by Radclyffe
“I am not sleeping,” he said roughly.
“So where are we going?”
“We will be there soon.”
Sandy debated pushing him a little bit further, but she didn’t think he was going to talk and she was pretty certain if she pushed him too far, she’d find herself on the side of the road. Maybe walking, maybe not moving at all. She settled back down on the seat.
“Is there anything to drink?”
“There will be drinks at the party. But you should not drink.”
“Why not?”
“Because men do not like drunken girls.”
“These guys. They’re your friends? Germans, like you?”
“I am Russian, not German,” he growled, confirming her guesswork.
“Oh, cool.” Sandy felt the car slow and slid her hand into the front pocket of her jacket. Her fingers closed over her cell phone. “Hey, we’re here. Cool.”
A few seconds later, the rear door opened and the first man reached in and grasped Darla’s hand. He guided her out, not roughly, but he kept a grip on her, as if she might suddenly run away. When Sandy climbed out, the other guy was right behind her. She glanced around quickly. They were in the turnaround at the side entrance to a hotel, and she couldn’t see the main sign from where they were. She could make out letters on the glass door of the entrance opposite where they parked. A hand closed around her left arm, marching her quickly toward the hotel. She slid the cell phone from her pocket and held it down by her leg, pushing buttons from memory. When they got almost up to the door, she took a picture, hoping she got the name. Then she carefully slid it back into her jacket. She had a lot more pictures to take.
She stepped into the hotel and put on a bright smile as they waited for an elevator. “This is going to be fun.”
Twenty-second floor, room 2208. She repeated the numbers to herself. She and Darla were sandwiched between the two big men in front of a room at the end of the hall. When the door opened, she felt a hand on the small of her back directing her forward. The suite was huge, with two seating areas joined by open double pocket doors. She counted eight men at first glance and three or four girls about her age. The men all wore shirts and trousers, as if they had just recently come from a business meeting. The girls didn’t wear much of anything at all. Short skirts, thin cotton tops, high heels or thigh-high boots. A couple looked young. Really young. Fifteen, maybe. She knew, because she’d been fifteen when she’d started. But she hadn’t started off in places like this. The first trick she’d ever turned was in a bus station. She’d blown a guy for the price of a ticket to somewhere, anywhere, except where she was.
The night she’d met Dell she’d been giving a routine hand job in an alley when the john decided to get rough. If Dell hadn’t stepped in, she probably would have been able to handle him, but she’d have worn the bruises on her face and body for a long time. Sandy pushed that memory away. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t a girl at all.
Next to her, she sensed Darla getting skittish. She had probably expected a fraternity party, with boys and beer and a couple of blow jobs in the bathroom. These were not boys. These were men, and the way the men looked at them made it clear they considered the girls on a par with the trays of hors d’oeuvres sitting around the room. She was surprised that most of them were speaking English. For some reason, she’d expected them to be foreign, like the guys who brought them, but they weren’t.
Sandy took Darla’s arm and tugged her toward the wet bar along one side of the room. The surface was covered with ice buckets, open bottles of liquor and champagne, and stacks of glasses. “Let’s get a drink, honey,” she said loudly, “and then we can get acquainted with these handsome men.”
“This place is creeping me out,” Darla whispered. “Who are these guys?”
As they reached the bar, Sandy lowered her voice. No one was really paying all that much attention to them, and she slid her camera from her pocket again. “High rollers. If you hear a name, try to remember it. Mix us a couple of drinks. Make them weak—mostly water and ice. You want them to think you’re partying, but you need to keep your head on straight, okay?”
“Can’t we just get out of here?” Darla pleaded. “I’ve got enough money for us to get home on the bus.”
“Once you tell these guys you’re in, you’re in for the whole ride. It’s the safest way to play it.” Sandy leaned on the bar, her phone propped between a couple of glasses. She shielded her cell with her hands, hoping there was enough space between the glasses to get some shots of the guys sitting around the room.
“Should I offer to do them or anything?” Darla dumped ice cubes into a couple of short glasses and dashed a little scotch into each one.
“Just sit down next to one of them with your drink and wait until someone talks to you. They’ll let you know what they want. Try not to go into a room alone with any of them. After they’ve had a few drinks, they’ll probably do it right out here.”
“Don’t leave me, okay?” Darla said, her voice trembling.
“I won’t. I gotta pee right now, but I won’t go anywhere. Promise.”
*
Watts shifted in the front seat and the car rocked slightly. “There’s a Stop and Rob around the corner. I could use some coffee. Anyone else?”
“Not me,” Rebecca said.
“I’m okay.” Dell checked her watch again. 1:30. Jesus. “Don’t take too long, huh?”
“You need me, you know where I am.” Watts heaved himself out of the vehicle and slammed the door.
Dell leaned her head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have left her alone. I went over to check on Irina. I should’ve stayed home.”
“It’s Saturday night,” Rebecca said. “Sandy is usually out and about for a while.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dell sighed. “Sorry. Guess I messed up your night. Watts’s too.”
“It’s not a big deal, Mitchell. I wasn’t asleep yet, and Watts was just heading out for a late date when I called him.”
Dell rocked forward. “A date? Watts?”
“Apparently with a certain Port Authority captain.” Rebecca chuckled. “Anyhow, this is the job. And it’s Sandy.”
“Man, I—” Dell’s cell rang and she jerked, fumbling at her belt. She yanked it off. “Mitchell.”
“Baby, it’s—”
“Sandy,” Dell said, forcing herself to be calm. “Tell me where you are.”
“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere in Trenton.”
Sandy spoke so softly Dell had to close her eyes and concentrate as hard as she could to hear her over the pounding of her own heart. Some kind of rushing noise in the background. Water running? “Are you in a house somewhere? Did you see any street signs?”
“No, a hotel. Wait a minute. Let me see. I took a picture.”
Dell’s stomach twisted into a chain of knots. “Can you leave? Sandy, can you leave right now?”
“I don’t think so. Darla’s with me. I don’t think they’re going to let us just walk out.” Silence. “There. Sheraton.”
“Which one? Does it say?”
“I’m not sure. Close to 95.”
“We’ll be ther—”
“I gotta go, baby. I’ll try to call you when we’re leaving. It might not be until morning.”
“Jesus, Sandy,” Dell yelled, finally losing her cool. “I want you to get out of there. You—”
“I’ll be okay. I love you.”
Dell was left listening to dead air again. “Jesus Christ!”
“Where is she?” Rebecca said, starting the engine.
“Trenton. Fucking Trenton!”
Rebecca pulled out onto Spring Garden and headed east, cruising around the corner toward the all-night food mart. Watts was just walking up the street with his coffee. She eased up to the curb next to him. “We’ll head up there. But chances are whoever took her will transport her right back down here. They’re not likely to hurt these girls, Mitchell,
as long as they don’t find out what Sandy’s doing there. And Sandy’s smart.”
“If she was that smart, she wouldn’t be there.”
“No. If she weren’t as brave and ballsy, she wouldn’t be there.”
Mitchell rubbed her face. “I could use some of those balls right now.”
“What’s this about your balls?” Watts said, sliding into his seat. “You having equipment problems, kid?”
“Not now, Watts,” Rebecca said softly.
“No,” Dell said gruffly. “Woman problems.”
Watts blew on his coffee. “Join the rest of us, kid.”
*
Sandy didn’t think she’d been gone more than a few minutes, but when she returned, someone had turned the lights down so that she almost stumbled over an end table. Darla was on the sofa next to a thin man in a white shirt and dark pants. He’d removed his jacket and tie and had his arm draped over her shoulders, his hand on her breast.
Sandy scanned the room. The Russian who’d been in the backseat with her leaned against the wall next to the hallway door. His gaze flicked over her as if she weren’t there, but she had no doubt he knew exactly where she was. Since no one seemed to be paying her any particular attention, she sauntered over to Darla and plopped down next to her. She leaned close, and to anyone looking, it would almost seem as if she had kissed her neck. She knew from experience that at these kinds of parties, guys got off on seeing girls getting it on together. Most of her friends in the life were totally comfortable having sex with each other, and most of the time, would prefer it to the anonymous johns. So they always tried distracting the men with a little girl-on-girl action at parties like this. If they got really lucky, sometimes that was enough.
“Everything okay?” Sandy whispered.
Darla clamped onto her thigh with one hand as if to anchor her to the couch. Then she turned and kissed Sandy full on the mouth. “Missed you, baby.”
Sandy snuggled close, checking to see who might be watching them out of the corner of her eye. A girl knelt on the floor in front of the adjacent chair, giving a man a blow job while he talked on the phone. On the opposite sofa, a big man with hands the size of baseball gloves mauled another girl’s breasts, which he had exposed by pulling her top down and scooping them out like treats from a candy sack. Sandy hadn’t done anything like this in weeks, longer really, since she’d started falling in love with Dell, and she was sickened in a way she never had been before. She had been numb for a very long time, but she wasn’t anymore. Now she was even more determined to stop these men. All of these men.
“Well, I’m back now and I promise not to leave your side for the whole night. Who’s your friend?”
“Oh, this is…” Darla, despite being a little freaked by her surroundings, was no neophyte. She read Sandy’s message loud and clear. Dropping her free hand into the thin man’s crotch, she squeezed fleetingly, making him grunt in surprise. “What did you say your name was, honey?”
“I didn’t.” He looked past Darla to Sandy. “Who are you?”
“I’m Sam,” Sandy said, putting a purr in her voice. “I guess my girlfriend got the lucky seat first.”
“You two together?”
“Uh-huh,” Darla and Sandy answered in unison.
Sandy saw his pants tent under Darla’s hand. Bingo. He liked to watch, and watching was the safest thing for them. If they were really lucky, they could string him along until all the other guys were occupied.
“You don’t mind if I join in, do you?” Sandy slid her arm around Darla’s waist and nuzzled her throat.
“Kiss her,” he said, covering Darla’s hand with his and curling her fingers around the ridge in his pants.
Darla had had practice at this, and they made it look and sound like they were really into each other, showing a lot of tongue more than really kissing. Giving the guy what he expected. Sandy almost never kissed her johns, and hadn’t kissed another woman since Dell. The touch of Darla’s mouth felt strange. Too soft, too casual. When Dell kissed her, she always felt Dell’s need. Dell’s hunger for her. Dell’s kisses could be gentle, but they were always demanding. This was an act, and that was cool with her, especially if it kept her mouth off some guy’s cock.
“Go slow on him,” Sandy whispered in Darla’s ear when they broke for breath. “Don’t let him come right away until everyone else gets busy.”
They went back to fondling and making out while Darla massaged him through his pants. After a while, he unzipped and pulled himself out, but Darla knew how to stretch a hand job into a marathon. By the time he came, everyone else in the room was busy. No one bothered Sandy and Darla as they curled up together in the corner of the couch. After a while the thin man tucked his flaccid penis back in his pants and sat with his eyes closed, drinking his drink.
*
“What about letting me check out the lobby.” Dell stared at the hotel, her skin itching like fire ants were crawling inside her clothes. Sandy was in there somewhere. With men who would dispose of her like so much trash if they discovered why she was there. Even if they didn’t hurt her, they were using her. Dell knew what Sandy had done to survive. She didn’t care what Sandy might have to do tonight to stay safe, as long as doing it didn’t hurt Sandy.
“Can’t,” Rebecca said. “You can bet there’s someone in the lobby. They’ll have someone watching the ground-floor elevators, the stairwells, and outside in the hall by the room. No one is going to get close to the men in there.”
“I can get a look at the guy.”
“And he might look at you. We can’t risk it.” Rebecca turned sideways and stared at Dell in the faint glow of the hotel marquee. “You’re going to get up close and personal with these guys. But when you do, it’s going to be because Irina introduces you.”
“I’ll take a walk around the block,” Watts said. “They’re going to have a car, maybe two, near an exit. I’ll get the license plates.”
“Make sure your cell is on,” Rebecca said. He waved a hand as he closed the door.
“What good is it to her with us out here,” Dell griped.
“This is surveillance, Mitchell. You know how it works. We watch.” Rebecca moved her seat back to give herself more legroom and rubbed the back of her neck.
“You okay?” Dell asked quietly.
“Yes. Little headache. It’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry. I keep thinking I should’ve seen this coming.”
Rebecca laughed softly. “If you ever get to the point where you know what Sandy’s going to do before she does it, let me know. I’ll promote you.”
“Irina agreed to talk to Dr. Rawlings.”
Rebecca turned her head. “Really? Nice work.”
“I think if we could get Witsec for her, she’ll come around about her sister too.”
“I’ll talk to Clark on Monday.” Rebecca grunted. “Hell. Why should he have a day off. I’ll call him later on today.”
“I want to be at the next one of these parties,” Dell said.
“Good. Because that’s the plan.”
*
By sometime around 4:00 a.m., the only sounds in the suite were a few intermittent moans. Several of the girls were curled up asleep on the floor or draped over slumbering men. A few men, still awake, sat drinking and talking. Another was being serviced by two girls, one with her mouth on his cock, the other offering him her breasts to bite.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” Sandy whispered.
She slid from the couch and carefully slipped into the shadows, making her way down the hall. Earlier when she’d gone to the bathroom to call Dell, she’d seen an open door with coats on a bed. After checking that the hall was clear, she darted into that bedroom and closed the door almost completely. A wall sconce gave her just enough light to maneuver by. She pulled her camera out one more time and rummaged through the coats. She knew where to look and quickly found several wallets. Holding the billfolds open to the light, she shot pictures of the drive
r’s licenses behind their clear plastic coverings. She had no idea if her cell phone camera would be good enough for what she needed, so she committed the names to memory. But she knew her word would never be enough. She needed proof.
She’d just opened the third wallet when a muffled curse and the sound of stumbling footsteps alerted her that someone was approaching. Her options were limited. The bed was too close to the floor to crawl under. She didn’t want to hide in the closet in case someone had left their coat in there and was coming to retrieve it. Behind the bedroom door. No. If someone came in and closed the door, she would be instantly exposed. She shoved the wallets back into the coats, praying she had them in the right order, and bolted over the bed and onto the floor on the far side, rolling as close to the bed as possible. The bedroom door opened wide and a shaft of dim light, seeming as bright as a searchlight beam, cut across the room. Sandy held her breath, afraid her panting would give her away. Heavy footsteps approached. The bed sagged as someone sat on the far side, then she heard a few mumbled words in a language she couldn’t understand. It must be one of the Russians.
The unmistakable sound of a zipper sliding down, a grunt, then the liquid sounds of someone sucking. He was collecting a little bonus pay before leaving, which meant that the party was probably going to break up soon. Within minutes he was breathing heavily, and Sandy prayed he would pop quickly before other men began rousing to leave. His grunting increased and the sucking turned to gagging chokes. The bastard wasn’t letting her breathe, and it was all Sandy could do not to vault over the bed and smash him in the face. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, closed her hands until her nails dug into her palms, and told herself she would only make matters worse if she were discovered. He gave a hoarse cry and she slowly let out her breath. It was over, and within seconds, they were gone. Trembling, she got to her knees, checked that the room was empty, and hurried to the door. The hall was clear.
The lights in the main rooms were still turned down low, but as soon as she angled toward the couch she realized something was wrong. Darla wasn’t there. Quickly, she hurried back down the hall the way she had come. Beyond the room where the coats were stored was another room, and she could hear the wet slap of flesh on flesh. She could also hear Darla crying no.