into her ass
hesitated. She couldn't see the man's expression, but he was undoubtedly
ogling her friend, who was now laying on her back, her knees spread wide apart,
with the fingers of one hand busily frigging her glistening slit, while the
other tugged at her pert, deeply tanned nipples.

Melissa's mouth was open, her tongue flickering over her red painted lips, her
eyes were half closed, as if she was already near an orgasm. Kathy's heart
went out to her friend, who not so long ago, just batting her eyes at a
stranger would've been too embarrassing. She knew that Mel wasn't even aroused,
much less so desperate for sex, at least, not with this pig. 

"Hmmm," the man grumbled, "I guess it's to be expected. Make a whore out of
any woman, and she learns to like it. I thought that I'd spare you what I can,
you're not to blame... but if it's what you want, you should be pleasured."

The man was talking in disjointed riddles, but he sounded educated, like a
teacher. The thought made her cringe, but she couldn't decide why, could only
suppress her sigh of relief, as the man pulled out of her ass and clumsily
moved between her friend's splayed thighs, muttering as if he was their pimp.

As she watched, he lowered his corpulent mass over her petite friend. Melissa
gave a Hollywood moan, as the man thrust into her pussy and began to rut over
her and into her. He was grunting and gasping, the arm supporting his torso
over Melissa's bucking body was shaking from the effort. Still he managed to
talk, his voice a harsh rasp between panting breaths.

"This what you wanted, slut? This is what you needed now? You like it? Is it
better than your husband gives you? Have you had her husband, you cunt? Do you
swap men?"

Each sentence seemed to foster a nastier, and meaner comment, as he was
thrusting at Melissa brutally, no thought to offering any sexual pleasure for
her or himself. As Kathy tried to imagine what she could do to defuse the
situation, her friend stiffened visibly beneath the man, screaming out, "Yes!
Oh yes, Mr. Schultz. Fuck me! Make me cum. Show me what a slut I am. Show me
you're a better man than my husband, baby. Fuck me harder. I like it... I love
it!"

The man stopped abruptly, blinking as if he'd just awakened.

"That's not... This isn't." his head swivelled, looking down to where his body
joined Melissa's, then over at Kathy, "I wasn't going to... This is just." His
lips set in a grim line, and he pushed himself away from Melissa, turning
again towards Kathy.

"Your ass! I have to fill your ass, to make you mine."

Kathy felt her head shaking, and without thinking about what it would mean if
Tom heard her, she answered. "I'm not yours. I'll never be yours!"

"Ha! But after I've had your ass, you won't be His anymore, either!"

Kathy wanted to scream, but managed to remain still, as the crazed John
swarmed onto her, blindly thrusting his cock between her legs. She felt it
pressing against her ass and clamped her muscles to fight him. Then relaxed,
letting the tip in before she clenched again, hoping to hurt him, and still
wanting only for him to cum and be done, sure he was close after the way he'd
abused Melissa.

She nearly laughed in joy, as she felt him stiffen, and felt the heated plume
of his cum spraying barely into her arse. Instead, she tensed her body,
groaning and shaking, as if she were overcome by the sensation. He seemed to
calm down, as his climax subsided, climbing back off of the bed completely,
barely looking at them. He nodded once to himself, and then stepped hesitantly
towards Melissa but then stopped, shaking his head, and Kathy thought,
muttering, 'My fault... I should've known', as he grabbed his clothes and
nearly ran into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Rolling onto her side, Kathy drew her knees up, and sat there shaking violently
for a long moment, wondering what the past ninety minutes had been all about.
It didn't make any sense to her, but she knew that there was an answer. She
guessed that it was important, but still couldn't even guess at the question
it would solve.

The bed shifted, and she heard the room's servi-bar open. She sat up to see
Melissa drinking a hand-sized bottle of Jack Daniels, as if it was Kool-Aid.
Her friend trembled, as she emptied the tiny bottle, but didn't pause before
cracking a Southern Comfort open, draining it with equal ease.

"Are you OK?" Kathy asked quietly.

Melissa nodded convulsively. "Yeah." she gave her friend a crooked smile, "I
am now. I thought he'd never finish. Are you OK?"

Kathy nodded, watching as her friend grimaced and dipped two long painted
nails between her lubed folds, extracting a floppy latex tube. "Guess this is
wasted," she lamented, dropping it into the tiny wastebasket by the bar,
before rummaging for another drink.

"Watch it there, Tiger," Kathy warned, "You'll be too drunk to do the bump and
grind that the ol' John needs to feel like a man."

Melissa shook her head. "No, I need it to be able to do the bump and grind
without scratching their eyes out."

Hearing that, Kathy hurried to her friend, pulling the blonde close and rocking
gently, as the smaller woman's body was wracked by quiet sobs. For a long
moment, they clung like that, each finding solace and something more in the
intimate embrace. There was the desire for more, but each knew that there was
no time, especially with a crazed John a few feet away.

They moved apart when the lock on the bathroom door clicked. The rumpled,
ill-at-ease little man stepped out. He glanced at them, as if he'd never seen
them before, and gave a strange shrug, that might have been an apology, or a
question, and after hesitating a moment, he pulled out two crisp 'C' notes
from his wallet.

"I... I'm sorry if I was... If I hurt you or scared you. When I did this, I
didn't consider... I didn't think how it would affect... I'm sorry. It's my
fault, not yours. I want you to have this." he said, waving the money faintly,
"Don't tell Tom. He won't know about it, it's for you." and he set the bills
on the unrumpled bedspread nearest the bathroom, then turned and fled the room.

The women eyed the money.                              

"What do you think?" Melissa whispered, eyes on the door expecting Tom to
saunter in at any moment.

"I... I don't know," Kathy answered, "Do we tell him or not?"

"If we don't and he knows, we'll do more of this."

"Yeah. And it's not enough money to risk that, is it."

"Not nearly enough." Kathy nodded, and the women carefully picked up the 'tip'
and set it aside. They shared the tiny lavatory, cleaning up and reapplying
the lubricant that would make the next hours tolerable, rather than torture.
By the time that Tom knocked and entered the room, Melissa had emptied two
additional bottles from the bar, hiding the scent behind an impossibly strong
mint gum, that came in a tin like Altoids. Tom eyed the women and smiled,
stroking his cock suggestively.

"You ladies must've done him right. He didn't even stop to say thanks or to
sign the room over to me." He eyed the ladies, "You need a little attention
now, or are you ready to work?"

Melissa fought back the momentary desire to ask for a go on his cock, but
Instead, she held up the bills that Schultz had left her.

"Your John thought he'd pay us on the side," she explained, handing it to Tom,
"Said we shouldn't mention it, that he wouldn't."

Tom pursed his lips, collecting Kathy's bill as well. He eyed them, shaking
his head before he answered.

"You girls did right again. These are yours, I'll just hold them until you're
done today. And you can have the afternoon shift off, as a reward."

He eyed them and said, "I'll deal with that small dicked loser later. Someday
I'll explain what this was all about. Hell, you'll probably know before that.
But you did fine. Now I need you to turn a few tricks in here, and then you
can have some room service and head home early." he then rose and added, "Tell
you what. You pull this train without my getting any complaints, and I'll take
you to lunch myself. We'll go to a little place that I know around here."

The women nodded meekly. There was no choice really, and each settled back
where they'd been sitting on separate beds.

"No," Tom shook his head, "lie down side by side. I think the boys'll like the
idea of doing you like that better. Figure it'll be like a race for some of
them, so you'll get done quicker." He chuckled, then turned to the door,
raising a Motorola walkie talkie borrowed from the house security to his mouth,
"Marco, stop the little guy who's trying to slip out..."

He listened to the earpiece for a moment, "Yeah, that's the one... Nope, he
sure don't belong. And send the first pair into our 4th suite." 



                               Part 12



Melissa and Kathy barely had time to get settled on the bed before the door
opened, without so much as a knock, and two large strangers filled the hallway.
They grinned appreciatively at the scantily clad women, murmuring to one
another, and reaching some agreement, they moved into the room. 

"Tom said that we're first." the older man leered, his face pocked with acne
scars. "Guess we'll get you broken in right."

He selected Kathy, who nodded, flashing him a come hither smile, and
consciously licking her lips.

The man's smile broadened, "Damn! He said you were bored with your men and
wanted some real cock. I thought he was talking shit."

"Yeah. We got to call ol' Tom more often, if he's gettin' girls like this."

The second man was already fondling Melissa, who was pressing her chest up
against the man's groping hands. Both women knew that taking too long would
get them in trouble, Tom had been careful to explain the difference between
entertaining, which they did on most nights, and fucking, which they were
expected to do for the next couple of hours. The men had paid to cum, not to
party, and as soon as the women got them off, they were to clean up and leave.
New meat would be at the door in under ten minutes. 

If the line of waiting Johns backed up, the women would be held responsible.
The first time they'd done a Saturday stint of 'pulling a train', as Tom
referred to it, Kathy had thought she'd be sick every time a man moved between
her legs, or thrust his cock into her mouth, but she'd gotten through it. As
she got cleaned up afterwards, Melissa had asked the more experienced girl,
who'd been working the couch of all places, while they had been using the 
beds, how she could enjoy being used as a cum repository. The girl had laughed.

"Honey, if you don't make them think that you like it, it can take a man all
day to get off. But if you make him think that he's driving you wild, he'll
cream before he's all the way inside of you."

So she tried it the next time, and while it still wasn't all that enjoyable
for her, it made things go much faster. Late in the third session, she'd
actually climaxed, while she was begging a stranger to 'fuck her harder', and
while she had been embarrassed and humiliated, just thinking about it later,
like she had been in the first few sessions, whenever she came while she was
'working', it had made things much easier to deal with. So she stopped feeling
ashamed, when the random thought occurred, as her hands rose to tear at the
man's trousers, as if she couldn't get into them fast enough, or when she
actually climaxed while faking a cum with a John. Melissa had leaned back,
opting to play coy for her first John.

"Do you want me baby?" she cooed, letting an index finger trace over her
abdomen to her crotch. The man's answer was his thick tongue licking his meaty
lips, before he began to work at the belt of his jeans. The men knew the
routine too. Taking too long would mean paying Tom more, since they'd only
paid for a twenty minute fuck.

When one of them complained to Tom, as he ponied up a wad of $20's, to cover
his bill, that twenty minutes was barely enough time to get hard, the pimp
would laugh and assure them that they wouldn't have a problem getting it up or
getting off in that amount of time.

The men didn't waste any time with foreplay either, as the only pleasure that
they were worried about was their own. The man ready to mount Melissa's petite
frame didn't even bother removing his boots, leaving his jeans up around the
tops of his boots, and leaning forward, between her wide spread thighs, to set
his cock head into her slit. It met her hand however, and in the next moment,
she rolled a day-glo yellow condom down his shaft as he thrust into her. He
considered complaining about it, but he knew the rules, and was amazed that
the woman had done it so quick and so skillfully. It was like a sexual sleight
of hand, even as she pulled him into her cunt.

A moment later he was grunting and pumping against the white slut's spread
thighs, spurred on by the groans and squeaks she was giving, each time he
plunged into her. For a moment, he didn't think that she could possibly be the
'white housewife' that Tom had claimed her to be, but a glance at her hand
showed a wedding ring on the fourth finger of her left hand, and he doubted
that the rock was a cubic zirconium.

He looked up to see his buddy thrusting madly into the brunette, whose legs
were cinched tightly around his hips, letting her pump her pelvis up to meet
each of his strokes. He felt the blonde pumping up to meet his own driving
cock, and heard her quiet exclamations urging him on. Then the small form
beneath him went stiff. Sure enough, she was cuming, he thought to himself,
proud to be able to get a pro off so quickly. He groaned a moment later,
letting go as he pushed himself fully into the trembling woman for a final
time. He didn't dare look at the others anymore, no use letting on that he'd
cum before his buddy. The woman beneath him shifted though, and he pulled out
reluctantly, to find that the other pair was done as well.

He didn't stop to think about the fact that the woman who'd been a raving
nymphomaniac just moments before, was calmly wiping her inner thighs with a
hotel washcloth, or that she had deftly stripped the cum filled condom off of
his cock, cleaning his shaft with the same wet towel in a single stroke. His
friend had been similarly dealt with, and in less than ten minutes after they'd
entered the room, they were sheepishly buttoning and zipping up their pants.

Both agreed without comment to take the stairs, at least part of the way down,
to make it look like they'd lasted longer with Tom's white housewife whores.
They didn't know that Kathy was already ringing the prearranged number, to let
Tom know that they were done with the first pair. The men were turning past
the door to the hall two floors below, before either managed a coherent thought.

"Damn, was she fine."

"Oh yeah. We should've paid for more time, and taken them again."

"Yeah. Swapped." The men stopped at a landing, glancing at each other, as they
reviewed Tom's rules, nothing would've precluded their doing just that.

"Shit!" they both sighed at the same time. Then left the stairwell to take the
elevator. 

Melissa and Kathy were already cleaned up, and were ready for their next
'guests'. Kathy eyed her friend, who was taking the opportunity to reapply
some lube.

"Need some help with that?" she asked with a smile.

Melissa looked up and giggled. "Imagine what they'd think walking in on that."

The women eyed one another for a moment more, before Kathy leaned down,
collecting the tube from her friend and lover's hand. She applied the water
soluble lubricant to her friend's pussy with casual ease, teasing just enough
so that Melissa groaned, her hips shifting slightly toward her friend's
exploring fingers.

"Stop it, or I'll decide to see if it helps us get through this faster." 

"Now who's trying to get us in trouble?" the blonde retorted, and nodding,
Kathy stopped. She'd barely had time to return the various bottles and tubes
to the bag tucked under the night stand, before their next 'guests' arrived.
The men didn't bother to knock, and certainly didn't take any precaution
by locking the door either.

Moving to the bed, they didn't bother with words, as they eyed the women, and
then each other. By some unspoken agreement, each took one of the pair, right
where they were lay, waiting on the rumpled bed spread. As she felt another
strange cock slipping into her pussy, true contact prevented only by the thin
layer of latex of the condom, Melissa wondered if the guests next door could
hear what was going on, or given the protesting mattress and springs, the
people in the room below. 

Spartan was too nice a term for the security office on the ground floor of the
run down hotel. The main room held the battered video monitors, and the base
unit for the hotel's radio system, which teetered on a plywood board table,
against the wall, beside the door. A mismatched pair of worn office chairs was
pushed against the desk in front of the recorders, that sat below the trio of
small black and white screens. The grainy images flickered and shifted at a
regular interval, pausing for a few seconds before stepping to the next camera.
The montage drew Hiram's attention, and for a moment, the stark terror that
had descended with the weight of the guard's broad hand on his shoulder eased.
It returned with full force, as he saw that at the end was a newer video setup,
with three professional recorders running, and a pair of split screen monitors
showing several angles of three rooms with women in various stages of undress.

It didn't take him a second to recognize the women in the right upper corner
of one screen, as being the pair that he'd just left. The larger man hadn't
let him stop to watch though. He'd casually pushed him through the second door
and into a smaller, windowless room. The door had closed behind him, cutting
off almost all light. Hiram Schultz had groped his way along the walls, one
hand waving into the room, as he felt for the straight backed chair that he'd
seen in the moment before the door had shut.

He didn't know how long he had sat there before the door opened. He blinked,
as an imposing silhouette joined him, the door closing behind the other man
again. Hiram blinked at the greenish scar, that the light had burned into his
vision, giving the room a false light that didn't reveal his visitor. He'd
been alone long enough for some of the fear to become anger, first at himself,
then at the women who'd obviously been in on the whole thing, and finally, at
the man who'd so calmly warned him about the 'rules', in a patently illegal
operation.

When the figure leaning against a wall somewhere in the blackness didn't speak,
Hiram opened his mouth, willing the quaver out of his voice. "What do you want?
We had a deal!"

"Yes, we did. And your behavior has jeopardized my entire business." 

"I did nothing of the sort."

"The deal was no names."

"They can't possibly know me."

"No? These aren't crack whores, man. They're already wondering why I brought a
Whitey in to shaft them. Then you start in about their husbands. But that's
okay, some of my customers have a bit of an issue with Whitey, and want to
hear that they're better than the bitches' husbands. But this was a special
case, and I said no names. You agreed no names. I guess you didn't believe me
when I said there'd be consequences." 

"I'm telling you that they can't possibly know who I am or what this was about!"

"No? Well between the times you was ballin' them like a wild man, all that
shit about being responsible was loud enough that I could hear it down here!"
the voice stopped at that, in an angry hiss. "You don't think they'll wonder
about that?"

"You can't do this to me."

"Can't do what? Can't hold you here, until I decide what to do with you? Trust
me, you're safer in here than out there." Hiram could make out a vague gesture
toward the door. "So tell me, smart guy, what happens the first time she sees
you at one of your society gatherings. You educators do have those, don't you?"

"Of course." Hiram shifted stiffly in the chair, even though he could still
hear the stammer in his voice. "But she's never... I mean, we won't meet there.
He doesn't bring her to school gatherings." 

"Uh huh. It only takes once," Tom replied, "and you know what? I don't think
she'd be the one to let on anything had happened. She'd know it in a second,
but her hubby would never know it from her. But you, I worry that you'd fuck
it up somehow."

"You can't use those tapes." Hiram interrupted, "They'd only prove that you're
a pimp, and you'd go to prison for helping them, for forcing them to do this."

"Oh really? Where am I on those tapes? In fact, what makes you think that they
wouldn't say that you were the one who made them do it all? If it were to come
out that is, that they were turning tricks." Tom paused before he continued,
"But that's the only reason we record everything, to make sure that you don't
go around telling everyone that there's a den of inequity, right here under
everyone's nose. That, and to protect the girls, in case you're a freaky deaky.
It isn't good business to threaten my customers, if you know what I mean, so
don't worry 'bout the tape. Hell, I can give you a copy of it if you want, so
you can remember getting back at the guy who made you hate women so much."
Hiram rocked at that, but Tom doubted he had really heard him. 

"Then if you're not going to try to blackmail me, why am I here?" 

"I already told you. You broke the rules. Now we have to decide how to make
that right."

"I can pay." Tom snorted.

"You can pay for all the tricks that might be lost, if those ladies figure out
what's what? If they spill that to the cops, and take down my whole operation?
I didn't know you were pullin' in seven figures, Professor, 'Cause that's
about what it'd take." Hiram wasn't sure if he believed that comment, but
reminded himself that the man he was talking to hadn't volunteered to turn his
peer's wife into a whore for kicks, it was business to him, pure and simple.

"Then what do you want?" For a moment, Hiram flashed on him, serving some
twisted form of the prostitution the women he'd just possessed endured. The
thought shook him, but Tom didn't leave him to those ludicrous thoughts. 

"It's simple really. You're going to get me a new girl." Tom didn't bother
explaining that the woman would be Mike's, he'd meant only to terrify the
little man, to preclude any near term blow-up. Then the guard had shown him
the pictures in the man's wallet. The woman was nearly as stunning as the pair
he'd ensnared at the man's behest, though for the life of him he couldn't
guess what the woman saw in this sniveling geek. He had to be loaded was all
that Tom could figure out. Tom waved off the professor's stammered protest.

"No, no, I don't mean your daughter, if you even have one, or your secretary,
or a co-ed in your Introduction to History class, though that last would be
kind of lucrative. And no, I don't mean that you have to go out and troll the
bars and trick some poor housewife into signing on. Nope, I'm talking about
the slut who's already stepping out on you." 

"My wife!" Hiram felt a strange loosening in his gut.

"Sure, the bitch who's fucking another guy. You don't think she deserves this,
as much as the poor women who you just fucked upstairs?" Tom feigned outrage,
"You didn't worry about what this would do to them at all, did you?"

The little man seemed to curl in on himself, and Tom knew that he'd soon have
a new white housewife to offer to his customers.

"Those two up there didn't do a thing to you, but you sold them out to hundreds
of strangers. HUNDREDS. Think about that. Think about the way you just treated
them up there. Neither of them was cheating on you!" he said, as he waved a
hand in the darkness.

"You don't have to say a thing to the bitch. All you have to do is tell me
where she goes. Somewhere where I can make her a little more, uh, cooperative,
without anyone noticing. Then we set her up for a little reeducation, and
you'll have complete revenge. You'll be able to make her squirm, since she
won't know that you know. You'll know that she's being forced to put out for
total strangers, therefore she'll be cheating on the guy that she's cheating
on you with. Punish her for what she did to you."

"I guess... I guess I don't have a choice." Hiram managed after a long moment.

"Oh, you do have a choice. I can let your wife see what you're up to. Or your
employer, two on one, with overtones of violence, I'm sure won't be appreciated
at a Jesuit school, will it? Or I could tell the women that you just fucked,
and let them know why they've been turning tricks all this time. I imagine they
might hunt you down, cut your dick off, and feed it to you. So it's not really
such a hard choice, is it?"

Hiram shook his head morosely. Tom laughed.

"Damn, from the look on your face you'd think that you loved the bitch. Tell
you what. I'll snap some pics of your honey and my girl's man, and anytime you
start to feel guilty, just glance at them, until you remember what she's done
to you." he said, knowing that he already had several such pictures, part of
his background check on the man, before he had agreed to 'recruit' the pair
that was shagging upstairs. "And when she's close to finishing up? I'll help
you catch her at 'work', so that you can leave her, and not get totally ripped
in the divorce."

The professor nodded his head slightly, and Tom hid his smile, thinking about
what Mike would say about the prospect of a new show piece, who'd already shown
a willingness to put out behind her hubby's back. 

"All right then. I'll have Marco see that you get to your car. Your job is to
make a list of every place that your wife goes, what she does, who she does it
with, and what she likes. Understand?"

The man bobbed his head, and Tom considered whether he should feel sorry for
the sniveling runt. Then he remembered what was happening to the fine women
more than a dozen floors above their heads, and any sympathy that he'd had,
vanished. The man had brought him two grade 'A' pieces of ass, but was a shit,
who likely deserved to have his woman fuck around of him.

He stepped over to the unlocked door, peeking out at the monitor, to gauge how
things were going, then motioned to the room and nodded, when Marco lifted the
professor's keys. "See that he gets headed home, Marco." Tom said, adding, "We
have a bit of business arranged. He'll be dropping off some papers for you to
get to me." The guard nodded silently, and then stepped around him and into the
room, reaching to the high wall switch, he turned on the light.

Tom waited until they'd left, then checked on the recorders, comparing the
images that he saw on the screens, with what he had expected to see. The girls
on ten were cleaning up between sessions, while the girls on fourteen were
working, he thought, on their fourth group of conventioneers. He noted with
satisfaction that Melissa and Kathy were already on their fourth pair of Johns.
As he watched, the fat man between Melissa's wide spread legs, threw his head
back, and Tom was fairly sure that the businessman from Minnesota was pumping
a load into the condom.

Checking his mental schedule, he decided to shuffle the last pair of men to
the girls on fourteen, who were also running fast, as he wanted to see how well
Mike's 'new idea' was working. He reached for his cell phone, then stopped and
picked up the security handset instead, dialing the clinic number. Mike picked
up on the second ring, asking how things were going. 

"Oh, I think I have something that you'll love." Tom said, but didn't elaborate,
"But I thought that I'd meet you at the downtown Gates. I'll bring the ladies,
and we can see how well your 'treatment' works." 

"Fine with me," Michael answered, "but when it works, to your satisfaction,
lunch is on you. And when people start to stare, it's not my fault."

Tom snorted his answer, and told Michael that they'd be there in fifteen
minutes, before he abruptly hung up. He radioed Marco to shepherd the women
back to the apartment when everyone was finished, then headed to the elevator
to retrieve Melissa and Kathy. 



                                Part 13



Melissa was lying flat on her back, her legs spread, and crotch pointed at the
door when Tom walked in. Kathy was sitting up, and moved to cover herself,
which prompted her friend to sit up on her elbows, examining their visitor.

"Damn girl," Tom chided playfully. "No wonder you two are done so fast, if
that's the way you're greeting them."

Melissa offered a pinched smile, as if she were aware that what she was doing
was horribly wrong, but was somehow becoming used to it, and shrugged as an
answer. "The faster we work, the faster we're free, right?"

Tom bobbed his head in acknowledgment, reminding himself that the pair was
still new enough, that they were trying to do the 'necessary' tricks in some
amazingly record short time, another six months, and neither would likely
remember that there was a goal. Of course, the trick was to keep them from
spiraling into drug use, and loose all of their caution, he'd lost too many
'wholesome' white housewives to the crack pipe, to take anything for granted.

That was what scared him about Michael's plan, was that it risked creating a
stable full of junkie whores. Michael had sworn up and down that it wasn't
that at all, he kept babbling about conditioning, and insisting that the sex
would be all that they got hooked on. Looking at the women, neither of whom
looked more satisfied, having taken a variety of cocks in their cunts in the
past two hours, Tom doubted his partner's claim.

"Well like I said, you're 'free' for lunch, now."

Melissa looked like she wanted to say something, but shrugged again and nodded,
after a hesitation.

Tom chose to ignore it, and continued, "Get dressed. I'm taking you two to
lunch."

The women moved obediently, if not eagerly at that, the worry clearly on their
faces.

"Relax ladies," he began, "we're doing bar-b-que downtown. There's very little
chance that you'll see anyone that you know." he smiled broadly at that, "and
I promise that I won't be pawing you in public. Maybe after lunch." offering
them a leer and raised eyebrows, "But I can't promise you that I'll want a
little dessert, being so full and all."

He watched as the women finished putting themselves in order to join him.
Neither bothered to dress or cover up, as they passed him on the way to the
bathroom, and he smiled at how quickly they'd gotten used to being his. The
make-up took a few moments, each touching up their garish lipstick and gaudy
eye shadow. He would have asked otherwise, but he didn't want to interrupt the
ritual that he knew that they must now associate with being whores.

Finished, it took each only moments to dress, a benefit of wearing skimpy
clothes. He wolf whistled when they were ready and standing before him in their
revealing dresses and spiked heels. These were definitely two hot housewives,
enough so that he had actually considered just keeping them to himself for an
hour or three. But he had a meeting to keep with Mike, and he was intrigued
about whether Kathy had been as 'conditioned' as the man had claimed.

The women climbed into his Seville quickly, through the driver's door. Kathy
going first, which left the petite blonde closer to him. That was fine,
considering that he expected to be inside of her in a short time. Before they
even pulled out of the underground parking lot, his hand was firmly planted
between her slightly spread thighs, with two of his fingers working into her
responsive cunt. Melissa let her head drop back, lolling slightly against his
shoulder, a faint smile on her lips, and her nipples tenting her dress.

The drive to Gates took only a few minutes, the Caddy rolling through green
lights, slowing as he pointed out Bazooka's to the girls. The 'juice bar' was
a local business that he found invaluable. The occasional reticent housewife,
faced with the choice of tricking with total strangers, or dancing where her
husband's friends might see her, invariably chose working on her back. Never
mind that he didn't know the owner of the place, or that the girls dancing
there were generally younger, and eager to sell themselves. His girls didn't
know enough about the sex scene, when he was breaking them in, to consider it
might be a bluff.

The car zipped past Crown Center, and the recently rebuilt Union Station,
places where the women might have spent the day shopping, had they not fallen
victim to his trap. He continued south on Main, to the little barbecue shop
near the site Bazookas had once stood. Inside, the weekend crowd was lighter
than the workday rush, and true to his word, the clientele were the locals, he
could count on one hand the number of white diners, and certainly none who
might know his women in their 'other' lives.

Tom smiled at the shouted 'Hi may I help you?' greeting, that was part of the
restaurant's charm. After a brief wait in line, he ordered for them and himself,
then paused at the condiment bar to collect the requisite combination of sauces,
while the women carried the trays at his direction. Fans turned silently
overhead, linked together by a long leather strap that snaked back to a single
motor in another room.

He led them to the northwest room, which was separated from the main dining
area, but retained a view of the city. The women followed docilely, trying not
to see anyone, and not to be noticed. The girl at the checkout counter had
popped her gum, eyeing them critically, but saying nothing. Tom enjoyed the
responses of the people they passed, looking around to watch the fun. Almost
universally, the women cast envious and/or venomous glares, and often turned
to strike their men, who were surreptitiously trying to ogle the beauties.

Kathy's entire manner shifted though, when she saw who was seated at a table
in their chosen room. Even from three steps ahead of her, Tom heard the
brunette's breath catch. He looked back, expecting that she'd look stricken or
scared. Instead, her eyes were heavy lidded. Her teeth indented her lower lip
slightly, and she held a hand in front of her crotch, pressing hard against it. 
Melissa eyed her friend as if she'd gone crazy, but Michael stood before the
blonde could react, moving forward and ignoring Kathy completely, asking Tom
to introduce him to Melissa. Tom did, going along with the other man's charade.
Kathy was still standing in the doorway, and Tom had to physically move her to
the table. He waited for some indication from Michael, who quickly sat Melissa
on his right side, then suggested Tom have Kathy sit between them on the other
side. He still hadn't so much as looked at the brunette.

"You're gorgeous!" he enthused, staring intently at Melissa, while Tom
distributed the food. She smiled hesitantly, looking toward her friend, who
was sitting ramrod straight, chest moving with her short, rapid breaths. Kathy
hadn't taken her eyes off of Michael, and didn't seem aware that anyone else
was even present. For several moments, Michael talked with Tom in generalities
about 'business', going on about how glad he'd been to be able to work with
Tom and 'his ladies', and insisting the job must be the best.

"I mean, who wouldn't want their choice of gorgeous women ready to ball you or
suck you off, or do whatever else you wanted them to do, man?" he looked around
conspiratorially, "I guess it's a good thing that we're alone back here, eh?"

Tom just nodded, he was amazed at the way Kathy was behaving. But it was just
the beginning. Michael's meal was almost finished, and he waved at the food
before Melissa and Tom.

"Go ahead and eat. I'll find some way to keep myself busy." he suggested.

As they did, while listening to Michael go on about the other people he'd met
at the clinic, Tom watched Kathy out of the corner of his eye. She still hadn't
touched her food, and seemed barely aware of anything but the man on her
left side. Abruptly Michael changed tack. He turned to the brunette. 

"My, but aren't you fine. We've met before, haven't we?"

Kathy managed a slight nod.

"Damn right we have, I'd never forget an ass like that. You're just too hot for
any one man, aren't you?"

Another brief nod, her teeth digging into her lower lip again.

"I'll bet that you want to do it right here, you're so hot, don't you?"

Tom managed not to choke, when Kathy nodded yet again, without so much as
glancing at him, and Melissa gasped audibly.

"Then go at it, baby. Why don't you suck me off, while our friends here eat.
We'll get a doggie bag for your food."

Tom stared at Michael in amazement. That was too much, there was no way even a
housewife that Tom had worked completely into her role in his stable would do
something so blatant in public. But even as he told himself that it was
impossible, Kathy shifted around. He leaned back in amazement, as the brunette
unhesitatingly dropped to her knees, ducking under the table. There was an
audible 'zip', and a moment later Michael was leaning back, with one hand on
the woman's head, as she offered him a fervent blow job. The wet slurping and
sucking noise seemed to fill the room, and Tom self-consciously checked to be
sure that no one else had noticed.

Melissa was still staring at the vacant spot where her friend had been. Her
eyes searched the restaurant as Tom's were, and finally coming to rest on her
pimp. He saw the hint of fear in her eyes, asking what had happened to her
friend, and if she'd have to join her. Tom shrugged minutely, then pointedly
resumed eating. Melissa grudgingly followed suit, her body tensing each time
Michael made a low compliment or request, or whenever they heard the low moans
Kathy was making.

A few minutes passed, and then Michael grabbed the table, thrusting against
Kathy's bobbing head and cuming noisily, loudly telling her to 'swallow it all',
and asking 'doesn't that taste good?' The muffled response to the question, an
obvious assent, startled Tom and Melissa alike. Kathy cleaned him dutifully,
zipped him up, then resumed her seat. Her eyes were only for the man she'd
just eagerly blown in public, not caring if anyone else had seen her doing it
or not. She sat at the side of her chair leaning close to Michael, shivering
visibly when he set a hand on her thigh.

Tom had already decided the man's 'mix' would have a definite use for his
business. The question was whether it was too strong. He had a sudden image of
Kathy hanging onto Michael's leg, and refusing to go back to her husband. Or
worse, refusing to turn a trick without him being present. But he'd satisfied
Hiram's paid demand for the woman, and had realized not one, but a pair of new
recruits who'd been turning tricks for nearly three months, and had
successfully tested a new drug combination with her, so even if she proved
useless as a 'married white whore', after Michael's little experiment, he
couldn't complain.

Melissa excused herself to go to the ladies room, clutching her small handbag,
and waiting uselessly for a moment for Kathy to join her. She was gone for
several minutes, long enough Tom imagined that she might have been getting
herself off, to alleviate what she'd likely begun to feel, while watching her
friend throw herself so fully into the role he'd forced them to assume.

Instead, Melissa had choked down all three of the airline sized bottles of
Jack Daniel's that she'd sequestered in her purse that morning. She'd hoped to
keep them for later in the week, and had meant to stash them in various nooks
and hidey-holes in her home and at work. What she'd just seen though, had cut
through what buzz that lingered from her earlier binge. She couldn't believe
Kathy had done it so calmly. She was still afraid Tom would demand similar
treatment from her, and while she'd been more than a little aroused at the
thought of being with him during the drive over, the idea that she might be
asked to be a whore in public, made her sick to her stomach.

The nausea eased, as the alcohol quickly blurred the edges once more. She
checked her make-up, popped a pair of tic-tacs, chewing the tiny candies in
her haste, and returned to the table, after carefully tucking the empty bottles
into the trash. She tried to make a mental note to pick up more on her way
home, the liquor stores would be closed the next day, and she didn't want to
be caught short.

Kathy's behavior didn't change during the rest of the meal. She hung onto
Michael's every word, and seemed to hunger for his touch, yet she didn't act
out or seem possessive or jealous. When Tom suggested that they head back to
the hotel for a more 'friendly' discussion, Michael smiled and agreed, then
suggested that he drive Melissa back, while Tom returned with Kathy. Tom
realized that it was a demonstration of how much power he had over the brunette,
and was impressed when Kathy simply nodded, making no effort to argue, and
smiling serenely rather than pouting.

In fact, the moment that Michael was out of her sight, it was as if nothing
had happened. Kathy was as obedient as she'd been since agreeing to Tom's terms,
but the reserve crashed back into place. She was almost frigid, compared to
what he'd seen at lunch. Most amazingly though, was that she seemed unaware
that her behavior had been any different before. Tom told her to lean against
him and she did, submitting to his caresses and attention, but remaining
distant. Tom found himself wanting her to react as she had for Michael, and
wondered if that total unconscious devotion could be shifted from person to
person.

He stopped himself from working her up manually, interested in how quickly
she'd be ready to fuck from a 'standing start', when she saw Michael again.
There were a number of things that he needed to check, before he bought into
his partner's idea of a 'pharmacologic leash', but there was so much potential
already, that it wouldn't be easy to keep an open mind. Open pants however,
was a different story. Tom smiled, as he considered the sort of 'research' he
was about to do.



                                 Part 14



He and Kathy were the first back to the room, Tom had used his cell phone to
tell Michael to give them a few minutes. He had the brunette suck him hard,
again wishing that she showed the almost need to give head that had been
apparent, when she'd been with Mike. Once he was hard, he sent her to the
bathroom, telling her to shower. She was still inside, when the door opened
and Mike followed Melissa into the room. The blonde's eyes were glassy, but
she smiled when she saw Tom, and he realized that to her, he was a reprieve.
He wondered if she'd been afraid she'd develop the same attachment to a John.

She sauntered over to him, almost sexily, tugging at the front tie of her
dress, and asking with her eyes, if he wanted her naked. He was standing in
the middle of the room naked, Kathy's saliva still coating his rod, and he
nodded, smiling as the blonde fumbled briefly with the tie in her hurry to
obey him. She bared her breasts, before raising the short skirt, and shimmying
out of the garment, leaving her equally bare. He pulled her close, enjoying
the way that she shivered from the contact of their bodies, his shaft trapped
between them, pressing against her firm belly. At a word, she dropped to her
knees and began to service his cock, her willingness a comforting salve,
compared to her friend's lackluster effort. Tom wondered how the Johns couldn't
see the difference, then admitted that there was probably less variance when
the women were with men that they didn't know.

He didn't wait for Kathy to come out of the bathroom, before pushing her friend
onto her back, holding her ankles up, and slipping into her in a slow, smooth
stroke that filled the blonde completely.

Melissa arched her back, mewling in delight, licking her lips and rocking
against Tom's cock, wanting more of him, and wanting it faster. He gave it to
her, getting her off, just as Kathy emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped
around her body. She stopped at the sight before her.

For a moment, Tom thought that it was the shock of seeing Melissa rutting
beneath him, but then he followed the direction of her eyes. All she seemed to
see was Michael. He turned, and she rushed to him, throwing her arms around
him, dropping to her knees, fingers scrabbling at his belt and trousers. He
stopped her with a word, though, and at his direction, Kathy fell back on the
bed beside Melissa, spreading her legs and fingering her suddenly flowing
cunt.

Tom was amazed as he looked at the brunette. Gooseflesh was visible all over
her arms and thighs, and she was licking her dry lips, as her eyes were locked
onto Michael, as he stripped. She'd never acted so wanton, even under the drug
cocktail that he'd used to ensnare them. Melissa writhed and voiced her
displeasure at his stopping within her. He looked down, seeing pleasure on the
petite blonde whore's face, but not the devotion that was obvious on her
friend's.

"Do you want this?" Michael asked quietly, waving his naked, erect cock
suggestively. Kathy bit her lip, nodding visibly. "Badly?" he teased, earning
another nod. "What'll you do for me to get it?"

"Anything!" Kathy's voice was hoarse.

Tom drove into Melissa more forcefully, intent on keeping the blonde from
realizing what was happening. She was responding readily too, shivering and
panting, near an orgasm if not already cuming. He allowed that his methods had
done well on turning at least one of the pair on to her sexuality.

"Anything?" Michael echoed, waiting while Kathy nodded in confirmation. "You'd
blow my friend there? Make him really believe that you liked it?" Kathy blushed
but nodded. "You'd let him fuck your ass? And then tell him how good it felt
and squirm and moan like you were cuming from my fucking you?" Another more
desperate nod. "You need it that badly?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever needed anything more?" Kathy blushed, nipping at her lip again,
but shook her head. "What about your husband?" A tear then fell down her cheek,
but she shook her head firmly. "You need my cock more than you need your
husband?" Kathy swallowed, pausing as if trying to fight the answer, before
she nodded. "If you have to tell him what you've been doing, and what you are,
in order to have my cock inside of you, would you do it?"

"I'll tell him."

Tom knew his mouth was hanging open, there was no way that the uptight brunette
could have been made so submissive. He knew some girls developed an attachment
to their pimp, Melissa was showing signs of that as she spasmed on his driving
cock yet again, but Kathy wasn't that type.

"You don't have to do that." Michael assured the trembling brunette. "I like
you. I want to put my cock inside of you. But only if I can cum inside of you."

"All right."

"You could get pregnant."

"I know." she replied, as Tom shook his head in amazement.

"Then you're in luck," Michael smiled, motioning for Kathy to approach him.
She did like a love starved puppy. "See this?" he said, as he withdrew a small
syringe from his pocket.

Kathy stopped, but didn't back away. And didn't say 'no' to what he was
implying. She nodded after a beat.

"This will keep you from getting pregnant. I just give it to you before we
fuck, and you're totally safe."

Kathy nodded, turning to offer him her naked ass cheek.

"No, I need it to go in your veins. But that's no problem." he said, as he
whipped out a rubber tourniquet and applied it to the trembling brunette.
Within seconds, the needle was in and he'd injected the contents. As Tom
watched, Michael released the tourniquet and then withdrew the needle, ignoring
the spot of blood that appeared on Kathy's arm, as he whispered something to
her.

She nodded, still visibly agitated, but dropped eagerly to her knees and
seemed to literally throw herself at Michael's cock. He crooned endearments
over the brunette's bobbing head, but was checking his watch as he did so. He
abruptly stopped her efforts, directing her onto her back on the rumpled
bedcover, still standing between her legs. Kathy raised her calves, curling
them around his waist and pulling him towards her naked dripping cunt, with a
need that Tom could almost feel. Michael held himself just outside of her
swollen labia, brushing his tip over her sex teasingly.

"Tell me," he said quietly. "tell me that you need it."

"God, I need it! Please fuck me!" Kathy groaned, humping up against him
uselessly.

"I don't think you're ready." Michael said, as he shook his head in mock
concern.

"I am! Take me! Please! Fuck me! Give me your cock! Your beautiful cock. Give
me, give me, give me." her voice broke, as he slipped into her fully, and held
himself there.

"Like that?" he teased.

Kathy could offer no verbal reply, save for a gargling moan, her entire body
seized from the strength of her climax.

"There you are." Michael crooned, sawing in and out of her slightly. "See how
good this cock makes you feel?" more unintelligible grunts from the panting,
sweating brunette. "All you have to do to feel this is do whatever I say. Then
you'll get my cock. And get all of this pleasure."

Kathy nodded slightly, still humping back against him mindlessly. Michael was
barely moving, but his cock dipped in and out of her cunt completely, she was
pumping her hips so violently.

He kept checking his watch, then abruptly bore down on the brunette, forcing
her twitching body to the mattress and hammering into her like a steam piston.
She arched her back, her mouth open wide, her chest not moving, as if she
couldn't breathe. Then she shrieked, loudly enough that Tom guessed he'd have
to pay someone to fix it. At the same moment, Michael went stiff, clearly
firing his jism into her pussy. As Tom watched, the brunette's eyes rolled
back in her head, and she went limp, held up in part by Michael's still firing
cock inside of her. He slipped out of her and smiled at Tom, who'd just
finished filling Melissa's cunt with his own cream.

"That should do it. A second dose is usually easy to give. I used to do it
orally, but the absorption rate is so variable, that timing it was hard. But
you gave me the perfect out, the pregnancy thing. Mix in a little 'morning
after' meds, and Walla, a perfect cocktail."

"What'd it do?" Tom asked quietly, watching Melissa out of the corner of his
eye, relaxing when it seemed she'd drifted off to sleep.

"Nothing much," Michael smiled wolfishly. "Just reinforced that it's the sex,
specifically sex with my cock, that gives her that feeling. Then you can
recreate the sensations by having sex. They'll do whatever you ask to 'feel'
that rush again. Make them put out like a banshee to 'earn' a ride on your
cock. Hell, it may even work just telling them that any time they're having
sex as a whore, they'll feel it too. I don't know what all you can do with it
yet. I just know that it'll help create an eager nymphomaniac whore. Then it's
easy to get them to trick, it'd be kind of risky balling every guy that she
saw to get her fix. Doing that'd be a sure way to have the man of the house
find out."

"And it's a narcotic concoction?"

"Mostly, the heroin or morphine drops their inhibitions and blurs the pain, so
that only the pleasure's left. There's a synthetic Ecstasy analogue, to amp up
desire and responsiveness, and a touch of sedative also, to help drop their
inhibitions, and to help with a retrograde amnesia. And then there's a
psychogenic compound, it's experimental, but it's easy to make and it works.
It's not that different from the cocktail that you've been using for their
training, except for the psychogenic drug that I've added, that's what really
makes the rest work. I can show you what I use, and even how to make it."

"Wait a minute. If there's amnesia, how can it help?"

"Simple. I'm doing some patterning with the drugs, getting her to associate my
cock with the feelings that she had from the drugs. Then drop the drugs, but
she'll still have the feelings. And with little doses every now and then, you
reinforce that association. Or with larger doses, you can 'shift' the
association, say to her new pimp, or to a sheik, or whatever."

Tom nodded his head in understanding. "So you don't always have to give it, or
give larger doses, or worry that she'll suddenly ball anything with a cock."

"Not unless that's what you want." Michael said, smiling at Tom and wondered
how often he'd done that in the past. "She'll be out for a bit, and probably
won't remember too much of what happened when she comes to, except that she'll
be ashamed, knowing that it felt so good, that she wants whatever it was again.
Like I told you, it's an invisible leash for your bitches."

Tom nodded, and they sat at the desk by the window for a bit, quietly
discussing the specifics of Mike's cocktail, and his and Tom's business. Tom
could feel it, the new drug was a good open. The time was ripe for expansion.

They were gone when Melissa awoke, groaning and grasping her temples in a vain
attempt to shut out the headache from her two earlier binges. She treated it
by opening two of the tiny servi-bar bottles, Jack and Southern Comfort, and
tossing them down in rapid succession. Her head felt no better, but the
spreading warmth made dealing with the condition of her body easier. She was
showering when Kathy stumbled into the steam filled bathroom.

"Kat?" Melissa asked to be sure.

"Yeah." the brunette mumbled in answer, stepping into the shower with her
friend. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Melissa couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.
"What happened is that you seemed quite smitten by that guy that got you out
of trouble last week."

"Why do you say that?" Kathy asked, wetting her hair under the feeble stream
of water dribbling from the hotel's shower head.

"Well, maybe it's seeing you on your knees, blowing him in the middle of Gates."

"I didn't!"

"You did. You mean you don't remember it?"

"I... I sort of do. It's just... it's like I was watching someone else, you
know?"

Melissa muttered something.

"What?"

"I said, 'you'd better lay off of the booze'. Sorry, I know you don't drink,
it was just... I couldn't believe that you did it. And then I thought that Tom
would have me doing it next. I wish I could forget what happened, like you
have."

"It was bad?" Kathy wrapped her arms around her smaller friend, suddenly glad
that they had some time together, it'd been too long since she'd been able to
show Melissa that she loved her.

"No, not bad. I just... God, I hate it that I get off so well when Tom's
fucking me. It makes me feel like I'm betraying Jeff, you know?"

"No, I... well sort of... It's never... I mean I hadn't..."

"What's never?"

"I'd never really gotten off completely before. Never. I mean sometimes with
Fred, and sometimes when we're 'working', but it's never felt... complete.
That wasn't bad... it's not any different at home. But this today... I don't
know how to describe it. It just... it feels so good that I want it to feel
like that again, and soon."

The women lapsed into a companionable silence, broken by soft moans, as each
unthinkingly began to soap and rinse the other, their hands tenderly reaching
to ease the hurt, and then to bring pleasure.

It was another twenty minutes before either considered turning the water off,
and together they moved to the nearest bed, falling into a tangle of arms and
legs, and forgetting the horror that had become their lives for a few intimate
moments. Unlike the need based coupling with the men before, Melissa and Kathy
focused on one another, on giving pleasure, rather than having it taken from
them.

Afterwards, lying arm in arm, Melissa thought about what Kathy had said. It
still didn't fit with the way she'd behaved though. It was like they'd both
acted when Tom had drugged them, forcing them to become his whores, except it'd
been spontaneous. There was no way that he could've given her anything from
across the room. She shrugged, figuring the doc had maybe managed to find a
soft spot in her friend when he'd saved her from a most unwanted pregnancy.
Kathy hadn't mentioned any hanky panky, but given who had referred her, and
the way they'd behaved earlier, she would've bet something had happened at the
'clinic'. But no lasting harm seemed to have been done. Kathy was her normal,
loving self, and in some ways, Melissa was glad they were stuck in the
nightmare together, she couldn't imagine they'd have found love with one
another otherwise. 

Her initial concern that her friend had snapped, and had decided that all men
needed servicing at the merest whim, was put to rest. They drew out their
intimacy until housekeeping was becoming impatient, then paid for a cab back
to the apartment, where they retrieved their things and went down to their car,
each leaning against the other, finding some comfort in what they'd just
shared. And the promise that they'd be together whatever happened, as they
struggled to reach the magic 400 fucks. Something about the whole day though,
kept nagging at Mel, even after she'd gotten home.



                                  Part 15



Jeff and the boys were still out at the boys' soccer games. Melissa fixed
herself a stiff Long Island Iced Tea, letting the drink eat away at the
tensions left by whoring that morning, and putting out so sluttishly that
afternoon. After the second, the guilt she still felt at her relationship with
Kathy had eased, as had the nagging voice that something was amiss. She was
well on her way to being blind drunk by the time the rest of the family
returned home.

Frightened of being seen that way, she staggered into the bathroom, stepping
into an ice cold shower that was still pounding down on her muddled head when
Jeff poked his head into the bathroom. He sounded relieved when he found her
'getting ready' as he termed it. Melissa struggled to come up with an answer
to what he'd meant. Then it registered, the art auction at the local mall.

She glanced at the clock on the sink by the shower, they had forty minutes.
She climbed out of the shower, still dripping wet, and began to consider make-
up and accessories, pausing long enough to take a healthy hit from the open
bottle of Vodka in her vanity. She felt in control, as they pulled into the
garage parking lot at the mall, just enough buzz to put up with the horrible
things that she'd been doing hours before, and the banal conversation that
would ensue within.

The shops were open inside, but the usual crowd was gone, and in its place,
wandered women in plunging back glittering dresses, on the arms of men in
tuxedos, both off the rack and custom tailored styles. No overwhelming opulence,
but certainly more of an air than Melissa enjoyed in the best of circumstances.
Waiters with plastic champagne flutes moved through the crowd of people
speaking politely to one another, while searching for a victim upon which to
pounce. Melissa quickly grabbed a glass from a passing tray, sampling the
bubbling alcohol, and smiling automatically, as Jeff moved through the crowd,
introducing her to several of the people with whom he did business. A second
and third glass disappeared in the next half hour, without Jeff or anyone
seeming to notice. She felt loose behind the pasted on smile. As she mouthed
niceties and greeted passers by and hangers on alike, she couldn't help but to
compare what she was doing, with what she did for Tom, at neither time was
she really herself.

She'd been skirting the knots of people, saying an intermittent hello or
grinning at a 'remembered' joke, but trying to avoid any prolonged discussion.

"Appetizer, ma'am?" a young man asked, stepping up in front of her suddenly.
She stopped and blinked, trying to focus on the face that was suddenly so
close. She shook her head, and the waiter moved on. She blinked again, dimly
aware that she'd noticed something right before their near collision. Maybe
that last drink had been a bit too much.

She stood unmoving, trying to keep the faces moving past her in focus. Jeff
was nowhere nearby. She took a halting step, expecting to crash into another
platter wielding waiter. There was none. Three more steps brought her to the
nearest wall. She put it to her back, and resolved to return to the car.
Except that it was a struggle to remember where they'd come in, or where they'd
walked after they'd entered. Had they gone up any stairs? She saw a nearby
wrought iron bench, and moved to sit down, trying to remain calm, and blink
away whatever was wrong with her eyes.

Jeff found her minutes later, concern was evident in his voice, as he asked if
she was all right. She gave an embarrassed laugh, explaining that she hadn't
eaten much during the day, and had made the mistake of downing 'a couple'
glasses of the bubbly, which had left her 'tipsy'. Even in the time she'd been
sitting her vision had improved noticeably, though changing focus from near to
far or back remained difficult. Jeff apologized profusely, blaming himself for
keeping her too busy to eat, and suggested that they drive downtown to the
plaza for a nice dinner. Melissa nodded gratefully, clutching at her husband's
arm as they meandered through the various displays and exhibits.

Jeff paused a few times, checking bids on the silent auction items, making a
counter here or there. Glancing up at a shouted word, he waved to someone
across the room, prompting Melissa to refocus to the distance. It was in that
moment that she knew what she'd been feeling before, a sense of being watched.
Standing behind the man that she and Jeff were approaching was a large black
waiter. 

The man's eyes never left her, as she tried to match the eerily familiar face
to a name. The man certainly hadn't been around her work, the catering was too
high class for the occasional educator luncheon or dinner meeting. She doubted
that he was a fellow teacher, and was sure that she would remember if they had
been at many meetings together. It was strange that he seemed so focused on
her, and then she had a horrible thought, he could have easily been inside of
her without her even seeing his face.

Her sudden realization must have been plain on her face, as to her dismay, the
waiter broke out in a huge grin. His eyes cut to Jeff, and he pursed his lips,
then shook his head. He winked at her, moving a hand from his side to his
crotch suggestively. Melissa blushed fiercely, scared that she didn't even
remember him, and terrified that she suddenly would. 

Her body felt suddenly numb, as she had come to associate with the time that
she spent on her back, humping her sex against whatever John was fucking her.
A wave of nausea crested at the awareness that she was becoming aroused, not
understanding the connection her body made between that feeling and the
expected sexual performance to follow, wondering how she could react so
strongly to a man whose casual use of her body was lost to conscious thought.

She turned away, praying Jeff hadn't noticed anything and that the man wouldn't
make a scene. She grabbed another drink from a passing tray, downing it in
three gulping swallows, that Jeff never noticed, as he laughed with his
colleague or customer. She set the empty glass on a nearby auction table with
a shaking hand. The prickling warmth between her legs didn't abate. Worse, she
felt her nipples getting stiff, and prayed it wasn't visible through her dress.

When she looked up, already feeling the return of some difficulty focusing her
eyes, the waiter was no longer standing by the wall. She breathed a sigh of
relief, until she felt a presence behind her. She bit her lip, as a tuxedoed
arm reached around her to pick up the fluted glass.

"Allow me to get that, ma'am. Is there anything else that I can give you?"

Jeff paused in his discussion, and turned as Melissa tried not to blush or
faint or gasp or react in any way.

"N, no," she stammered, cursing the way her body seemed hungry for his touch.
"I've already had too much."

"I see."

She wanted to scream at the man's tone of voice, she was sure that Jeff would
know. The man offered an almost leer, as he said, "My apologies, I just
wondered if you wanted a... bigger serving than you have."

"No thanks." Jeff answered for her, patting her hand. "She's already over her
limit. I'm going to have to take her home now, if I want any chance to enjoy
this evening fully."

"I'm sure that you'll have a wonderful evening, sir. Please excuse me." and
then he was gone.

Melissa heaved a quiet sigh of relief, but couldn't relax after the encounter,
to meet a man that she'd serviced, with her husband standing beside her, to
feel her body responding with a lust that she almost couldn't control and
feared that she wouldn't be able to hide it the next time. She needed to speak
to Tom. She wondered if he would agree to arrange for her to do her 'work' on
the other side of the river, or in one of the smaller neighboring cities.

That thought increased her anxiety, as she guessed she'd be 'working' for him
even longer than she'd grown to expect, if he did agree. But she had to make
sure that Jeff never ran into someone else who 'knew' her so intimately. She
shuddered, imagining if the man had been less discreet, she wondered how she'd
have reacted, if he'd demanded something else for his silence. She wished she'd
taken the man's offer for another drink, and was still shaking when they got
to Jeff's Blazer. He offered her his coat, which she took gratefully, hoping
to at the least hide her body's persistent reaction to the chance encounter.

At the Dwyer household, Fred had been in an unusually horny mood, and Kathy
had found herself lying in their bed, with her legs spread, as her husband
thrust into her, in short jabbing strokes, no real rhythm, she considered
analytically, his breath gusting over her, rank with the odor of his pipe. She
bit her lip in frustration, angry that he hadn't bothered with foreplay though
that was nothing new, and surprised at how unaroused she was, even as he neared
his own climax, usually she'd be sufficiently excited that she'd be able to
quickly finish herself off in the bathroom, when he'd finally rolled off of
her.

For a long moment, she was consciously glad that she'd been tricking that
morning, at least she'd gotten to cum with Tom's friend Michael. In the next
minute she was ashamed at thinking in that way, even though thinking of Michael
had triggered a rush of excitement. That disappeared quickly though, as she
thrust such thoughts from her mind, trying to quietly endure the friction of
her husband's penis pushing in and out.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he came a moment later, and pulled out,
leaving his still leaking penis against her thigh. Wincing, Kathy rose, barely
disturbing her husband, and padded into the bathroom. She cleaned herself off,
then ran a hot bath, luxuriating in the swirling water as she let her mind go.
To her mingled fear and undeniable arousal, though, her thoughts soon focused
on the afternoon's experience, and more importantly, the man she'd been with.

Sex with Michael had been like nothing she'd ever known, good enough that
being Tom's whore suddenly seemed, tolerable, so long as she saw Michael again.
After masturbating to a satisfying, if incomplete orgasm, Kathy dried off
before she climbed into bed, beside her snoring husband. She drifted off to
sleep, wondering when Tom would call again, almost anxious to work, in the
hope of seeing Michael again.

At dinner, Melissa found she remained intolerably jumpy, the near crisis at
the party serving as a thorough buzz killer. She agreed to Jeff's suggestion
of a bottle of wine, and had enjoyed three glasses before their salads were
finished. Jeff ordered a second bottle for the main course, without so much as
a thought that his first glass was still unfinished. Despite the booze, Melissa
found herself eyeing every man who passed their table, worried that someone
else would recognize her from her 'moonlighting'. She was more than tipsy by
dinner's end, giggling at Jeff's interactions with an obviously gay waiter
who'd hit on her husband throughout their meal, without giving her a second
glance.

Chastened by the knowledge that she'd been a willing whore to Tom that
afternoon, she pressed herself against her husband, enjoying their time
together, and pleased to find that even half pickled, she was aroused and
could respond to the man that she'd married, as they left the restaurant for
their car. The paranoia of earlier eased enough that she almost missed the
knowing look of the night guard, strolling through the parking garage.

Maybe it was the change in the cadence of his walk, but Melissa looked up and
over at him as they passed, her breath catching at the half memory of the same
man leaning over her, puffing and grunting as he thrust a better than average
sized cock into her twitching box. She blushed, aware that this stranger was
one of those who'd been skilled enough, or concerned enough about her pleasure,
that she'd cum with him. Her focus narrowed to her body, which responded more
explosively than it had earlier in the rushing onset of arousal. 

She blinked, acutely aware that some part of her was almost anxious to lie
back on the asphalt and let this stranger take her again. Before she could
look away, or somehow speed their course to the car, Jeff glanced over to see
what had distracted her. The guard nodded politely.

"Evening folks." he said and Jeff responded in kind, as the man smiled.

"Your wife?"

"As a matter of fact, she is." Jeff said almost arrogantly. "Thought I'd take
her out on the town and show her how much I love her."

"She's an amazing lady." the guard offered, as he sauntered past. "You two
have a safe trip home, now."

Melissa was still trying to reassure herself that the man had said 'amazing
lady' and not 'amazing lay' without considering the suggested intimacy of his
comment when Jeff chuckled.

"Perceptive man. I'll bet the cars here are safer than anywhere else in the
city."

Melissa forced a laugh with him, hoping Jeff didn't notice, and desperately
relieved that her husband hadn't become suspicious at the man's attitude.
Safely inside the SUV, Melissa was dismayed when Jeff wanted to neck, before
leaving.

"The guard!" she scolded, pushing him away. "Like you said, he's very alert.
I'm embarrassed." Jeff paused, then smiled.

"All right. I guess I can always pull over somewhere on the way home. It'll be
more exciting that way lover."

Melissa tried to smile at him, all the while resolving not to go back into the
city with him until long after she'd repaid what Tom claimed she 'owed'. If
ever. Seeing a former John once had been too close for comfort, twice was
almost enough to prompt an emergency call to Tom, even if it did increase her
'debt'.

She shivered, wondering if she would ever feel safe in public with her husband
again. She jumped when Jeff's hand moved to her inner thigh, and he chuckled,
teasing that she was 'too tense' and promising that he had 'just the medicine
for that'. She nodded, smiling weakly, already thinking about where she could
get a hit of something before Jeff expected her to perform.



                                 Part 16



Sundays usually served as at least a partial respite for the women. They could
enjoy church, and time with friends and family without fear that Tom would
need them for a 'job'. Neither woman looked particularly relaxed, as they met
in the fellowship hall before Sunday school. They agreed that they desperately
needed to talk to one another, and were just as certain that they wouldn't
have sufficient time before the end of the weekend, their 'time together' was
already often a point of contention with both husbands.

They briefly discussed eating together as families, but dismissed it out of
hand, as Fred was jealous of Jeff's success and ease with people, and never
failed to make snide remarks, that the other man seemed unable to ignore. The
women agreed that they'd have to eat together the next week, the sooner the
better.

"Are you OK?" Kathy asked, as she was worried about the circles beneath her
friend's eyes, and couldn't miss the hint of alcohol on her breath.

"Yeah." Melissa paused, taking a calming breath. "I just had a hellish night
last night. We bumped into not 1 but 2..." she looked about the milling throng
of people, "former clients."

Kathy felt her mouth fall open in surprise. "You're kidding."

"I wish."

"No wonder that you're hitting it early. I'd have climbed into a bottle, and
not come out again."

Melissa's eyes flashed angrily, but she nodded a moment later.

"Yeah. I need to watch it." Kathy patted her friend's shoulder reassuringly.

"We can get through this. Just lean on me love."

The petite blonde glanced up at her friend, biting her lower lip unconsciously.
"God, I need to be with you for awhile. Last night... it was hard being with
Jeff, without his knowing... and wanting it to feel different, but..." she
wiped at a tear that threatened to fall.

"Shhh... I know, hon'. Believe me. I keep finding myself flashing on... the
pleasant times. It scares me that I'd rather be there sometimes than with him.
But maybe that's how we are adjusting to get through it."

"Maybe," Melissa sniffed, not sounding convinced. "but I told myself that I'd
keep it separate. If I can't even do that, what hope is there I'll be able to
do this without Jeff finding out?" She then set about touching up her mascara
and make-up with her compact, resisting the urge to take a hit from the small
'water' bottle in her purse.

"We'll make it." Kathy soothed, ashamed that part of her was anxious to do
more work for Tom, but unable to keep from feeling that way.

The milling, smiling crowd was thinning out, as people headed into the
sanctuary, and as usual, Melissa and Kathy sat together about six rows from
the front, on the pulpit side, their families beside them. The imposing wooden
lectern partially hid the day's 'guest speaker', who was introduced as a
'deacon from their sister church downtown'.

When the pastor had completed the call to worship, he stepped out to the
center, away from the pulpit, shuffling his pages nervously, before he glanced
out at the congregation. He cleared his throat, then launched into a halting
introduction, that the visitor cut short by stepping to the pulpit, and waving
his arms theatrically.

"Friends!" he said, his booming voice brought both women's head up. The man's
dark ebony skin glistened in the lights, emphasized by the cream colored linen
three-piece suit that he wore. He calmly grasped the microphone, pulling it
free of the stand on the pulpit, then vacated the lectern, moving to the center
of the raised dias, beside the gaping pastor, his attention fixed on the
suddenly attentive assemblage.

"I have come today!" his cadence was the stereotypical Southern Baptist
preacher's, fiery and loud enough to forgo the microphone entirely. "I am here
to spread a message." His eyes, his whole body, shifted from side to side,
addressing each of the church's three tiers of seats, as if individually. "A
message not of love, but of danger! A danger that rests among you, and
unchecked, will tear your families apart from within!"

He strode back and forth, waving his free hand for emphasis. "I have heard it
is too late for my people. And I shouted NO! It wasn't so. But I will tell you,
that it wasn't easy. No, staying true to the Lord's word seldom is. So I vowed,
Never would I let this happen to another of God's families, my family by
extension."

His eyes roamed the congregation as he paused. "You wonder what it is. Drugs?
The Devil's candy. No, that is an evil each of us must face, my friends. But
it pales in comparison to this. Violence? God's faithful recognize the
potential to do good in the face of that, my brothers. So I do not come to
warn you of that. Hatred? The Lord cries to see his church, wherever it is,
used as a tool to spread the Devil's word. But that is not why I'm here."

He paused again, and in the moment before he began to speak, his eyes flashing
from parishioner to parishioner, Melissa stiffened, aware of why the man
seemed so familiar. She could almost feel the heat of his skin, as he thrust
against her, cursing and demeaning her, taunting her for her 'filthy lust' and
for 'betraying her oaths'. He'd been with both women, and Kathy's stiff
posture was sign enough that she'd recognized him too. The women sat there
mesmerized, as he licked his lips before continuing. For a horrible moment,
Melissa was sure that he was looking right at her.

"I am saying, my friends, we must recognize the demon in our midst. The petite
blonde slut, the whore of Satan!"

Melissa choked back a moan or scream, unable to believe that she was about to
be exposed in front of the entire church. She felt Kathy's hand touch her
thigh, whether to support her or restrain her, she'd never know. She'd lost
track of what the Deacon was saying, and glanced around, sure that she'd see
every eye on her. Instead, the other members of the congregation remained
totally focused on the dervish of a preacher, who was striding back and forth
before them. To her amazement, several of the parishioners were smiling, and
nodding in agreement.

"... sort of thing you expect to hear, when you see me?" The man's tone had
changed completely. He'd moved back behind the pulpit, gently replacing the
microphone in its cradle, and had his hands braced at the sides, leaning
forward like any pastor that Melissa could remember, except that he'd been
hunched over her only a few days ago, thrusting into her, with lewd delight at
'despoiling' a married, WHITE woman. She shuddered, as she listened to his
message.

"I can't claim that much energy, or I'm too shy to go on like that anymore
than you just saw. But that's not necessary to get the point across. When you
see the flyer for our joint church picnic at the end of the month, I want you
to think about how we're communicating now, versus how you thought we would be
interacting when I began. Now, don't think that I'm saying anything is
wrong about your reaction to my little act," he smiled. "but I am saying that
maybe, what we need to regain, or to develop for the first time, is a sense of
community. To learn about all of our brothers, in the eyes of the Lord. See
what we have in common. I hope to see each and everyone of you there and I
thank you for allowing me to speak to you today."

He smiled again, and then stepped back, as the pastor reclaimed his position
at the pulpit, thanking the Deacon for his help, and reiterating the importance
of the joint social, which would be held in the large park near the Plaza.
The rest of the service was a blur. Melissa was shaking visibly, as they left
the sanctuary. Jeff put an arm around her, asking if she was all right. She
nodded, praying that they wouldn't meet the deacon in the narthex. Kathy took
the initiative, grasping her friend's arm, suggesting that she take Melissa
home, and put her to bed, since she looked like she was catching the flu. She
urged Jeff and the boys to go out to lunch and maybe a movie.

The boys responded eagerly, and Jeff nodded, thanking Kathy for her help,
before offering his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. Evading Fred proved almost
as easy, Kathy needed only to suggest that he come along, that he could watch
the game on the Sureham's television. Fred begged off, grumbling unintelligibly
about the crazy satellite system that Jeff had installed some time ago. He
trudged up the walk to the house, and used the keypad entry into the garage
when Kathy pulled up at their home. He had barely waved a good-bye, which
Kathy never saw, having already begun to check the mirror, prior to pulling
back out into the street. She rested a hand on her friend's thigh, meaning to
lend the smaller woman strength, though the touch was kindling in each of them
a need for more.

The deacon, who'd prompted Melissa's near panic attack, was no more relaxed at
that moment. He'd fled the dais as quickly as the opportunity arose, during
the pastor's prayer. Deacon Chauncy Graves hoped his part in the mess he'd
found himself in was done, and wondered, not for the first time, if he'd ever
really be free again. The man who'd handed him the black and white pictures of
him, not only going into the motel room, but having sex with the married white
sluts, had made it perfectly clear, that not only would his wife find out if
he didn't do exactly as he was told, but his boss, friends, and the local
police would soon know of his peculiar, proclivities. 'Not that there's
anything wrong with bedding a woman', Chauncy reminded himself.

At first he'd assumed that the guy was a panhandler, or reporter, out for the
story of his success. But upon seeing the photos, he'd guessed one of the
bitches in the images was responsible, and intended to blackmail him, it wasn't
possible to shoot such a clear picture through an open window, merely by
chance, when that window was on the twelveth floor. But suddenly unable to
dismiss the stranger, who was leaning over his seat in the corner of the deli, 
near his luxury condo, which was also near the Plaza, Chauncy had struggled to
remain calm, as he'd stuffed the photos into the envelope, praying that no one
else had seen them, and then trying to push them back to the calm stranger.

"I don't know what you think you're doing with these, but I assure you that I
don't need them. That's not me." he told the stranger.

"Don't bother denying it. I have better images, if you won't help me out. Go
ahead, and keep these. Consider them as a souvenir." the man had smiled
mirthfully at his own joke, as he sat down. "They are quite beautiful. And I
have plenty of copies of those. These are for you."

Over a lunch that Chauncy hadn't even tasted, his 'new friend' had calmly
explained their 'arrangement'. He simply wanted an introduction to the man who
'protected' the women that Chauncy had 'been with'. Which Chauncy had assumed
meant the man was competition for Tom, and his 'white housewife whores'
service. Given the seedy way in which he'd been ensnared, the man was no better
than the whores he'd used for his trap. Which also meant that the man could
easily choose to become violent, if Chauncy refused to help. That, along with
the 'business' in question, made doing what the man had asked relatively
simple, Tom was a pimp after all, a Godless man, living literally off of the
backs of helpless women. Not that he hadn't been afraid of what might happen
if Tom learned that he'd been the Judas, but the threat before him had been
much more immediate. And the answer had seemed obvious. He'd immediately agreed
to introduce the man to Tom, saying he'd tell the pimp that the stranger was
'a business friend'. The man had smiled patronizingly, shaking his head in
response. He'd explained that he was quite sure that Tom was careful, and
would check out such claims before agreeing.

Instead, the man had explained that he would be Chauncy's ever-present shadow.
The deacon was to alert him the moment that he noticed either of the women
that he'd been with, or any of the others that he remembered seeing. Over the
following two weeks, Chauncy had seen the man whenever he'd stopped to think
about whether he was alone, and risked looking around. There'd been less than
subtle calls, asking if he was really trying, suggesting that the women
wouldn't be found in the places Chauncy had been visiting. 

That had led Chauncy to wander several area malls and shopping centers where
he'd told himself that young housewives must visit. But of course he'd seen no
one who resembled the women who'd been so willing in that hotel room. Or the
string of women he'd 'sampled' before that.

He'd almost convinced himself that the man would let him off for at least
trying, when he was summoned to a meeting in the coffee shop in the building
where he worked. Over a stale Danish, and god awful coffee, Chauncy had opened
yet another envelope. This one held a blowup of one of the photos that he'd
seen before.

"What's this?" he asked in the quiet, but fierce gravel tinged voice, that
Chauncy had heard sometimes upon waking in the morning, the remnants of a
nightmare made real. Chauncy had eyed the man, uncertainly, and then the photo.

"I don't know... a necklace?" The man sighed.

"Yeah, I know it's a necklace, idiot. What is the charm?" Chauncy had shrugged,
and the man calmly withdrew a second envelope, the upper right corner covered
by a variety of stamps.

"Chauncy, Chauncy, Chauncy," he'd sighed, shaking his head. "and I thought
that you'd been trying to help me. I thought that you understood what was at
stake. Maybe you can explain these to your wife instead."

Chauncy had nearly shouted his 'No!', before controlling himself to quieter
answer, "I didn't... Wait, I mean... it was a cross, I think... yeah, a
crucifix."

The man had smiled broadly, no humor evident in his dark eyes, and without a
word, he had stood up and left the coffee shop, and the bill. The next night,
Chauncy had gotten a call from 'brother Aloysius' asking him to make the
presentation that he'd just finished, to a list of the area's suburban churches.
He hadn't remembered his fellow Christian's name from church, but had readily
agreed to the task, relishing the chance to put on his little show. So he'd
been most surprised, when he'd found his 'new friend' waiting for him, as he
left on the first of those church visits that he'd arranged for that Sunday.
He never stopped to consider that it was tied in with the whores, and he was
certain that it would be fruitless, such harlot's wouldn't be found in a church.

He also hadn't been willing to argue with the man. So he'd nearly lost his
wits, when he saw not just one of the women that he'd last 'pleasured', but
both of them, sitting together up front. They looked like any of the dozens of
God, fearing Christian women seated nearby. The thought of such blasphemy
still made his blood boil. And he'd wondered if it was all some sort of sick
test. His shadow was nodding, before Chauncy reached him at the back of the
church, after his hasty exit. Nodding and smiling. He'd waved off any
statements, until both of them were safely outside of the church.

"I saw." he said simply, after they'd reached Chauncy's car. "Now go do the
rest of the churches on the list. There really is a get together, you know,
and then go home. I think that's all we'll need from you for now."

He then turned and stepped beyond the neighboring minivan, out of sight.
Chancy shivered at the chill in the stranger's wake. He considered what the
man had just said, and wondered when, no longer if, he'd be visited next. He
cursed himself for being a fool, and drove out of the lot, insisting that he
wouldn't ever get himself into such trouble again. 

Jordan Franks had almost been too wired to do the job, as the congregation
began to spill out of the church. He'd begun snapping away, the moment his
pigeon reacted, knowing he'd found his in. He took a roll of film
surreptitiously, mostly worthless shots of the back of the women's heads, but
at least one would show a profile, he hoped.

He'd slipped out ahead of the deacon, intercepting his dash to escape in the
narthex. It paid to remind Graves that his fate was no longer his to control.
He'd almost missed the women when they left, with one of the hubby's in tow.
Jordan pulled out of a different exit, and then quickly moved in behind them,
following them at a comfortable distance, to learn where they lived. He was
delighted when he found that a single trip had revealed both of their addresses.

His initial thought, that they were going to enjoy a bit of kink with the
hubby, had proven wrong, but the way that the women moved together, left him
wondering about something else equally intimate. He parked down the street,
glad that the neighborhood was busy enough that his vehicle wouldn't stand out,
and moved confidently along the sidewalk, slipping in between the houses as
calmly as if he lived there, while hoping fervently that no one had seen him.
The last thing that a black man needed, was to be found lurking in the backyard
of a white woman. But the potential reward was worth more than the downside of
the risk. He'd come too far, to back down over a little thing like trespassing
or even peeping.

He'd been searching for a way into Tom's little kingdom for more than two years.
First using 'official channels', while meeting anything from grudging
assistance, to open resistance. It was sufficient enough to let him know that
Tom had a heavy hand in the law enforcement community, wherever he was
operating, undoubtedly to protect his enterprise. He'd then tried to muscle
those likely to have been involved in Tom's 'business' with no better success.
But instead of convincing him to give up, the seemingly endless roadblocks,
blinds, and false trails had convinced Jordan that there really was a Tom, and
a widespread prostitution ring. And as friends and colleagues had written him
off, it had become his personal quest.

No, it had started out personal. He'd lost a sister to a pimp who'd wormed his
way into her heart, hooked her on crack, and had knifed her when she tried to
leave. There was no lower form of life, in Jordan's mind, than the men who
preyed on, and profited from, prostitution. More than once the few 'in the
know' about Agent Franks, had suggested that he was chasing a ghost, and that
he should instead roll up the networks that he had proven existed in state
after state, rings of working girls that he was certain that Tom had formed,
before moving on.

But Jordan wasn't interested in busting a few dozen working girls, who'd
be out to continue 'their jobs' within hours of their arrests. He was only
interested in catching the operation's mastermind. Even when it meant ignoring
his superior's orders, and working on his own time. Especially when he had
found a path that was showing promise. Jordan had decided that his best chance
to learn anything more about Tom, was to find an in, through the 'consumer'
side, he intended to become one of Tom's clients.

It could still go wrong, if Graves ever went back to Tom, and warned his
'supplier'. But he had learned long ago, that while few men could give up
philandering, most could easily move to other, safer and newer, suppliers,
when it was necessary. They had options, denied those hooked on drugs. And
operating 'on the fringe' as he was, he had no interest in prosecuting the
cheating Deacon, and so had been free to use a little coercion of his own, to
assure that the man didn't rat him out. He was big enough and rough enough, 
that people believed it when he made a threat. So while he was certain that
Chauncy would soon enough return to seeking out 'new', even 'exotic' pussy, he
was equally sure that it wouldn't be with Tom. Just as he had been sure that
the man would've given them both away, if unintentionally, had he asked the
Deacon to 'introduce' him to the pimp. The trick was to 'get himself noticed',
as a potential customer. He intended to be obvious about eyeing the girls,
while they were out working. But he wanted a solid background on the women
first. Agent Franks was nothing, if not thorough.

Luckily for him, the house to which he'd followed the women to, had a high
fence shielding it from neighbors' prying eyes, and was old enough, that the
foliage had grown high, hiding large portions of the back of the two story
home. He was careful to be make certain that there wasn't a big dog out back,
before moving along the fence, eyeing the windows, and trying to locate the
women within. He climbed onto the trellised deck, opposite the steps, peering
cautiously into the kitchen. No one was visible. He heard water moving through
the pipes though, and returning to the ground, he circled the deck, moving
across the back of the house.

The ground sloped up at one end of the house in back, and there was a window
into the second story, which was actually at ground level there. He realized
almost too late, that it looked into the master bedroom. The women were inside,
and at the scene before him, he froze, fully silhouetted in the window, for
several seconds. He was aware of the shifting, swelling sensation between his
legs, as he crouched, moving between an overgrown hibiscus and the siding to
conceal himself.

The women were locked in a passionate embrace, each eagerly working at removing
the other's clothing. Though he'd considered the possibility of some kinky
sexual encounter occurring, the man's departure had left him expecting
something else, drugs. The scene unfolding before him though, was tacit
corroboration of Chauncy's claim. Unlimbering the camera that he had kept
tucked beneath his jacket, Jordan began to snap pictures away, as the women
continued, unaware of their observer. His mouth was incredibly dry, and he
mused to himself that there were perks to the job, after all.

Melissa groaned softly, as her friend's fingers traced a deliciously teasing
path from her left nipple, around her navel, to flick at the ring in her pussy.
Already aroused at the prospect of sharing a few private moments with her
lover, the first touch triggered a flood from her well-lubricated cunt. A
moment later, the taller woman's fingers were dipping in and out, her thumb
pressed gently, but firmly, over the inflamed blonde's swollen clit. She came
quickly and loudly, then redoubled her efforts to get Kathy out of her dress.

The brunette just smiled, kissing the other woman with a casual intimacy that
was obvious to the agent. Her mouth trailed down the petite blonde's body to
her rigid nipples, and within a moment, a second climax had visibly shivered
through her supine form. The windows in the home were old, single glazed,
allowing him to hear the sounds of the women's lovemaking. He wondered if the
neighbors heard them, when they entertained other men, then wondered if either
woman would be so foolish as to do that in their own home. He doubted it, Tom
had never been so careless, and despite expectations to the contrary, no
'free-lancing' had ever been identified from any of his women. The hope of
trapping a prostitute in that manner, and getting her to roll over on Tom had
quickly proven futile, because of that unusual dedication. It was just one of
the riddles that he hoped to solve.

The brunette resisted her lover's efforts to return her caresses, smiling and
telling the blonde that she 'owed' her for 'being there' in the last few weeks.
Getting up, she added that she had a surprise, and headed towards the walk-in
closet, opposite the door from the hall. Jordan couldn't see into the closet,
and sat there patiently, remembering the self-assurance with which the woman
had moved, uncaring that she was naked with another woman in the room. Her
apparent ease with her own sexuality, was further proof that she had more
experience than the average housewife that he had encountered. When she emerged
moments later, He was convinced that he had at last identified an 'active'
pair of Tom's 'Slut Wives'.

She had stripped completely naked, except for her high heels, donning a three
inch wide black plastic belt, from which jutted an impressive glossy black
rubber dildo. The blonde had been waiting blissfully in the bed, her eyes
closed, and at a word from the other woman, she looked up. Surprise registered
in her eyes, a first time with this toy, he guessed, but was immediately
suffused by need. He realized that he had missed whatever the brunette had
said, as the blonde bit her lower lip and nodded, raising her knees and
opening her thighs in response.

"I thought that you might like a little more masculine attention." Kathy
husked, as she stepped out of the closet, her own excitement rising as the
textured base of the strap-on dildo rubbed at her own cunt. Mel looked gorgeous
lying more than half naked on top of the covers, her skin dappled with goose
flesh, and a contented smile on her lips. She had almost mentioned to Melissa
she'd picked up the toy, on a quick stop on the way to their 'appointment' the
week before, hoping to spend some time together, and was glad as she approached
the bed, that she hadn't.

"Let's see if this can really get you off." she said, pausing dramatically a
few feet from the bed. Her need to please her lover was so unlike anything
she'd ever known with Fred, that it made it almost impossible to wait for
Melissa's languid response. She opened her eyes, as her head lifted, her gaze
dropping quickly to the latex monster jutting from Kathy's crotch.

"Do you want me to give you this baby?" Kathy cooed, already sure of the
answer, the way Melissa had already responded.

Mel nodded slightly, spreading her legs even more, inviting her lover in.
Moving carefully but quickly, Kathy knelt between the smaller woman's legs, a
finger and a thumb guiding the cock into Melissa's gold, fringed seam. As she
pushed into that treasure, the resistance was transmitted to her own aching
clit, and both women moaned in unison.

Melissa's pelvis hunched upward, hungry for more of Kathy's 'cock'. They found
a natural rhythm within moments, alternating between long slow strokes, and
short rotating thrusts. The tempo quickly built, until it was an endless
pressure against Kathy's clit, her lover's body undulating endlessly in
pleasure. She realized then, how men could be so into sex, the power that she
felt in her limited control over their pleasure, was almost as much of a rush
as her impending climax. 

As she drove fully into her lover's pussy for a final time, her body spasmed
with it's release, and at the same moment, Melissa's fingers dug into the
comforter, her throat choking off a scream of delight. Dipping her head,
Kathy's lips found Melissa's, and they cried out into one another as they came,
for what seemed like a long time, but was less than two minutes. Only when her
lover had gone completely limp, did Kathy ease the strap-on out, to roll onto
her side next to Melissa. Smiling contentedly, the blonde reached down, teasing
the phallus, as if it were real, collecting a thick string of her own honey
and lifting it to her mouth, before kissing Kathy again.

He realized that he'd be doomed if he were discovered, he was too hard to have
a chance at running away. Only the thought that he wasn't a common peeper had
kept him from unzipping and wanking at the image of the two beautiful women
fucking each other. His film was gone long before they had climaxed together,
but he had waited, unable to leave. And he knew it wasn't out of a need to
gather additional intelligence, or a concern that they might see him.
Something about the way the blonde gave herself totally to her lover's touch
resonated within him. Cursing himself for even thinking about getting
emotionally involved, he ducked under the windowsill, ready to move back to
the gate to leave the way that he had come.

"It almost makes up for what we've gotten ourselves into, doesn't it?" Kathy
said.

He froze, glad for another reason that he had stayed. He was fairly sure that
it was the brunette who'd spoken. He chanced a peek from the uncovered corner
of the window, to see that she had gotten up, and was removing the appliance,
and it's retaining belt. She was much closer to the window than she'd been
before, but was facing away from it, thankfully. 

He noticed as she bent over to step out of the assembly, the shine of a ring
in her own sex, which was further proof that the women weren't simply bisexual
housewives, he was sure from the limited material that he had accumulated,
that Tom marked all of 'his' women in a similar way. The blonde had apparently
answered, sub-vocally, as the brunette shrugged, while heading back across the
room to the bathroom door.

"I know... sick joke. I ask myself if we'd have ever started this, if we hadn't
done that. It's the one good thing to come out of it."

Even Jordan thought she sounded distracted, which the blonde pointed out.

"Something wrong Kat?"

"Hmm?... No, I just was thinking..." there was a longer pause, "I guess I was
just wondering when Fred will be back with lunch."

The blonde sat up. "Oh God! I hadn't thought..."

The brunette waved her back. "Lay down. Get some rest. That's part of why
you're here after all. I'll just tell him that I planned to change the sheets,
anyway. Who knows," she offered an unpleasant smile to the mirror, "maybe the
thought of you lying in our bed will arouse my dear old hubby enough that I
can get some satisfaction at home."

Having said that, she breezed into the bathroom. The door remained open though,
and he heard the water go on. He stayed in his place, his 'inter-personal
radar', attuned by thousands of hours interrogating, the reality PC chose to
label it 'debriefing', suspects, said that the brunette had just lied to her
lover, something else was bothering her.

The blonde had prudently covered her naked body with the covers, and rolled
onto her side. He could tell from her breathing, that she was already asleep.
He didn't expect to learn anything else, but realized that he couldn't just
walk away, he was still completely hard. Moving back behind the bushes, he
knelt and unzipped, letting the images of what he'd seen, flash through his 
mind, as he began to wank, anxious to get off and be on his way.

Unaware that she had yet again become the subject of unwanted photos, Kathy
stood beneath the steaming water, wondering what had been missing just then.
She'd cum, and it'd been delicious at the moment, but had seemed to fade the
moment that they'd finished. It wasn't like it was with Michael... And as
always, the mere thought of him brought her instantly, achingly to full arousal.
Reaching between her legs, she began to frig herself, wondering what hold he
had on her, whether or not she wanted to break it.

Checking that he hadn't soiled himself, Jordan tucked his spent cock into his
trousers, eyeing the spattering of jism on the siding. He knew it was hidden
by the bushes, and would soon dry up and blow away. He shook his head, still
seeing the women moving together in his mind. They'd been totally into it, no
acting, each giving herself to the other. He'd never seen such raw passion in
almost a decade working the sex trades for Uncle Sugar. 

The idea that Tom would whore such talent out, when he could keep it pristine,
putting it up on stage, seemed especially offensive, not in the least because
he was sure that both women were really married. But the fact that the women
were willingly giving it up, would help his conscience, as he was going to
have to bang one or both of them, in order to get close to Tom, and while the
idea of sullying their marriage was repulsive, Jordan was enough of a realist
to admit that he would enjoy it at the same time, and that he'd soon enough be
prostituting them as well, just in a different way.

He moved to the far corner of the yard and waited, listening for any sign that
someone had seen him, or would, if he stepped back out front. He took a
different route back to his car, and hid his smile, at the suspicious glance
he got from the brunette's husband, as he passed. Jordan followed at a
respectable distance, not chancing a look, as he passed the house, although he
was careful to have the black box sitting on the passenger seat on, as he did.
He pulled over in the nearest strip mall, pausing long enough to make notes of
what he had heard, before he drove back to the studio apartment that he had
rented downtown. For the first time in months, he thought that his plan might
just work.



                                Part 17



Jordan tailed the blonde the next day, parking across the street from her
school, until the morning stampede of parents eased, before driving slowly
around the building, in hopes of identifying her room, no use arousing some
hyper, vigilant parent. Fortunately the school had been built before there was
much concern about safety. One wall of her classroom was made up of windows,
making her easy to observe.

At the first recess period, he got out of the non-descript gray Crown Victoria,
pulled a painter's cap low on his brow, over dark sunglasses and a fake
mustache, and carried a load of cleaning supplies over to her windows. He set
about wiping years of accumulated grime from the frames, deftly applying tiny
receiver/transmitters to different places, on four separate panes. Satisfied
that they were not likely to arouse suspicion, he worked to the left, cleaning
the next room's windows as well, before retreating to his car. No one had
challenged him, but then, he hadn't tried to go inside, he knew schools in
America had become almost openly paranoid, after so many shootings, and the
ever present, though statistically tiny threat of a terrorist attack.

He removed his well worn work jacket and changed hats, then wandered through
the teachers' parking lot, bending down to tie his unlaced shoe, and using the
move to place a magnetic transmitter under the bumper of Melissa's car, a
second transmitter had already been left on the car outside of her home, which
her husband had taken, when he'd left for work. Jordan considered adding
another bug to the car, but reasoned that he could use the parabolic mike, if
he needed to hear her, as music tended to degrade the reception of externally
fixed units.

He found a gas station a few blocks away, glad that he didn't have to resort
to a bus bench, or phone booth, and set a dual-band slow, speed recorder atop
one of the foam ceiling tiles. Checking that it was receiving properly, he
returned to the women's neighborhood, pulling up at the other woman's home
first.

He'd used a specialized receiver the day before to record the signal that her
husband's remote had sent to the garage door opener. At the touch of a button
from a partially concealed position, down the street, he raised the garage
door. The double-wide bay was empty, but he waited. When no one appeared, and
the door didn't go down, he calmly pulled into the spacious garage, closing
the door behind him.

That lessened the threat of nosy neighbors, but put him at risk of direct
confrontation, if someone came home. Guessing that both of them worked outside
of the home, he chose the simplest way to get the equipment that he would need
into the house, with a minimum of exposure, and resolved to work fast, since
he hadn't had time to nail down their schedules. The last thing that he wanted,
was to be noticed anywhere near the house. 

Before exiting the car, he donned latex gloves. He selected a few of the tools
lying on workbench in the garage, no use risking leaving his own, and retrieved
the brightly colored toolbox in the backseat of his car. First out of the box
was an automated lock pick but it proved unnecessary, as the door was unlocked.
An alarm began to chirp, but he had already noted the alarm company prominently
displayed in the front window, and after a peek at the maker of the specific
unit, he quickly entered the master code. He smiled in the resulting silence.
Most suburban alarms were easily circumvented. Even better, the alarm had an
'easy activate' feature, so that no would ever know the alarm had been shut
off.

Taking only a few moments to familiarize himself with the basic floor plan, he
quickly went to work. He used a series of single use foam molds, to copy the
key patterns for the locks. He installed tiny bugs in each of the phones, as
well as 'free standing' bugs tucked into a planter in the kitchen, and behind
the television in the master bedroom armoire. He spent a few minutes in a
limited search for information.

By the time that he left, some fifty minutes later, he knew not only Kathy's
full name, as well as her's and Fred's personal and employment information,
and had also the blonde woman's name, address and phone number. He also had
Polaroid proof, that Kathy's husband was sleeping around. It'd been carefully
hidden, but not so much so that his cursory search hadn't uncovered it, he
guessed that a suspicious wife would've found it more easily, and wondered if
that had led the housewife to cuckold her hubby so prodigiously.

Tabling such suppositions, he backed out of the garage as if he lived there,
and making sure that the door closed, drove around the corner, before pulling
to the curb, in order to test his equipment. The next hour was spent
'surveying' the blonde's home in a similar manner. Though in that case, he was
more confident that he wouldn't be interrupted, and took the time to add a
tiny video camera button in the bedroom, with a view into the bathroom as well.
The tiny fisheyed lens had remarkable depth and clarity, but would never be
noticed. He wasted no time, aware that a child, or either parent might come
home for lunch. It took just over an hour to finish in the second home.

Satisfied that everything was working, he drove past the law offices where
Kathy Dwyer worked, using binoculars to examine the building from a safe
distance. Mercifully, few of the windows were mirrored, but there was no sign
of the woman he'd seen in the church. He hadn't expected to see her, as
secretaries seldom enjoyed a room with a view.

Instead, Jordan pulled into the parking lot's 'delivery' space. He ducked into
the trunk, adding a fake goatee to his mustache, a jagged, vivid pink scar
tracing down from his right ear under his collar, and a different pair of
regular glasses. A gaudy earring replaced the stud that he traditionally wore,
completing his transformation. Capping his shaved head with a hat, that was
fringed with fake dreadlocks, and a matching jacket, with the name 'Norm'
stenciled over the pocket, he grabbed the vase of Amaryllis and the delicately
calligrapher card that he'd prepared earlier, and calmly went inside, asking
at the guard's station for directions to 'Ms. Kathy Dwyer'. The guard glanced
at the card without any real interest, but then he had little reason to worry.
He knew that he'd walked through a concealed metal detector, as he entered
the building.

The elevator rose two floors to the appropriate lawyers' offices, and
consciously moving differently than he did as 'himself', he shambled down the
hall, stopping to stare dumbly at the sign on the corner nearest Kathy's desk
until she noticed. Hurrying over to see if she could help, she paled when he
mumbled that he had flowers for Kathy Dwyer. When she asked who'd sent them,
he executed a carefully practiced shoulder shrug, before he checked the slip
of paper on the clipboard that he held in one hand.

"Dunno. it says 'name withheld' on the order form." he checked the sham paper
again. "They, uh, paid in cash. There's a note, though." The woman's hand
shook visibly she reached for the note.

"I need you to sign first, if you're Ms. Dwyer."

"Mrs." she sniffed, searching her desk for a pen. Jordan pulled his 'company
logo' pen out of his pocket, smiling when she turned back without having found
one.

It was the typical pseudo, nice 'dealer pen' that drug reps and other sales
agents provided, with an imaginary florist shop's name and address, but a real
dead drop phone number on the casing. And a working microphone inside.

"Here." he said. "Compliments of Midwest Floral."

She took it absently, scribbling illegibly where he indicated, then almost
tearing at the card rather than reaching for the vase.

"I can set it down for you." he mumbled, setting it out of the way on her
desk, and surreptitiously dropping a 'back, up' mike into the planter beside
the desk as he did so. The mike had an adhesive back, but he had seen them
fall off when stuck under a desks before.

He left, pretending not to notice how agitated the woman was. He'd simply
written 'Hope to see you again soon', on the card, assuming that she worked a
list of 'regulars' for Tom. He wondered if the reaction was fear or arousal,
finding the thought that she could like a John over her man disquieting, but
not impossible, given what he'd found and seen in her home.

Safely back in his vehicle, he pulled out of the lot, no use risking whatever
additional surveillance he hadn't seen, before pausing by the curb a block
away, to remove the disguise and check the reception on the mikes, both seemed
to be working fine. He heavily taped another slow speed recording receiver to
the bottom of a dumpster in a neighboring strip mall, not trusting a magnetic
base, for fear of it damaging the tape. Satisfied that it was hidden, and
would remain so, he considered making his next call to the hapless Deacon, but
changed his mind, no use worrying the man so much, that he sought another
escape.

Instead, he drove back toward the school, filling up at the gas station and
taking a moment in the bathroom to switch tapes. That would be the most
troublesome part of the surveillance, and he wished he had the toys the
Fed-backed sting operatives did. They could afford more flexible, powerful,
and expensive equipment, collecting all sources of output in one site digitally,
rather than trusting the time-limited, trouble prone recorders.

He smiled though, the Fed's transmitters were a guaranteed give-away, if you
had a 'bug detector'. Which he did, and which he suspected his adversary did
as well. He reasoned that even though his bugs were susceptible to such
searches, it was unlikely that Tom would think to check the women's homes.
There were definite advantages to indirect surveillance.

He eased past the school. The kids were out on the playground again, and he
was pleased when he found a clear view of the teacher's lounge. The room was
like the adjacent classrooms, but had portable cubicle walls partitioning a
kitchenette with a refrigerator and microwave in one corner, several mismatched
chairs, and a pair of threadbare couches in the middle of the room. At first,
he didn't see the blonde. Then after a moment, he realized that she was
outside, watching the children. He pulled away from the curb and continued
past the school, turning away from the playground, before he stopped again,
aiming the parabolic mike through the open passenger window at the woman, and
using a clamp, to keep it near the side view mirror, where it would not be
easily seen. Her head was tipped at an angle, and after just a second, it was
obvious why, she was on a cell phone. He quickly guessed to whom she was
talking.

"... I'm serious! I can't go on like this, he'll find out if I do... No, he'll
find out... So it doesn't matter what you... No, I don't think it would matter
if it was one or a dozen. If he finds out, he'll leave me... I'm not
threatening you... No, I didn't mean... No... You can't!.. I never said that...
No, I'll do the rest, I've counted fifty-two so far, and... What!?" the
children glanced at her, but she was oblivious. Shrugging at one another, they
went back to their games. She'd sagged visibly against the wall of the school.

"That's not... It's not fair! I've done at least fifty-two jobs for you, I...
No, that's every one of them... No! You never said that! I... but I... no, I...
but she... we didn't..."

After a long moment, she took a ragged breath, audible even at a distance. Her
voice sounded lost, when she spoke again, and she was barely whispering.

"No, don't send him that package. I'm not arguing with you... You're right, I
just hadn't thought about sharing anything... And I'll do what you say... yes
... Yes, I owe you." there was a pause, as she bit her lip. "But I can't keep
doing it here, he'll find out. When this started you said... I know... OK...
yes, I agree... I do... all right... I'm sorry about what I said... Yes, I'm
ready to work again... But!.. all right, I'll be there tomorrow."

She hung up, eyed the children that were swirling across the dirt and asphalt
momentarily, as if not really seeing them, then focused and determined the
location of the other teacher, before keying her cell phone. He smiled to
himself, if she was going to tell her friend what she'd learned, he'd learn
too, letting him reconstruct the conversation from the separate halves later.
His new approach was already paying off.

"Kathy Dwyer, please." the blonde tossed her hair angrily, and turned away
from her fellow recess monitor, to pull a decorative flask from her pocket,
tipping it slightly, but leaving it in place for several seconds, before
tucking it quickly back into her coat. "No, I'm sure she's somewhere, please
find her!" Her voice snapped, releasing some of the tension that she'd
obviously repressed, while talking to her pimp. Franks wondered how the man
managed that from a distance.

"Kat?" The relief in Melissa's voice was evident, even through the long
distance pick-up. "God, it's so good to hear your voice, you won't believe
what I just... You're kidding! From who?.. You think?.. Are you going to tell
Tom?.. What'll you say to Fred?.. Oh, I guess that'd work, I'll say that if he
asks, sure..." she paused, tangling a lock of blonde hair with her free hand.
"I called him... I know, but I couldn't wait... No, I used my new cell phone.
Didn't I tell you about it? I got it last weekend, after we... after we were
done... Yeah... But I paid cash, the phone was free, and I can recharge it
with more time anytime I want. In fact, if you want, we can add a second phone
to the account for you, and talking back and forth is free!.. OK... Yeah, I
talked to the bastard. I hope you're sitting down."

"I told him that I couldn't keep doing all these guys downtown, that I'd seen
some of them while I was out with my husband. He assured me that they wouldn't
say a thing, and when I argued that they already had, he asked if I meant that
Jeff had figured out I was a whore. So then I got mad and told him he hadn't,
and admitted that he isn't suspicious, yet... And then he got mad, threatening
to 'fine' me for wasting his time. I tried to explain that I needed to be more
careful, and he got irate, asking if I was threatening him, telling me he'd be
glad to send a package to Jeff to show him just what sort of a whore I really
was. And then,"

She paused, fighting for a breath. "I mentioned that I'd already done more
than fifty 'jobs' and he laughed, asking where I'd gotten that number from, and
telling me that I'd just finished my thirty-second with you this weekend... I
know, that's what I said. But we were counting the guys we 'share'. He says
that if two women are working, and there are ten men there, you get credit for
five... I know! That's what I said. He just laughed and told me that I could
complain to the better business bureau, if I wanted to be sure that Jeff would
find out everything... I know... It'll be like two or three years... Yeah, I
know... I Know! God, don't you think that I realized that? So I backed off, I
even agreed to work tomorrow, and right here again, in downtown. So you'll
probably get a call... Thursday or Friday, too, I'd bet, but he didn't say
that now... Yeah, OK, but not tonight, the kids'll be home, and if we're going
to be out twice later in the week... Yeah, and I'm sorry about the news... I
will... Love you too."

For a moment, the words threw him, and then he remembered again seeing the
two women together the day before, there was more to their relationship than a
shared joy of sex. Clicking the recorder off, he pulled away, confident that
it was time to call the Deacon, the man didn't know it yet, but his sins had
earned him another taste of the women in Tom's stable. Then he would be free...
unless Jordan needed him for something else.

Tuesday passed as a blur for both women. Each had addressed the amorous needs
of their husbands the night before, Kathy with the detachment that she'd
developed over the years of her marriage, while Melissa did so tipsy, so that
after Jeff had finished, and dropped off to sleep, she barely remembered the
session, and lay awake for some time wondering if she'd said or done anything
that he would ask about later.

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to the last time she'd cum with her husband. To
her horror, she couldn't remember, the only recent orgasm that she was sure
that she'd experienced, apart from the time with Kathy, was with Tom on
Saturday. Curling into a fetal position, she shuddered, wondering if they'd
already gone too far for anything to ever be the same ever again, and trying
to understand how or why her husband didn't, (or couldn't?), arouse her, when
her pimp could. Unconsciously fingering her belatedly excited cunt, she
slipped into a restless sleep.

She spent the following day trying to hide the frequent hits on her flask,
which to her irritation seemed to be empty sooner every day. Kathy, meanwhile,
fended off the unwanted advances of no fewer than four lecherous lawyers, and
legal assistants, a part of her laughing inside, and asking why she didn't
just let them 'entertain' her for a lunch hour. Most of the other girls had,
and were doing better because of it. It wasn't as if she was protecting her
honor. Even as she thought about what she might gain though, she knew that she
wouldn't do anything, as none of the men was Mike. And whenever she thought
about that, about him, her eyes wandered to the flowers, and hoped that he
had sent them. That, in turn, made her feel guilty, when she thought about the
way she'd urged Melissa not to argue with Tom, to do whatever he said. Somehow,
she'd developed a real need to have Michael's cock, and as a woman who'd prided
herself for years on not needing anything from any man, the change in attitude
would've frightened her, if she'd really been aware of it. Instead, it felt
almost natural, that the memory of Michael inside of her, kept her semi-aroused
throughout the day.

The women had agreed that it would be best to use separate excuses for their
'work' that night, as their husbands had begun to grumble about the time they
were spending together. Melissa called Jeff at the office, and claimed that
she needed to grade some papers and host a late parent-teacher conference, a
ruse to keep her husband from 'dropping in' on her.

Kathy told Fred she'd been called to stay late, as some of the partners were
preparing a big case. That met with the usual grunt, he'd be home tearing into
his students' latest papers, until precisely 9:30 PM, at which point he'd go
to sleep, never sure when, or if, Kathy got home.

Melissa picked Kathy up, leaving the brunette's car in the law office's garage.
They drove to the run-down apartment complex, neither giving it a thought to
the familiarity with which the guard, and some of the real tenants nodded at
them, as they headed into the elevator and to room 413 to get ready. Neither
knew what the job would be, or whether they'd be doing it alone or together,
or as part of a group, and they didn't really care. It was a chance to whittle
away at the daunting number that each had learned still remained to their
'debt'. They no longer needed to look at the notes taped to the mirrors,
reminding Tom's 'girls' that they weren't to overdo their make-up, weren't to
be too slutty in their dress, they were 'white whore housewives', after all.
Melissa unconsciously added some eye shadow, and reapplied her mascara, then
added the lipstick, which she never wore at work. Satisfied, she selected a
leather miniskirt, and a baby blue button down front top, as well as black
high heels, forgoing stockings or hose as usual. She also ignored the lacy
panties, which matched the demi-cup bra, that was partially visible through
the shirt.

Opening the drawer at her spot in the vanity, which occupied one wall of the
main room, she uncapped the Astroglide lubricant tube that she'd brought in
the weekend before, inserting the plastic tip between her labia, and squeezing
a generous portion of the glycerin jelly into her pussy. A second squirt lubed
her ass hole, after which she reached into her shirt, and applied Vaseline to
her nipples, a trick one of the 'long time' girls had shown her.

Trying to fight back a case of the shakes, as she considered that she'd one
day be considered a 'long time girl' by the newer ones, Melissa tore her eyes
away from Kathy's similar preparations, nearly dashing into the bathroom with
her purse. She emptied her twice refilled flask, before exiting, to lock the
purse in her cubby, unwilling to look at herself in the mirror, as she
struggled to maintain some semblance of control. She heard the apartment door
open, and Tom's low voice filled the room.

"Good evening, my ladies! I'm glad to see everyone here on time. Where's
Melissa?"

Biting her lip, she closed her cupboard door. Tom smiled broadly, possessively,
at her. "Ahh, there you are. I knew you wouldn't give me any trouble tonight.
Did I understand that you want to work alone?" Melissa bit her cheek, she'd
hoped to work with Kathy, or at least one of the other girls, but that would
mean 'sharing'. If she were going to get out of this any sooner, she'd have to
trust that Tom screened his customers. She nodded, and his smile widened.

"Great. I have a trio of Shriners, who insisted they wanted a 'housewife to
humble'. You'll fit the bill perfectly, I'm sure."

Melissa nodded, hating that she felt grateful Tom had supplied her to out of
towners. Maybe even white out of towners, so she wouldn't be so sore after
taking three on. She returned to the place at the mirror, where she'd gotten
ready, retrieving a handful of condoms from the drawer. Kathy was paired up
with a redhead that Melissa hadn't seen before, but who seemed used to what
was happening.

The other women were working as a tandem, and a trio, serving like numbers,
and another gal was working a single 'regular', as Tom called the locals who
were steady clients. Tom began passing out the envelopes with the room keys,
cab fare if it was necessary, customers' names, and occasionally a note about
what they wanted or expected. The women removed the money and keys, and read
through the other information, though none of the paper left the room. Melissa
felt a pang of uncertainty, when he didn't have an envelope for her.

He smiled broadly and said, "They don't want you to know their names." He dug
a key out of his pocket, handing it to her, "They're in the hotel down the
block so you can walk."

More humiliation, she realized. The key Kathy held was from the same hotel,
but Tom was apparently going to drive the others over. She would have to get
there like any other street walking whore.

"When you arrive, have the desk page 'Stan Straight', and wait at the end of
the bar nearest the desk. He'll pick you up and take you to the room."

She nodded, avoiding looking at Kathy, or the other women, as she tucked her
things into her 'party bag', and joined the group of dressed to kill women at
the door. There was another tenant on the elevator as they went down, and
while he blinked and smiled politely enough, Melissa could feel his eyes
wandering over the assembled flesh, knowing what they were going out to do.

She stopped to catch her breath, as the others headed for the garage or front
door, wishing that she'd brought more to drink. She reminded herself that she
was to wait at the bar, and that provided enough comfort, that she set out,
ignoring the looks and occasional remarks of those she passed on the way. 

Jordan was sitting in the bar at the downtown Residence Inn, when he saw Kathy
enter with another woman, not the blonde, Melissa. They headed to the elevators
with an obvious sense of purpose, moving as if they'd done it many times
before. He let his eyes follow them openly, appreciatively, hoping someone
would notice. A moment later, another obvious call girl entered at the front,
and he guessed she was his pigeon's entertainment for the night. He had hoped,
when he told Chauncy to make an appointment, that more women would be working
at the same hotel. More specifically, that the women he'd identified would be
there to party with Chauncy.

He hadn't seen anyone twig to his 'I want that' look at the brunette though,
and had about decided that Melissa was 'involved' elsewhere, when she walked
in through the main revolving doors. It took a double take to realize that it
was her, the blonde hair was teased in a sluttish manner, and she wore much
heavier make-up, than he'd seen on her at church or school, but still less
than you'd usually see on a hooker. The clothes too, were too revealing to be
her usual attire.

He smiled, wondering how the school board would react to her 'after hours' job,
and again let an appreciative glance follow her, as she headed to the desk.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his drink, downing fully
half of it at once, and then looking back. She was almost up to him, entering
the bar, where she took a seat three stools away. Taking a chance, he signaled
the bartender, telling him to 'fix the lady up'. The barkeep eyed him hard,
but shrugged and moved to ask what she wanted, jerking a thumb toward Franks.
The blonde looked startled, her eyes still nervous, as she looked toward him,
her mouth frowning prettily. She shook her head, and the barkeep returned.

"Sorry, buddy. Says she doesn't want anything from you."

Jordan snorted audibly. "Hell, give her a 7 and 7, then. If she drinks it,
great. If not, so what? But I think she could use some company tonight. I sure
could."

He'd spoken loudly enough that she could hear it, and he saw her back stiffen,
but she made no other response. Shaking his head, the barkeep mixed the drink
and set it in front of her. After a beat, she glanced at it, and a few moments
later picked it up and took a healthy swallow. Jordan leaned over towards her.

"Now does that earn me a name?"

She blinked, eyeing him with some anxiety. "And you are?"

"Jim Franks!" he enthused, holding out a hand that she ignored. "I just couldn't
leave a pretty lady like you alone in a place like this. It isn't right."

"I'm not alone," she replied. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh," he let his face fall, then brightened after a moment. "Well if that
someone doesn't show up, maybe you'd let me fill in."

Her eyes blazed, and for a moment, he thought that she might slap him. Instead,
she turned to the drink, emptying it without a pause. He motioned to the
barkeep, who quickly provided a second.

"I don't think so." she said after a minute.

"Well let me call your secretary and we'll hook up another day." he was
winging it, hoping that the man was watching from somewhere. "I'm here the
rest of the week, so you can always come back for a couple more of those." he
said, nodding at the glass, already half-empty in her hand.

At just that moment, an overweight, middle-aged man glanced into the room. His
eyes lingered on the blonde at the end of the bar, a smile playing at his lips.
He stepped forward with unaccustomed cockiness, and draped an arm around the
petite blonde.

"You rang for a Mr. Straight?"

The woman, who had leaned forward, as if to escape the embrace, sat up, and
her head swivelled to look at him. "You're Mr. Straight?"

"My friends and I." the man offering that half smile again. "Why don't you
come up to meet them?"

She nodded, draining the glass, before standing up to go with him. Jordan
watched in overt amazement, then sighed, and signaled the bartender for
another martini.

"Damn." he sighed. "That's too fine a piece of ass to waste on a Shriner." The
barkeep shrugged a non-committal response, moving down the bar to other patrons.

"I wish I could find me some of that." he murmured to himself, as he stood up
to leave, throwing a generous tip onto the bar. He didn't want to be too
obvious, though the guy hadn't looked like he could buy a date if the woman
saw him ahead of time.

"Well, I may be able to help with that." The voice was higher pitched than
he had expected, and when he turned, he found himself staring at a man who
didn't fit the physical description that he had of Tom.

"Really?" he managed. "You're not serious."

"Oh, I assure you that I am," the man smiled, reminding Jordan of a shark. "I
can hook you up with the most amazing women. Imagine balling a nympho so hot,
that she has to cheat on her husband to get enough."

"Right. But not that little hottie." Jordan countered. 

"My man, you have GOT to let me surprise you." the man smiled. "I'm Mike.
Pleased to meet you?"

"No. it sounds like I'm gonna be pleased to have met you." Jordan smiled. "I'm
Jordan James."

If it hadn't been for the fact that she was beyond tipsy, Melissa would've
been scared. 'Mr. Straight' had been a perfect gentleman, until he'd closed
the door to the suite where she was supposed to 'entertain' her Johns. Almost
immediately, three other men, not three in total, as Tom had told her, slipped
out of the shadows, picking her up, and moving her bodily into the living room.
They didn't move through to the bedroom, but turned her onto her stomach,
facing backwards over a deep plush chair. Before she was really aware of what
was happening, they'd handcuffed her hands to the legs of the chair, leaving
her dressed, but exposed from the waist down, and open to their advances. She
managed to remind them they had to use the condoms that she'd brought, and
relaxed as she saw them tearing the packages open. No one bothered with any
foreplay. One minute later, they were stripping down and donning their
'raincoats'. In the next minute, they were taking turns spanking her, and
thrusting into her exposed ass or pussy. She struggled to find a rhythm, to go
with what they were doing, but as soon as she'd begin to accommodate whatever
organ was impaling her, the man using her body would stop, letting another one
try something else. The situation was maddening, and made more so by their
refusal to talk or answer her questions. She was grateful to the man who'd
bought her the drinks, if they weren't going to give her any pleasure, at
least the buzz she'd gotten was letting her go along for the ride. And the
ride seemed endless.

For awhile she tried to count, but quickly lost any coherent idea as to who it
was moving behind her, or moving inside of her. She expected them to come
around and have her suck them off, but they didn't, simply impaling her
increasingly aching crotch with maddeningly incomplete strokes. She asked
herself if Tom had somehow arranged for her to be punished. She tried to see
her watch, unsure of how long they'd been using her, but couldn't turn her
wrist sufficiently.

She tried to tune out, and managed for awhile, before a new sound intruded,
they had some sports show on the television, on the other side of the room,
and for a time, no one was using her, as everyone watched whatever was on. She
then endured an odd intermittent fucking, as one or another passed her on
their way to the bathroom or the kitchen, seeming to take her on a whim. She
was soon trembling with embarrassment, having realized that she was being
treated no differently than the furniture. But she also refused to let them
see how humiliated that she felt. She stopped trying to communicate with them,
and said nothing. If the Shriners chose not to ball her as hard and as fast
and long as they could, so be it. After three hours, Tom would retrieve her
whether they were done or not. Which meant that when they did resume screwing
her in earnest, a short time later, she'd nearly convinced herself that she
wouldn't be so totally degraded, as to be used for their ultimate sexual
release.

As each man thrust into her in turn, until they'd all filled their condoms,
as tears rolled down her face. And while their laughter at that was all the
more humiliating, she managed not to speak. It was only when the man who'd
picked her up, began to empty his spent condom into her hair, that she shouted
at them. Or tried to, as the moment that she opened her mouth, someone clapped
a gag into her mouth. Totally broken, she lay half upside down in the chair,
as they laughed at their 'superiority' and smeared their jism into her hair
and skin, asking if she understood her position in the world. She was there to
be used, however and whenever they, or any other man, wanted.

Someone laughed that if she was so upset she could pretty herself up in the
bathroom, but warned her that they'd just have to 'enjoy themselves' with her
again when she was done. Melissa vowed at that moment she wasn't about to
strip and shower in the suite, whenever they chose to finally release her. No
matter how bad she looked, she didn't want to spend anymore time with these
women hating ass holes, than Tom demanded. Even though it would mean more
humiliation on the walk back to the apartment to clean up, it was preferable
to submitting to them any further. She shuddered at the knowledge that it
would be obvious to anyone who saw her, what she was.

At the same time, Kathy was trying to move the right way, and say the right
things, as the John that she'd met grunted and thrust over her. Better
equipped than she'd expected, given his gross obesity, she'd nevertheless been
unable to get aroused enough to get off, and his stamina had begun to wear at
the lubricant lining her sex. She grimaced, as his cock head bluntly hammered
her cervix again, she was sure that it was bruised, and wanted him to stop,
but knew that wasn't an option. 

For a time, she'd lost herself, imaging that it was Michael thrusting into her,
and doing that, she'd managed to get excited enough for her partner to lose
one load. But he also managed to stay hard, and she was beginning to wonder if
he'd ever fire again. She envied the redhead, who'd managed to score an oral
climax and was already finished getting the other guy off a second time,
leaving her time to primp and clean up, while Kathy tried to 'finish the job'.

She manufactured a groan, pumping her hips up to meet the man's thrusts, and
closing her eyes, fervently wishing that it were Michael filling her cunt. She
felt a twinge at that, and struggled not to lose it, managing a spark of
arousal, that in turn seemed to flow into the guy banging her. He stiffened,
grunting more loudly for a moment, and then pulling out a moment later. With
an urgency borne of experience, Kathy caught the base of his shaft, holding
the condom in place, until he was out of her, then checking to be sure that it
hadn't torn. She relaxed then, glad that it looked like neither of their
'customers' would be able to go again, and wondering if she'd see Michael when
they got back.

Two floors above, Melissa had been unceremoniously rolled onto the carpet,
where one after another of her 'customers' was taking a second more intimate
turn fucking into her, until they came. Each one of them straddled her, making
her apply the condom with her mouth, before thrusting into her hard and fast
until they were done. No attempt was made to get her excited, she was merely a
living fuck doll. She responded by lying beneath them unmoving, anxious for it
to be over with, fighting not to grimace at the occasional tweak of a cock
sliding against the ring in her barely lubricated labia. When the gag was
removed, she forced herself to remain silent, but her mouth was free for just
a moment, before the first of the men to take her for a second time, slapped
his bare cock against her mouth, shouting.

"Clean me up, whore. You made this mess!"

She turned her head, not wanting to accept the uncovered shaft, but at a sharp
pain as someone tweaked the ring in her nipple, her mouth yawned wide, and
then he was inside of her mouth. Soft and wet, cum still leaking from the tip,
the taste of latex still present on his skin. She managed not to gag, praying
it would end then. It did, almost.

When they'd all finished using her, they stood over her, upending the condoms
that they'd saved. Her dress, which had been pushed up to her waist, and her
bare chest and abdomen were quickly smeared with their mingled jism. Then they
trooped over to the couch in front of the television, she'd been nothing but
an evening's 'entertainment'.

Wiping feebly at the cum staining her skirt, Melissa buttoned her shirt,
dismayed to find several buttons were gone. The cum in her hair was drying,
leaving matted tangles that she didn't want to see. Scooping up the tiny purse
and her heels, she paused, realizing they'd left the mini-bar open. Without a
glance over her shoulder she reached in, blindly filling one hand with the
small bottles, before she stepped shakily from the suite. She was desperately
glad that there was no one in the hall. Her crotch was sore from the relentless
screwing, and she winced at the thought that Tom might want her back in the
apartment, in less than twenty-four hours. She eyed the elevator, then
remembered the spacious, well-lit foyer in the hotel's lobby. She turned
instead to the stairwell, at the opposite end of the hall, pausing at the
window to look out.

'Her' apartment was at the opposite end. Cursing her continued bad luck, she
almost ran back to the other end of the 'wing' of rooms, entering that
stairwell and descending past four or five turns blindly, before she sat down
on the bare concrete steps, glad for the cool air that reached her parted
thighs, as she opened the first of the bottles in her hand. Gin, but she
swallowed it like water, pausing only long enough to open the second bottle,
tequila.

She sat for a moment, savoring the warmth in her belly, the first pleasant
thing that she'd felt since they'd thrown her over the chair, like a side of
beef. She stood up again on shaking legs, suddenly aware that she needed to
pee. She giggled at the thought she could leave a trail on the steps without
pausing and no one would know. But she didn't.

Gripping the handrail for support, she slowly went down the steps to the main
level, then continued to the basement garage entrance another level down.
Opening the door, she was thankful for the darkness, the opposite of how she'd
normally feel, even in much safer areas of the city.

Seeing no one, she stepped out, letting the door close quietly behind her. It
clicked loudly, and she tested it, finding it locked. Staying along the white
painted cinder block wall, Melissa moved around the fronts of cars, heading
for a door at the corner of the street, where she'd passed what seemed like
hours before. She reached the door unchallenged, and throwing her head back,
she opened the door, hoping the darker side of the street, away from the
overhead lights on the far side, would hide her grotesque appearance. She'd
stepped fully into the night air when she realized someone was beside the door.
She turned, a scream in her throat. But it was Tom.

"You're not tryin' to sneak out are you?"

"I..." Melissa bit back the anger that she knew could get her into more trouble,
and tilted her head down, hoping he didn't notice the booze on her breath. She
shook her head vigorously.

"I'm not. They'd finished. They just untied me."

She didn't bother to see how he reacted to that. "I'm a mess. They weren't
interested in any pleasure, just humiliating me."

Tom nodded knowingly, confirming what Melissa had suspected, it was a
punishment of sorts. "and it was four men. Not three." His eyebrows rose at
that, and Melissa felt a strange delight, knowing that he was angry at someone
else over their treatment of her.

"You're sure?" his voice had dropped, becoming menacing.

"I'm a whore, I'm not stupid," she answered, then reeled off the four names
she'd heard. He reached out, a big hand closing gently on her shoulder.

"And am I right that you've learned your lesson?" She nodded, biting her lip.

"What's that?"

"I learned my lesson," she whispered.

"What lesson?" Melissa bit back her anger.

"That you're the one who says who does what, to who, when, and where. Or
doesn't. That I don't threaten you. That I don't call you a liar."

He nodded. "Pretty good learning. only took one harsh trick. Just remember
that the next time you want to give me any lip."

Melissa nodded, letting him lead her back to the apartment complex.

"I thought you might try to slip back without being seen in there." she could
see him smile, even in the near total darkness. "It's good that you have a
sense of pride, even in doing this kind work. But be careful that you don't
get in trouble because of that. Imagine if that wasn't me back there." she
nodded meekly. "Then let's get you back home and cleaned up before the other
girls see this mess."

Without another word, he led her to the back of the apartment building,
producing a key that let them into the locked steel, reinforced back door. 
Instead of heading upstairs though, Tom opened a second similarly braced door
just inside, and guided her down a flight of narrow steps into total blackness.
When he flipped a switch, that she hadn't seen in passing at the bottom, the
sudden light made her cry out, and shield her eyes.

"This here's where I started having the girls get ready. Now it's mostly
storage." She noticed that there were several empty boxes, and rolls of packing
tape atop others that were sealed shut.

"Are we moving?" she asked without thinking.

Tom chuckled. "Naw, I just got to get some of this to a safer place. Now go
around the corner. There's a shower there. Who knows, maybe I'll join you in a
minute. Melissa nodded, not trusting herself to look in his eyes, afraid that
he might do as he'd said, and more afraid that despite being sore, the thought
had begun to arouse some part of her.

She hurried into the bathroom, relieved to find a half empty bottle of the
blue Listerine. Remembering the cum she'd swallowed, and anxious to mask the
booze, she took a healthy swallow, choking loudly before gargling with a
second large mouthful. She turned on the shower, to see Tom standing in the
doorway. His eyes were unabashedly at her waist.

"Damn." he shook his head.

"They messed you up pretty good for white boys." She nodded, wondering if he'd
have mercy and not ball her. "But it looks like they left your ass pretty much
alone."

She considered that was true, a couple of them had plowed her bottom early on,
but they'd pretty much stuck to trying to ruin her pussy, so that she wouldn't
experiencing pleasure anytime soon after that. She bit her lip, unsure as to
whether she could comfortably take her pimp in her ass, without some vaginal
stimulation first. The thought of some mutually pleasurable sex was undeniably
exciting, though. Tom moved into the small bathroom, but turned at the vanity,
opening a drawer.

"Here, be sure to put some of this on your box. It's got Aloe and DMSO. That's
the stuff they use on horses, that athletes aren't supposed to use, but it
works. And since you're a sexual athlete, I guess. You'll be ready to ride in
no time at all, I promise."

She nodded, taking the tube that he'd offered her.

He smiled broadly and said, "Tell you what. My new partner will be bringing
the others back, so lets get into the shower, and I'll help you put it on."

Melissa nodded again, aware of the growing buzz in her clit, and wishing that
she could blame the cold air for her suddenly rigid nipples. By the time that
Tom was naked, she knew that she was visibly excited, and had gently tweaked
her swollen bud several times, finding her 'customers' hadn't been sufficiently
thorough, to truly ruin her.

She grasped Tom's thick bicep and stepped back into the shower, bringing him
along with her. His hands caressed her flesh, which tingled at his touch, and
the spray of steaming water. After a moment, he paused to help her clean her
hair and body, ridding the last vestiges of the other men's cum from her skin.
Then he bent his head down, lifting first one, and then her other breast to
his lips, kissing and sucking on her nipples, until she was moaning constantly,
rubbing her sore pussy against his muscular thigh. His fingers knowingly
worked her throbbing clit, until she was on the edge of an orgasm, and then he
flexed his knees. She didn't hesitate, she had to feel him inside of her.

Reaching down, she held his swollen rigid cock in one hand, while spreading
the deep pink lips of her sex, bringing him up against her, and into her. He
held perfectly still, balancing against the side of the stall, and supporting
her weight, as she lowered herself onto his wonderful cock. But while it felt
as incredible as the memories that she tried to repress had insisted he was,
there was also pain, and when she winced, Tom quickly lifted her off of his
tool.

"Shhh." he soothed. "It's OK. There'll be time for that later. You'll be fine."

Turning her away from the hot spray, he opened the bottle, working the oily
lotion into her sex. It hurt, but was quickly followed by a penetrating warmth,
and Melissa didn't complain. There was a seat in the stall, that he lowered
her onto, before standing before her. The message was clear. Leaning forward,
she welcomed his cock into her throat, reveling in the pleasure that gave her,
compared to what had happened earlier in the evening. It was proof enough that
she wasn't just meat. Her head bobbed with increasing speed, as she sucked at
him strongly, wanting to taste him again.

He stopped her though, smiling down at the hurt in her eyes as she looked up.
"Oh no. I know you want it, but tonight I want that delicious ass."

Melissa smiled in response, some part of her was ignoring the reason and logic,
as if he never said such things to the other women. She rose and turned,
bending at the waist, bracing her arms against the fixed seat. His hands
caressed her waist, one held her in place, as the other opened a bottle. She
relaxed further, glad that he was taking time for more lubricant, despite her
ample experience by then, not to mention her continued arousal.

As he worked a thumb into her ass, the same warmth bloomed, and she guessed
that he had used the same lotion. While that was sinking into her mind, his
big cock pushed slightly into her ass. She bit her lip at the momentary pain,
but then it was past, and the sensation of his shaft filling her totally, was
nearly enough to get her off.

She reached down, tweaking her clit a single time, in order to climax, as he
began to thrust in and out of her butt. She'd done her oral work well, or Tom
wasn't trying to prolong it, in less than a minute, he'd spumed, pumping a
load into her medicated ass. When he pulled out, she quickly turned, and used
her hands, hair, and mouth to clean his cock.

He stepped out of the shower, nodding his satisfaction with her behavior. He
knew that Michael was right about several things, even if he did have
reservations about the drugs. Chief among the rules that he had always
followed, was to show a girl who'd done bad, but learned her lesson that he
could be a lover, as well as the punishing father.

And while there were always women that he wished that he could bring along,
when relocating, Melissa was quickly proving herself to be one of the rare,
truly exceptional girls. The Johns raved about her, the other girls had no
complaints about her, and while he wouldn't admit it to her, the fire she'd
shown, a drive that he knew that she still had to suppress, was attractive.

He hoped that Michael wouldn't respond to her acting out, by turning her into
a sex fiend, as he had her friend. While the brunette had become more willing
to do the job, whatever it entailed, Tom thought that something was still
missing, and he guessed that her drug, the need to be with Michael, was
actually interfering with her feeling any pleasure on the job, and wondered
how it was affecting her home life.

Making a mental note to warn his successor, about such potential problems in
situations where the wife had a 'happy' marriage, he remembered the other
thing he needed to tell his little whore housewife. Michael had called with a
'special' and he thought this might be just the trick for Melissa's situation.

"You gonna be OK now?" he asked.

She nodded, stopping the water and toweling off, not caring that he was
watching her. He liked seeing that unconscious change in her.

"Good. Then I'm gonna need you tomorrow, too."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but shrugged instead.

"I know, that's two times here, when you've said that you're afraid of the
risk of seeing these 'locals' in your other life. I understand that. But this
trick's special. He saw you saunter in tonight. Maybe you remember him. He
bought you a drink, I'm told." he paused, and she nodded, not meeting his eyes.
"There you go. Anyway, he's here in the hotel for a week while his place is
being renovated. So he's a potential regular for you, which would knock your
debt down without you having to put out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that
comes to me for a girl. I mean, you'd still do some other guys, but if he
wants you two or three times a week..." Melissa nodded her understanding. "I
was going to have you work some more Shriners, classier guys, who'd want to
take you to dinner first, believe it or not, but I think this will be the best
bet for you. Flying you out of town would mean overnight stays, which would be
a risk, given your marriage, and would be more expensive, so you'd have to
work that off, too."

"I'll still probably fly you and the others to Vegas or New York City or New
Orleans, I'll need you for that sort of thing two or three times a year, call
it a 'long weekend'. But those are special occasions, traveling is otherwise
a hassle. And during the summer, there'll be some 'day trips', but that's you
driving to and from a job, nothing too far away. So let's see if we can't find
you a guy who loves banging another man's wife, and wants to keep doing you.
That'll cut down on the 'quickie' work. Understand?" Melissa nodded, and he
reached out, caressing her cheek. "That's my girl. But remember our talk
tonight, and show him an especially good time tomorrow."

"Does he have a name?" Tom smiled at the hint of the fire that he associated
with the petite blonde returning.

"Sure does. Told Michael that he's James Franks. Now, Mike's going to check
him out, and make sure that he's legit. But Mikey said he got good vibes, and
the name didn't ring up any hits, when I ran it through the CIC computers
a while ago, so I'm guessing you're gonna be balling 'Daddy Warbucks' tomorrow
night, Little Orphan Annie. Now get dressed and get upstairs with the other
girls. Don't want your lover waiting for you."

Melissa blushed, surprised that Tom knew she and Kathy were more than friends.
And at the same time not surprised, he always seemed to know everything. She
balled the stained skirt in one hand after donning the sweats that were
hanging in the closet, and checking that there was no longer any cum leaking
out of her well plumbed ass. She grabbed the tube of medicated lotion that he
had provided, and then headed up the rickety stairs, closing the door and
hurrying into the lighted hallway twenty feet away, as she walked over to the
elevators.

Kathy was talking to the redhead when Melissa entered. Two of the other girls
were still there as well. Melissa took the empty stool beside her friend,
sitting down heavily, and crossing her arms to lay her head on the counter.

"Not too bad?" Kathy asked, eyeing her friend for a moment.

"Oh the job was horrible. But Tom brought me back. He..." she giggled. "He
made it all right."

Kathy just blinked at her, then reached for her purse. "Glad you had such a
fun time." she snapped.

Melissa sat up sharply, biting back the first response that came to mind, she
had a sudden image of the way her friend had reacted to Michael in Gate's.
Unwilling to let even a lover make such snide comments though, she used that
memory to blunt Kathy's obvious anger.

"Michael wasn't around tonight."

Kathy shook her head. Melissa started to speak, then shook her head, there
were still other girls around, and there was no reason to get herself into any
trouble again. She knew that Kathy could tell that she was mad though. She
held up a finger, shucked the sweats she'd borrowed, adding them to the
laundry pile, along with the skirt and blouse, before retrieving her own
belongings. She didn't bother with another shower, quickly pulling her clothes
on and motioning toward the taller brunette. "C'mon."

Once in her car, she could barely contain herself, but again she waited,
concentrating on the minimal traffic, until they were on the highway, headed
safely for home. Somewhere along the way, the anger that she'd felt at her
friend's attitude evaporated, as it usually did, if she was simply patient.
But she hesitated to mention the good news that she'd received.

"What is it?" Kathy finally asked. "You've been grinning like you just saw
Santa Claus since before we left."

"That's 'cause I got some good news!" Melissa paused, surprised that she could
still tease about their 'work'. She let herself smile, sure that Kathy would
like what she was about to tell her. "Lover, I have the answer to your every
need, so long as we're 'working girls'."

"You're drunk!" Kathy scolded.

"Actually, I'm not, at least not right now." Melissa stopped herself from
saying anything more, but wondered how much of what she'd just said was a joke,
and how much of it was an admission. "Your lover boy, is Tom's new partner."

"No he isn't. He just works at the clinic."

Melissa shook her head, reaching over to shake her friend's arm. "Would you
stop pouting and listen to me? Who was I with tonight?"

"How should I know? Some Shriners."

"Yeah, the Shriners from Hell. I mean after that. Who was I with after that?"

"... Tom."

"Right. But when I tell you something that big you doubt me?"

"You're saying Tom told you that?"

"Uh, huh. In fact, he also told that me your big kahuna may've found me a
regular. So that I don't have to keep bumping into guys who've been inside of
me."

"So that means..."

"That means that if you tell him how you feel, hell, if you just let him know
you'll service him whenever he wants, I figured that he'd be yours for as long
as you can stand it."

Melissa's hand was still on her friend's arm, and she felt the shiver that ran
through Kathy's body. "Are you all right?"

Kathy nodded, wondering how to tell Mel that she'd spent the entire second
round, the men hadn't been as spent as she'd thought, when they'd seen her
beginning to play with herself, imagining that she was with Michael. And that
it'd helped make ho-hum sex almost orgasmic sex. She shook her head, aware
that things were becoming more and more complicated.

"What a pair we make, eh?"

"You know it. I wonder if my high school guidance counselor ever thought I'd
end up a prostitute!"

"Naw, if he had, he'd have tried to ball you in his office."

"He did. Try, that is!"

Both women laughed, as there wasn't really a choice, as it was laugh or cry.
A few minutes later, Melissa dropped Kathy off at the law office, before
turning for home. Whatever residual pleasure that she'd felt after being with
Tom had become sufficient guilt, so that by the time that she pulled into her
garage, she paused to fix herself a coffee mug sized shot, before she tiptoed
into bed, stopping in the bathroom long enough to apply a second dose of the
lotion, and to remind herself that no matter how uncomfortable sex might be
the next day, that she had to be more than good for her trick the next night.



                                Part 18



Jordan wasn't sure why it kept feeling like the clock was ticking, he knew
better than to push too hard. The girl might get skittish, his front man might
get suspicious, or Tom might simply decide to bolt. But he was too close,
after too long without any shot at all. He knew he had to go for it, he just
didn't want to risk messing things up.

As he fixed his tie, he'd decided to use the 'new John' approach, unsure of
what was expected, and a hoping to make a positive impression on the girl, he
imagined what would happen when he single-handedly proved to his superiors,
and their superiors, that he hadn't been chasing a phantom, when he'd claimed
that there was a nationally organized syndicate of prostitution. The Bureau
had gone along to a point. His investigation of alleged crimes in the brothels
of Nevada hadn't panned out for him, but had provided them with some important
information. The arrests hadn't been so vital, but the names of those
implicated had been, he understood. Even the FBI occasionally found it
beneficial to have important people in their debt. But his supervisor had
balked at his insistence in the existence of a nationwide call girl scheme,
discounting the fragments of circumstantial evidence that he had accumulated,
and insisting that the Vegas bust was ample proof there was nothing more than
an endless succession of local pimps, running their handfuls of girls in
cities across the US. She had gone so far as to insist that anything so big as
a national prostitution ring would've long before been uncovered, using as an
example the periodic arrests of madams, whose larger than average stables,
(not the exact word that the madams employed), had invariably been exposed.

She and her peers had laughed at his insistence his evidence warranted more
investigative time. It didn't matter that he had computer generated sketches
from witnesses, who were willing to testify that the man each of them had seen,
had been the 'sponsor' of various women, who were hooking at business meetings
in Orlando, Tampa, Dallas, Phoenix, Vegas, Santa Fe, and Denver. Though he had
learned about the Denver and Santa Fe 'nodes' as he'd taken to calling them,
only after they'd suspended his investigation. Or that there were whispered
suggestions that the women, universally attractive, and 'locals', in those
cases where he had asked about that, but were not your 'typical', call girls.
The tidbit that a disgruntled John had offered up, to avoid a soliciting bust
in Tampa, had been that a man named 'Tom', a name that other evidence held in
common with the sketches, had claimed to be offering 'white whore housewives'.

As the ASAC in the Dallas office had pointed out, pimping for housewives wasn't
a federal crime. Jordan's hypothesis, that 'Tom' was practicing white slavery
inside the nation's borders, had met with hostile skepticism. He had tried to
go along, working his usual caseload, while pursuing his pet project in his
off time. His goal had been to amass enough circumstantial evidence, to demand
a task force to at least address the issue. Instead, his 'personal obsession'
had progressed in fits and starts, without uncovering a 'smoking gun'.

Others in his office and the labs became less and less helpful, and those who
truly considered him a friend, quietly suggested that he back off, for his own
good. To Jordan's disbelief, facts that he had previously nailed down, were
'proven wrong', when computer records were changed. Which had been ample proof
that 'Tom' had his fingers in the Bureau's workforce as well. He had been
prepared to angrily demand a hearing on those allegations, when his boss had
shut him down, *ordering* him to stop pursuing the 'imaginary super, pimp',
her words, even on his own time, and insisting that he was wasting Bureau
resources.

He had thought that the high profile nature of some of the evidence that he'd
gathered, sports figures, politicians, entertainers, and 'kings of industry',
trysting with other men's wives, would be an easy sell to his superiors at
least, if only to assure him leverage in the future. He had no doubt that his
own boss was innocent of the involvement, but he believed that someone in the
Bureau was providing 'Tom' all of his research, but it was too late when he
realized his error. The big names that he could implicate, might not have
stopped an investigation, but a bureaucracy, that was still reeling from a
series of incidents, allegations, and missteps, wasn't about to risk an
investigation that might uncover a mole in their own house. It was only
prostitution, after all. 

Which is why he had thought that he had hit the wall that he hit, after his
boss' edict. But it didn't explain why someone would be gunning for him, which
quickly became obvious, as an unknown enemy set about ruining his career.
Fortunately, his boss recognized the stench of a cover-up when she saw it, and
while she was too politically ensnared in the machinery, that is that if the
FBI turned him loose, the potential to hurt the agency was too great. She
couldn't, or wouldn't, let an agent of Jordan Frank's ability be squandered.
Especially when the activities were a sort of a proof that his gut had been
right all along.

So she had publicly suggested that Franks was 'over-stressed' and that she
hoped he'd 'take some time' to get himself back together. Privately, she
offered him limited support and funding, the NSA and CIA aren't the only
government agencies with 'slush funds'. And while apologizing that the time he
spent on the investigation would have to be his own. She pointed out that he
had barely touched his vacation time, which had accumulated over his nearly
fifteen years of continuous service, and had promised him 'emotional distress'
leave if that time was not enough.

He had grudgingly taken a leave of absence, grateful that someone at least
believed him. Coincidentally, the attacks on his character also stopped
abruptly, the day his leave began and he left the Federal building in Dallas.
But he had hardly taken the time off, and he hadn't left empty handed,
'borrowing' a variety of equipment to take on 'vacation' with him. 

Unassisted, he had continued his investigation, intent on gathering evidence
until he had built an air tight case. New 'nodes' had been discovered. He'd
actually spoken to a handful of the women purported to have worked for 'Tom'.
and twice that number of men who'd used Tom's women. He had enough to roll
every node he'd discovered up, along with their current 'operator'. But he
still didn't know the true identity of the man, known as Tom, whose face he
believed adorned the early composite sketches. The handful of photos that he'd
collected had been taken in varying combinations of bad lighting, long
distances, sharp angles, and with cheap equipment. None of which would even
enhance sufficiently to be of any use. And even if he'd had a pristine shot,
it would've been no proof in and of itself.

There were the records of the Johns and of the women he'd identified as having
worked in 'Tom's' syndicate. Without exception, they'd talked anonymously to
him, but had withheld much, that much he knew. And also without exception,
they'd promised him that they'd have no knowledge of why he was calling them,
if they were ever brought into court for whatever reason. The dedication, or
fear, or whatever combination that implied, was unparalleled in Jordan's
experience.

He submitted an anonymous report, not to his supervisor, so as to protect her
complicity, in hopes of someone else taking an interest in the case. IT made
no reference to where he had found 'nodes', but described a single man
organizing a shifting population of white prostitutes, predominantly servicing
black men, in major cities across the country, and asking that agents be on
the look out for such a suspect, noting that he was invariably present to
serve as a 'chaperone'.

Belatedly he realized that DC, where he'd sent the uncredited report, was an
obvious choice for a node in Tom's 'chain' of call girl services. That could
explain in part, how someone would be willing to leak information to the man,
whether by blackmail, or by sex and money for profit, as the motive.

Even so, he was surprised at the total lack of response, considering that he
had played the 'race' card, a trick that he had loathed throughout his tenure
in the Bureau. But then again, it was usually employed by those trying to get
a piece of scum off, regardless of the facts. But even the most bigoted SOB
he'd ever met, a DDC in the DC office, had been non-committal when Jordan
called, hinting that he'd 'heard about a inter-racial call girl ring. He echoed
the Bureau's party line, 'there was not, nor could there be an interstate
prostitution ring of any significance'.

In fact, the only real change had been that suddenly in Denver, the girls were
going to work, but without their pimp providing a visible presence. He still
catalogued a steadily growing list of 'likely recruits'. They were simply
working without a net. That change though, had reinforced his belief that
someone on the inside of the Bureau was protecting Tom. The man had reacted to
his brief, by changing his M.O. He'd protected himself so diligently, that
Jordan had nearly lost his trail, except for a lucky sighting of one of the
'known' girls, with a newbie, in Vegas.

Her flight out of Denver had put him on track again, and sooner than he'd been
onto the developing rings in Santa Fe or Denver. He hadn't abandoned the other
nodes, but his ongoing investigations there had run into problems. "Why weren't
there any 'disgruntled employees?'" he wondered, "Even the best of pimp had
girls who went south or went crazy, though he suspected that many of those had
started out that way."

It wasn't something law agencies would admit, but most vice work never rose
above the bottom of the human food chain, the hooker and her John, unless one
or the other was angry enough, or scared enough, to sell her pimp out. The
saving grace in vice, was that at some point, that always happened. Except to
Tom.

Jordan had tried to guess how he could keep all of his girls happy. Or lacking
that, how he could so successfully keep the angry and crazy ones from going to
the cops. In his experience, pimps were willing to 'make an example' of their
girls, a perverted form of sacrificing one, to protect many. And he also knew
that those who went to such harsh lengths, to keep their stable docile, were
invariably similarly severe with the Johns. Neither seemed to be Tom's style
however, and no matter how profitable sex for money nationwide was, he doubted
that Tom simply 'bought off' those working girls who got a bug in their
panties. But none of the women had offered an explanation to the phenomena,
though they'd definitely denied that any girls had 'gone missing', or to
seeing 'friends' in the news who'd 'turned up dead'. In fact, they'd seemed to
know very little about the other girls, whereas they were maniacally protective
of what they knew of their personal history with Tom. The difference was
obvious, but it had gotten him precisely nowhere.

Ignoring the 'supply' problem, there was also the issue of where were the
unhappy Johns? Working girls always get lazy or greedy. How did Tom keep his
girls in line, so that they put out and pleased their customers all of the
time, but didn't ask for, or simply take, too much in return. The Johns he'd
spoken with had been willing to admit they'd balled 'other men's wives', and
some had provided names and descriptions, that seemed to match the women on
his list. But none of them had been willing to name their supplier, much less
discuss how they'd gotten hooked up with him, or the girls. Which left the
question of how Tom got his customers. Until the night before, with a guy that
Jordan knew wasn't Tom, he'd never gotten this close to being offered 'a date'
as Mike had put it. Then again, he hadn't gone about it by openly wanting to
be a John. The entrapment statutes were unforgiving, and the con left law
officers too vulnerable for such practice to be routine, but he wasn't so
different from the girls in that manner, as he was operating without a net.

He decided that the sudden turn of fortune, in his favor, was the reason that
he was feeling antsy, and vowed not to waste the chance. That meant he couldn't
go full bore asking all sorts of questions on his 'date'. He had to hope that
he could reasonably ask to 'see' whoever he met again, and thought that the
story he'd fed Tom's surrogate, the night before, would make that easy enough.

Of course, if he'd been on the Government clock, doing the deed would be out
of the question, ignoring what the deep cover boys and girls did, of course.
In some ways, it was good that he was on his own, and not on the clock, because
it made him more careful. Pocketing a strip of condoms, he checked to be sure
that his only identification was that of the bland executive in the area's
regional Styrofoam plant, that he'd assumed when he moved to KC. It had been
backstopped in the national database, while his own real package had been
altered to protect him from any cross-references.

That 'help' had been accomplished by his boss, along with a handful of similar
bonafides, specific to the other cities where he'd been 'vacationing', a
parting gift for his 'fishing trip'.

He eyed his hotel room, making sure that there was no tell-tale signs of who
he really was, that might freak the girl out. He remembered a sting gone bad
when a 'priest' had left his Smith and Wesson sitting on the coffee table one
night, when he had brought the mark in for a meeting. Taking a deep breath, he
headed for the door, reminding himself again not to push things this time.
'Enjoy yourself', he said aloud, then stepped into the hallway. 

Melissa felt naked, as she sat on the same bar stool that she'd occupied the
night before. She'd tossed back two drinks, while worrying that a Shriner that
she knew through her husband or church or school, would happen by and see her
in the slinky glitter accented dress, with the deeply plunging neckline. She
downed another one, while considering that her 'dates' from the night before
might find her, and want an encore. 

Mike had told her that she was 'on' at 7:00, and she didn't like the way that
he leered at her, when he said it, making it seem dirty, whereas Tom just
talked about the work as if it were another day at school. But Mike was in
charge of this one, Tom had said so himself. And she guessed that she'd have
to get used to him, since he was going to be taking over for Tom.

She'd arrived from the next door 'ready room' at 6:50, specifically to have a
drink beforehand. Looking at the empties arrayed in front of her, she knew
that she needed to take it easy. She waved to the bartender, whose expression
betrayed his disapproval of her, though she didn't know if it was her drinking
or dress that offended him. Probably both. He paused long enough to ask if she
wanted another. Ignoring his tone of voice, she shook her head, reaching for
her purse to pay.

"Here, let me." a voice said. It was the man from the night before. Melissa
felt a strange conflict. He'd been so nice that she had almost convinced
herself that he didn't know what she was. Obviously that wasn't true. He was
just another John.

"I can't let you do that." she shook her head. His hand closed gently over hers.
She stared for a moment, surprised at how big he was, she hadn't noticed that
the night before.

"I insist. I was late getting here." He smiled at her. "But I wanted to look
good."

"You do." she said, as she bit her lip, amazed that she'd said it so
spontaneously. But by his smile, it was the right thing to say. Score another
one for the soothing effects of vodka.

"Well then... shall we?" He offered an arm, having flipped enough bills to
cover the tab and a generous tip onto the bar.

She stood up, aware of the way the short skirt rode up her thighs as she did.
She took a moment to straighten it, as if he wouldn't soon see everything
beneath it, before accepting his gesture. To her surprise, he turned away from
the elevators, toward the parking garage. 

"Uhm... I don't..."

"Oh..." he stopped, and she imagined that she could see him blush. "I'm sorry.
I just..." he sighed, then leaned toward her to whisper conspiratorially, "I
haven't ever really done this before, you know? I just... I saw you last night,
and then a gentleman suggested that I could be with you. I assumed that meant
for dinner as well as... you know."

Melissa was sure of it, then. He was blushing. She was also aware of a strange
excitement that he wasn't a regular, that he'd been interested in her.

"I think that'll be OK." she nodded, leaning against him with a familiarity
neither yet truly felt. "Where did you have in mind?" she asked, as a handful
of nearby restaurants flashed through her mind, along with the thought that
they were overdressed.

"Well, I thought about Skye's, but..." he paused at the look Melissa hadn't
been able to hide, "Is something wrong?"

She swallowed, then managed to shake her head, worried that she was ruining
the whole thing. "Uh, No." she stammered, "Wherever you want to go." She tried
to remind herself that it was the middle of the week, and the odds of and of
her friends being at the revolving restaurant were slim.

"You seem...uh, anxious." the man offered, as he led her into the garage,
walking towards a sleek, sporty car. He held the door open for her, as she
waved away his concern.

"No. I was just surprised. Usually it's barbeque or room service." she said,
and then winced at the suggestion that she was that familiar with eating with
a 'client', and hoped that he wouldn't be turned off at the thought that she
was a regular working girl.

"Oh." was his only reply, and then he was quiet, after he'd climbed behind the
wheel.

He started the engine, backed out of the stall, and waited until they were
headed south, before he spoke again "Are you sure that's it?"

Melissa paused, asking herself if this was another of Tom's tricks. Or
Michael's. She decided that if this guy was really was going to be her ticket
to freedom, she had to be as honest as she could.

"Well... don't get me wrong, I love the thought of d inner at Skye's. I just...
you know how this works, right? What I am?"

He seemed flustered by that. "Well yeah. I mean, you're a call girl. Michael
explained that in nauseating detail, that I was 'paying to play' I think was
his exact phrase. He seemed to think that meant that I wouldn't have to 'mess
around with warming up', whatever that means."

Melissa rolled her eyes at Michael's suggestion. She realized that it was even
more important that this man become her sugar daddy.

"He didn't... he didn't say anything else about me? About why I do this?" she
asked.

Jordan's brow furrowed, and he glanced at her for a minute, then back at the
road. "Well... he said something about the fact that you were married. I just
thought that was a story. You mean it isn't?!"

Melissa shook her head, chewing at the inside of her right lip as she did so.
Answering his question could give him the key to ruining her marriage.

"Doesn't your husband mind... I mean, he's OK with that?"

Melissa took a long breath before she answered, reminding herself what was at
stake. "No. He doesn't know."

"Damn!" he exclaimed, as he shook his head, as he thought about that. His free
hand had been resting between the seats, and she'd assumed that he was working
up the courage to touch her. She'd found that hesitancy charming, but was
alarmed when he brought it back to the wheel.

"So you're worried that he might see you there with me." he said, nodding his
understanding.

Melissa echoed his nod. "Sort of. Him or friends of ours."

"You must really..." he started to say, but then changed the subject, "We
could go somewhere else... I mean, somewhere you wouldn't be recognized."

"That's OK," she waved a hand dismissively, "It's not really a big risk." She
allowed herself a real smile, "Most of my friends wouldn't recognize me like
this, and we can't drive around too long or I won't do my..." she'd been going
to say 'job'. "I won't get to be with you tonight. Like Michael said, I have
to be done before 11:00, sort of like Cinderella and midnight."

He smiled at that. "OK then Cinderella... it's off to the ball."

Dinner passed quickly, during a little more than a turn of the restaurant
around the panorama of the city. Melissa ate sparingly, the food better than
she remembered. Unlike her husband, Jordan didn't comment on her drinking,
even buying a second bottle of wine with the main course. She felt pleasantly
loose as they returned to the car, having heard about his job, being too busy
for kids, and the death of his wife.

He kept insisting that she must be bored, but she found it appealing, almost
attractive, that he was staying in place, learning to appreciate his memories
rather than running from them. And it was flattering that he wanted her to be
the first woman that he'd been with in more than a year, after losing his wife
to cancer. That, along with the way that he treated her throughout the evening,
left Melissa intent that he would enjoy himself, even if she was late getting
home. And even if he never called on her again.

For his part, Jordan had repeatedly asked himself how such a beautiful,
companionable woman could be so hooked on sex, that she'd risked everything by
selling herself to strangers. He wisely didn't pry, but knew enough from
talking to people, to lace his story with elements that drew her's out too.
She went on about teaching, when he mentioned his wife had been a school
librarian, she admitted to having children and to their importance to her,
when he had lamented at not having any. And he wasn't lying when he said he
hadn't been with a woman for a long time, his wife had been less than
understanding of his 'whore obsession', as she termed it, before leaving him
for the neighbor in their DC suburb, nearly a decade before. There'd been
other women since, but nothing serious, and certainly none since he'd started
to chase 'Tom'.

On the drive back, he hesitantly reached across the seat to touch Melissa's
thigh. When she didn't move, he began to back off, not wanting to push things
too far, when he was so close to his quarry. Her hand caught his though,
holding it in place and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Then you want to do this... to be with me?" she asked, her voice was quiet,
but he had heard her clearly.

He felt himself growing hard, as an image of her lying in her lesbian lover's
bed filled his head. "I do." he said, and meant it.

She nodded, never letting go of his hand. They walked into the hotel from the
garage arm in arm, and she led him over to the elevators, pausing as they
turned by the panel of numbers.

"I don't know which room." she whispered, almost in a giggle.

He cleared his throat, reaching forward to touch the appropriate floor. "Sorry."
he mumbled, as they waited for the car to arrive on their floor. As the doors
closed, and they started up the hallway, he wasn't sure whether to be glad or
anxious that they were alone. If she tried to start anything there...

"Don't be." she said in answer, leaning lightly against him, "It's nice not to
be thought of like..." and she trailed off, leaving him to wonder again how
she could stay in a lifestyle she clearly didn't like.

She waited demurely until the door was closed and locked, before gently putting
her arms around his neck, and tilting her head to kiss him lightly. The kiss
lingered, and he responded, hands moving to her trim waist. Her body pressed
against his, not obscenely or suggestively, merely responding to their mutual
arousal. After a minute, he pivoted, holding her firmly as he did so, and
guiding them to the nearer of the twin beds. He turned again, as she sat down,
and then lay back on the comforter, keeping their bodies close, and their lips
together, but holding himself off to the side.

"Mmmm." she purred, when the kiss was finally broken, after a minute, "I like
that."

He just nodded and smiled. She looked at him, wondering what it was that was
so attractive about him.

"I worried that I'd scare you off, or that you'd be too eager to really enjoy
it." she said.

Jordan shook his head. "I want you to enjoy yourself too." he managed to reply. 

"That's not... that's nice." she sighed, as his hand moved beneath her skirt,
staying outside of her panties, but caressing her mons, while the other traced
a circle around one raised, taut nipple, where it tented her dress. He didn't
stop to wonder if her response was genuine. Her hands moved to his shirt,
unbuttoning it, despite the awkward angle, with practiced ease, that also went
unnoticed. Within moments, she was freeing his belt and opening his pants.

"Oh my!" she murmured again, as her hand dipped inside, finding his semi-erect
cock, "I'm sure that I'll enjoy this."

They continued to kiss and caress one another, undressing over a few minutes,
until they lay together, totally naked. His body was pressed against her's and
he was ready to take her then and there, but she sat up, bending to his waist,
letting her blonde hair cascade over his jutting erection.

"I think this needs a little attention first." she murmured, before taking the
head of his cock into her mouth.

Jordan groaned in appreciation, as she began to fellate him. She licked up and
down the length of his prick, before taking him into her mouth again, bobbing
her head, as she sucked on him with increasing fervor. Despite knowing what
she was, he was surprised that she could take almost his entire shaft without
any difficulty, as he wasn't a small man by any measure. He proved that by
easily lifting her naked hips, and turning her around, until she was straddling
his face, that he could return the favor. His tongue flickered over the top of
her slit, and he smiled at the way her back arched, pushing her pelvis down
onto his face. There was an appreciative moan around his swollen cock, which
was repeated when he began to lap at her sex, spreading her pouting labia a
bit more with each stroke. He toyed with the ring in her labia, the first time
he'd ever seen one up close. Then he began to thrust his tongue deeper into
her channel. He was pleased to find that it was not only man-made lubricant
easing the way, she was aroused, and becoming more so.

He had submitted to a rapid response HIV test administered by Michael the
night before, while the pimp went through the do's and don't's of enjoying
'his' girls. Condoms were a must for penetration, he'd been warned, though
he'd been less exact about oral activity. As thoughts of such started to slip
from his mind, Jordan tipped his head back, his voice a barely recognizable
growl.

"I'm getting close. Do you... um, want to do something else?"

There was a pause in the delicious sensation of her mouth working his cock,
before she replied. "Not right now. Just before we, Oh!" she gasped, as he
took her clit into his mouth, sucking at it lightly, while teasing the surface
with his tongue. Her body spasmed, and she eagerly dove back onto his shaft.
Within a moment, he came as well. She didn't stop though when he finished
pumping his load into her mouth and throat. He felt her fingers teasing his
balls, as his head bobbed steadily up and down, sucking her clit.

He rose quickly for more, after which she finally released him, smiling
teasingly, as she slid over his body, trapping his swelling erection against
her belly and mons, almost low enough to slip into her.

"Still interested in being with me?" she teased, giggling at his nod.

His hands moved over her body, lingering on her pierced nipple, and he
wondered briefly if it kept the nubbin perpetually aroused.

"This is interesting," he murmured, playing the part of the naive widower.
"Did it hurt?"

"I don't even remember." Melissa nuzzled his neck, wiggling her pelvis
suggestively, "It wasn't my idea to get it."

That surprised him, but he tried not to let on. "Oh... Does it help?" he asked,
as he felt her smile again.

"Sometimes. But tonight I haven't needed any 'help'. That was wonderful a
moment ago."

Jordan rumbled happily. "Tell me about it."

He felt her shift then, flexing her back, which drew her pelvis up. His cock
head brushed between her labia, then pushed gently into her sex. She sighed
settling onto him slowly, as he remembered that they'd skipped a step. "God
that feels so good," he managed to say, pumping his hips at her slightly, as
additional proof.

She stopped, holding him half inside of her for a moment, before rocking up
towards him again. With the second down stroke, he felt another inch or two
slip into her molten center. His hands came up, thumbs tweaking her nipples.
Melissa tipped her head back, rocking in a small motion that steadily worked
more of his member into her tight sex. She bit her lip, aware that he was
almost as big as Tom. And despite her 'rule' to the contrary, comparing his
concern for her, his tenderness, to Jeff. The combination was undeniably
arousing, which was the reason that she'd chosen to take him, if only for a
moment, into her sex without a condom. She had one in her hand, and would stop
to put it on him as he got closer, but knew he'd be able to go for awhile,
having blown one load already.

She felt her inner thighs brush against his, and knew that she was almost fully
impaled. There was the familiar stretch of being totally filled, and she smiled,
he was at least as big as Tom. Leaning back, she reveled in having him fully
inside of her. She looked down, still smiling at the expression in his eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his hands on her waist, supporting her.

She nodded, then leaned forward to kiss him hungrily, rocking her hips more
quickly than before. God, he felt good thrusting into her like that! They moved
in unison, rocking together harder and faster for several minutes. Melissa had
enjoyed two strong orgasms when he sat up, bringing Melissa upright with him.
She giggled at his surprise when she quickly laced her legs around his waist,
without disengaging from his pleasantly aching shaft. Turning, he moved over
her into the missionary position, intent on pleasuring this enigmatic young
woman as fully as possible.

"Wait!" she managed to say, after he'd been thrusting into her for a minute,
building her to the edge of another climax, he was sure.

He paused, wondering what was wrong. "I need to get this on that wonderful
cock before it's too late." she murmured.

He nodded his head, and reluctantly slipped out of her cunt. She deftly
unrolled the latex sheath onto his prick, and then he resumed his steady
pumping. She had timed it well, he was getting close, and true to men world
wide, he'd stopped thinking about protection long before. They came together
a minute later, muffling one another's cries in a passionate kiss.

Spent, he rolled off of her, but making a conscious effort to pull her close
to him, in an intimate post-coital hug. She lay there for several moments,
murmuring contentedly. When she finally sat up, it was with a groan, having
checked the clock.

"I really have to leave." she sounded apologetic, "I hope that you enjoyed
yourself."

"I hope I can enjoy you again." Jordan blurted, then asked himself if he was
asking, as he had planned, or because this woman was honestly captivating. She
nodded, upper incisors closing on and indenting her lower lip, as she
unconsciously offered an endearing smile.

"If you'd like that, I would too." She hesitated, "This was the best time I've
had since I... since I started doing this." She got quickly off of the bed
reaching for her discarded clothing before she continued. "I really meant that.
I wish I could stay longer, but... I can't."

"You're sure?" he asked, now realizing that he wanted to be with her again
right then, to hold her as his own. He wondered if that was the reason men who
used prostitutes kept going back. Was this a normal response? He doubted it,
but didn't know why he'd suddenly feel such a bond while embroiled in the
biggest case of his career. 

"That's the downside of cuckolding another man." she sounded unexpectedly
bitter, but quickly apologized, "That wasn't fair. And I really did love being
with you."

"That wasn't why I asked for you..." 

"What?"

"I didn't know... I mean, I didn't know you were married." he said, giving a
short laugh, "Hell, I didn't realize you were a, um, professional when I met
you last night." He watched, sure that she'd bought his white lie.

"I don't know that I'd call myself a professional." she said, shaking her head,
"Though I guess that's as accurate as any other word now..." A melancholy
seemed to fill her then, and she turned away from him, dressing quickly before
she moved to the bedside once more.

"I'm sorry... this was wonderful and I'm ruining it. Thank you for dinner. And
for letting me be the first after your wife. I'm honored... And I hope you'll
ask for me again. I'd really like that."

Jordan reached under the pillow, the agent in him sure that she was fishing
for a tip. But before he could bring his hand out though, she'd bent down to
kiss him quickly on the cheek and turned, letting herself out of his room
without another word. He leapt out of bed, confused at her obvious sincerity,
incredulous that she hadn't wanted anything from him, and aware she was
walking off with a potential lead, wherever she changed from a housewife to
the vamp he'd met in the bar. If her friends and hubby wouldn't recognize her,
she had to have someplace to do that.

Guessing that it wasn't in the hotel, he threw on a pair of dark blue sweats
that he'd set out earlier, and dashed out of the room. For once he was glad
for the slow elevators, and for being on only the sixth floor. He nearly burst
out of the stairwell, before he checked that impulse, no use attracting any
undo attention. Instead, he eased into the hallway, and headed west, away from
the lobby, just in time to hear the chime of the arriving elevator. He slipped
behind the plastic plants by the phone booth, picking the handset up, as if
making a call, as he watched Melissa head out the revolving front door.

She turned right. Thanking the fates for putting him in the right wing of the
hotel, so that he didn't have to cross the open lobby, Jordan dashed to the
far end, where there was another stairwell. He took the stairs as far down as
they could go, relieved to find that there was no alarm on the exit door, just
a sign warning him that he could not reenter at that point.

Even before the door had clicked behind him, he'd scaled the concrete retaining
wall separating the hotel's underground parking from the more elevated
neighboring drive. He paused, relieved no one had seen him and pleased to see
that he hadn't lost Melissa. He followed the call girl to the adjacent,
decidedly seedier apartment building, and ducked into the shadowed corner at
the front, where he could see her wait for the elevator. Fortunately, she was
alone. Not moving, he noted the car climbed to the fourth floor.

Moving to the mailboxes in the entryway, he glanced at the names. There were
fourteen nameplates on each floor. He quickly focused on the fourth floor.
Three were blank, one was identified only as 'Fun LLC' and #413 was labeled
'Jerry Gerlz'. Any of the rooms could still be her destination, but his gut
said that was the place, Tom was obviously an alias, and he knew he marked
all of his 'girls' with a tattoo. That had been offered up by one of his
former employees, though she hadn't shown him her's, so he hadn't known what
to expect until that night. Having seen Melissa's various adornments, he'd
guessed her tattoo also was Tom's doing.

He wondered how she'd explained it to her husband, except that she apparently
had a thing for body art anyway, so maybe he hadn't thought twice about it.
Not wanting to attract any attention, he turned, checking the place out more
clinically as he left, and watching for any sign that someone had noticed him
or was watching him. He backtracked to his room, trying to decide how to
proceed. 



                                 Part 19



"Finally!" Jeff said, as he eyed her from the doorway to his den. Melissa had
barely showered, she'd been in such a hurry to get home. Still, the clock had
been chiming twelve when she entered the hall from the kitchen. "Hope you had
a good time." She was getting used to that tone. A semi-sarcastic, resigned
pessimism she'd never known in him.

At first it'd made her feel guilty, but after a couple weeks, during which time
he'd proven that he'd rather play the part of the put-upon spouse, than
addressing any real issue, she was almost happier avoiding him. She meant to
do that again, shrugging and saying, "It was OK, but it's good to be home." as
she passed him in the hallway. He reached out though, catching her waist, and
not so gently.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

Melissa blinked, reviewing what lies she'd told that night. Kathy was home, so
she hadn't had that as an excuse. "I stayed late doing lesson plans, you hate
it when I do them here."

"All night?"

"Of course not!" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes ablaze
at his suggestion, truth be damned. "I graded some papers, then went to join
some of the others who'd gone to Tom Fooleries." Which was true, at least that
they'd gone there. "Why?" she asked, staring up at Jeff, wondering if he
suspected somehow.

"I drove by to surprise you... you've been so busy, I thought we might... I
thought we'd do something together."

She noticed that his grip hadn't gotten any lighter as he asked, "You were
there all night?"

She shrugged again. "Nope. I'd missed them by the time I got there. So I went
into Barnes and Noble for awhile, then had a bite at the Canyon Caf‚. I'm
sorry, I should've called, but you had that late meeting. And the boys had
practice, and I'd said I was going to be late..." she replied, as she turned
slightly and looked over his shoulder at his computer screen.

At the top there was an inch tall blonde gyrating in an endless loop, bending
over and waggling her naked ass at the viewer. Her eyes moved to the web page
that was open, and without thinking she spoke.

"Oh my God! What are you looking at?" she exclaimed.

He read her tone as disgust, which was a good thing. But it was really terror.

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

"That's obscene!" she exclaimed again and turned away, as if he hadn't blocked
her view of the screen. The image remained behind her eyes and she added,
"Horrid."

"I dunno," he shrugged, "It's not like those women don't want what they're
getting... they apparently like sex!"

Melissa ignored the shot, his second in less than a minute. She paused, trying
to remember when they'd last had sex. She wasn't sure. And she didn't know if
she cared. All she knew was that she didn't want to push the issue, or have
him look too closely, since the masked women being used by several black men
were she and Kathy. She remembered the title at the top of the page, Big Dog's
Blacks on Blondes. As she turned forcefully in his grip, her hip brushed
against his pelvis, and she felt his erection. She recoiled at the thought
that the images of her being used like that aroused him.

"Does that excite you?" she asked without thinking, "Is that what you want? Do
you want me to let you and your friends degrade me like that?"

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

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

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

"Go fuck yourself!" she almost shouted, barely remembering the boys, "Go back
to your computer and beat off, you little man!"

His face was a mask of rage, as he caught hold of her blouse in his hand,
propelling her backwards down the hall towards their room.

"Little man?" he snarled, "Little man! Let's see if I can't make you say
different. You're my wife! I won't take that shit from you!" he said keeping a
hold of her, and as they passed into the dark bedroom, he paused long enough
to kick the door closed, but he didn't let go of her. He pushed her onto her
back on the bed, laughing as her blouse tore open in his hands. She lay frozen
in terror, as he yanked at her skirt, ripping her panties away. There was a
pause, during which she heard him open his pants. He stepped away from the bed,
and she let out a breath, assuming that he'd come to his senses. A moment later
though, his weight was on top of her, as he drove his hips into her savagely.
She winced, having washed the lubricant from her sex before heading home, but
before the discomfort increased too much, he was all of the way inside of her.
She dimly felt him bite at a naked nipple, thankfully it was the unpierced
side.

"Is that small? Huh? Have you forgotten? I'll bet that's it. You're so busy
hanging out with Miss Too Good For Anyone, and playing Miss Perfect Teacher to
consider having sex." he said, as he pumped into her relentlessly, "I shouldn't
have been so calm about it. I should've reminded you sooner about what gets
you off!" he said panting, and she realized that he was already close to
cuming.

She closed her eyes, fighting back her tears at finding what a sham her
marriage really was. And not because he suspected her of infidelity, or at
least, not mostly because of that. Scared of what he'd do if she didn't react,
Melissa let the 'pro' that she'd become take over, arching her back and moaning
softly, her fingers digging into the back of the man rutting into her.

"Uh huh, see? I told you that I could remind you of just what you needed." he
exclaim, stopping and giving a groaning sigh, as he came inside of her.

He held himself over her, thrusting fully home a few times more, like any John
she'd ever known, then rolled off of her to lay panting beside her on the
still made bed. Within two minutes, she could tell by his breathing that he
was asleep. She leaned over sniffing, hoping that he'd been drinking. There
was no odor on his breath. She lay back, enduring the bout of shakes that
wracked her body, as she relived what had just happened. For an awful moment
she wondered if he had decided that was the way he liked sex, and if that
would forever be the way that they would have sex.

She got up from the bed, padding down the hall into the guest bathroom in her
ruined clothes, and dropping to her knees by the toilet, before becoming
violently ill. As she sat on the cold tile, her forehead against the porcelain
stool, she wondered how things had gotten so upside down. It nearly made her
vomit again, when she found herself hoping that James would call, offering a
pleasant interlude from the hell that her home life had become.

Heedless of how she looked, she went into the sitting room, pouring herself a
healthy dose of the bourbon that she was replacing several times a week. As
the liquid warmth moved through her, taking away some of the horror of the
night's end, she returned to the den. The high-speed Internet connection was
on full time, so she only needed to move the mouse, and the images of her
'enjoying herself', as Jeff had put it, were before her. She knew that Kathy
had her own email address at work, and quickly copied the address to a note,
warning her not to simply pull it up where anyone could see.

Having sent the warning and website to her friend, she back paged to a 'Daily
Thumbs' page, that like Jeff had said, offered an endless string of 'new'
images of named porn actresses and 'amateurs'. It looked to Melissa like Jeff
had viewed most of the sites. She'd read in some weekly, that 90% of men
regularly viewed porn on the Internet, but hadn't expected it from Jeff.

Shaking again, she realized that she wasn't really mad at his looking, she
could remember a time when she'd eyed passing men with girlfriends, making
quiet appraisals of the 'possibles', and he wasn't cheating, and she knew that
she hadn't really been there to satisfy him for several weeks. She could at
least admit that. She'd lost it though, at the thought that he found out about
her double life, by a dumb accident, and at the fear that other pictures might
be out there that she couldn't deny.

It scared her too, that she'd felt nothing but revulsion, as he was rutting
into her, even acknowledging that she'd neglected him. He hadn't been loving,
wasn't gentle or caring either, and hadn't appreciated that she'd put up with
it willingly, and most importantly, hadn't even begun to arouse her. Melissa
returned to the bedroom after a long hesitation, wondering if he ever would
again. 

The next morning Jeff was already gone when she awoke, and it was too late to
consider showering before work. She looked at her reflection in dismay, making
a minimal effort to look presentable. At least she wouldn't be in the same
clothes. She found the note on her vanity.

"Sorry I overreacted. Let's talk tonight when I get home, after 10, late
meeting. Love, Jeff."

She reread the note, then crumpled it up, wondering what sort of 'meeting' he
had, and angry that he'd so lightly treated what had happened. She tossed back
her morning double, while fuming over his apparent attitude, and welcomed the
familiar glow that made it matter less. Appropriately supplied to endure the
day, she climbed into her car to head to school, having packed lunches and
made sure that the alarms would wake her sons in time for their classes.

On the way to work, she considered the dream that had awakened her. Whereas
she'd gone to bed anything but aroused, she woke up on the slippery edge of
climax, nearly shouting James' name. Not Jeff. Not Tom. Something about the
stranger who'd been with her the night before still resonated within her. After
assuring herself that Jeff wasn't there, she'd indulged in her body's need,
fingering herself to a satisfying climax, using her memory of the night before
to continue her dream, rather than change it. As she sat at a light, a half
smile on her face, as she relived the dream, and what it had done for her, she
was surprised, but not uncomfortably so, that she didn't feel guilty. Telling
herself that it would help her to get through the rest of her 'debt', she
decided that she was glad that she was hoping that Jordan would call. 

Kathy sat down at her terminal and logged on, pulling down her bosses' emails
and then her own, reviewing and sorting, as her predecessors had the blizzard
of paper messages. She put Melissa's message off until last, expecting a brief,
sanitized, version of the night before. After reading the cryptic message and
it's accompanying warning, Kathy stared at the screen, trying to decide what
to do.

She got up abruptly, printing the note, then deleting it completely, before
directing the others' mail to their electronic boxes with appropriate notes.
Jotting a note that she would be back, she hurried to the elevator, the single
sheet of paper clutched in one hand, and took it downstairs to the research
area. Company policy prohibited 'personal surfing' and she knew the main
terminals were monitored for such, but the research terminals were used to
gather all sorts of information for various cases, much of the data
'questionable' by moral standards. Better, to promote use of the system, which
had been invaluable in several cases, those systems were always on-line, and
were not monitored. She was lucky to find an open unit, but reasoned the law
clerks, lawyer wannabes, mostly, who did the majority of the searches were
seldom seen before 9:00.

Checking that no one was nearby, Kathy quickly typed the address line into the
header and pressed enter. Puzzlement gave way to shock, as the title appeared,
followed by the minimized thumbnails of her and Melissa putting out for a
group of naked black men. There was no doubt that it was them, and Kathy
wondered if Jeff had seen it, and realized what was happening. She decided not,
Melissa wouldn't have just emailed her if that had been true. She also
considered whether Fred would recognize her, and quickly discounted that
possibility, he barely knew what she looked like any more.

She guessed that it might mean that they had some leverage, but there was no
telling what Tom was pulling in on this little side business, but Kathy guessed
that they could shave some of their debt off by knowing about it. That would
require proof, however. She quickly saved each of the images, as well as the
master page and the URL, to one of the blank CD ROM's lying around the room.
After a thought, she burned a second and third copy, before ending the burn
program.

Pocketing the disc, she deleted the history reference and returned to her desk,
tucking the disc into it's plastic protective sleeve, and then into her purse.
Locking the purse in her desk drawer, she took enough additional time to visit
the ladies room, the pictures, including some of Michael thrusting into her
from behind, had left her sufficiently aroused that she needed to masturbate
quickly, in order to get on with the day's activities.

Safely back at her desk, she found herself hoping each time the phone rang,
that it would be Mike, asking her to join him that night. The thought that he
would soon be in charge of their debt, kept her on the edge of needing another
trip to the bathroom.

Twice Melissa was nearly caught taking a drink, and the way the fourth grade
teacher eyed her, she suspected the sour biddy knew what she had hidden in her
purse, and her car and her desk. Aware of what would happen if she was caught,
she went out for lunch, relocating all of her stash to her car. And like Kathy,
she found herself hoping for a phone call, wishing that Jim would ask to be
with her again. She called home when school was out, and she finished her
lesson plans. The boys were home, but were going to friends for dinner.

Instead of going home, Melissa sat at her desk, trying to understand just how
she'd gotten into such a situation, and to guess where it would lead. She
absently opened her purse and checked her cell phone, surprised to find the
screen blank. When she plugged it in, she found that she had no fewer than
four messages.

The first was from Kathy, suggesting that they meet. The second was from Mike,
telling her that he could 'put the John off' but gloating that she 'must've
really put out', because the guy from the night before was interested in
'another taste'. Grimacing at the man's leering tone, she nevertheless felt an
emotional lift, Jim must have really enjoyed himself. But before calling back,
she reviewed the other messages.

Kathy had called again, saying simply she'd been called by Mike, and that she
hoped that they could 'share an excuse', adding that they should talk at the
dive bar near the apartment 'before work'. The final message had been an
exasperated Mike, threatening to revert to the cryptic home and work messages
if she didn't check her voice mail more often, and giving her a deadline to
respond, before he told the John that she was 'otherwise engaged'.

Afraid of what that might mean to Jim, Melissa glanced at the clock. She had
less than five minutes to call Mike, and give an OK. As she dialed Tom's
number, since he'd turned his cell phone over to his new partner, she admitted
that at least he'd given her a choice. Tom would've told her when and where he
wanted her. She wondered how long it would be before Mike adopted that
attitude.

She met Kathy for a drink, before they headed to the apartment to get ready.
Kathy explained that she saw the site, and planned to talk to Michael about
how much extra time they were credited for it, since 'Internet sales' hadn't
been discussed in the release that she knew that they'd signed. Melissa was
hesitant to confront Tom, remembering the way that he'd punished her the last
time, but her friend was so certain that Michael would listen, and be
reasonable, that she hadn't argue.

She also didn't let on that she was actually looking forward to her 'date'
tonight, or that Kathy seemed positively aglow at the prospect of seeing
Michael. While she honestly loved her friend, Kathy's obvious devotion to
their new pimp was unsettling. Especially compared to Tom, who was no prince,
Melissa thought the man was a lech. The ride from the bar to the apartment was
made in silence.

Breaking her usual routine, Melissa actually showered before getting ready to
meet Jim. As she stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the towel in the
basket, and walking naked to the closet, she saw Michael and Kathy talking in
the corner. His eyes followed her across the room, but her friend seemed not
to notice it, despite the fact that she was staring adoringly at their pimp.

Melissa realized that galled her, that he knew the way Kathy felt about him,
and used it to his advantage, and the same realization also doomed their prior
hope for a shorter sentence, as Kathy had termed it. Even before Kathy
approached her a moment later, she knew that the website would mean no fewer
tricks, and she was right.

"Michael explained that they calculate the web sales into our totals." she
explained breathlessly, as she took off her blouse.

Melissa realized that her friend had removed her bra, before going to talk to
their pimp, and wondered again what her friend was thinking.

"That means it'll help us down the road, but no one knows how much." she
giggled, "He said that we should visit the site a lot, since part of the
payment that they get, is based on the number of hits."

"You're sure chipper." Melissa commented, and immediately felt guilty for the
shot, it wasn't like she was unaffected either.

Kathy merely nodded. "I have a quickie, so Michael's going to take me when I'm
done."

"Take you out? So I guess I shouldn't wait?"

Kathy blushed as she leaned over.

"No, he's going to fuck me. I'm so hot just thinking about it, I'll probably
cream, no matter what the John's doing."

"I guess that's a good thing," Melissa answered neutrally, not really able to
fault her lover. After all, she hadn't bothered to add any lubricant to her
pussy before she'd begun to dress. She'd felt strangely nervous, paying more
attention to her make-up, and putting it on more tastefully than Tom had
counseled for her usual work. She was ashamed to admit to herself, that she
almost hadn't put any condoms into her purse. Like it or not, both women were
adapting to their situation, focusing on the few positives that existed in the
world of a whore.

Kathy jumped up, clearly primed to do her trick and return for some of
Michael's attention. But Melissa didn't mind her friend's impatience, closing
her things into her locker, and joining her on the short walk to the hotel.

"You're early!" he exclaimed.

Jordan was seated in one of the shadowed booths, when Melissa hesitantly
looked into the dim room. She smiled and nodded, suddenly feeling happier than
she had all day. She hurried toward the table, but he met her half way. The
change in him was striking, he wasn't as hesitant as he'd been, and she
wondered with some concern, if other things would change as well.

"You're ready to go upstairs." she murmured, after accepting a full kiss from
her 'date'. Part of her had hoped to get a drink first.

"Oh no, unless you're in a hurry." Jordan said, taking her arm, and leading
her again toward the garage. "I thought we'd go to the Herford House. It's
there by Bazooka's."

"I know," she blushed, wondering if that made him think she'd been in the
strip club.

"You know you don't have to do this." she offered.

He nodded, then said, "I want to. This may be business for you, but I'm going
to treat it like a real date."

"I like that, and you. And it's not just business for me either." Melissa
surprised herself, as she actually meant that.

"But it's business for your..." he glanced at the desk clerk, who eyed them
knowingly as they passed, though he wasn't speaking loudly enough for the
snot to hear them, "manager."

Melissa looked around. "I'd rather not talk about him."

Jordan stiffened, "Is something wrong? Is he threatening you? Did I do
something to get you in trouble?"

Melissa smiled at his outrage but couldn't bring herself to admit the truth.
Any more than she was willing to deny it, even if it was another of Tom's
traps. She just shook her head slightly, trying not to look sad.

"I'll be glad you want to be with me then," Jordan said, nodding his head
decisively, "and we'll leave that discussion until later. I hope that you know
that I don't want to force anything on you."

"You're not. Honestly. In fact, I was hoping that you'd call." she said,
blushing again.

"Then we'll definitely have to talk." He eyed her meaningfully, "I need to
know what's wrong, so that I can fix it."

For a moment Melissa allowed herself to imagine her 'sugar daddy' buying her
out from under Tom's cruel debt. But she knew that wouldn't happen. Couldn't
happen. And if it did, what would that mean for her marriage, she'd simply
have traded one owner for another. She was glad when Jim didn't press the
issue.

The ride to the restaurant was short and quiet. He turned the Lexus SC over to
a valet, the Crown Vic was kept, separate to reduce the chance that she'd
notice him when he was following her in her real life. He escorted the
beautiful, and he was beginning to realize, distressed call girl inside. He
spoke quietly to the hostess, asking for something intimate, and they were
early enough that she was able to accommodate them, providing them an alcove
booth for two.

Melissa suggested that he order for them both, and he didn't miss her relief,
when he ordered a bottle of wine to go with the meal. He guessed that she was
walking the ragged edge of having a problem with the booze, another suggestion
that all was not as it seemed. Even so, she smiled and talked openly about
herself, laughing at his good jokes, groaning at the bad ones, and managed to
eat more of her meal, than she had the night before.

Leaning back after the waitress had cleared the plates, he asked if she wanted
dessert. Smiling suggestively, she said she was waiting to get back to 'his
place' for that. She blushed, as she spoke, and he realized that she actually
meant that, yet another surprise. She abruptly excused herself to the ladies'
room and he pondered how the different lives that she was leading must conflict,
as she moved into the hall. He was surprised when she reappeared seconds later,
skin deathly pale, eyes wide, almost panting.

"Melissa!" he rose, reaching for her in alarm. She sagged against him, her
eyes fluttering slightly. He could feel her shaking.

"Get me out of here!" she murmured. Concerned about her, and about himself in
case Tom had somehow twigged, and about whatever it was that could affect her
so, Jordan threw enough money to cover the dinner and a tip on the table, as
he half supported and half carried her out, asking the valet to hurry up as he
waved a twenty at the man.

He hoped it was the man's glance at the clearly distressed woman that propelled
him into the lot, but knew from sad experience, that greed is often the more
powerful motivator. While they waited Melissa seemed to calm down a bit. She
pulled him forcefully back against the building, out of the line of sight of
the restaurant's door and front windows.

His sense of self-preservation fully active, she seemed to be hiding from
something, or some one terrible, it was a struggle for Jordan to keep his hand
away from the AMT backup 9 mm hideout automatic, that he'd tucked into the
back of his pants. Melissa otherwise ignored his repeated questions, her eyes
blinking unseeingly, as she leaned against him and the wall. The shaking
recurred every few seconds, lasting for a breath or two, before passing.

A moment later, the sleek silver Lexus was before them. The dash that she made
to the passenger door was the first independent action that she'd made since
he grabbed her beside their table. Eyeing the restaurant, the whole time that
he moved around the car, and paid the grateful, but curious valet, as he
slipped behind the wheel. The tires were hissing on the pavement before his
door had closed. He looked at Melissa, expecting her eyes to be locked on the
passing glass store fronts, but they were caged straight ahead, fixed on
nothingness.

She was barely aware of the car's motion, or of Jordan's concern, as he watched
her. She kept asking herself if she'd really seen him, but she knew that it
was true. Turning the corner toward the ladies' room, she'd caught a clear
image of Jeff's meeting. It wasn't an office meeting, he was seated at an
angle to a painfully thin redhead. Their fingers were twined, and as she
watched, the woman's foot brushed suggestively over her husband's calf, to the
man's obvious pleasure.

He'd said something and she nodded, reaching for her glass, as he speared the
last morsel of steak on his plate. The redhead somehow sensed that she was
being watched then, and she glanced up, smiling knowingly at Melissa. The
emotionless, professional 'leave him alone, this one's mine!' glare that
Melissa had seen used on occasion in the make-up room at the apartment, had
distorted the woman's otherwise stunning face.

Spinning on her heels before Jeff had noticed the change, Melissa had fled to
her own table, fighting for breath, and at the same time struggling not to
scream or cry. He was cheating on her, and it was by his own choice. 

It seemed that they hit every light on the way back to the hotel. The trip
took long enough that she'd recovered somewhat by the time that they pulled
into the garage. Time enough that the shock and humiliation had become a
simmering anger. She checked her appearance in the mirror, not too bad. The
last thing that she wanted to do, was to attract Michael or Tom's attention,
assuming that they were watching the lobby.

Jordan made no effort to get out of the car, after he killed the engine. He
tentatively reached over, covering her hand with his. Looking up at him, she
bit her lip, aware of her keen need to be with someone right then.

"Can you talk about it?" he asked.

"Afterwards." she said. "Right now I want you to make love to me."

He nodded, still worried about her reaction, and more importantly, what had
caused it, but worried as well at the way that a part of him had reacted to
what she'd just said.

"You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded, managing a smile, as she pulled him to her, kissing him
passionately.

"I guess that's answer enough for me." He checked the clock on the dash, "Do
we have time?"

There was a curious pause before she nodded, and then said, "Tonight I'm all
yours, but..."

"But what?" he queried.

She looked down, not wanting to answer. "I need to feel you inside of me now.
I want to lay beside you, to be with you more than I could last night, but I
have to go get my things first, my real things. Otherwise, I can't let him
know what I'm doing, or there'll be trouble."

She watched him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. He wondered just what Tom
had done to her in the past, that she was so skittish suddenly.

"That takes a lot of trust to say to me."

She nodded. "I'll earn that trust."

She smiled briefly, though he could see the fear that remained in her eyes.
"We should go upstairs." he suggested.

She nodded, and they returned to the hotel hand in hand. With each moment as
they moved through the quiet atrium to the elevator, and into the faux gilt
cage of the elevator, the thought of what she was about to be doing with this
quiet man, built within Melissa a fierce arousal. Before the doors had closed
fully, the pretty blonde teacher had turned, pressing herself boldly against a
relative stranger, not caring who saw her wanton advance, hungry to be with
him, to feel him within her, once more.

He responded instinctively, amazed at how quickly the woman had shifted from a
strange mix of anger and despair, to a passion so strong that he could almost
feel her body humming. He was dimly aware that her hands were nearly tearing
his shirt, she was working so frantically to free the tail. Heedless of the
tiny pistol that he had pushed away from the back of the elevator, letting her
jerk the shirt over the weapon's holster, her fingers never nearing the
leather or grip of the gun.

His erection jolted, as her fingers slipped beneath the cotton of his pants
and boxers, running over his skin, her nails scratching lightly. She broke
their passionate kiss, after fifteen or twenty seconds, burying her face where
his shoulder met his neck, murmuring her need, as she pressed herself against
his crotch. This wasn't the almost shy, carefully subservient woman he'd known
before, and Jordan sensed that this was somehow the real Melissa.

His breath caught, as her fingers found the tab of the zipper, and before he
could voice an objection, she had his pants half open, her fingers desperately
but gently tugging at his shaft. The cool air was proof that she'd succeeded
in exposing him, and unable to think clearly enough to worry about what might
happen, Jordan sagged against the wall of the car, as the petite blonde slid
languidly down his body and took him eagerly in her mouth.

He gripped the rail with both hands, as her head bobbed feverishly. She was
taking his substantial length completely, and again he was amazed at the skills
that she displayed, though such rational thought quickly vanished, as she
built him toward climax. He was ready to shout, as the bell chimed and the car
jolted, slowing down before it reached their floor. For a moment he considered
stopping her, aware that their display could land them in the local lock-up.
But Melissa didn't hear, or didn't care, or the risk of being caught was
fueling her own needs, because she simply sucked at him harder, holding her
face against his crotch.

A moment later, it was too late to do anything but gasp, as she carried him
over the edge, slurping up each heavy shot of his semen without coming up for
air. He was still firing into her throat, when the doors parted, luckily to
an empty hall. Aware that could change at any moment, he caught the amazing
woman at his feet by the armpits, lifting her off of his semi-erect pole. She
whined in protest, eyes clearing from the lust haze enough to remember where
they were.

She blushed prettily, but didn't protest, when he turned her, using her to
hide his open pants and flagging cock, as he guided her to his room. It was a
different room than the night before, near the top of the hotel, for which he
was glad, considering what had just happened. He could tell that the mercurial
blonde wasn't finished, as she pressed her taut rump against him with each
step in the hall. For a moment, he wondered if it really was nymphomania that
had led the pretty lady into her present lifestyle. She was certainly more
aggressive than any woman he'd ever known.

As proof, she turned while he groped in his pants for the key, wrapping her
arms around his neck, one leg rising to his waist, allowing her to grind her
pelvis against his crotch. He realized that she'd somehow stripped off her
panties, had to have done so in the elevator, and her sex was literally
dripping wet. While he wasn't as 'experienced' as the majority of his friends,
he knew that he'd never seen a woman so turned on, as Melissa was at that
moment, and he knew enough to be confident that her reaction was real. She
wasn't high, and she wasn't simply faking it, in hopes of a bigger tip. 

His erection returned with uncommon speed, in response to his partner's
excitement, he felt himself slip into her velvet folds, and then heard the
throaty moan of pleasure escape her lips, as the door to his room opened. They
didn't make it to the bed for the first exchange, in fact, he barely got the
door closed. Having turned, keeping her back to the door, he allowed the
smaller woman to push him down onto his back, and then he watched, as she
caught him in a tiny hand, guiding his resurrected cock into her tight seam,
and settled onto him, with obvious relish. He opted not to touch her otherwise,
as he simply watched, in the half-light of the hall.

She was beautiful, her eyes were closed, her head dipping back every few
strokes, her lips parting slightly. Within a minute she was rutting against
him like a wild woman, with moans and cries escaping her throat with an
increasing volume and frequency. One hand rose to tangle her hair, as the
other's manicured nails pinched and pulled at her pierced nipple. She bit her
lower lip, giving a longer groan, and then he gasped, as she thrust fully
against him, holding herself in place, while her entire body spasmed. He felt
her pubic muscles contracting rhythmically, spastically, and the milking
sensation coaxing his second climax along as well.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to hold off, his big hands slipping beneath her
buttocks, intent on lifting her free of his explosion. She whimpered, leaning
forward, and clamping her knees almost painfully against his thighs.

"But there's no..." he tried to say, as his voice was strained.

"Mmmmm hmmm." she husked, her lips against his ear, "I know... I want you...
to cum... inside of me... mark me, Jim. Make me yours."

Shocked at such an image, he lost control, flooding her cunt with his second
load. It wasn't the end though. After they showered, she put on some music and
they danced together naked, losing themselves in the moment. And when his
erection returned, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, and
making love to her, the way he had with his wife long years before.

Neither considered the change in the way they were approaching pleasure. And
while it was yet again different from the spent passion of the hour before, it
was at least as fulfilling. He marveled at the tone of her body, the way she
responded to each thrust and shift. She spurred him on, when he needed to move
faster, and welcomed the harder thrusts, as his climax approached. He felt her
shudder in her own release several times, never pausing while sharing herself
with him, and seeming never too spent to continue. Even when they'd finished,
she absently fingered her pussy, as she lay there close to him, their labored
breathing easing.

"You can't stay?" he heard himself ask.

She brought a hand up to tease the sparse, tightly curled hair on his chest.

"I can. I just have to be careful." she replied.

"I don't understand>" and he didn't. How could she stay out, if her husband
didn't know?

"If you'll wait, I'll come back. But I have to leave. I have to get my things."

"Those aren't your things?" he asked, remembering that she'd mentioned having
to change, but assumed that she wore her own clothing. The situation grew
stranger and stranger, but at the same time, he felt a familiar tingle. Not of
sexual arousal, but intuition. He was close to something important. There was
something close to a giggle before she answered.

"No. Though you may be disappointed with the 'real' me." she giggled.

He pulled her close in his arms. "That's not possible. The only disappointment
that I feel, is the thought of having to share you with anyone else." he
blinked, wondering where had that come from?

Melissa didn't react, and sure she'd heard, he guessed that she'd chose to
ignore it, as a typical John bluster.

"What can I do?"

"Well... You could walk me to the lobby. I have to walk... I have to go back
to leave these clothes, and to get my things. Then I have to find someplace
safe to leave my car."

"The garage here is monitored..." 

"No." she smiled, touching his arm, "I mean someplace where my, um, my manager
won't see me. I could get in trouble otherwise."

'and not from your husband?' he wondered to himself.

"Would it be better to go someplace else?" he asked.

"You'd do that?" she replied.

He laughed, "To spend more time with you? I'm already trying to decide how to
win you away from your, um, manager."

There was a strange light in her eyes, as she looked up at him, but suddenly
it changed, the fear that he'd seen earlier, was rushing back. Her expression
grew hooded.

"You're too good." she whispered, pushing up suddenly, and groping for her
clothes with one hand, as she leaned over the edge of the bed, shielding her
breasts from his gaze with the other arm. She tottered, and Jordan almost
reached out to help her, but sensed that the last thing she could stand at
that moment was his touch. The woman was a study in contradictions.

"Oh God!" she said, seeming on the verge of tears, "I told myself that I
wouldn't let it happen again. I wouldn't do anything to make it any worse..."

As he watched with growing alarm, tears began to run down her pretty face,
streaking the already sex-smeared make-up grotesquely. 

"I don't..."

"Please don't tell Tom that I did anything wrong... I didn't try to sneak
around behind his back. Please, I'll do anything!" she begged, her face paled
despite the make-up, as she rocked backward, both arms hugging her chest, "Oh
God, I'm making it worse."

She stumbled from the bed, into the bathroom. He heard her gag, heard the
toilet flush, and then the shower went on again. He waited for a minute before
padding to the open bathroom door. She had the curtain closed, but he saw that
she was curled up in a ball at one end of the tub. 

"Melissa?" he paused, unsure of what to say, "What did I do? What did you do?
I don't understand." he said, opening the curtain, and then repeating the
question, as he bent down to lift her out of the tub. She shivered violently,
her pale wet skin feeling hot against his. At that moment though, the last
thing on his mind was sex, something was terribly wrong.

"Shhh, Missy," he soothed, "It's OK... I'm not telling anyone anything. Why
would I do anything to jeopardize more time with you?"

She shook her head violently, but didn't try to escape his embrace. Still
murmuring supportively, he carried her back into the bedroom. Keeping her
cradled on his naked lap, holding her against his chest with one arm, he
reached for the room phone, then thought better of it, selecting instead his
cell phone.

Trapping the tiny unit against his ear with his shoulder, he paged through the
tattered yellow pages, selecting the Doubletree Inn, at the far south end of
the city. Rocking her slightly, he made the reservation for two, making up a
name on the spot, Hinder. After hanging up, he stood up, carrying the tiny
blonde back into the bathroom to retrieve a towel. Melissa made no move to
escape, as he gently toweled her dry. But she didn't speak, either.

Wordlessly, she dressed, seeming unable to look at him, as she did so. She
picked up her clutch purse from where it lay by the door, and reached for the
knob without looking back, but he closed the distance between them, laying
a big palm flat against the thin wood of the door, holding it closed.

"Melissa? We have to talk about this."

She trembled visibly then, but nodded. Jordan hated the total defeat that he
read in her posture. What could so terrify such a beautiful, spirited woman?
He kept in physical contact with her, as she returned to the bed. Her eyes
strayed to the clock.

"I have to get going." she murmured. There was renewed fear in her voice,
something different though, in her eyes.

"OK... You already told me that. You have to get your things, whatever that
means. And you don't want your pimp," he didn't try to ease the impact of his
words, "to know we're going to be together." She nodded. "But then you'll meet
me at the Doubletree?" There was a long pause, then a tiny nod.

"I won't do anything to hurt you Melissa." and she gave him only a slightly
better nod in response. "I don't know how I can prove it to you, but I'll find
a way. I want to know what it is that scares you so much." he let her feel his
muscles bunch, "I hate that anyone, or anything could do that to you. I know
that I couldn't do anything to hurt you now. Not if I knew it would hurt you.
So please?.. I hope you'll come and stay with me tonight."

There was no visible response, but his long experience of studying people told
him that pushing any harder would only scare her off. Instead, he hurriedly
dressed, thankful that the gun had remained undetected but unwilling to leave
it behind, due to the way that she was acting. He walked with her to the
elevator, agonizing over the strained atmosphere in the same elevator in which
she'd been unable to wait to have him a couple hours before.

He wanted to hold her hand, to offer her what reassurance he could, but he
stopped dutifully when she did, at the hotel's automated revolving door. She
licked her lips, glancing around nervously. 

"I hope you had a good time, sir." The saccharine smile, and tone of a whore
almost made him wince, as he nodded his agreement. "You were as good as gold,
sugar."

He managed, praying that she was acting, in case there were eyes upon them.
"I'm still not sure that I've had enough of you. I may have to talk to ol'
Michael, and get you back again sometime soon."

"Whatever you want, sir. Have a good night." she said, as she turned, exiting
through the door and turning right, toward the apartment complex next door. Of
course, he knew roughly where she was headed, but the night had left him with
far more questions than answers. And a new urgency to resolve the questions
that he had.



                                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.



                                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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