by Pat Powers
I think I could have figured her for a dancer if I'd seen her on the street. She had one of those tremendously vital and powerful bodies that some kicker gals have, and it moved with a silky grace and assurance that was a wonder to behold. The naturalness and comfort with her body that she had been born with had been refined by her dancing into an uncanny physical presence.
Sanders introduced us and Culpepper flowed into her chair.
"What do you want to know, Mr. Bowman?" she asked calmly.
"I understand that you are a member of the Sisters of the Sands dance troupe, and also of the ALFALFAN group they've formed," I said. "In fact, you've been identified as one of their leaders."
"I am their leader in dance," said Culpepper.
"As I understand it, dance troupes like yours are led by their dances," I said.
"We are," responded Culpepper. "The dance always guides us, we just follow."
"Has the dance led you or any of your friends in the direction of kidnapping anyone?" I asked.
"No," responded Culpepper.
"There's reason to suspect that it might have," I said. "We know the ALFANS and the ALFALFANs are really pissed off at Dancer, we've got emails to her that prove it."
"I don't remember writing any emails," said Culpepper.
"Of course you haven't," I said. "If you had, you'd be talking to an Atlanta police detective, not me. But the folks who wrote the emails, some of them at least, are pointing to the ALFALFANs as the group most likely to pull off something like April Dancer's kidnapping, and that means you WILL be talking to Atlanta police detectives sooner or later."
"I can't help you or them," said Culpepper. "I haven't been involved in any kidnappings." She spoke calmly, with great conviction, and looked straight at me as she spoke. But she was a dancer. How far did her command over her body language go?
"What about your friends?" I asked. "If any of them have been involved in April's kidnapping, they might implicate you and the others who've been identified as leaders in your group in an attempt to save themselves. Protecting them could be very, very dangerous for you."
"If any of my friends have been planning any kidnappings, they haven't told me," said Culpepper in her very direct way. "I'm not going to send you after any of them just to get you off my case."
"I wouldn't want you to," I said. "I'm looking for leads, not wild geese to chase after. Are you sure there isn't some small group within the ALFALFANs who might be a little more radical than the rest of you? Who might have been led by the dance to a place where a radical act against the patriarchy was called for? Some person or persons who are maybe not as in tune with the group as the rest of you, marching to a more angry drummer?"
Culpepper sat still for a long time. She was thinking, thinking hard, and I said nothing to break her train of thought.
"There is someone who fits that description," she said at last. "Her dance never led us to kidnapping, but it did lead her away from the group some time ago, and it may have led her to more radical place than ours has in the intervening time.'
"Who is she?" I asked.
"I have no cause for thinking she has kidnapped anyone, I just can't say for sure where her mind is at now," said Culpepper. "Her name is Sylvia Zygmonska. She used to be a member of our troupe, but her dance succumbed to the influence of the patriarchy and led her away from us. Before she left, she was one of our leaders, a very strong dancer and very good at figuring out where the dance was leading her."
"Where did it lead her, physically?" I asked. "Do you know where she went after she left your group?"
"No," said Culpepper. "She completely dropped off the map. She disappeared so completely that some of us got worried about her and called and wrote and left messages until she called us and let us know she was retiring to do some research, and that she wasn't planning to contact anyone for about a year, but that she was OK. We haven't heard from her since. She could have gone in some pretty strange directions in that time."
I knew that Culpepper was giving me the Animal Woman, but the interesting thing was that the Animal Woman did exactly fit the profile I had given Culpepper for a disgruntled group member who might be dangerous. I was glad I had asked Andrew to dig up info on her. Of course, it would have been stupid not to.
I dug around for more information from Culpepper on Zygmonska, and got very little. She had apparently been secretive about her private life while she was with the Sisters of the Sands.
"Is there anyone else you can think of?" I asked.
"The rest of us are pretty much in tune with the dance," Culpepper responded.
"No other cases of patriarchy poisoning?" I asked.
"Most women who have come so far as to join us have pretty much worked the patriarchy out of their systems," said Culpepper, smiling at my naivete.
A few moments later I was heading for my van. But there was a welcoming party waiting for me in the parking lot. Ms. Mohawk and three friends. I knew they meant trouble from the way they headed straight for me.
They were a motley crew, a tall woman with her black hair cut in a crewcut, wearing a black coat and boots (in Atlanta in summer, that was taking fashion too far) a short woman in a loose jeans, a floppy T-shirt and a ponytail, and a gal in a wife-beater and no bra who had a seriously well developed upper body.
I saw them coming at me and saw that there was no way to avoid them and reach my van, so I headed straight for them, figuring I might be able to talk my way out of things, and even if I couldn't I'd be closer to my van and farther from the club.
"Hey, mister, can we talk to you for a minute?" Ms. Mohawk asked. Her buddies fanned out to either side of her, the better to box me in.
"Sure," I said.
"What did you want with Billie?" she asked.
"I'd rather you asked her," I said.
"But I'm asking YOU," Ms. Mohawk said.
"Yes, well I guess there's no harm in telling you I'm a private investigator and I hoped Billie could help me out with some information."
"Look, man, we don't want you messing with Billie any more, got it?" said no bra, flexing her arms menacingly. "We don't care what the hell your business is, if you give Billie any shit, you're dog meat, got it?"
"Sure," I said. "I don't plan to bother her any more." (And if I DID bother her at the club, I'd be sure and bring backup.)
"We don't think you got it," said Ms. Mohawk, and she reached out for me.
I stepped back.
"Really, I got it, I won't be bothering her," I said. The hope I had had that I could get out of this by soft-pedaling was fading fast. These gals wanted to "teach me a lesson."
Ms. Mohawk stepped forward to close with me and so I kept going backward. As I did so, her buddies moved in and closed up. A stomping was definitely in the cards. I turned as if trying to shield myself from anticipated blows. As I did so, I reached inside my coat and grabbed my taser, thumbing the safety catch off. I felt a blow on one shoulder and a hand grabbing my other shoulder, pulling me around to face my attackers.
I went with the pull and got a couple of glancing blows as I spun around, but I had my taser out, mostly concealed in my hand.
I stepped to my right and let the taser drive into the side of no bra, the woman furthest to my right. She screamed in pain and doubled over, then collapsed as the shock hit her.
Before anyone could figure that I had done more than punch her, I continued my swing and gave Ms. Mohawk a jolt. She screamed and collapsed next to no bra.
Ponytail and black coat knew I had a weapon by now and danced back carefully.
"What the fuck, he's got a knife!" cried ponytail. I charged them at that point. They moved back fast, but black coat wasn't fast enough, and I was able to give her a shot on the arm with my taser. She screamed and fell over, clutching her arm.
That left only ponytail alone against me. She skipped out of range, but her eyes were watchful. She would come at me if she could do so without getting tased.
So I spri
nted for my van, keeping an eye on her as I ran. She ran with me, but there was nothing she could do because I had a weapon and she didn't.
When I got to the van I stood with my back to it and pulled out my keychain while waving the taser menacingly at ponytail. She stood at a safe distance and watched me as I pressed the unlock button and heard the welcome sound of the doorlocks opening.
Still keeping an eye on her, I pulled the door open and slipped into the van. When I was far enough in, I quickly slammed the door shut and locked all the locks.
I quickly cranked the engine and put her in drive. Ponytail was attacking my van, kicking it and hitting it. Well, better it than me. I could see the three women I had tased slowly regaining their feet out in the parking lot.
They had also regained their voices, and even through my rolled-up windows I could hear them questioning my manhood and my courage in the coarsest language imaginable.
I gunned the van and headed out of the parking lot, risking injuring ponytail but not really very worried about it, because there were women boiling out of the entrance to the Polder Pounder, and I didn't want to have a mob blocking my exit.
I checked to see if anyone had followed me out in the street once I was clear of the club, but I couldn't see any tails. The bikers probably could have gotten to me pretty easily with their ability to move forward whether they had a lane or not, but no one did.
They must have figured I had been "taught my lesson" and I had: use force where these women were concerned. If I needed to go to the Polder Pounder again, it would be with a few of my friends who knew how to strong-arm people when they needed to. Or some cops.
I toyed with the idea of sending in the cops anyway just to let the bar patrons know they couldn't go around stomping people in the parking lot, however testosterone-poisoned we might be.
But I was more inclined to call it even. I had a few bruises from being struck in the first few seconds, but it was nothing that a few ibuprofen couldn't handle. The women I'd tasered might have a few burns and certainly would have some serious pain to deal with, but my feeling was that you had to expect to deal with stuff like that when you went around attacking people in parking lots.
My heart was hammering and my throat was dry. That was the way it worked with me, generally. I was OK during a dangerous run-in, but afterward, my nerves got shaky. But I calmed down pretty quickly, as driving tended to have that effect on me.
Chapter 16
Strange gurglings of passion
I drove to Lady Astra's place, a pretty older home in Midtown, small but in exquisite taste. The walls were hung with tapestries, the floors were covered with Oriental rugs, and the seating was provided with throw pillows rather than chairs. It was all very comfortable-looking.
Lady Astra did not look comfortable, she looked great, and I told her so. She was dressed in a filmy silk number that left her shoulders bare and revealed some nice cleavage.
She also wore a knee-length green silk skirt that was slit up almost to the hip on one side, beautifully displaying the curves of her dancer's legs. Her hair hung down to her shoulders, her neck was set off by a simple gold band necklace. With her huge, luminescent green eyes she looked striking, and my compliment was entirely heartfelt.
"It is so nice to see you, John," said Astra. "I was afraid your investigation might not permit you time."
"I am on a short leash as far as time goes," I said, "but it was important to me to see you, and besides, I have to eat sometime, and the chance to dine with a beautiful woman is what makes everything else worthwhile."
"You are very kind," said Astra.
"I am kind, but I still am very happy to be going out with you," I said.
"Very well," said Lady Astra. "I have a suggestion as to where we might go, if you are interested in hearing it."
"Of course I would," I said.
"Very well," said Astra. "I have been invited to a night of Gorean slave dance tonight," said Astra. "Refreshments will be served, they say. Would you find that of interest?"
"Sure," I said. "Sounds like fun." But my mind was racing. Was Lady Astra Gorean? Why had she been invited to a Gorean dance performance, and why was she inviting me? I mean, it was hardly first-date stuff, if I knew my Goreans.
Then again, it might well be first-date stuff for a Gorean. But it wasn't necessarily true that she was Gorean. She knew the Goreans through April.
I escorted Astra out to my van. It occurred to me that there was a lot I didn't know about her. Her first name, for starters.
"Lady Astra," I said as we started out, "since we're going out to dinner, I was wondering if I could ask what your first name is? I'll continue to address you as "Lady Astra" if you like, but if you have some more familiar form of address you prefer, I'll be happy to go with that."
"My first name is Sybil," said Lady Astra, "My real last name is Forster. I took the name Lady Astra as part of my dance identity. When I opened my academy, I used that name, and now it is as much my name as Sybil Forster ever was."
"I'm familiar with the concept of folks having more than one name," I said, grinning, "though it rarely has much to do with the performing arts."
"I'm surprised you didn't already know my real name, with the skills you must have," said Sybil.
"Well, it's a strange thing," I said. "Like a lot of people in my field, I find myself reluctant to investigate my friends, family and personal acquaintances. You don't like using the same tools on people you care about that you use on the sort of people who are being sought by credit card agencies and police departments. And there's the ever-present danger that you might find out something you don't really want to know."
"But I sense that you have questions for me," said Lady Astra. "Such as, what is my relationship with the Goreans?"
"Reading my body language?" I asked. Dancers tended to do that, I had noticed.
"Yes, most people would be appalled to know how easily a trained dancer can read a person's state of mind through their body language," said Sybil. "When I suggested we got to a Gorean dance party, it as almost as if question marks had formed above your head."
I was beginning to hate working with dancers so much. It was like running around mentally naked all the time.
"OK, I was surprised at first, but like I said, I realized that you would have hooked up with the Goreans through your relationship with April."
"Not just April," said Astra. "I have taught many Gorean women the glory of ethnic dance, and attended quite a few of their meets at which dancing is featured, at their request. I have pretty much the same status among them that you do."
"What would that be?" I asked.
"Honored guest," Astra answered.
"So you're not Gorean yourself," I said. That was what had been bothering me, really.
"No, I am not," said Lady Astra, with a mild note of disappointment in her voice. "There doesn't seem to be much point to being a Gorean slavegirl without a master to play with."
"That is a good point," I said. I didn't take it any further, as I sensed many landmines here for a first date discussion.
"What do you think of the Goreans?" Lady Astra asked. She was not one to evade minefields.
"I like them, overall," I said. "The guys seem like a fairly straightforward bunch, and the women are very friendly and straightfoward. Kinda surprised me."
"Why?" Astra asked.
"Well, when you encounter a group where the guys always have the advantage, where the women are openly declared their slaves, where they have regular meetings that are pretty much orgies, you have to wonder," I said. "They say it's all consensual, but given the history of relations between the sexes, I have been looking hard for some hint that the women have been coerced in some way into being slaves. But I haven't found diddly along those lines. In fact, the women seem to be the ones leading the charge, as it were."
Lady Astra smiled. 200 watts.
"You are very perceptive," she said. "The women lead here, the men follow, alt
hough it would be hard to imagine more willing followers, despite the fact that the men are the masters."
"The women are leading from behind?" I asked.
"Women often do," said Lady Astra. "Men seem to need it fairly often."
"Oh, we do," I said, grinning back at her. "And speaking of leading, a lot of these Gorean women have been very forward in expressing sexual interest in me. I get the impression that some of them think of men as a candy store and they want to sample all the flavors. I'm a little worried that they might get a little sample-y at this dance."
"I am sure they will forebear to get too sample-y when they see that you are with me," said Astra. "Now, if you were to venture in unescorted, and with the status of honored guest, it would be a different matter, as you know."
Something about the way Lady Astra said "As you know" convinced me that she had a pretty good idea what had transpired in some of my unescorted meetings with Gorean women.
"I don't understand how I got to be an 'honored guest'," I said. "All I've been doing is working for Jeff."
"That alone would not do it," said Astra. "But I have vouched for you, and after meeting with you, Jeff has vouched for you, which is more than enough."
Shortly thereafter, we honored guests pulled into the parking lot of what appeared to be a high school auditorium.
"This used to be a high school auditorium," said Lady Astra. "The county wanted to sell the school, but they had no one who was interested because the building was in such bad condition and the land wasn't particularly valuable. One of the Goreans was on the school board, and he got together with the other Goreans and they formed a consortium to buy it and refurbish it for Gorean events. They told the county they were a private civic organization, which they were, and they'd bought it mainly to keep the county from taking a loss on the sale. So it's worked out well for everyone. Now people fly here from all over the country to hold Gorean events."