This short story is an entry in the 2002 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: First/Last
Skip Tracer
By
Mara Maharakshasa <MaraMahaRakshasa@aol.com>
It was raining in Los Angeles. Understatement: It had rained for nearly forty days.
I remember it well, the El Nino winter of 2002-3. A series of storms rolled through, bringing huge rainfall, erosion, mudslides, flooded freeways, power outages, total chaos. Would it never stop? Driving around was like being in a tiny submersible, sloshing through the streets, with the leaden skies racing overhead. Even at midday, the light was a strange, strained greenish-yellow.
It was another job for Moloch. Another skip tracer gig.
"It's my stepdaughter, again," Moloch's owner Clyde Messerschmidt had told me by phone. "Floriana? She ran away last night. I'm sure she'll head for California again. Probably LA."
"Okay. I have all the data from last time. I'll get her."
Last time, she'd masqueraded as an assistant in a Rodeo Drive boutique, with forged papers. I'd caught up with her at an elevator in a parking garage and harpooned her, right there.
I felt sure she would try something different this time.
That's why Moloch uses me: I think for myself.
A week of driving around South LA finds her. No point showing photos: Her face is a dime a dozen in the barrio. She's waitressing at an unlicensed bodega. I decide that I'll closely shadow her, then harpoon her in the car park after work.
Something makes me curious, though. Twice? Running away from one of America's richest men? Something smells like over- ripe ceviche here. For my $50,000 fee, I shouldn't care. But, I do.
So, I show up at the bodega late the next evening, unshaven and 'dressed greasy.' Another yanqui who likes blaring salsa and cheap Dos Equis.
She's assigned to my booth. She glances suspiciously at me, but says nothing.
At the end of the shift, I wave her over.
"Sit down, Floriana," I say.
She flinches, goes to run away.
"The needlegun is aimed right at you. You won't get two yards," I say in a low voice. It's true. These tranq darts are very powerful.
She subsides into the chair.
"It is you. Why did he send you after me again?"
"You're his beloved stepdaughter," I explain. "He's worried about your wild ways."
"What!?" she gasps, her eyes bugging out. "What gave you that idea? The bastard!"
"Oh? What's the deal then?" I ask.
"Stepdaughter? Shit! Well, if I am, he has a harem of us.
Tucked away at his weekend mansion in the Cascades."
I raise my eyebrows.
"We're his sex slaves. He's a total pervert!"
"Good story, Floriana."
"No, it's true! I can prove it! He uses us in S&M games, beats us, does horrible things. Films it all." She's quite frantic. It could be the truth.
"Proof?"
She looks around, then hoists her thin sweater. There are red lines on her breasts, bite marks. "And you should see my ass!"
"Then show me."
She does. It's welted, bruised.
Hey, Messerschmidt is my kind of guy!
But I smell big-buck blackmail opportunities. And some fun with Floriana, too.
The End
© Copyright by Mara Maharakshasa, 2002. All rights are reserved by the author. Do not retransmit, store (except for personal use) or publish without permission.
Reviews
John <johnb(at)ssec(dot)wisc(dot)edu>
Ooh, what a mean, mean man. This story is very alive. I can hear the rain, smell the smoke, see the girl. The pace seems unhurried yet the words are carefully chosen to pack a lot of story into a small space, and the ending comes at you with a splat.
Dyke Grrl <dyke.grrl(at)verizon(dot)net>
Your private eye character comes through clearly here, and the descriptions at the beginning set the mood well. This story could probably have filled several times the amount of space you had, but the plot is well-designed.
Kate <ecattiva(at)aol(dot)com>
This was one of the better uses of the first-last line. It sets a definite mood which is carried well throughout the entire story. The narrator is deliciously horrible!
MollyB <mollyb(at)newsguy(dot)com>
Interesting set up for a story, but with a loathsome narrator.