Yasmeen Ambavor stood above the hotel dresser and crossed item after item from her list. Caterer, check. Flowers, check. Dress fitting, check.
Two boxes, both white, sat on her bed. Simple strings cut the box-covers into quadrants. The card on the smaller of the two read "For the bride, before the wedding".
She stretched in the mirror, her white sweater a stark contrast to olive skin. Dark eyes against ivory teeth, tight jeans, and sandals. She ran a finger through jet black hair and smiled. Exactly one week until the wedding, and the list nearly covered. She could rationalize burning a weekend at the shore with her maid of honor. Once Yas was married, and especially after Karen's spring ceremony, they both knew their lives would split in different directions. An unspoken agreement to avoid the subject hovered in the beach air.
As Yasmeen reached for the boxes a weak gasp filtered through the hotel wall.
"Karen?" she said, moving quickly toward the connecting door. A woman burst throug with a sheet of paper, more like a scroll, clutched in her right hand. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her hair, usually kept and gorgeous, was tangled in her left hand's fingers. Whatever disturbed her obviously commenced while she was dressing--only a black bra and panties covered her smooth skin.
"Karen, what's the matter? Are you ok?"
"Did you get them? Did you get them too?" Her eyes scanned the room and settled on the pair of white boxes.
"Did I get what, Karen? Calm down. You're scaring me."
"No...I don't think I want to go over there. Yas...he's back. He's fucking back! They told us he wasn't going to find us, but he's fucking back!"
"Who's back?" Yasmeen said. A moment passed before her face froze. She recoiled from Karen as if her maid of honor were a leper.
"No. He can't be."
"The..boxes...look in the boxes."
Yasmeen backed away even further, careful to avoid the plain containers on her bed.
"This must be some sort of sick joke, Karen. He's in prison. Dr. Remington said we wouldn't have to worry about him ever again. He can't be in Jersey. We would have heard. Didn't they send him to, like, Kansas or someplace? And how would he have found us?"
Karen sunk to the floor, crying, makeup running in her tears.
"What are we going to do?" she said.
"Listen," replied Yasmeen, "You remember what the doctor said. He said we were like addicts. That.....we were addicted to Peter, somehow, they weren't sure how, but we had fought the addiction and broken free. Even if he was here...we wouldn't have to..." Her voice trailed off into silence.
Karen's eyes seemed to glaze over. Still sitting in the doorway, she raised the note to her eyes. She began to speak, her voice shaking, cracking, stuttering.
"Read this to Yasmeen if she resists," Karen began. " Yasmeen, you were
always the stronger of the pair, despite Karen's tough persona. But you
won't be able to fight the program. Do you think the neural pathways I
created in your mind just go away? Once I open them again, they'll widen
until the pleasure you get from me will envelope your conciousness. Karen
knows the path. She'll remember the Beta House rules. You can't resist,
Yasmeen. You can't resist."
"You can't resist."
Yasmeen knelt in the center of the Beta Sorority House's living room. Behind her Karen, her best friend, stood with another girl in front of a rack of green leather leggings. They discussed Karen's figure, her legs and ass, before choosing a pair and moving to a hall mirror. In the corner of her mind Yasmeen knew this was strange. Karen was an ardent feminist. She listened to the Indigo Girls, marched for women's rights, and bitched when guys tried to hold doors for her. Her closet in the dorm was filled with loose jeans, flower print dresses, and ugly sneakers. Green leather wasn't her style.
The man in front of Yasmeen snapped his fingers twice. He was overweight and nearly bald. How did a person her age, freshman year, lose his hair so young? These strange conversations seemed to occur between two halves of Yasmeen, she noticed, but neither half could move a muscle. She could comprehend, without looking down, that she wore only white cotton panties.
"Yasmeen, this is our twentieth session. Our last. The programming is complete. Who are you?"
"I am your slave. I am one of the Beta Sisters, the sorority dedicated to your service. I live for your comfort. Someday I will bear you children. Now, I am to make sure you are always sated in all of your appetites."
"Decent response. Do you remember who I am?"
"You are Peter Gates. My Master. You chose me from Chem Lab and had the Beta Sisters recruit me. Then you met my roommate, Karen, and she joined the sorority as well."
"How did you feel about me before the programming started."
"Indifferent."
Peter laughed. "And how do you feel about me now?"
"Devoted. Totally."
"Good girl. Janice will help you with your styling. When you're done, come here for inspection. But remember who you are. Whenever you hear me, or one of your sisters, say the phrase 'you can't resist', a feeling of renewal will envelope you. That devotion will return. If the phrase is combined with the touch of either me or one of your sisters, the devotion will intensify to an almost painful state. Don't forget what I'm saying. Now, go see the stylist."
A hand touched her shoulder, and Yasmeen stood. Janice, one of the seniors,
was especially good with outfits. She held a purple thong up to Yasmeen.
Peter smiled.
Yasmeen shut her eyes tightly. "Karen...listen. We have to help each other through this. We have to get help. How far are we away from the clinic? An hour? Dr. Remington said if the deprogramming ever slipped we should call him. Do...do you remember his number?"
"You should see what's in your boxes, Yasmeen. I already opened mine."
"Karen, I don't want to see what's in the boxes. I can tell you're breaking. Snap out of it! The clothes. No, don't tell me what was in your boxes."
Karen stood and almost smiled. "He's right, Yasmeen. You can't resist."
"Karen...KAREN! Stop. You know we can fight this. Remember all the role plays? Group therapy? We can do this, we can do this!"
"We can do this..." Karen whispered, and slid into Yasmeen's arms. Her best friend pushed her away.
"Karen, you know what he did to us! He had us working on each other, strengthening his hold by having us in bed with each other all day! Breaking our defenses down. Fucking stop!"
"My little box had green spandex. Tight shorts, tight top, and nothing else. The other box had boots. Green leather. I wonder what color he picked for you?"
"Stop it, Karen...stop it....please Karen...stop it...shit..."
"I bet he picked purple. He always liked his little Yas in purple."
Yasmeen rode her customer like a pro. He was a little smelly, over sixty, probably paying for the trick with his pension check. Her dress, purple leather, lay crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. She was sore but bit her lip through the pain. The old man was her last trick of the night, and what was pain, anyway, if it meant Peter would make a little more money?
The old man grunted and shot his fluid into the condom. She climbed
from his lap, smiled, and kissed him goodnight. He snuck out the back door,
like most customers, and slipped into darkness. As Yas stepped into the
shower forty police spotlights illuminated the Beta House yard.
Karen touched her fingers to the string on the boxes. "Here. I'll open it for you."
Yasmeen collapsed into a heap in the corner. She covered her eyes with her left arm and reached out with her right hand. "Karen, it's not too late, remember my wedding, remember your wedding. Remember Brad. Remember therapy."
"Fuck therapy." she replied, opening the first box. "Purple leather boots. I was right. Hmmm...I wonder what's in the other one? Purple spandex. We'll be like a matched set again, Yas. Remember what he used to call us? Salt and Pepper? His blonde and brunette? Those were good times, Yas, weren't they?"
"Leave me alone, Karen, leave me alone!"
Karen approached her best friend and knelt before her. "I wouldn't have met him if it weren't for you anyway, Yasmeen. Remember that."
Karen reached forward and dried Yasmeen's tears with a purple spandex top. She leaned forward and touched her lips to her best friend's mouth.
"You can't resist." she whispered.
The deprogramming was too painful to remember. Over two years Dr. Remington
brought the Beta Girls back to their own wills. The Beta Girls only vaguely
remembered their college years. Close to four hundred thousand dollars
were in Pete's bank account, so the police knew they had been busy, but
details were scarce. Extortion. Prostitution. Simple theft. Each girl had
secured her parents' riches into Peter's name. The girls knew, instinctively,
that Peter couldn't get his procedure to work on other men, so they brainwashed
their mothers and testified at the divorce trials. They accused their fathers
of vile, twisted acts. A spike in Nostrum County's divorce proceedings,
a red flag to the FBI, was Peter's mistake. Two years after the sting,
Yasmeen and Karen waved goodbye to Dr. Remington and went back to college.
All they knew of Peter were Dr. Remington's assurances that "the goverment
had handled it."
Karen reached down and slid the jeans from her best friend's legs. Yasmeen didn't fight. She tried to stay still, very still, but Karen gently raised each foot and slipped on the spandex panties. The bra was in place moments later, and Yasmeen found herself helping Karen finish lacing the boots. A few minutes in the other room, and the pair, a matching set, stood before the mirror. Mirrored sunglasses hid emotionless eyes. Yasmeen combed Karen's blonde hair clean to her shoulders. Her own locks fell a little further, shining black against the purple bra. Out of curiosity, Yasmeen picked up the note that lay in her box:
"Read this to Karen if she resists."
The pair laughed, took each other's hands, and walked to the elevator.
"What, you just break out, like, four days ago, and already you're paying for whores? What the fuck is that?"
Fat Jimmy peered across the smoke at the Brain. That's what the underworld called Peter for as long as anyone could remember. Behind the Brain stood two amazons, one blonde, one brunette, in two colors of spandex.
They looked like cheerleaders for opposing teams. The sunglasses were a nice touch. Jimmy noticed they didn't seem to smile much. Just stood, like bodyguards, watching the card game.
"Who said I paid for them? You raise, or you out?"
Jimmy threw down his cards. "Out. You're telling me you picked up two...strippers...or whatever, in forty-eight hours after you skip lock-up? Bullshit."
The hand finished, and the Brain collected the pot. He put down his cards.
"Tell you what, Jimmy," he said, "If I paid these girls for the night, would I be sitting here playing cards with you?"
"I don't know what you'd do, " Jimmy replied, "but I wouldn't be playing cards if those bitches were mine."
"Let me ask you something else. If these were whores, I mean whores I paid for, would they fuck you? Could I let you get a blow job? Like a prostitution sublet?"
Jimmy ran a finger across his stubbly chin. "I never heard of that before. Guess not. Maybe. Whores are whores. All they care about is getting paid."
Brain rubbed his eyes. "Let's take a break. A few minutes before next deal, ok, guys? A break." He lit a cigarette and waited until only he and Fat Jimmy were seated at the table.
"How much money you got, Jimmy?"
Jimmy pushed his hat back and glared across the table. "None of your fucking business."
Brain laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on rolling you. C'mon, you know I'm not a strong arm."
"Then how'd you break out of prison?"
"Inside job. A guard...uh...had his eye on one of the female guards, and I arranged a...introduction."
"I still ain't telling you how much I got."
Brain sat back and sipped his coffee. He pulled out another cigarette, and the girl in green lit the tip of his smoke.
"Let's look at this logically, Jimmy. I'm on the run for, what is it, two days. I need some cash. So I call up some...old friends....and play some cards. My fellow players, I think, may need some...entertainment. I provide entertainment."
Jimmy looked each girl up and down. They didn't seem to react to the Brain's words.
"How much for the entertainment?"
Brain laughed. "How much you got?"
"Two hundred for the blonde. No, the brunette. The purple one. Why the fuck are they wearing wedding rings?"
Each girl dropped her ring into Brain's palm. "Don't worry about the rings. For how long? Yas is for rent, not for sale. At least for now."
"Two hours."
"You, my friend, have got yourself a deal. Yas, take the man's money."
Yas smiled and took the folded bills from the overweight slob in front of her. Her legs seemed to tremble, Jimmy noticed, but her eyes, behind sunglasses, remained impassive. She took his hand and led him to a room down the hall from Brain's place. A light from a convenience store sign illuminated her dusky body as she slid from the purple spandex. Later, as she moved above him, her sunglasses off, her body sheathed in sweat, Jimmy gave in to the pleasure. When she finished, she kissed him and slid out of the room. A pro. The spandex outfit was rumpled under her arm. A business card lay on the dresser. Jimmy stood naked and read the black print
in the windowlight.
"Beta Girls Forever--call 555-1146. Ask for Yasmeen."
Jimmy pocketed the card and watched the traffic stutter through Atlantic
City. Dawn broke over the beach.
Yasmeen slipped back into the big room, but the card game was over. Karen was between Brain's legs, sucking him off, while he counted his money.
"So, when's the wedding?" He didn't raise his eyes from the cash.
"Next Saturday," Yasmeen replied.
"Good. No pre-nup, right?"
"No pre-nup."
"I'll get a divorce lawyer ready. Bastard rich?"
"Very. He's a stockbroker."
"Where'd you meet him?"
"Therapy."
The Brain raised his eyes and stopped counting. He laughed out loud.
Tapping Karen on the head, he motioned Yasmeen to come over.
"Karen, get out and make me some cash. Yas, go take a shower. Wash the smell of that fat-ass off of you. Karen tells me you gave her a little problem back at the hotel." He leaned forward and gave Yasmeen a long, slow kiss. Her face flushed red, a sigh escaped from her lips, and her clothes fell to the floor. "Clean up. I'll be in the room. I know it's morning, but you won't be sleeping for a while. Don't forget, darling...you can't resist."
Yasmeen practically ran to the shower.