by Louise, Tia
When I walked down the narrow hallway on the main floor above, the doorman was confused. I didn’t have an invitation. I was at the wrong door for the girls, but I acted like I knew what I was doing. I flirted a bit, which didn’t work, and when I threatened to call Brisbee, he caved and let me inside.
I’m confused by what’s happening, though. It’s not what I expected based on what I’ve seen or what Joshua said I’d find.
The girls are topless, and most are wearing thongs or lace boyshorts and heels… but I don’t see Brittanie anywhere. The women are my age, and the men are bound. They’re clearly getting off on this, moaning and begging… but it’s more of a dominatrix scene.
One man is handcuffed to a chair with a black leather mask over his eyes. A topless woman is on her knees in front of him massaging his dick aggressively fast. Her large breasts sway over his come-covered thighs and lower stomach. He’s moaning and writhing, begging her to stop… then he comes again.
I’m relieved most of the participants are already paired, because I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. It’s some kind of sex-torture. Not wasting time trying to figure it out, I drift through the room looking for Molly, looking for a way to get out—or a way to let Mark in.
Low grunts turn to loud moans, and the women actually seem to be enjoying this experience. I don’t relate to the exhibitionism—it’s not my style. Still… I suppose if what is happening here is legal, if people are into it, I’ll walk away and never think about it again.
Only, that’s not what we know happens in this place. There’s got to be another room, somewhere where…
“Come with us.”
I recognize that voice.
“Are you ready, Daddy? We want to share.”
Her breathy sighs, her soft voice. It’s the same sickly sweet Marilyn she uses when she’s luring them to their deaths. I freeze at the back of the room watching.
Molly isn’t a teen.
She’s no virgin.
She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’ll lull them into a dream state, a false sense of security. I search her barely clothed body for signs of a weapon. She’s nude except for the red satin boyshorts and black, opera-length gloves.
“Massage or mouth?” She drops to her knees looking up.
The man in front of her is older. He’s not fat like the other ones. He’s lean, a silver fox. “Suck me, and after I come, use your hands.”
“My favorite.” Her voice is playful, and my stomach turns.
Her hands trail up his thighs, and I do my best to stay back, still as a statue. I’m not sure how I’ll get her out of here. I’m not sure what she’s planning to do. Will it be a bloodbath? Does she think she can get away with it?
“I’m so happy it’s our turn to play.” She’s between his legs, getting into position. “What changed?”
She’s fishing. “Brisbee’s coming tonight.”
Ice filters through my veins.
“Just like you’re about to?” She grins, leaning forward to lick her tongue up the shaft of his erection.
Her redheaded partner clicks the handcuffs to the legs of the chair, and slides her fingers down the man’s hairy chest, tweaking his nipples.
He lets out a low groan, adjusting in his seat. “He prefers torture to teenage virgins.”
A younger man passes behind them. His erection wags as his female partner pushes him down on the couch.
“I hate this night,” he groans as she ties his wrists behind him. “I want tight, thirteen-year-old pussy.”
His tone is teasing, and my stomach roils.
Fire sparks in Molly’s eyes, but she emits one of those fake, insipid giggles. “You won’t see me next time. I’m not thirteen.”
“Or a virgin.” Her client leans back against the wall as if succumbing to her spell. “Do it.”
I turn my face. I can’t watch her suck him off. It’s like watching my own child, which I know is ridiculous. I’m only six years older than Molly, but I rescued her from the street when she was only twelve. I took care of her when she was afraid, when she was sick. I can’t look at this, even if I know it’s a means to an end for her.
Loud groans, moans, the creak of furniture as another man cries out. His cock is long and veiny, and he comes hard, coating his legs and his kneeling partner’s breasts. When he’s done, she really gets to work, holding his still-hard dick in one hand and circling her fist fast and tight around his bright pink tip.
His face contorts and he bucks and writhes in the chair, crying for her to stop. She only laughs like a witch in a Halloween show. He keeps struggling and begging, and she keeps going until he comes again.
Their noises coat my skin like fingers. I’m swept up in a cyclone of sex and sweat and torture. Groaning and moaning, their breath is in my ears, their heat blankets my skin like the humidity in the room.
Brittanie isn’t participating tonight. What happens now? How do I get out of here? I’m not going to join, but if I run, I’ll be caught. Who knows what happens then.
The back door I’d been searching for opens, and it doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Gavin walks into the middle of the orgy and crosses his arms, looking around like he’s the Emperor of Madness.
A knot chokes my throat, and I try to disappear behind the curtain. The loud moans, the groans, the post-orgasmic torture continues without pause. He’s not looking for me, and he’s not looking at me. Molly sees him, though. Her lips are smeared and swollen, and she stands slowly, turning to face him.
That’s when he sees her. “Well, who do we have here?”
“Hello, Gavin. Remember me?”
“Molly.” The warmth in his voice makes my skin crawl. “I do… but you’ve changed.”
Molly’s redheaded partner takes her spot, hastily pulling the restrained man’s throbbing cock into her mouth. Molly steps slowly toward Gavin, their eyes locked in what I know is a deadly faceoff.
I’m afraid to move in case one of them sees me. My only hope is the back door isn’t bolted. Would Gavin be that careless? Mark said cocky is a good thing. Cocky means careless.
I pray Gavin has gotten cocky and careless.
Molly’s fingers go to the top of one of her gloves, and she slowly rolls it down. Her bare breasts are round and high on her chest.
“My God,” Gavin hisses. “You are beautiful.”
I have to blink twice, because she is. She’s more mature than I remember, slim body, full breasts, long silver hair curling around her shoulders. She’s sexier than I ever was at her age.
As she walks, her ankles cross, tossing her hips with every step. She moves like a supermodel, until she’s in front of him, blinking and smiling.
“You like what you see, Daddy?” It’s a hushed whisper. “Want me to suck you off then make you come again?”
The man whose dick she was just sucking watches them, his erection deep in the redhead’s throat, and I can tell he’s about to blow.
Gavin cups Molly’s heavy breast, rolling a tight nipple between his fingers. “Amazing,” he muses.
“Will you beg?” Her voice is now a purr. “Will you cry for me to stop?”
“I’ll do more than that.” Gavin’s eyes lock on hers. “If you’re good, I’ll make you a star. You’ll have all the money, the fame. Anything you want will be yours.”
Standing at the back wall, I can’t move. It’s the same promise he made me all those years ago. It’s how he got me to stay at that theater. It’s how he lied to me and ultimately sold me to Guy.
Will she fall for it like I did?
Has she learned? Is she smarter than I was?
She blinks curiously. “If you can do all that, why do this?”
“What can I say?” His lips curl into a smile, eyes shimmering with lust. “I’m just a freak with a fetish.”
The glove is off.
The gun is in her hand.
Her voice is steel. “I’m just a victim seeking vengeance. Time to pay.”
/> It all happens at once.
Gavin strikes her wrist.
The tiny gun explodes with a staccato pop!
My knees buckle, and I hit the floor as the room erupts into chaos. Women are screaming and running. Men with massive erections are fighting against their restraints, yelling to be untied. A lamp hits the floor with a loud crash, then another one. The room is plunged into half-darkness. It’s chaos, and we’ve got seconds before cops raid this place.
Molly… I have to find Molly.
Gavin is gone, running out the way he came in, and Molly’s man in the chair jerks against his handcuffs, his dick waving like a flagpole.
“Unlock me!” He yells.
The girl who was sucking him off ran after Gavin, out the back door.
“Molly!” I yell through the noise and panic.
I’m on my feet trying to find her.
Through the din, I see her fling open the door of a small closet and rip out a brown trench coat. She jerks it over her shoulders and ties the belt fast before dashing full speed out the door after Gavin.
I scan the rug, looking all around, but I don’t see her gun. I don’t know if she has it or if it was kicked under the furniture in the confusion.
All I know is I’ve got to go after her.
He’ll kill her if she’s not prepared.
20
Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.
Mark
My life has been some tough shit up to now.
My dad killed himself. Rick was murdered.
Then I fell in love and almost died.
But watching Lara walk into that place dressed like a hooker is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Joshua and I back away, trusting she’ll get through the door without any problems. We can’t risk the doorman—a job that once was mine—seeing us and knowing she isn’t supposed to be there.
With my guts ripped out of me, trailing down the street behind her, I let her go, to enter that fucking orgy and blend in, to find Molly, and to find a way to open the back door.
I force my feet to move, to follow Joshua to the space behind the building where we’ll search for the door. Only, once we get there, it’s cold, wet, and four doors line the wall. All of them are covered in burglar bars, and we have no idea which leads to where we need to be.
“Fuck!” I shout, spinning in place and shoving my hands in my hair.
“Keep it down,” Joshua hisses. “We’ll know which one when she opens it.”
He pulls a beanie out of nowhere and puts it over his silver hair. The black hoodie covers his slim body, but he’s still dressed in those gray slacks.
“I can’t take much more of this.” I start to pace.
My gun is in the holster at my side, and I go to each door, pulling on them one by one to be sure they’re locked. They’re all bolted.
Be safe, Lara.
She’s done this before. She and Molly were doing this when our paths crossed in Canada. She’s put herself in harm’s way more times than I care to know.
All of that was supposed to end when I put that ring on her finger.
“Fuck,” I grumble again.
We’ve been out here in this cold-assed alley for coming up on thirty minutes. I feel like a fucking amateur. She went in there, and we have no plan for getting her out. We let her walk in that lion’s den with no phone, no weapon of any kind. I’m going to have to fight that doorman to get to her.
He’s probably twice as tall as me and three times as wide.
We’re counting the minutes. I’m mentally revving up my muscles, pumping up my adrenaline to face the guy, when I see something that stops my heart. Reaching out, I slam my hand against Joshua’s chest, pulling him against the brick wall beside me, shoving him down a ways so we’re hidden by the large blue dumpster.
“What—”
My hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his speech.
Heavy footsteps stop at one of the four burglar-bar covered doors, and I keep my head down, waiting as Gavin fights with the deadbolt, giving us the answer we’ve been waiting for.
“Motherfucking piece of goddamned motherfucking shit,” he growls until the lock turns with a loud squeak.
I hope my body covering Josh’s is commonplace enough in this locale for Gavin not to care. So far, he’s unaffected. I’m just another daddy claiming a twink to him.
Joshua’s eyes are round as he looks past my shoulder, watching the man disappear through the doorway. We both hold our breath, and I won’t lie. I’m praying.
God, please make him forget to lock that door.
In all the history of breaks we’ve never gotten, please let us get this one lucky break…
The door slams, and I wait a moment before pushing off Josh and running to the entrance.
“Yes!” I open the heavy metal outer door.
“Wait.” Josh grabs my arm. “What’s the plan?”
“Get in there and get them out.” I grasp the bronze-colored knob of the wooden door… and it’s locked. “God dammit,” I growl.
It’s an obstacle, but not nearly as much as those iron bars.
“Stand back,” I say.
Joshua moves away, and I reach out to brace my body with the burglar door and the doorjamb. I take a deep breath, ready to throw all my weight behind my leg against this door when everything changes.
A sharp pop! of gunfire sounds from the other side. Screams, crashes, and noises like furniture breaking erupt from the other side of the door. The knob turns, and I look to Joshua. We both are thrown behind the reinforced black outer door as the one I was about to kick in flies open.
Gavin charges past us without even looking, leaving the door open behind him. It takes us a second to get from behind the fucking barred door, but two half-naked women run out behind him, eyes wild and arms covering their tits.
They push past me, knocking me off balance.
“Shit!” I yell, turning to Joshua. “Call 911, report a shooting at this address. Now!”
Joshua’s on his phone, and I’m about to head inside to find Lara when a streak of silver hair slams into me. I grab her arms, and our eyes lock.
“Molly!”
Her blue eyes are wild, fierce and determined. “Let me go!”
“Where’s Lara?”
Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “She’s supposed to be with you. Let me go—he’s getting away!”
I move her to the side, pushing her in the direction of our friend. “Joshua, keep an eye on her.” Then I’m running down the hall, taking the short flight of stairs at the bottom.
Just as I round the corner, I’m body-slammed by the woman I’ve been panicking over for the last half hour.
“Mark!” Lara grabs my arms. Joshua’s gray blazer is over her body, but she’s still in her costume. “We’ve got to hurry! Gavin, Molly—”
“I saw them. Gavin got away, but I left Molly with Joshua.”
We hurry up the steps and then the hall. Lara leans heavily on my arm, trying not to fall as she runs in needle-thin heels.
Outside, the entire alley is empty.
It’s quiet and damp, like we’ve stepped into another world.
“What…” I look all around. “Where did they go?”
“Where is she?” Lara’s voice is a gasp. “We’ve got to find her. She’s determined to finish this.”
The noise of sirens growing louder tells me we don’t have time to figure it out in this location. Cops will be flooding into this place in less than two minutes, and the last thing we need is for Lara to be implicated in an underground sex-trafficking ring. She’s dressed for the part, and it would take too long to explain.
“Come on.” I pull Lara to me, and we run down the alley, searching for another passage to the street. Digging in my jacket pocket, I pull out her phone. “Text Joshua. See if he’ll respond.”
I stop when we round a corner, and she rips off the pink wig followed quickly by the stocking cap
over her dark hair. They fall to the ground, and her dark hair spills in waves around her shoulders. Still, her face is garishly made up, and she’s only wearing panties under that blazer.
“I need to get some clothes,” she says.
Looking back over my shoulder, I realize we left the plastic bag with her jeans and sweater in the alley behind the dumpster.
“That place is swarming with cops by now.”
“Good. I hope they arrest every one of those men.” Her jaw is tight. “I only wish they knew everything.”
“Hang on.” We step into the alley again, and I pull off my jacket and my shirt. Handing them to her, I pull off my white tank and hold it out as she hands me back my clothes. “At least you’ll have a shirt.”
“Panties and your undershirt.” She shakes her head. “Thigh high fishnets and stilettos. I still look like a hooker.”
“First souvenir shop we pass, I’ll grab you a Seattle sweatshirt.” We’re still breathless, making our way up the sidewalk toward Joshua’s apartment. Lara leans heavily on my arm, doing her best to stay upright in those shoes.
“Joshua hasn’t texted me back,” she says, looking at her phone.
“What do you think?”
“We could go to Montage…” Her blue eyes meet mine, and I nod.
“Here.”
We step into a small drugstore, and Lara opts for black leggings and flip flops instead of a sweatshirt. It’s not ideal, but we’re moving faster now.
Two more blocks, two corners, another street, and we reach the club. It’s lit up like a rave, and music blares from inside every time the door opens. A crowd of club kids congregates on the street and into the alley like every other night. The scent of pot is thick around them, and as far as they know, nothing happens outside these four corners. It reminds me of theater life in New Orleans.
“I know where he is,” she says, darting out ahead of me.
I lunge behind her, grabbing her arm. “Stop. You can’t charge in there. We don’t know if he’s armed—”
“Molly is in there!” Her blue eyes are wide.