When we shut the door Katja was anxious to share. She excitedly stated, “Melanie, I just wanted to say that Alexa is hiding something from me – I asked her questions about how she got here and she just seemed too vague, and too worried about something. If I can gain her trust maybe we can get details about this place.” Her reasoning was good. I still felt a bit uneasy about the idea. What did she mean by gaining her trust? Yet I responded, “You may have a point, and Tiffanie asked if I wanted to come over to get some extra training.” When I said that Katja had a blank facial expression, hesitated, and then responded half-heartedly, “I think that might be a good idea. You get information from her and I work on Alexa.” At that moment Aslan barged in and yelled, “Petra, what the hell are you doing? Your light has been flashing for three minutes now get out there now or you have no job!” Katja immediately ran out of the room as Aslan muttered, “Stupid Russian woman!” just before he turned his focus on me, “I liked your last performance. You and Petra will dance together in fifteen minutes so keep it hot, but not like private performance – only special customers get that.” He then left. Alone there in that disgusting bathroom I felt violated further that this guy could enter the woman’s bathroom. I was okay with the dressing rooms, after all Tiffanie was right in that anatomical privacy was absurd in a place like this, but I hated sharing a bathroom with even women; so a man was totally out of the question! I also did not like the way he yelled at Katja. I had to try to put up with it though, after all this was a mission, right?
Katja did not seem shaken by Aslan’s verbal assault. Once her performance was done she was dripping in sweat so when I explained to her what was coming up she quickly darted back to the bathroom. At that moment Tiffanie came over and commented, “This is the part I hate. When we do doubles I do not like the other women touching me, but it does generate money and rent isn’t cheap.” Just then I told her I would be able to come over if she gave me her address. She looked around for some paper, but finding none, she pulled out a dollar and wrote her address and phone number on it. She said I could drop by any time after 11am.
Katja returned and it was time for us to go out since both the green and the blue lights went on at the same time. We did our best to give the guys a show and then, towards the end of the song I decided to go all out and grabbed Katja’s chest from behind. I looked over her shoulder and noticed that every guy in the audience was staring at us in an eager manner, especially the man and woman sitting at a table up front. After a few seconds Katja leaned her head back and quickly stated, “You and I are not going to get much rest tonight, you know that, don’t you?” At that I kissed her for about fifteen seconds while providing the patrons a tiny glimpse of what should be private intimacy. And at that I released her and the routine ended, except for us gathering the money on stage as the audience applauded.
As we were driving home that evening Katja grumbled, “Men are just so stupid!” I responded, “Yes, most are.” She laughed and continued, “Absolutely! Most of the ones in that place cannot get laid but get all turned on seeing two women go at it. Why would a man get all happy seeing two women prove they don’t need him?” I was about to go into some socio-biology explanation but she cut me off, “So, you are going to be at Tiffanie’s tomorrow? I was going to meet up with Alexa for lunch. We really have to find out when Tamilla worked at that place and who might know something about when she was…well murdered.” I replied, “You get what you can from Alexa. I will see what I can find out from Tiffanie. Oh, and just curious…oh never mind.” She asked what I was curious about but I quickly thought to ask, “So you are absolutely sure that those shorts were your sister’s?” She replied without any doubt in her mind, “Absolutely!” I left it at that…I had really intended on asking about her and Alexa, but I decided to just relax as she drove me back to the apartment. She seemed tired, so I wondered about how the evening would turn out, considering her statement on the stage.
Yet when we returned home that evening Katja proved true to her word; we had barely opened the door and she practically yanked my shoulder out of place when she grabbed my arm and pulled me into the bedroom. It was not until 4am that we had basically exhausted every ounce of our energy and collapsed on the bed. She held my hand tightly and just looked at me for a few moments before asking, “Melanie, are you sure that…when this is all over you will still want me?” I just smiled and said, “I would be a fool not to, wouldn’t I?” She then cuddled up to me and said, “I wish this moment could last forever.” before almost immediately falling asleep. Odd really…I mean just as this young woman, whose life I believed I had changed forever, was feeling safe at my side – and loved – I was left pondering exactly what I had set in motion.
Chapter 11
I awoke around 9:30 and found Katja fast asleep – so much so that I noticed her eyes moving in that way that means people are dreaming. I wondered what play was going on in her mind. Was I involved or was she in some scene back in Russia? For a split second I felt almost motherly to her; maybe because the only people I ever looked at intently as they slept were my children. During that moment I actually could feel the desire to grab her…to protect her, and tell her we would never go back in that place again. We could disappear together and…no! I told myself I had no desire to run off with her…or maybe?
I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and memories of my children, of Nicole’s children, rushed in to fill the gap. I calculated the time in England…it would be around dinner for them. I had to call; and then a thought came to mind how to do it. I gently prodded Katja. She awoke and stretched out her arms above her head and, again in her child’s voice said, “Good morning.” She was smiling as if in a state of rapture. She threw the sheet off and asked, “Shall we?” but I instead asked, “Katja, can I ask you a huge favor?” She sat up and said, “Sure!” Maybe to her surprise I asked, “Can you go for a run or something? I don’t want any questions from my family right now and I need to call.”
She responded with a disappointed look, and then jumped out of bed and, while walking over to the chair that her athletic clothing was draped across, she stated, “Sure, it is okay…I understand. I guess I have to get used to this living in secrecy.” I called out, “Katja wait, I don’t mean it like that!” She then fastened her jogging bra, the only item of clothing she had on, and came over to me, “Look Melanie, don’t feel bad. It is my choice, my life, and if I know that the price of our love and companionship is secrecy then I am okay with it.” She gave me a hug and went back to getting dressed. I was not sure she was ready for the lifestyle she thought she was getting into. Maybe the fact that her voice had switched from the submissive little girl to the adult Katja in an instant betrayed her disappointment. No matter, I had to set up the computer for a call.
First though, I had to wrap my hair up as if I was just out of the shower. I also had to find an empty spot on the wall that would be my backdrop so it looked as if I was in a motel and not a lover’s apartment. Just as I was planning Katja came out of the bathroom fully dressed and apologized for sounding “possessive.” She said we could talk more before our shift that evening but at that moment she had an appointment with a five kilometer run. Yet just then her voice returned to the playful tone and she took me in her arms and gave me a soft, yet passionate kiss. She asked, “You really need to call right now?” to which I promised I would keep it short.
When she shut the door I watched her set her MP3 player and stretch a bit. When she finally sprinted off I wrapped my head, put on the blouse and switched on Skype. It rang and rang, but just as I was thinking how disappointing it would be if there was no answer suddenly Matt and Nicole were both greeting me with their happy, and sunburnt, faces. I asked where they had been and they commented that while touring London they had taken in too much sun. I asked Matt how he managed to get around in a wheelchair and he laughed and said, “Oh come on Melanie, I am just about ready for wheelchair basketball!” They then called the children in to say hi. The
oldest kids kept asking when I would come to be with them and ‘granddad’ and I merely said, “Soon as I get some work done.”
When the kids went back to whatever they had been doing Matt came on alone, “Melanie, have the police found anything out yet?” I shook my head, “No but they said they have leads.” That was my first lie. He asked where I was and I said I was in a hotel. That was my second lie. He also asked me to be careful, and I said I would take no chances when doing my detective work. That of course was my third lie. At least I told him some truth in that I had found leads and had enlisted some help. I also told him I loved him with all my heart. He returned the commitment of love and then called for Nicole before saying goodbye.
I joked with Nicole when her face appeared, “I have to admit you and Matt look like poster children for an article on marriage.” She laughed, “Nah, we would be missing you.” I laughed as well and looked at her. Nicole then said, “Hey, uh Melanie…I hate to break up this romantic moment but the kids are just finishing dinner and we have to get them in bed in a little while. They are totally wired from all the junk food. Can you call us back in a while? Your father said something while on the trip that I thought was interesting.” I apologized but said that I had an appointment. I was actually getting nervous that Katja would be finished soon and I needed to be off the phone – like immediately! Nicole said, “I understand. Oh and Melanie…I love you and while I know you are strong, do not let anything happen to you. I would rather never come back to Oregon than have something bad happen to you.” She leaned forward and smiled, “Remember, when you get back you owe me a week alone with you.” I smiled back and asked her to be safe as well before ending the call.
Just as I was removing the towel Katja came in, gasping for air, and asked, “Melanie, when are you supposed to meet up with Tiffanie? It is 10:30 and you said you would meet her at 11:00. You need to hurry!” She was right. I sprinted into the bathroom and took a quick shower. When I came out Katja noted, “We really need to get to that tattoo place. Your fake one is fading.” I replied, “Maybe when we get back here then. I’ll take my car so you can drive over to Alexa and we’ll meet back here at 4?” She was good with that so I quickly got dressed and darted out the door.
Tiffanie’s apartment was not hard to find…it was in a rather run-down part of Portland so I was relieved to park in a visitor’s spot next to the manager’s office. I was not sure what to expect as I knocked on her door. I could hear her yell to me, “Just a second!” and at that she opened the door, poking her head through the crack and asked, “Hey Amber, you alone?” I said I was and she unlatched the security chain and let me in.
Of course the first thing I noticed was that she was only dressed in a G-string. However, she acted totally at ease as she casually walked over to her stereo and turned down the country music she had blaring to a more tolerable level. She asked, “Can I get you something to drink?” to which I asked for something non-alcoholic. She responded, “You don’t drink? That is unusual for someone in our line of work.” I stood there looking at the obvious country style of decorations in her apartment, coupled with posters of female cartoon characters. I would note later that the style did indeed reflect on how she was as a person. Yet just as she came in the faint light coming in the drapes hit her face in such a way that she looked like a younger version of Bethany! I had not noticed this before, probably due to the heavy makeup she wore at the club. I felt a certain attraction to her from that moment on.
She asked me to sit down to which, perhaps due to my initial reluctance, she laughed and assured me, “Oh, don’t worry…I am in no way interested in you that way. You got nothing that I need – not to say you aren’t pretty, but you understand, don’t ya?” I said I did. She then asked, “So you and Petra are a couple. Can’t say I blame a girl nowadays, but I am totally old fashioned. Just give me a nice guy, a good home and a litter of kids, a puppy, and I will be satisfied.” I replied, “Old fashioned?” and she looked away deep in thought as she explained, “Funny, huh? I was raised by really conservative Catholic parents. Problem is my dad messed around one too many times and it all came crashing down. When my parents divorced they tapped into the college funds set aside for my two brothers and me so I had to find work. You know the rules, if your family is poor you get grants, if rich you can afford school but if your parents are just working-class folk then it’s the Army or you work with your butt showing.” I asked, “So you are saving for college?” She leaned back on the couch, “Actually I am. I’ll work here another year and then I’ll start classes and hopefully meet some sweet guy. I really yearn for a 1950s sort of family life.”
I liked her down-home sort of thinking. We continued with small talk about Eastern Oregon and I was able to keep up my act that I was from there since I had spent a lot of time in the wilderness when held by Vincent. After a while of this small talk she quickly changed the subject, “So you want to be a good stripper, right?” I nodded. She then said, “Okay then, what kind of music do you really hate?” I said I was not much into country, especially the older stuff – I still had memories of the bomb shelter in Vincent’s place after all. She got up, took out a CD and then played some awful selection that sounded as if it were taken directly from a Hillbilly’s shack. Next, she sat down and said, “Okay Amber, you know that I have no interest in you whatsoever. Your job is to perform to me and try to change that. Remember, your job is a seductress, you have to be able to charm a guy out of his hard-earned money whether he is fat and unwashed, a pervert or even some gay guy having a drink with his boyfriend. Now do your thing girl!”
I began to do a dance and to follow her instructions as I removed my clothing, but after about three minutes she hit the pause on her remote and shook her head in disapproval, “Girl, you are too stiff. You might be a turn on for some soldier just back from Afghanistan, but you are going to have to loosen up.” What I thought would be easy turned into an intense training session. I practiced and practiced until, after maybe 45 minutes she began to give more positive feedback, “That is better! I think you are getting the hang of it.” We continued her training another hour, to the point my body was dripping in sweat and my legs were feeling like rubber. She laughed and commented, “Okay I think you will manage quite well this evening. Just try to keep your muscle memory and that seductive look and you will rake in a ton of money.”
Just as I began to gather my clothes she called out, “Wait, you should try to get rid of any hang-ups about nudity. Just stay natural for a while.” I liked the irony of her suggestion. She then proceeded to ask if I liked ice cream which I did very much. She then gave me a huge bowl of home-made ice cream that was incredibly delicious.
For a while we just sat there in a state of nature that reminded me of the hot springs, except that Tiffanie seemed more at home on a ranch than a New Age convention. In a while she smiled and said, “I hope you will be working at the club for at least a year.” She then gave me some information that proved far more valuable than she could ever have imagined, “Amber, don’t get me wrong, the Russian girls are nice and all, but most don’t speak good English and it is hard to get to know them. There was this one who was different though, named Tammy.”
Needless to say that as quick as an impulse can travel to one’s brain up a nerve cell Tiffanie’s comment registered in my brain. I tried to play it calm though, “Oh, Tammy is a nice name…kinda innocent and childlike.” Tiffanie replied, “Yeah, it is, but there was nothing childlike about her.” I zeroed in to get as much information as possible without making it look I was digging for it. I took on a flirty voice, “So, tell me what was so special…was she really weird or deviant?” Tiffanie laughed and leaned closer to me as if to convey a secret, even though it was just us sitting on the couch. She answered, “Oh, I should not tell…she was really nice and all. Oh well, what the hell, she is long gone by now. Tammy was a fantastic dancer and she also did shows like you and Petra you know.” Tiffanie went silent for a moment. I proceeded
to prod her like a school girl wanting to know a secret and then – success! Tiffanie explained, “Tammy needed money I guess because she did the really special shows. Please, don’t tell anyone this since I do not want to lose my job but, well, some shows involve a little more audience participation.”
I asked, “You mean prostitution?” Tiffanie hesitated only a moment and said, “Maybe or maybe not. Some clients may want sex but mostly they want things that go beyond your basic real-life porn movie. And they are willing to pay a lot of money. I think that maybe Tammy wanted to rise above a third-level girl.”
I was puzzled by what she meant and then asked, “What do you mean by third level?” Tiffanie lay back on the couch, apparently unconcerned with her extreme informality, and explained, “Okay, here is how it goes…the Russian girls who owe money to the Zagriev brothers are on what they call the third tier. They have an ankle bracelet with a GPS fitted into it – like the one you might have noticed on Alexa. Adlan once explained that if he invests a lot of in a girl then he does not want them taking off.” I asked, “What if they would?” She looked at me sternly and said, “They know better than that, believe me.”
She continued, “The second tier ones are Russian girls who have paid off their loans and are just regular workers. They can get the bracelets off and do whatever they wish, although most wind up kinda ‘sold’ for a while to rich clients so they do not get them removed.” I asked what she meant and she continued, “Gosh, these women may have wonderful educations back home, but they cannot make money there. So the Zagrievs make deals with rich guys who want a mistress. The Zagrievs charge a load of cash and the girl gets her share. I don’t know how long they have to serve these clients – nobody has ever told me that.” I asked, “I notice you have no bracelet.” She laughed, “No dear, I am just a regular worker. I don’t borrow money and I am American. Besides, even though they have a special guy who makes those trackers look like fancy jewelry, I would feel like I had a dog collar on 24/7.”
Descent Into Darkness Page 17