May 2010

May 2010

In a darkened room of a strip club east of KC, the deep bass rhythm slowly pounds and the lilting refrain of a sensuous melody plays.  The dancer slowly moves through the maze of tables, all but one of them are empty; her body gently gyrating with the beat of the drum and her short satin robe loosely cinched at her waist - sways with her hips. She is approaching the only table in the place with customers.  She passes the only other dancer in the club, who has just finished her set and is walking back to the dressing room.  They give each other a high five.

A patron holds up a fifty dollar bill.  She stops and goes to snatch it from his fingers.  He pulls it away and lays it down on the table that doubles as a stage; he points and taps the red cloth roughly with two fingers. 

The girl continues her seductive walk around the short table.  She looks intently at the four men who are attired in suits and ties.  One man gets up and holds her hand as she climbs the three steps to the short platform.  A pressure switch under the table activates three small flood lights in the ceiling above her. 

The four men sit back, smoking and drinking.  They watch the dancer twisting and contorting her body in impossible positions.  She’s grinding her hips and torso in different directions as she unties the belt.    The robe hangs open, giving her audience glimpses of her total nudity as the satin material sways with her movements. 

She bends over completely in half, her face between her knees and her long hair brushing the red felt.  The slick satin material quickly slides off of her body and lies in a lump below her head.  She straightens up and squats down, her knees spread wide as she tucks the fifty into the pocket of the robe.  She brushes the garment, in a lump behind her. For four classy business types, she expects tips, snide remarks or a pass or two; but the men just sit staring at her, expressionless. 

Except for her spiked pumps, the dancer is totally nude.  The men watch as she writhes on her back, moving her hands all over her body.  She tantalizes them by extending her leg and rubbing their heads with her ankle while they stare at her womanhood.  She slips out of her shoes and rubs her feet in their crotches in rhythm with the music. 

When the music ends she rolls over on her belly; dragging her robe over her like a blanket.  The next tune starts and she just lies there with her head down and turned to one side.

One of the customers leans forward; raising her head, they are face to face and he quietly asks, “Tired Honey?”

She crinkles her nose and smiles… “No pay, no play…”  He has beautiful baby blue eyes.

“You’re pretty good.  What’ll you do for a hundred?”

She extends her hand and two fingers; like a scissor.  With a smug tone she answers him, “Put the bill between my fingers and I’ll do the same as I did… just longer.” And winks at him.

“I’ll tell you what.  We really like your show and want to remember it.  What say we buy you for the night?”  He snaps his fingers and the man to his left lean forward with a thick bill fold of crisp hundred dollar bills.  They just sat there through all of her little act and did nothing, they showed no reaction.  Why did he say that they liked her show?

Her expression is frozen, she can hear something sinister in his voice as his friend starts to count out bills… one… two…three.  She watches and does nothing as he lays them down on the red felt, six… seven… eight.  He is placing them one atop the other in a fan pattern in front of her.  Ten… eleven… twelve, she could barely breath.  He lays three more hundreds down.  “Is fifteen hundred enough?”

Her mind is spinning, fifteen hundred.  “To do what, exactly?” There is rejection in her tone.

“Come to our hotel, just the way you are and entertain us for the night.”  He’s expressionless, sort of cold.

“Four… All four of you…” She pulls back and sits up; slipping the robe over her shoulders like a hospital gown.  “I don’t know about that?”

“It’ll be perfectly safe,” He turns his head in the direction of the bar and nods at the heavy set man sitting there.  “Max is the owner of this place, and we’ll leave our identification with him.  He’ll know exactly where you are at all times. Nothing will happen to you… that you don’t want to happen.”

She suddenly feels a shiver go up her spine.  “No, I don’t think so…”

Ten more bills are placed on top of the fifteen hundred.  “Nothing you haven’t done before.  Sweetie” His deadpan expression doesn’t change.

“How do you know what I’ve done?”  The indignation in her voice is weak.  Her eyes never leave the stack of money.

She looks up and sees Max sitting at the bar; she tilts her head quizzically and he gives her an affirmative nod.  She looks down at the man in front of her.  “Okay…”  She’s still not sure, “let me get changed and I’ll meet you…”

“No that won’t be necessary, just slip into your shoes and robe.  Our car will be waiting for us at the entrance.”  She looks up at Max again and sees one of the men handing him an envelope before he moves to the exit.  The transaction gives her pauses.

Mr. Blue eyes senses her hesitation and looks around, and then looks back at her.  “He just gave Max our identification.”  Now there’s a grin on his face, he looks human.  “What’s your name honey?”

Nervously she answers, “Monica.”  She needs reassurance and some kind of safety net, maybe a message on my home answering machine; her mind in racing.  “I need to call home… to tell them I’m not going to be back tonight…  What hotel are we going to and what room?”  She’s standing now and tying the robe closed as she picks up her shoes.

“My, you’re curious?  How about you call from the hotel lobby and trust us?”  He reaches up and holds her hand to steady her as she steps down from the little stage.  The spot lights go out as her weight leaves the platform.  Dropping the footwear on the floor Monica snakes her feet into them and stands facing Blue eyes.

Standing in her spikes, they are almost eye to eye.  “There’s one thing I need to find out.”  He stares into her eyes for a long moment and she stares back quietly.  When he raises his left hand to the side of her face, she doesn’t flinch.  He gently moves the back of his hand down the side of her face and long neck to her shoulder; he rests his hand there, holding her.

He is so gentle that she accepts the caress with a slight chill through her body.  “I need to know if this bothers you.”  Monica is about to answer him when she feels his right gloved hand between her legs and he presses something soft up and almost into her.  Her knees buckle a little as he moves his left off her shoulder and cups her breast.  “If you object now, there will be no harm done and we can part, with no hard feelings.” 

Still looking into those beautiful cold blue eyes, she feels him begin to manipulate and pinch her nipple, his gloved right hand is slowly rubbing her most sensitive spot. 

In a heavy breathy voice Monica asks, “What do I get, if I quit now?”

Without stopping his manipulations he answers in that same cold monotone.  “Fifty.”

Not wanting to say that she is aroused, she looks around and there’s no one else in the club.  He was right; she had done this before, but never for so much money and never with four men. “So what is your name?”  She smiles at him.  He sees that his advances are having an effect.

“John…” He smiles back, taking his hands off of her; he steps away and starts for the door. “Take your money and put it in a safe place before we go.”

Carefully counting and stacking the twenty-five bills, she quickly scurries over behind the bar and tucks the money into her purse.  She turns to join the men and John steps forward.  “Sorry, no… leave the purse… just you and what you’re wearing.  Transportation back here will be arranged.”

“Okay, one minute then…” Knowing it won’t be safe behind the bar; she races to the dressing room and secures it in her locker.  On the way out she gives Max a dirty look and kisses the bartender on the cheek.  “See ya tomorrow Phil.”  All four men follow her out the door.

Out front, the street is barren of pedestrians and traffic.  There’s a black stretch Hummer with the back door open, waiting at the curb.  A cool breeze bites through the thin robe and puts a chill through her as she makes it to the car and gets in.  The four men pile in behind her.  She sits on one of the two long bench seats with John and another man on either side of her, the other two sit on the opposite side facing her. 

“So what are your names gentlemen?”  This is the first time she sees all four of them smile.

John puts his arm around her, “Do you really need to know that?”  She can feel his breath on her ear, he kisses her cheek.  He is running his gloved finger down her jaw; the same finger he almost pressed into her.  He touches it to her chin; he rubs it against her lips, parting them.  She knows what he wants her to do and she opens her mouth.  The leather is soft and tastes of her own excretions; she closes her lips around it and sucks.  There’s a chuckle in his voice as he complements her, “Very good.”

The longer his finger is in her mouth and the more she drinks in its flavor, the more sour it becomes.  She attempts to push it out with her tongue and tries to turn her head back and forth but he’s insistent; holding her head with his left hand.  It’s then that she realizes that she’s being drugged.

Only moments later she’s in a dream state; sort of a drunken stupor, stripped of her robe and shoes, she lays flat on what she thinks is the seat of the car.  Blue eyes is looking at her, he has such a nice smile.  “Monica, is that your real name?”

Her lips feel numb, as if she just had dental work done.  “mo, it not.”  She hears her words being slurred and wonders what she got herself into.  “weer-m’ I?”  She wants to get up but lifting her head seems an impossible task.  She’s knows that she’s not in that car anymore.

“We’re in the hotel.  What is your real name?”  There’s a lyrical tone in his voice, he seems to think it’s funny.

“Suthan, me nam-s… Suthan… Suethen… Sh’t” Frustrated, she rolls her head from side to side.  “wadd yo do ta mee?”

“You won’t be doing anything that you’ve not been paid for.  We are all going to have a great time, but we don’t want you to enjoy it.”  John moves away and she looks about with blurred vision, all she can see is the blurry brightness.  Trying to move around, she realizes that she is restrained; tied to a bed, arms above her head and legs spread wide.  A naked man standing beside her; he has a huge erection and is so tall, then she realizes that the mattress is on the floor. 

John returns again and she sees that he’s also naked.  “You won’t feel a thing and you’ll come out of this without a scratch.  I promise you, you just need to go to sleep.”  He holds something in front of her face, close to her eyes, she squints at it.  “Here, this will make you sleep.”  She can make out a pill or jell cap, like a vitamin ‘E’ cap.  “If you’re a good girl, we’ll give you a big bonus.”

She opens her mouth and can hear some hearty laughter from all over the room.  “No, no, Susan…” 

Puzzled, she thinks, how does he know her name?  She’s thinking from moment to moment now and has little or no prior memories of her earlier doping.

“It goes in here…”  She feels him insert it deep into her vagina; moving his finger around inside her very gently.  His invasion didn’t bother her, it actually felt quite good.  “It shouldn’t take too long.”  As he continues to manipulate the little pill; she slowly senses a slight chill in her core, numbness similar to that of her mouth.  The feeling gradually expands down her thighs and across her belly. 

“Wha da fuk” Thinking she’s losing control of her functions she exhibits panic on her face… “Don’t worry girl, you’ll be fine, we don’t want to hurt you.  Just fuck the shit out of you.”  Again she hears a room full of laughter.  His finger is still chasing that little pearl around inside her.

Two moments later, there’s total darkness, Susan’s unaware of anything that’s going on, in or around her. 

* * *

Much Later.

Susan is still naked; she’s curled up on her side, in a fetal position, on stained and wrinkled sheets.  Her body aches as if she had just finished a triathlon.  There’s an aroma in the room, it’s one her that she’s familiar with; male ejaculate, the sheet reeks of it.  She can barely open her eyes; it’s as if they’re glued shut.  She moves her fingers and toes, then her arms and legs; everything hurts.  The drapes are closed but she senses bright light shining in. 

Her vagina and anus are sore, nipples too sensitive to touch.  Susan is shocked to discover that she’s been shaved; the skin around her vagina and pubis is red, smooth and very sensitive to the touch.  She’s sure that she must have been waxed.  Finally she decides to sit up; the action is painful but tolerable.  Looking down at her body she finds encrusted remnants of semen randomly spattered all over.  She touches her head and her hair is matted with it. 

Carefully she rolls over into a kneeling position and struggles with the pain to stand up on the mattress.  Still unsteady, Susan steps off the bed and looks around the room.  There’re three decorative gift boxes stacked on the desk with a large manila envelope on top.  Four empty cases of beer sit beside a door; empty beer cans litter the floor along with a dozen empty pizza boxes.  She notices three unopened cans on the desk beside the gifts with a closed pizza box.  The room looks expensive; but it’s been trashed.

Ignoring all else, she staggers through the door to find a living room.  The sofa and two easy chairs face a huge flat screen that’s playing some sort of porn movie; there’s a good size bar and a huge floor to ceiling picture window without curtains or drapes.  Oblivious of her nakedness, she walks over to look out and becomes dizzy at the height. 

Locating the bathroom, Susan showers for well over forty-five minutes; soaping and re-soaping herself.  She shampoos her hair four times.  Wrapping her self in the largest towel she can find, she returns to the bedroom.  She brings the pizza box and beer into the living room and sits on the sofa.  Finding the remote control wedged between the seat cushions, Susan tunes to one of the twenty-four hour news channels and begins to savor the cold pizza and warm beer.  After a few minutes she almost chokes when she sees the time and date.  She left with them Saturday night and this is Monday afternoon. 

Susan was suddenly angry; spitting the food on the floor, flinging her beer, almost hitting the TV.  Not knowing why she should be angry; except for being put to sleep, she had asked for all of this.  They paid her twenty-five hundred; as much as she would have made in two weeks of shaking and showing her goodies at the club.  It’s not that she hadn’t ever gone home with a patron and been paid for it.  That is her business, but they put her to sleep.

Over her shoulder, she looks back in the bedroom and the mattress on the floor.  They had shredded her robe and used the material to bind her to the mattress.  Losing her appetite, Susan gets up and walks into the bedroom; she grabs the gift boxes and storms out to the bar.  Roughly clutching the envelope, she sees a note written on the front. 

‘MS Monica or Susan which ever you prefer,

We all had a great time, sorry you weren’t all there to enjoy it with us.  Hope to do it again some time soon.  Enjoy the new cloths, they will fit.

Your good friends, John and the boys.
 
PS. The hotel tab is paid; your bonus and slovenlier snap shots are inside.’ 

She rips the envelope open and a bundle of hundreds fall to the floor with three Polaroid’s.  Susan picks everything up and sits back down.  She opens another beer and begins to count the money; sixteen hundred.  Plus the twenty-five in my purse, she thinks; forty-one hundred for two days work and I slept through the whole thing.  Then she looks at the photos.  In all of the pictures, she is tied to the mattress and at least nine naked men are standing over her.  Each picture is taken at an angle that cuts off the men’s upper bodies.  Looking carefully at each one, she discovers that all the men, in each photo are different people; nine different men in each picture.  Susan realizes that twenty-seven men had sex with her over the past two days.

First she wanted to cry, and then she became angry with herself.  She beat her fists against the sofa.  She can still smell that familiar aroma wafting in from the bedroom.  Opening the boxes, Susan discovers some very expensive clothing.  There’s a very nice black cocktail dress, a bit short and strapless but nice, a black sequined toreador jacket to fit over the dress and a pair of two inch heeled shoes.  Looking around, the spiked pumps are nowhere to be found.  She finds a black sequined purse also, but no underwear. 

Quickly dressing; they were right, everything fits beautifully.  Susan models her new outfit in the bathrooms full length mirror.  But she has to do something with her hair.  That percentage of Negro in her blood is showing.  Retrieving a strip of her torn robe, she washes it in hand soap and ties her stiff kinky frills into a ponytail.

She opens the purse and finds a cell phone tagged with a post-it note. 

‘If you’re willing, we’ll contact you again with this phone. You were great honey.  Please tip the maid a hundred.‘

Susan tosses the phone; it bounces down roughly on the bar.  She crumples the note into a ball, flicking it across the room.  Slipping the rubber bands off the money Susan stuffs it neatly into the empty purse.  She’s ready to leave; she looks around the room and notices the three snapshots lying on the floor in front of the sofa.  Can’t leave those she thinks to herself and retrieves them. 

As she stands beside the bar, the phone comes into view.  She’s unwilling to admit, that the past two days happened.  Susan also knows that everything John said was true; she did what she was paid for.  It was a job, that’s all it was, just a job, which made her a good sum of money.  She points at the phone hesitantly with one finger, toying with it, moving it in a circle. 

She thinks about going to a clinic and getting blood work done.  She hopes that those ass holes are just as careful.

She continues spinning the phone in a slow circle.  They didn’t cheat me, I have the money.  She opens the clamshell phone and sees her own face looking back at her with “HELL RAISERS” written across her forehead.  “Oh, shit…”  Susan looks up into the bars mirror to reassure herself that the message is no longer there.

Snapping the phone shut, she whispers “Oh, Shit” and slips it into the purse beside the bonus money.  She separates three bills and folds two to fit in a small outer compartment on the side of the purse.  She knows the world works on twenties and tens, not hundreds.  She picks up a hotel note pad and pen and writes, “Sorry about the mess, they had a hell of a time!”.  Susan lays the note down on the bar along with the money and places her half finished can of beer on top of it. 

Coming out of the elevator, Susan strides across the polished marble floor of the lobby and sights the hotel restaurant.  She’s seated in a booth in full view of a number of patrons.  She orders a light lunch salad and wine.  Sitting there, she looks around and wonders what any of those straits suckers would say, if they knew how she just earned four thousand dollars.

Word Count 3,630