by John Rivers
“Let me think just a minute.” Even before I was asked this question my mind has been racing ahead. As much as I was saddened by the loss of Burt, something in the back of my mind was telling me this might be the solution to my dilemma. More so when considering I was out of work with no income and my rent here would be due next week. Also, I had occasionally considered going to Vegas and looking for work. That was one of the things I was going to get Burt’s thoughts on had I ever gotten around to calling him.
“I think I would actually like to see the property, Mr. Peterson. Why don’t I just drive over and look around.”
“Sounds good. Let me give you my address.”
When Peterson pulled his Towncar into the driveway—my driveway, I was surprised to find the house was much nicer than I had expected. Peterson estimation of two-hundred-grand had been conservative. The house was in a little subdivision on a street off Blue Diamond Road. A few of the houses here were still under construction. The houses were spaced well apart and the desert was my back yard.
Peterson unlocked the front door and then handed me the keys. “I’ll need you to sign this form stating that I gave you the keys.” He indicated the sheet of paper in his hand. He motioned for me to go ahead of him.
“You’ll find it just the way your uncle left it,” the lawyer assured me.
I stopped in the foyer to ask my next question. “Did he die here?” I was hoping to hear a no.
“No, he died at University Medical Center.”
Good, I thought. At least I wouldn’t be seeing any ghosts in the middle of the night.
I continued into the living area and what I assumed was the den. The furnishings were nice. Not overly expensive, but certainly not cheap. The lawyer went around me and on into a large kitchen in the far back of the house. Glancing off to my side, I saw what would be the living room. Like all the rest, the furniture looked nice and comfortable.
Before stepping into the kitchen, I noted an opening just past the threshold. I glance into the opening and saw there were steps leading down to another level. If one took about ten steps down, they would reach a narrow landing. On the far side of the landing there was a door. On the wall near where I stood were several light switches. I flipped a couple before the light over the landing came on. Once the light was on and I could see better, I realized the door was barred with a large padlock.
“I suppose that would be a basement,” I stated, glancing at Peterson for confirmation.
He stepped closer to look down the staircase. “I’m like you, this is my first time here.”
I glanced down at the numerous keys in my hand. I thought about going down the stairs and unlocking the door provided I had a key. I glanced at Peterson who had walked back into the kitchen and was leaning with one hand on the island. In the other hand, he held a pen. Seeing me look his way, he extended the pen. I could sense he was ready for me to sign so he could head back to his office. I would have to go with him since I’d left my car there. Besides, if Uncle Burt had a stash of money or a boatload of diamonds hidden down there, I’d prefer to be alone when I discovered that fact. “I’ll check it out later,” I said. “I know you’re busy and I won’t hold you up any longer.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Lowell,” was all he offered.
I made careful note of my route on the way back to Peterson’s office. Once there, I thanked him and departed without entering the building since I saw no point in doing so. Twenty minutes later, I stopped at a supermarket and picked up a few groceries. Shortly, I was headed back out Blue Diamond Road.
Pulling onto the driveway and getting out of my car, the first thing I did was to take a walk around the house. I was curious as to whether there was an exterior entrance to the basement or whatever the padlocked door lead to. If there was, I didn’t find it.
Once inside I put my groceries up and took a more thorough walk around. The house had three bedrooms. They too, were furnished quite nicely. It wasn’t hard to find the master bedroom and where Uncle Burt had slept. The covers were still in disarray. I stared at the rumpled bed for a while just thinking about Uncle Burt. It had been about ten years since I’d seen him. That was about the time he’d moved to Las Vegas. That was also about the same time I got married. Each having our own agenda, we just sort of lost touch.
Ok, let’s see what’s down below, I told myself and headed toward that area of the house. Passing through the living room, I picked up the phone receiver and listen for a dial tone. The phone, like the electricity, was still on. That was to be expected I suppose; a week ago, Uncle Burt was still living here.
Descending the stairs, I fumbled with the large ring of keys trying to locate one that even look like it would fit the padlock. It was apparent that Burt kept something down here that he felt needed protecting with something more than a passage lock. Even if someone broke in the house they would still have a task getting through this door.
After trying three keys, I found the correct one. Removing the padlock, I turned the thumbwheel on the passage lock. Once I opened the door, all I could see was darkness except for the minute illumination spilling down the stairs. Fortunately, it was just enough for me to spot the light switch. Flipping the switch on, I saw a faint glow throughout what appeared to be a very large area. That additional light afforded me the opportunity to see what appeared to be a rheostat or a light dimmer a few inches from the switch. I turned the rheostat to the end of its rotation. The room instantly brightened, allowing me to see throughout the cavernous space.
I was totally perplexed by what I saw.
Chapter Four
I had never seen an actual BDSM dungeon, but I’d seen pictures. I knew what I was looking at although it took a few seconds for it to register. That was exactly what I was looking at. Although I had turned the lighting up all the way, the illumination seemed to be absorbed in the dark walls and ceiling. Nonetheless, it was lighted enough so as I could survey the entire room. This hadn’t been some handy-man project done in a garage. This was—how can I put it—this was professional.
Against the far back wall was an X-shaped device. At the top and bottom of this, there were straps with buckles. These were restraints. It didn’t take a genius to figure how such a device could be used. Stepping across the threshold and advancing about twenty feet, I realized that hanging on the wall alongside the X-shaped device were various whips and riding crops. I was sure these were to be used on the individual once he or she were secured to the X.
Closer to me, although I hadn’t noticed at first, was a wooden table. At one end of the table there were post extending to about six-feet above the floor. Halfway between the table and the top of the post were more leather and buckle type restraints like those I had seen on the X. Studying it, I supposed it could be used in more than one way, but I’d bet it was usually used to secure the upraised and spread legs of someone lying on the table.
By now I had walked about halfway across the large room. To my right and against the wall, was a large office type desk. Noting that it had a large and comfortably looking chair between it and the wall, I surmised it likely didn’t play the part of a BDSM device. Maybe it was just a place for Burt to rest while one of his clients was bleeding out, I told myself and chuckled at the thought. In fact, I was going to utilize it now.
Standing at the front of the desk, I propped my butt on top and continued surveying the room—uh, the dungeon—my dungeon. What the hell was I going to do with all this stuff? There was another large item that now caught my eye. It looked like something that might have started out as a very large saw-horse. Had that been the foundation of this item, the saw-horse would have been approximately a foot or so wide at the top. It would have then been walled in with something like plywood on all four sides. Then it would have been padded and covered with leather or vinyl. From the far side, a protrusion ran halfway across the side. Another protrusion, just a little higher, ran from the back to approximately the center. These protrusions were also padded and
covered with either leather or a good grade of vinyl. I already thought I had an idea what it was uses for. No, I was all but sure what it was used for.
Studying it some more, already having determined that a subject would mount this thing belly down and be position for most anything coming their way, I realized why the back protrusion was higher than the front. Once positioned, the subject’s bottom would be raised considerably higher than their head, which would rest against the top. They would be positioned to be screwed or whipped, or I supposed both, depending on the agenda.
To the left of where I had entered, there was what looked like old time stocks. They looked capable of securing not only the head and hands, but the feet as well. Each to his or her own, I supposed. Several feet from the stocks was a table about the size of a twin bed. It was also covered with leather. I guessed it could be used for most anything one could dream up.
I stood and decided to take a walk around the room and see what were some of the items on various shelves. On the left side of the X-shaped frame there were paddles and shorter crops to add to the items on the right. There were several canes which appeared to be made from bamboo. They came in various sizes. Farther down on another shelf, I found various types of chains capable of tethering a subject. There were even a couple pairs of handcuffs. On another shelf, there were dildoes and butt-plugs. These came in various sizes. Uh, that would have to hurt.
After surveying the room to my satisfaction, I walked back to the desk. Walking behind it, I pulled out the large chair and had a seat. I wanted to see what was in the drawers.
In the top drawer on the right, I found what appeared to be an address book. It contained several names. Some of the names sounded like bars or night clubs. Other were individuals. There were a couple that appeared to be some type of social clubs. I’d check those two out later. The rest of the stuff in the drawer appeared to simply be stuff one would accumulate over the years; pens, pencils, scratched note and a few rubber bands, etc.
I hit the jackpot in the bottom drawer. What looked to be a large photo album as thick as a LA phonebook lay amongst the other junk. Laying the book atop the desk, I opened the cover. It was a photo album alright, but not like any I had ever seen. These pages were filled with pictures of naked women. Not only were they naked, but they were utilizing the various implements scattered about the room. Starting with the first page, there was a tab attached to the upper right side of the plastic covering. In each tab, there was a name. Sheree, Diane, Savannah, Mary and numerous more. The book was about half filled, but it contained the pictures of several dozen women. They were all nude and in various undignified positions.
Several pictures of one lady named Phyllis left no doubt what the item I had guessed to have originated as a saw-horse was used for. Lying atop the appliance, her finely shaped bottom was turned skyward, exposing both orifices. Her buttocks were covered with red streaks. Yep, I had figured close. Burt, assuming it was Burt who took the pictures, must have used flash; it was too dark in here to get this detail without the extra light. That would also dispute the possibility they had been taken without the women’s permission. You were a rascal, Burt. I had no idea.
I also found pictures of several women lying on the table with the two post. Lying on their backs, their upturned legs were spread wide and strapped in the restraints. Their bottoms were over the edge of the table, allowing them to be spanked, lashed or caned. In addition to all of them having their bottoms covered with red streaks, some had stripes in their vaginal area. As I thumbed through more pages, I found several more women in the same positions. Finding myself becoming aroused, I told myself I didn’t need that for the moment. I closed the album; I would finish looking at it later.
Turning out the light and locking the door with the padlock, I headed up the stairs and into the kitchen. Amongst other things, I had bought a couple steaks at the supermarket. I intended to eat one for supper. Since I’m not the best cook by any stretch, I allow things to cook slow. With that thought, turning a burner extremely low, I found a skillet and dropped a steak into it. I could take another little walk around between having to flip the steak. I also noticed a hardly touched bottle of wine in the fridge. Disallowing any possibility this was what had killed Burt, I poured a generous glass.
Before finishing my tour of the house, I chose to take another look at my backyard and into the desert before it got dark. I had just opened the back door, when the house phone rang. The ring brought me to the reality that there would be people calling. There would be a few who didn’t know Burt had passed away. I dreaded those calls. One never knew how the other party would react. Turning about, I picked up the wall phone in the kitchen and glanced at my steak on the stove.
Chapter Five
Between the time Ginger called and the time she showed up, I took another tour of the house. On the opposite end of the hall from Burt’s bedroom were two smaller bedrooms. Between the two rooms was what I assumed to be a small home office. I hadn’t explored it earlier because my steak was still cooking. Now that I had filled Ginger’s prescription and it was still early, I decided to do that.
With the back of the desk toward the window, I went around and took a seat in a large chair. This time I noted there was an answering machine alongside the phone. With its face toward the window, I hadn’t seen the light flashing earlier. I guess that was to be expected. After all, Burt hadn’t answered this phone for the better part of a week.
There were numerous calls. I press the button and started listening. All but two of the calls were from women. One was from my ex-wife. Having somehow determined where I was, she was wanting to know where the hell was her alimony. After going through the list, I decided, that at my leisure, I would call all of them back except my ex. I deleted that one. A call from one of the men, whose name was John, had sounded urgent. He wanted to know something about an event, a party of some sorts, that was supposed to take place at Burt’s house. The best I could determine, it was to take place tomorrow night.
Doesn’t anybody read the obituaries? I guess not. Of course, then neither did I. I figured I might ought to go ahead and call John now.
“Hello?”
“Is this John?”
“Yes, it is.”
“John, my name is Gordon Lowell. I’m Burton’s nephew. I suppose you are unaware that Burton passed away a few days ago?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. Were you and my Uncle close?
“My lord, I can’t believe it. What happened?” He didn’t answer my question.
“All I know is that he had a heart attack. I just found out yesterday.”
“My goodness, I can’t believe it.”
“Were you and Burt close friends?” I asked for the second time.
“Yes, yes we were.” He gave a deep sigh before stating, “I guess I shouldn’t be worried about something like this now, but I see you’re using Burt number. Are you calling from his house?”
“Yes I am. I might be here for a while considering he left the house to me.”
“Let me ask you this, Gordon, are you familiar with the parties we hold there every Saturday night?”
“No, sir, I’m not. What kind of parties is that, John?” I asked although I was sure I knew.
“Let me ask you a question first, Gordon: have you been down in the basement yet?”
“I have.”
“Good, then you know about the dungeon. Burt and I have a little partnership where we furnish people who are into BDSM a place to play. I furnish all the publicity and I handle everything during the party. All you do is furnish the site. It’s a very lucrative venture and we get to have as much fun as anyone else. Rather than beat around the bush, let me ask you if you’d be interested in continuing these meetings?”
This time, I was the one who didn’t immediately answer.
“We make about a thousand dollars a week each,” John went on to say when I didn’t respond. “There’s usually about
fifty people drifting in and out at that time. We charge forty dollars for a single and fifty for a couple. A lot of single guys will stop by just to watch.”
“Right off the top of my head I’m thinking, why not. On the other hand, fifty people? That’s a lot of people coming in and out of a house.”
John laughed. “It would seem you haven’t discovered the back door. If you don’t know where it’s at, you’ll never find it. People park in the desert, come in the back and never enter the living area of your house. It’s doubtful the neighbors even know what’s going on. If you like, I’ll be there early so we can talk face to face and I’ll get everything set up.”
How could I say no to such an offer? Tomorrow night, we were going to have a party.
After hanging up the phone from talking with John, I realized some of the other calls might be from people inquiring about tomorrow’s event. There were likely some who didn’t know of Burt’s passing and were wondering why the hell didn’t he answer. There might be others who did know of Burt’s passing and inquiring whether the Saturday Night event was going to continue. Some of them might have been clients. I was starting to get into this thing and I didn’t want to lose any clients. I also realized there were some who were comfortable with Burt, but wouldn’t feel the same about me right off the bat.
Two of the calls were from telemarketers. They used their first name’s instead of their company’s names to entice someone to call back, damn their hides. I got rid of them fast. Two or three more didn’t answer the phone, likely being out. Three of them had heard the news about Burt after they had left a message on the machine. It seemed John had been busy after talking to me.