At the beginning of every session, he prefers me on my knees. Waiting for him. Naked, except for a pair of black thigh high stockings with lace tops. Knees spread on the marble floor but feet touching. Auburn hair cascading down, framing my breasts. That is what he likes to see when he walks in. He picks the same suite every time even though the club offers a variety of rooms all over. More privacy that way I guess.
The suite has light brown marble floors, floor to ceiling windows that look out to the woods behind the mansion, three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a spacious living room and a kitchen we have never used. It’s beautiful and luxurious.
But when you look closely, every piece of furniture has some kind of loop for chain cuffs. A closet full of tools gets cleaned daily. Whips, riding crops, paddles, handcuffs, costumes and anything else one would need for any kind of play. Almost any kind. I was told some things have to be ordered a week or two in advance or certain things can only be brought up when requested. Apparently, I will know what these things are when I need them.
Soft steps echo down the hall outside of the suite leaving my heart steady. I know what tonight’s activity is. The same as every other night. While I’m not afraid of what he plans to do to me, I’m also not excited.
“Hello gorgeous,” he says taking up the doorway.
“Hello, Sir,” I say.
He strolls in laying his suit jacket across the back of a leather chair. My only dominant is a lean and trim man. Not too muscular but not flabby. His blonde hair is kept short along with his goatee.
“Been a good girl?” He asks dragging another chair and setting it in front of me.
“Yes Sir,” I say with my eyes glued to the floor.
He caresses my cheek with one hand while undoing his pants with the other. Tracing my lips once before grabbing a fist full of my hair and shoving my head into his lap. It’s waiting for me. Hard and hot when I wrap my lips around it. He lets out a low moan when I work my tongue around the tip. Keeping my hands by my side I work my way down the shaft. Slowly at first. He likes it when I bare my teeth using just enough pressure. His moans become constant and louder as I repeat each trick in a different order. When he fills my mouth I swallow like a good girl while awaiting my new orders. Salty.
OD stands me up and leads me to the dining room table. Bending me over, he kicks my legs open and holds my hands behind my back. I hear him opening something before I feel a stinging sensation on my backside. A swift hit from a paddle knocks me off my feet and sends me sliding across the table. He drags me back into position.
OD then gets leg and arm cuffs to tether me to the table. When he hits me again I stay put. He moves the paddle down my legs hitting me in an unpredictable pattern. He brings it up between my legs and holds it there. He smacks it lightly before moving back to my ass. I know he’s staring at it so I wiggle a little bit trying to get him to touch it. The hit is harder this time but he takes his other hand and rolls my clit between his thumb and index finger. My back instantly arches trying to give him better access.
“Don’t be needy,” he says before paddling me again.
“Sorry Sir,” I whisper.
“Be perfectly still and quiet,” he says.
“Yes, Sir,” I say.
I lay flat on the table trying not to move a muscle. He hits me again. Hard. As the pain radiates throughout my body he sticks one finger inside me. A loud exhale escapes my lips. With every hit, he pumps his finger inside me. The temptation to grind against his finger is screaming at me. With every lick of pain, he adds another finger sending waves of pleasure through my entire body. He works with two for a little while before adding another. Every few hits he adds a new finger until his entire fist is pumping inside me. After every hit, he pumps.
My body aches for a release that is taking too long. After a few more hits, wetness is dripping down my leg while I bite my lip and grab at the edge of the table.
He stops. I hear him moan loudly before his hand retreats.
“Come let’s go to bed,” he says releasing my restraints.
We go into the master bedroom and get into bed. Within seconds, he is sleeping while I’m staring at the ceiling. We finally try something new and I get no benefits of it. He could have waited I was almost there.
My only dominant is not the same man who bought my virginity. OD isn’t mean to me and he doesn’t treat me too harshly for a dominant. But when I’m with him I miss my clients. He’s a tame and lenient dominant. I guess that could be a good thing. He likes much of the same on the nights we are together. I can’t complain because he has never deliberately tried to hurt me or push me too far but it’s almost the same thing every time. Fisting tonight was different.
I guess I just want more. Now that I can I want to explore the club. With him being my dominant I can’t unless he wants to. He pays me well though to do the little bit he’s into.
Reiner paid for my virginity and gave me an amazing weekend but didn’t want to take it further. He says he is into some dark things and doesn’t think I would like them. I often find myself wondering what those things are.
Our first night together he was far gentler than I thought he would be. It was amazing. But it wasn’t what he wanted. The next two nights we did some light BDSM.
What dark things could he like that I haven’t seen at the club yet? When he said that it made me realize there is more to this then I have seen at the other club. I think that is why I want to go exploring so I can see what else is out there. It has to be more than what I’m doing now.
My OD is gone when I wake up and to be honest, I’m not sad about it. He treats me nice and he pays me very well but what he’s into is a little lacking for me. I want to explore this lifestyle and see what other fetishes are out there. His wants are pretty tame to me, although they may be out there to him and the people in his world.
I go through my usual routine: a nice hot bath, some cleaning, and a cup of hazelnut coffee. Then I pack my things and head to the lobby. Sam is always there at the front desk. I never see her anywhere else in the club and when I come here she is always the one I see at this post.
There were some renovations to the club. It is now divided into two sections. The front half is light BDSM. When you walk in you see Sam and four elevators that take you upstairs to the main room. This is where people meet up and talk. It’s where the main shows are. From here you can take the elevators to the floor that corresponds to what you want to do.
The top six floors are hotel rooms. Behind Sam, a door leads to a walkway that leads to another door that opens up to the darker side of BDSM. I think it has the same set up as the light side. If you work for the club you have a card that allows you to go anywhere. But if you are a client you are given a card and you can only go where that card allows you to go.
Sam is late 40s maybe. With gray around her temples, bright red lips, a sleeve of tattoos and a nose ring. I would say she’s been in the lifestyle for a while and there is nothing I could tell her she hasn’t seen or heard before.
“Hey Sam,” I say handing her my red key card.
“Hey, doll. How was your night?” she asks typing into her computer.
“Pretty good. Yours?” I ask.
“Not bad. Keep your card, Black wants to see you. She’s in her office,” she says handing the card back, “you’re all set.”
“Alright, see you next time,” I say.
She gives me a smile accompanied by a wink and I set out to find Mistress Black. She owns this club with her partner James. Together they may own the other club Moist that I use to work at but I don’t remember seeing him there.
To the left of Sam, is a black door with gold ornate designs on it and a card machine on the wall. I swipe my card through it and the door unlocks. This door leads to four rooms. The last one is Mistress Black’s office.
I sit in the chair opposite her desk and wait. Wi-Fi is very limited here and phones are confiscated when you reach the front desk. Sam takes them and locks them away according to the room number or the person you came to see or whether you’re a regular or not. It depends on how she can remember you that night. Even the girls and guys that work here have to turn over their phones. When you leave and hand her your key card you get your phone back. Workers have to hand over their cards every day when we leave. Clients keep theirs. I guess because we have access to all floors we have to leave them here.
Now that I have mine back I power it on and wait for my messages to load. Six missed calls, two voice mail and one text message all from the same person. Jason. I haven’t talked to him since Emily got arrested. Emily and I were friends until I was asked to look into a case involving Mistress Jade. By the end of it, Mistress Jade was killed, someone beat the crap out of me and we (Detective Reiner and me) uncovered a sex trafficking ring that Emily had something to do with.
“Miss Red,” says Mistress Black as she sashays through the door. Her hair is black now. Styled like a 1950s pinup. Not a strand out of place. She wears a black corseted top and a tight black pencil skirt.
“Good morning Mistress Black,” I say tucking my phone away.
“Okay, I put what Richard left you if your account,” she says ruffling through papers.
“What he left me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says.
She shuffles through a few more folders before looking up at me. “You don’t know?” she asks.
“Know what?” I ask.
“He has terminated your agreement,” she says plainly.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“He’s moving to London and getting married, I think. Some nice proper, rich girl. The daughter of his boss I think dear. I’m sorry. I thought he would have told you but I’m not surprised men like him usually leave the dirty work to someone else,” she says.
He left me. Part of me is relieved. Our relationship had grown monotonous anyway. And yet it hurts. Not a stabbing pain or a body quivering, sobbing uncontrollably type of pain. It’s light and dull. I didn’t love him but I didn’t think he’d leave me like Reiner. I know what we had wasn’t a serious relationship I was his submissive when he wanted me and only then. I know nothing about his real life except what he told me which wasn’t much. What’s wrong with me?
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says.
My eyes dart up to meet hers. Did she read my mind? Did I say that out loud?
“I know that’s what you were thinking. There is nothing wrong with you. The only thing that is permanent in this world is death. Working here you will have more than one dominant that doesn’t mean you did something wrong.” she explains.
“Okay. How much did he leave me?” I ask.
“Fifty thousand,” she says.
“Okay, so what now?” I ask.
“You can take a break or you can explore a bit or you can start taking on clients again,” she says.
“Like I was before?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says.
“The same people?” I ask wondering about my old clients.
“Maybe. I’m sure some would love to hear you are available again,” she says.
“Okay, can I take a week to think about it?” I ask.
“Sure dear, you can take all the time you need,” she says before going back to her papers.
“Thanks,” I say on my way to the door.
The walk to my car is a long one. Another one left me. I was just thinking of how I would like to explore the club and he leaves. And he is getting married. I wonder if she knows what he’s into. Or will he find another BDSM club in London?
Truth be told, I miss my old clients. Sometimes I wonder who their new subs are. And if the subs are treating them right.
After everything that happened with my last case I had to move. I had an apartment that was close to the club when I was working and a house further away when I wasn’t. This helped me keep both lives separated from each other. But that didn’t work because I was attacked at my apartment and my house was tossed. So I bought a condo in a very secure building with a doorman and special codes needed to get on the elevator and go to any floor. Reiner helped me find it.
Tommy, the doorman nods his head and opens the door for me when I walk up. In the lobby, there is a concierge desk that always has someone sitting behind it. There are cameras at the front and back entrances and facing the elevators that are being watched by security. I punch my code into the keypad and the elevator doors open up. Once they close I press the number fourteen and my code before it moves. When I’m by myself it’s easier. When there are other people on the elevator its first come first served because each person has to put their code in.
My condo has three bedrooms one of which I turned into an office, two in a half bathrooms and an amazing view of the city skyline. I drop my purse on the table in the foyer and lock the door. I added a deadbolt when I moved in just to be safe. My usual routine consist of me changing my clothes, tying my hair up, defrosting a frozen dinner grabbing a drink and plopping on the sofa in front of the TV. But it’s morning so Sprite will have to work. While waiting for my food to cook I text Jason, telling him to come over along with the guest code to get in. By the time I inhale my food he’s knocking at my door.
“Long time no see,” He says gliding in.
“Yup, you wanted to talk?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
We both take a seat in the living room and I turn off the TV.
“So?” I ask.
“What was that whole thing with Emily?” he asks.
“I can’t really tell you anything that hasn’t already been reported on the news.” I mean I could but I don’t want to.
“She really did all those things?” he asks.
“She wasn’t the only one but yeah she did.”
“You think you know a person,” he says.
“But you never do,” I reply.
Getting much PI work lately?” he asks.
“Haven’t really been looking. I got some business cards done,” I say getting up to go in my office. He follows me.
“Wow, all professional,” he says stepping inside.
“Shut up.” There’s one desk across the room facing the door with two chairs opposite it. Some bookcases, a laptop. Nothing fancy.
“Still, have a few more things I need in here but for right now it will do,” I grab a card off the desk and hand it to him.
“Fancy,” he says.
They’re really not. Simple lettering that says Beth Anderson Private Investigator and then my number underneath. Good stock, though.
“Can I take a stack?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say as I hand him a box filled with cards.
“Rich ladies are always losing something or thinking their husbands are cheating on them. These may come in handy. I’ll send them to you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” he says.
“I’ll call you and tell you all about it when they leave,” I taunt.
“Aww come on!” he whines.
“Get out of my office.”
We go back into the living room. And sit on the sofa.
“You know what, I think I already have a case for you. If you’re not busy,” he says.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Missing person,” he says.
“Well, I have a client who has a nanny named Sophie. Sophie’s sister went missing a few months ago and no one has heard from her since. The sister’s name is Allana. Allana has an eight-month-old daughter that is now staying with their mother. She’s run off before but not for this long without contacting them and not since she had the baby,” he says.
“They went to the police?” I ask.
“Yeah and filed a missing person’s report but Allana has gotten into some trouble over the years-,” he says.
“Drugs and soliciting. But once she found out she was pregnant she did a one-eighty. Got a job, cleaned herself up. Mrs. Milton said she saw Allana a few times once before the baby and then a few times after. She said there was a drastic difference. It was almost like it wasn’t the same person,” he says.
“What did the police say?”
“She probably-” he starts.
“Let me guess. Fell back in with the old crowd and now she’s somewhere getting high with her pimp?” I ask.
“Wow. Something along those lines, yes. And they said because she had a history of running away the pressure of being a mother was probably too much for her and she knew the family would take care of the kid so she escaped,” he says.
“This seems like it would be good for someone with more experience,” I say.
“They just want to know what happened to her. If she’s alive or not. I see her tomorrow can I give her your card so she can call you?” he asks.
“Sure. Just to talk,” I say.
“Okay,” he says.
“Mrs. Milton seems really nice.”
“She is. Sophie’s been working for her for the past ten years. She considers her family and she thinks not knowing is really bothering her,” he says.
“Okay, so we’ll talk and see what happens,” I say.
“Thanks,” he says.
“So how’s being a trainer going?”
“Pretty good. Mostly rich ladies working out trying to look better than their friends. But the pay is good even with their stories,” he says.
“Well, that’s good,” I say.
“How’s work for you?” he asks.
“It’s fine. Taking a week off,” I say.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Just need a break.”
“From dancing?” he asks.
“Yeah… from dancing,” I remark.
I almost forgot he still thinks I’m just a stripper. I told my friends I was a dancer because it seemed easier than explaining what I really like doing for a living.
We talk for a little while longer and then in the comfortable silence, my eyes get heavy. When I wake up, a crimson blanket is covering me and the light over the stove is turned on so it’s not pitch black. Jason is gone. The clock over the TV says it’s after midnight. I turn the TV back on and search for something to watch until I doze off again.
My uncertainty about the case Jason wants me to investigate rolls around in my mind. The last case I had was supposed to be a stalking case that turned into murder. What if this starts out as a missing person but turns into something worse? What if she is alive and somewhere living with her pimp and I get caught up in that? Sometimes people run away because they can’t take their lives anymore and need a clean start. Maybe running away was the only way she could get one.
The darkness consumes me. Wrapping around me like two big strong arms holding me in place. His arms. He is the darkness with bright emeralds staring back at me. When he backs away, a slither of light comes through. I run from the light back into his arms. I want the darkness. I want him. I feel this need when I’m close to him.
The shadow grabs my arms and throws me to the ground before backing away. I try to crawl towards him but he lets out a screech so loud it knocks me back. He continues to leave me. Letting the light in.
The light bathes me but instead of being warm and welcoming it leaves me cold and lonely. So cold, I’m freezing when I wake up.
My sofa is not made for sleeping. I realize that when I try to stand. My poor back makes noises it wouldn’t have if I would have gotten my butt up and gone to bed. It’s after ten and I already have a missed call from Mrs. Milton. She left a voicemail saying she would be home all day and to stop by if I can, so we could talk.
After writing down her address I take a nice hot bath, get dressed and grab an apple on my way out the door. I make sure to pack my notepad just in case she says something interesting.
Her home isn’t that far from me although it’s much bigger than I imagined. I had seen this gravel road before but where it leads is slightly obscured by shrubbery. I press the buzzer on the gate. A voice with a European accent comes over the intercom.
“Milton residence, how can I help you?” she says.
“I’m Beth Anderson for Mrs. Milton.”
There is a clicking noise and the gate opens. The drive up to the door is a long one. Grass so green and lush cradle the circular driveway. I park and walk up to the door which opens before I can knock on it.
“Follow me,” says a short plump woman who never introduces herself.
She leads me into what I assume is the parlor and tells me to take a seat. When she leaves I look around. I figured she was rich but not mansion and servants rich.
“Miss Anderson,” says a tall woman with sandy blonde hair walking through the doorway.
I know her. From the club. She was there with another woman and I think she was the dominant one and almost naked. The night I saw her she was wearing a black corset with her breast out and a leather thong. I remember thinking how toned her body was.
“Miss Milton,” I say holding out my hand.
She takes it lightly, “You’re a PI?”
I guess she saw me that night too.
“Yes, I just got my license a few months back,” I say.
“Honey,” says a man’s voice walking into the room, “Oh hello.”
“Dear, this is Beth Anderson. She’s the PI I was telling you about earlier,” says Mrs. Milton.
“Oh, nice to meet you,” he says.
“You too,” I say.
“Off to work?” asks Mrs. Milton.
“A few hours in the office,” he says kissing her on the cheek, “Nice to meet you Miss Anderson.”
He leaves the room and we stand there in silence.
“No one knows about my other job not even Jason. So your secret is safe with me. I promise,” I say.
“Thank you,” she says with eyes full of relief.
“So let’s talk about the case,” I say sitting back down.
“Yes, let’s. Are you the same Beth Anderson that discovered the sex trafficking ring?” she asks.
“Yes, that was my first case,” I reply.
I note her surprise and continue, “It was only supposed to be a stalking case but turned into so much more. Hopefully, that won’t be the case here,” I say.
“One can hope. Well, Sophie went to the store. She’ll be back any minute,” she says.
“Okay, can you tell me what you know about her sister or the case?” I ask.
“I met Allana only a few times. At first, she was on drugs. She looked very- I don’t know how to describe it. Just bad. She looked very bad. Rough. I saw her again after she had the baby and she looked like a completely different person. She was clean and put together. She seemed happier and that time she even talked to me a little. She seems like a nice girl that was trying to get her life back on track for her baby. Can’t imagine she would just up and leave her like that.”
“Mrs. Milton?” says a voice moving steadily down the hall.
“Sophie, this is the PI I was telling you about. Beth this is Sophie. Now, I’m going to let you talk in private,” she says giving Sophie her seat.
Sophie isn’t what I pictured. In my mind, I had pictured her as the older sister trying to look out for her baby sister. But I guess it was the other way around. Sophie looks like she is in her early twenties with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She has an air of innocence about her but with all, she has seen due to her sister that is surely an illusion.
“Nice to meet you Sophie,” I say holding out my hand.
She takes it firmly and responds with a smile. “Are you going to look for Allana?” she asks.
“Well, right now we are just going to talk so I can get a better understanding of what you want,” I say.
“Okay,” she says leaning back in her chair.
“So, how old are you?” I ask.
“Twenty-nine,” she answers.
“But you look so young.”
“Yeah, everyone says that,” she says.
“And Allana is your older sister?”
“Yeah by two years,” she answers.
“Okay, so when did you notice she was missing?”
“She had been doing really good since she had gotten pregnant and all. But one night she asked our mother to watch Nicole while she went out. And momma don’t work anymore so she doesn’t really have anywhere to go most days. I went over there two days later to check up on her and she said Lana still hadn’t come back for the baby. She had tried calling her but never got an answer. Mrs. Milton told me I should go the police but they looked up her police record and just kinda pushed her aside,” she says.
“How’s Nicole doing?” I ask.
“She’s just a baby. I think she knows something’s not right and misses her but she doesn’t understand what’s going on,” she says.
“Was she different the days before she disappeared?” I ask.
“Happier I guess. She’s been smiling a lot more lately. Momma figured she might have met someone but wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet on the count of her long list of bad relationships,” she says.
“What about Nicole’s father, where is he?” I ask.
“Some married guy she met a while back when she was a whore. I’m not sure if he even knows about the baby. And she never gave a name so we don’t know who he is,” she explains.
“What do you want me to find?” I ask.
“Honestly, she has run out on us so many times I’m not sure. Momma wants to know if she’s okay, whether she comes back for Nicole or no. She loves that baby. She always said her baby girl is the best thing that ever happened to her. She would move heaven and earth for her and was trying to build them a better life. I really don’t think she would just leave her with no word on where she was going. And if she didn’t leave on her own then someone took her,” she says.
“So, you just want to know what happened either way. You want to know if she just ran away or if someone hurt her?” I ask.
“Yeah. We just want to know,” she says.
“Okay,” I reply.
“Is that it? I need to get back to work,” she asks.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
She gets up and walks out of the room quickly. Poor Nicole. When she grows up she is going to want to know about her mother and they should have an answer for her. Minutes later Mrs. Milton walks back in the room.
“Well, Mrs. Milton-” I start.
“Call me Brittany. Please,” she says.
“Um-Brittany, I’m going to take the case,” I say.
“Oh good. They need closure. And that poor baby,” she says.
“Um I’m going to need half up front and I will bill you for any expenses,” I say.
“Okay, let me write you a check,” she says leaving the room.
After figuring out my rate quickly in my head she writes me a check for half and we proceed to talk about the police and how they treated Allana’s case.
“I should get going, Brittany,” I say standing up.
“Oh okay,” she says.
“I have to make a stop to the police station and see if I can get the missing person report. Ask them what they found, if anything,” I explain.
“Good luck,” she says.
“Thanks. I will call you at the end of the week to check in,” I say.
In my car, I now feel a heaviness I didn’t feel before. I can already tell this case is going to be so difficult.
The police station is emptier than I thought it would be so late in the afternoon. I go up to the front desk and ask for Detective Reiner. The desk Sergeant presses a number on her phone says a few words and then hangs up. Seconds later Reiner appears at the top of the stairs. Tall, broad shoulders, tan skin, and a nice beard. Just looking at him and something deep inside tightens.
“Come on up,” he says with a smile.
We go into his new office and he closes the door. I sit in one of the two chairs opposite his desk. He sits in the other one right next to me. So close I can smell him.
“I-,” I start.
“Red, how are you?” he interrupts.
“Good. You?” I ask staring at the floor.
“Better now,” he says tilting my chin up so I can look him in the eyes. Big beautiful emeralds.
The last time we were this close to one another was when he was telling me he didn’t want to be my only dominant. Even now in the silence of his office, I can still hear his words to me and how he tried to explain his reason.
“Did you come to see me or need help with a case?” he asks.
“A case,” I say.
“Okay,” he says.
I can’t help but detect a little hurt in his eyes as he gets up to sit behind his desk.
“What case?” he says opening up his computer.
“It is nice to see you, though,” I say trying to comfort him.
He takes one long look at me and smiles.
“Allana Bale. She should have a missing person file on her,” I say.
While he searches through the database I take the time to look at his new office. I can’t tell if he just moved in or if he’s moving out. There are a few boxes here and there. Not so many that they clutter the floor, though. There’s a box with files in it on top of a file cabinet. His desk has very few items on it and his bookcase is missing some books. Maybe he just got the office and hasn’t put everything up yet. But it’s not my business.
“Found it,” he says.
He spins the screen around so I can read it. It has the date she went missing which I write down in my notes along with her birthday, address and where she works. I also make a note of the Detective on the case.
“There is a note here that says she has a criminal record and has run away many times before,” he says.
“That doesn’t make her any less missing,” I reply.
“True but it does create a pattern of behavior and is probably the reason the Detective didn’t take the case too seriously,” he tries to explain.
“So, some ex-prostitute goes missing and it’s just another piece of paper to file? No big deal?” I ask.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says.
“She has a family and a daughter waiting for her to come home. No matter what pattern she had she deserved to be taken seriously. Someone should have put some effort in,” I say.
“People like her-,” says Reiner.
“You mean, someone who has sex with someone else for money?” I ask.
“Exa-,” he starts.
“You mean like me?”
“Beth-,” he says.
“I just needed to see the file. Thank you,” I say getting up.
“Sit down!” he yells.
His voice so loud passing detectives stop. I can see them stretching their necks trying to peer between the blinds into the office. He stands up so abruptly his chair falls to the ground.
“You get your ass back in that seat Beth and let’s talk about this,” he says.
“Or what? You don’t own me!” I walk slowly to his desk and drop my voice to a whisper so only he can hear. “You paid for a weekend with me that is it. You are not my dominant nor my boyfriend I am not yours to command whenever the fuck you feel like it so this- this yelling at me, ordering me around thing that you are trying to do here, will not happen again. If you are not fucking me or paying me to submit to you, you talk to me like a normal person. Thank you for the files, have a nice day.”
I grab my notepad and my purse before making my exit. As I leave he says nothing but from the corner of my eye I see him slump down in his chair. It’s only when I get in my car that I notice I was holding my breath the whole way. My heart is beating so fast like it’s about burst out of my chest. I can’t remember ever talking to anyone like that. He just made me so mad. Like sex workers shouldn’t be taken seriously because of what they do. I do the same thing. Does he take me seriously?
After my talk with Reiner, I decided to blow off some steam at the club. So I called Mistress Black and told her I wanted to come by later on tonight. I stop by my condo to take a shower and grab something to eat. I change into a white lace see-through top, no bra and a white tight skirt with a split up the side almost to my waist. I throw on a black coat that goes down to my knees so my neighbors won’t see.
When I get there the parking lot is almost full. I hand my keys to the valet and make my way inside. Stopping by Mistress Black’s office first I am surprised to see she is actually in there. I take off my jacket and set it on the table by the door.
“Very nice Red,” she says.
“Well thank you,” I say taking a seat in front of her desk.
“I talked to some of your old clients who can’t wait for you to come back,” she says smiling.
“Really?” I ask.
“Of course dear they miss you,” she says.
“How would I do it here?” I ask.
“Well, you would have a room like the other club only more toys and access to other playrooms and things like that,” she explains.
“Oh okay,” I say.
“Is that something you want to try?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Oh, good girl. Well here is the key to your new room. The room is the last room down the red hallway,” she says.
“I wondered what was down there,” I say taking the black old looking key. It would be hard to make a copy.
“Most of those are rooms that the girls use. But for now, go have fun and enjoy your night. Call me tomorrow and let me know when you want to start back up,” she says.
“Okay, thanks,” I say before grabbing my things and leaving.
I take my coat and my purse and head to my room. I can’t wait to see it. It’s like my old one. The walls are gray and the furniture is pushed back up against the walls. Like she knew I was going to come back. I stuff my purse inside the locker at the back of the room and lay my jacket over it.
When I turn around he’s there staring at me. I’m starting to think Reiner implanted a tracking chip inside me somewhere.
He throws his credit card down on the table next to me.
“You’re such a-” I start.
He grabs my hair and yanks my head back while forcing me against the wall. He presses his entire body into me. I feel every muscle in his body grind against my own. I put my hands on his chest.
He backs away instantly.
“I made you mad so now you want to come here and punish me. No. We are not doing this. I am not doing this with you. If you are angry you need to take it out on someone else,” I say. I grab my things and go home.
It’s two in the morning when I hear a buzz by my door. I answer the phone and its Reiner asking to come up. Against my better judgment, I give him the codes to get in.
“What do you want?” I ask closing the door behind him.
“I wasn’t angry. I wanted you. I wanted to feel you. I can’t remember the last time someone talked to me like that,” he says.
“Everyone just gives you what you want?” I ask.
“Depends on my tone,” he says moving towards me. With every step, he takes forward I step back getting closer to the wall. Before I know it his breath is on my face and my back is pressing into the wall by the door.
“You pissed me off,” I say.
“Yeah, Red I guessed that. You turned me on,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“If we hadn’t been in a building full of police officers and I had a gag for you, I would have pinned you to my desk and-”
“I wouldn’t let you do that,” I interject.
“Why not?” he asks moving in.
“I just wouldn’t,” I say.
“Why?” he asks.
I can feel his hand on the top part of my thigh. Why aren’t I wearing any underwear?
“Reiner-,” I start.
His hand moves closer.
“Yes, Red?” he asks.
Until I feel it right between my legs. They part a little on their own.
“What do you want Red?” he asks.
He slides two of his fingers inside me while his thumb rolls my clit so softly. The lightest moan escapes my lips and I lean my forehead on his chest. He lets me lay there for a second breathing him in before he presses me back against the wall. His eyes so dark and hooded when he moves his hand deeper into me. Just on instinct, my body starts to grind against his hand. And he lets me. He doesn’t tell me not to be greedy or smacks me on the thigh telling me to stop.
“What do you want Red?” he asks.
I close my eyes as the world falls away and then he stops.
“No, please,” I plead.
“What’s wrong?” He asks caressing my face with his free hand.
“Please don’t stop now. Please let me- he never-”
“Never?” he asks.
All I can do is shake my head and he starts up again. My only dominant Richard never lets me have an orgasm. Our relationship was mostly about him and his needs.
This time, his hand is rougher. With his free hand, he takes one leg and throws it around his waist. I can feel something building. The closer it gets, the louder I moan and the louder I moan the deeper he takes his hand until my body starts shaking and my leg tightens around him. He lays his head against my neck until the shakes subside and I can put my foot back on the ground. The air prickles my now sweaty skin causing goose bumps down my arms.
“Come on,” he says taking my hand and leading me to the living room.
He pulls my nightgown off and then lays down on the sofa. Taking one of my legs he throws it over him so I’m sitting on his face. I feel his tongue slide so easily into to me and I scream. He puts his hands on my hips to firmly hold me in place.
And that is how we spend our night. Him shattering the world around me in a variety of different ways. When I wake up I’m lying on the floor in my bedroom. He’s gone and I have work to do.
I take a nice hot bath before getting dressed and making some breakfast. I call Sophie and ask about Allana’s things. They couldn’t pay her mortgage and theirs so they packed up her stuff and put it in their mother’s garage. The boxes have been sitting in the garage since then. I tell her to meet me there so I can talk to both her and her mother at the same time. After breakfast, I do a little cleaning in the kitchen and create a file for Allana’s case. When I type up my notes along with a list of who I talked to and when, I’ll add them to the file. This is just so I can keep track and in case there is foul play here I have everything together to hand over to the police. After I make some copies of course.
Mrs. Bale lives in what looks like a nice neighborhood. Lawns uniformly cut, kids playing outside, neighbors talking on the porch or in the front yard. Cozy. I ring the doorbell and a little old lady opens it.
“Hello, Mrs. Bale?” I ask.
“Yes, who’s asking?” she asks.
“I’m Beth Anderson-,” I start.
“The private investigator?” she asks.
“Correct,” I say.
The inside is just as clean and put together as the outside. It smells of bleach and some kind of fruity fragrance.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say walking in.
“Thank you. Take a seat. Sophie’s on her way over,” she says.
I sit on the love seat by the door while she sits in her rocking chair in front of the TV. I take my notepad and pen out of my purse.
“Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
“Can you tell me about Allana?” I ask.
“Um like what?” she asks.
“Anything you want me to know.”
“She was a good girl when she was younger. Sweet. Kind. Loved being outside. Always climbing a tree or jumping in a lake,” she says.
“Where did you live?” I ask.
“Georgia. Born and raised there. But Allana got a boyfriend who moved up here and then Sophie followed to go to school. I came when I retired to be closer to them. Didn’t do any good, though,” she says.
“Why do you say that?”
“Me being here didn’t help any. I thought once we were all close again we could get Lana to straighten up but that didn’t work,” she explains.
“Until she got pregnant?” I ask.
“Right. That baby helped her find herself. Before that it was one wrong man after another and plenty of drugs,” she says.
“Do you know anything about the father?” I ask.
“He’s married,” she says.
“How do you know that?” I ask.
“Because Lana never could find a man that wasn’t,” she explains.
“What about the day she disappeared?” I ask.
“She came by looking all fancy to drop the baby off. Said she had somewhere to go that night but she would pick her up on her way home,” she says.
“Did you ask where she was going?” I ask.
“No. But she looked like she was going on a date. I remember her wearing a black dress with a red rose pin in her hair,” she says.
“Did she do that often? Wear flowers in her hair?” I ask.
“Not that I know of. I had never seen it before,” she says.
“Okay. And she never came back?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“And how long did you guys wait to go to the police?” I ask.
“A week,” she says.
“Why so long?” I ask.
“Well, she had run away before. So I just thought she had done it again. Met a man that night and went on another bender. And Sophie said we should wait because she had done it before and would probably be back soon,” she explains.
“Even though she was doing so good?” I ask.
“Have you ever known an addict?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I say,
“Some not all but some, when everything is going well that’s when they do something to fuck it up. Self-sabotage. They figure it’s all going to go to hell anyway. I’m going to do something to ruin all this eventually might as well go ahead and get it over with,” she says.
“And you thought that’s what she did? So why do you think there is something wrong now?” I ask.
“She’s never been gone this long before. Before she would find some way to call even if it was just to ask for money-,” she starts.
“But nothing now?” I ask.
“Not one word. And I truly think she would have called at least to check up on the baby,” she says.
“Okay,” I say.
“Do you have children?” she asks.
“No, not yet anyway,” I say.
“I can feel it. Deep in my bones that somethings not right. She may be dead in a ditch from an overdose or maybe someone hurt her but something’s just not right and I need to know. If she’s gone I need to see her. So I can lay my baby to rest,” she says.
Just then the door opens and Sophie walks in.
“Hi,” she says waving at me.
“I wanted to tell you guys that I went to the police and they really haven’t investigated her case because of her past. They think she just ran away or something,” I explain.
“Yeah, I figured that,” says Sophie sitting in a chair next to her mother.
“Did they search her stuff at all?” ask Mrs. Bale.
“Not really. They did go to her house and poke around but they didn’t take anything with them. There was no sign of a struggle, so one of them said it looked like where ever she went it was willingly,” I say.
“And you still have everything?” I ask.
“Yeah, come on,” says Sophie.
Sophie takes me into the garage which is just off the kitchen. There are more than ten boxes stacked in a corner.
“These are her things. We had more boxes but they were filled with Nicole’s stuff. We unpacked them some time ago. Trying to make her room seem more like home,” she says.
“That was sweet. What about her cell phone?” I ask.
“Didn’t find it when I packed her stuff,” she says.
“Laptop?” I ask.
“Um- Yeah I think it’s in there,” she says.
“Okay, can I look through them?” I ask.
“Sure, whatever you need,” she says.
She brings me a chair and sits it under the work table next to the boxes. The first five are filled with her clothes. New Allana had good taste but some of the pieces seemed a bit expensive. She has Dior dresses, red bottoms, and a Cartier watch. I make a note about the expensive items and I take pictures of them with my phone so later I can look up about how much they cost. I find her laptop and put it to the side so I can take it with me, along with her date book and some spiral notebooks. The rest just contain items that don’t seem to have any informational value. But I take inventory anyway and write them down in my notebook. The boxes I have already gone through I stack on each other and move away from the ones I have yet to get to.
“Okay, well I’m going to take these things and look through them at home,” I say walking back into the living room while wrapping the power cord around the laptop.
“Okay,” says Sophie.
“I’ll let you know if I find anything and I’ll give you updates once a week unless something big happens.”
“Okay, thank you so much,” says Mrs. Bale.
I leave and make my way back home. I can’t imagine a mother just abandoning her daughter even if she was a recovering drug addict. Something just doesn’t feel right. If she went with someone willingly then why hadn’t she come back yet or tried to reach her family?
I place the laptop on the kitchen table, along with the notebooks and her date planner. After changing into some comfortable sweats, a tank top and pulling my hair into a bun. I am ready to do some research. It’s too late for coffee so Sprite will have to do. I open the laptop and press the ON button. It takes a minute but the desktop comes up. Not password protected thank God. I click through her documents and pictures. Nothing out of the ordinary. It is mostly just pictures of her and her daughter. A few of her mother and sister.
The Internet history of any computer can tell you a lot about its owner. Hers says: she likes to shop, recipes, social media, and gossip blogs. Not unusual for someone her age. I scan through the list and find something no one had mentioned before when I talked to them. A dating website. She was a member of the Looking for Love dating site. From her history, she recently started checking the site every day.
I pull up the site and her login information fills out automatically. There are five new messages that she hasn’t answered yet and a wink. I don’t touch the new messages. I figure if one of these guys kidnapped her they wouldn’t be emailing her today asking to meet. So I check her old messages. All two hundred of them. Lucky me, most of them are from the same person. Danny39. He is one of the six guys she talks to.
Upon comparing the old messages and the new ones Danny is the only one who hadn’t emailed her since she has gone missing. Hmm, I say to myself. I click on his profile. It is missing information. No profile picture or any real details about himself. Just his username, date of birth, non-smoker and he is employed. If I had a dating profile and someone with this type of profile tried to contact me I would ignore them. He’s obviously hiding something. Maybe married.
I write down his profile information in my notepad before reading through their messages. She must have been lonely or vulnerable because she shared so much of herself with someone she didn’t know. What is missing from his side of the conversation are details about him. She is telling him about her daughter, her sister and her mother, and her job. While he keeps saying he wants to know more about her. He told her he works in management at a financial company, but never gave the name. Whenever she asked him questions he always steered the conversation back to her. The last message between them is an exchange of phone numbers. If only I had her phone. I wonder where it is.
It’s possible that she has it but then why wouldn’t she call her family to at least let them know she is okay? I think the kidnapper has it. Maybe there was incriminating evidence on it and he thought it was better to keep it. So now that I can’t read her text messages what am I going to do?
Pushing her laptop aside I grab one of the notebooks. A journal. I look through the other two and they are the same. The first one has a cover page that reads “Recovery Journal.” I guess Allana was supposed to keep track of her feelings as she went through recovery. If I have a better understanding of Allana than maybe I can figure out what happened to her.
She never felt loved as a child. Being the middle child was hard on her. Sophie is the baby but they had an older brother. Her father loved her older brother and her mother doted on her baby sister so that left her on her own. She always felt overlooked. Like she was competing for attention. Any attention good or bad. Her father Raymond beat her mother often. Not so much in front of them but they heard it and saw the aftermath. Nothing she ever did was good enough for her father.
Allana felt like he never cared about her or wanted her around especially after her brother died in a car accident. And when her mother finally left her father she started seeking the male attention she never got as a child. She went from bad relationship to bad relationship trying to seek the approval of men who didn’t deserve her. Then while a senior in high school she met a boy that got her hooked on drugs. Weed at first then he wanted to try cocaine and then heroin. She wanted to make him happy because she wanted him to love her. So when he suggested they try something new she did it without question. And the first time he brought his friend over to have sex with her she did that without question too. That is how she became a drug addicted prostitute.
After an hour I am only half way into the first journal and I need a break. Her life was horrible all because she was seeking something she never got as a child. It’s bad, but I understand it. My father beat my mother but when she left him she left us with him. He was a horrible father that left me seeking stability and she never wanted to be a mother again which left me seeking love. He was strict which made be obedient. I guess that’s why I’m so good at my job.