Sweet Oblivion

by Rhiana Ramsey

  Robert approached the man and presented his badge, explaining that they needed access to the club as part of a murder investigation. Elizabeth looked at Tony as they waited for Robert to secure them access; he looked nervous, furtive almost, like he was afraid to be seen there.

  ‘You alright Tone?’ she asked quietly, gently touching his arm.

  ‘All good Elizabeth, all good,’ he smiled back at her.

  Elizabeth could hear the bouncer muttering about how it wasn’t really appropriate, he didn’t want trouble in the club, the guests would be threatened by their presence and that they would not be well received.

  Robert was doing his best sweet talking, explaining that they wouldn’t be long, they wouldn’t harass the guests, they just needed to bottom-out this line of enquiry and did he really want to obstruct officers in the execution of their duty, an offence he could get arrested for?

  Just when Elizabeth thought they were going to have to step it up a notch and get heavy-handed, the bouncer stood back and swung open the thick, wooden door that led directly into the venue.

  Elizabeth felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her as she crossed the threshold into the club, the knowledge that at least one of the victims had probably been here on the night he was murdered, as had the killer, coupled with the novelty of being in a place such as The Garden provided a heady, exciting mix, making Elizabeth feel quite exhilarated.

  She wondered briefly how it must feel to be able to enact one’s fantasies in a semi-public domain where everyone was like-minded, where everyone had something in common. It must be a liberating experience, she concluded.

  Upon passing through the inner door, a set of wide-carpeted stairs led down to the actual club area and from her raised position at the top of the stairs, Elizabeth surveyed the club, eyes sweeping across the venue, quickly scanning the environment for any immediately obvious threats or suspicious activity.

  She had once been told by a career criminal that police officers were always betrayed by their eyes when they were trying to be covert; it didn’t matter how they dressed, their eyes would always dart around looking for signs of trouble, whereas Joe Bloggs, who ordinarily didn’t give a shit about his surroundings, just wanting to get to where he was going, do what he had to do, would usually just look straight ahead or at the ground.

  Tonight though it wouldn’t be their eyes that gave them away as Old Bill, their whole attire and demeanour screamed copper and never had any of the detectives felt so exposed.

  The venue was larger than it appeared from the outside. A large, square dance floor assumed pride of place in the middle of the room and it was heaving with scantily-clad people dancing, gyrating and performing erotic behaviours which fell just short of full-blown sexual acts. Around the edges of the dance floor circular podiums supported bare-chested men and bare-breasted women wearing the tiniest thongs Elizabeth had ever seen, some of whom were dancing, some of whom were simulating sex and others who were presenting their bare flesh to other party-goers to whip and cane.

  The right-hand side of the club was made up almost entirely of a long, wood-topped bar behind which Elizabeth could make out at least six bar staff, all appropriately dressed for their surroundings, looking harassed as they hurried to serve the thirsty customers who kept on coming, unrelenting like Medusa’s serpents; where one once was, another appeared.

  The left-hand side of the room comprised a seating area, large plush sofas and armchairs, littered with writhing bodies in various states of undress, women straddling men, their bare breasts pressing against the men’s chests; men lying on top of half-naked women, moving their hips between the women‘s legs, tongues licking up and down their bodies and between their breasts, as others looked on.

  The back of the club led to the toilets and a large sign flashed green neon: ‘Play Area’. From what Elizabeth could see the ‘Play Area’ comprised a number of crucifix-style constructions, which people were tied to being happily flagellated by others.

  There was also a pen in which people crawled around on all fours like animals, dressed from head to toe in latex, some sporting dog collars, some horse-like manes, and from which they were selected for either a whipping, caning, or a pseudo-sexual act.

  Elizabeth was not a prude, but she felt herself blush being surrounded by so much sex and sexual energy. She didn’t know where to look without feeling like a pervert, she’d never seen anything like this before in all her years as a police officer or in all her years of sexual experimentation.

  The whole place and all the people within it were there to feed desire, fuel fantasy and satisfy sexual needs. It was a world removed from anything Elizabeth had ever experienced and she couldn’t help but feel a little aroused herself as she slowly picked her way through to the back of the club. She wondered how her male colleagues were rating the experience.

  As she moved across the room, people stopped and looked at her, clearly perturbed by a suited female in their midst and undoubtedly wondering what the fuck the police were doing in their club and hoping they weren’t there to spoil the party. The crowd weren’t hostile towards her, but Elizabeth could feel their discontent.

  She glanced round and saw that Robert had wasted no time getting stuck in. He was over by the seating area and was flashing the photographs around to anyone who would bother to look at him for a few seconds.

  Tony and JB were still at the front of the venue mingling and talking to people that were standing around the dance floor. Elizabeth decided that the best place for her to begin would be at the bar; the bar staff would likely have served David Saunders and the killer that night, so she figured this was as good a place to start as any.

  She pushed her way to the front of the queue of people waiting for drinks, ignoring the protestations directed at her back, only having to turn once to give her best evil stare at a particularly vociferous patron.

  ‘Police business,’ she mumbled as she pushed her way through. She stood at the bar for about a minute before a female member of bar staff came over to serve her.

  The barmaid was wearing a strapless mini-PVC dress that just covered her buttocks, just held in her ample bosom and only just held together by a zip that ran the full length of the front of the dress.

  She had a curvy, womanly figure, long blonde hair that was wound into thick dreadlocks that hung halfway down her back, and a multitude of piercings through her lips, nose, right eyebrow and ears. Her eyes were painted black, contoured like an Egyptian queen’s, and her lips were scarlet; she looked amazing and oozed sex appeal. Elizabeth felt veritably dowdy in her presence, her lack of make up, plain black suit and neatly tied hair a stark contrast.

  ‘What can I get you?’ she asked; even her voice was sexy, like honey on velvet.

  ‘I was hoping I could show you a couple of pictures. I’m investigating a double murder and the victims are thought to have been here before they were murdered.’ Elizabeth spoke loudly to make herself heard above the music and across the bar.

  ‘Figured you were a rozzer. Not exactly the place for suits is it?’ she asked, looking Elizabeth up and down.

  Elizabeth said nothing.

  ‘Show us your pictures then,’ the barmaid said, realising she wasn’t going to get any small talk.

  Elizabeth passed the photos across the bar to the barmaid who scooped them up quickly, her long black finger nails scratching the bar top. She glanced over them and slowly shook her head.

  ‘Nah…,’ she said disinterestedly, then: ‘Oh jeez, these are the guys that have been in the news, right? I recognise them from the TV.’

  She slid the photos back towards Elizabeth; Elizabeth left the pictures where they were, face up on the bar.

  ‘The first guy was murdered two Mondays back,’ she said her finger tapping David Saunder’s photograph, ‘the second guy on the Saturday just gone.’ Elizabeth tapped Mark Faversham’s picture. ‘Were you working those nights? Have you seen either of them here?’

  ‘Sure was. I’m
always here but no, I‘ve never seen these guys in here, or if I have I don‘t remember.’

  Elizabeth nodded, and asked:‘Could you please quickly show these pictures to the other members of staff working tonight?’

  ‘You’ve picked a pretty rotten time for this, can’t you see how busy we are?’ the barmaid asked incredulously, turning on the attitude.

  ‘Yeah I can see that, but we’re talking about two dead bodies here so I’d appreciate some help.’

  ‘Fine,’ the barmaid picked up the photographs and walked along the length of the bar, showing the pictures to her fellow workers as she went.

  Elizabeth looked around the club again as she waited for the barmaid to return. The venue was so busy she wasn’t surprised that the barmaid didn’t recognise either of the victims; she must serve hundreds of faces a night and neither of the victims were particularly distinctive looking.

  Elizabeth saw that Robert was now making his way back towards the front of the club; JB was still busy chatting to people around the dance floor and even appeared to be having a laugh with some of them, which was typical of his happy disposition - nothing could faze him.

  Tony had moved further away from the dance floor closer to the front of the club and he looked like a cat on a hot tin roof; he kept glancing at the bar and then glancing away. He was talking to a buff man wearing leather trousers, a thick silver chain necklace and sporting an impressive green Mohican.

  Elizabeth thought at first that maybe he was looking for her, looking to be rescued, so she raised her hand, but when Tony didn’t acknowledge her, she turned to look behind her to see if she could spot what he was looking at. It wasn’t immediately apparent to her what was catching his attention. She shrugged and turned back to the barmaid who was at that point returning with her photographs.

  ‘Sorry, no one recognises either of them, apart from seeing them on the news. Wish I could help.’

  ‘No worries, thanks for looking. What’s your name?’ Elizabeth asked. She would need to make a note of who she had spoken with inside the venue.

  ‘Charlie, and you’re welcome.’

  Elizabeth smiled and turned to move away from the bar, she heard Charlie mumble something which she couldn’t quite make out.

  ‘What was that?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘I said I do recognise someone here tonight though,’

  ‘Who?’ Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat, could this be a potential witness, a clue at last?

  ‘That guy.’

  Charlie pointed to where Tony was standing with the man with the Mohican.

  ‘The guy with the green hair? You‘ve seen him before?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘No, not him. Your mate in the suit. The copper. I’ve seen him in here before.’

  ‘What? You sure about that?’ Elizabeth was confused.

  Why hadn’t Tony mentioned this to her? Was this why he had acted so defensively and refused to come here initially? If he had been to The Garden before why hadn’t he shared his knowledge to help the enquiry?

  ‘How do you know him ?’ Elizabeth asked, still unsure if the woman was being honest.

  ‘Best you ask him that love. I don’t kiss and tell.’

  Elizabeth was lost for words and before she could think of anything else to say, Charlie had moved to a different section of the bar to serve customers.

  Elizabeth looked at Tony, who finally looked at her and caught her eye. He smiled at her and she smiled back tentatively. What the fuck have you been up to Tony? What else are you holding back on?

  Robert was signalling that it was time to leave the club and Elizabeth was glad. She suddenly felt claustrophobic, even though the venue was anything but small. She needed to get some air.

  As she watched Tony move towards the door, Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder what sort of man he was. She thought she knew him but clearly she didn’t know him at all.

  ************************************************

  Mina had spotted them from the moment they had entered the club and her immediate reflex had been to bolt, get as far away from them as she could. However, her survival instinct also told her that if she bolted they would spot her as easily as she had spotted them.

  She knew that they didn’t actually know who she was, that they didn’t have any images of her, for if they did, they would have broadcast them by now asking the concerned public to call in and tell them who she was. This made her feel powerful.

  She was here, right in front of their noses and they didn’t have a clue. She looked totally different from the last time she had been here and she’d used another fake name when signing up for her invite, provided another fake email address for the invitation to be sent to. They had no idea who she was or what she looked like.

  She watched them from the back of the club as the four officers starburst out and began showing their photos, trying to hunt her down. She held a vodka in her hand and slowly swirled the mixture in the glass, walking slowly around the back of the club, keeping in the shadows, skulking like a fox stalking a hen coop.

  The female officer walked to within four metres of her, and Mina couldn’t help but turn her face away, turning her back on the woman who was trying to catch her. She kept a vigilant eye on the copper near the seating area and noted the location of the other two, before moving towards the toilets. She was starting to feel insecure, her confidence was wavering. She needed to check her reflection, to make sure her disguise was still intact. She didn’t like the feeling of paranoia the officers’ presence was invoking.

  Quickly, she slunk into the ladies toilets and went straight to a mirror over one of the many sinks. About ten other women were by the basins, checking their appearance, applying make up, brushing their hair and checking their clothes, and she did the same as them; just another woman there to have fun, not a killer who was meeting her next victim.

  Tonight she was wearing a short blonde bob that curled under her chin, brown contact lenses, dark brown eyebrows, heavy black make up and black lips. Her outfit tonight was different too, less dominatrix but still in keeping with the bondage theme.

  She was wearing a black and purple corset that sucked in her already small waist and pushed up her breasts, black PVC leggings which emphasised the contours of her muscular thighs, and black patent ankle boots with seven-inch spike heels. She hardly recognised herself so was confident no one else would either. She gave her outfit a quick once over and then retuned to the main club area her confidence renewed.

  She looked around, again noting the positions of the coppers as she moved towards the play area which was where she was meeting her next victim, Daniel Taylor.

  They had been in contact over the internet for a few days and Mina had described to him what she would be wearing and he had done the same. She recognised him now as he walked towards her, cutting straight across the dance floor, past all the coppers in the venue. She liked his confidence, liked his arrogance. Soon he would be begging her for mercy and all his self-esteem and confidence would be irrelevant. She hoped he cried; the idea of big, strong men crying and beseeching turned her on.

  Daniel was wearing dark green combat trousers and a black PVC shirt, open to the fourth button, a hairless ripped chest and stomach just visible beneath. He had spiky black hair, tanned skin, was about six feet tall and had the physique of a body builder, large muscular arms and legs and broad shoulders. Mina liked what she saw.

  She could already visualise him fastened to a bed, powerless and prone, victim to her whims and fancies. She could feel herself getting aroused, warmth and moisture spreading between her legs.

  He walked over to her and said, ‘Mina.’

  No doubt, no hesitation, he was strong and masculine.

  ‘Mistress to you. Daniel,’ she replied nonchalantly, swirling her drink one last time before knocking back the last sips in one large gulp.

  ‘Drink mistress?’ he asked, leaning into Mina and breathing in her scent.

  Mina put her han
ds on his hard chest and scratched her nails painfully down his body making him wince and groan as she pondered this.

  She was enjoying watching the coppers hunting for her, enjoying having them in such close proximity, but she was also keen to get started on Daniel, keen to feel another kill, the urges were becoming so much stronger and closer together these days.

  ‘Make it quick, vodka neat, no ice. You‘ll have the same, but a double for you,’ she purred into his ear, biting on the lower lobe, her hand rubbing his groin which she was satisfied to find was already hard.

  ‘Yes mistress,’ he sighed with pleasure as she touched him and then hurried off to do her bidding.

  Mina smiled to herself, it was all too easy. These men were all so gullible, so easy to manipulate. It was easy to be in control when men were thinking with their small heads.

  She looked at Daniel at the bar; he was standing close to the female copper who was in conversation with the blonde dreadlocked barmaid. The other copper was still in the seated area, but she had momentarily lost sight of the other two across the dance floor.

  She tried not to let this worry her, reminding herself that she was in control, they didn’t know who she was, they weren’t about to jump on her and arrest her. They came back into view as the crowd changed shape, both engrossed in conversation, both busy being copper-like.

  She smiled again relishing this feeling of superiority, this feeling of being untouchable. She was God. She had the power to decide who lived and died and her actions were causing the reactions of these police officers. She felt omnipotent and awesome.

  She turned her smile on Daniel as he returned with the drinks, pressing her body up against his, gently moving her hips against his firm manhood.

  ‘So, slave, where are we going tonight? Where are you taking your mistress so we can have some fun and be undisturbed?’ she kissed his exposed chest and ran her tongue across his nipples.