“Oh…and one more thing,” he told her. “We usually request that clients be hanged in the nude. Does that bother you?”
“In the nude? Why?” she asked.
“It lets us verify that we’ve done it right, that your neck really is broken.”
“How does that work? I mean…why does that require me to be naked?”
He hesitated a moment. “People who die by hanging show certain bodily reactions. When the neck is broken, the body usually has an orgasm. We’ve seen it time and again.”
“An orgasm?” She gave him an incredulous look. “How can you actually see that someone is having an orgasm?”
“With males, it’s obvious.” He shrugged. “With women, the signs are more subtle: erection of the nipples, swelling of the clitoris and vaginal labia, things like that.”
“Hah!” The sudden laugh sounded bitter. “I’ve gone over two years without sex, can’t even get satisfaction playing with myself—and now you’re telling me I’m going to have an orgasm…after I’m dead.”
“Well, your body will. You won’t be able to feel it with the brain disconnected. Sorry.”
“OK…I’ll go out nude,” she said with a sigh. “Won’t make any difference to me, but at least my vagina will die happy.”
OK—done deal, he thought. But then again…Her sad look gave her a certain sexual appeal.
“Vanessa, if you’re interested…we could arrange for you to have sex before we hang you.”
“Sex with who?” she sounded skeptical again.
“Well, we don’t bring in outsiders. Your choice of partners would be limited to Ferry people assigned to your account—me, unless you want a female partner. If so, Lisa—the woman who brought you in here—will accommodate you.”
“Wow…that’s got to be a job hardship,” she said with a trace of the former bitterness. “You have to have sex with fat, ugly clients.”
“You’re not fat and ugly,” he told her sternly. “I call it a job benefit, not a hardship. We normally charge extra for it, but in this case, I’d be willing to include it for free. You’ve got three days if you want to think about it…”
“Don’t have to think,” she said, with a feeble attempt at a smile. “I’ll take it—with you, don’t want a woman. So Tuesday you screw my brains out, then put a rope around my neck, and send me off with a giant orgasm. Sounds like a plan.”
“OK,” he said, “I’ll add that to the contract…”
“You actually put in the contract that you’re going to have sex with me?” She gave him an incredulous look.
“Of course. It’s a service for which some people pay extra. Have to keep our accounting straight. All I need is your imprint here, and I’ll see you in three days.”
For a few moments, her face had been animated, alive, but now she settled back into the gloomy depression with which she had come in.
Without comment, she spit on her finger and pressed the indicated square, which promptly turned green. Then she got up from the chair and left the office without another word.
Lisa’s afternoon prospect arrived early, minutes after Vanessa’s departure. They barely had time to switch places—Mark at the front desk, Lisa in her own office—before the skinny, nervous-looking teenager was at the door requesting entry.
By appearances, Mark would have doubted the teen possessed enough money for a Ferry contract, but NorthStar’s background check had shown he had plenty of money—in his own accounts, not something that needed parental approval to spend. After checking his ID, Mark touched an icon on the screen.
“Ms. Woods,” he told Lisa, “I have Mr. Merkle, your one o’clock appointment.” He put emphasis on the time—and a note of disapproval in his voice—to let Merkle know he’d be lucky if the exalted Ms. Woods didn’t keep him waiting for an hour or so.
“Thank you, Mark. Please show him in.”
He led the young man to Lisa’s office, nodded to her, and closed the door as she rose to greet the arrival. He went back to the reception desk to work until the interview was over.
It was more than an hour later when the teenager left. Smiling at the “contract for review” message that had popped up on his screen, Mark locked the building down and went to meet Lisa in the cafeteria. He made himself a sandwich, then joined her at their table.
“Well, we’re two for two today,” she said with a smile.
“Yes, we are,” he told her. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I gave Vanessa pre-term sex for free. I don’t know why—just an impulse thing. She looked like she needed something to…I don’t know, hard to explain it.”
“No need,” she told him with a wink. “I understand—you’re just a sucker for little lost kittens. Besides, she could just barely afford the basic contract. I hit Merkle up for twice as much.”
“I noticed,” he said. “Good job on that.”
“He can afford it. Besides—as I expected—I had to fuck him to close the deal. Talk about socially challenged…I threw out all the visual and verbal signals, practically pulled down my top and flashed my tits at him, but he was too nervous to respond. Finally, I just told him to stand up and drop his pants. The kid’s a total submissive. He’s lucky we got him before some dominatrix did.”
“Yeah,” he grinned at her. “Lucky for him…”
She blushed. “Well, OK…so he’s going to be dead in a few days—if he shows up for it. But honestly, he’s not equipped to make it in the world, anyway, a real candidate for a Darwin Award. By the way, thanks for your help on this one.”
“My help?”
“Yeah…you gave him the impression I was a big executive. Made it easier to convince him to sign, since he wanted to be dominated in the first place.”
“You are a big executive!” he insisted. “You’re the second-ranking officer in the company, right under me.”
“Under you, am I?” She gave him a wicked grin. “So how come you like it so much when I’m on top?”
After the much-delayed lunch, they decided to close for the day. They were on their way to the elevators when a chime announced that someone was requesting attention at the Ferry’s drop box outside the front gate. A check of the security cameras showed a FedEx driver with a large envelope in hand.
“Personal for Mr. Mark Marshall or Ms. Lisa Woods. Need a signature for this one,” the driver responded to Mark’s query. “I’ve plugged into your box.”
Mark opened the app on his pad, pulled out his stylus, and provided the requested signature.
“Thanks. Have a nice day.” The driver dropped the envelope into the box, got back in his truck, and drove away.
“Probably just an application,” Mark said. “Some people don’t like doing stuff like that online. Either that, or its some legal paperwork.”
He checked the holstered pistol on his belt, then unlocked the door and went out front to retrieve the package. The Ferry had enemies in the world—enough that he and Lisa armed themselves whenever they left their own apartments, even for Time Out Day in the locked-down office.
Lisa stood near the gate to provide backup, but Mark retrieved the envelope without incident. The drop box had already scanned the item and declared it harmless.
Inside, with the building secured again, they opened the package and found two more envelopes—one addressed to Mark, and the other to Lisa—bearing the return address of a Napa Valley law firm. Mark opened his first, and his jaw dropped in amazement.
“Granny!” he exclaimed.
Lisa had opened hers as well, and there were tears in her eyes.
“You crazy, wonderful old lady…” she said.
The envelopes contained certified checks, made out to them personally, for one million dollars each. A note on the law firm’s letterhead advised that the checks represented a bequest from the estate of Sylvia Peterson, per a codicil added to her will the day before her death. It went on to say that it was Ms. Peterson’s wish that the money be used for their own personal purposes, to “celebrate a
nd enjoy life to the fullest, as she herself had done for all her years.”
Later that evening in Mark’s apartment, they toasted Granny with a glass of Merlot.
“You know…we really don’t need the money,” Lisa said. “I’m wondering if I shouldn’t donate mine to some worthy cause.”
“Yeah…you’re right,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “‘Celebrate life,’ she said. I know exactly what I’m going to do with mine. I’m going to give it to CSPC—with the requirement that it not be used for Ferry terminations. I’ll name Eunice as the administrator, and she can use the money for whatever she needs, so she won’t have to send people here.”
“That’s a great idea, but my twisted sense of humor says we have to make sure she knows the money came from us,” Lisa insisted. “It’s probably the last thing she’ll ever expect.”
“Not sure about that,” Mark told her. “I’ll let her know it’s coming from us…but I think she’ll understand when I tell her it’s being established as the ‘Lacrisha Jones Memorial Fund.’”
He raised his glass in a toast.
“To the Ferry…and to more Grannies and fewer Lacrishas.”
Chapter Fifteen
Vanessa and Jimmy Redux
Vanessa showed up Tuesday morning at 9AM, looking as depressed and unkempt as she had the first time.
“Well, this is it,” Mark greeted her as she settled into the chair. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah…I guess I am.” At least she was looking at him this time. “Are we still gonna…you know, have sex?”
“Of course,” he told her. “But first I need your ID, and I need you to imprint the contract again. It just confirms we’ve passed the waiting period. This is your last chance to change your mind.”
Can’t have women just coming here to have sex with me and then walking out the door, he thought. Expressed preferences notwithstanding, once she imprinted the contract, her life would be legally his to take, by whatever method he chose. She produced the ID card and imprinted the contract without hesitation. He nodded with satisfaction.
“Are we gonna do it here?” She cast a hesitant glance at the futon against one wall of his office.
“No,” he told her. “There’s a bedroom upstairs, and I’ve got a bottle of wine on ice.”
“That sounds nice…” she said with a nervous smile.
“Let’s go this way,” he waved her toward the side door, “so we don’t have to go through the reception area.” He’d already flashed a message to Lisa: Going upstairs.
Have a nice fuck, she flashed back. I’ll meet you down below after you drop her.
Half an hour later, he knelt beside the bed, gently stroking Vanessa’s cheek. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her face devoid of emotion.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
“It’s not your fault. You did everything you could. It’s my fault. I just couldn’t do it.”
“Vanessa…”
“No, really…I know you tried. You tried harder than any man I’ve ever been with, but in the end, I just couldn’t…feel anything.”
He had tried, tried extremely hard, from the moment they’d walked into the little bedroom…and she didn’t respond. He’d tried for a long time—the latest-generation ‘male enhancement’ pills allowed him to keep at it as long as he needed to, but…
“Vanessa?” he’d finally asked. “Aren’t you…enjoying any of this?”
She just shook her head. He abandoned the effort and sat back for a moment.
“I can’t…I just can’t,” she whispered. At that point he’d gotten out of bed and knelt down beside her. He tried again to apologize, but she brushed it aside.
“It’s not going to happen,” she told him. “Thank you for trying, but I guess I’ll just have to wait for the one you promised I’d get…after it’s over.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
Without a word, he stood up and got dressed. Then he held out his hands to help her get up. He saw fear in her eyes, a hint of what he’d seen when she thought she was being raped. But then her resolve returned, and she nodded.
She got up, then looked at the pile of her clothing on the floor.
“Should I get dressed?”
“No need. It’s just a short walk down the hall, and there’s no one to see.”
At the end of the short hallway, he led her through the door onto the x-room balcony. As she tried to take in the details of the place, he slipped a handcuff onto her right wrist, then brought her arms around and secured her hands behind her back.
“Wh…what…” She tried to understand what he’d just done.
“I need to do this,” he told her, “so you can’t grab the rope. That’s the only thing that might keep it from working the way it should.”
He walked her out past the control pedestal, and into the center of the red square. As he turned her around to face him, she saw the rope he’d retrieved from the hook on the wall. She started to shake as he slipped the hangman’s noose over her head, carefully pulling her hair out of the way as he drew it snug around her neck.
“Don’t be afraid,” he told her as he positioned the knot to the side of her head. “You’ll soon have that orgasm I promised you.” He put his arm around her shoulder and lifted her chin with his free hand. She continued to shake as he gave her a gentle kiss.
He stepped back to the pedestal and armed the mechanism. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened with a sharp, indrawn breath as he reached for a large red button.
“Goodbye, Vanessa,” he said.
He pressed the button, and she let out a shriek of pure terror as the floor opened under her feet. She dropped out of sight, and her shriek ended abruptly as the inch-thick rope came tight with an audible snap.
He didn’t bother to look down through the open trap door. The fireman’s pole took him to the floor below, where her body dangled from the end of the rope.
Her face was still frozen in the wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of fear he’d seen as she dropped through the floor. Her toes, pointed straight down like a ballerina, swung through the air about eighteen inches off the floor. Perfect, he thought. One of the fine details of a proper hanging was adjusting the rope to exactly the right length, allowing a few inches for it—and the client’s neck—to stretch.
He put on his coveralls and had just wheeled the gurney into position when Lisa came into the room. She paused to admire the dangling corpse, then retrieved her own coveralls.
“Nicely done,” she said. “I watched it on the screens—saw the neck break and everything. Perfect drop.” She moved up next to him and put an arm around his waist.
“That farewell kiss was really sweet,” she told him. “You really did her right.”
“No, I didn’t,” he said gloomily, “I couldn’t do anything with her upstairs. Tried everything, but I just couldn’t get a response. Nothing, not even a tiny whimper of pleasure.”
“I know…I saw. Yes, I was watching that, too,” she admitted. The Ferry’s interior cameras covered everything, including the little bedrooms they used for pre-termination sex. “Not your fault. You gave her a hell of a ride.”
She walked forward and studied Vanessa’s corpse. “Hard to tell if she had an orgasm or not—nipples are up a bit, but…” She examined the body closely, looking for other signs.
“I should have been able to do something for her…” he insisted. Lisa turned back to him and shook her head.
“She was dead inside before she ever came here,” she said. “I watched you, babe…you were magnificent. Nobody could have done it better.”
She put her arms around his waist. Despite his recent efforts with Vanessa, he felt himself responding. She felt it, too, and grinned up at him.
“See? You’re a super stud. Any girl should be happy to have you in bed with her.”
“You may be just a little bit biased,” he told her as his hands came around to fondle her lovely posterior.
“Well, as the Love of Your Life, I might be,” she admitted, “but my kinky nymphomaniac evil twin agrees, and she’s not only unbiased, she’s an expert on the subject.”
“Unfortunately,” she continued, grabbing his wrists and removing his hands from her ass, “we’re still on company time. Let’s get her down from there. Merkle is due this afternoon—and I keep wondering if he’ll show up early again.”
“Yeah…clean-up time.” He turned to the dangling corpse and began removing the handcuffs.
“Sorry, Vanessa,” he told her, “but I think Lisa’s right. You were dead even before you came here.”
As they rolled Vanessa out from under the balcony, Lisa took a moment to examine the dead woman. She lifted an arm, revealing unshaved armpits. She sniffed at them and wrinkled her nose.
“Not much on hygiene, was she…unless that’s just death-sweat.”
“No. She smelled that way when she came in. To tell the truth, it was kind of a turn-on.”
“Hmmm…maybe I should quit taking showers and using deodorant for a few days. But first things first—let’s get Vanessa into the tank. Hopefully, this time we can get some lunch before Merkle gets here.”
“Are you ready, Mr. Merkle?” Lisa asked. The contract lay on her desk, ready for his final imprint.
“Yes, I guess so,” Jimmy told her. There was a hint of nervousness under the sad resignation in his voice. “I…was just wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
“Could we…you know…do it again? One more time before…”
“Have sex?” she gave him a stern look. “You know, Jimmy, we normally charge money for that—a lot of money.”
She leaned back and spread her arms to give him a better view of her. “This…” she said, “doesn’t come cheap. I gave you a free sample last time because I liked you, but…”
“I don’t have any more money,” he whimpered. “I spent it all on…some last things.”
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