Loser

by Valerie J. Long

  “That’s the new Martian Phobos Mark IV, the big Martian’s little brother. That baby is so-to-say space-going, armored, can dive two meters deep, of course with all-wheel-drive, it has a self-repairing nanotech chassis and all bells and whistles aboard, from massage chair to autopilot. I’ve selected the camping equipment for the cargo bay, so that you have a nice large bed.”

  “It must be terribly expensive,” I mused and examined Ronnie’s face. I knew the approximate price—I’d have had to work a long time for it, and there I’m not referring to the wellness center. He beamed with pride.

  “Yes. As it’s standing there, with the reactor in the back, one point four million Euro.”

  “One point four…Ronnie, that’s too expensive.”

  “It’s not, but we don’t need to debate that out here. Jo, the price is appropriate, let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  He was serious, I could see that. I’d have to significantly adjust my assessment of the tiny, inconspicuous item that I had found. For such, the villa had really been damn poorly secured!

  Probably that object should never have been kept in a private villa. In a certain way, I still performed this occupation with juvenile naivety, completely ignorant of my interference’s far-reaching consequences. Well, life was easier this way. World politics weren’t for me.

  “Okay. Let me look after the reactor. Or can you help me with the assembly?”

  “Now? Oh—well. I guess it’s better I’m watching instead of being hit out of the blue at the other end of town, what?”

  Under my killing glance, he flinched, but then grinned like a boy.

  “Trust me,” I added unnecessarily. “Open, please.”

  “Do it yourself,” he returned and pointed at the door handle.

  I did—and shrank back when a warm contralto addressed me, “Good evening. Welcome aboard your Martian Phobos. Do you want to perform personalization now?”

  I remembered a lecture on security for Dragon technology. Some objects were simply too expensive to leave them unprotected. As sophisticated as the vehicle’s technology were the security installations. So, if Ronnie hoped to amaze me, I had to disappoint him now—I knew what came next. Before I replied, I climbed into the driver’s seat, placed the fingertips of both hands on the wheel and then focused the small camera eye next to the inside mirror.

  “I am Johanna Meier, exclusive user of this vehicle. I desire complete personalization. Now.”

  “Johanna Meier, your voice pattern is registered. Fingerprint pattern registered. Retina pattern registered. Body profile registered. Do you have specific instructions for this personalization?”

  “My short name is Jo. Your label is Phoebe. Phoebe, you will be reconfigured for reactor operation. Prepare for interruption of power supply. Reactivation can only be done by me.”

  “Configuration requires factory approval.”

  “I herewith approve all special functions. Confirm.”

  Phoebe paused. I knew that the onboard computer now should request a confirmation from the factory, which in turn had to check with the University, where my biometrical data was stored. This access had just been authorized by my request.

  “Confirmed,” Phoebe finally reported.

  “Fine. Open the hood, then.” I got out of the car and smiled at Ronnie. “We can.”

  “You really know your way,” he said inquiringly, while we unloaded the little reactor and carried it to the front. “What was that about the special functions?”

  “Oh, there are a few limitations for inexperienced users,” I evaded the question. “The power delivery of electric cars is simply different. As I’ve driven such cars before, I can start on the advanced level.” On the expert level. I didn’t say it, as instead I first connected the fusion reactor to the car’s charge plug and checked the status of the startup battery and the deuterium supply. Full, as was appropriate.

  The normal battery was quickly removed. As usual for Frostdragon products, the reactor fitted perfectly into the resulting gap, and the power plugs fitted just as perfectly. In order to give the onboard computer precise control over the reactor, I only had to create the control connection, and to this end, I had to start the reactor first, then its self-configuration and last trigger integration with Phoebe.

  A few minutes later, Phoebe hummed happily along, if you could say such about a car. “Done,” I noted and gave Ronnie another kiss. “Thanks!”

  “I’m watching in awe,” Ronnie said. “But that’s Jo.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-Nineteen

  The car extended my range significantly. On my bike, I could reach Wiesbaden or Bad Homburg without trouble. With the car I could now, for example, visit the casino in Baden-Baden—or plan a trip to Monte Carlo.

  Similarly, also my range for nightly missions grew, although I had to observe two aspects—first, I still needed an opportunity for inconspicuous research, second, such a rare and striking vehicle mustn’t be correlated to the burglaries.

  These and my exercises consumed a growing share of my time, while I still couldn’t neglect my official profession. At least, as one of the house’s stars, I could afford to limit my availability. On the weekend, I worked around the clock, if necessary, and in exchange, I left the clients to my colleagues on workdays. They were more dependent on that income.

  They weren’t always happy with that.

  A knocking at my room door tore me from my slumber. In addition I heard a voice with an urgent undertone. “Jo? Hello, Jo?”

  Unwillingly, I rose and trudged to the door. “Coming.” Kat stood outside. “Wassup?” I asked.

  “Jen’s in trouble, quick!”

  Kat was already hurrying away. I followed her. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about dressing up first hereabouts—the dress code that we followed at sleep was always fine.

  Even before we reached the client rooms level, I heard loud smacks and Jen’s cries, and I sped up. The door was open, so I stormed inside without knocking. Jen was fettered to the bed face-down. Jen’s back showed bloody welts. Behind her, the naked client was standing with his back to the door and just reaching out again with his whip.

  Yes, sadomasochistic services were possible in our house now—within strict limits. One of this limits said no blood. That he reached out despite the injury sufficed to me—I kicked the whip out of his hand.

  “What the devil?” he cursed. “I paid!”

  Then he tried to attack me. A mistake, as Jen’s appearance hadn’t improved my already bad mood after interrupting my beauty sleep. He ran right into my knee that served his most delicate parts an exclusive SM treatment free of charge.

  While he was writhing on the floor crying, I gained a more detailed view on the situation. Jen was sobbing. Her back didn’t look good. The tip of the whip didn’t look good either—it had a knot that didn’t belong there.

  “Where’s Lydia?” I asked Kat.

  “Out of house.”

  “Call her. She has to come immediately, regardless of what she’s doing. Then you call the doctor, and then the police. Who’s on duty downstairs? Torsten? Send him up and place a girl at the reception. Then you come back with the first-aid kit. Got it? Lydia, doctor, police, Torsten, you.”

  Kat nodded and disappeared. I relieved Jen of the cuffs and moved her legs together. “Stay there, dear. All will be fine. I won’t leave you alone now.”

  “You bitch, I’ll show you,” I heard a choked voice behind me. I only briefly glanced back. “I’ve seen enough. Shut up.”

  Torsten appeared in the door. “What’s going on?” Then he saw Jen’s back. “Oh crap.”

  I pointed at the client. “Get him out of my eyes, and hold him until the police arrives. The charges are severe battery, injurious conduct to business interest, and breach of domestic peace.”

  I ignored the sadist’s further clamor. To me, only holding Jen’s hand counted, gently stroking her and talking to her reassuringly, although I guessed that these injuries wouldn’
t heal without leaving traces.

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-Twenty

  Lydia found me in the staff room, where I tried in vain to stare a hole into the wall. She sat down next to me and waited.

  “Hello, Lydia,” I finally welcomed her. “Excuse me if I don’t wish you a good evening.”

  “It’s no good evening, right?”

  “No?”

  “Can you tell me in a few words what’s going on? I’ve only seen the police cars up the street. Asa said something about Jen?”

  In sober words, I reported how I had found Jen and the client. Lydia didn’t interrupt me. She only paled.

  “The doc took her to the hospital—Kat and Torsten are with her now. The police have blocked the room for securing of evidence and taken the client with them—I only fear his lawyer will soon have bailed him out.”

  “Dragon snot.” Lydia shivered. “Poor Jen. What’s the doc saying?”

  “No permanent damage. But that’s about her insides. She’ll have scars—at her back and in her head.”

  “Yes. I’ll call our lawyer next.”

  “Why?”

  “Eva made precautions. We not only have house rules—our terms of service clearly state that such injuries are to be compensated independent of criminal prosecution. We’ll claim smart money, loss of earnings, and perhaps occupational disability, but we’ll also take the compensation. I’ll have the deposit debited right now.”

  “We have a deposit?” I asked.

  “Yes. What works for rental cars or hotel rooms, can work for humans, too. I know, that’s little relief for Jen, but it might carry her across the first pain. Well, and then the lawyer will have to talk to you about your case.”

  “My case?”

  Lydia leaned forward. “Let’s not fool ourselves. It’s as clear as the sun that you had to prevent another whiplash. It’s also clear that he attacked you, but it’s just as clear that he’ll sue you anyway, for libel, battery, brutality, and whatever his lawyer might come up with. We’ll have to get you out of that cleanly.”

  “Fucking shit.”

  “Exactly. Jo, the world isn’t getting better. Since the Dragons left, we’re rapidly going down. Perhaps that will turn someday, but right now, the honest ones are on the defensive.”

  “Not good for us.”

  “No. All the time, we get more, and more brutal, clients. Twenty years ago, they’d have been juvenile bullies, but today, they’re grown-up sadists. Our girls know that we don’t just have sunshine—you know best. I’m not speaking of an ass fuck and a mocked rape with a few slaps in the face. I thought we could prevent the worst stuff with some rules, but that didn’t work out. For now, I can’t do anything but banning whips, and I’ll do that next.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-Twenty-One

  Right from the start, I didn’t like the guy waiting at the reception. I even less appreciated that Lydia came to the back and straight toward me.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Client. He asked for you right away.”

  “A new one? Well. What does he want?”

  “French.” Lydia hesitated.

  “Come on, what is it?”

  “That’s on the house.”

  “Pardon?” I’d never heard of it. Above all other basic rules there was the iron law that Eva had announced since founding her wellness chain—there’s no free service, except inside the family. “Is he a family member?”

  Lydia made a face. “Now he is.”

  “Okay. Why?”

  “He’s a cop. He can cause us a lot of trouble, or he can help us. He’s given me the choice. Either he can interrogate you privately on a room, or they’ll take our shop apart—a reason can always be found.”

  “Crap.”

  “You tell. But what should I do?”

  I had to think of the other girls. A shutdown would hit them hard—or force them to work on the street, with all the shitty side effects.

  “Fine. I’ll do him right.” After all, it was just sex.

  “Thanks, Jo. Of course, you’ll have your share.”

  “Oh, forget it. That’s on the house.”

  Of course this issue smelled fishy. Coercion, corruption, sexual exploitation, abuse of office—but Commissioner Ulf expected to get away with it.

  I could simply have processed him—a quick act or two and bye. He’d have deserved it. Naturally, that was out of the question for me. Even if this cop expressed his low regard of us by simply demanding free service, I still loved my profession. For me, it was a question of honor to serve him well. Just the opposite, I turned the table and showed him how good I truly was. I always liked to do that.

  In the end, he begged for mercy, and I let him go. With a cheerful “Come back sometime” I waved him goodbye. He turned around and gave me a sad glance. No, he won’t return soon.

  “I don’t know if I can stand that,” he confirmed my suspicion. “But perhaps I might invite you for a coffee one day?”

  Oops. “How do I deserve that?”

  He smiled. “You know, Jo—I had considered it a good idea to finagle your service. I’m cop, you’re a whore, so I just take it. But you didn’t play the role I had meant for you. You didn’t treat me like a corrupt, cynical cop should be treated. I’d say, I owe you one. Moreover, I’d like to learn to know you better.”

  That was no mutual desire, at least not regarding the personal area. However, if he could play or discard the cynical cop at his discretion, I could play the cynical whore. It didn’t hurt to have a cop as friend, and if I played my role well, he’d never ask how honest I was. Girl friend erotic was part of the standard menu, wasn’t it?

  “Yes, I’d like to have a coffee with you. Just give me a ring.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-Twenty-Two

  “Jo!” Again an energetic knocking tore me from sleep. “Jo, please!”

  A little artificially triggered adrenaline rush brought me up to speed. I tore my door open—and swallowed the harsh reply, when I saw Kat’s worried face. “What’s up?”

  “Down there are three guys,” she began. “They want to see you, at once.”

  “Aha. What guys?”

  “Brutes. They’ve struck Martin down and then threatened to beat everyone inside up if we don’t bring you. We shouldn’t hope for the police, they’ll all be on important missions. What shall we do now?”

  “I come down and let myself be beaten up, right?” I dryly returned. “Or you call the police anyway. Or you all disappear via the back door.”

  “There’s another one, Tess says.”

  “Dragon snot. Okay, move out of my way.”

  “You really want to go?”

  “Sure I want.” What else should I do? Wait until they’ve beaten up all my colleagues, and my turn still came? No. However, I fetched a long tee shirt that I put on while walking down the stairs.

  Martin lay curled up in a corner. Three guys with Bully written across their faces watched me expectantly. One wore brass knuckles with protruding jaws, one played with a steel chain, the brute in the center wore gloves that seemed to be roughed up on the outside.

  “What do you want?” I addressed them.

  “You’re the witness,” the middle man said. “It would be better for you to forget what you’ve seen.”

  “Exactly,” Knuckles agreed.

  “Jawoll,” Steelchain added.

  “And what about him?” I asked, pointing at Martin.

  “He wasn’t cooperating,” Glove explained with an abysmally ugly grin. “But you will be cooperative, won’t you?”

  I mocked a frightened face while clenching a mental fist and thinking of Jen, whose back would never again look like before. “Yes, of course!”

  “That’s fine. What do you think, does she need a little reminder?”

  His mates grinned even uglier, if possible.

  “This won’t be necessary,” I hurried to say. “I’ll surely remember not to remember!”

  “Sure?�
�

  I gave Martin a long glance. “Totally sure.”

  “Well. It would be better for all here if we wouldn’t have to return.”

  “You don’t need to,” I quickly assured them. No, that would truly be better for all concerned.

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-Twenty-Three

  As soon as the three were out of the door, I hurried into the kitchen. Had they placed someone in front of the window there, too? No, not as far as I could recognize. So I swung myself out of the window and hurried to the building’s corner barefoot.

  From all I could see, the four guys had bought into my story. They were still laughing when they got into their car behind the next corner. I quickly cowered behind another parking car when they drove off.

  I had their license number, and that sufficed.

  “How’s Martin?” I asked Kat after my return.

  “Bad. Was that for Jen?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you revoke your statement?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Jen?”

  “Jen will neither be better nor worse for that. But for you, it’s better if those guys think they’ve successfully intimidated us.”

  “But they only think that.”

  I watched Kat. “Are you intimidated?”

  “A little.”

  “You should be. Look at Martin—do you think your odds are better than his?”

  “Nnno.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But—”

  “No but. For you, this issue is settled. You don’t want to know anything beyond.”

  We looked into each other’s eyes. “But this guy won’t get away with it, right?”

  “You won’t know that.”

  But we understood each other.

  I checked with Martin, shook his hand, then I went to my room and fetched my rarely used mobile phone. “Hello, Ronnie. Would you mind giving me a visit occasionally?”