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From: "Rogue Alan" <RogueAlan@cox.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Girls' Nightmare Out (Complete) (Revised)
Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2003 05:10:03 -0500
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Girls' Nightmare Out (complete)		
Rogue Alan, 11/0-9/02, revision 2/03

(tattoo/piercing; cheat; stranger; interracial; gang bang;
exhibitionism; anal; prostitution; bondage; lesbianism; mind
control; rape)

	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 dim awareness of
some discomfort. There were aches all over, as if she'd been
working out especially hard the day before, but there was
something. 
	She blinked her eyes, looking around the familiar room, much
more bright than it should have been in the morning. She checked
the clock: 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, scanning her naked body, eyes still bleary with
sleep. Something glittered over her breast, at her left nipple. 
	She was aware belatedly that the vague discomfort was emanating
from there. She blinked again, struggled 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. How had that happened? She covered her face and tried to
recall the events of the past night. She'd been with Kathy, on
their weekly 'girls' night out.' She remembered leaving-she'd
driven-but after that... Nothing. 
	There was no other sound 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, though; her bladder was complaining, so
she pushed the covers back and rolled to her feet, staggering
into the bathroom. Her breath caught as her feet touched the cold
tile, and she pranced to the mat by her vanity, looking at her
torso in the mirror, then down at the real thing. 
	The bright silver ring entered 1 side of her left nipple,
emerging from the other and dropping 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 and shifted the ring. There was a drop of something clear and
hard on the bead, and a little experimentation convinced her it
would be better not to try to remove it, as manipulating it hurt,
and it didn't look like the ring was going to come out of the
bead very easily. 
	Stepping back, she admitted privately it didn't look bad,
keeping her usually flat nipple semi-erect, capping the firm,
round breast nicely. She wondered what her husband would say. And
what 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,
fingers absently moving through her pubic thatch, which she found
had areas of hairs matted together in small tangles, as if she
hadn't cleaned up after sex. 
	More shocking, though, as she brought the toilet paper between
her legs to wipe, was something hard, nestled between her labia.
Melissa flipped the lights on, peering between her legs. She was
shocked again, more deeply than before, to find a 2nd silver ring
hanging from the mid-portion of her right inner labia. She also
noticed the sparse whitish flakes coating her inner thighs, and
that suddenly, the aching she felt and the fullness in her belly
took on a new, horrific meaning. 
	She leapt up, throwing the shower on and barely waiting for the
water to get hot before hurling herself into the tiny stall. She
pulled the handheld showerhead off of the wall, bringing the
steaming spray to her sex. She washed her crotch thoroughly if
gently-the ring in her labia was more tender than that in her
nipple-trying to deny that there were globs of semen flushing
from her vaginal canal. 
	She couldn't ask her husband if they'd had sex, desperately
hoping they had, even if she'd been asleep. Suddenly
apprehensive, she climbed dripping from the shower, retrieving a
hand held mirror from the vanity, then climbed back into the
relative seclusion of the shower to check for any other changes.
There were no hickies, scratches, or other marks. She heaved a
sigh of relief, though the fear remained; what had she done?! 
	She climbed out and was toweling 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 Kathy
was cheating on him; he ranted about how she'd said she was out
with you, but she'd come home with a pierced nipple and another
ring in her pussy." He smiled, "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 2, herself. 
	"Well, it's a little sore right now; I'll let you know," she
dried between her legs carefully, shivering at the morning's
events. "Um, when did I get in?"
	"Dunno. I was asleep. You 2 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 take a cab next time, OK?" 
	She nodded, a mixture of relief and anxiety roiling in her
stomach. She could really drink, she knew, but she'd never been
so drunk she couldn't remember things. And she didn't drive when
she was drunk; a couple times they'd taken cabs home. 
	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. She went
through the bedding, looked in the bathroom and under the bed,
but found nothing. The matching bra lay beside the hamper. 
	She dressed, opting after the 1st contact of panties with the
ring in her pussy not to wear any, and wisely foregoing 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 and she wouldn't worry about them. 
	Dressed and feeling almost whole, if aware of the different
sensation at her left breast, Melissa poured herself a cup of
coffee and made sure 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 Fred was as understanding as her
husband had been about what they'd done. 
	He was clearly more uptight than Jeff, which seemed strange,
considering Kathy was outrageously easy going compared to
herself. The phone rang twice-Kathy always waited for the caller
ID to identify a caller-then Kathy picked up. 
	"Mel?" 
	"Yeah. Um, can you tell me what happened last night?" There was
a long pause. 
	"I was hoping 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 either. 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 that he
thought it was sexy when we saw 1 on a 'night time cable' show,
but I told him there was no way I was going to do that. And the
2nd ring... I can't believe 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
consider it. 
	"I can't believe it. I mean, for both of us to... but then I
look down, and who'd have guessed 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 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 she wanted. 
	"Tell you what," Kathy sounded more in control of herself and
the situation to Melissa's relief. "You check the club; see what
people know. I'll check at this tattoo place. We'll meet for
lunch." Melissa 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 Melissa had a hard time
getting onto the drive. 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 clue as to what had
happened Friday night. There were none. She shook her head
angrily-Jeff had pointed out 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'd 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 Kathy had described to the tattoo parlor; barely legible
writing noting 'tit/lip special' and something she couldn't
decipher. 
	There was also a receipt from a bar 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 on 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 1
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 she
knew.
	She saw Erica, a weeknight waitress filling napkin dispensers,
and after exchanging a somewhat awkward greeting, Melissa
haltingly explained that she and Kathy couldn't remember all that
they'd done the night before and were hoping to find some
answers. Erica laughed that she'd been 'at other bars' the night
before, but told Melissa to wait, and walked over to the guys
behind the bar. 
	Melissa watched as Erica spoke, and felt a wave or relief when 1
of the 2 nodded. The other said something to Erica, then, and the
waitress shook her head, talking for another moment, and
indicating a height with her hand, Melissa guessed she was
describing Kathy. Again the 1st man nodded, while the second
shrugged but agreed. Erica turned, a strange expression on her
face. She hurried back and motioned for Melissa to sit in the
booth she'd been working. 
	"Steve and Greg worked the bar last night. They say you and your
friend were in about 9." 
	"That'd be about right," Melissa nodded, "What's wrong?" The
waitress' expression was increasingly worrisome. 
	"Well, I told them I think they're thinking of different women,
'cause I know you're both married and just come to unwind."
Melissa nodded. Erica shrugged, "They insist you had a drink with
a guy they'd never seen before, and a bit later all 3 of you
left. Greg thinks it wasn't even 10, yet." 
	Melissa nodded, trying not to show any emotion. She waited,
hiding her hands beneath the table so Erica wouldn't see they
were shaking. 
	"That's not all they said, is it?" Erica blushed, but shook her
head. 
	"Nope. They said you 2 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 all right but not great." She
smiled, "In fact, they said the only reason they noticed was that
he was black, and was leaving with the 2 best looking women in
the place." 
	Something in Melissa's expression must have concerned the
younger woman, because she reached across the table, gripping
Melissa's hand gently.
"Is something wrong?" Melissa managed to shake her head, mumbling
her thanks, and telling Erica they'd remember her help the next
time they were in. The sprightly girl smiled, "Don't worry, you 2
are some of my best customers."
Melissa tried to smile in reply as she stood. She managed not to
look at the bartenders, who were still watching her, as she
hurried outside and to her car. Seated behind the wheel, she sat
shaking for several moments, amazed at what she'd 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 2nd bar to which she'd found the receipt. 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 themes. 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 on the overhead rack in preparation for the
night'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 2 shoulda got arrested." 
	"I'm sorry," Melissa stammered again, blushing fiercely, "I'm
just... My friend and I? We don't know exactly what happened last
night. I was hoping you could..." The man shook his head. 
	"I shoulda known. Tried something new, last night? Booze ain't
enough to get you up anymore? You waltzed in with this big black
guy, had a couple drinks, and flirted with the bartenders and
waitresses both. That's cool; we expect that. I don't even mind
when you get up on the tables to dance if you're good, and you 2
were. But I can't have you flashing your tits in here. And I
certainly can't tolerate public sex acts." 
	"Public sex acts!" Melissa's 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
out here. It's bad enough when you people use the bathroom for
your quickies..." His tone softened as he saw Melissa 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. So we want you back... just not acting like that."
Melissa nodded, her voice sounding tiny as she spoke.
	"Uhm, was there anything... unusual about our flashing people on
the tables?" The guy stopped wiping the glass and stared at her
as if he hadn't heard. She blushed more deeply, "I mean did you
see did we have any strange rings or piercings... or anything?"
The guy shook his head. 
	"Honey, if you're that far gone, you need 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." Melissa's 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 he wasn't
saying, 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
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 Melissa was surprised to see that she'd been
crying. 
	"What's wrong?" she had a sudden fear she didn't know the worst
of it. Kathy shook her head, waiting until the hovering waiter
took Melissa's drink order and disappered. 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
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. "He said... he told me we'd come in asking for
'matching work.' The guy with us suggested we should get clit
rings, but when the guy in the studio mentioned there was a sale
on 'tits and lips'-doing a nipple and labia ring-the guy said
that sounded good and we agreed. He showed me where we signed. No
waver or nothing; it's our signatures." 
"Oh, God," Melissa mumbled, aware that her friend was
corroborating what she'd learned. 
"That's not all," Kathy took a deep breath, "We said we wanted
'permanent closures'." 
"What?" 
"Permanent closures. Had you noticed the clear stuff on the thick
part of the rings?" Melissa nodded. "That's epoxy; it's like
Super Glue. It fused the ring so it can only be cut off." She
looked around again, and shivered. 
"and we also made a down payment for tattoos. The guy with us
said 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 we'd 'seemed fine'
to him. The pig. He laughed that 'our lover' wanted us to get the
piercings on opposite sides so he could 'tell us apart in the
dark.' He said 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 2'." 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 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
they'd stayed protected. 
	The women were silent through much of lunch, each trying to come
to grips with what had happened. How could mothers and devoted
wives get in such trouble for going out for a couple drinks.
Melissa tried not to think about what could happen if her husband
learned of what had really happened. Or 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 she behaved like
that routinely. Looking at her friend, Melissa 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" but weighing only 140#, a willowy figure who still
managed enough bust to attract attention, and whose legs and ass
even Melissa found attractive. 
Melissa 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", weighing 115#. In contrast to her friend's
jet black bob and appraising clear grey eyes, Melissa's blonde
hair reached the small of her back, and her bright green eyes
were more guarded. Melissa had the larger chest, though neither
was top-heavy by any standard. Melissa 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 lingering over
their 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. "But then I tell myself I don't want to remember. I
mean, ignorance is bliss, right? We aren't sure we did anything."
Melissa eyed her friend. 
"I had dried cum in my crotch this morning, Kathy. If it wasn't
Jeff." 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. 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. 
"But that's rule 1: no drinks from strangers. We never do that!"
Kathy nodded, then shrugged. "So what do we do, now?" Melissa
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 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 home." Melissa nodded;
as usual her friend was making sense. "Just think of the rings
and the tattoo payment as a lesson in why we have to be careful."
The women paid the outrageous bill, then spent a blissful hour
shopping before 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 the 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. 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
piercinigs 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 they'd managed to mostly avoid.

Part II 
	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
slightly, 'thinking' small as it was. He kept a fresh Ginger Ale
in 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 out of country-clients. For nearly 15y he'd been
finding willing young women to go on stage and expose themselves
for dollar tips, but in the last 5y he'd developed a more
specialized, if unadvertised, service. 
	He was a man who could 'get' a woman for a buyer. They need only
provide 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 1st 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 2y 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 they did
outrageous things, the women invariably tried to ignore whatever
had happened to them. None 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 seemed to consider that he might have done things
to... 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... never 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 he'd left behind, and to begin to spread his 'service'
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 he'd previously tagged,
and so was looking for potential trouble. He knew it was the 1st
time they'd returned 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 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 2
fingers and a $10 spot. A minute later, he sauntered to the table
where his women-he already thought of them that way-were sitting,
nearly empty pina coladas before them on the table. 
	"Hello, ladies," he'd 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 to give
him time to add the healthy doses of crushed Rohypnol to each
glass, "The bartender says you're regulars," the spiel was easy
so long as no real waiter happened by, "and this is tonight's
special: the Blue Hawaii. Compliments of the bar," he waved in
the direction of the bar, confident the bartender was busy and
having waited until their waitress was busy elsewhere. 
"That's OK," the brunette began, clearly intent on refusing. He
waved her off. 
"Seriously. Please. You're the prettiest women here. And the
folks who ordered this left. Rick and I can't drink them..." he
forced a smile 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 in his jacket-2 envelopes with the
women's names, addresses, and other pertinent information hand
written on the outside. 
	Instead, the blonde shrugged, taking 1 of the drinks from the
tray as she told him thanks. Her friend-Kathy-followed, and
waving farewell at 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
nametag 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 was 1st, and Tom took the opportunity to swing by,
again posing as their waiter-the lack of a visible nametag
wouldn't alert either woman any longer. The 1st 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 timing 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 the evening had
been, and anticipating more such enjoyment. Reaching their table,
he checked that their waitress wasn't nearby or interested and
said, '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 to the
bar, where he purchased 3 more drinks, dosing each as he circled
the bar and avoiding the real wait 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 he'd get loopy
in these drinks, but he wanted to remain clear headed, and he had
to get the ladies a little higher to really obey him. 
	Instead of leaving their drinks at the table as he'd done
before, Tom sat down beside the blonde and slid the drinks in
front of each before leaning back to look at them. "Damn, but you
2 are something," he said appreciatively. The blonde leaned away
from him slightly. 
"Look, thanks, but we don't take drinks from other people." The
blonde's 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 took a
healthy drink from each glass 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' a minute ago? I figured you'd at least let me sit here
during my break for a minute or 2." The brunette eyed him warily
but did not speak. 
"Look, I saw you 2 in here the other day... maybe a month ago.
You didn't have a problem leaving with a black guy that night,"
he dangled 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 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
on the club scene; I'd heard he deals in crank and some of the
other illicit pharm, 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 taking a healthy
drink. He watched, trying to gauge their reactions, then looked
around. 
"He's been here off and on the last couple 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
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
increasing stretches. 
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. 
He checked to be sure the wait staff weren't paying them any
attention, glad again that he worked with pairs of women. It made
the people in a bar less suspicious when it was more than 1 woman
leaving with him, as well as making the women interdependent- if
1 screwed up, they both had trouble. And it was a built in cover
for their time working for him. 
He maneuvered 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 without question, then
had them climb in and donning 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,
going not toward the Edge, but north to the Municipal Airport.
The change 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
homes that Melissa had 'won' a weekend getaway for two good that
weekend only, and so they'd flown out. And each promised their
husband a 'boys' weekend' soon. 
After that, it was a simple matter to get them aboard the small
business jet. On board were a few of Tom's 'friends'-his
steadiest customers. Each had paid handsomely to help in assuring
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 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 take-off, 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 standing naked in the narrow aisle, and he
had them turn, getting nice close-ups of each woman in all her
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." That was the signal
for his friends; they quickly moved 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 1st 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 lay in the aisle, eating each other clean. 
Then, shortly before they began the descent into Vegas, the
tattoo artist went to work. The man had demanded Tom pay for the
portable equipment when Tom had approached him with his 'business
proposal,' but it had been well worth it. The guy got a 'free
ride' on these flights, but he provided advance notice
if-when-the women Tom 'recruited' were searching for him, as
these had. And his work was truly 1st class. 
Tom prepped each woman off camera, after which they sauntered to
the tiny 'studio' set up at 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 1st, offering the page 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 with 1
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 the chair,
ready for the agreed upon fuck, and letting the tat be placed
down by their pubes. The occasional, especially willful woman
chose an ankle or back or breast. Both of his newest recruits
obediently reclined in the provided seat, spreading their legs
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
trow, 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 1 rule-to protect his investment-was that the men helping
him break his new whores in not fool around on the side; the last
thing he needed was to get any of his women infected with some
STD. That had been difficult at 1st, since there weren't many
women, but with almost 45 women working for him directly, and
another 7 or 8 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 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 to a waiting limo, which whisked them into the city,
and a prepared suite. 
Once there, he again had them strip, then fucked each of them in
the pussy and ass, making sure to leave a load in each of
them-and recording it-before collecting their things. He gave
each another drink, more heavily spiked, which put them out
completely, then spent some time quick-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... he hoped so, since they had a full day ahead of them.

Part III 
	Melissa rolled to her side, groaning as dim awareness surfaced.
The room was completely dark. She shifted, trying to find a
comfortable spot on the hard mattress beneath her. Something was
wrong, though she was not sure exactly what. She blinked, looked
at the red numbers of the alarm clock: 4AM. 
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 and not blue clock numbers, when she put a
questioning hand against Jeff's back, and found none of the hair
she expected. 
That quickly, Melissa was completely awake. She sat up, pushing
the covers down. Even in the dark, it was obvious it was not her
bedroom. Panic clutched at her throat. She looked beside her,
almost against her will, and relaxed fractionally when she
realized it was Kathy snoring quietly beside her. Her friend was
naked from the waist up, and Melissa 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; no new rings were in evidence.
Pushing at Kathy's shoulder, she reached blindly for the bed
stand lamp and turned it on. She reached belatedly for the covers
to hide herself, but the room was empty. 
Kathy groaned, rolling to her back, still unaware of anything as
Melissa ran to the windows and looked out, trying to ignore the
now familiar fullness between her legs. It wasn't the squalor of
a 'cheater's motel' she already knew, based on the quality of the
furnishing. A brightly lit city stretched out far below her-not
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 was awake and starting to realize something was
wrong. She sat up as well, and Melissa turned back, 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 asked, searching her friend's face for
answers, "What's 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 the 2nd to Melissa, who was already
searching the drawers. 
"What about our clothes?" Melissa's voice was a quiet wail. The
women searched the suite, finding none of their clothes, and
worse, none of their other belongings. Kathy saw the videotape
first. Melissa had tried the phone, but the clerk had no idea to
whom the room had been checked or rather would not provide that
information-hotel policy the harsh voice intoned before the
connection died.
Kathy got her friend's attention, then slid the tape into the
player with shaking hands. The tape hissed to life, showing no
fewer than 7 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
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 1 man after another fucked their apparently
willing bodies. Melissa rocked silently as she watched the 1st
man take her; a heavy set black 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 her own voice answered, '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
showerhead 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 1st, 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 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. Blue something." 
"That's right," Kathy paused. "Why do I think he wasn't a
waiter?" Both women sat in misery, eyes still glued to the
screen. The same disgusting man who'd been the 1st in Melissa was
finishing in Kathy, and the brunette nodded at the screen,
glancing at her friend, "Fred's sort of... prejudiced. 1 look at
this and he'd probably kill me." 
"What do we do?" Melissa looked to her friend, who simply
shrugged. "I can't just call home: 'Hey honey, I was kidnapped
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 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 money for
a ticket home." 
Kathy nodded; her husband's reaction could only be worse. The
screen had gone blank, and the women sat staring at it for a
moment. 
"What should we do with it?" Melissa murmured.
"Burn it. But there's 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 on her jism smeared thigh, "and this is mine.
You loved it," he added. "You've probably guessed, 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 3 fingers.
The voice continued. 
"I bet 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 when 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 hotel
issue 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! Thinks he can do this to us." 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 and
moved to 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, 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
the prick wants." Melissa couldn't hide her smile, though she
wondered if they would pay in the end for that act of defiance. 
"We're in trouble, aren't we?" 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, "Let's just wait and see what he says."

Part IV 
	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 6AM
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
coincidence 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, 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 let himself in with the keycard,
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 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 opposite 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 flipped her hair angrily,
though the effect was comical considering she was sitting there
in a hotel robe. 
	"You're my guests, of course." He smiled, "Well, that's not
exactly true. Let's say 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 smiled more broadly, "I
forgot to include it on the tape. You each made a nice phone call
to the machine at your home; you told your other halves 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, go well," she countered, then added, "How did
you get us here?" He smiled. 
	"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" He settled 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 1st
time." Neither woman answered. "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 1." 
	"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 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 none who were there will forget." Both women flushed as
he continued.
	"But I realized there was something missing-there was no glitter
when you showed 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.
1st with a condom in the bar, then without-once each-outside the
bar before we went to the tattoo parlor. And then a 2nd time each
afterward, christening the new jewelry, if you will. I drove you
home, then got out 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? It is still tonight?" "Oh yes, Saturday morning to
be exact. I waited and waited for you 2 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
seeing that tape the police would agree with me. But I'll 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 or speak... act as if they're not asleep. And users are more
susceptible to suggestion. It made it child's play to do whatever
I wanted to do with you." He shifted in his seat, letting them
think about that.
	"Of course, I had to be careful at 1st, I couldn't what I
planned without your husbands getting some clues. So I was
testing things, you see, Since they've shown they can handle
change and a little of the unknown, it's time to get you broken
and in place in my stable." Another lie-he'd have used them
regardless of what their husbands did, but they needn't 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 for men to use. And sometimes for women to
use. I provide women for strip clubs, bachelor parties, porn
shoots, weekend 'escort' services. I even have a select clientele
looking for just the right women to make their rich, pampered
wives, but then you're already married, so that's not why I've
brought you here." Another lie, most of those he sold to the
Arabs left a puzzled husband behind. 
	"So you expect us to... work for you? As whores." 
	"Whores... such a nasty word. I consider you call girls. I call,
you're my girls... or whoever's I tell you to be. Consider the
alternative. I imagine your husbands wouldn't understand 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. I don't impose that
often. And you'll get to live out experiences few women enjoy.
You might find out you 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 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 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 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 high rollers who are at this hotel. They asked
for attractive white ladies to spend some time with. I imagine
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 have some time to yourselves. About noon, the magician
working 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. 
"Yes, but then you've already been with them, haven't you?" She
blushed.
"They didn't... didn't use condoms." 
"No. And neither do I. I have the 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 you. They're clean-I make sure; Trust
me, you'll find it's not that bad. The magician usually cums
inside of 10 minutes, then spends the rest of his time tying you
up and examining ways to escape. The high rollers... well, let's
say they are intent on pleasing the ladies. I really want you to
be happy doing your jobs. I'll use you if you aren't, but I think
you'll find that enjoying the sex makes putting out easier, and
since there are no strings attached, it can be liberating." He
didn't 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 3 hours of footage here
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 1 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-everyone-I
tell you without complaint, and after 10 tricks, a picture goes
away. Or 6 minutes of film. I figure that's about 40 items to
balance. 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 and 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, 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 guarantee your husbands
will find out before you can arrange airfare back, and you'll
have to settle this," he looked around the room, "$1200," he
paused, examining the serving cart, "Maybe $1400 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? 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 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 1 evening a
week you can turn a trick or two without your husbands 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 stood, "I guess that's about it. I'd better go
so you 2 can get ready."
"Wait!" Melissa chocked 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 2 bottles taped
together. 
"I have these if you think you'll need them," he began, taking 1
of each tablets, "This is valium; it'll help you relax and go
with the flow," he held up the other, "Take this just before you
start to fuck, and you'll find you 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, Kat, 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 V 
	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 would not 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 1 on 1 situation would
be impossible to accept-they'd be using condoms, after all-but a
group... the images she remembered of herself on tape were enough
that she eyed the pills still sitting on the counter. 
Melissa hadn't said a word after Tom had left. She'd rocked for a
long time, but when Kathy glanced over, she saw her friend had
gone totally still, though she was still crying. Kathy suspected
if Melissa wasn't cleaned up when the men arrived, they'd both
see what sort of punishment Tom could dole out. She took a glass
of juice from the breakfast tray and went 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 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..." Kathy let the
statement hang. Melissa took the 1st of the tablets Tom had left,
and within a few minutes, had calmed 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 she could do what was
expected. 
	When Melissa opened the door, she gave a small squeak, and
looking up, Kathy could see why. Neither of the men standing in
the doorway was less than 6'2" in height. 1 was significantly
overweight, while the other had acne scars and the look of a used
car salesman. The heavy man was Hispanic, the other man white,
and she guessed he was pushing 60. Both men eyed the women in
their borrowed robes, then smiled as they confidently entered the
room. 
	"Thomas tells me we get to enjoy a remarkable 1st, tonight,
ladies... you're 1st extra-marital sex for pay," the older man
smiled, as if he expected them to join in. Kathy eyed the pills,
suddenly wishing she'd taken hers. The Hispanic man lumbered in
behind his friend, who was already holding Melissa's hands up,
openly appraising her body. 
	As Kathy watched, he reached down with 1 hand, opening her
friend's robe before the door behind his friend was fully closed.
Melissa stood unmoving, letting him do what he wanted. The
Hispanic man lumbered toward her, bad teeth grinning at her.
	"Let's see what we have," he rumbled, reaching for the knot on
her robe while he was still 3' 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 2 will
do wonders for Thomas' stable. I may ask for them by name." 'Her'
John had closed 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 to lick and suck at her nipple
as his hand moved to tease the ring in her labia before moving
gently over her clit. And despite her wish otherwise, Kathy felt
herself beginning to lubricate. 
	Her head was back, eyes closed, when the man moved up to kiss
her neck, and then higher, bringing his mouth to hers. She tasted
cigars and alcohol and let his tongue push into her mouth as his
finger relentlessly worked her budding clitoris. 
	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 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, legs
spread, robe on the floor beneath the man taking her. He was
kneeling between her legs, lapping at her pussy. As the Hispanic
led the way to the bed his finger still hooked into Kathy's wet
sex, he skimmed 2 of the pills from the counter, deftly flipping
1 to the man he called Stephen, and holding the 2nd 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 the sex to the king-sized bed. Still tickling
that inner spot with his finger, he gruffly told Kathy to open
his pants, while unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand. Kathy
did as he'd ordered, reaching around his girth to push the pants
and straining briefs toward the floor. 
	His erection was modest, maybe 7", and was nearly hidden by the
heavy paunch of his abdomen, but from where she sat on the bed,
it was visible. 
	"Suck it," he told her, and she leaned forward, wishing he'd
left his fingers inside of her, but he couldn't, standing over
her as he was. His hands caught her head, pulling her firmly
against his crotch, then releasing after a few seconds. She
backed off, then pressed forward again, sucking and swirling her
tongue, pausing abruptly to back away and gasp, 'Condom!' She
couldn't believe she'd started to suck him without making him
wear one. The man sighed. 
	"It was worth the try, no?" He reached to the drawer of the
nightstand, obviously used to Tom's arrangements, and extracted a
black plastic square, "You'll do the honors, of course, 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 in her
mouth. She arranged it, then brought her mouth 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 2nd attempt was successful, if not smooth.
	"Very good," her John praised, pulling her face against his
crotch again. After another moment, Kathy had again found the
rhythm and was working at his cock, hoping to get him off and
avoid having 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 rolling it onto his blood-filled
shaft, all the while keeping Melissa turned away from him, toward
the bed. He knew she was wet enough for him to fuck her, but
wanted to give the pill she'd taken time to work, and knew that
watching her friend would have an effect, as would not being able
to see him. 
	Naked and sheathed in Trojan's finest, he pressed his body
against hers, delighting in the way she shivered, and reached
around to tease both her rings as he joined her in watching his
friend being blown. 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 writhed as his finger
slipped up her cleft to massage her clit, and 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 cockhead against her parted labia, then
slid 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, reaching around to tease her ringed nipple and finger her
clit as he did so. 
	Within 2 min, Melissa was groaning as she came from the
stranger's shaft fucking into her frothing pussy. She knew it was
wrong; knew she should be resisting. But it felt so good... 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 against the mattress, eyes closed, 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 cockhead against her sex, rubbing up and down.
The sensation was electric; more powerful than she remembered
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
2nd stroke, her body was moving, knees dropping wide, pelvis
tilting to welcome his thrusting cock. 
	She came hard as she heard Melissa gasping that she was cumming
as well. Time seemed to slow. 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 the women's heads were beside one
another. Melissa was rubbing her pussy openly, hips thrusting up
against her own fingers, and Kathy realized absently that she was
doing the same thing. 
	The men moved up between their splayed thighs, teasing them with
their condom-clad erections, slapping down against their clits
and running them through the women's flowing pussies until both
were 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 she didn't
understand, but all that escaped was a moan. He smiled, asking
again. 
	"Do you want this inside of you?" She nodded, bucking up at him
anxiously. He shook his head, "No, I don't think you really want
it. You're just a whore trying to get me off so you can go on to
your next John." She shook her head, 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. 
	"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 sawed against her clit, waiting for her answer.
She hesitated, shaking her head slightly. He nodded. 
	"You don't want me to cum inside of you. I understand. I won't.
I'll pull out. You know you need it. Tell me I can take it off."
She opened her mouth, then closed it, looking down in
embarrassment as she nodded. He smiled more broadly, looking over
at Stephen, who'd already stripped bare and was driving into the
petite blonde with gusto. Her ankles were crossed behind his
back, spurring him into her. 
	He smiled-there was no way 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. 
	"You need to tell me."
	"T-take it off," she groaned. He shook his head, rubbing
slightly over her steaming sex.
"You take it off." Her eyes went wide, but a second later she
reached down, 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, pulling him toward her; into
her. He rewarded her by sliding in fully, pressing in and up,
grinding his pubic bone against her clit. She stiffened beneath
him, a panting whine escaping her lips as she orgasmed instantly.
He set a steady rhythm, fucking in and out in 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 she might die if she
didn't get more. He slipped into once, then again, before holding
himself outside and telling her the only way he'd fuck her was
bare. She hadn't understood at 1st, and then he'd told her what
he meant-he wouldn't fuck her with the condom on. 
She'd tried to shake her head no, but he'd laughed, running his
shaft through her wet slit without pushing into her, avoiding her
best effort to get him inside of her again, and when he'd asked
her again, she'd nodded-anything to feel him inside of her again.
He'd stripped the sheath off, making her beg for it before
thrusting into her, driving balls deep, and fucking into her hard
and fast, quickly giving her the release 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 pumping her hips to meet his every thrust, reveling in
the sensation; the endless pleasure he was providing. Any thought
of her husband or Kathy was lost to the overwhelming pleasure she
was feeling. She was no longer the wife and loving mother being
forced to perform, but an eager sexual creature, craving
sensation. 
Then the tempo had changed; became disjointed. She was aware of
him grunting and panting over her. And then his body had gone
stiff. He'd held himself against her, buried fully in her
steaming box. She felt the 1st blast of his climax as it
spattered the inner walls of her pussy. Dimly she knew it was a
mistake-he should pull out-but it was too late, and she couldn't
hope to unlock her ankles, much less push him out of her in time.

Her feet fell to the mattress and she tried weakly to stop the
inevitable, even as she shivered in yet another orgasm at the
sensation of his load pulsing into her. 
	The Paulo had taken his time fucking Kathy, giving her time to
feel the way his body covered hers, 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 in 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, knew 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
deep. She gasped, aware of what was going to happen.
"No!" she groaned, pushing uselessly at his chest. He didn't seem
to notice, except to laugh as he exploded deep inside 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 suddenly frightened, Kathy
did so without any thought of hurting him. He laughed when she'd
finished, climbing off of the bed and gazing at her sprawled,
naked body. 
"Mm-mmm," he nodded, "You are 1 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 to retrieve the terrycloth. She stood, putting more distance
between herself and the leering John. 
"You said... you said 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 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 in her
chuckled, "We're clean." He nodded appreciatively, "and you're
good, chica. I may ask for you next time 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 2nd 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 close and 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 the men had
indeed left. She put the safety bolt in place, then went back
through the bedroom into the bathroom, letting her friend nap.

Part VI 
	Melissa woke with a start when Kathy roused her, then rolled to
her back, groaning as what she had done 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 still more semen
ooze from her recently-used sex, and looked at Kathy.
	"I... I let him take it off." Kathy nodded. 
	"I did too. I think that's what Tom wanted. A way to remind us
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
they'd both already been changed by their experience-her friend
had once gone to great lengths to avoid exposing her body to
anyone. She wondered if the changes would be so obvious to their
families, and if so, what their husbands would think.
	The thought that she might endure such humiliation-be endlessly
used by a string of total strangers-only to find she'd lost
everything anyway was almost too much. When Melissa was finished
cleaning up, they sat together, the television on though neither
was watching it, each lost in her own thoughts. 
	There was a knock, and Melissa sighed, "I'll get it; maybe you
won't have to do anything." She hadn't 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 2 garment sacks and a note, "Senor
send... Senor say..." she repeated endlessly, then waited as
Kathy accepted the note and tore it open. 
	'Hope you didn't answer in the raw,' the note began, and Kathy
looked around again, wondering if the man had cameras everywhere;
he seemed to know exactly what they were doing. 'Don't assume
anyone visiting your room is a John. Make them tell you who they
are and what they want-at least who sent them to you- before you
open the door. NEVER offer anything. And as I didn't hear from
your 1st 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; 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, handing it to Melissa, who read it, then numbly accepted
the garment bag Maria offered, 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 scandalously
revealing dresses. 
Kathy's was a blue sequin outfit that stopped at mid-calf, with a
slit that reached her thigh, and a break at the back that reached
the small of her back. She turned to look at herself in the
mirror, 1/2 expecting to be able to see her crack. The included
3" heels were clear acrylic, and there was a silver waistlet 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 set about doing that as Melissa examined her dress. Kathy
wondered what was taking her friend so long, until Mel slipped
the black silk dress on. She started to say she thought it was on
backwards, but it wasn't. The deep vee cut 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, 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 Melissa's 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 on 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 vee of the dress. 
Each woman found tiny stud earrings with the same Jerry character
as they wore permanently, onyx in the ears, and Kathy thought, a
diamond chip at the groin. Kathy replaced the diamond studs
already in her ear, guessing 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 in their dress, apparently the closest
thing they would have to a purse. 
	They wandered into the casino, initially so self-conscious 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 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 10 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 21 table she'd 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 the men had used her earlier, she
expressed her thanks with a generous tip when the girl arrived
with her 3rd drink. 
By then, she was up almost $100, and was starting to feel the
alcohol. She glanced at her watch before remembering she had none
on, and inquired of the man beside her, who looked down her
cleavage as he told her it was 10 past 12. She placed her bet,
deciding to leave after that hand, and looking for Melissa. She
didn't see her friend anywhere. 
She won, banking $120, $5 of which she left the dealer, then
offered the other assembled gamblers, all of whom were watching
her, a smile as she carefully climbed down from the stool and
left. As she wandered 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 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 on them, before the big man
threw... another winner. 
"That's like 10 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) 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
offered her winningest smile to the man, "But I'm afraid 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.

"See here, missy," he began, "I can't just let my good luck charm
cut and run." 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 a temporary loan." The man chomp 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, openly sliding several chips into the side
of the open vee of Mel's dress. 
"I'll just do that," he smiled, "I may ask for both you fillies,
too!" The others at the table laughed at that, but Melissa and
Kathy were able to escape toward 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 1st 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; prospective customers, and you girls are
already out there bringing new blood in. That's why I wanted you
2 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 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 you referred him to me. But that also
exposes me to potential problems. Next time, take his number and
tell him I'll call." 
"A-all right," Kathy answered, without considering what was
implied in his casual mention of a 'next time.' 
"Good. 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-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 looked at her friend after she hung up. 
"Maybe I should've let you hang with that cowboy. Melissa shook
her head, "He'd've 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 1/2 bad. Hell, with that
we could cut and run, if we wouldn't find videotapes of our gang
bang playing on the VCR at home when we got there." Melissa
nodded, still fingering the chips. 
"Imagine what people must be paying that asshole 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 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 she had seen on TV. Kathy could only stare
as he moved into the room, closing-and locking-the door behind
them. She realized he held a satchel in one hand, and nearly
giggled at the thought 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 so prominent a man
using prostitutes-even if they weren't really prostitutes-for his
pleasure. When both were in their robes again-Melissa leaving the
chain joining her breast and labia in place-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 2 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, and again to
direct the women onto the bed.
"How'd you get in here?" Kathy asked before she did as he'd
indicated. He smiled broadly.
"A trick, you think?" He held up a card, "Alas, no... You're...
shall we say manager provided me with the key to my heart's
desire... or desires, as the case may be." He pointed to the bed
again, "Let's leave the robes there, shall we? Climb onto the bed
now; 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 when 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, some noise as he dug in
the bag he'd brought, and then Melissa heard him approach her
side of the bed. His large hand ran from her armpit out toward
her fingers, raising her arm over her head until he held her hand
as he slipped something around the 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. Melissa tried
to bring her arms down and found that she couldn't-she was bound,
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 she'd taken another
of the pills, but it was too late; 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.1st
the petals, 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 I won't hurt you.
No, you're far too beautiful to mar. But one of you... I must
have 1 of you, and you'll have to ask for it. For whatever I have
to offer. So I'll test you, and we'll see who breaks." 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 sensitive
areas she hadn't 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 and tried 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 sex
nearly dripping with excitement. With need, despite the lack of
the drugs she'd used before. She was glad she was blindfolded;
glad Kathy couldn't see how she was reacting, her body betraying
her. 
	He rubbed something oily into her nipples, then slipped
something ice cold into her frothing pussy and moved 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 1st to
give in. 
	She told herself it wasn't fair-that he kept going to her 1st.
Kathy groaned aloud as he lingered over her, and Melissa thought
she would ask for more-hoped so-but her friend said nothing more.
She heard or felt him moving back toward her side of the bed, and
unbidden, tears began to run. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to
cheat on Jeff. She loved her husband. 
	"Hmm, we must be getting close," he wiped away a tear that had
escaped the blindfold, "I bet this won't go on much longer. Soon
we'll know who really wants to fuck me." There was a pause, while
he rummaged in the sack, "This shouldn't be too much, given what
both of you have already let some artist do to your bodies," he
leaned over Melissa at chest level, "Though I wager 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, head thrashing from side to
side, trying to will the pain away. 
	"No? Strong girl," he said, then moved to Kathy. Melissa felt
her friend's rigid body, 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; it
made it easier to be glad she was the 1st to experience his
'attentions.' A moment later, Kathy writhed, whining and digging
her nails into the sheet 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 2 on my
next special." He laughed at his own joke, but spent no idle time
before he was between Melissa's legs. The by-then body
temperature vibrator was removed, and he thrust his penis-she
realized in horror-into her a few times, then backed off, pushing
the vibrator he'd just removed relentlessly into her backdoor. 
	"C-condom," she managed, hoping he would obey her. He chuckled,
	"Oh, I assure you I'm sheathed. I just had to sample that
delightful pussy," he stepped back, and laughed as Melissa
hunched against her bonds, trying to escape the buzzing device
filling her ass. "Now lets' 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. 
	"M-hmm," he said, "You're 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, then returned to her side. "Last chance, blondie. You
sure you don't want me to take you? Sure 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; open up." Melissa did,
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, 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 she'd been struggling and grunting and
whining, but as she quieted, the only movement 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, 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 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 she sucked at him, letting himself get as
close as he dared, then pulling out quickly. He bent down,
thrusting the 2nd dildo gag into the brunette's mouth, delighting
in the way she gagged and struggled; just as the blonde had. 
He reached up, removing the blindfold and leering down at Kathy.
"So you need it? You have to have my cock inside of you? I tell
you what. I'll remove the gag in a minute, and I want you to tell
me how much you need it. I want you to watch," he moved back and
over on 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 sex, delighting in
the woman's muffled squeal. 
"On 2nd thought, you'd get too loud. I think you'll just have to
watch as I fuck your friend." As he spoke, he drove his cock into
Melissa, who screamed into her own gag. "See?" he panted, hips
flexing rhythmically as he thrust into the petite blonde, "I was
sure you'd out last this one, but I must admit," he drove into
Melissa more forcefully, "I'm glad I got to sample more of this
delight. Nnngggg!" 
He held himself against the thrashing, wailing blonde, clearly
orgasming. Spent, he pulled out, 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 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
within 5 minutes of his cumming. 
	"Think he needed an audience?" Kathy managed when she'd calmed a
bit and her throat didn't ache. Melissa nodded miserably. 
"Too weird." She stifled a groan as she sat up. "I was sure he
was going to fuck you when you spoke." 
"I was too, but the way you'd been thrashing, I didn't want
whatever he'd done to you done to me. And then the asshole did it
anyway." 
"At least he didn't take 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." 
"Shhh... Don't think about that now. Let's just get through
this." 
"Yeah, this and another 400 guys!" Melissa 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... on one cares what's happening, and some of them
have to know; I wouldn't make it out of the city without his
knowing it. Face it, we're fucked." She pulled her knees up
close, not caring that it exposed her fringed labia and the
glittering ring. 
"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 toward 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. She reassured herself 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 hillbilly." Melissa laughed, but shook her
head. 
"You 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." Kathy laughed, then followed her
friend into the bathroom to clean up. Again.

Part VII 
	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, hands laced behind his head. 
"You 2 look like you're enjoying yourselves," he smiled, 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? 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
we 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 I'm not a total ogre. I'm even paying for
the show 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.
But Tom wasn't about to deny it. Not completely, anyway.
"That's true here, but this isn't you 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 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 may." 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; I treat you straight up." Satisfied they weren't
going to mutiny he pressed his advangtge.
"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 you get off just letting them put their
dick in 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 equipped like my
friends and I; it'll be regular Joes, no bigger or better than
your husbands." 
"Except they know they're banging another man's wife." Kathy
wasn't ready to just agree with him.
"True. At least, we assume that's a difference from your
hubbies." He smiled at the anger that triggered and waved his
hands defensively, "Let's not fight. I'm sure 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 you don't check out in
to a session. That means no one tapes you without your knowing;
no one uses restraints or whips or chains or any of the other
weird shit some pervs want to use unless I say so. I'll screen
most of the shit out, but don't ever drop your 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
2 ready for me?" Kathy shrugged. 
"You have something we haven't seen before?" 
"Oh, you've seen it. You've even enjoyed it before; I just don't
think you remember it. Today, though... Today you 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. Tom saw the change. 
"Oh, so maybe you remember more than I thought." He reached down,
opening the top of his pants, "It's also good to see you're both
comfortable with me talking to you while you're stark naked,"
both women blushed at his point. "Seriously. Don't be
embarrassed. I want you comfortable like that, so 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 if you let
yourselves you'll enjoy this." 
"Oh God," Melissa murmured quietly. "I think 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 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 you enjoy 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 blowjob 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 1 side of Tom on the bed, trying not to
stare at the immensity of his ebony shaft. Still partly soft, it
was longer than Jeff's was hard. She shivered aware that she'd
taken him before, but unsure how, or what it would do to her
feeling him inside of her. She glanced at Kathy, then bent her
head, 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 hers, 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 1 another would
override their need to know how it'd 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 women were better suited to oral sex
after enduring the magician's twisted idea of a gag. He'd guessed
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 1st
time she inadvertently offered him oral sex. Most men didn't give
it a 2nd 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
open, eyes closed, tongue dancing with his, accepting his into
her mouth. His hands groped her firm breasts, toyed with the
piercing on 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,
shivering as he quickly built her to a small orgasm. He sat up,
working 2 long fingers in and out of Melissa's clutching pussy,
and caught Kathy by the chin, disengaging her from his raging
erection. 
"You want more?" he murmured. Her eyes were lust hazed, mouth
open, tongue still against his cock, as she nodded. "Roll 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, a thumb against her clit, and began lapping
at Kathy's sex, reveling in the different taste and texture
compared to her friend. Kathy built as quickly to orgasm, fingers
digging into the sheets, pelvis coming up to meet his exploring
tongue. He replaced his tongue with 2 fingers of his left hand,
kneeling over their crossed legs and finger fucking them in time.

	As 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 sex. The brunette
groaned loudly into the blonde's sex, the vibration making
Melissa throw her own head back and murmur her delght, the
movement pressing her sex more closely against her friend's face.

	Tom was just more than 1/2 way into Kathy's velvet box when her
breath caught-he was as deep as she remembered being fucked
before. He paused, lifting his hips, putting pressure on her
clit, which elicited another groan, before he slipped out,
feeding his cock to a willing Melissa again. She sucked
feverishly at him, 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 he had the 1st
time. Kathy's breath gusted into Melissa's sex, and he expected
the blonde at any moment to force her dripping cunt 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 just at the
point Kathy began to tense. After a minute, Kathy's reaction had
eased. And soon she was groaning, hips moving as much as
Melissa's torso allowed to meet his strokes. He put pressure on
her clit with each outstroke, 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 length without
distress. He smiled, sure that he'd chosen a winning pair, then
backed out, chuckling at the blonde's whine of disappointment,
and the brunette's happy groan as he moved into her drooling sex
again. This time there was no resistance when he hit the mark,
and he didn't stop, thrusting another 3" into her before he
paused. Kathy's whole body had gone rigid as he did so. 
	Her head came and she'd cried out in surprise, the sound
delivered directly into Melissa's pussy. While the keening whine
was still audible, the blonde's gasp was masked Kathy's cry, and
then Melissa had rocked back, planting herself firmly on the
brunette's face. By the time Tom backed out an inch 15sec later,
Kathy was openly eating her friend's pussy. He fucked in and out
of Kathy's sex for awhile, pushing slightly deeper with each
stroke, until he felt Kathy 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 as each time 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. 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 her
pleasure into her friend's pussy, and Tom chose that moment to
drive his cock balls deep, holding himself there as Kathy's cunt
spasmed again and again. She groaned for long moments, the noise
muffled by Melissa's pussy. When her climax had eased, Kathy had
taken his massive foot plus length in its entirety. 
She shivered, feeling how deeply he filled her, then nodded when
he moved side to side, asking if she was ready. He began to move,
1st backing out barely an inch and easing fully forward, as much
for his own self-control as her comfort. Once he'd steadied, he
moved 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 and pumping her pelvis up to meet his
strokes, groaning each time his bulbous cockhead clipped her
cervix to push up and behind. He redirected after she'd cum
again, pushing more forcefully at her cervix. She'd had kids, he
knew-had experienced cervical dilatation before-and with
patience, he was delighted to find her cervix was still pliable.
	She groaned at the increased discomfort and at the short
stroking that he ws using to accomplish his goal, but after
another handful of minutes, the groans had changed in pitch, and
she was shivering each time he thrust into her. He gritted his
teeth, feeling his cock press farther into her cervix with each
thrust. She was close, he knew. And then it happened; resistance
dropped off, allowing him in deeper-not the balls deep he'd been
before-into the heart of her sex. 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, hips gyrating beneath him, her breath
whistling as she calmed slightly from her last climax. She nodded
below Melissa's dripping sex. "You know where I am?" he teased,
"1st I fucked you deeper than anyone else ever has; now I'm up
inside your womb." She stiffened in shock. "That's right," he
smiled, "I'm right up through your cervix. That's what feels so
tight, baby. Now fuck yourself on my cock," he ordered, "Fuck
your womb on daddy's black meat." Melissa's eyes were 1/2 closed
eyes from her friend's tonguing. Kathy wanted to refuse he could
tell, but as he shifted, bringing the base of hic shaft against
her clit, she shivered, then eagerly complied. 
"That's right, baby," he said, "Get yourself off. Get me off,
Take my load in your box." His words spurred Kathy on. She
whimpered beneath Melissa, thrusting up at him madly. He gritted
his teeth, trying to hold off a moment longer, and caught
Melissa's attention, "Hear that? Hear how much your friend loves
my cock? Your turn's coming." Melissa arched her back, pressing
her sex again firmly against Kathy's mouth at his words. 
Tom chose that moment to drive down, meeting Kathy's lunge, and
she screamed into Melissa's sex, getting the blonde off as he
began to pulse into Kathy's completely opened sex. 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 open mouth. The blonde's eyes popped open,
but she swallowed, head dropping in search of more. 
Then he was done, and pulling out of Kathy's well-fucked hole, he
shifted back, watching as Melissa buried her face in her friend's
sex, slurping and licking at the jism drooling from Kathy's black
fringed cunt. Watching the lesbian 69 was a quick means of
recuperation for Tom. The women seemed insatiable, Kathy hunching
her sex against Melissa's face while the blonde basically rode
her friend's mouth to a series of orgasms. 
They were still going at it without pause when he rolled to his
knees, fresh cock in hand; the women were so lost in one another
they didn't notice he got off of the bed and moved to the other
side. He smiled to himself; Melissa was at the perfect height to
take her from behind while he was standing. He straddled Kathy's
head, pressing his knees into the mattress for support. She
looked back at that change, licking her lips in undisguised lust
when she saw his cock jutting before 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
redirecting it, he leaned forward, thrusting 4" into Melissa's
open sex. The blonde shivered, arching her back but pressing her
sex against him as she groaned loudly into Kathy's cunt. Smiling
at the reaction, Tom gave her another 3" before Melissa threw her
head back, her breath coming in short gasps. He held himself
there until it was obvious she was at her limit... for the
moment. 
He backed 1/2 way out, and Melissa collapsed onto her friend,
whimpering and shivering. 
"Oh yeah," he teased, spreading her labia so 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 before pushing
back in, this time 2/3 of the way. She whined, hands balling the
covers. 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, from 1/3 to 2/3 of his length again and again. At 1st,
Melissa gave voice to each in stroke with a panting whine. When
she'd adapted, taking the 8" stroke without difficulty, Tom
slowed, shifting his hips from side to side, stretching her outer
lips and teasing her until she was rocking back against him,
hungry for more. He kept 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. Fuck
me." 
"You want it?" he asked, backing out an inch. 
"Yesss!" she whimpered. 
"It feels good?" Melissa nodded emphatically. "You don't care
that I'm not your husband. That you're fucking a big black cock?"
Melissa's shoulder shook as she sobbed. 
"God, I don't care. 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 at that, holding himself 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 her throat, and by the time he'd
fed her the 11th inch, she was rocking back against him. The last
thrust, taking him balls deep, was almost anti-climatic; she was
pushing back against him, taking it all... wanting it. He let go
of her hips, watching as she eagerly impaled herself on his meat.
After letting her fuck herself on his shaft for a minute, he
slipped out, smiling as she whined her displeasure, trying to
move back to take him into her velvet folds again. Dropping out
of her hungry cunt, he pushed his wet cockhead down, feeding it
to Kathy. 
	The brunette sucked at him whorishly, letting him push into her
throat, 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 steaming box 4 or 5 strokes, then
letting Kathy devour his meat for a minute. Each time he thrust
back into the blonde, Kathy lapped at her friend's sex, anxious
for Melissa to get off so she could have Tom to herself. 
	Melissa, meanwhile was feverishly working Kathy's sex, aware of
what her friend was doing and similarly trying to get the
brunette off so Tom would concentrate on her. She sucked and
nipped at Kathy's clit, then pulled at the labial ring with her
teeth, which pushed Kathy over the edge. She screamed around
Tom's cock, back arching as she climaxed. He wisely pulled out,
driving fully into Melissa, which triggered the blonde's release.
Her milking cunt coaxed him over the edge as well, and a moment
after she'd begun the cascade of pleasure, Melissa groaned in
impassioned delight as she felt Tom filling her 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 sex. Melissa sighed,
spreading her legs, supporting her weight on her arms and knees
and 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 panting together. As awareness resurfaced, Kathy sat up
partially, but paused, then snuggled closer to Melissa, and after
a moment's hesitation, the blonde wife accepted her girlfriend's
intimate contact without reservation. 
	Tom sat watching as they recovered, and realizing he was still
there, sheepishly began to put themselves in order. He laughed,
shaking his head at their reactions.
"Didn't I tell you 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, "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. 
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 they'd enjoy the sex
without knowing it'd been 'assisted.' Despite the fact that they
at least believed they'd willingly enjoyed sex with him without
such aids, he planned to suggest they use them for the flight
back. It would be a long trip, and without the drug's help the
sheer number of men 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 non-commitally. 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; 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 feeling 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. Just remember that I can be your wildest fantasy, too.
Remember feeling me inside of you? Really inside, like no one's
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." "No, but you can take it
home. Tell Fred it was one of the 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, "My
ladies, shall we go?"

Part VIII 
	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 4 hours. The show had been remarkable;
moreso, 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 new 'O' bags, with other
souveneirs for the kids and their husbands. At the steps to the
private jet, Tom had handed them each a glass of champagne, and
the stimulants he'd made available earlier, offering a toast
along with 'their medication,'
"To a long, pleasing involvement." They'd hesitated at using the
drugs and moreso at the toast, but relented without argument when
he'd pointed out he only wanted to be sure they'd enjoy
themselves throughout the flight, rather than finding the last
hour of the flight real work. The nimble plane leapt to cruising
altitude. Tom had explained the flight might be as short as
3hours depending on the weather, but because of the time change
it would be almost 2AM at touchdown. 
Melissa paused, suddenly worried, asking how they'd clean up
before facing their husbands. He smiled, offering each the hotel
keyring he'd added to each purse, and showing them the new keys,
Melissa's 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 Vegas. 'His girls' in those cities could
leave their things when getting ready to work, and could clean up
in the rooms afterwards. Neither woman considered they'd soon be
winging 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 turn their
attention to their 'hostesses,' both women were becoming visibly
aroused. The women stepped from their seats to meet their
admirers in the aisle without a word from Tom, who sat back to
enjoy the coming show. Of course, the camcorder was ready, as he
was confident the women would put on a better show than they had
on the flight out. 
The heavyset black who'd 1st sampled Melissa's charms was the 1st
to reach her again. Tom smiled, seeing she remembered the man
from the video. 
"You enjoyed me that much last time?" she murmured, one hand
dropping between her legs while her other reached for his pants,
dropping his zipper. He smiled, showing a mouthful of grime
coated teeth, but the blonde didn't seem to notice, she was so
lost in the 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 sex, 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 audible groan, as she spread her legs,
humping her pelvis against his exploring hand. Beside her, 1/2 in
the aisle, Kathy was letting the swarthy Chicano 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 with an average
dick could only help remind his girls 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 walking her backward joined like
that. As Tom watched, he pulled out, laughing when Melissa whined
in displeasure, scrambling to her hands and knees to suck at 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 moved around to thrust
into her from behind. Melissa's eyes were closed, mouth open, and
she arched her back, pushing to meet the twisted cock as it
corkscrewed deep into her naked cunt. 
	Tom turned, to see Kathy draped over a chair, sucking on
Robert's cock while Jorge sucked at her cunt from behind. As he
watched, the big Hispanic stood, laughing as his cock slapped
against the brunette's clit, making her spasm. She reached back,
grabbing his tool and pulling her against her seam, rocking back
to take him into her velvet pussy. It was another 1st for his
newest whore-taking 2 men at once-but Kathy moved as if she'd
been doing it all her life, aware only of the burning need for
pleasure. Tom doubted she even knew exactly what was happening,
the way she was going at them. 
He looked back in time to see a 2nd black cock fill Melissa's
tiny body, plunging into her open mouth to fill her throat. Her
eyes snapped open in surprise, but closed 1/2 way as she groaned
in pleasure around the shaft, sucking at 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, allowing her to clean
his shaft off as his friend completed his pleasure and added a
2nd load to what was already leaking out of her sex. 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, drooling down her chest. She cleaned the Fortune 500
CEO's cock with seeming delight, gasping, "Yesss!" when Jorge
began to cum into her twitching box. 
Another of the men then led her to the 2nd mattress, and within 1
minute of having taken Jorge's load, Kathy was on her back,
letting another stranger bang her missionary style, her ankles
planted at the sides of his fat waist, spurring him on. Another
man dropped to his knees by her head, feeding 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 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 voicing her disappointment when he
pulled out of her cunt, pulling her back onto her his chest. The
pout became a gasp when his friend moved over them and thrust
into her open sex and a cry when the 1st man pushed 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, though, pressing 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
Melissa's mouth. The women were fucked endlessly, usually by at
least 2 men at a time, over the entire flight. When the captain
reported they were starting their descent, each of the 7 visitors
had cum at least twice, leaving a load in each girl's totally
filled, fucked out cunt. And most had painted them with another
offering or had fed them their cream. 
Tom suggested the women 'clean 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 the women
were devouring one another. They spasmed in a shrieking mutual
climax just as the wheels squealed against the tarmac, and lay
panting together as the plane rolled out and taxied to the
hangar. 
	Melissa and Kathy were coming down from the drug's effects as
they dressed-somewhat reluctantly to Tom's amusement-after
downing the 'morning after pills' he'd provided. The men who'd
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 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 the plane, and the women stood 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 riser
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 onto the concrete and turned, searching for the car she'd
expected to be waiting. Tom was last one down the riser, 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 on for the
next trip?" 
	"Well, Mr. T," the taller of the 2 said, leaning against the
trailing edge of the portside wing, "That's what you said last
time." 
	"and the time before that," 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 1st time, 
	"Well, we could hear some of what you had going on back there...
how's about you let us enjoy your girls, there, and we'll call it
even?" Tom feigned consideration-it was the last step, turning a
trick in their home city, and in public, right before going home
to their families-then shrugged. 
	"I guess that's about fair. But you'll have to do it another
night if you want to take them somewhere; they have to get home."

	"Oh, that won't be necessary," the smaller man pushed off of his
place by the hangar wall, "We can enjoy them right here!" He
stepped up to the petite blonde, "I think I can enjoy this little
bit right here by the wing!" Tom shrugged and nodded.
	"Great. I'll go get the car and come back." Then he was gone.
The women looked at each other anxiously. The drug had worn off,
and each was realizing she was sore from all the fucking she'd
done, but they could guess there'd be trouble if they said no.
Taking the initiative, Melissa strode up to the athletic pilot
who'd been eyeing her, and dropping to her knees, she opened his
flight suit-a different look for company pilots-and dropped to
her knees, sucking at his semi-erect cock. 
	Kathy quickly followed suit, bobbing her head against the big
Midwesterner who'd come to fly planes for the executive, only to
find the fringe benefits were beyond his wildest imaginings. He
looked down, amazed that such a gorgeous woman would prostitute
herself like she was. He also knew he'd have to take control of
she'd finish him 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 shivered, since she was bare from the belly down, having
bunched her dress below her breast while working on his cock. 
	He pressed his body against hers, amazed that she didn't resist
at all. He rubbed his shaft over her naked sex and smiled as her
breath caught. Her hand dropped between them, catching hold of
his shaft and pausing long enough to roll a condom she'd taken
from her purse down his length, then bringing him against her
sex, and into her. She lifted a leg, rocking her pelvis toward
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 1
hand as she worked to get him off. He shifted, catching her taut
ass in his hands to support her more fully. The minute she
relaxed, he fed his entire cock into her, and she stiffened,
breath catching as her body quaked strongly. 
	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 girl onto her back and was
ramming her in a modified missionary position, his boots firmly
planted on the asphalt, her ass on the cold metal of the wing.
Even so, the woman's ankles were crossed behind his buddy's back,
and she was humping against him eagerly. 
	Headlights washed over all 4 of them, but the women didn't slow
at all, and then Tom drove past, turning the car around behind
the plane. He climbed out of the little front seat-the pilot
noted absently it was yet a different car from any he'd driven
before. Then again, the women were always different, too. 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 more forcefully as
she began to cum. Her seam clenched at him hungrily, spurring him
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 in time to see his partner
holding himself against the blonde as he came as well. Figuring
they'd started first, he was sure they'd gone at it longer than
the others.
Stepping back, he did the part he detested, but that his friend
had pointed out was a cheap price to bang so many different
fuckable women. He stripped the condom off, wiping the cum
slicked shaft of in her pubic hairs. His friend went so far as to
pull the blonde down from the wing, and as she tried to stand,
cleaned his cock off in the hair on her head. Both women pulled
away abruptly, without a word, even. And smoothing their dresses
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 south
into downtown. 
"I'll show you the apartment, then you 2 can drive home from
there." he maneuvered the vehicle with a skill that betrayed 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'd done-what they'd enjoyed-hit them. Suddenly
they'd worry it would somehow be obvious to their husbands. He
thought it was mostly concern about whether they'd ever react to
the man they loved the same way again. 
Of course, it didn't help that they were sitting there, leaking
several other men's cum while wearing clothes they'd never have
worn in public 48h before. He enjoyed their surprise when they
learned that the apartment he chose to show them the 1st time out
was 1/2 of a duplex on the hill north of the Plaza, near the
hospital. Pointing to the door that was 'theirs,' he selected the
key on Kathy's ring, and promised he'd '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 both women accepted
it, regardless of who might be watching. 
He went as far as the interior landing, making sure there wasn't
already someone there. It was better to keep the new girls apart
from the rest for a time, until they'd come to terms with what
they were doing. Which was why they weren't at the main apartment
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, but nodded. 
He laughed, asking if she was looking forward to having his cock
inside of her again. She nodded again, reaching for him, and
pouting when he stopped her, telling his girls to go clean up and
get home. He left the house whistling, confident that he had 2
more winners for his stable, and wondering not for the 1st time
if there'd 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 'marrying' women
who'd already pledged themselves to another man, especially a
Christian, as if it made him a better man. Tom smiled, wishing he
could tell the brutish man that what made a man a Man was doing
things that would bring even a woman blackmailed to have sex with
strangers back for more.
and 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 while working off their 'debt' to him. Tom
crossed to a taxi stand, giving the driver an address near but
not at his place, and glancing around, congratulated himself on
another successful 'recruiting weekend.'
 
	Inside 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 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 little talk 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; 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: would he 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 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. 
Having followed them home, Tom smiled at the exchange, though it
wasn't without risk; if either husband saw that there'd be
fireworks. He guessed he'd have 2 days-48h until 1 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 he'd taken of 2 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 woman, just as the 2 he'd 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 2 more recruits...

Part IX 
	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 she knew was building in her
throat, at once 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 tight against her erect clit, rubbing at
it endlessly, and that quickly, she was cumming. 
	Her back arched, head dropping back against the motel's thin
mattress, thighs dropping wide, offering her sex to the stranger
firmly seated between them. Breath didn't come, then 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 1st to take her that night; wasn't the biggest
or fattest, and certainly wasn't more skilled than his friends
had been, but after almost 2 hours taking a cock in one manner or
another without pause, it didn't take finesse to get her off;
simply friction. 
	It didn't matter who was getting her off, or that he wasn't
trying to make her cum; after so long without release, the orgasm
satisfied a need she'd denied for too long. She heard her ragged
groan; felt the way 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 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-he reminded her of a boy she'd once
wanted in high school-who was still stroking 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 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-callously. She could lie there,
making the appropriate noises, moving her body convincingly,
while feeling empty and alone. 
	Strangely, it was only when she came-a simple physiological act,
one of the other girl's 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 to
tolerate being used by the endless line of unknown men she that
waited into the future had been disturbing when she'd heard it,
especially considering it'd been advice offered her by a younger,
outwardly more innocent girl. Wife, Melissa scolded herself. They
all were.
	Mel remembered scoffing at the sentiment at the time, even
though she'd already physically known that was reality, thanks to
the intensive, involuntary  'training' Tom had put them through
not so long ago. That anyone could simply accept that as
necessary, though, had frightened Melissa at the time. She'd been
convinced it was a further betrayal. But barely a month later,
she lay panting in the plain hotel room, surrounded by strangers
who'd just used her like a living fuck doll, and without a 2nd
thought 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'd realized what she was doing
and were gathering to watch, assuming 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, the mascara streaked
after her performance, seemed dull to her. She knew there were
dark circles beneath her eyes, hidden by the make-up she had
dutifully applied in front of the same mirror 3 hours before. 
	She ran a hand through her teased, high-lighted hair, noting the
bright flash of red painted fingernails, then re-examined the
hairstyle-nearly buzzed at the sides, the back still long. It
wasn't her, but even as she thought that, she knew otherwise; she
often wondered if it was all she'd ever be again. It didn't seem
possible so much could have changed in 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 she'd just willingly
performed... string of acts, really; without really considering
it, she'd learned to endure. And to her fright and disgust at
times, to even enjoy many of the new things. 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, 1 nipple glittering where she'd
been pierced. She had been amazed to find Tom had apparently been
telling the truth when he said that 'all of his girls' were so
adorned. Even the black woman beside her wore the silver rings,
and sported a barely visible tattoo. She would've easily missed
the latter, but not so long before, the woman's pubes had been as
up close and personal as was physically possible. Mel's tongue
traced her lips, a memory of the other woman's taste lingering in
her mind. That was one of those enjoyable moments she'd once
never considered a possiblility. It'd been essentially the high
point of the finished evening. Mel started 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, Tom's
clients were almost exclusively black, and had seemed to delight
in the idea of 'despoiling' white housewives. 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 fa�ade; she WAS a married housewife; a
mother and schoolteacher. And now, though not wholly unwilling,
she was also on a regular basis a prostitute. 
	Nevermind that she received less money than the lowest
streetwalker she'd passed driving to the 'meeting' that night; it
was a horrifying but undeniable reality-she gave herself to
strange men for money. In 3 months, she'd slept with more men
than she could count; total strangers who'd seen her as nothing
more than meat for their amusement. She shivered, amazed she
could 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 nightmare 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
short of her eyes; the sort of smile open, outgoing Melissa had
been developing unconsciously. 
	"Relax, girl." The other woman 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
tonight than I have all week at home!" Melissa nodded
reflexively, fervently hoping she'd never compare what she'd just
done with what she still tried to enjoy in her bedroom. She'd
diligently forced consideration of the sex she'd just experienced
as wholly different from making love to Jeff. It was already so
horrid to consider how thoroughly she'd betrayed the man she
loved, she refused to believe she could so callously compare what
they shared with the things 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 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
suspicious. To them it was just another of the 'girls' night out'
they'd been enjoying long before Tom had ensnared them. 
	Acutely aware she couldn't carry any sign of her infidelity
home, Melissa stood, turning before the mirror, trying to eyeball
every inch of her skin for any lasting impression 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 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 at least the group that had worked she and Shanille over had
been done right at ten. At the same time, seeing it was
approaching 20 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, girl," Shanille watched her 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.' 
3 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 Tom
brought in 3 at a time, a buxom redhead lying to Melissa's left.
	Melissa shivered in 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; 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 3rd 'job' as well, deftly slipping
full face leather masks onto their heads after having them each
sign a long form, reminding them on Kathy's hesitation that he
had more than enough videotape to ruin their lives anyway. He'd
made sure their hair was arranged through the openings provided
just for that purpose, and when Melissa had complained about it
being hard to breathe, he'd laughed, telling her he'd take if off
it she wanted, but since they were going to be filmed having sex
that night, he'd thought she and Kathy would want to remain
'mystery pussy.' 
	Their 3 hours that night had been another endless string of men
moving between their legs, thrusting into she and Kat, taking her
without any regard to 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
there'd been no argument about using condoms. 
	Their 1st 'John,' the foreigner, 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, and he and his bodyguards had
reluctantly let the women apply the latex guardians. The lessons
Tom taught had a way of making a lasting impressions. 
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 2nd 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, glad when her friend agreed
with that assessment. That was the 1st night Melissa 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 others in the
theater, who'd 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 Tom would sell them out to anyone
with the money; until that point, she'd held to the misguided
notion their persecutor was at least vetting his clientele;
looking out for them. As sobering was the 'move' to the shared
quarters 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 1st, a place he'd explained was for 'specials'
when a John spent more than an hour or 3 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'd
separated them, sending Kathy off in the company of another
brunette, while a 2nd blonde drove Melissa to a bachelor party
where they'd been expected to dance, then put out. On the way
back, Mel had made the mistake of asking about the girl 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'd taken turns humping into both women again and
again and again. 
	In doing so, she'd violated 1 of Tom's rules: 1st names or
nicknames only. She'd thought 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 Melissa was
insulted, to Melissa's horror, the girl had proceeded to tell Tom
about the conversation. Tom had calmly kissed the girl,
whispering something in her ear, then had turned, and smiling,
had told Melissa he was transferring 2 of the other girl's 'weeks
of service' to Melissa as punishment for her disobedience. 
	It was the last time Melissa did anything regarding her '2nd
career' without considering her 'master's' rules. What had
frightened her most at the time was the thought that she'd have
to 'work' for 2 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 she'd have to service. The
subtle shift from quantity 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' night out' to get their
stories straight. At Tom's suggestion, both were asking
co-workers about movies 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 there, and
several of them were after me for 2nd's. I only have 2 left."
Shanille laughed. 
	"Girl, you got to learn to, like, make them last. They wear the
coat if they want between my legs, and if they put it in back,
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 smiled 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, hair disheveled, eyes more blank than
Melissa's had seemed a moment before. Melissa rushed to her
friend, 
	"Kathy? 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 voice was nearly a shout, 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 Melissa would repeat 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 it unlocked, and began to open it, worried at what she might
find behind the thin plywood barrier. 
	Kathy's dress... Tom's actually, sine he provided all of the
clothes-what little there were of them most often-for their
'dates, weren't hanging on the hook by the shower or in the open
hamper atop the semen stained clothes 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'd 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 it rebounded from the rubber stop, closing back 1/2 way
before Melissa stopped it, staring at her friend. 
	The hand-held showerhead was positioned firmly between Kathy's
legs. Her dress was bunched at her waist, exposing her trim, taut
thighs and hips, calf muscles tensed as she crouched. The
brunette's eyes were pinched in response to the discomfort of the
steaming 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 the fateful trip to Las Vegas,
neither could claim such any longer. Their 1st 'trick,' with the
foreign business man or dignitary and his bodyguards, Melissa had
thought she'd been torn apart; she'd limped into the Plaza
apartment, expecting to find on her abused body signs 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 they did. 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 had realized the 'veterans' used in both
orifices; no telling what the men they were meeting would want to
do.
	Melissa had quickly decided all men had a basic perversion-a
need to do things to women the women would not typically offer or
enjoy. At the same time, she couldn't deny that sometimes as a
man had thrust eagerly at her backdoor, she'd cum as strongly as
any time she had a man filling her cunt. For Kathy, who'd more
frequently taken men in both holes at once, since Tom had 'turned
them out,' 'doing' anal seemed 2nd 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 doubted, or
whether the men seeking Tom's assistance had problems with all
but 'professionals' due to their size. More than once, Mel had
heard Tom or another girl laugh when someone complained about a
guy being 'too big,' pointing out that if a baby could pass
between a woman's thighs, no cock 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, either. 
	Mercifully, few had been close to the size of the tool swinging
between Tom's thighs or some those the women had survived in
Vegas. While most she guessed were a bit larger than Jeff's-when
she allowed herself to compare-she could remember at least 3 men
who'd been much smaller than her husband; those occasions she'd
been 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 said a silent thanks for the continuing rain
outside as she bent toward her friend, aware she was getting a
bit wet in the process. 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.
	"Kathy! What's wrong?" Her friend blinked, wiped feebly at 1 eye
with the back of her hand, smearing mascara over wet skin, her
gaze finally focusing and meeting Melissa's. The eyes mirrored
the emotional void Melissa had feared she saw in her own
reflection 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 clothes. 
	Despite the steam filling the small space, Kathy was shivering
violently, her face 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?" her voice was
plaintive. She didn't stop to think about the solution that came
to mind 1st, "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, "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 mumbling,
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 certain whether Tom needed to
be called. He'd given them an emergency number, warning them any
abuse would increase their 'debt.' She'd read enough thrillers to
guess the phone wasn't his, and that any use would mean his
changing to a new number... 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 he got 'emergency'
calls. Melissa cringed, wondering about the severity of the
penalty if she called. 
	She delayed, more concerned with her friend's immediate
situation. Kathy had quieted, her body jerking periodically with
persistent but silent sobs as Melissa finished drying her off.
Grabbing the robe 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 someone kept on the bar between
the kitchenette and the main room. As an afterthought 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 2nd and 3rd glasses-smaller volumes, mercifully-went
down as quickly. 
	Melissa set the 1/2 empty bottle on the pressboard 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, her body relaxing. Melissa saw she
was biting her lip absently in worry. They'd always been close
friends, and the shared misery 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; there simply wasn't enough
time for them to be together apart from the time they'd
surrendered to Tom. Resisting the urge to kiss her friend with
the passion 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. Mel waited, but no explanation was
forthcoming. 
	"What broke, Hon?" She saw Kathy blink back a tear, 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... I can't go through with it." Melissa
imagined herself in Kathy's shoes, 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." Realization struck home with 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... took me out to dinner, believe it or not," Melissa
suppressed a sudden jealousy; none of her tricks had seemed at
all interested in her. "We danced, 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 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,
cumming and cumming and not caring that it wasn't Fred-hell, I
was glad 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... those Kegel things? He held on
to my hips and held himself buried, and I swear, 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.' I froze. I
remember turning around. And seeing his cock, jutting out of the
torn end of the condom. My heart stopped, I swear. I cried out,
reaching down and feeling the 1st of his cum leaking out of my
cunt." She stopped for a moment, controlling her emotions with
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,
and God help me, I was humping up at him, ready to let him fuck
me like that as long as he wanted. I even kept cumming. It wasn't
until he led me down to the cab that he smiled-leered is more
like it-and said, 'Hope my baby has a good daddy to raise him,'
as he closed the door. 
	"I sat in shock throughout the ride. And the cabbie... he kept
eyeing me and shaking his head like he'd heard and knew what was
going on." She reached for the glass again, filling it 1/2 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
isn'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, 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 more for him. None of this can change,
and nothing will be sure for several days, but if you want, I'll
call 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 he missed the
excitement of the chase, and especially knowing he was the 1st to
adulter most of his whores' marriages. He considered calling the
apartment to see if there'd been any problem, but this was not 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 a doctor 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 he'd heard 'Tom's' sob story about
his 'girlfriend,' offering to run the tests for them, and adding
that he could get whatever pharmaceuticals 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, 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 so badly it had very nearly ruined that entire
branch of his perpetually expanding business. Luckily, the guy'd
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 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 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 2 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
it was about time to move on to another major city to 'open
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 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 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 2 decades he'd been plying his 'trade.' The 2 he'd picked
out of the yuppie bar would be his last 'crop' from KC. Given
that consideration, he was glad things were operating smoothly. 6
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
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 to the others irregularly lining the bar, "Time
was, 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 smiled, "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 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 3
rings. 
	"'Lo Tom, 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
he'd really enjoyed. 
	"Yeah. What 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 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 to find anyone else for... you
know. So I wanted to call and tell you." 
	"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 using his cell phone
would cost her; she'd learned that lesson the easy way, watching
her friend get a couple 'penalty weeks.' He tried to calculate
the risks, based on the intimate details he required the girls
provide-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 she'd stop bleeding, so he could work her every week.
Of course, it wasn't all perfect, he knew; other questions needed
answering. "You clean?" 
	"I swear it, man. Swear it. 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 you cum inside 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 Tom sent you. He'll
collect the money for 2 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-up. 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, you thinkin' you're gonna take her away from all
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 next time, man. Have to see how all this shakes
out, 1st. Now you got that address and name?" He listened as the
man read them back in response. "Good. Now I gotta get ahold of
the bitch and get this straight. Hope you had fun, man." 
	"You 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 at 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 when at
the end. He guessed they were tired of leading a double life. Of
course, he led a double life as well, a thought which brought
another smile 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'd met him, he knew. Almost universally, by the time their
debt was paid, they'd been beaten down by the guilt they felt for
what they'd allowed to happen again and again and again. It got
to the point they didn't really seem to care any more what
happened to them; as if they deserved whatever punishment 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
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... The bars south of the border and the estates in the
Middle East provided 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, headed 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 1st pair was
ready to be reeled in, and then he'd hand over the reins of the
operation, for a tidy little cash chunk and a continued
percentage of the girls' earnings.

Part X 
	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
place, 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 there was some way
out; something about Tom she could learn, then trade for she and
Kathy's freedom. 
	At times, she remembered his casual suggestion that 'recruiting'
their friends would earn them credit and speed their release, but
she doubted it would be enough to matter, and couldn't bring
herself to help the monster who dangled her future over her head
do the same to other women; even women she hated, as he'd
suggested they think about 'volunteering.' She'd heard some of
the others laughing about it. Felt sick at heart that he could so
totally dominate the women that they'd turn on even 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 she'd seen walk into the
apartment or the things the other women carried. Some of the
others seemed quite willing to trap other hapless woman into the
life of sex for safety (not for pay, she kept telling herself). 
	Tonight had been the 1st time she'd been glad she had a 'pimp'
to take care of problems, never considering 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. 3AM Friday morning.
She wondered if the weekend would be her own or if he'd steal
more time from her again. Resigned that she'd probably be
'working' again, she paused in the kitchen, quickly downing a
glass of Merlot, then returned to the 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 paying her time off by sending other women out to appease
strange cock. The woman told her to wait, and a moment later, Tom
was on line. Melissa felt a familiar combination of attraction
and loathing, for once more the former, considering she was sure
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 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-" she was sure he meant
another morning after pill-"then." 
	"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 tomorrow
morning." The line went dead before Melissa 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 2nd week
of her prostitution. 
	She'd left school early the 1st afternoon she'd sat down at
lunch to calculate how far she'd gotten into 'paying her debt.'
It'd been the Friday after the 1st time he'd separated she and
Kathy. Including the Saturday (and even Sunday) tricks Tom had
demanded, she'd stared in horror at the number she'd roughly
figured: she'd slept with 40 men in less than 2 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 wouldn't
stumble on 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 decipherable information,
really. The running total was even a help at times; she reasoned
she could be free of Tom in only a year at the rate he was using
her. 
	Other times she was sure she'd already gone too far, and knew
that whatever Tom did, she'd never be the same. 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 a whore. 
	That thought of that term prompted another hit of the Crown/
coffee mixture, and then she put the thermos back in her desk,
telling herself the arousal she was trying to ignore was caused
by the knowledge 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 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
she'd ever visited. She sat in the barely adequate furniture
after ringing a buzzer positioned on the desk; tried not to think
about the additional 2 weeks Tom had demanded for her letting a
'John' cum inside of her; not the accidental 'dose' as he termed
it, but the 2nd and 3rd times. 
	It embarrassed her that he'd known so much, just as she'd been
embarrassed when she'd gone back to the apartment, looking for
more sex with him 2 days after they'd gotten back from Las Vegas.
She'd known then that she needed more of him, 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 presesntly; possibly pregnant with a black man's baby.
A few minutes passed, and then 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 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. 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 kids to worry about, but she had
no doubt she'd lose her job, her friends, and everything she knew
and was comfortable with. She blinked, a sudden image of the
'outed' Kathy turning tricks on the street like a common whore
dancing behind her eyes. It would be the only thing she was good
for. She wondered if Tom would have a use for her when Fred
divorced her, and made no attempt to hide the truth from
herself-they'd already been perilously near divorce. 
	She'd known 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,
and she squirmed, feeling some impossible to prove guilt that
she'd brought it on them by somehow playing up to Tom that night
in the bar. The night neither could remember. 
	She wished she couldn't remember the nights since; the times
she'd spread her legs, letting total strangers have her in
whatever carnal way they desired. It sickened her that she'd
enjoyed their touch more often than not; that she woke wanting to
feel Tom's touch again. 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 2
chairs on the next row down as an entire basketball team had
taken turns fucking her and Melissa and a redhead whose name she
couldn't remember or hadn't learned. Tom didn't like his girls
'fraternizing.' 
	The trio had endured that humiliation a Thursday slightly more
than a month before, a few days after they'd met the redhead and
spent a morning simply lying beside one another as one man after
another took a turn rutting into 1 or the other of the trio. Tom
had explained 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'd stood watching one another go at it, laughing
and joking, comparing the women as if they were inanimate
objects.
	The businessmen had been almost embarrassed to see their fellows
rutting away on the same bed, though none had decided to skip
balling one of Tom's whores. So the callous attitude of the
players rankled, 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'd've stopped when she ran out
of rubbers. 
	The review of her recent 'activities' moved forward to the next
Saturday, after Tom had separated she and Melissa. Kathy had
found herself in the company of a heavier but more stacked
brunette and a black woman who thought she was God's gift to
mankind. Or at least to men. The foursome of Asian businessmen
they serviced weren't hung like most of the men Kathy had gotten
used to taking between her legs, but they were more contemptuous
of the women they were using than Kathy had imagined possible.
And they'd used condoms at a prodigious rate.
	The frequent switch from mouth to ass to cunt and back, each
change involving the ass Kathy demanding they change their
'raincoat' had angered the men and seemed to fuel their abusive
attitude. It was the least pleasing encounter Kathy had endured
to date-at the 2 hour mark she wasn't yet fully wet, and was
thankful for the lubricant 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 ass and wanted her
cunt, she realized the black girl was getting much better
treatment, and 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; 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 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. Kathy
blushed at the warmth the thought quickly built between her
thighs, but she didn't stop the memory, enjoying the mental
images of that 1st night. Even after the orgiastic flight back
from Las Vegas, she'd never felt so feminine; had never enjoyed
such pleasure as she'd known being with Melissa. She longed for
more, and thought her friend felt the same, but the whole of
their subsequent time 'together' had been co-opted by Tom and his
endless 'services.' 
	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 3 months. She wondered briefly if she'd
'known' him, but knew she'd never forget the men who'd used her.
	It seemed a ridiculous consideration until she remembered it
was the place 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 didn't know for 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." The man's voice was vaguely familiar, as
well. 
	"I am. I assume you know why I'm here?" 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 rest and gathering 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 blood in a syringe, dividing it into 3 tubes, then set
a plastic cap on the line, leaving it taped in place.
	"You'll 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 he'd been between her legs, 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 she'd gotten off twice before he'd stopped,
filling the condom he'd worn. She wondered if she should mention
knowing him, a naughty voice somewhere in her head suggesting he
could 'have' her fully,' then give her the pill for which she'd
come. She resisted giving in to 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. 
	"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 in about 8 minutes. Do you want
something to help you relax while we wait?" 
	Kathy bit her lip, wondering what the man meant. Then she
remembered he'd left the IV in, and guessed he meant some Valium.
She nodded, and he smiled briefly, turning 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 vial, the vial swirled 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 depressing the syringe's
plunger. When it was 1/2 in, he paused, taking a moment to fill a
2nd 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 barely conscious as he added a portion of
the 2nd syringe to the IV, flushing it with the rest of the 1st
drug. 
	"There, isn't that better?" he crooned, and smiled as Kathy
nodded drunkenly, the tip of her tongue lolling at the side of
her mouth. Her eyes were 1/2 closed, pupils constricted, her
breathing shallow and a bit faster than it had been. "Yeah,
that'll take care of anything, baby," Michael crooned, smiling to
himself. The woman had to be a drug virgin to be hit that hard;
he bet she didn't even drink enough to get seriously hammered. Of
course, having learned how Tom found his women, he understood
they'd be the most responsive to the roofie cocktail 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 to
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 inconstant 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 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 it would assure his bitches
remained 'faithful.' 
	He eyed the striking brunette he'd just dosed. She'd been a
great lay the day 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 Vagal 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.' 
	He closed the door behind her, waving, and after she'd turned
the corner and didn't return for a moment, 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 connection if
she was hooked? and what hubby 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 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 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 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 his supply-and 'his new girl' (he already thought of
them that way) would do whatever he wanted. 
	He knew Tom was opposed to using the drugs so casually; the man
was sure it would backfire 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 the brunette would be their
guinea pig, and 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 eagle and stark naked on the
rubber mats before. She was prettier than he'd guessed, and he
suddenly realized 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 he'd given her wouldn't make her dependent on its own,
but it would be a perfect adjunct to the other little wonder 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 at
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 the nipples, already rising in the cool room air, then
moved back, spreading her legs and pausing to collect some
sterile lubricant on his fingers, he dipped 2 fingers between her
pouting labia. They slipped inside effortlessly, and within 4
strokes, the woman was moaning softly, her body undulating,
welcoming the intimate touch. He'd waited in hopes 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 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 the fingers now wet with 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,
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'd 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 she was looking at herself;
that was what she was feeling. The knowledge only made the
sensation grow, the building pleasure and its accompanying ache
for release 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 every cell. She
wanted to beg him to fuck her; didn't care about a condom; didn't
care if Tom would get mad 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, placing his thick, naked thighs between hers, his
manhood jutting at her, heavy with potency. She whimpered as he
slipped into her effortlessly, wishing she could make her legs
move, wanting to lock him inside of her thighs, inside of her
body. He was her entire world in that moment, and as he thrust
easily in and out, 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 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 muscles undulating over her flat stomach that she'd cum
repeatedly. He'd given her the rest of his special cocktail as
he'd 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 he was providing her, would be
linked together in her memory. Tying the pleasure of sex with him
to the effects of the drugs would bind her to him, however he
chose to use her. drug hit would bind a woman to her pimp, or any
other man he chose to use in a similar setting. Of course, he
knew it sometimes took more than one session to get the women
drooling like Pavlovian dogs in heat when they saw him, but it
would happen, and the way this one was reacting, he doubted 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...
	Michael smiled, working in and out of her in long, steady
strokes. She really was an amazing piece of ass, and he was glad
she'd come up clean on the quick tests, so he could take her
without 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 cumming. Suppressing the urge to
shout, he tensed, letting 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 the bra over her
still hard nipples, and smoothing her blouse, as if she'd loosed
it to provide the urine sample. Her panties 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 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 1st part had gone just as Tom had predicted, and he'd already
enjoyed a feverish evening with both women (a pleasant surprise
to find the blonde was a fireball once she got going) and been
amazed at the detached way 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 chase
down the clues Tom had insisted they leave, something Tom had
insisted wasn't bad, since it invariably meant 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 his contacts-like the tattoo parlor-for
Michael's 1st '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 the jet was no longer available for
reinforcing the women's situation, but that was fine, too.
Michael preferred to keep things local. He'd used fronts to hire
out a farmhouse. He was only interested in the barn, really. It
was miles from any other place 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 2 sultry co-eds from
a local junior college who'd reluctantly gone to work at the
local strip club, not knowing they'd soon be tricking, too. 
	Actually, Tom had only been a shadow for the 2nd pair, providing
quiet advice, distracting the waitress who started to get
suspicious, and serving as one of the many cocks Michael
'introduced' the women too their 2nd 'lost night.' His 'Mondays'
and 'Wednesdays' as Tom called them, referring to the night of
the week he'd continue to 'work' them, were running almost as
smoothly as Tom's last pair, which included the brunette he'd
just thoroughly enjoyed. 
	Tom had made it plain the women had to come away from their 1st
'introduction to prostitution' as he termed it liking the 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 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. 
	That's what had started his quest to find a way to chemically
reinforce that bond. The question was how she'd react as she came
down from her high. 

	It was almost 1 when Kathy staggered out into the waiting area,
still reeling visibly, eyes wide in 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 without hesitation to his crotch. He suppressed a smile
as she tried to compose herself and approach without letting on
what she must have guessed had happened. 
	"H-how'd it turn out?" she managed, blushing as he considered
before answering. 
	"Your tests? I'm sorry to tell you, but you'd caught-you were
pregnant. I already gave you the pill to take care of it, though.
Oh, and no diseases," he paused, "and I must say, you're tight
little cunt is even more agreeable than it was the 1st time I had
you." Her blush deepened, but she managed a quiet, 'Thanks,'
looking up to him as if afraid of his disapproval. She licked her
lips before she went on. 
	"If you ever want to... you know... just call me." She fumbled
in her handbag for a card, but Michael held a hand out to stop
her. 
	"It's OK. I have your numbers. I'm going to be taking over for
Tom." 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 from the rising
points of her nipples as her body responded to the knowledge he'd
just given her, and his delight at her physiologic reaction
battled with disappointment as he quietly reminded her she should
get back to work. 
	Kathy bobbed her head, 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 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 a 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 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 he'd given her, a more thorough and
complete release than she'd thought possible, and she'd quickly
admitted to herself after they'd 1st 'known' Tom that he was at
least so skilled with his enormous cock that she'd known she'd
want more of him. This man, though... it was something more
powerful, a physical need. Still shuddering with lingering
pleasure, she weaved her way back to work, not caring that she
was pantiless, a stranger's semen crusting on her inner thighs.
She wondered how she'd tell Melissa everything. 
	When she got back to work, the message light on her phone was
blinking. She listened, careful to use the handset and not the
speakerphone. As expected, Tom provided her with the next day's
'work schedule.' She and Mel were to be at the apartment no later
than 7AM. Deleting the message, Kathy tried to concentrate on
work, embarrassed when her hand kept 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 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 XI 
	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 drive at 6AM, 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.' 
	That led to a more grim discussion as to whether he'd keep his
word or string them along, but both women agreed they had no
choice any longer but to hope he was a man of honor if not a man
of morals. Resigned to another period on their backs, the women
parked near the apartment, anxious to be inside before 7, to
avoid any more 'penalty time.' Kathy couldn't bring herself to
tell Melissa she was already considering what she'd want when
they were free, a part of her mourning the loss of so much good
sex. 

	Inside the small apartment, they found 5 other girls already
waiting, 2 of them unfamiliar to both Melissa and Kathy. All
sported the ubiquitous tattoos and piercings, though, proof they
were all part of the mute sisterhood. The women eyed one another
nervously, none wanting to ask what everyone was wondering. Quite
simply, each knew that curiosity was trouble for Tom's
'pussycats.' 	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 those who knew each other
outside of 'work' like Melissa and Kathy 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 1st 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: greed, lust,
money, and jealousy led to a need to ruin someone's marriage, to
unbalance a boss or co-worker, or to strike out at a competitor.
He'd found such arrangements almost invariably meant his new
whore wound up out on the street, but that seldom mattered; they
had no other place to go, and free of the guilt they felt from
cheating, most 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 conquest in KC. 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 'seducing' the man's
wife might be impossible, or at best would take time. Which gave
him time to be sure 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 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, though, he simply wanted to know 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
awhile decide 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.
That meant 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 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 the real story; no point in getting involved in something
that could catch him, 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 the man turn his wife out-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 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, too. He'd 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 Tom had used in the plane and the
subsequent video shoot, not to mention the sizable 'retainer' Tom
always charged for such activities. Tom was guessing 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 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 make such a comparison; his own plan had long before
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
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 1 of 3 rooms he'd reserved in 2
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 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 the brunette was more than
ready to trick without an escort. But for that day, they'd 1st be
the entertainment for Mr. Hiram Schultz, Kathy's husband's
immediate superior. The man had wanted to include his friend, a
'renown scholar' he'd 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 he'd already spent it was his
right. But he couldn't turn it into a party for his friends. And
it'd happen when and where Tom said. Which meant today. 
After the man was through abusing the women, as Tom was sure he
would, Kathy and Melissa would trick for him like the other
girls, taking 4 or 6 men in the same room, 1 after another. They
knew the routine cold by then. Shag like nymphos to get the men
off as quickly as possible, pausing only to get ready for the
next customers. It was still 'convention season,' and Tom earned
a spectacular income working his girls in just the few hours each
morning and evening Friday, Saturday and Sunday, all of that over
and above the 'regulars' he provided for during the week and
weekend. 
Dealing with the ever-present stream of men eager for his brand
of call girl, his girls might take 2 dozen cocks in a weekend,
but such 'Home Stands,' as he termed them didn't bother most of
the girls. After all they offered no real chance for a 'John' to
get out of hand. And a girl putting out at every convention might
'work off her debt' in less than half the time, or so he pointed
out to the girls who hesitated when he called for convention
tricks.
Melissa and Kathy smiled in delight on realizing they'd be
'working' together. Tom wondered if Kathy would recognize the man
she was about to fuck; whether she'd realize just what had
happened to her. He doubted it; the research he'd done showed no
definite meeting, even at the 'collegiate functions.' Not that it
mattered. He was more interested in seeing how effective Mike's
'morphine therapy' had been; after the women had done their turn
pulling the convention train, he was going to use the same
camcorders he had set up in the room they were destined for to
Fred Dwyer's wife would lose it when her 'new black stud'
appeared. 
	Melissa tried to hide her arousal at the knowledge 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 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 she wouldn't-thinking of Jeff when
she was working; especially when the thoughts weren't charitable.

	She tried to tell herself the reaction was just her way of
dealing with the situation, but that excuse was sounding
increasingly hollow. It scared her, how excited she got-wherever
she was-at 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 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, 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
numbness, sure that she'd be glad of that during the coming day's
'work.' 
	They pulled into the worker's lot of the high rise building, the
concrete walls abruptly shifting from a tangle of competing
graffiti to plain slate gray where the 15 foot, concertina topped
fence prevented further encroachment of the inner city 'art
form.' The road sloped gently, 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 truck,
queuing up and obediently following him to the large freight
elevator. 
It rose at slightly greater than walking pace, ascending to the
tenth floor before Tom stopped it, handing a key to 1 of the
veterans and repeating the room number. The woman, a slight
Asian, nodded and left with 3 of the others, trying not to look
hurried. Mel felt for the women; it was always embarrassing
sauntering through a hotel decked out like the barely presentable
harlots Tom's clothes left them looking. It didn't matter the
people in these hotels were used to prostitutes, and wouldn't
know the women from Eve; none of them liked being reminded
exactly what they were, even if it was only for a time, and
wasn't by choice. 
	The elevator stopped again on 14-the hotel lacked the 'unlucky'
13th floor-and Tom released the 2nd group of 4, 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. 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 5 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 she didn't
look as scared as she felt. She nervously felt for the female
condom 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-none of her family ever looked into that-and wondered
if Tom wanted them to himself, in which case she could save the
expensive prophylactic for later. She grew flustered, acutely
aware she'd just considered it a good thing to be having sex with
the man 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
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 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 known the last
time she'd been on vacation with her family-hotels held no more
horror than she'd faced-intent on enjoying the view. 
As she moved from the narrow hall where the door to the bathroom
was situated to her left and into the main room, there was
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 Melissa the remainder
of the way into the room, forcing her to sit on the far side of
the bed. She realized he'd dragged Kathy in after, letting the
door swing closed behind them. 
"I told you to stay downstairs and wait," Tom said, his voice
muffled strangely, until Melissa realized 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;
Melissa guessed Tom hadn't done business with the 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. You done this sort of
thing before?" 
	"Never!" he sounded insulted, "You know why I'm doing this... I
just-" 
	"Save it," 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 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."
	"Yeah, 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-you don't go around the world bare, you
hear me man? and only in his 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. 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-the 1st time 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 to the door, then paused and turned, "and you're right. I
wouldn't hang around downstairs when I'm done if I was 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 the wall to the bathroom
hardly looked like a man who'd pay for a hooker, though in the
next moment, she admitted she could hardly guess which men would
or would not seek out a hooker for their pleasure. For one thing,
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
paying to use her for their pleasure. 
It was no wonder he'd felt uncomfortable downstairs, she mused,
remembering the way she'd felt the 1st few times she'd been
brought through the lobby. He was short and more than slightly
balding, the hair that ringed his pale head 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 her father had worn. 
He was older, by maybe 20years, though it was hard too tell for
certain. He had a weak chin besieged by a 2nd flabby chin that
hid part of his collar, and 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. 
His attention, though, seemed focused on Kathy exclusively. The
man licked his lips nervously, and set down the book 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, less bulky than some of the men Melissa had
'entertained,' but somehow flabbier. He removed the jacket,
setting in on the bed he'd just occupied as he moved around to
stand in the space between the beds, opposite 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
'Sans-a-belt,' until he stood there wearing only a pair of pale
blue boxers and black socks. He hesitated, as if uncertain what
to do, then almost reluctantly pushed the boxers down. 
	His paunch hung low enough it was hard to see his equipment, and
for an awful moment, Melissa wondered if he had a cock. He
shifted and the head peeked out, looking like a pink turtle-a
small pink turtle. Moving around the bed, the man paused, seeming
to teeter backwards, then abruptly began to wank as he loomed
before 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, and blinked, looking down at Kathy, who seemed barely aware
he was standing before 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, seeming 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 his throat.

	He gasped as Kathy pushed deeper, sucking at him hard, and
Melissa knew her friend was sure her 'John' was ready to cum. She
wondered for a moment that Kathy hadn't made the man don a
condom, but 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 the man's cock between her lips as she swallowed
the last of his load and caught her breath. She dutifully cleaned
the man's shaft, bobbing her head more quickly than before. She
released him a moment later, lying back on the bed, still
clothed, but in the pose Melissa recognized herself assuming in
the moments before she expected a man to violate her most
intimate treasure. 
	The man stood panting between Kathy's spread knees, eyes on the
ceiling. A hand dipped between his legs, cradling, then wanking
his spent cock. 
"That was... I don't understand," he said to himself, "So much
better than Julia." Melissa abruptly realized there was a ring on
the man's left 4th finger-he was married. "How can that be?" The
man was beside himself-seemed to have forgotten them again. He
blinked and glanced down at Kathy then, "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 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, tapping a foot
impatiently as Kathy stood and quickly slipped out of the
revealing dress Tom had selected for the day. The lace bra and
panties followed, leaving only the heels, before she returned to
the reclining position she'd assumed. 
	The man stepped to 1 side-away from Melissa-then back, his eyes
roaming over the brunette's naked skin. Grumbling, he stepped
back and opened the curtains, letting the sunlight bathe both
women, though his gaze remained fixed on Kathy. He stepped close,
bending over the brunette, reaching down to touch the tattoo
beside her pubes. 
	"This?" 
	"A gift from my master," Kathy's voice was quiet. 
	"Your master." the man paused, then nodded his understanding,
"From Tom?" Kathy nodded. 
	"What does your husband say about it?" he leaned back, arms
folding 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, blinking to keep from crying. 
	"and he doesn't suspect you're..." Kathy shook her head, the man
mirroring the motion. "The nights you're out late? The weekends
you're out all day? The little sexual tricks you've 'learned'
that slip into your lovemaking 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 bet it's hard. Knowing
things you didn't before; places you want him to touch you; ways
you want him to fuck you; but you can't tell him. Can you even
get off with him, anymore?" Kathy's jaw tightened as she nodded
mutely, tears streaming freely down her face. 
"You can't tell him you enjoy being a whore, can you?" Kathy
looked down, 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
1st time, the same smile on his face 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 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 shook his
head, "It's a shame, really. But it had to happen. Someday maybe
you'll understand." He looked back to Kathy, "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 trembled as she whispered it. 
	"Fred," the man repeated it smugly. "Is he as endowed as I?"
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," the man's smiled 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 1 hand, using the other to push
the head of his renewed cock down into Kathy's sex. Her eyes
flickered closed as the man thrust slightly getting his erection
seated in her sex. 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 Kathy gasp. The sound seemed to be
all he needed; grunting, the man threw himself forward over
Kathy's supine form and began fucking into her as fast as he
could. Kathy's hand scrabbled over the sheet, and on impulse,
Melissa took it, squeezing it to offer a reassurance neither
expected to last. She fervently hoped he'd be a quick cummer his
2nd bout, expecting he would choose to sample 'around the world,'
and so 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 on shaking arms to gaze down at Kathy's face. 
	"Tell me 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 Kathy's lubricant filled
pussy. Kathy's 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 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 pull at the labial piercing. Kathy's head tilted back and
Melissa guessed the man's touch was at least building her friend
toward an orgasm.
	The man was obviously a clumsy oaf, but the piercing had
increased their sensitivity; made it easier for even a bumbling
fool to get them off. Within 30sec 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, heels digging into his meaty ass, trying to spur him
on, but he ignored her, pumping easily in and out. 
	As Melissa heard her friend's breathing change, she realized the
man had, too. He stopped, pulling almost entirely out, and
teasing his swollen cockhead against Kathy's cunt and clit.
Melissa knew what he was doing, though his flab hid it from view.
Kathy whined, trying to hump up 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 against him. "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. Dipped into her
fully, then backed out, smiling more broadly at her increased
efforts to hold him inside of her. 
	"Please!" she gasped, hands closing over his ass, trying to pull
him too her, "Please fuck me." 
	"Is it better than at home?" he teased, and Kathy's back arched
slightly, but she was too close to be offended; she was near
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, cold air slipping between their bodies. Kathy whimpered her
plea for him to stop teasing and take her. He ignored her. "You
have to tell me. It's better than at home." He shifted, letting
the glans move over her clit. 
	"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. 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 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 bet
ol' hubby would freak if he knew I get you off better than he
can." Melissa wasn't sure Kathy was hearing anything the pig was
saying. Her mouth was open, 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 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 beggin for my sperm. I feel it
milking me... Milking me... Ahh!" he stopped, holding himself
inside of her, and 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 cumming, 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, 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 a reason 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 he'd wanted her hand on his
cock and her mouth between Kathy's legs-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 palatte on each downstroke-nowhere
near the biggest she'd 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 Melissa's deft
fingers had triggered. When he pushed her away, Melissa leaned
back, wondering what the man would want of her, but he again had
eyes only for her friend. 
He leered at Kathy, who was barely aware of anything but the
pleasure Melissa's fingers had caused. Wanking his nearly hard
cock, he moved off of the bed, circling 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 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 20min 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, 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 his many faults, Fred had never been
abusive; had never forced himself on her like this leech. 
	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; better to put out for every man within 4 blocks
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 laboured, as if he'd been running, but
he kept talking. 
	"Oh, he hasn't had your ass?" He sounded delighted, and Kathy
felt his cockhead swell against her pucker. "Then I'll be the 1st
of sorts, won't I?" Anxious to have it done, Kathy nodded
briefly. 
	Still chuckling happily to himself about 'being 1st,' the man
pushed blindly at Kathy's asshole. Before he could become
frustrated, she reached back, guiding the tip into her backdoor,
wincing at the momentary discomfort despite the lube 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 she expected he'd want as
he humped at her ass mindlessly; no finesse at all. 
	She wondered how she'd come to enjoy his fucking her cunt
before, but didn't focus on it, dropping instead into a groveling
position and murmuring mindless encouragement 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. 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. 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, heard Melissa's voice,
dripping with the false sexual hunger John's seemed unable to
recognize for what it was. 
	"Maybe you need another honeypot, sugar." The man stopped short,
leaning heavily over Kathy's back. He was panting so hard 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 to
the side as the man still thrust into her ass hesitated. She
couldn't see the man's expression, but he was undoubtedly ogling
her friend, who lay on her back knees wide, the fingers of 1 hand
busily frigging her glistening slit while the other tugged at her
pert, deep tan nipples. 
	Melissa's mouth was open, tongue flickering over her red painted
lips, eyes 1/2 closed as if she was already near orgasm. Kathy's
heart went out to her friend; not so long ago just batting her
eyes at a stranger would've been too embarrassing. She knew 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 of any woman and she learns to like it. I'd thought to
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, into her. He was grunting and
gasping, the arm supporting his torso over Melissa's bucking body
shaking with effort. Still he managed to talk, his voice a harsh
rasp between panting breaths. 
"This what you wanted, slut? This what you need, 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, meaner comment, and he was thrusting at Melissa
brutally, no thought to offering 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 better 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 swiveled, 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 toward Kathy,
"Your ass! I have to fill your ass; make you mine." Kathy felt
her head shaking, and without thinking about what it would mean
if Tom heard, 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, felt the
heated plume of his cum spraying barely into her arse. Instead,
she tensed her body, groaning and shaking as if she was overcome
by the sensation. He seemed to calm as his climax subsided,
climbing back off of the bed completely, barely looking at them.
He nodded once to himself, stepped hesitantly toward Melissa then
stopped, shaking his head, and Kathy thought, muttering, 'My
fault... should've known.' as he grabbed his clothes and nearly
ran to the bathroom, shutting the door. 
Rolling to her side, Kathy drew her knees up and sat shaking
violently for a long moment, wondering what the past 90min had
been about. It didn't make sense, but she knew there was an
answer. She guessed 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,
draining it with equal ease. 
	"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 2 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 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 long moments
they clung like that, each finding solace and something more in
the intimate embrace. There was the desire for more, but each
knew 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, gave a strange shrug that
might have been an apology or a question, and after hesitating a
moment he pulled 2 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 waved the money faintly, "Don't tell Tom. He won't know
about it; it's for you." 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 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
Tom knocked and entered the room, Melissa had emptied 2
additional bottles from the bar, hiding the scent behind an
impossibly strong mint gum that came in a tin like Altoid's. 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.
Instead, she held up the bill 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, "I'll deal with that small
dicked loser later. Someday I'll explain what that 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 rose. 
"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 I know downtown here." The women nodded meekly-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 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 1st pair in to our 4th suite." 

Part XII 
	Melissa and Kathy barely had time to get settled on the bed
before the door opened-without so much as a knock-and 2 large
strangers filled the hallway. They grinned appreciatively at the
scantily clad women, murmuring to one another, and reaching some
agreement, moved into the room. 
	"Tom said we're 1st," the older man leered, his face pocked with
acne scars. "Guess we'll get you broken in right." He'd selected
Kathy, who nodded, flashing 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 a real cock. I thought he was
talking shit." 
	"Yeah. We got to call ol' Tom more often, he gettin' girls like
this." The 2nd man was already fondling Melissa, who was pressing
her chest against the his 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 most
nights, and fucking, which they were expected to do for the next
couple 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 10min. 
	If the line of waiting Johns backed up, the women would be held
responsible. The 1st time they'd done a Saturday stint '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 at her
mouth. But she'd gotten through, and as she'd cleaned up
afterwards, Melissa had asked the more experienced girl who'd
been working the couch, of all places, while they'd used the
beds, how she could enjoy being used as a cum sack. The girl had
laughed. 
	"Honey, if you don't, make them think you like it, it can take a
man all day to get off. Make him think he's driving you wild, and
he'll cream before he's all the way inside of you." So she'd
tried it the next time, and while it still wasn't enjoyable for
her, it had gone much faster. Late in the 3rd session, she'd
actually climaxed as she'd been begging a stranger to 'fuck her
harder,' and while she'd been embarrassed and humiliated thinking
about it later, like she was at 1st whenever she came while she
was 'working,' it had made things much easier to deal with. 
	So she'd 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 playing at cumming with a John. Melissa had leaned
back, opting to play coy for her 1st John. 
	"Do you want me, baby?" she cooed, letting an index finger trace
over her abdomen to her crotch. The man's answer was a thick
tongue licking 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 20min fuck.
When one of them complained to Tom as he ponied up a wad of $20's
to cover his bill that 20min was barely time to get hard, the
pimp had laughed and assured them they wouldn't have a problem
getting it up or getting off in that time. 
	The men didn't waste time with foreplay; the only pleasure they
were worried about was their own. The man ready to mount
Melissa's petite form didn't even bother with his boots, leaving
his jeans around the tops and leaning against the bed to set his
cockhead against her seam. It met her hand, and in the next
moment, she'd rolled a day-glo yellow condom down his length as
he thrust into her. He considered complaining, but knew the rules
and was amazed the woman had done it so skillfully. It was like a
sexual sleight of hand even as she pulled him into her sex. A
moment later he was grunting and pumping against the white slut's
spread thighs, spurred on by the groans and squeaks she gave each
time he plunged into her. For a moment he didn't think she could
possibly be the white housewife Tom had claimed, but a glance at
her hand showed a ring, and he doubted the rock was CZ. 
He looked up to see his buddy thrusting madly into the brunette,
whose legs were cinched tight, letting her pump her pelvis up to
meet each stroke. He felt the blonde pumping up to meet his own
driving cock, heard her quiet exclamations urging him on, and
then the small form beneath him went stiff. Sure enough, she was
cumming, 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 against the trembling woman 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 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 moments before was calmly wiping her inner
thighs with a hotel washcloth. Or that she deftly stripped the
cum filled condom off of his cock, cleaning his shaft with the
same towel in a single stroke. His friend had been similarly
dealt with, and less than 10min after they'd entered the room,
they were sheepishly buttoning and zipping up. 

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 housewives. They didn't know that Kathy was already ringing
the prearranged number to let Tom know they were done with the
first pair. The men were turning past the door to the hall 2
floors below before either managed a coherent thought. 
	"Damn, was she fine." 
	"Oh yeah. We should've paid for more time; 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," both sighed together, then left the stairwell to take the
elevator. 

Melissa and Kathy were already cleaned up and 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 sex with casual ease,
teasing just enough 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 nightstand
before their next 'guests' arrived. The men didn't bother to
knock, and certainly didn't take any precaution locking the door.

Moving to the bed, they didn't bother with words, eyeing the
women, then each other, and by some unspoken agreement, each
taking 1 of the pair where they lay waiting on the rumpled
spread. As she felt another strange cock slipping into her, true
contact prevented only by the thin latex of a 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 in 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 ply 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 full force as he saw that at the
end was a newer video set-up, with 3 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 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
he'd seen in the moment before the door had shut. 
He didn't know how long he sat 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 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 some of the fear
had become anger, first at himself, then 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 behaviour 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 bring 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 tell you, they can't know!" 
	"No? Well between the times you was ballin' them like a wild
man, all that shit about being responsible was loud enough 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 you'd fuck it up somehow." 
	"You can't use those tapes," Hiram interrupted, "They prove
you're a pimp-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 they wouldn't say 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-to make sure you don't go 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 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 to the cops and take
down my whole opereation? I didn't know you were pullin' in seven
figures, prof. 'Cause that's about what it'd take." Hiram wasn't
sure if he believed that comment, but reminded himself 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 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. Tom
waved off the professor's stammered protest. 
	"No, no, I don't mean your daughter, if you 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
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 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 he'd soon have a new 'white
housewife' to offer to his customers. "Those 2 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 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 I can make her a little
more... cooperative without someone noticing. Then we set her up
for a little re-education, and you'll have complete revenge.
You'll be able to make her squirm, since she won't know you know.
You'll know she's putting out to total strangers, cheating on the
guy 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 have a choice. I can let your wife see what you're up
to. Or your employer-2 on 1 with overtones of violence isn't
appreciated at a Jesuit school, is it? Or I could tell the
women-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 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 already had
several such pictures-part of his background check before he'd
agreed to 'recruit' the pair shagging upstairs. "and when she's
close to finishing up? I'll help you 'catch' her at work, so you
can leave her and not get totally ripped in the divorce." The
professor nodded his head slightly, and Tom hid his smile,
thinking what Mike would say about the prospect of a new
showpiece 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: everyplace wife goes; what she does;
who she does it with; 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 vanished. The man had brought him 2 grade A pieces of
ass, but was a shit who likely deserved having his woman fuck
around. 
He stepped 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, M," Tom asked, adding, "We have a bit of business arranged.
He'll be dropping some papers off for you to get to me." The
guard nodded silently and stepped around him into the room,
reaching to the high wall switch to turn on the light. 

	Tom waited until they'd left, then checked the recorders,
comparing the images he saw on screen with what he expected. The
girls on ten were cleaning up between sessions, while the girls
in 14 were working-he thought-their 4th group of conventioneers.
He noted with satisfaction that Melissa and Kathy were already on
their 4th pair of John's. As he watched, the fat man between
Melissa's spread legs threw his head back, and Tom was fairly
sure the businessman from Minnesota was pumping a load into the
condom. 
Checking his mental schedule, he decided to shuffle the last pair
to the girls on 14, who were also running fast; he wanted to see
how well Mike's 'new idea' worked. He reached for his cell, then
stopped and picked up the security handset instead, dialing the
clinic number. Mike picked up on the 2nd ring, asking how things
were going. 
	"Oh, I think I have something you'll love." Tom didn't
elaborate, "But I thought 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, lunch is
on you. And when people start to stare, it's not my fault." Tom
snorted in answer, and told Michael they'd be there in fifteen
minutes before he broke the connection. 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 XIII
	Melissa was lying flat on her back, legs spread, 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 2 are done
so fast if that the way you're greeting them." Melissa offered a
pinched smile, as if she was still aware what she was doing was
horribly wrong, but was somehow becoming used to it. She shrugged
in answer.
	"The faster we work, the faster we're free, right?" Tom bobbed
his head in acknowledgement, reminding himself the pair was still
new enough they were trying to do the 'necessary' tricks in some
amazingly record short time; another 6 months, and neither would
likely remember there was a 'goal.' Of course, the trick was to
keep them from spiraling into drug use and incaution-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-it risked crating
a stable of junkie whores. Michael had sworn up and down it
wasn't that at all; he kept babbling about conditioning,
insisting the sex would be all they got hooked on. Looking at the
women, neither of whom looked more satisfied having taken a
variety of cock in the past 2 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. "Get dressed. I'm
taking you to lunch." The women moved obediently, if not eagerly
at that, worry plain on their faces. 
	"Relax, ladies," he began, "We're doing barbecue downtown-very
little chance you'll see anyone you know." He smiled broadly,
"and I promise not to be pawing you in public. Maybe after
lunch," he offered them a leer, "Can't promise you I won't want a
little dessert." 
	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 garish lipstick and gaudy eye shadow. He would
have asked otherwise, but didn't want to interrupt the ritual he
knew they must 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,
standing before him in the revealing dresses and spike heels.
These were definitely two hot housewives; enough so he 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 claimed. 
	The women climbed quickly into his Seville through the driver's
door, Kathy going first, which left the petite blonde closer to
him. That was fine, considering he expected to be inside of her
in a short time. Before they'd even pulled out of the underground
parking, his hand was firmly planted between her slightly spread
thighs, 2 fingers working into her quickly responsive cunt.
Melissa let her head drop back, lolling slightly against his
shoulder, a faint smile on her lips, 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 he'd found
invaluable; the occasional reticent housewife, faced with
tricking for total strangers or dancing where hubby'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 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; 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 store'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, venomous glares that 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 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 sex, pressing hard. 
	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; didn't seem aware anyone else was 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 or suck or do whatever you want for you, man?!" He looked
around conspirationally, "Guess it's a good thing 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." As
they did, 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; seemed barely aware of
anything but the man on her opposite 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 are too hot for any one man, aren't you?"
Another brief nod, teeth digging into her lower lip again. "I bet
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. 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 Tom had worked completely into her role in
his stable would do something so blatant in public.
	But even as he told himself it was impossible Kathy shifted. 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, 1 hand on the
woman's head as she offered him a fervent blowjob. The wet
slurping and sucking noise seemed to fill the room, and Tom
self-consciously checked to be sure no one had noticed. 
	Melissa was still staring at the vacant spot where her friend
had been. Her eyes searched the restaurant as Tom's, 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 resuming 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 cumming 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, eyes
only for the man she'd just eagerly blown in public, not caring
if anyone else had seen. 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,
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, 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 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
she might have been getting herself off to alleviate what she'd
likely begun to feel watching her friend throw herself so fully
into the role he'd forced them to assume.
	Instead, Melissa had choked down all 3 of the airport-sized
bottles of Jack Daniel's she'd sequestered in her purse that
morning. She'd hoped to keep them for later in the week-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
lingered from the earlier binge. She couldn't believe Kathy had
done it so calmly. She was still afraid Tom would demand similar
treatment, 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
short.
	Kathy's behavior didn't change during the rest of the meal. She
hung on Michael's every word, seemed to hunger for his touch, yet
didn't act out or seem possessive or jealous. When Tom suggested
they head back to the hotel for a more 'friendly' discussion,
Michael smiled and agreed, then suggested he drive Melissa back,
while Tom returned with Kathy. Tom realized 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 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, she seemed unaware that her behavior had been
any different before. Tom told her to lean against him and she
did, submitting to his caress 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 he needed to
check before he bought into his partner's idea of a
'pharmacologic leash,' but there was so much potential already,
it wouldn't be easy to keep an open mind. Open pants, however,
were a different story. Tom smiled as he considered the sort of
'research' he was about to do.

Part XIV 
	He and Kathy were the 1st back to the room-Tom had used the cell
to tell Michael to give them a few minutes. He had the brunette
suck him hard, again wishing 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 to her he was a
reprieve. He wondered if she'd been afraid she'd develop the same
attachment to a John. 
	She sauntered to him almost sexily, tugging at the front tie of
her dress and asking with her eyes if he wanted her bare. 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. 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 she shivered at 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 there was
probably less variance when the women were with men they didn't
know.
	He didn't wait for Kathy to leave 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 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 it was shock at 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 over her arms and thighs, and she was licking dry lips,
eyes locked on Michael as he stripped. She'd never acted so
wanton, even under the drug cocktail he'd used to ensnare them.
Melissa writhed and voiced her displeasure at his going still
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.

	"You want this?" Michael said 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. Tome 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 cumming. He allowed that
his methods had done well on turning at least 1 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 you like it?" Kathy blushed but nodded. "You'd let him
fuck your ass? Tell him how good it felt and squirm and moan like
you were cumming from my fucking you?" Another more desperate
nod. "You need it that bad?"
	"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, 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-what you are-in order to have my
cock inside of you?"
	"I'll tell him." Tom knew his mouth was hanging open; there was
no way 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 the 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 catch-get pregnant."
	"I know." 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?"
Michael withdrew a small syringe from his pocket. Kathy stopped,
but didn't back away. And didn't say 'no' to what Michael was
implying. She nodded after a beat. "This will keep you from
catching. 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,"
Michael whipped out a rubber tourniquet and applied it to the
trembling brunette. Within a minute the needle was in and he'd
injected the contents. As Tom watched, Michael released the
tourniquet and 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. 
	Michael crooned endearments over the brunette's bobbing head,
but was checking his watch as he did so. He abruptly stopped
Kathy's 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 toward her
naked dripping sex with a need 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 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 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 seizing in 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 whatever I say. Then you'll get my
cock. Get this pleasure." Kathy nodded slightly, still humping
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,
mouth open wide, chest not moving, as if she couldn't breathe.
Then she shrieked, loudly enough Tom guessed he'd have to pay
someone to fix it. At the same moment Michael went stiff, clearly
firing his jism into her sex. As Tom watched, the brunette's eyes
rolled back and she went limp, held up in part by Michael's still
firing cock. 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 2nd dose is usually easy to give. I used
to do it orally, but the absorption is so variable timing it was
hard. But you gave me the perfect out-the pregnancy thing. Mix in
a little 'morning after' med, 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... I don't know what all you can do
with it, yet. I just know it'll help create an eager nymphomaniac
housewife. Then it's easy to get them to trick; it'd be kind of
risky balling every guy 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 inhibitions and blurs pain,
so only the pleasure's left. There's a synthetic Ecstasy
analogue, to amp desire and responsivity, and a touch of sedative
also to help drop inhibitions, and to help with a retrograde
amnesia. And then there's a psycogenic compound; it's
experimental but it's easy to make and it works. It's not that
different from the cocktail you've been using for their training,
except for the psycogenic drug I add; 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 she had from the drugs.
Then drop the drugs, but she'll still have the feeling. And with
little doses now and then you reinforce that association. Or with
larger doses, you can 'shift' the association, say to her new
pimp or her sheik or whatever." Tom nodded his 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 smiled and Tom
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 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 he 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 woke, groaning and grasping her
temples in a vain attempt to shut out the headache chasing her
earlier binges. She treated it by opening 2 of the tiny servibar
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 you seemed quite smitten by that
guy that got you out of trouble last week."
	"Why did you say that?" Kathy asked, wetting her hair under the
feeble stream of water dribbling from the hotel showerhead. 
	"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 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 you did it. And
then I thought 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 they had some time together-it'd been too long
since she'd been able to show Melissa 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 I want it to feel like that again soon."

	The women lapsed into a companionable silence, broken by soft
moans as each unthinkingly began to soap and rinse the other,
hands tenderly reaching to ease hurt and then to bring pleasure.
It was another 20min 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.
	Afterward, lying arm in arm, Melissa thought about what Kathy
had said. It still didn't fit with the way she'd behaved. 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
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-had decided 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 the car, each leaning
against the other, finding some comfort in what they'd just
shared. And the promise they'd be together whatever happened as
they struggled to reach the magic 400. Something about the whole
day, though, kept nagging at Mel, even after she'd gotten home. 

Part XV 
	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 2nd, 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. 
	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
40min. She climbed out of the shower and still dripping wet,
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 at
the mall; just enough buzz to put up with the horrible things
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 aire 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 2nd and 3rd glass disappeared in the next
half hour without Jeff or anyone seeming to notice. Melissa felt
loose behind the pasted on smile. As she mouthed niceties and
greeted passers by and hangers on alike, she couldn't help but
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 in front of her
suddenly. She stopped, 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, 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 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
suggesting 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 in 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 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 he was a fellow teacher,
sure 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, terrified she suddenly would. 
	Her body felt suddenly numb, as she had come to associate with
the time she spent on her back, humping her sex against whatever
John was fucking her. A wave of nausea crested at the awareness
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 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 Jeff would know. The man offered an almost leer. "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 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 she'd...
serviced with her husband standing beside her; to feel her body
responding with a lust she almost couldn't control and feared she
wouldn't be able to hide the next time. She needed to speak to
Tom. She wondered if he would agree to arrange that she do her
'work' on the other side of the river, or in 1 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 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, 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 un-aroused she was even as he
neared his own climax; usually she'd be sufficiently excited
she'd be able to quickly finish herself off in the bathroom when
he'd rolled off of her.
	For a long moment, she was consciously glad 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 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, 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 kill. She
agreed to Jeff's suggestion of a bottle of wine, and had enjoyed
three glasses before their salads were finished. Jeff ordered a
2nd bottle for the main course without so much as a thought his
first glass was unfinished. Despite the booze, Melissa found
herself eyeing every man who passed their table, worried 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 2nd glance. 
	Chastened by the knowledge 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 1/2 pickled she
was aroused and could respond to the man she'd married as they
left the restaurant for their car. The paranoia of earlier eased
enough 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, breath catching at the
1/2 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 1 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," Jeff responded in kind, and 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 2 have a safe trip home, now." Melissa was still trying to
reassure herself the man had said 'amazing lady' and not 'amazing
lay' without considering the suggested intimacy of his comment
when Jeff chuckled.
	"Perceptive man. I 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 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 XVI 
	Sundays usually served 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 they desperately needed to talk to one
another, and were as certain 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; 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 they'd have
to eat together the next week; the sooner the better.
	"You OK?" Kathy was worried at the circles beneath her friend's
eyes, and couldn't miss the hint of alcohol on Melissa's 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 you're hitting it early. I'd've 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... wanting it to feel
different, but..." she wiped at a tear that threatened to fall.
	"Shh... 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 adjust to get
through it."
	"Maybe," Melissa sniffed, not sounding convinced. "But I told
myself 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
set about touching up 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 as people headed into
the sanctuary, and as usual, Melissa and Kathy sat together about
6 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 the 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!" 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 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: 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 am 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 she'd recognized him,
too. The women sat mesmerized as he licked his lips before
continuing. For a horrible moment, Melissa was sure 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 she was
about to be exposed in front of the entire church. She felt
Kathy's hand touch her thigh, whether to support or restrain her
she'd never know. She'd lost track of what the Deacon was saying,
and glanced around, sure she'd see every eye on her. 
	Instead, the other members of the congregation remained totally
focused on the dervish of a preacher 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
Melissa could remember; except that he'd been hunched over her a
day not so long before, thrusting into her in 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 any more 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 I'm saying anything is
wrong about your reaction to my little act," he smiled. "But I am
saying maybe what we need to regain... or to develop for the 1st
time... a sense of community, is 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." 
	He smiled again, then stepped back as the pastor reclaimed his
position at the pulpit, thanking the Deacon for his help, and
reiterating the importance of the conference 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 they would not meet the
deacon in the narthex. Kathy took the initiative, grasping her
friend's arm and suggesting she take Kathy home and put her to
bed, since she looked to be 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
he come along, that he could watch the game on the Sureham's
television. Fred begged off, grumbling unintelligibly about 'the
crazy satellite' system Jeff had installed some time before. 
	He trudged up the walk to the house and used the keypad entry
into the garage when Kathy pulled up at their home. He 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
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 1st 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;
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 1st he'd assumed the guy was a panhandler or reporter out for
the story of his success. On 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 so clear a picture
through an open window merely by chance when that window was on
the 12th floor. But suddenly unable to dismiss the stranger
leaning over his seat in the deli at the corner of his luxury
condo near the Plaza, Chauncy had struggled to remain calm as
he'd stuffed the photos into the envelope, praying no one else
had seen them and then trying to push them back at the calm
stranger.
	"I don't know what you think you're doing with these, but I
assure you I don't need them. That's not me."
	"Don't bother denying it. I have better images if you won't help
me out. Go ahead; keep them. Consider them a souvenir," the man
had smiled mirthlessly at his joke as he sat down. "They are
quite beautiful. And I have plenty of copies of those. Those are
for you." 
	Over a lunch Chauncy hadn't tasted, his 'new friend' had calmly
explained their 'arrangement.' He wanted 'an introduction' to the
man who 'protected' the women 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 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 he'd been a 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 the stranger was 'a business friend.' The man had smiled
patronizingly, shaking his head in response. He'd explained that
he was quite sure 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 he
noticed either of the women he'd been with, or 'others he
remembered.' Over the following 2 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 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 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 the man would let him off for at
least trying when he'd been summoned to a meeting in the coffee
shop in the building where he worked. Over stale Danish and drier
coffee, Chauncy had opened yet another envelope, which held a
blow-up of 1 of the photos he'd seen before.
	"What is that?" the man had asked in the quiet but fierce gravel
tinged voice Chauncy heard sometimes upon waking in the
morning-the remnants of a nightmare made real. Chauncy had eyed
the man, uncertainly; 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 2nd envelope,
the upper right corner covered by a variety of stamps.
	"Chauncy, Chauncy, Chauncy," he'd sighed, shaking his head.	"and
I thought you'd been trying to help. I thought 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 hiss.
	"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, had stood 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 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'd left the 1st of those
churches he'd arranged to visit that Sunday. He'd never stopped
to consider it was tied in with the whores. And he was certain it
would be fruitless; such harlot's wouldn't be found in church. He
also hadn't been willing to argue with the man.
	So he'd nearly lost his wits when he saw not just 1 of the women
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
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 statement until both men were safely out of
the church.
	"I saw." He said simply after they 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." He 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 a fool and drove out of the lot insisting he wouldn't
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 taken a roll of film surreptitiously; mostly worthless
shots of the back of the women's heads, but at least 1 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 his fate was no longer his to control. He'd almost missed
the women when they left, with 1 of the hubby's in tow. Jordan
pulled out of a different exit, then moved in behind them,
following at a comfortable distance to learn where they lived.
	He was delighted when a single trip revealed both addresses. His
initial thought-that they were going to enjoy a bit of kink with
hubby-was proven wrong, but the way the women moved together left
him wondering about something else equally intimate. He parked
down the street, glad that the neighborhood was busy enough his
vehicle wouldn't stand out, and moved confidently along the
sidewalk, slipping between houses as calmly as if he lived there,
while hoping fervently no one had seen him; the last thing a
black man needed was to be found lurking in the backyard of a
white woman. But the potential reward was more than worth 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 2y. First using 'official channels' and meeting grudging
assistance to open resistance sufficient that he had realized 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 there really was a Tom and a widespread
prostitution ring. And as friends and colleagues had written him
off it'd 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
Jordan Franks had suggested he was chasing a ghost, and that he
should instead roll up the networks he had proven existed in
state after state; rings of working girls he was certain Tom had
formed before moving on. 
	But Jordan Franks wasn't interested in busting a few dozen
working girls, who'd be out to continued 'their jobs' within
hours of arrest. 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. And especially
when he had found a path that was showing promise. Jordan had
decided his best chance to learn anything more about Tom was to
find an in through the 'consumer' side; he intended to become
Tom's clientele. 
	It could still go wrong if Graves went back to Tom; warned his
'supplier.' But Jordan 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
the man didn't rat him out. He was big enough and rough enough
that people believed it when Jordan made a threat.
	So while he was certain Chauncy would soon enough return to
seeking out 'new,' even 'exotic' pussy, he was equally sure it
would not be with Tom. Just as he had been sure 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. Jordan Franks was nothing
if not thorough.

	Luckily for him, the house to which he'd followed the women had
a high fence shielding it from neighbors' prying eyes, and was
old enough the foliage had grown, hiding large portions of the
back of the two story home. He was careful to be make certain
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 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 beats.
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 clothes. Though he'd considered
the possibility of some illicit 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 he had kept tucked
beneath his jacket, Jordan began to snap away as the women
continued, unaware of their observer. Jordan's 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 sex. 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, 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 glaze-allowing
Jordan to hear the sounds of the women's lovemaking. He wondered
if the neighbors heard 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 Franks hoped to solve.
	The brunette resisted her lover's efforts to return her
caresses, smiling and telling the blonde she 'owed' her for
'being there' in the last weeks. Getting up, she added that she
had a surprise, and headed toward the walk-in closet opposite the
door from the hall. Jordan could not see into the closet, and sat
patiently, remembering the self-assurance with which the woman
had moved, uncaring that she was naked with another in the room.
Her apparent ease with her own sexuality was further proof she
had more experience than the average housewife he had
encountered. And when she emerged moments later, Jordan Franks
was convinced he had at last identified an 'active' pair of Tom's
'Slut Wives.'
	She had stripped completely nude but for her heels, donning a
3in wide black plastic belt, from which jutted an impressive
glossy black plastic phallus. The blonde had been waiting
blissfully in the bed, eyes closed, and at a word from the other
woman, looked up. Surprise registered in her eyes-a first time
with this toy, he guessed-but was immediately suffused by need.
He realized 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 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
sex. Mel looked gorgeous lying more than 1/2 naked atop the
covers, skin dappled with gooseflesh, a contented smile on her
lips. She had almost mentioned to Melissa she'd picked up the toy
at 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 finished,
pausing dramatically a few feet from the bed. Her need to please
her lover-so unlike anything she'd ever known with Fred-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 responded. Mel nodded
slightly, spreading her legs, inviting her lover in. Moving
carefully but quickly, Kathy knelt between the smaller woman's
legs, a finger and thumb guiding the cock to 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
long slow strokes, with short, rotating thrusts. 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 she felt in her
limited control over their pleasure was almost as much a rush as
her impending climax. 
	As she drove fully into her lover's pussy a final time, her body
spasmed in 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 long 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 honey and lifting
it to her mouth before kissing Kathy again.
	Jordan realized 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 2 beautiful women fucking each other. His film
was gone long before they climaxed together, but he had waited,
unable to leave. And he knew it wasn't out of a need to gather
additional intel or 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, Jordan ducked under
the windowsill ready to move back to the gate to leave the way
he'd come.
	"Almost makes up for what we've gotten ourselves into, doesn't
it?" He froze, glad for another reason that he had stayed. He was
fairly sure it was the brunette who'd spoken. He chanced a peek
from the uncovered corner of the window, to see 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. 
	He noticed as she bent to step out of the assembly the shine of
a ring in her own sex, which was further proof the women weren't
simply bisexual housewives-he was sure from the limited material
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 1 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 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 I can get some satisfaction at home." 
	With that, she breezed into the bathroom. The door remained
open, though, and Jordan heard the water go on. He stayed in
place, his 'inter-personal radar,' attuned by thousands of hours
interrogating-the reality PC chose to label it
'debriefing'-suspects said the brunette had just lied to her
lover; something else was bothering her. 
	The blonde had prudently covered her naked form with the covers
and rolled onto her side. Jordan could tell from her breathing
she was already asleep. He didn't expect to learn anything else,
but realized 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 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, and if 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 lease because he was sure both women were really
married. But the fact that the women were willingly giving it up
would help his conscience; he was going to have to bang 1 or both
of them to get close to Tom, and while the idea of sullying their
marriage was repulsive, Jordan was enough of a realist to admit
he'd 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 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 he had rented downtown. For the 1st time in
months, he thought it might just work.

Part XVII 
	Franks 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 1st 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 4 separate panes.
Satisfied 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 if statistically tiny terrorist threat. 
	He removed his well worn work jacket and changed hats, then
wandered through the teachers' parking lot, bending to tie his
unlaced shoe and using the move to place a magnetic transmitter
under the bumper of Melissa's car; a 2nd transmitter had already
been left on the car outside her home, which her husband had
taken when he'd left for work. Jordan considered adding another
bug to the car, but reasoned he could use the parabolic mike if
he needed to hear her-music tended to degrade reception of
externally fixed units. 
	He found a gas station a few blocks away, glad he did not have
to resort to a bus bench or phone booth, and set a dual-band
slow-speed recorder atop 1 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 1st.
	He'd used a specialized receiver the day before to record the
signal husband's remote 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 both
worked outside the home, he chose the simplest way to get the
equipment 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 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-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; no would ever know the alarm had been shut
off.
	Taking only a few moments to familiarize himself with the basic
floor plan, Jordan 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 he left 50min later, he knew not only Kathy's full
name, and she and Fred's personal and employment information, but
also the blonde woman's name and number. He also had Polaroid
proof that Kathy's husband was sleeping around. It'd been
carefully hidden, but not so much so his cursory search hadn't
uncovered it; he guessed 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 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 he
would not 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 fisheye 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
church. He hadn't expected to see her-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 glasses glasses. A gaudy earring
replaced the stud he traditionally wore, completing his
transformation. Capping his shaved head with a hat 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 calligraphied card 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; Jordan
knew he'd walked through a concealed metal detector as he'd
entered the building.
	The elevator rose 2 floors to the appropriate lawyers' offices,
and consciously moving differently than he did as 'himself,'
Jordan 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, asking who'd sent them.
Jordan executed a carefully practiced shoulder shrug before he
checked the slip of paper on the clipboard he held in 1 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 1st 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 1. It was the typical pseudo-nice
'dealer pen' drug reps and other sales agents provide, 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." Jordan 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 she worked a list of 'regulars' for Tom. He wondered if
the reaction was fear or arousal, finding the thought she could
like a John over her man disquieting, but not impossible given
what he'd found 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 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 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
Jordan wished he had the toys the Fed-backed sting ops did. They
could afford more flexible, powerful, and expensive equipment,
collecting all sources output in 1 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 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 1 corner, several mismatched
chairs, and a pair of threadbare couches in the middle of the
room. At 1st, he didn't see the blonde. After a moment, he
realized 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 1 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 52 so far, and... What!?" Children glanced at
her but she was oblivious, and 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 52 jobs for
you, I... No, that's every 1 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 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. Jordan 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,
turned away from her fellow recess monitor and pulled 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 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. 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 2nd 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 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 they wouldn't say anything, 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-admitted he
isn't suspicious, yet... And then he got mad, threatening to
'fine' me for wasting his time. I tried to explain 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 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 50 'jobs'and he
laughed, asking where I'd gotten that number and telling me I'd
just finished my 32nd with you this weekend... I know, that's
what I said. But we were counting the guys we 'share.' He says
that if 2 women are working, and there are 10 men there, you get
credit for 5... I know! That's what I said. He just laughed and
told me I could complain to the better business bureau if I
wanted to be sure Jeff would find out everything... I know...
It'll be like 2 or 3 years... Yeah, I know... I Know! God, don't
you think I realize that? 
	"So I backed off; even agreed to work tomorrow, and right here
again, 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 Jordan, and then he remembered
again seeing the 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 husband the night before, Kathy with the
detachment she'd developed over the years of her marriage;
Melissa so tipsy 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 he would ask about
later.
	Unbidden, her thoughts turned to the last time she'd cum with
her husband. To her horror, she could not remember; the only
recent orgasm she was sure 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 be the same ever again, trying to understand how
or why her husband didn't (couldn't?) arouse her when her pimp
could. Unconsciously fingering her belatedly excited sex, she'd
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 4 lecherous lawyers and legal assistants, a part of
her laughing inside, 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 she wouldn't do anything-none of the men
was Mike. And whenever she thought about that-about him-her eyes
wandered to the flowers; she hoped he'd 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 it would be best to use separate excuses
for their 'work' that night; their husbands had begun to grumble
about the time they were spending together. Melissa called Jeff
at the office, claiming she needed to grade 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 prepared a case. That met with the usual grunt; he'd be
home tearing into his students' latest papers until precisely
9:30PM, 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 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-alone or together or part of a group. They didn't
really care. It was a chance to whittle away at the daunting
number 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 the make-up;
weren't to be too slutty in their dress; they were 'white whore
housewives,' after all. Melissa unconsciously added eye shadow
and reapplied mascara, then added lipstick, which she never wore
at work. Satisfied, selected a leather miniskirt and a baby blue
button front top, as well as black high heels, forgoing stockings
or hose as usual. She also ignored the lacy panties matching the
demi-cup bra that was partially visible through the shirt. 
	Opening the drawer at her spot in the vanity occupying 1 wall of
the main room, she uncapped the Astroglide lubricant tube 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 sex. A second squirt lubed her backdoor, after which she
reached into her shirt and applied Vaseline to her nipples, a
trick 1 of the 'long time' girls had shown her. 
	Trying to fight back a case of the shakes as she considered
she'd one day be considered a 'long time girl' by others, 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. 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 1 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 3 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
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 working a single 'regular' as Tom called
the locals who were steady clientele. Tom began passing out the
envelopes: room key, cab fare if it was necessary, 'customer'
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.
	"They don't want you to know their names." He dug a key out of
his pocket. "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
streetwalking 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 she'd brought more to drink. She
reminded herself 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 Franks 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 Melissa was 'involved'
elsewhere when she walked in through the main revolving doors. It
took a double take to realize it was her; the blonde hair was
teased in a sluttish manner, and she wore much heavier make-up
(still less than you'd usually see on a hooker) than he'd seen on
her at church or school. 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 1/2 of it at once,
then looking back. She was almost up to him, entering the bar,
where she took a seat 3 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, eyes still nervous as she looked toward Jordan, 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 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 toward her.
	"Now does that earn me a name?" She blinked, eyeing him with
some anxiety.
	"and you are?"
	"J 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 she might slap
him. Instead, she turned to the drink, emptying it without a
pause. He motioned to the barkeep, who quickly provided a 2nd.
	"I don't think so," she said after a minute.
	"Well let me call your secretary and we'll hook up another day,"
Jordan was winging it, hoping 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 nodded at the glass, already
1/2 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, head swiveling to look at
him.
	"You're Mr. Straight?"
	"My friends and I," the man offered that 1/2 smile again. "Why
don't you come up to meet them?" She nodded, draining the glass
before standing to go with him. Jordan watched in overt
amazement, then sighed and signaled the bartender for another
martini.
	"Damn," he sighed. "That's a fine 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 some of
that," Jordan murmured to himself as he stood 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 Jordan had expected, and when he turned, he found
himself staring at a man who did not fit the physical description
he had of Tom.
	"Really?" he managed. "You're not serious."
	"Oh, I assure you 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 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 Jim Franks."

	If it hadn't been for the fact she was beyond tipsy, Melissa
would've been scared. 'Mr. Straight' had been a perfect gentleman
until he'd closed the door to their suite where she was supposed
to 'entertain' her Johns. Almost immediately, 3 other men-not 3
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, open to their advances. She managed to remind
them they had to use the condoms she'd brought, and relaxed as
she saw them tearing the packages open. No one bothered with
foreplay; 1 minute they were stripping down and donning
'raincoats;' the next 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 try something else. The situation was maddening, made
moreso 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; 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 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 1 or another passed her on their way to
the bathroom or kitchen, seeming to take her on a whim. 
	She was soon trembling with embarrassment, having realized she
was being treated no differently than the furniture. But she also
refused to let them see how humiliated she felt; she stopped
trying to communicate and said nothing. If the Shriners chose not
to ball her as hard and fast and long as they could, so be
it-after 3h Tom would retrieve her whether they were done ornot.
	Which meant that when they did resume screwing her in
earnest a short time later, she'd nearly convinced herself she
wouldn't be so totally degraded as to be used for their ultimate
sexual release. As each thrust into her in turn until they'd all
filled their condom, tears rolled down Melissa's 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. 
	Or tried to; the moment she opened her mouth, someone clapped a
gag over her mouth. Totally broken, she lay 1/2 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 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 release her. No matter how bad she looked,
she didn't' want to spend any more time with these women hating
assholes 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 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 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 cockhead bluntly hammered her cervix
again; she was sure it was bruised, and wanted him to stop, but
knew that wasn't an option. 
	For a time she'd lost herself, imaging it was Michael thrusting
into her, and doing that she'd managed to get excited enough for
her partner to lose 1 load. But he'd 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 2nd time, leaving
her time to primp and clean up while Kathy tried to 'finish the
job.' 
	She manufactured a groan, pumping her hips to meet the man's
thrusts, and closing her eyes, fervently wished it were Michael
filling her sex. She felt a twinge at that, and struggling not to
lose it, managed a spark of arousal that in turn seemed to flow
into the guy banging her. He stiffened, grunting more loudly for
a moment and 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
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 1 after another of her 'customers' was taking a
2nd more intimate turn fucking into her until they came. Each
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, 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 1st of the
men to take her a 2nd 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, they stood over her, upending the
condoms 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 she didn't want to
see. Scooping up the tiny purse and her heels, she paused,
realizing they'd left the minibar open. 
	Without a glance over her shoulder she reached in, blindly
filling 1 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 24 hours. She eyed the elevator, then
remembered the spacious, well-lit foyer at the hotel's front. 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 1st of the bottles in her hand. Gin, but she swallowed
it like water, pausing only long enough to open the 2nd
bottle-tequila. 
	She sat for a moment, savoring the warmth in her belly, the 1st
pleasant thing she'd felt since they'd thrown her over the chair
like a side of beef. She stood again on shaking legs, suddenly
aware 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, headed 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. It was Tom.
	"You're not tryin' to sneak out are you?"
	"I..." Melissa bit back the anger that she knew could get her in
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 pleasure, just humiliating me." Tom nodded
knowingly, confirming what Melissa had suspected; it was a
punishment of sorts. "and it was 4 men. Not 3." His eyebrows rose
at that, and Melissa felt a strange delight, knowing 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
4 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 1 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 1 harsh trick. Just remember
that the next time you want to give me any lip." Melissa nodded,
letting him lead her back toward 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 doing
this work. But be careful that you don't get in trouble because
of that. Imagine if that wasn't me back there." Melissa 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
in the locked steel-reinforced back door. 
	Instead of heading up, though, Tom opened a 2nd similarly braced
door just inside and guided her down a flight of narrow steps
into total blackness. When he flipped a switch 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 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 1/2 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 2nd 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 had plowed her bottom early on, but they'd pretty
much stuck to trying to ruin her pussy for experiencing pleasure
anytime soon after that. She bit her lip, unsure whether she
could comfortably take her pimp in the ass without some vaginal
stimulation 1st. 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-stuff they use on horses and that athletes aren't
supposed to use, but it works. And you're a sexual athlete, I
guess. You'll be ready to ride in no time, I promise." She
nodded, taking the tube he'd offered. He smiled, broadly.
	"Tell you what. My new partner will be bring 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
she could blame cold air for her suddenly rigid nipples. By the
time Tom was naked, she knew 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 Tom bent his head, lifting 1st 1, then the other breast to
his lips, kissing and sucking at 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.
Melissa didn't hesitate; she had to feel him inside of her. 
	Reaching down, she held his swollen, rigid cock in 1 hand, while
spreading the deep pink lips of her sex, bringing him against
her. 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 she tried to repress insisted, there was also
pain, and when she winced, Tom quickly lifted her off of his
tool.
	"Shhh," he soothed. "It's OK. There's 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, Melissa welcomed his cock into her throat,
reveling in the pleasure that gave her compared to what had
happened before. It was proof enough she wasn't just meat. Her
head bobbed with increasing speed, and 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 ignoring
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
holding 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 he'd 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. 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. 
	Tom stepped out of the shower, nodding his satisfaction with
Melissa's behavior. He knew that Michael was right about several
things, even if he did have reservations about the drugs. Chief
among the rules 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 he wished he could bring alone
when relocating, Melissa was quickly proving herself one of the
rare, truly exceptional girls. The Johns raved about her, the
other girls had no complaints, and while he wouldn't admit it to
her, the fire she'd shown-a drive he knew she still had to
suppress-was attractive. 
	He hoped 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 something was missing; he guessed her drug-borne need to
be with Michael was 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?" She nodded, stopping the water and
toweling off, not caring that he was watching her. He liked
seeing that unconscious change. "Good. I'm gonna need you
tomorrow, too." She opened her mouth as if to argue, but shrugged
instead.
	"I know; that's 2 times here when you've said you're afraid of
the risk of seeing a 'local' 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 1st, 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 NYC or
New Orleans; I'll need you for that sort of thing 2 or 3 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; show him an especially good time,
tomorrow."
	"Does he have a name?" Tom smiled at the hint of the fire he
associated with the petite blonde returning.
	"Sure does. Told Michael he's James Franks. Now, Mike's going to
check him out, make sure 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 awhile ago, so I'm guessing you're gonna be
balling 'Daddy Warbucks' tomorrow night, Little Orphan Annie. Now
get dressed and get upstairs to 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 1 hand
after donning sweats that were hanging in the closet, and
checking that there was no longer cum leaking out of her well
plumbed ass, she grabbed the tube of medicated lotion he'd
provided, then headed up the rickety stairs, closing the door and
hurrying into the lighted hall twenty feet away, moved 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 1st 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, Melissa 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 in trouble
again. She knew Kathy could tell she was mad though. She held up
a finger, shucked the sweats she'd borrowed, adding them to the
laundry pile 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 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 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 good news!" Melissa paused, surprised that
she could 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... right now, at least." Melissa stopped
herself from saying anything more, but wondered how much of what
she'd just said was a joke, and how much 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 me your big kahuna may've found
me a regular. So 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
he'd be yours 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 2nd round-the men hadn't been as
spent as she'd thought when they'd seen her begin to play with
herself-imagining she was with Michael. And that it'd helped make
ho-hum sex almost orgasmic sex. She shook her head, aware 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've tried to ball you in his office."
	"He did... Try, that is!" Both women laughed-there wasn't really
a choice. A few minutes later, Melissa dropped Kathy off at the
law offices, before turning for home. Whatever residual pleasure
she'd known after being with Tom had become sufficient guilt,
though, that by the time she pulled into the garage she paused to
fix herself a coffee mug sized shot before she tiptoed to bed,
stopping in the bathroom long enough to apply a 2nd dose of the
lotion, and to remind herself that no matter how uncomfortable
sex might be the next day, she had to be more than good for her
trick the next night. 

Part XVIII
	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. 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 phantasm when he'd claimed 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 Jordan 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 a word the
madams employed) had invariably been exposed. 
	She and her peers had laughed at Jordan's 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 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 but 'locals' in those cases where
Jordan had asked about that-were not 'typical' call girls. The
tidbit a disgruntled John had offered up to avoid a soliciting
bust in Tampa had been that 'Tom' (a name 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 federal territory. 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 perp in his off
time. His goal had been to amass enough circumstantial evidence
to demand a task force at least address the issue. Instead, his
'personal obsession' had progressed in fits and starts, without
uncovering a 'smoking gun.'
	Others in the office and labs became less helpful, those who
truly considered him a friend quietly suggesting he back off for
his own good. To Jordan's disbelief, facts 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 of those allegations when his boss had shut him
down, ordering him to stop pursuing the 'imaginary super-pimp'
(her words) even on his own times and insisting he was 'wasting
Bureau resources.'
	He'd thought the high profile nature of some of the evidence
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 them
leverage in the future. He had no doubt his boss was innocent of
the involvement he believed someone in the Bureau was providing
'Tom,' but too late he realized his error. The big names he could
implicate might not have stopped an investigation, but a
bureaucracy 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 he had thought explained the total wall 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 cover-up when she saw it. And while she was too
politically ensnared in the machine that is the FBI to turn him
loose with the potential to hurt the agency, she couldn't... or
wouldn't let an agent of Jordan Frank's ability be squandered.
Especially when the activities were a sort of 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'd offered him limited support and
funding-the NSA and CIA aren't the only government agencies with
'slush funds'-while apologizing that the time he spent on the
investigation would have to be his own. She pointed out that
Jordan had barely touched his vacation, which had accumulated
over his nearly fifteen years continuous service, and had
promised him 'emotional distress' leave if that time was not
enough.
	Jordan had grudgingly taken a leave of absence, grateful that
someone at least believed him. And that the attacks on his
character stopped abruptly when he left the Federal building in
Dallas the day his leave began. But he had hardly taken the time
off. And he hadn't left empty handed, 'borrowing' a variety of
equipment to take 'on vacation.' 
	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 the 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
whose face he believed adorned the early composite sketches. The
handful of photos he'd collected had been taken at varying
combinations of bad lighting, large distance, sharp angle, and
cheap equipment. None would even enhance sufficiently to be of
use. And even if he'd had a pristine shot, it would've been no
proof in 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, he'd known. And also without exception they'd promised him
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-whatever combination that implied-was unparalleled in
Jordan's experience. 
	He'd submitted an anonymous report-not to his supervisor 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 servicing predominantly black men
in major cities across the country, and asking that agents be on
the look out for such a suspect, noting 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
services. That could explain in part how someone would be willing
to leak information to the man-whether by blackmail or sex and
money for profit as motive. 
	Even so, he was surprised at the total lack of response,
considering he had played the 'race' card, a trick he had loathed
throughout his tenure in the Bureau. Then again, it was usually
employed by those trying to get a piece of scum off irregardless
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 callgirl ring. He
echoed the Bureau's party line: 'there was not, nor could there
be an interstate prostitution ring of 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. Jordan still catalogued a steadily growing list
of 'likely recruits.' They were simply working without a net.
That change, though, had reinforced Jordan's belief that someone
on the inside was protecting 'Tom.' The man had reacted to
Jordan's brief by changing his M.O. He'd protected himself so
diligently Jordan had nearly lost the trail except for a lucky
sighting of 1 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?' Even the best pimp had girls who went
south or went crazy (though he suspected many 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. 	and no matter how profitable
sex for money nationwide was, Jordan doubted Tom simply 'bought
off' those working girls who got a bug in their panties. None of
the women had offered an explanation to the phenomena, though
they'd denied girls 'going missing' or 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 Jordan precisely
nowhere. 
	Ignoring the 'supply' problem, there was the issue of were were
the unhappy Johns?  Working girls always get lazy or greedy. How
did Tom keep his girls in line so that they put out, pleased
their customers, 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 women on Jordan's list. But
none 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 Jordan knew wasn't Tom, he'd never
gotten 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
Jordan wasn't so different from the girls in that manner; he was
operating without a net.
	He decided the sudden turn of fortune in his favor was the
reason 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 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.  Not in the lease because it made him more careful.
Pocketing a strip of condoms, he checked to be sure his only
identification was that of the bland executive at 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-reference. 
	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.'
Jordan eyed his hotel room, making sure there was no tell tale
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 when Jordan 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 she'd
occupied the night before. She'd tossed back 2 drinks while
worrying that a Shriner she knew through her husband or church or
school would happen by and see her in the slinky glitter accented
dress with the plunging neckline. She'd downed another while
considering her 'dates' from the night before might find her and
want an encore. 
	Mike had told her she was 'on' at 7-she didn't like the way he
leered 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 she'd have to get used to him. 
	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 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," it was the man from the night before. Melissa
felt a strange conflict. He'd been so nice she'd almost convinced
herself 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 bit her lip, amazed that she'd said it so
spontaneously. But by his smile it was the right thing to say.
Score another 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, aware of the way the short skirt rode up her thighs as
she did so. She took a moment to straighten it-as if he wouldn't
soon see everything beneath-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 she could see him blush.
"I'm sorry... I just..." he sighed, then leaned toward her to
whisper conspirationally, "I haven't ever really done this, you
know? I just... I saw you last night, and then a gentleman
suggested 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's OK," she nodded, leaning against him with a
familiarity neither yet felt. "Where did you have in mind?" A
handful of nearby restaurants flashed through her mind, along
with the thought they were overdressed. 
	"Well, I'd 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 she was
ruining the whole thing.  
	"No," she stammered, "Wherever you want." She tried to remind
herself it was the middle of the week; the odds of friends being
at the revolving restaurant were slim. 
	"You seem... anxious," the man offered as he led her into the
garage, walking toward a sleek, sporty car. He held the door for
her as she waved away his concern. 
	"No. I was just surprised. Usually it's barbeque or room
service." She winced at the suggestion she was that familiar with
eating with a 'client' and hoped he wouldn't be turned off at the
thought she was a regular working girl. 
	"Oh." 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, "You sure that's
it?" Melissa paused, asking if this was another of Tom's tricks.
Or Michael's. She decided that if this guy 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 dinner 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 pet phrase. He seemed to think that meant I wouldn't have to
'mess around warming up,' whatever that means."  Melissa rolled
her eyes at Michael's suggestion. She realized it was even more
important this man become her sugar daddy. 
	"He didn't... he didn't say anything else about me? About why I
do this?" Jordan's brow furrowed and he glanced at her for a
minute, then back at the road.
	"Well... he said something about 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..." the man shook his head as he thought about that. His
free hand had been resting between the seats, and she'd assumed
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 worried that he'd see you there with me," he
nodded his understanding. Melissa echoed his nod. 
	"Sort of. Him or friends of ours." 
	"You must really..." he left off, 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, sort of like Cinderella and midnight." He smiled at
that. 
	"OK, then, Cinderella... 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 2nd
bottle of wine with the main course. She felt pleasantly loose as
they returned to the car, having heard about his job, being to
busy for kids, and the death of his wife. 
	He kept insisting 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 1st
woman he'd been with in more than a year, after losing his wife
to cancer. That, along with the way he'd 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
risked everything selling herself to strangers. He wisely didn't
pry, but knew enough from talking to people to lace his story
with elements that drew hers 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 when he
lamented 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'd 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 a reassuring squeeze. 
	"Then you want to do this... be with me?" her voice was quiet
but he 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 to the elevators pausing as they turned by the
panel of numbers. 
	"I don't know which room," she whispered; almost a giggle. He
cleared his throat, reaching forward to touch the appropriate
floor. 
	"Sorry," he mumbled as they waited for the car to arrive. As the
doors closed and they started up, he wasn't sure whether to be
glad or anxious 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..." 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 and then lay back on the comforter,
keeping their bodies close, lips together, but holding himself
off to the side. 
	"Mmmm," she purred when the kiss broke after a minute, "I like
that." He just nodded and smiled. She looked at him, wondering
what it was that was so attractive, "I worried I'd scare you
off... or that you'd be too eager to really enjoy it." Jordan
shook his head. 
	"I want you to enjoy yourself, too," he managed. 
	"That's not... that's nice," she sighed as his hand moved
beneath her skirt, staying outside her panties, but caressing her
mons, while the other traced a circle around 1 raised, taut
nipple where it tented the dress. He didn't stop to wonder if her
response was genuine. Her hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning
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 member, "I'm sure I'll enjoy this." They continued
to kiss and caress one another, undressing over a few minutes'
time, until they lay together, totally naked. His body was
pressed against hers 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," she murmured before
taking the head in her mouth. Jordan groaned in appreciation as
she began to fellate him. She licked up and down his length
before taking him into her mouth again, bobbing her head and
sucking at him with increasing fervor. Despite knowing what she
was, Jordan was surprised that she could take almost his entire
shaft without difficulty; he wasn't a small man by any measure. 
	He proved that by easily lifting her naked hips and turning her
until she was straddling his face, so 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 at his
face. There was an appreciative moan around his swollen cock,
which was repeated as 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 1st time he'd seen 1 up close, then 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 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... uhm, want to do something?" 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 in 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'd cum, as well. She
didn't stop, though, when he'd finished pumping his load into her
mouth and throat. He felt her fingers teasing his balls as he
head bobbed steadily up and down. 
	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
Jordan's nod. His hands moved over her body, lingering on the
pierced nipple, and he wondered briefly if it kept the nubbin
perpetually aroused. 
	"This is interesting," he murmured, playing the part of the
na�ve widow. "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 felt her smile again. 
	"Sometimes. But tonight I haven't needed 'help.' That was
wonderful a moment ago." Jordan rumbled happily.
	"Tell me about it." He agreed. He felt her shift, then, flexing
her back, which drew her pelvis up. His cockhead brushed between
her labia, then pushed gently into her sex. She sighed settling
onto him slowly as he remembered they'd skipped a step. "God that
feels good," he managed, pumping his hips at her slightly as
additional proof. She stopped, holding him 1/2 inside of her for
a moment before rocking up toward him again. The 2nd down stroke,
he felt another inch or 2 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
she'd chosen to take him-if only for a moment-into her sex
without a condom. She had 1 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 1 load already. 
	She felt her inner thighs brush against his and knew 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, 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 Tom 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 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,
reluctantly slipping out of her sex. She deftly unrolled the
latex sheath on his member, and then he resumed his steady
pumping.
	She'd 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 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 you
enjoyed yourself." 
	"I hope I can enjoy you again," Jordan blurted, then asked
himself if he was asking as he'd planned, or because this woman
was honestly captivating. She nodded, upper incisors closing
indenting her lower lip as she unconsciously offering 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 mean that. I wish I
could stay longer, but... I can't." 
	"You're sure?" Jordan realized 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
gave a short laugh, "Hell, I didn't realize you were a...
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 shook
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 1st 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 she was fishing for a tip.
	Before he could bring his hand out, though, she'd bent to kiss
him quickly on the cheek and turned, letting herself out of his
room without another word. Jordan leapt out of bed, confused at
her obvious sincerity, incredulous 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 it wasn't in the hotel, Jordan threw on a pair of dark
blue sweats 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
6th floor. He nearly burst out of the stairwell before checking
that impulse- no use attracting attention. 
	Instead, he eased into the hallway headed west away from the
lobby 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 he could
not re-enter 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 he hadn't lost
Melissa. He followed the call girl to the adjacent, decidedly
seedier apartment building, ducking 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 4th floor. 
	Moving to the mailboxes in the entryway, Jordan glanced at the
names.  There were 14 nameplates on each floor. He quickly
focused on the 4th 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 Jordan
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 hers, 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 someone had noticed him or was
watching.  He backtracked to his room, trying to decide how to
proceed. 

Part XIX
	"Finally," Jeff 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 12 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 1st it'd made her feel guilty, but after a couple weeks,
during which he'd proven he'd rather play the part of the
put-upon spouse than address any real issue, she was almost
happier avoiding him. She meant to do that again, shrugging and
saying, 'It was fine, but it's good to be home,' as she passed
him in the hall. He reached out, though, catching her waist-not
gently.
	"Where were you?" 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 crossed her arms over her chest, 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 stared 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 his
grip hadn't gotten any lighter, "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 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
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?" He read her tone as
disgust, which was a good thing. 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. 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 turned away, as if he hadn't blocked her
view of the screen. The image remained behind her eyes."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 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 Dogg'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.
	"Puh-leeze... as if you could," something inside of Melissa
flickered and died at his words. This wasn't the man she'd
married. He was still talking, "... do share a matching taste in
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 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 to 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'd kept 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
he'd come to his senses. A moment later, though, his weight was
on top of her as he drove his hips at hers 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 the unpierced side. 
	"Is that small? Huh? Had you forgotten? I 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 was pumping
against her relentlessly, "I shouldn't have been so calm about
it... should've reminded you sooner what gets you off!" He was
panting, and she realized he was already close to cumming. She
closed her eyes, fighting back 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' 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? Told you I could remind you what you need." He
stopped, giving a groaning sigh as he came inside of her then. He
held himself over her, thrust fully home a few times more-like
any john she'd ever known-then rolled off to lay panting beside
her on the still made bed. Within 2min she could tell by his
breathing he was asleep. She leaned over, sniffing, hoping 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'd decided that was what he liked; if that would
forever be the way they had 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 James would call, offering a
pleasant interlude from the hell her homelife had become. 
	Heedless of how she looked, she went into the sitting room,
pouring herself a healthy dose of the bourbon 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 full-time, so
she needed only 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 e-mail 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 backpaged
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... 
	Shaking again, she realized she wasn't really mad at his
looking; she could remember a time she'd eyed passing men with
girlfriends, making quiet appraisals of the 'possibles.' and he
wasn't cheating; and she knew she hadn't really been there to
satisfy him for several weeks-she could admit that. She'd lost
it, though, at the thought he find 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; hadn't been gentle or caring; 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 Melissa awoke, 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, 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 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 on
the slippery edge of climax, nearly shouting Jame's name. Not
Jeff. Not Tom. Something about the stranger who'd been with her
the night before still resonated within her. After assuring
herself 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 1/2 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 it
would help her to get through the rest of her 'debt,' she decided
she was glad she was hoping Jordan would call. 

	Kathy sat down at her terminal and logged on, pulling down her
bosses' e-mails  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 1 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. 
	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 she and Melissa putting out for a group of naked black men.
There was no doubt it was them, and Kathy wondered if Jeff had
seen it and realized what was happening. She decided not-Melissa
wouldn't have just e-mailed if that had been true. She also
considered whether Fred would recognize her, and discounted that
possibility-he barely knew what she looked like, any more. 
	She guessed it might mean they had some leverage... there was no
telling what Tom was pulling in on this little side business, but
Kathy guessed they  could shave some of their debt 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 2nd and 3rd before ending the burn program. 
	Pocketing the disc, she deleted the history reference and
returned to her desk, tucking the disc in it's plastic protective
sleeve, 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 she needed to
masturbate quickly to get on with the day's activities.
 	Safely back at her desk, she found herself hoping each time the
 phone rang it would be Mike, asking her to join him that night.
The thought 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
4th grade teacher eyed her, she suspected the sour biddy knew
what she had hidden in her purse. And her car and 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 James would ask to be
with her again. She called home when school was out and she'd
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 no fewer than 4 messages. 
	The 1st was from Kathy, suggesting they meet. The 2nd was from
Mike, telling her 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-James had
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 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 she was 'otherwise engaged.' 
	Afraid of what that might mean to James, Melissa glanced at the
clock. She had less than 5 min 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-Melissa 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'd seen the site and planned
to talk to Michael about how much extra time they were credited,
since 'internet sales' hadn't been discussed in the release she
knew they'd signed. Melissa was hesitant to confront Tom,
remembering the way he'd punished her the last time, but her
friend was so certain Michael would listen and be reasonable she
didn't argue. 
	She also didn't let on that she was actually looking forward to
her 'date.' 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 James. As she stepped out of the bathroom,
leaving the towel in the basket to walk 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, despite
the fact 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
doomed their prior hope for a shorter sentence, as Kathy had
termed it. Even before Kathy approached her a moment later, she
knew the web-site would mean no fewer tricks. She was right.
	"Michael explained they calculate the web sales into our
totals," she explained breathlessly as she took off her blouse.
Melissa realized her friend had previously lost her bra-before
going to talk to the 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 we should visit the site a
lot, since part of the payment they get is based on the number of
hits." 
	"You're sure chipper." Melissa 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 sex 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 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!" Jordan Franks was seated in 1 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 1/2 way. The change
in him was striking... he wasn't 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
1st. 
	"Oh no... unless you're in a hurry." Jordan took her arm,
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.
	"I want to... this may be business for you, but I am 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 by meaning 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 nodded his
head decisively, "and we'll leave that discussion until later...
I hope you know I don't want to force anything on you." 
	"You're not. Honestly... I was hoping you'd call." Melissa
blushed again. 
	"Then we'll definitely have to talk."  He eyed her meaningfully,
"I need to know what's wrong so 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 James 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 she'd notice 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 she was able to accommodate them, providing an alcove
booth for 2. 
	Melissa suggested 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 she was walking the ragged edge of having a problem with
the booze, another suggestion 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 she actually meant that; yet another
surprise. She abruptly excused herself to the ladies' room and he
pondered how the different lives 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, eyes fluttering slightly. He could feel her shaking.

	"Get me out of here!" she murmured. Concerned about her, about
himself in case Tom had somehow twigged, and about whatever it
was that could affect her so, Jordan threw enough money to cover
dinner and a tip on the table, and 1/2 supported, 1/2 carried her
out, asking the valet to hurry 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
greed is often the more powerful motivator. While they waited
Melissa seemed to calm 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 terrible-it was a struggle for Jordan to
keep his hand away from the AMT Backup 9mm hideout automatic he'd
tucked into the back of his pants. 
	Melissa otherwise ignored his repeated questions, eyes blinking
unseeingly as she leaned against he and the wall. The shaking
recurred every few seconds, lasting for a breath or two, then
passing. A moment later the sleek silver Lexus was before them. 
	The dash she made to the passenger door was the 1st independent
action since he'd grabbed her beside their table. Eyeing the
restaurant the whole time he moved around and paid the grateful
but curious valet, Jordan 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 storefronts, but they were caged straight ahead,
fixed on nothingness.

	Melissa was barely aware of the car's motion, or of James'
concern as he watched her. She kept asking herself if she'd
really seen... but she knew 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 she was being watched, then, and she glanced up,
smiling knowingly at Melissa.  The emotionless, professional
'leave him alone, this one's mine!' glare 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 heel 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
by his own choice. 

	It seemed they hit every light on the way back to the hotel. The
trip took long enough that she'd recovered somewhat by the time
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 she
wanted was to attract Michael or Tom's attention, assuming they
were watching the lobby. 
	James made no effort to get out of the car after he'd killed the
engine. He tentatively reached over, covering her hand with his.
Looking at him, she bit her lip, aware of her keen need to be
with someone right then. 
	"Can you talk about it?" 
	"After," she said. "Right now I want you to make love to me." He
nodded, still worried about her reaction and what had caused it,
but worried as well at the way a part of him had reacted to what
she'd just said. 
	"You're sure?"  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 watch on the dash, "Do we have time?" 
There was a curious pause before she nodded. 
	"Tonight I'm all yours, but..." 
	"But what?" she looked down, not wanting to answer.
	"I need to feel you inside of me now... I want to lay beside
you... be with you more than I could last night... but I have to
go get my things 1st... 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. 
	"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
remained in her eyes.  "We should go upstairs."  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.
	Jordan responded instinctively, amazed at how quickly the woman
had shifted from a strange mix of anger and despair to a passion
so strong he could almost feel her body humming. He was dimly
aware her hands were nearly tearing his shirt, she was working so
frantically to free the tail. Heedless of the tiny pistol he
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, 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 this was somehow the real
Melissa. 
	His breath caught as her fingers found the front zip, and before
he could voice an objection, she had his pants half open, fingers
desperately but gently tugging at his shaft. The cool air was
proof 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 Melissa's head bobbed
feverishly. She was taking him completely, and again he was
amazed at the skill 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 before it
reached their floor. For a moment Jordan considered stopping her,
aware 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, Jordan 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, and did not 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 the mercurial blonde wasn't
finished as she pressed her taut rump against him with each step
in the hall. For a moment Jordan 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
she'd somehow stripped off her panties-had to have done so in the
elevator-and her sex was literally dripping wet. And while he
wasn't as 'experienced' as the majority of his friends, he knew
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 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;
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; he barely got the door closed. Having turned, keeping
her back to the door, Jordan allowed the smaller woman to push
him down onto his back, and then watched as she caught him in a
tiny hand, guiding his resurrected cock to her tight seam and
settling onto him with obvious relish. He opted not to touch her
otherwise, simply watching in the half-light of the hall.
	She was beautiful, eyes closed, head dipping back every few
strokes, lips parting slightly. Within a minute she was rutting
against him like a wild woman, moans and cries escaping her
throat with 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 coaxed his second climax along, as well. 
	Gritting his teeth, Jordan tried to hold off, big hands slipping
beneath Melissa's 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..." his voice was strained.
	"Mmmmm-hmmm," she husked, lips against his ear, "I know... I
want you... to cum... inside of me... mark me, James. Make me
yours." Shocked at such an image, Jordan lost control, flooding
her sex with his second load. It wasn't the end, though. After
they showered, she put on some music and they danced naked,
losing themselves in the moment. And when his erection returned,
he lifted her in 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, welcomed the harder thrusts as his climax approached. He
felt her shudder in her own release several times, never pausing
in sharing herself with him and seeming never too spent to
continue. Even when they'd finished, she absently fingered her
sex as she lay close to him, their laboured 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."
	"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... have to
get my things."
	"Those aren't your things?" He remembered she'd mentioned having
to change, but assumed 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." Jordan
wound her close in his arms. 
	"That's not possible. The only disappointment I feel is the
thought of having to share you with anyone else." He blinked;
where had that come from? Melissa didn't react, and sure she'd
heard, he guessed she'd chosen to ignore it as 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 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 my... my
manager won't see me. I could get in trouble otherwise." 'and not
from your husband?' Jordan wondered to himself. 
	"Would it be better to go someplace else?" 
	"You'd do that?" He laughed. 
	"To spend more time with you? I'm already trying to decide how
to win you away from your... manager." There was a strange light
in her eyes as she looked up at him, but suddenly it changed, the
fear he had seen earlier 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 to help her, but
sensed the last thing she could stand at that moment was his
touch. The woman was a study in contradictions. 
	"Oh God," she seemed on the verge of tears, "I'd told myself I
wouldn't let it happen again... I wouldn't do anything to make it
worse..." As Jordan 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 I did anything wrong... I didn't try to
get sneak around behind his back... Please, I'll do anything!"
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 and 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 she was
curled in a ball at one end of the tub. 
	"Melissa?" he paused, unsure what to say, "What did I do? What
did you do?.. I don't understand." He opened the curtain, then,
repeating the question as he bent 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. 
	"Shh, 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, Jordan carried her back
into the bedroom. Keeping her cradled on his naked lap, holding
her against his chest with 1 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
far south 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, 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 Jordan as she
did so. She picked up her clutch purse where it lay by the door
and reached for the knob without looking back, but Jordan 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 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-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 did not
try to ease the impact of the word, "To know we're going to be
together." She nodded. "But then you'll meet me at the
Doubletree?" A long pause, then a tiny nod. 
	"I won't do anything to hurt you, Melissa." 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," he let her feel his muscles bunch, "I hate that anyone or
anything could do that to you... I know 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 long experience studying
people told Jordan Franks pushing any harder would only scare her
off. Instead, he hurriedly dressed, thankful the gun had remained
undetected but unwilling to leave it behind the way 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. He nodded. 
	"You were good as gold, sugar." he managed, praying she was
acting in case there were eyes on them. "I'm still not sure 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 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 he had. 

Part XX
	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 clean 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 he'd set up,
capturing the women as they showered, primped, and dressed. The
web images of the 'white whore hosewife gangbangs' weren't the
only side business 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 cummer, so even with the delay to get him off
again-insurance that he wouldn't get pissed and complain-she'd
been back to the apartment building about the time Melissa was
virtually raping 'James' Franks 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
he could touch her-the way she responded-she wouldn't have wanted
it to be different. The fact that she was already worried about
what would happen when their 'debt' was paid-how could she keep
Melissa working so 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... couldn't go
back to her slug of a husband without it. Whereas she'd once been
glad Fred seemed to have embraced an asexual lifestyle, she'd
realized she'd ignored her own needs as well. And while the sex
she endured as Tom's slave wasn't fulfilling... She hurried into
the shower so the other women in the apartment wouldn't see she'd
been masturbating. Or that she continued under the pounding
spray.
	Barely sated when she stepped out of the bathroom, towel around
her sill wet torso, Kathy stopped in her tracks, not trying to
hide the rush of need she felt on seeing Michael in the
apartment. He was talking to 2 of the other women, arms around
their naked torsos with an intimacy Kathy ached to enjoy. She
wasn't jealous; he was simply doing his job, making sure those
women knew their place; a bit of the carrot now and then, rather
than the stick. She hurried to the 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." She wondered how he could
tell so easily. He smiled at her, "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 advance 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 he wanted to be with her as herself, not
as his prostitute. The prospect of changing in front didn't
matter, or that she was doing so in front of the other women
while visibly aroused. She was so hot she nearly rethought
waiting until they were alone to ask him to take her. Somehow she
managed to keep her desire at bay, feeling it growing still as
she quickly changed clothes. He put an arm around her waist,
leading her out of the apartment without a backwards glance at
the other women returning from their assignments or preparing to
leave for home. 
	In the elevator, he turned her toward 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 no thought. It was all she could do not to try to suck
his cock as he drove south and west, through the Plaza. 
	They stopped at a Mexican place 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 that she should
take off her panties there was no 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
they'd reached a nearby park, there was a dark wet spot in the
passenger seat, as well, the interior 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 behaviour 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 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
Michael was sure no one was paying them any mind and had joined
her, the brunette was settled in the nearest seat. She watched
him expectantly. Michael found he relished the power he held over
her. He fingered the trans-dermal patch with another dose of the
drug combination... 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 you had planned," Kathy's voice had an
unmistakable husk to it.
	"You don't want to save it for your hubby?" Michael had checked
'his' new girls out. The files Tom kept on each woman (password
protected to delete if it was tampered with) were amazing and
Michael had already decided that careful thoroughness would
remain in place with his stable. It was more than possible the
brunette fawning over him had been so easily snared because her
loveless marriage left her looking for something more. Then
again, he liked to think it was just that she really got off
having him use her. And even if it hadn't been true, Michael
smiled to himself, 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," Michael wanted 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 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?" Another nod.
"Good. That'll help you, won't it." She shifted again. Michael
guessed 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 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." 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 2 or 3
different guys would hook her on the pleasure of sex with anyone.
But that would 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, fingers scrabbling to his
pants, working the button fly. She hauled him out, eagerly
burying her face in his crotch, sucking at him hungrily. He
smiled, setting a hand on the back of her head; a mark of
control. 
	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; 1
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 hadn't
needed a 'warm up' to be ready for a long hump. But she was a
pretty good cocksucker for a Midwest housewife. He enjoyed it for
another moment, then caught her head in both hands.
	"Didn't you wonder why I wanted you bare beneath that skirt?"
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 in fully,
smiling in delight at the sensation and at the woman's devotion.
Even before he began to thrust into her, Kathy was quaking,
cumming like he was sure 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
firmly as he found her mouth, kissing her
passionately-possessively. Her body undulated against his, pelvic
muscles spasming as she came again. He paused when she'd quieted,
smiling at the way 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 shook her head, tilting her pelvis to
feel him shifting against her sex. He stood, lifting her in his
wake. "Tell you what. Turn around and lay on your stomach in the
swing here..." 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 for grip, his thumbs
teasing her open, drooling slit. She groaned each time he pushed
her that way, 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 1 hand held at the base. He smiled as
her sex engulfed his tip, momentum impaling her fully on his
member. 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. And again. Each time magnified
Kathy's response. On the 4th downstroke, as she took him inside
again, a moan of delight escaped her throat. Michael felt her
muscles jerking-she was cumming again. He pushed her away,
redirecting on the return stroke, so that his cockhead met not
her clenching pussy, but the pucker of her asshole. 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 at the pain of his taking her ass so brutally. Or in
pleasure at the way she was still cumming. 
	Michael reached down, sliding a thumb into her open sex,
pinching the leading edge, including her clit, between the thumb
and his 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
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... he was curious 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, eyes 1/2-closed as she relived what they'd
done.
	"You liked that, then?" She nodded, clearly wishing 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
that. "Too bad we couldn't finish back there," he teased, "Though
it looks like you're getting off fine... I think I'm gonna need a
bit more of that wonderful mouth of yours." She never hesitated,
leaning over and sucking the cock that had just plumbed her ass
into her mouth eagerly. 
	The power he felt at that alone was enough to get him off,
though her talented mouth 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 you work." She nodded,
eyes glazed, and he was satisfied. She was his to do with
whatever he wanted. She tottered around the car, her crotch
obviously aching from the rough sex, but as obviously still hot,
and he smiled, giving her a tender kiss before sending her back
to her cuckold hubby. 
	The dose 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 she'd shared with
James-offering herself fully to him-seemed a cruel joke; she was
sure Tom or Michael would be gloating at her when she walked in,
ready to tack on additional months she'd serve as their slave,
working on her back. And home... that would never be an escape
again, since Jeff had decided he liked being with whores. 
	She shuddered, the momentary thought that she was free-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; 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 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 hot water, anymore-and
toweled off quickly, the need for a hit of the bottle in her
purse growing 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 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 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 James 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 an impossible dream. Without realizing it she'd
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 cr�me 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 she would come, and had left
instructions to provide a Mrs. Hinder-Sureham with a key. Melissa
was 1/2 right when the clerk asked her name, and gauging her
intoxication, he judged that 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 a directions to get her to 'her room.' Nodding
absently, she slurred a 'thank you,' then tottered of
determinedly. 
	The phone hadn't registered, but some sounds cause an immediate
response. Jordan Franks was wide 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 nightstand 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
1/2-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 room as Jordan lifted
Melissa and carried her into his room. She stood as he returned
to relock 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 managed to open the
bar, grabbing out a handful of the tiny liquor bottles without
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. Jordan stepped
forward, unsure whether he meant to help her or take it away. 
	Melissa clearly suspected the latter, refusing to relinquish her
grip. Shaking his head, Jordan picked up a 2nd 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?" Melissa giggled for a moment, head lolling back
alarmingly. He wondered how she'd 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.
	"You saw your husband with another woman tonight."
	"Another whore," she was speaking loudly, and Jordan hoped the
rooms next door were vacant. 
	"But..." 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." Jordan 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 she quite
obviously was... And why was she. 
	"... couldn't think straight. I just knew I wanted to do the
same thing to him 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?" Jordan 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 he should be having. Not
that what he'd just said made sense. "Do you want to tell me
about it?" Melissa looked at him, the distrust obvious. She
emptied the 2nd bottle, glancing at the servi-bar again. 
	"You can't want to be giving yourself to strange men and
drinking yourself into a stupor." The look became an angry glare
and 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, Jordan felt a
stirring of arousal. She looked beautiful, even sprawled
1/2-smashed in a cheap hotel chair.
	"OK..." she'd obviously 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 I wind up working forever?" Jordan shook his head
in puzzlement, glad she was pretty drunk; he doubted 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,
stared longingly at the pair of empty bottles, then gave him a
crooked smile.
	"Coffee's probably a good idea. Any time you decide 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 him. What he needed at the moment was information. And the
petite blonde schoolteacher 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've 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 she'd forgone
her panties, as well. "But now I can sit like this in front of a
man I barely know. Quite a change, isn't it?" Jordan 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
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 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 you didn't remember..." he held his breath, hoping not to
scare her. She nodded.
	"That's how this happened." He waited, but she didn't continue.
	"I'm not following." She smiled ruefully. 
	"I didn't either, at first. I have a girlfriend, Kathy. We used
to go out once a week. See a movie, attend an art exhibit or
workshop. And we'd have dinner and drinks before or after."
Jordan 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," she spread her legs slightly, as if to offer
proof. "and while I was sitting there in my bed, confused about
what had happened and worried my husband would be pissed off, he
poked his head into the bedroom and laughed that we must've had
'quite a night.' I guess if he's been banging whores all this
time it must not've seemed so odd." She fumed for a moment, 
	"But it was worse than that. I got up to shower, and could tell
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 1 of the empty bottles
on the table. 
	"We found receipts in our purses. I think 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 neither of us knew or remembered. So we played it
down, staying close to home for a few weeks; making sure neither
of us was sick because of it... you know." Jordan nodded.
	"The 1st night we decided to really go out again..." She pawed
through her purse, finding a crumpled Kleenex. Jordan didn't
force the issue. "He used drugs of some sort... not enough to
knock us out, but enough 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 sat there, arms crossed over her
abdomen as if in pain.
	"Your husbands?" Jordan wasn't sure if he believed what the
woman in front of him was saying.
	"We called home; told them we'd won some prize at the bar. Tom
had people who'd agree to that if they'd called.
	"What happened?"
	"We woke up in a plush suite, naked, 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 'enough' to make up for what we 'owed' him, we'd
ball whoever he said, whenever he said to, however they wanted
it. If we refused, copies of the tape would beat us back home."
She held up the empty bottle, shaking visibly, and considered the
servi-bar but went on, 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 awareness of what we were doing at the time... Oh God-" she
held herself more tightly and rocked for several moments. 
	"I hadn't cheated on Jeff... 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, body
shaking as she cried for several minutes.
	"You haven't told anyone?"
	"Who would I tell? I've been used by cops, lawyers... a judge.
Hell, more politicians are customers than I can remember. And Tom
always knows what's happening; just talking to the other
girls..." she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "If you
actually start talk to anyone else... share names, tell them your
story, look for support... he catches you. And the punishment is
more time on your back." Jordan 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... has he used you for long?" She gave a bitterlaugh.
	"Long enough I don't' even worry about fucking total
strangers... or sitting naked in their laps," she hugged him more
tightly, "That wasn't fair... And I honestly did enjoy being with
you tonight... It's not like you can do anything, James... 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, then paused. 
	"and I hope you believe me; I really did enjoy tonight... I
really do want to be with you... I mean if you still want that."
Jordan was speechless for a moment and Melissa misunderstood. 
	"That's all right." She started to get up, "I'll understand if
you don't want me 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... 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 he'd felt the tension ease since
beginning to understand Tom's operation and what he had done to
an innocent woman.
	"Don't worry," he pulled her closerstill, tilting her head back
so she was looking at him, "There are things I haven't told
you..." Melissa went limp in his arms, and new sobs wracked her
body.
	"Oh God... don't tell me you're with him... I was so sure... so
sure."
	"Shhh," he rocked her in his arms, a hand resting unconsciously
on her breast, "That's not it," he soothed, "It couldn't be
farther from the truth, baby." She quieted, then looked up at him
a moment later, curiosity in her eyes.
	"I... I work for the government," he paused, but she didn't seem
to understand. He remembered she'd mentioned lawyers. And cops. A
judge. An anger built within 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. 
	"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 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!" Jordan was surprised at the anger in his voice, "It wasn't
like that... I... I didn't expect 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?" 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 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 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. And you won't have to do this again." She bit her lip,
hiding a playful smile.
	"What if I want to?" Jordan 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 she was looking at him in earnest; 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... worked. The names of people he's had you
'entertain.' The names of the other women..." She shook herhead.
	"No names."
	"You won't give me their names?"
	"I don't know the other girls' names... first names or nicknames
only." He nodded.
	"No problem. We'll just watch your little 'prep pad'."
	"You knew about that?"
	"Not for sure. I was betting it was #413 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 they've trapped... And the women they'll
trap if they're not stopped. And I don't think they'll ever
decide 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 she'd seen seemed terribly important.
"The doors were reinforced 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 shivered violently. "But that doesn't
matter; I'll lose everything if I say anything." Jordan shook his
head.
	"No. You'll lose everything when the school board fires you for
being a lush. And your husband will use 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." Jordan 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.
	"You're sure this isn't the alcohol talking?" His voice trailed
off in a groan as she guided him into her molten seam. She set a
steady rocking motion, holding him deep 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, 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 1st climax peaked, Melissa groaned, falling against
Jordan's chest and shuddering uncontrollably. Catching her in one
arm, Jordan rolled, keeping them joined without 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,
legs scissoring behind his waist, spurring him on; fingernails
digging into his buttocks. Still wondering if she'd always thrown
herself so fully into lovemaking, 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. Jordan
rolled onto his side to allow a more leisurely coupling. They
drifted to sleep, still entwined, each more at peace than they'd
been in months.

Part XXI
	Melissa was late to work. And she arrived in the same clothes
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 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 1st time) still rocked her to the core. At least her sons
were old enough to understand 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
she and James-Jordan-had made love that she cared less about what
Jeff thought than this new, strange man; a man 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 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
Jordan's rented room before putting her clothes on better than
she had the night before and driving to work. 
	Jordan 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;
Jordan knew she wasn't enjoying herself-it wasn't like when they
were together. Though both hoped he could figure things out
before that happened, she was confident it wouldn't mess up
whatever relationship 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 that imminent
change out to Jordan. And that was enough to add another time
press to Agent Frank's plans.
	The events of the night before had left her little doubt 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 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; there was no alcohol anywhere near
Melissa's room, though true to Jordan's warning, 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 problem. 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 so gentle and caring but
strong and self-assured a lover, including the dozens...
hundred's it seemed... who'd taken 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' she assumed 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 onto other's behaviour. After all,
Melissa might pretend 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 4th of July picnic
the year before. She wondered why she'd never mentioned that,
whether in fear Mel would stop seeing her or secret delight that
she knew 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 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
she needed to make sure Melissa was holding up. If her friend
broke down, confessing their dirty secret life to Jeff, her own
life could go up in flames and any chance at having Michael again
be lost. 

	Jordan Franks spent the day carefully testing the waters for
support. An agent 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 they send an asset (read 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
they could get the principals (Mike and Tom) to attempt to
'recruit' the agent. Jordan calmly pointed out they seemed to
target pairs of women, whether it seemed safer or allowed easier
'excuses' for when the women worked Jordan 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 the
man couldn't see his expression over the phone at hearing Melissa
so described. And equally glad he was separated from his friend
by three hundred odd miles. Otherwise he wasn't sure what he
would've done. Instead of shouting, Agent Franks calmly
reiterated the facts: the prostitutes in question were being
blackmailed to perform sex acts without receiving any benefit
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 absent
of consent were both present, his supervisor agreed. 
	But other skepticism remained. Not least of which was whether
the 'coerced prostitution ring' (a euphemism coined on the spot,
Jordan 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 American, and the Middle East
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, irregardless of things like the facts. It was a quick way to
a blown case and dead or missing or divored 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. He
doubted he had either. 
	The Bureau would undoubtedly start poking around. And if tom
really was prepared to moved on, he'd simply vanish. Jordan was
especially glad 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 he and Melissa. 
	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, leaving
only a note that she 'might be back.' She wished she had more
time to select the things she'd want to keep-no doubt Jeff would
set about destroying the parts of her life he didn't want for
himself-but she couldn't stand to spend any more time in the
house, and was glad to escape before anyone else got home. 
	Besides, the situation left her free to stay in Jordan's room.
He insisted, though he agreed he would keep 'his' room at the
hotel where they'd met. 

	By Friday, the lack of contact had Melissa worried she was in
trouble for leaving her husband, Kathy beside herself with desire
for her pimp, and Jordan convinced 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 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 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 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
Jordan had ever seen in a 'meet 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 Jordan saw in Melissa's 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 nametag 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 3
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 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;
3 empty margarita stemware glasses and a waiter's tray were all
that remained. Snatching up the tray, and glass, Jordan searched
for the 'husband' or the helpless agent and the rest of her
backup. They'd become lackadaisical, apparently not twigging to
Michael's presence as a guest first and then 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 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 Franks 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 the
drugs left the women so susceptible they might get lost or have
an accident if they had to drive very far. 
	Agent Fawn woke with a post-barbiturate hangover, the tell-tale
body jewelry Jordan's lady had awakened with months before, and
the vague aches of a woman 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: no real evidence. Until she was
helpless 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
the Agency suffered at so 'losing' an agent bumped Tom's
Housewife Ring 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 blame to Jordan, insisting he had 'known more
than he let on' and had 'endangered' their agent. 
	Unwilling to be the scapegoat when he finally had the entire
Bureau backing him up, Jordan 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 there was something to
the claim. And he'd backed it up with recorded evidence, sneering
at the suggestion that was illegal while pointing out so was
slander and falsifying evidence. 
	Faced with incontrovertible-if illegal-evidence, the other
backed down, leaving Jordan Franks in charge of the THR task
force. At completion of the task force's 1st day, Jordan 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 she'd done it intentionally vanished as he keyed his
way into his adjoining room. Melissa's sobs were audible from 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 he'd been imagining as the enemy. 
	She described in halting detail how Michael had insisted 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 she hadn't understood any specifics. What
had horrified Melissa was her friend's eagerness to do whatever
Michael asked; she'd seemed eager to help him ensnare another
innocent woman. 
	She'd tried to decide how it would happen, remembering 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 1 drink, making
sure it was given to his prey, and by the time Melissa was sure
he was doing more than sizing her up, the tall FBI agent had
finished enough of her drink that she'd readily gulped the rest
down in a toast with Kathy, and was moments later exiting the bar
hand in hand with Melissa'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 Jordan dash out of the
bar after them, and frightened she'd be detained, she'd returned
to the hotel. 
	Proud that she'd resisted to the degree she had, and relieved
that she hadn't become the willing whore her friend was, Jordan
carried the petite blonde 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. 
	and 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
were all 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 something was wrong.
Snatching up his notes and the prodigious quantities of the drugs
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 the car like a high school Freshman asked to
speak to the Varsity quarterback. 
	He briefly explained he had to run, then offered to take her
along. The once fiercely independent, 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
they found in Michael's warren of an apartment above the room
where Melissa, Kathy, and the others had worked, they struck
gold. Tom and two of the housewives he'd recently ensnared were
inside the barn. Tom was taken away naked and bloodied where the
women 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 the 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 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 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
with the hero of the moment, Agent Jordan Franks. She and agent
Fawn became fast friends; the whispers of how close 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, 'outed' by a press
leak identifying the specific 'Jerry tattoo' or identified by
friends who'd been similarly trapped, 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 the horror their life had
become and get 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 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 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 person cases in the cities where Tom had
operated were theoretically solved when his lists of 'sales' to
the rich 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 to protect government interested and the
women's lives (their 'husbands' would kill rather than lose face
at having them). 
	and in almost every such case the poor souls had become
accustomed to their life, refusing to leave. Those who'd been
sold to whore in Mexico and South America were undeniably more
destroyed than Melissa and her sisters. They brought back, 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, cared about her despite her past, and who at night made her
glad for the things she'd 'learned' to do to give pleasure. A man
for whom her pleasure was always the 1st concern. And whereas
she'd once considered sex with Jeff 'perfect,' reality 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 attitude toward men to the way she used her
sexuality and felt about herself. The Bureau had offered her
counseling, but after the 1st session she hadn't gone back. The
counselor, a reserved but perceptive woman with auburn hair,
admitted 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 it
had happened, but equally refused to let it swallow up her
present. Only at night, safe in Jordan's 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 2
jobs lined up and will need her help at both. She's glad; the men
in the park have been around enough 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. 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 dark halls, turning once... twice.
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 well dressed; she's seen enough now to know that his
robes weren't cheap. You'd never guess from looking at she 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 1 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 1/2 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 1 of the woman'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 pube 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...
both women 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... that will be 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 1 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 1st 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, legs spread. Welcoming Shawn's
future partners. The 1st time 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 8 of the 11 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 9th. 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 once 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' 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 they'll move on again. Maybe the next town
their 'nest egg' will be big enough 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 they're 1/2 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 they
don't wind up with a baby. He also provides that for the pimps,
as well as the means 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 they'll live. Some day. 
	But for now, there's the night's final job. Shawn changed more
than just their names after they escaped. He realized they needed
to 'diversify.' For several weeks, there was no way 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 1st, the 'housewife hookier' is 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 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 they might have been snared in Tom's little operation.
And Shawn keeps mentioning his former partner will have to watch
it; there are plenty of enemies, even among his 'friends' who'd
rather 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 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 1 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
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 1st time he arranged this,
when she felt bad, he reminded her 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 easy
to drink quickly. 
	Like Shawn says, order a 2nd, so the 1st 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 the head and moves on to the
2nd. Now all Celeste has to do is wait. The pretty co-ed isn't
married; she married young, divorced, and has gone back to law
school. Just the type Shawn's friends are looking for, wherever
it is they fly them. 
	The 1st time, after she saw the fancy jet lift into the night,
she wished for a moment 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's 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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