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From: carnagejackson@hotmail.com (Carnage Jackson)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 3 Jun 2003 12:53:57 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Hollywood After Dark - Chap. 8a (MF, MMMF, cons, oral, MC, reluc, drugs, cuck, celeb) - 1/2
Date: Tue,  3 Jun 2003 17:10:06 -0400
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Without a doubt, this chapter is probably the darkest piece I have
ever written, in both theme and what transpires. It may be rough to
those of you used to some of my other works but just bear with
it...the ride will be worth it. Please send me feedback on this
chapter and all chapters of the series. Without your feedback, I have
no clue as to whether or not I'm pleasing my readers. Thanks, and
enjoy the chapter.


Hollywood After Dark: Chapter 8

By Carnage Jackson 

carnagejackson@hotmail.com
_____________________________________________________ 

Standard Disclaimer: 

You must be 18 to read this story, be able to read erotica in your
community, not be offended by the contents of it...blah blah, you know
the rest. 

This story may be distributed freely, for commercial or non-commercial
use, but PLEASE leave my email/name on it! That's all I ask! 

This work is complete fiction, all made up in my head. 
Yes I know the celebs don't act like this in real life, 
but this is a fantasy after all.

This is Part 8 of an ongoing series. 
_____________________________________________________


Whoever is unjust let him be unjust to
Whoever is righteous let him be righteous still
Whoever is filthy let him be filthy still
Listen to the words long written down
When the Man comes around
- Johnny Cash




RACHAEL'S STORY:

	Despite Alex's best advice, I couldn't really sleep that night. I
felt somewhat comforted by the fact that he was coming back - to the
US at least - immediately, but even with him on American soil I still
felt troubled by the whole thing. My paranoia had gone down somewhat
since that first night, but now whenever I thought about what all this
meant, I still felt a surge of fear rush through me.

	After tossing and turning for a few more hours, I got up around 10
and began my usual morning routine, hoping it would help me get
prepared for the day ahead. I really didn't look forward to going to
see Gordon Hapsboro in the flesh, but as Alex had said, it was very
important that it get done. I changed into a t-shirt and some gym
shorts and then went down to the workout room in my house. Doing a few
light cardio exercises and a couple of weighted leg lifts, I returned
upstairs and took a shower. I was going to fix myself something to
eat, but as the growing apprehension began to creep into my psyche
more and more, and my stomach began to turn knots a bit, I decided
food would not be the best thing for me.

	Ok Rachael, just do this thing, I thought to myself. 

	Making myself comfortable, I took out my address book of names of
stars and started going through alphabetically. The first number was
Katherine Heigl's.

	Picking up the phone, I listened to the dial-tone for a long moment
before taking a deep breath and dialing the number. With each
successive ring, I found myself growing more and more nervous, my
heart thudding in my chest. It was true. After 10 rings or so and no
one answering, I put the receiver down and with a trembling hand,
paged over to Mila Kunis' number.

	Again, no one was there. That made sense, since both of them had left
together - if something was up, they were both in trouble. But what
about Jamie Pressly? She was there that night too and after the fight
that ensued between her and Alex, I still couldn't quite get over the
idea that she might be involved as well. There was just something
about the way that she was acting that stuck out in my mind.

	I debated about calling her home to see if she was there, but then I
realized that if she WAS involved, she could easily trace me back to
my house (I didn't give my number to many people). Realizing this, I
instead decided I would do the next best thing: scope her house out in
person.

	Grabbing my keys, I was on the highway in no time towards her small
mansion on the outset of LA. As I exited and made my way down her
street, I saw a car pull out quickly from what appeared to be her
house. Someone was there! Keeping my distance, I waited for a few
seconds before slowly starting to follow the green Porsche, its top
down and two heads clearly visible.

	I let one car get between us but then began to follow the car at a
normal rate. At a stoplight, I rolled down my window and looked out. I
could definetely make out a blonde head of hair behind the driver's
wheel. The light changed and I quickly ducked back in the car - it was
her alright, but where was she going?

	Heading for the freeway, I decided to follow her. I felt nervous and
excited at the same time, wondering what she was up to and why she
hadn't been kidnapped or worse like Charlie and Katherine and Mila.
Perhaps she really WAS in on it.

	I put three car lengths between us as she cruised down the
interstate, going at a pretty steady clip for a few miles. When she
put her turn signal on, I resisted the immediate urge to do the same,
waiting for a few seconds before following her lead and getting off
the freeway.

	We were in a residential neighborhood almost immediately of
apartment's and small homes. The houses were actually fairly nice (by
LA standards any way) and Jamie's car did not look TOO out of place as
it crusied the quiet streets. Keeping my distance, I watched as her
car pulled to the curb and stopped in front of a complex. I hit my
breaks and held my breath, waiting. I was thankful that the slight
curve in the road hid me from plain sight.

	From that distance, I saw Jamie get out of the car, followed by her
passenger (another blonde) as they walked towards the complex. They
were fairly close to each other and were obviously saying something
given the way that their bodies were moving, but I couldn't even hope
to make it out. When they vanished behind a gate leading to the
complex, and thus out of sight, I inched my car forward a bit and
stopped at the curb as well, about 100 feet from where they had
parked.

	Getting out of the car slowly, careful not to slam the door, I took a
few cautious steps towards where I had seen them enter. This
neighborhood looked familiar to me, and yet I couldn't place why.
Glancing up at the sky, I noticed that it looked dark and forboding.
The clouds were an ugly, bruised gray and it looked like they could
break at any time. A strong wind had also picked up, which was
especially unusual for a California day like today.

	As I drew closer, I suddenly remembered that this was Katherine's
neighborhood! Yes, there is the odd shaped bushes she had told me
about once at a party...and over there was the sound of the noisy dog
she had complained about at great length. Even though I had never been
there, it fit her description perfectly. A thought struck me then, as
to why Jamie was in Katherine's neighborhood - perhaps she really WAS
involved in this thing, for what other reason would she have to go to
her house in the middle of the day? My heart thudded in my chest as I
approached the gate to Katherine's complex. Peaking my head around the
fence post, I could just make out Jamie and another blonde standing
there, knocking on the door of what I presume had to be Katherine's
apartment.

	But then, if she was involved, why would she be knocking? I puzzled
over this for a moment, but unfortunately it was a moment too long.
Jamie's companion happened to look my direction and her eyes found me
immediately. She raised her hand and pointed at me and now Jamie
looked too. I froze with fear as they both began to run down the
stairs and towards me. My mind panicked as I tried to think of what to
do. I had been seen, but would running do any good? It certainly would
look silly if they were just trying to help like I was...but then
again, NOT running could be a dangerous mistake.

	After a moment's pause, in which both women drew much closer to me
than I would have liked, my legs finally began to work again and I
bolted, running as fast as I could towards my car, which now seemed
like it was miles away. The strong wind howling in my ears and my hair
blowing wildly around my face, I heard the gate open with a crash and
knew that they were right behind me almost now. Though all this seemed
to happen in slow motion, it really only took a couple of seconds for
me to reach my car. As I came to a thudding stop, pushing myself
against it, the force of the impact made my keys fall from my hand and
skid underneath my car.

	Shit! I thought to myself as I dropped down on my knees quickly and
tried to pull them out as fast as I could. I struggled to reach them
with my arm, finally resorting to putting my head under there and
snatching them up, but it was too late. When I rose to my feet, Jamie
and her companion, who I could now see was a very sweaty and out of
breath Sarah Michelle Gellar were mere feet from me.

	I managed to get my key in the door before I suddenly felt Jamie's
surprisingly strong arm on my shoulder, spinning me around painfully
as she pushed me against the door of the car.

	"What the fuck are you doing here Rachael?" she said, her face red
from running. Sarah lingered behind her, grasping her side from the
sudden burst of energy she had to use.

	"I should ask you the same thing, shouldn't I Jamie? I went to your
house to try and find you but when you were pulling out of your
driveway, I decided to follow you. When you showed up here, I knew
something was up,"

	Jamie let go of my shoulder and groaned, spinning on her feet as she
rolled her neck from side to side, an exasperatted look on her face.

	"Jesus Rachael...don't scare me like that. I came here looking for
Katherine because I was hoping that she would be alright,"

	A conveinent answer, I thought to myself. I still wasn't certain.

	"Why would Katherine not be alright?" I said, trying to play dumb.

	Jamie stared at me for a second, but she wasn't buying my coyness.
"Because of what happened, which I know you know all about. We all
left Charlie's and the next thing I know, Gordon Hapsboro shows up at
my door the next morning, reciting almost the entire conversation of
the office. After he left, I knew I had to try and get in touch with
everyone who was there. Katherine was just first on the list,"

	"Don't bother with the rest of them," I said bitterly. "I couldn't
reach Mila and obviously Katherine isn't here. I talked to Alex last
night too and he said -- "

	"Wait, you talked to Alex? When?"

	"Last night. I freaked out because when I was leaving the office I
heard a gun shot and knew that some real trouble was going down. I
drove home as fast as I could and locked myself in. It was yesterday
that I finally got the courage to call Alex. He thinks Charlie is
dead,"

	Jamie looked off wistfully towards the end of the street. "Yeah, I
think so too,"

	"And now I am on my way to go see Hapsboro, at the request of Alex,"
I replied. This caught Jamie off guard as she jerked her head back to
look at me, her eyes going wide.

	"What? Why?"

	"Alex thinks we need to find out as much as we can about what
Hapsboro knows. And I guess I am the lucky girl who gets to do that,"

	Jamie's eyes narrowed. "Figures. He's off living it up in Japan and
he sends the women to do the dangerous work. Are you sure you can
trust him?"

	I was miffed by this question, so I fired one equally as nasty back
at her.

	"How do I know I can even trust you? I'm still not sure you are
totally ignorant about what happened after the office meeting,"

	"Who else do you have to trust Rachael? I mean, it looks like it's
just you and I here, and we both are after the same thing,"

	"I'm not sure that we are Jamie. What is Sarah Gellar doing here any
ways?"

	Jamie turned her head and looked at Sarah. "She was at my place when
Hapsboro showed up. I couldn't not tell her what was going on, so she
came along for the ride,"

	I looked at Sarah for a moment, then back at Jamie. "You can trust
her?"

	Sarah scoffed at this and spoke to me for the first time. "Yes, she
can trust me. I don't know what the fuck kind of mess you two have
gotten yourself into, but I'm trying to stay as far away from it as
possible. Until yesterday, I thought a rose petal was just part of a
flower. I didn't know it was this whole big Hollywood conspiracy,"

	"Yeah, it's almost like some really badly written sexual fantasy or
something," Jamie said offhandedly. "But any ways, Rachael, I think
you can trust us. I think that, for now at least, I can trust you,"

	"That's nice to know Jamie, but we will see if when the pitch comes
across the plate, you are ready to swing," I replied. The whole thing
still left a bad taste in my mouth, but Jamie was right. In times of
crisis, allies were always good to have.

	"Oh don't worry, I'll be ready," she replied. There was an intense
pause between us, as I sensed that we were both holding back from
saying what we really wanted to. The pause lasted for around 30
seconds and I knew that this conversation was pretty much over.

	Without saying anything, I put my key in the door of the car and went
to open it when I felt Jamie's hand on my shoulder once again. I
turned my head to look at her.

	"Rachael," she said, a bit of hesistation in her voice. "Here, take
this,"

	Looking down at what she held, I saw a small pistol in her hand. I
gasped loudly at seeing the..the THING...in her hand, amazed that she
actually expected me to take such a thing.

	"I...I can't take that," I stammered at her.

	"You need it," she said, handing it to me. I felt it's cold surface
touch my hand. It felt heavier than I would have first thought, and
yet there was a strange sense of power in holding it. I glanced up at
Jamie.

	"I'm not saying you have to use it, but if the situation warrants
it..."

	I smiled at her for her consideration. Oddly enough, holding the gun
in my hand made me suddenly feel like it didn't matter if I trusted
her or not. The thought chilled me to the core. To even imagine taking
someone else's life was insane to me. But if it had to be done, it had
to be done. I put the gun in my purse and pushed the thought away.

	"Be careful Rachael," Jamie said, turning away from me. "And let me
know what you find out,"

	"I will Jamie, thanks," I said, my voice dry and raspy as it came out
of my throat. I suddenly thought of something and called out to her.

	"Hey Jamie, what are you going to do now?"

	She looked back at me and smiled a very cold and very determined
smile.

	"I have some business to settle,"




ALEX'S STORY:

	I left Jessica Alba sleeping soundly in the bed of her hotel, high
above the bustling metropolis of Tokyo. Part of me longed to just stay
in bed with her, to curl up and forget about what was going on in
America. But as I rose out of bed, the sheets falling over her nude
body with a delicate glide, I knew that people's lives depended on me
now. That wasn't something I could easily back down from.

	I dressed quickly and took the shuttle from the hotel to the airport.
The flight was relatively uneventful, especially compared to the one
from LA to Japan, and I used the time to try and rest. But because of
the time difference and the heavy, heavy weight of things on my mind,
sleep was impossible to come by. It was just as well, given that this
flight (because of my stop in Miami) was going to be a longer one.

	We flew through the clear blue sky for hours, passing slightly over
the Pacific Ocean before encountering the land masses of Asia and
Europe. My flight plan called for a stop in London's Heathrow airport,
which I was actually looking forward to: I had never travelled this
much in my entire life, and I never could have imagined being in the
British Isles, nor the circumstances that would bring me there. As we
touched down and I left the plane, I was glad to be back amongst
people of my own height and who spoke English as a first language (if
certainly a different VERSION of English).

	Making my way to the ticket counter, I didn't even have to speak to
the dumpy looking woman behind the desk, her hair frazzled and gray
around her shoulders to the point of almost consuming her face.
Instead, I merely looked up at the terminal screen and saw, with much
disappointment, that the flight was delayed.

	"Fucking terrorists," I heard someone behind me mutter, causing me to
turn and look at them, hoping to catch what they said.

	"I know. How bloody stupid do you have to be to run past all the damn
check points? Damn wanker, he screwed us all!" another man said.

	The terminal said that there would be a 3 hour delay in all flights,
but my intuition told me otherwise - that I would be stuck here for at
least 6 hours.

	Grudingly, I walked away from the desk and approached the gate where
my flight was supposed to take off, flopping down in one of the hard,
plastic chairs that was the source of discomfort for my fellow
travellers around me. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes and
listened to the soft voice of the overhead PA system, reading off
flights that had been delayed and flights that had been cancelled.

	I must have dozed off while waiting (my sleep patterns were really
screwed up now, I knew for certain), because the next thing I know,
when I opened my eyes I felt like time had really passed. Glancing at
my watch, I had been asleep for close to 45 minutes, though I wouldn't
really call it sleep since I felt just as tired and groggy as before.
Standing up and stretching my legs, I smacked my lips together, my
mouth dry and cottony from the doze.

	My bag in tow, I walked down the concourse looking for a place to buy
a drink. I passed by numerous stores and shops, but some how a Coke
didn't really appeal to me at the moment. Towards the end of the
concourse, I spotted a pub. My first inclination was to just keep
going, knowing that the drinks would be way over priced, but as the
thoughts of my future journey crept back into my mind, I decided that
drink might be in order.

	Walking into the small pub, its lighting dark and dim and just like I
would have envisioned a bar on London's bustling streets to be like, I
took a seat at the bar. The bartender noticed me, a tall balding man
with a heavy gut and a stained undershirt passing for his attire and
walked up to me.

	"What can I get ya?"

	"Just a beer please. Whatever the house recommends,"

	He nodded and went to the tap, pouring me a massive glass of some of
the darkest beer I had ever seen. I gave him a $10 bill and he brought
me back change (surprisingly in US dollars, which I guess wasn't
uncommon since it was an international airport). Setting the glass in
front of me, I pulled it to my lips and took a long, full sip.

	I immediately coughed - damn that was strong! and almost spit some of
it out on the counter top. A few other travellers behind me chuckled
to themselves as I grinned a bit sheepishly. I noticed a guy two seats
down looking at me with a puzzled grin on his face, shaking his head.

	"You Americans don't know what real beer is do you?" he said, smiling
at me. He was rather lanky, probably around my height but a little
shorter, with rather long dark brown hair and stubble on his chin and
cheeks.

	I shrugged, clearing my throat as I shook my head. "I guess not," 

	"Well mate, this is England. If you plan on doing much drinking while
you are here, you better get used to our beer,"

	"Thanks, but I'm only here for a few hours,"

	He continued to smile at me, a friendly smile. Standing up from his
seat, he moved over next to me on the vacant bar stool.

	"Same here. Well, not England but London I mean. The name is Rich,"
he said, extending his hand.

	"Alex, nice to meet you," I said, shaking it back.

	"So, what brings you to merry old England?"

	"I just have a layover from my flight from Japan. I'm headed back to
the States. Miami, more specifically,"

	"Ah, Japan. Great place. I've been there a couple of times, I loved
it. You have a good time while you were there?"

	I hesitated for a moment, not really sure why this stranger was
asking me all these questions.

	"Yeah, it was ok. I'll be glad to get back home though, this time
difference is killing me,"

	He laughed. "You get used to it in my line of work. I'm a free lance
writer,"

	"That must be exciting. I always wanted to be a writer,"

	"It has its ups and downs. What do you do?"

	Again I hesitated. "Well, right now I'm between jobs. I've been
having some...problems...with my former employers,"

	He nodded, sipping his beer. "Yeah, that's what I love about being
freelance. No boss to answer to. But hey, you seem like a good bloke.
I'm sure you'll land on your feet,"

	I ran my hands along the sweating glass of beer in front of me,
lifting it and taking a much smaller sip this time.

	"I hope so. Truthfully, I'm walking into a major hornet's nest when I
get back to the States. And even though I know I could avoid it,
something feels like it is compelling me to do it, to face the music,"

	"I've been there. You can't run from your problems forever. They just
become worse and the more you drag them out, the greater chance they
will become someone ELSE'S problems too. My advice is to just go in,
be strong and do what you have to do," Rich said, swallowing the last
gulp of his beer.

	"But what if your problems are already someone else's problems,"

	He looked at me over the edge of his glass, a knowing look in his
eye. "There's a girl involved I take it,"

	"Yeah, a few actually," I replied.

	He sighed at me as the bartender took his glass, filling it up
halfway.

	"Well then mate, I would say that you just have to do what is best
for you and them. I don't want to pry into your business too much, so
forgive me, but in the few months that I've been married and the
countless birds before her, I've learned that if you don't think of
the lady in your life when you act, that creates a whole new set of
problems. The key is to balance it out, handle things as best you can
and hopefully get through it. When you do, and you have her smiling
face waiting to greet you and take the load off your back, it will
make it all worth it,"

	"Thanks, that's pretty good advice,"

	He smirked at me. "Yeah, I guess so. But then again, I've been
drinking a bit and you know how writers get...we tend to be a bit long
winded and real vague when it comes to dialog,"

	I laughed, a laugh that felt surprisingly good given all the stress.
"Well then maybe I am a writer after all. My whole life feels vague
right now,"
	
	"I'm sure you will pull through Alex," he said, downing the rest of
his drink as he rose from the seat. "I've got a flight to catch. Nice
meeting you mate, and good luck with your problems, however vague they
may be,"

	I nodded and watched him go, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he
was consumed by the busy foot traffic outside the pub. Finishing my
drink a few minutes later, I glanced at my watch and noticed that
about two hours had now passed, which meant that with any luck, my
flight would be leaving soon.


	I was right. I boarded the plane and settled in, much more relaxed
now that I had some beer in me to calm my nerves and thankfully the
flight went smoothly and comfortably. Upon arriving back in the good
old US of A, I grabbed my one piece of luggage and stepped outside of
Miami's airport.

	Miami hit me like a crashing ocean wave. Temperature wise, it was
just as hot as Los Angeles in the summer, but the city still had a
very real and strong ocean breeze to it, one that caressed your body
for a moment before sending your hair fluttering in a million
different directions. I had heard that the humidity could kill you in
Florida, and Miami was no exception.

	Unlike my arrival in Japan, this time there was noone waiting for me
to take me to my destination. All around me, people milled back and
forth, many of them speaking in fluent Spanish, though a different
dialect even than the Hispanics in Los Angeles. I hailed a cab - a
pink, rusted looking thing with dirty windows and a magnetic sign on
the door and gave the driver my directions. It was clear that he
didn't speak much English, but as we set out I felt confident that he
at least knew the general area where I was going.

	Leaning back against the hot, sticky leather seat of the cab, I
thought to myself about how many different places I had seen while
travelling in the back of a cab. Los Angeles was hell in a cab, the
drivers often trying to make the freeway and its non-existant scenery
blur by as fast as possible, as if they were racing in some type of
video game scenario. Tokyo on the other hand, was much more smooth and
quiet, even though I think more people thronged the streets than
anywhere else I had seen. The drivers were friendly and spoke better
English sometimes than people I had known who knew it their whole
life.

	And what of Miami? Well, the city was certainly a spectacle to
behold. There were two forces at work, architecture wise, in the
layout of the city. There was the cold, modern design of high rise
office buildings juxtaposed against the lingering, aging art deco feel
of buildings bathed in pinks and blues and yellows. Palm trees swayed
in the gulf breeze, their fronds often growing taller and larger than
the street lights they neighbored next to.

	The beach weather also brought an unusual mix of people. From elderly
couples dressed in their tackiest tourist clothes to absolutely
gorgeous golden brown tanned senoritas walking by in the skimpiest of
bathing suits, Miami was a city in flux. Just as I was beginning to
enjoy the scenery though, I was startled to find that not only had the
driver located the general area, but he had pulled to the curb right
outside the condo I was looking for. Getting out and paying him
generously for such a prompt arrival, he lazily pulled back into
traffic before suddenly shooting off down the main drag, looking for
his next fare.

	I had arrived outside one of the more art deco of buildings, a huge
20 story condo with a massive palm tree painted onto the outside of
its face. A girl on rollerblades skated by me, the scent of her suntan
lotion and sweat making my nostrils tingle as I stepped inside of the
lobby.

	The floor beneath me felt gritty from sand and the lobby was hot -
very hot. I suddenly felt very over dressed in my slacks and long
sleeve shirt, and now noticed that a sizable sweat stain had formed on
my back. There was a group of teenage girls who couldn't be more than
14 (but looked 20) sitting on a dark green leather couch in the middle
of the room, chatting away on cell phones. As I passed them, it seemed
as if they were actually talking to each other, preferring to run up
their minutes rather than look at each other directly.

	Standing in front of the directory, its old black backing and graying
plastic letters listing out the tenants of the building, I reached
into my pocket and pulled out the name that Kyokota had carefully
written on the piece of paper, the sight of his penmanship bringing
back the long, long days previous to the front of my thoughts. I read
the paper: LIPSKY.

	Glancing up at the directory, I found the name. He was on the 8th
floor, condo A7. Putting the paper back in my pocket, I pushed the
elevator button and waited for a couple of minutes as the old, creaky
contraption finally came back to ground level. The doors opened and
out stepped a wrinkled, very tan old woman, a purple plastic visor
pushing her obviously-dyed blonde hair back. She gave me a quick
glance and then stepped out of the elevator as I walked in around her.

	As the doors closed, I could smell the overpowering scent of coconut
sun tan lotion filling the air all around me. The elevator was stuffy
and hot, though thankfully not as bad as the lobby. Making its ascent,
I waited patiently for it to take me up.

	Alone with my thoughts for the first time in a few hours, I wondered
how I would broach the subject. Did Kyokota already call and tell this
Lipsky guy that I was coming? If not, showing up at his door might not
be the best idea in the world, especially given what I was planning on
asking him. I trusted Kyokota, but I knew that my idea of trust as
well as his, could vary significantly.

	Stepping off the elevator, I walked down the hallway towards condo
A7. I paused for a moment, collecting myself as I pulled my sticky
shirt from off of my back, my heart racing and my mind doing laps
around it as I tried to think of something to say that would get me in
the door, should he not be expecting me.

	Clearing my throat, I raised my hand to knock when suddenly the door
opened.

	"Albert, I'll be back in 10 minutes. Don't try to get up to go to the
bathroom, just use the bedpan," the woman who had now appeared in
front of me yelled into the room. She wore a baggy turquoise shirt and
pant suit that did nothing for her figure, but which I soon realized
was some sort of nurses uniform. I had just a moment to notice her
boyish blonde hair cut before she bumped directly into me.

	"What the fuck?" she said, startled as she looked up at me,
puzzlement on her face. I stuttered a bit, trying to apologize and
explain myself.

	"Sssorry, I was looking for Mmmmmmr. Lipskkkyy?" I said. She caught
her footing and continued to stare at me, her face becoming hard.

	"And who are you?"

	"My name is Alex Hilt. I was sent here by a...business acquaintance
of his. Is this his apartment?"

	I must have seemed threatening to her in some way, because now her
feet became firmly planted in the door way, her arms against the
frame.

	"Yes, this is his condo but I'm sorry, he isn't taking visitors right
now,"

	A voice came from deep within the condo. "GRACE! WHO IS AT THE DOOR?"

	She ignored him and looked at me again. This woman, Grace, probably
was quite a catch 10 years ago. But age had night been kind to her and
she looked every bit the mid 30s that she seemed to be.

	"You'll have to come back some other time, I'm afraid that -"

	"GRACE! WHO IS AT THE GOD DAMNED DOOR?" the voice screamed.

	"CALM DOWN AL, IT'S JUST SOME SALESMAN OR SOMETHING!" she yelled
back. "I'M GETTING RID OF HIM RIGHT NOW!"

	I leaned in close to her, my much larger frame knocking her back on
her feet and for a moment, sending fear through her eyes. I didn't
want trouble, but I had to see him and if taking matters into my own
hands was the only way to do it, then so be it.

	"MR. LIPSKY, I'M A FRIEND OF MR. KYOKOTA," I yelled into the condo,
my deep voice making the walls shake a bit.

	Grace eyed me cautiously, like a rat trapped in a corner. "Please Mr.
Hilt, if you will just leave now I'm sure that Mr. Lipsky will see you
when he is -"

	"LET HIM IN GRACE, IT'S ALRIGHT," the voice yelled in response. I
noticed that he seemed to be gasping for air a bit, his voice craggly
and worn.

	Grace sighed, defeated. Her gaze never left me though, and her eyes
still burned with anger at being shown up. She lowered her arms from
the door frame.

	"Alright, look, you can see him but ONLY because he said it is ok.
Make it quick though, he doesn't have the strength for an all day chit
chat,"

	I smiled politely at her. "Thank you,"

	She didn't acknowledge me but instead, turned on her heel and walked
into the condo. Waiting for a moment, I followed her as she
disappeared down a hallway, my intuition telling me to keep a few feet
distance from her. I saw her stop outside of a bedroom, her eyes
telling me to stop right where I was, as she peeked her head in.

	She said something to him for a moment before finally turning back to
look at me.

	"Make it quick. And don't think I'm leaving you alone with him. I'll
respect his privacy but I'll be right in the kitchen, so don't try any
funny stuff,"

	Grace walked briskly past me as she went through the spacious living
room, its furniture made up of white wicker chairs and a high ceiling
fan that whirred and spun the humid heat of the room around and
around.

	I approached the bedroom, not sure exactly what I would find. The
room was very dark, only a bit of sunlight peeking through the drawn
venetian blinds against the far wall. The yellowish tint made the room
seem murky and small, though as my eyes adjusted I could tell that it
was much larger than it appeared.

	As my pupils adjusted to the light, I saw that the room was very
sparsely furnished. Against the wall, on a high dresser, was an old
television, the bunny ears on it sticking off at weird angles. Near
the blind drawn windows was a modern looking wheel chair, and directly
in the center of the room was a bed with some medical equipment next
to it, including what looked like an EKG monitor, its quiet hum
filling the stillness of the room. Though hard to make out, lying on
the center of the bed was a frail looking man, his long, pajama clad
legs resting atop the sheets as he propped his head against the
pillow.

	"Come in," he croaked at me. I couldn't see the man's face but his
voice was surprisingly loud for such a frail looking invalid.

	I stepped into the room but paused just a few feet from the door, not
sure exactly what to do or where to position myself. Sunlight streamed
through the blinds, making the specs of dust dance as they fell to the
ground, like ballerinas in some cosmicly condemned play.

	I cleared my throat. "Mr. Lipsky, my name is Alex Hilt and I am an -
"

	"I heard your name when you were fighting with that devil woman in
the door. Now what do you want?" he snapped.

	"Well sir, I uh, was told to visit you by Mr. Kyokota. The business
man in Tokyo?"

	"That's horse shit. Kyokota died a few months ago in a plane crash. I
read it in the paper," he barked. For a crippled man (whose handicap I
couldn't quite determine), he had a lot of spunk in him.

	"No sir, this was his son. Yasuo Kyokota. He took over the
corporation after his father died," I replied, not sure if correcting
him would be a wise idea.

	"Ah yes, I forgot about young Yasou. He was just a boy when I last
saw him," Lipsky said, his tone softening.

	"Er, well yes I suppose so sir. Any ways, he said that you might be
able to help me. I'm looking for something that you have that might
help me in bringing down Wilton Willis,"

	The room grew silent for a moment, as Lipsky didn't even breathe.
After a long pause, he finally spoke again, his voice softer and more
breathy this time.

	"How did you get mixed up with Willis?"

	"It's a long story sir, but right now I am on his bad side. But I
know from Mr. Kyokota and Charlie -"

	"You know Charlie?" he said, his voice now completely a whisper.
"I'll be damned,"

	"That's the thing Mr. Lipsky. I knew Charlie. I have not been to Los
Angeles yet but I'm afraid that he may be dead,"

	Another long pause, followed by a heavy sigh that sounded painful
just to listen to.

	"So if Charlie is gone, and Kyokota is gone, that just leaves me.
Sonofabitch," he said. I noticed now that his words were a bit labored
and that he was trying to lift himself up off the bed. I moved to help
him but he stopped me.

	"No Mr. Hilt, its alright. I've still got a bit of piss in me left,"

	I took his word on it and watched as he slowly and methodically
turned himself towards the edge of the bed, letting out a great sigh
of relief as he lowered his legs over the edge. With great effort, he
placed his feet on the ground and, on very very shaky legs, managed to
shuffle over to the wheel chair by the window, collapsing into it with
exhaustion. He panted loudly, a sickening noise coming from his
nostrils that whistled and filled the room, but after a minute or two,
he slowly began to turn the creaky wheels of the wheelchair and roll a
few inches.

	"Let me tell you something Mr. Hilt. I've wanted to take that
sonofabitch Willis down for almost 5 years now. He used to be a real
people person, always coming up to employees and asking how they were,
how their bosses were treating them. Working for him was a dream and
even though I started out at the bottom, with his help I soon became
his head accountant," he said, wheeling himself ever so slowly to the
dresser that held the television. I stayed where I was, not really
sure if I should help him or keep my distance.

	"Why, that bastard even bought me and Caroline a house about 10 years
back," he said, his voice filled with bitter resentment. "And we took
it from him too, even raising the boys for a few years there. How were
we to suspect that he got it on the cheap? He was doing it for all the
other employees, so it MUST have been fine right?"

	I didn't say anything, just let him speak. As he reached the dresser,
he reached his long, frail arms up and began working a combination
lock that held the two cabinets closed.

	"Things were fine until Carol started her coughing fits. First it was
just a cold, then what we thought was the flu. Then, when it turned
into blood, I knew something was not right," he said, pausing for a
moment as he stared at the lock through squinted eyes. I could make
out his face more clearly now. He must have been in his 60s, but like
his nurse, age had not been too kind on him.

	"Asbestosis. The worst kind, already in the most advanced stage. Can
you believe that? Within three months, Carol was gone. She suffered
too, just like I'm suffering now. As soon as I went to Willis, begging
on my hands and knees for help with the fucking hospital bills, he
just walked out of the office. Walked out! On me! The man who handled
his finances perfectly and got him tax break after tax break. The old
shit couldn't even do it himself. He had that weasel Gordon Hapsboro
fire me,"

	Things started to fall into place now, and as if to echo this, the
lock on the dresser opened as he pulled it off of the doors.

	"Well, with Carol gone and huge medical bills from all the therapy
she went through, I just sold that god forsaken house and left in the
middle of the night, moved down here. But things got bad pretty quick
too. See what they don't tell ya is that when the vent leaking that
stuff is over your bed every night of your life, you get problems from
it real quick. Sure enough, when I got down here, the doctors said it
had got to me too. Sometimes I wish I had had it as bad as Carol did,
just so I could go quickly,"

	"I..I'm so sorry," I said, my own voice now a whisper.

	He waved a hand at me. "No need to be sorry, I knew I'd pay for my
sins, for all those time I looked the other way when he gave
'auditions' to all those pretty young girls. No, God is making me pay
and apparently he has a sense of humor, because he's doing it really
slowly,"

	Lipsky stopped talking for a moment as he reached up and pulled out a
metal box, about the size of a shoe box. This too was locked and as he
went to work on this new lock.

	"But don't worry, I have a sense of humor too. I used one of those
new copy machines before I left there and copied each and everything
that the bastard had me do to cheat Uncle Sam. I wanted to have these
opened and turned over to the government when I finally went to my
eternity, but now that I know he's still hurting others, I might as
well give them to you,"

	This lock took him a bit longer, and watching him do it was a very
wince inducing process, but after a minute or two more, the old lock
finally sprung and he opened the creaky, rusted lid of the box. With a
shaky, wrinkled hand, he shuffled through the papers inside for a
moment before pulling out a group that had been rubber banded
together.

	Closing the box back, he set the tube of paper on his lap and put the
box back in its dusty place on the shelf, repeating the process of
locking it up all over again. With another tired sigh, he rolled his
chair towards me.

	"Mr. Hilt, these documents are exactly what you need to prove your
point to the world. This is five years worth of transactions, both on
the book and off. It's all there...extortion money, hush money, drug
money...money money money! Ha, and they say that us Jews are real good
with the stuff. Well, let me tell you something. I may be good at
handling it, but I'm even better at making it look like it vanished,"

	I took the documents from him and held them in my hand. There must
have been at least 50 of them, all appearing to come from the same
sort of payroll book. This could be pay dirt, but only if I got it in
the right hands.

	"Who should I give this to?" I asked, looking at Albert Lipsky's
tired, gray eyes beneath his balding comb-over.

	"Give them to the press, give them to the government, give them to
someone you trust. Of course, with just copies like that, you need to
get your hands on the real thing, to nail him on anything at least,"

	I glanced up from my hands, startled by his comment. "What did you
say?"

	"I said you need the originals. Copies will get you a search warrant,
but it might be too late by then. With his kind of connections, he
would be wise within five minutes. You'll need to go on the inside and
get the originals before they can charge him with anything," Lipsky
said, his voice wheezy now as the strain of moving around really began
to take its toll on him.

	"Mr. Lipsky...that's not going to be possible. I'm not allowed to set
foot near his business or else security will have me arrested," I
said, my voice clearly relaying my dissapointment at not having what I
thought I had.

	"Who said it had to be you? Look, is he still in that god awful
fortress in the middle of LA?"

	"Yes, I'm pretty sure," I replied.

	"Then it will be easy. All you do is wait till everyone is gone for
the day. The security guards in the lobby take naps all the time, so
just wait till they are asleep and then go up to his floor,"

	"But where the hell will I find documents like that? The place is
huge!"

	"Not the accounting department. Look, a lot of the employees of his
company are empty seats...they are just there to fill some sort of
size requirement. They don't give two shits about him, or his money,"
he said. Though his body may have been weak, I could tell that the
fire still burned in the eyes of Lipsky. It was a white hot flame of
revenge.

	"That may be, but that doesn't solve the problem of finding them, if
they even still exist,"

	"They exist, because he wouldn't let them get destroyed. Once you are
in the accounting office, go to the far wall. There will be a ceiling
tile above you that is heavily water stained and looks like it might
fall in at any second. Lift that up and feel around a bit. If
Antamount is in the same building I think they are, the book will be
right there,"

	There was a silence between us as all of it sank into me. It sounded
like the plot of some really bad spy movie, but if he was telling the
truth then this might actually work.

	"And you are sure of this Mr. Lipsky?"

	"Sure as the day is long, and as the thirst for the blood of Wilton
Willis runs through me,"

	I didn't know how to respond to that, so I simply nodded my head.

	"Now, if you will excuse me young man, I believe that the devil woman
will be coming in here any minute. Rather than have her bother me,
could you wheel me over to the window and open the blinds for me?"

	"It would be my pleasure Mr. Lipsky," I said, walking over towards
him now, comfortable for the first time around his presence. Wheeling
him to a stop in front of one of the windows, I pulled on the cord and
was greeted by the beautiful sight of the Atlantic Ocean glimmering
through the blindes, along with the mid-day sun and the reflective
surface of the beach and its crashing waves.

	"Open the window for me please. Those quack doctors say that the
ocean air helps my breathing," he said. I did as he asked and now the
breeze from the ocean filled the room, the pungent odor of sea water
seeping into my skin. Lowering my hand from the window sill, I felt
Lipsky's hand on mine.

	"Good luck Alex," he said, a smile on his face as his hand patted me
like a father touches his child. He slowly pulled it away and directed
his gaze out the window, the wind rustling what little hair he had
left. I stood for a long moment, taking a deep breath of the fresh,
clean air as the sounds of Miami floated in from the front of the
condo.

	I left him there as I walked out of the room and, a few hours later,
boarded a plane for home. As the plane touched down in Los Angeles, I
was filled not with a sense of panic, but a sense of purpose. For the
first time, I suddenly felt like things were going right; that I was
somehow destined to be going down this path. That I might actually be
able to do some good in this world. Forget moving people through a
script, this was about moving real people and saving real lives.

	This evil had to be faced, not just for me and Katherine or Kyokota
and Charlie, or even for Albert Lipsky. Wilton Willis had to be
stopped for the sake of all that was still good in this world. And I
was determined to be the person to do it.




KATHERINE'S STORY:

	I don't know how long I was out, but I was startled awake by some
noise in the room where Mila and myself were being held. My mind was
groggy and things seemed to be moving in slow motion a bit as my eyes
adjusted once again to the little bit of light that was in the room. I
heard cars going by outside, as well as people laughing way off in the
distance. I knew that my problems were far from over.

	Focusing my eyes, I saw the man who introduced himself as Clarence,
standing in front of me. Behind him was a big screen TV on a small
stand, the set probably costing at least ten times as much as the wood
that it sat on. He smiled at me as I saw him move closer. I opened my
mouth to scream, to speak, but nothing came out. I stared at him
frightfully, my heart beating loudly in my chest, a light sheen of
sweat coating my body. I noticed that my arms were still bolted down,
as were my legs, though much to my horror, they were spread rather
lewdly, exposing my nakedness to the room.

	"Good, you are awake. I know your body is still adjusting to our
little cocktail's mixture, but the grogginess will pass," he said in a
smooth, comforting voice. "You may feel tired but I promise you, the
sooner we start, the better off you will be,"

	He walked over to the television and turned it on in the front. A
blue glow immediately started to radiate from it's screen, the soft
light illuminating more of the room than I had been able to see
before. It was just as much of a shit hole as I had feared, but its
contents seemed to be quite expensive and fairly new. Out of the
corner of my eye, I could see Mila's body near me. She too was naked
but it appeared from the shallow sound of her breathing that she was
(luckily) still asleep.

	Crouching down by the television, his face given a weird glow by the
light of it, Clarence spoke again. I could see his features more
clearly now - he was a fairly attractive man, very large and very
bald, with a soft face that looked completely out of place, given the
situation.

	"Let me explain a few things to you now Katherine. What we gave you
was, well, I can't really tell you its exact contents, but I can tell
you what it will do to you. Your mind has been lulled into a very
receptive state by our little friend in the needle. You are probably
finding my words and my voice to be very soothing and comforting to
you,"

	He was right...there was something about the smooth way in which he
was talking that made my heart beat a little more regularly. I hated
him though, for putting me in this situation, for restraining me like
this, and especially for the fact that everything he seemed to be
saying was actually happening to me.

	"In addition," he continued. "We have given you a triple dose of an
aphrodesiac that is very hard to come by. Believe me when I say that
my employers spared no expense when they stocked up on the stuff. The
feelings that it will bring you should start momentarily, now that you
are conscience of what is going on around you. As I said before your
very unexpected drift off into sleep, we are here to recondition you.
We are here to help you, to make you feel good and to make you stay
loyal to my employers. You won't be hurt in any way, nor will you do
anything that you don't want to do. Of course, we might help you do
it, but that is beside the point. The real goal is to just make sure
that you fully realize what it means when you cross or try to fool my
employer,"

	He stood up again, and walked behind where I lay on the table. I
strained my neck to try and see him but it was of no use. I could hear
his voice behind me.

	"We also hope that you will be able to, upon satisfactory completion
of your conditioning, be able to provide us information that we need
to help us find your associate, a Mr. Hilt. I realize that right now
you would never think of betraying his trust, but in due time, you
will break. Everyone breaks,"

	There was some rustling behind me, the sound of something heavy
leaving what sounded like a metal table. As he drew very close to me
now, my mouth open and panting as I tried to speak to him, tried to
plead for him to let me go, I could feel his warm breath on the nape
of my neck. It sent a surprising thrill down my body, one that I
immediately tried to keep in check. I was able to suspend the feeling
a bit before it spread to my lower half, but the battle was tough - I
felt like my body was betraying me with each passing second, that my
mind was losing control of my actions.

	I suddenly felt something being placed on my head, something that
seemed to resemble a metal crown. A rubber tube extended from it,
resting against my right cheek as I tried to move my head to look up
at it. Clarence placed his hands on my face and firmly but gently held
me from moving around too much, thereby preventing me from looking up
like I wanted to. A leather strap was slid under my chin, my mouth
closing to accomodate the snug fit. I felt my heart beat wildly in my
chest again as two prong like things were folded down by Clarence's
big hands, the metal ends pointing directly towards my eyes.

	In fear, I closed my eyes tightly, trying to keep them from snagging
hold, but it was of no avail. With a surprising amount of tenderness,
I felt the tiny metal clasps being fastened to my eyelids as Clarence
pushed them up gently, pulling my eyes open against my will. The air
dried them out instantly, but before they could water up too much, I
felt a soothing liquid slide off of the prongs and into my exposed
eyes, clearing my vision instantly.

	Stepping back away from the table behind me, I adjusted myself to
this new headgear thing that was attached to me. What little mobility
I had with my head before was now gone, as my eyes were held open and
I was forced essentially to look at nothing but the haunting blue
screen in front of me. Everywhere I moved my eyes, I couldn't get the
television out of my sight, no matter how much I tried, which seemed
to be the point. Visions of "Clockwork Orange" filled my head as
Clarence stood next to me on the table.

	He seemed to sense my thoughts.

	"I was told you are an actress, and a fairly talented one as well.
You are no doubt aware then of the fictional world of movies. You act
in them, you star in them, you watch them with friends on a Friday
night. But I'm sorry to tell you Katherine, that this is not a movie.
This is real life, and you are playing yourself. Movies can teach us
so much, and they can make our troubled world seem so much better than
before the first reel started or the play button was pushed. That's
all that we want Katherine. We want you to watch our movie and to feel
better and to learn about yourself, unleash what has long been pent up
in you. Release what my employer saw in you and wants you to utilize
in every possible way. Relax and don't fight it Katherine. Watch our
film. It will change your life,"

	With a slow, deliberate hand, I felt Clarence's fingers run across my
belly. I tensed up my muscles as best I could, trying to block out the
feel of his rough, pleasurable hand as it moved towards my breast. His
thick fingers crested over the base of my breast, sliding upwards onto
the top of it as he fondled my nipple with his thumb and forefinger. I
felt a drop of sweat fall from my forehead, pleasure starting to
course through my drugged body as we gently pulled and played with the
nipple ring that had been put into me what seemed like a lifetime ago.

	But just as quickly as he started, his hand left my flesh. My body
felt on fire from his touch and part of me was seeming to beg for him
to touch me again, to keep touching me all over. He chuckled to
himself and smiled down at me, before moving over to the television
again. He pushed a button down beneath the set and I heard the player
kick to life. The blue screen went black for a few moments, just
enough time for Clarence to speak once more.

	"I'll come back when the time is right. Enjoy the show,"

	He walked away then, just as the "film" on the screen was starting.
As my eyes once again focused on the screen, I was startled at what I
saw.

	In what appeared to be a rapid series of shots, each containing a
totally different scene, the film was nothing more than a porno.
Blinking by and changing scenes from one film to the other almost
every two or three seconds, it was almost hypnotic in rapidity. I
laughed inwardly at what my fears had been over something as trivial
as a bunch of porn flicks, but then I noticed something happening.

	Even though I could not look away from the screen, my attention began
to focus on it. The actions on screen - two women eating each other
out with gusto and apparent delight, followed by a girl getting fucked
in all three of her holes, followed by a series of long, sticky cum
shots all over a cute blondes face were beginning to have the desired
effect. Clarence's attention to my body, plus what I knew had to be
the effect of the drugs on my body were beginning to make my nipples
tingle and burn with pleasure as I became engaged in the film.

	My thoughts start to drift away, jokes about the stupidity of it now
becoming less and less in my mind as my defenses started to wear down
and I began to - yes, as much as I hate to admit it - enjoy the video.
My vision started to get very tunnel like and soon the room around me
began to fade away as I started to anticipate and hope for the next
scene to appear.

	I don't know how long it took but soon, I felt the juices between my
legs start to work inside my body, feeling the heated stickiness as
they slowly leaked from between my thighs and onto my legs. As a woman
was fucked up the ass by a monsterous black cock, I felt my breathing
become more and more rapid as my mind focused entirely on the scene.
Soon I wasn't just watching it, I was actually beginning to imagine
myself in the role of the girls on screen, the ones who were being
used and loving it.

	In the back of my mind, I heard a voice scream to resist, to think
about other things and not get turned on by this lewd video in front
of me. But the voice soon began to fade as I felt my whole body start
to tingle while watching the video. Sweat that had already formed on
my nude body was now flowing freely as my wide open eyes consumed just
what it was supposed to. I couldn't look away from the screen but as I
realized this, I started to understand that I didn't really even want
to look away. That I wanted to watch this, that my body was begging
the men on screen to fuck the girls harder, to make her cum and to cum
all over her themselves.

	To my surprise, a low moan started to escape my lips, the first sound
I had been able to make in who knew how many hours. It was soft at
first, but as the scene changed to something that actually mimicked my
own situation - a girl tied to a bed, getting caressed by three other
women, who were happily groping her breasts and pussy and kissing her
beautiful face - the moan became a cry of lust. My throat still felt
incredibly dry but I didn't really care...the action on screen was too
hot to NOT illicit a reaction from me.

	As more and more of my juices continued to flow from between my legs,
my taut eyes and sweaty body now totally in the grasp of this film, a
funny thing started to happen. What little bit of control I still had
told me that it wasn't really happening, but like a wave cresting over
long dried out rocks, there was no denying that I was on the verge of
a monsterous orgasm - one that would come (or cum perhaps) without any
help from anything but my mind and body.

	Staring at the screen, breathlessly anticipating what was on it and
putting myself mentally into each and every situation, wherein my body
was being used and pleasured, my tits fucked hard with a large cock,
my face coated with stream after stream of hot, sticky, delicious cum,
my orgasm finally began and I pulled hard against the restraints as my
back arched as much as it could, the release of sexual tension inside
me like a small explosion.

	My nipples felt like razor sharp points, the slight jostling of my
body making the rings through them jingle against my body wonderfully
as I hit the peak. Things started to get very dark and black and warm
and comforting around me, all at once, my sexual energy amplified by
the drugs that Clarence had given me.

	Clarence, yes Clarence! Oh how I wished he was here right now!
Fucking his cock deep and long and hard into my pussy, I was sure he
had a wonderfully huge ebony cock that would make my orgasm all the
better, I thought to myself as my eyes continued to feast on the
delicious scene of flesh playing out before me, the cum gushing from
between my legs like a river as the small inner explosions leading up
to the big bang sent me to levels of orgasmic pleasure I never ever
thought possible!

	I continued to pull against the restraints, my body craving with its
every fiber to be able to close my legs together and put spectacular
pressure on my clit, to be able to release my hand and let it rub my
pussy raw with my trembling fingers as the orgasm lasted for what
seemed like hours. My hair had slid between my eyes and I angrily blew
it out of my face, for fear of it blocking the view of this
masterpiece playing on the screen in front of me, this wonderful film
that had brought me to such incredible levels of pleasure.

	Just when I thought the orgasm was over, one final monsterous wave of
bliss hit me, making my pussy spasm inside as a strong gush of my
surely sweet and hot girl cum coated my thighs and shaved pussy all
around. It was too much to take though, and things once again started
to get black before my eyes, only this time they stayed black. I felt
my eyes roll into the back of my head, the only place they could go
thanks to Clarence's great attachment and I once again passed out,
this time from pleasure and exhaustion.


	I must have been out for a few minutes at least, because when I awoke
things had changed. Oh, the film was still playing, and I was happy to
see that I hadn't missed too much (though at this point, missing ANY
would be like losing a family member, the loss that devestating) but
the room was suddenly much more crowded. I could hear female pantings
and moanings, these much closer and much more real than what was
blasting through the speakers attached to the set.

	Mila. She must have awoken and must be viewing the same thing as me!
Part of me was jealous that maybe she was watching a different version
than I was but as I listened more closely to the screen off to my
right I could already tell that she was getting the same wonderful
show that I was. This made me happy. Mila was my friend and I wanted
her to experience this as well...it was too wonderful an experience
not to share.

	But we weren't alone. Standing over me, I now noticed, was Clarence
and two other men. They were all naked, their black bodies glistening
with sweat or oil (I didn't really care, they just looked hot) as they
loomed over me, smilingly devilishly at the fact that I was now awake.
My thoughts earlier of Clarence fucking me with his big black cock
suddenly rushed to the front of my mind. I continued to stare at them,
hating myself for not being able to watch the movie.

	"You like the movie so far, don't you Katherine?" Clarence asked.

	I nodded my head, surprised to see that apparently my restraints had
been loosened - either by them or by me with my own body movements.

	"It's alright, you should be able to talk now," Clarence said. I
almost jumped out of my skin as I felt his hand move down and touch my
naked belly, my hot flesh growing all the more hot by the sudden
contact. I moaned in happiness at the feeling.

	"I...I want..." I struggled to say, my throat dry from lack of
anything to drink in God knew how long. But there was something else I
wanted right then.

	"You want what? What do you want?" Clarence said, smirking at me.

	As much as I didn't want to admit to wanting it, and even though part
of me was embarassed at having to say it, my body was simply
screaming, burning with a passion from every hair and nerve cell in me
for what I wanted.

	"I want...your cock," I said, finally getting the words out.

	The three men exploded in laughter for a moment, slapping each other
on the back and joking with one another. I didn't find it funny at all
however, as I was being sincere - I needed cock, and I needed it
inside of my aching, burning pussy RIGHT NOW.

	"I knew you'd come around Katherine," Clarence said. Moving his hand
up from my belly, he glided it towards my nipple on my left breast,
each wonderful second of his touch making me tingle and burn with
anticipation. I gasped and cried out in absolute pleasure as I felt
him brush over my aeraola, each little bump on my darkened, pierced
nipples seemingly on fire from his touch. I didn't care whose touch it
was, honestly...at that point it didn't matter, as long as I was BEING
touched.

	"So you say you want cock, huh?" he said casually, still playing with
my breast. I felt his pinky slid in under the hoop of my nipple ring.
"Well, which cock do you want? Do you want mine?"

	Upon saying that, he stepped closer to me and stood on his tip toes,
placing the shaft of his prick against my restrained hand. I
immediately grabbed it tightly, caressing and feeling the ebony flesh
beneath my fingers, its still somewhat flacid length growing more and
more the longer I held it and the tighter I squeezed. Lowering himself
back down to his feet, I moaned in disappointment as his dick slid out
from my hand.

	"Or maybe you want Marcus' long, hot stick plunging into you, huh?"
Clarence said. Marcus, who was apparently the one standing to my
right, stepped up between my legs. Holding his manhood in his hand, he
smiled wickedly at me as he ran the thick, bulbous head against my
dripping wet opening. I felt part of my outer lips open - ever so
slightly - but it was only for a moment, a moment that was far far too
fleeting.

	At that point, I was now trembling with desire and anticipation and
lust. There was a dull roar of arousal in my ears and though I heard
Clarence talking, I couldn't make out the words. All I kept hearing in
my head, running constantly through, was COCK COCK COCK COCK COCK
COCK...

	What happened next is hard to remember with much detail. Looking
back, I feel that I was almost above my own body, watching it contort
with passion and lust, my entire being focused solely on getting
fucked, and getting fucked hard. Everything else is a blur, save for a
few key elements. As Marcus stepped away, and the last man, who I
later learned was, ironically enough, named Alex, towered over me, his
toned and chiseled body glimmering in the light of the room, all
attempts at civility on my part were dismissed.

	Kneeling between my legs, I felt his thick hand caress my thigh for
just a moment before he pressed his mouth and his steamy hot breath
against my sex. My folds parted easily for him, the blood engorged
outer lips betraying me as I felt his tongue make contact with my
clit, causing me to orgasm within a split second.

	I let out an ear piercing moan of pleasure as he jammed his tongue
into me deep and hard (though not hard enough), the strong muscle
licking into my deepest region, tasting my over excited juices as they
soaked into his tastebuds. Bucking my hips towards his face, in a
desperate attempt to get more of his tongue into me, I came harder
than I can ever conciously remember, coating his face with my juices.
This didn't deter him though, for he just moved his face deeper and
closer into my pussy and licked away at me with a wonderful passion
that echoed just how turned on everyone in the room seemed to be.

	Lewd, sucking noises filled the room as the dull roar in my ears was
replaced by a long wail, one that I soon realized was coming from me
as I felt my lips begin to move, some part of my primitive brain
begging and urging this Alex to continue to pleasure me.

	"YES! YES YES YES YESSSSSS!!!!" I hissed at him, able now to lift my
head ever so slightly so that I could watch him. "Fuck me, fuck me
hard, fuck me like the dirty, sex crazed slut that I am," I said,
gasping between each breath. Within moments, I felt another tremendous
orgasm begin to build in me, as I felt his tongue caress and lick my
inner walls so deeply that all I could see of his face was his eyes
and his forehead.

	"Oh GODDDDD!!!!" I cried out, thrusting my thighs against him,
repeating the phrase "Fuck me fuck me fuck me" over and over and over
again, its familiarity becoming my mantra as I gave my body and mind
to this man, to these men who were pleasing me in ways that I never
wanted to end. Ever.

	I began to feel dizzy from the bliss that my body was feeling, sweat
covering my face and dripping down between my eyes and my nose now as
my hardened nipples pressed upwards into the air, desperately trying
to come into contact with something, to FEEL something against them.
Laying my head back down to catch my breath, another orgasm started as
he worked his finger into me, opening me up more and more for his
wicked, serpentine tongue. I came yet again, in an orgasm as equally
hard as any I had experienced that night.

	After an untold number of these, I heard Marcus and Clarence talking
to one another in soft tones. Opening my eyes, I saw Clarence tap Alex
on the shoulder, signaling for him to move from between my legs. I
screamed in agony as his tongue left me, causing - even for that one
fleeting moment - my pleasure and my exhausting series of orgasms to
end.

	"No! Don't stop! Don't ever stop!" I said to them in a raspy voice.
None of the men said anything, but Clarence once again moved towards
me. I bit my lip in anticipation of his rubbing of my nipples
(something I had already grown to love and cherish, even in the short
time I had been there, my mind forever etched with the wonderful
feeling that such attention gave me) but he instead moved to my head.
With the same surprising tenderness that he had showed when applying
it, Clarence undid the strap of the helmet device that I wore and
lifted it off my head. My eyes immediately closed, the lids exhausted
from being held open for so long, and I laid back against the chair,
my breath still coming in irregular, panting gasps.

	I heard him set it down but quickly my mind returned to its primary
goal of cock, and nothing else.

	"Fuck me! Please please please fuck me oh please will one of you fuck
me with your fat, hard pricks? Please please I NEEEEDDDDDDDD IT!" I
cried out as Clarence moved next to the other men again. I stopped
crying out for them and simply watched, my eyes wide and eager for the
fucking that I so desperately wanted. Clarence nodded towards Marcus
and as he moved between my legs, that same thick and engorged prick in
his hand that he had so cruelly teased me with earlier, I held my
breath and watched him.

	Without saying a word, Marcus lined himself up between my cunt lips
and pressed forward. The head of his cock was swallowed up immediately
by my thirsty, needy pussy as he continued to push more and more of
his length into me. I felt my body open up inside for him, amazed that
something as thick and long as his cock could actually fit inside of
my (what I had once thought was) well conditioned twat. Pushing
himself all the way to the hilt inside of me, pausing for just a
moment when he had reached his full depth and the heavy balls beneath
his prick dangled against my ass, I could already feel an orgasm
building once more.

	Unlike the oral sex I had just received, feeling the thick veins of
the cock that I had so desperately wanted inside of me was a
completely different experience. Be it the drugs or my over worked
sense of lust, I couldn't help but feel like we had bonded - become
one - as every nerve in my pussy tightened and caressed and welcomed
his penetration of me. I could actually feel the blood flowing through
his rock hard dick, pumping through the veins as he held himself
inside of me in that short, fleeting moment. When he began to move, I
could feel it even more, but I could also feel something else: the
flames of lust that had burned through me since that film had started
now licking and devouring what it had wanted so badly.

	Pulling out slightly, my over worked body came in a strong flood of
juices as his thick shaft brushed over my clit, making me yelp in a
pleasurable scream of passion. He thrust himself back in, getting a
routine going in and out of me as he would pull out more and more each
time, before savagely (and wonderfully) shoving himself back inside of
my pussy as deep as he could. The effect was just what, I'm sure,
Clarence had wanted. With each passing stroke, I began to grow hotter
than I ever thought possible, the pleasure centers in my brain
exploding in fireworks at having gotten what it wanted. I didn't want
him to ever, ever, ever stop fucking me, and I couldn't think of how I
possibly ever lived without his fat manhood deep inside my slutty,
cock hungry pussy.

	Still unable to move too much, all that I could do to meet Marcus'
thrusts was roll my hips a bit for him, my ass sliding around on the
table from the sweat and love juices that now seemed to cover my
entire lower body. I could feel the sticky juices cling to his
muscular thighs as he pumped me, touching deep inside of me in places
I never thought possible. I felt the tip of his prick brush against
the back of my inner wall many times and each time, especially when he
would glide over my clit expertly and with the precision of a well
oiled machine, I came just a little bit more, my exhausted body now
just producing mini orgasms as opposed to too many massive ones. I had
lost count of how many times I had cum, the whole effect now just a
constant blur of pleasure that racked my brain and drove me insane
with lust, my body heated and charged beyond anything I had ever felt.

	Marcus spedu p his fucking of me and, as his balls slapped against my
gaping, wet sex, I could sense, even in my drug and pleasure enduced
state, that he was about to cum. Thrusting my hips against him as hard
as I could, I clamped my pussy muscles tight around him, the velvet
walls coaxing and begging him for more, as if trying to suck the hot,
sticky cum from his balls. Burrowing deep inside me one last time, he
gave a loud grunt and laid down on my chest, his heavy body brushing
over my fiery hot nipples and triggering my own orgasm, as he exploded
in white, sticky torrents deep in me.

	I gave an animal cry of lust and pleasure as I felt the first few
strands of his man juice hit my inner walls, his flood of love liquids
splattering against my pussy wall, dripping down around his cock as he
slowed his thrusts down, cum continuing to spurt out in long, ropy
strands until I could feel its hot stickiness leaking out of my well
fucked cunt. I shuddered in pleasure as Marcus lay panting on top of
me, his hips giving a few final thrusting motions as I sapped his
trunk like a tree, my body craving and desiring all the hot seed that
he had to give me.

	We laid like that for a few moments (not like I had much choice of
course), the pleasant afterglow of a warm fucking just now starting to
cool off my scorching hot body. I was covered in sweat from head to
toe, my hair plastered to my red, flushed face as the steaming juices
between my legs formed a bond between myself and Marcus. Coming out of
the daze that I had been in, I felt exhausted and yet very
refreshed...and yet despite having cum so much in such a short amount
of time, I could feel my body reenergizing itself, getting ready to
start craving like a fiend the precious cock that it so desperately
wanted.

	In the haze of bliss that I had been in, I didn't even notice until
now the cries of pleasure coming from beside me. Turning my head ever
so slightly, I saw the massive frame of the other man, Alex, pumping
up and down on a small white body beneath him. Mila was screaming in
ecstacy as she too was getting her tight pussy stuffed with the
wonderful cock I knew she wanted. Marcus slowly pulled himself out of
me, releasing a stream of cum that had been held in by his thick tool
as he stood up, the clear white liquid pouring out anew from between
my stretched gash like a well fucked whore. Grabbing a towel, Marcus
wiped himself off as Clarence moved between my legs.

	Rubbing his hands over my thighs for a moment before scooping up a
fingerful of cum, Clarence looked down at me.

	"Well, I'd say you got what you wanted Katherine. But you want more I
bet, don't you?"

	For a moment, I couldn't even possibly fathoming saying yes, but
before I knew it, I was speaking with a lust tinged voice at him,
answering his question. Again I felt the feeling of being outside of
my own body as a strange itch - the sort that can only be scratched by
getting a fix - began to course through my veins anew.

	"Oh yes Clarence baby, YES!" I moaned at him as he smeared the glob
of cum onto my thigh.

	"Then say it," he said, his voice flat and serious, his dark face
growing rather ashen as he spoke.

	"I want cock. I want YOUR cock. Please please please fuck me again,
please stick that fat, hot cock of yours deep into my tiny, tight
white pussy. Please Clarence, fuck me hard and fuck me deep and then
cum deep, deep, deep inside of me!" I cried out, hoping my words were
what he wanted to hear.

	"Excellent. I'm more than happy to," he said, clearly pleased by my
response.

	Lining himself up against my pussy for a brief second before
thrusting all the way in, I began my quick ascent to heaven once more.




KIRSTEN'S STORY:

	We were already on the plane to Los Angeles when the phone rang. The
noise broke the relative quiet of the plane, startling a few
passengers who were asleep. Natalie was staring out the window next to
me and she turned her head as I fumbled in my purse for the phone.
With her wide, deep brown velvet eyes, she watched me answer it.

	"Hello?" I said, plugging my ear so that I could talk fairly quietly.

	I don't remember the exact details of the conversation, so
unfortunately I can't recount it all here right now. I do know this -
it was Eliza, and she gave me the information I needed, the
information to help Natalie and I do what we were being brought back
to LA to do.

	Hanging up a few minutes later, a name and some directions scribbled
down on a cocktail napkin, Natalie looked at me for an explanation.

	"I heard my name mentioned a few times," she said softly, her face
eager to hear what I had to say. "What's going on?"

	Holding the napkin in my hand, I played with it aimlessly for a
moment, thinking about how to best explain things to Natalie. My heart
wrenched up in my chest everytime I thought of having to share her
with someone else, of having to use her to meet the goals of some very
powerful people in Hollywood. Part of my hesitation, I knew, came from
not knowing exactly who these people were. I knew Eliza was involved
with some important people, and that she sometimes took orders from
someone she called "The Mistress", but beyond that I really didn't
know the whole agenda. That bothered me, not because such a secret
society actually existed, but because I didn't like having to send
Natalie off into the "wild" like that. She was supposed to be mine - I
had done the dirty work, the seduction and the lying and convincing
and twisting of things to get her to be with me and help me. But I
hadn't anticipated falling in love with her, not in the way that I
had.

	"That was my, er, friend Eliza," I said.

	"You mean your LUVA," Natalie said with a smirk, accenting the last
few syllables of the word like Will Ferrell did on that old Saturday
Night Live sketch.

	I blushed. 

	"You know, you are my LUVA too," I said playfully. "But yes, Eliza
and I have been together before. She was calling to tell me where to
go when we get to Los Angeles,"

	"Oh yeah?" Natalie said. Her bright eyed exuberance made me love
more, but hate myself even more for what I had to do. "What is it that
we are doing out in LA? You were a bit vague on the details,"

	"Well, you were a bit naked at the time. I think it is a forgiveable
crime," I said to her in a whisper. Natalie giggled.

	"That IS true," she said.

	"We are being sent to LA to deal with a man," I said, my voice
getting serious. It was the only way that I knew I would get through
what I needed to say. "Specifically, a man who has caused a lot of
pain and heartache to Eliza and the people she is associated with,"

	"What people?" Natalie asked. Being an occasional actress, she
clearly was not totally up on the politics of Hollywood.

	"I can't really get into it right now, but lets just say that they
aren't the type of people you want mad at you," I replied. Natalie's
smile faded a bit and she nodded her head, signalling for me to
continue.

	"We need to find him at his house and get him to tell us something,
something very important," I said.

	"Oh, do we get to get like, all Sydney Bristow on his ass?" Natalie
said with another smirk. God, even as a goofball she was beautiful. I
shook the thought away.

	"No, not exactly. And that is the other thing. It isn't a 'we' thing
Nat, it is a 'you' thing," I said, nervous to see her response.
Natalie's face became a look of confusion for a moment as she furrowed
her brow, unclear what exactly I meant. To reassure her, I took her
hand in my own and held it tightly as I leaned close to her ear to
whisper.

	"Don't worry Natalie, I'll be right there with you, just outside, to
guide you and help you out. I'd never leave you alone,"

	"O...K...Kiki, but what exactly do I have to do?" Natalie said, some
trepidation in her voice.

	Our eyes met and I held her gaze, staring straight into what seemed
like her soul as I made sure my words came out carefully and clearly.

	"Eliza's informant, someone who is close to him, said that he has
some urgent business to take care of as soon as he gets back in town.
What we need to do is just wait for him when we get to LA and then
follow him to whereever he is going. Once we know he is alone, you'll
need to go in and...uh, well use whatever means possible to get what
we need to know from him,"

	"You mean sleep with him?" Natalie said, recoiling in her seat.

	"Not exactly! Keep your voice down Nat! Listen, it isn't going to be
as difficult as it sounds. Both Eliza and the people supporting her
think that he will crack very easily. Once you find out what we need,
they will take care of the rest," I said.

	"Why can't you come with me though Kiki?"

	"Don't you think it would be a bit weird if two celebrities just
showed up outside his door?"

	"And one celebrity isn't weird?" Natalie countered.

	"We have that part covered, you have an alibi that I'll rehearse with
you when we land. It won't take you long and it won't be difficult,"

	Natalie still seemed reluctant. "I'm not sure about this Kirsten, it
all sounds really odd and more than a little sinister to me,"

	What I did next, I will forever regret. When working with someone you
love, you should never mix that love in with what your goals. It's a
dangerous combination, and one that I should have done everything
possible to avoid.

	Swallowing the lump in my throat hard, I continued to stare into
Natalie's deep eyes.

	"I need you to do this Nat. For me," I said, brushing her hand with
my fingertips. Natalie glanced down at my hand and then back at my
eyes. For a long moment, we just stared at each other. Then a slow
smile began to form on her lips, breaking into a wide grin.

	"Ok Kiki. I said I would do anything for you, and now it's time for
me to prove it,"

	I sighed inwardly at the passing of the storm as I returned Natalie's
rainbow like smile with one of my own. I leaned in towards her and
kissed her forehead in gratitude.

	"Thank you Natalie,"

	Lifting up the armrest between us, Natalie leaned her head against my
shoulder as we snuggled close together in the seat. Reaching her hand
out to take the cocktail napkin from the tray, she picked it up and
examined the name and address. Again her brow furrowed a bit.

	"Hmmm, never heard of him. Who is Alex Hilt?"




PETTY'S STORY:
	
	"MOVE BITCH!" the man holding onto my arm spat at me, shoving my back
roughly as I stumbled a step or so ahead of him. I was being led out
of the black car that had picked me up, some beat up old Lincoln or
something, and into the door of a room at one of the sleaziest motels
I'd ever seen.

	Pressing me against the door frame, the man guiding me - one of
Gordon Hapsboro's personal bodyguards, and a rough one at that -
turned the door knob and half kicked the door open.

	The smell of the room was dizzying. Reeking of stale sex, pot and
spilled beer, I couldn't even count the number of stains on the floor,
nor tell exactly how the cracked and crumbling walls were still
holding together. Where the normal chest of drawers would have been, a
small three legged table (which was once a four legged one, I noticed)
rested, an old rotary phone and an ashtray wobbling on top of it. A
cracked mirror hung over the solitary, sheetless bed in the room, the
matress frame and box springs long gone, leaving a yellowing matress
that was surrounded by spent condoms and what looked like old needles.

	My head was spinning, the high from that wonderful coke that Hapsboro
had given me had worn off, replaced by the more natural element of
fear. I stumbled on wobbly legs towards the bed, repulsed by the
overpowering scent of urine as I fell on top of it, catching myself
with my wrists just in time before my face fell flat into it.
Regaining my balance, I spun around on the bed, trying not to touch it
as much as possible as I looked at the man who put me here.

	But it was too late. In the split second I had fallen and been able
to spin back around, he had already reached the door. Sprinting with
all my strength to try and catch him before he made it out, it was too
late. Just as my hand reached the heavy wood (probably the most
expensive thing in the room) of the door, he slammed it shut, locking
it from the outside.

	Banging uselessly on it, I screamed and cried to be let out. The sun
was going down and through the lone window in the bathroom, I was
already starting to lose what little light I had in the room, making
it harder to tell what to touch and what not to touch. After about
five minutes of banging, I leaned against the door and began sobbing -
what had I become? What was going to happen to me?

	Closing my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks, I heard laughter
outside the room. Lifting my head with a start, I heard a set of keys
in the lock and what sounded like the bolts falling into place as the
door was about to be opened. Now was my chance!

	Stepping back from the door, I crouched halfway down and prepared to
pounce on whoever walked through the door, doing whatever I had to in
order to get out. Whatever Hapsboro had said about "earning my keep"
before was now scaring the living hell out of me and I didn't want to
be around to see what he had really meant.

	As the door opened, my heart thudding in my chest, I leaped towards
the door and managed to make it towards the small crevice that had
started to open before coming to a screaching halt. Wedged against the
door as he pushed it open, was another man of monsterous proportions.
Luckily, small as I was, I caught him off guard a bit and he looked
like he was about to lose his footing, had it not been for the giant
meatfist of a hand he had, which held an even larger gun.

	We collided in the doorway, me pushing against him with all my might,
he caught off guard but able to only stagger back a step or two. For
one fleeting moment, I felt that I had made it out of the room, as I
could see the freeway off in the hazy distance behind where we were.
But as soon as I pushed, he pushed back, this time with his hand and
his gun. Using the brunt of his fist, he shoved me back savagely by
the shoulder, throwing ME off balance as I comically bounced off him
like a cartoon character, stumbling back into the room.

	His footing now regained, the man held his gun out at arm's length,
its dark and cavernous barrel pointing directly at my head. I stopped
in my tracks as he advanced into the room, followed by two other men -
one near his height and one much shorter. The two big men wore navy
blue slacks and muscle shirts and looked to be of Hispanic origin,
while the other man - shorter and dressed more in a Miami Vice style,
was definetely Hispanic and definetely pissed by my attempt at escape.

	"What the fuck do you think your doing?" the short one said to me
with a snarl. I fell backwards and my ass hit the ground as I
scrambled backwards, my back hitting the dirty bed as the three of
them advanced on me, the door (and my last chance at freedom) closing
with a slam behind them.

	"I...I was..."

	The one with the gun reared his hand back and slapped me - hard -
across the face. The blow caught me off guard and I crumpled onto the
floor, tears falling almost instantly from the futility and exhaustion
of the whole ordeal. I certainly wasn't high on anything right then,
but I would have given almost anything to have been.

	They stood over me for a few moments as I managed to stop my tears
and sit up hesitantly, positioning myself in a sort of fetal position
against the wall and the bed. I stared at them with fear in my eyes,
my mind and body reeling as I lost complete control of the situation.

	"You were trying to escape eh? Well no one leaves Rocco's till they
have paid their debt, si?"

	Functioning on autopilot now, I nodded quickly in response.

	"Good. Now Petty, we don't want to hurt you. Believe me of that - you
are worth much more to us looking good than looking bad, at least for
the time being. But we aren't your mommy or your daddy either. Our
clients might want to be your daddy, but we are not,"

	The two big men chuckled at this and Rocco smiled. In the dim light
of the room, I could tell he was ugly. Puberty had not been kind to
him, and he had deep pock marks all in his cheeks. Across the right
side of his face, a long scar extended from his hair line (his hair
oily and sweaty, pulled back tightly against his head) all the way
down below his chin. His eyes were set inside of his face high above
his nose, giving him the appearance of a flattened bird as he glared
at you. His teeth were yellow and one was completely brown - a canine,
I remember - and his smile was just as disturbing as the rest of him
appeared to be. The suit that he wore (if you could even call it that)
was a lavendar color, the pants striped with a series of thick blue
lines that ran vertically down his short legs. The sports coat was the
same pattern, but beneath it all he wore was a very dingy wifebeater
t-shirt, the curly hair of his chest sticking out over the collar.

	"What do you want from me," I said meekly, averting my eyes from
their lecherous gaze.

	"You are here to prove yourself to our esteemed client, Mr. Hapsboro.
He believes that you do not have the talent that it takes to succeed
in his line of work, so he wants you to prove him wrong, if you can.
Think of it as being sent down to the minors, only here we don't treat
you like anything than what you are - a cunt," Rocco said, lowering
himself onto his haunches, his rancid breath seeming to ooze out of
his mouth like a wafting sewer grate.

	"See Petty, we are what you fancy Hollwood types might call an
'escort service' - we escort the men in, you escort them out," he
said, getting another snicker from the other men. "And when they are
here, you are theirs to do whatever they want to you. And you will do
it, won't you Petty?"

	I couldn't even believe what I was hearing. This couldn't be real,
this couldn't be real, this couldn't be real...

	"Hey! Bitch! I'm talking to you!" Rocco said, lifting his hand back
as if to slap me again.

	I cringed again in fear, my body already starting to respond to what
he wanted me to do.

	"I said, you will do what we want, won't you Petty?"

	"I...I don't..."

	"You don't what? Don't want to die? Good, because I don't want you to
die either. But that's what will happen if you don't treat your pal
Rocco and his business friends with every bit of respect you can find
in that sweet ass of yours. It would be a terrible shame to see an up
and coming singer like you, albeit one with a bit of a drug problem,
found dead in a dumpster with a needle in her arm. But that can happen
Petty, it happens every day,"

	I nodded dumbly, my body in a state of shock over what was going on.

	"Excellent. Then here's the house rules. You do whatever the client
asks, for as long as he asks. You don't say no and you don't try to
resist him, unless that's the sort of thing he is in to. You'll get
four hours during the day to sleep and eat some food that the boys
will bring you. Oh, and every other day is your turn on the street. If
you need a pick me up, there's a fresh set of needles and some H in
the drawer. Use it wisely though cuz until you really start earning,
that's gotta last you,"

	I glanced over at the drawer where he had indicated. This was a whole
new level of depravity, I could already tell. Blow and some pot were
one thing, but heroin freaked me out. I hoped I wouldn't have to use
it. Unfortunately, it turned out that I didn't have much of a choice.

	"Now Petty, be a good girl. Stand up and take off your clothes. You
won't be needing them for much longer,"

	On trembling legs, I stood up. My hands shook as I reached down and
lifted my t-shirt off my head, my bare breasts (in my haste to meet
Hapsboro, I had neglected a bra) and nipples growing hard in the
slight cool of the room. I covered my chest with one hand as I hooked
my thumb on my sweatpants. For a moment, I hesitated, not wanting to
pull them down and fully expose myself to these wicked men. I looked
up at Rocco with that same hesitation. But rather than sympathy, he
took it as an act of defiance.

	"Don't want to do it eh? Fellas, help Petty out of her clothes
please," he said, his voice flat and dark in tone.

	They moved towards me and I turned to run, trying to get past them if
only I could. Catching my shaking arms, they held me still. One of
them, I still don't know which, yanked at the waist of my pants and
pulled them down, the stretchy material sliding down over my thighs
slowly as I kicked and tried to fight them. It was no use though, for
the pants came off and I was naked and exposed totally now before the
three of them.

	Still struggling, they held my body tightly as Rocco moved towards
me. I tried to kick at him but was restrained immediately by the two
other men.

	Reaching his hand out, Rocco savagely grabbed my breast. I cried out
more in pain than surprise - it hurt, but not as bad as I would have
expected.

	"Listen Petty, don't try any of this shit with my customers. The boys
will be waiting outside and if they hear a man scream in anything
other than pleasure, they will be in here so fast it will make your
head spin," he said, his stale breath and oily face just inches away
as he whispered at me.

	In my distraction at looking at him, I didn't notice that one of the
men had removed a needle from his coat and was holding my arm still.
It wasn't until I felt the prick of the point against my inner arm -
he was shooting me up with something! - that I realized how truly
screwed I was. For as soon as the needle was in and the plunger
pushed, the grip on my arms relaxed and Rocco stepped back, smiling.

	"There, now you should be in a more receptive mood to my customers.
The first one is already waiting to break you in outside, I'll go get
him,"

	Giving one last push, I tried to get away but the contents of the
needle, which clearly was some form of heroin or something of that
strength were already taking an effect on me. My vision blurred
slightly as the drug coursed through my veins and I had the sensation
of falling - falling slowly at first, then much more rapidly as I
landed on my back atop the disgusting bed.

	Laying on the bed, my mind began to twirl and swirl in ways I can't
even begin to describe. The room spun, but in a pleasant way as I
seemed to feel every blood cell in my body responding to the euphoria
that was rushing through me like a tidal wave of bliss. I was high,
and WHAT a high it was. In the back of my mind I knew that they had
probably given me heroin or something to that effect, as whatever it
was made every other drug I had tried or encountered pale in
comparison. Rational thought faded away and I began to lose myself in
my minds own amusements, a pleasing calm coming over me.

	I heard voices around me, and I knew they were Rocco and his men, but
I didn't care. The whirlwind I was experiencing made me forget about
any danger or hang ups I had before, as I ran my hands over my nude
body and caressed and played with my own skin, my mind creating all
sorts of games and tricks to amuse itself with.

	Sometime later, for I really don't know when, I sensed other people
in the room. I had been fascinated with the light blonde hair on my
arm, staring at it intently as I lifted it up strand by strand,
letting it fall back in place in a wild sense of amusement that made
me happy on virtually every level, until I was interrupted by these
people back in the room. Reluctantly I looked away from my arm and saw
one of Rocco's guys standing by the door of the room, its distance
from me appearing as if an ocean away. Near him was another man, a
young looking college age guy, who seemed to be handing the larger
bodyguard/thug money, only doing it very very slowly.

	I couldn't help but laugh at the slow speed in which they were going
and that caused them to look at me for a moment.

	"Shit, that really IS her!" the younger man said. "I so can not
believe I actually am going to fuck her!"

	It took a moment for the words to sink in, and my brow furrowed as I
grasped onto the thought. But again time was moving slowly and before
I knew it, the young guy (who, I must say, was fairly muscular and
attractive) was standing naked by me, pushing me down back onto the
bed as he crawled up my body.

	I moaned in pleasure as I felt his hands touch my skin, the wonderful
human contact making me shudder and practically cum all over myself in
enjoyment. He roughly groped my breasts, rubbing my nipples under his
hands as they grew hard upon his minstrations. But just as soon as he
started playing with them, he stopped, causing me to cry out in
anguish at the missing feeling of his hands. However, the pleasure was
quickly brought back on as I felt my pussy opening up around his
seemingly huge cock.

	Glancing down, the effects of the drug gave me a weird perspective. I
could see him thrusting in and out of me, only it was somewhat like a
hallucination, as his cock throbbed and seemed to grow and expand in
size beneath me. My reaction time was also slowed, but I could feel
waves of pleasure gently gliding over my body like a calm surf, the
lazy strokes of water touching every fiber in my body. That was how I
felt now, with this anonymous guy on top of me.

	As I said before, time was slowed and I really lost complete track of
it. I don't know when it all began and when it all stopped - the
original guy was replaced by many more guys, each different enough for
me to notice that they had moved atop me and were fucking me with
gusto, but little more than that. Faces became a blur of colors and
shapes as I drifted in and out of an aware state, small orgasms from
my spasming, oversexed body breaking into the high like tiny
firecrackers. Eventually however, as I started to come down many
untold hours later, I passed out.

	I was awakened sometime later by a bunch of voices in the room. My
head throbbed and my pussy felt raw and sore. With a stiff neck, I
lifted my head up and looked down at myself. My breasts and stomach
were splattered with dried cum, and my pussy lips were red and
slightly swollen from all the fucking I had had. Smacking my lips
together, I tasted bitter semen in my mouth - apparently only my ass
had been left unviolated. Struggling to sit up (I felt exhausted), I
focused my bleary eyes towards the voices at the foot of the bed.

	A mixture of men of all races, some totally naked and some fully
clothed, were drinking beer and smoking pot as they stood around a
small card table that had been setup in the room. They were laughing
and joking with one another, and I noticed a small stereo on the floor
off to the side. It seemed like they were waiting for something.

	Opening my mouth to speak, I voice was scratchy and dry, words
seeming to come from some aged version of myself, not the woman that I
was.

	"What is...what the hell is going on?" I croaked, my words causing a
few of the men to glance over at me. They studied me for a moment, a
few smiling slightly, before returning to the "party" they were
engaging in. I lay my head back down on the nasty bed, frustrated at
being ignored yet too worn out to even bother getting up and trying
again.

	I closed my eyes and laid there, listening to the music and voices as
they moved in and out of my ears, none really registering or making
much sense to me. About thirty minutes later, I heard the door to the
room open and the voices suddenly became louder, more excited and
certainly more carnal.

	Lifting my head again, I saw two big men entering, followed by a very
short girl, her blonde hair the most striking thing about her. She
wore a corset of deep blue leather that pushed her ample breasts up
towards her throat, and a pair of fuck me pumps as she walked into the
room, the confidence with which she walked making everyone pay
attention. I noticed too that she wore a barely there thong like piece
of clothing between her legs, the narrow strip of fabric barely
concealing her shaved mound.

	"X-Tina!" one of the men yelled in an excited voice as he ran over to
her. His massive arms embraced her and lifted her off the ground,
their faces meshing into one another as they kissed. X-Tina? Surely it
couldn't be...

	"Hey baby, how are my walking fuck sticks doing today?" the girl
said. I blinked my eyes a few times before realizing that indeed, it
really was Christina Aguilera.

	I knew that she had undergone an "image change" over the past few
months, tarting herself up into a walking sex object. She had emerged
into the public eye with piercings galore, a sultry manner in which
she carried herself and of course, incredibly erotic videos and
performances. But to think that she was here, right now, in this
shithole that I was forcibly being held in, was almost unfathomable.
She really couldn't be as spit out and used by Hollywood as I was,
could she?

	The man released her and the other members of the room still crowded
around her, some lewdly groping and touching her as she giggled and
laughed and shared a joint that was passed to her. I took all of this
in, waiting to see where it would go, knowing that for whatever
reason, she had walked into this room and that I would somehow be
involved with whatever those Antamount fuckers had planned.

	Pulling a breast out of her corset, one of the men - tall, with
blonde hair and a chiseled, sexy jaw, put his mouth to her nipple,
sucking voraciously on the ringed tip of it as he used his hands to
caress and stroke her frame. The rest of the men backed off from her
for the most part, but I did notice that one seemed to be fascinated
with her ass, as he was stroking and rubbing it while standing behind
her, Christina (or X-Tina)'s head resting on his shoulder.

	"MMmmm...that's great fellas, you know just what I like. I can't
believe that I went to that stupid awards show instead of meeting you
studs here like usual,"

	There came a chorus of "It's ok" and "No problem, we understand" from
the men, the mixture of voices making it hard to tell who said what.
They continued to crowd around her however, as I saw her step out of
the barely there thong, kicking it off into the corner.

	Now two men sank to their knees and began to worship her shaved pussy
and ass, one burying his nose and face between her legs as she stood
there and sighed in pleasure. The other had her ass cheeks spread and
was tounging the bottom of her slit and up her ass crack, his nose
resting against her asshole.

	Some of the men moved aside now and let these two enthusiastic
lackeys enjoy themselves, Christina fondling her tits with her hands
as she rocked slowly back and forth on her heels, her thick thighs
trembling slightly as she worked herself up towards orgasm.

	I continued to watch this scene with shock and amazement, unbelieving
that this good little girl would really let some strange men grope and
play with her without so much as even asking permission. Christina
gasped in pleasure as the man eating her pussy slowly pushed two
fingers into her slit, working them in and out slowly as the one who
had been eating her ass stood up and guided Christina's hands over her
own nipples, his large frame holding her against his chest.

	I suddenly noticed that Christina was staring at me, a slightly
puzzled look on her face.

	"Who is that?" she said in a snotty tone, raising her cherry red
fingernails and pointing them at me.

	The men again looked at me, then looked at Christina.

	"I don't know, some whore I guess," one of the guys said. The man
between her legs had even stopped now to look at me. If I hadn't been
so exhausted and physically out of it as I was, I would have made an
effort to cover myself or at least respond, but as it was, I could
only stare with a mixture of fear and embarassment over the looks I
was getting.

	"No, I've seen her before," Christina said. She began to walk towards
me, pushing away the man between her legs in a manner of annoyance.
Standing over me, I could smell her even from a few feet away - a
strong odor of sex and perfume, mingled with the smoky scent of the
room.

	"That's that Petty girl, the one who had a hit a few months back,"
Christina said, climbing onto the bed. She slinked towards me like a
cat. I laid back on the bed, unsure exactly what to do or say as she
positioned her body over me like I was some animal to be studied. The
men of the room came and crowded around the bed as well, standing all
around me as Christina studied me.

	"Yep, its definetely her, although she looks pretty used up," she
said. The rest of the room laughed and I couldn't help but cringe a
bit at my sad state.

	"What are you doing here, wanna be?"

	"I...I was brought here by...by uhh..."

	"Oh that's right, you signed with Antamount, just like me!" Christina
said, leaning back and slapping her forehead comically, again
illiciting a laugh from the room. "I bet she is just paying her dues,"

	"What do you mean?" I said, now able to think more clearly since I
could focus solely on her.

	"You had a hit, you vanished from the airwaves and now Antamount
wants to make sure they get the return money on their investment.
Happens to all of us girl, don't you know?"

	"They...they said something about that I think. I don't know," I
said, suddenly very ashamed of myself "I was kind of drugged up at the
time,"

	"Hey, who in Hollywood isn't?" Christina said. Again the crowd
laughed.

	"So wait, you had to do this too?" I asked.

	"Had to? Shit girl, once I got my first taste of whoring, I WANTED
to. That was the best thing that ever happened to me, finding out how
much I crave cock. Black cock, white cock, latin cock, I don't really
care. As long as its long and hard and can fuck me oh so good, I'm
there,"

	"But then why are you coming back here now? I thought you were back
in the spotlight again?"

	"I am you idiot, but you can't just turn that sort of thing off. Not
once you get craving the dick and the coke and all that. They got you
on H yet?"

	I was puzzled for a moment by what she meant, but then I nodded.
"Yeah, I think so. I didn't want it but it did feel good,"

	"Yeah, I know it does. I still like to taste it every now and then
but that shit will fuck you up something bad. Don't worry though, they
will only make you take it a few more times, you know, just to break
you in. But then its back to the good old stuff. Speaking of which,
you wanna do some lines?"

	The room was now waiting for my reaction, and once more I was faced
with the decision of caving in to my desires or trying to fight them
off. I doubt I really had much choice now, given the situation, but I
still wanted to feel some sembalance of control. Unable to resist
though, I nodded. Within moments, someone had brought over a mirror
and a straw, the lines already cut on it. Christina went first, then
held back my cum stained hair as I too inhaled some of the magic white
powder.

	"Good shit eh?" Christina said, rubbing her nose to get off any
excess. "Ain't nothing better than getting your cum on while you're
high. Speaking of which, they got you street walking yet?"

	"No...not yet," I said. "They said tomorrow,"

	"Well, just be careful girly cuz there are a bunch of crazies out
there who will cut you and shoot you and do whatever else they want
to, if you aren't careful. That's why they make us do it. Antamount I
mean. Nothing lost if we end up dead, but if we come back a-okay, its
money for them and plus we are totally willing to do whatever they
want us to,"

	"So you've done it before?" I asked, feeling again the dizzy calm
from the drugs. I noticed now too that Christina's face was only a few
inches from mine, her long blonde hair creating a curtain of sorts all
around our faces. I may have looked like shit, but even in the whorish
way that she wore her makeup, Christina looked beautiful.

	"Yep, where do you think I got the clothes for some of my videos? You
can't just buy that shit at the store ya know,"

	"I guess not," I said, suddenly aware of the nervousness I felt in
being out there on a street corner by myself, whenever they would do
it. Without thinking, this nervousness made me blurt out what I knew
had to be my true feelings.

	"I don't want to be a whore though Christina, I just want to go
home!"

	She laughed at me, this time with a bit more malice than her previous
jokes. It was a rather brutal kind of laugh/snicker, which she ended
with a snarl not unlike the one I had seen earlier.

	"Go home? Shit, you'll be lucky to get out of here alive. Just do
whatever they tell ya to and you may not get hurt too badly,"

	This was hardly reassuring, and Christina could clearly see that on
my face. She climbed off from me.

	"Tell ya what. I'm going to enjoy the services of Ben and Owen here.
Fellas, why don't the rest of you show Petty what she is going to have
in store for her over the next few weeks. Nice talking to ya Petty and
hey...enjoy yourself,"

	As soon as Christina was off the bed, the men converged on me like a
pack of jackals. Raising my arms to try and stop them, one of the
larger men used his heavy hand to backhand me openly across the face,
causing my lips to burn in pain and my body to rock violently on the
filthy bed. I opened my mouth in shock, but as soon as my lips parted,
a cock was immediately thrust into my mouth. Tears welling in my eyes,
I knew that my ordeal was really just beginning.




RACHAEL'S STORY:
	
	Step. Clunk. Step. Clunk. Step. Clunk.

	With every step I took down the long hallway, the heavy gun in my
purse clunked against the side of my hip, its weight a constant
presence to me, even though it really was small when held in your
hand.

	Opening the door to the reception area at Antamount, I nervously
approached the secretary out front.

	"Rachael Leigh Cook, here to see Mr. Hapsboro," I said. She glanced
at me for a second, then punched some keys on her keyboard.

	"Ok Rachael, go right on back. He's expecting you,"

	I nodded at her and smiled weakly as I turned the corner of the
hallway and headed into the den of the lion. Knocking on the door
softly, I heard a voice say "Come in". Turning the knob, I opened it
and stepped inside of Gordon Hapsboro's office.

	I had told myself that the best way to get what I needed - if there
was anything to get of course - was to play the whole thing like a
scene. That is, to act it out and pretend that the dialogue being said
between us was scripted, rather than spur of the moment. I normally
didn't like doing such a thing, but in this instance I found that it
calmed me a great deal, taking my mind off the fact that I could
seriously be risking my life now if I didn't watch what I said.

	"Have a seat Rachael," he said, motioning me from his desk, not to
mention startling me out of my daze. I approached his desk and took a
seat, but only on the edge - if something happened, I wanted to make
sure I could make a quick getaway.

	"What's on your mind," he said, not looking up from the stack of
papers on his desk. Glancing at them quickly myself, most looked like
gibberish to me, but one caught my eye. Off to the side, buried under
a pile of papers, was a red folder. Sticking out of the top corner of
it was a glossy photo, one that was unmistakably a long distance photo
of Alex. My heart, which had already been thudding loudly in my chest,
suddenly became a dull roar in my ears.

	"...said, what's up?" Hapsboro said now, looking up at me. I quickly
averted my eyes from the folder and met his gaze. He was studying me,
looking me over. Whether he caught me looking at the folder, I don't
know. I certainly didn't feel too good about my chances though.

	"I uh, came by to talk about my career," I said, spouting out the
first thing that came into my mind. Let the first act begin.

	He laughed at me, rising from his chair.

	"It's always about your careers," he said wistfully. "Care for a
drink Rachael?"

	"Um, sure," I replied. As he stood from the desk, I too stood up and
slowly began to saunter towards him. He was walking to the right of
his desk, his back to me as he approached the bar. I made my steps
methodically and slowly, watching his motions as he moved, careful
that he didn't see me move near the red folder.

	"You know, it's a funny thing that you mention your career Rachael,"
Hapsboro said as he poured some brandy into a pair of glasses. I
stopped in my tracks, achingly close to the desk. Leaning backwards
just as he turned around, I propped my hands up against the smooth
wood surface and thrust my body outwards toward him, in a sort of come
hither stance.

	"Oh really? Why is that?" I said, playing dumb, even though I was
nervous as hell.

	"Well, some of the other women that we represent, they haven't been
making too good of career choices lately,"

	I was going to respond with a follow up to that, but he continued
undetterred.

	"Yes, they have been rather careless in their activities away from
the studio," Hapsboro said as he walked towards me, handing me the
glass. I lifted one hand from the desk but kept my ass balanced
against it so as to conceal where I was leaning.

	"Cheers," he said. We clinked glasses and I took a small sip of the
strong liquor. Gordon, by contrast, downed it all in one gulp, his
lips smacking together appreciatively.

	"I do love an excellent brandy. You know, this Hollywood world is a
lot like a glass of excellent brandy. It burns you sometimes, but at
that moment right when it hits the pit of your stomach, it feels oh so
satisfying," he said. I noticed that he was watching me now just as
carefully as I was studying him.

	"I suppose so, though I'm not much of a drinker Mr. Hapsboro," I
replied, nerves creeping into my voice a bit.

	"Of course you aren't Rachael, that's because you are a good girl.
And that is exactly the problem with your career,"

	"What do you mean?"

	"You don't take enough risks Rachael. You aren't really putting
yourself out there to be seen,"

	I drank more of the brandy, mostly to calm my nerves. His comment
however, didn't do anything to squelch the turbulent feelings I had
inside. The scene intensifies.

	"I'm not so sure about that Mr. Hapsboro. I have been doing a lot of
indie films lately and,"

	"Oh, spare me the indie film bullshit. Some college kid with a camera
and a script his hippie girlfriend likes shoots a 'movie' and suddenly
he's a filmmaker? Please," he said. "Julia Roberts doesn't command $20
million a picture because she worked in indie films,"

	"Well, what do you suggest?" I asked, his body now just a few feet
from me as his cold eyes studied me. There was something piercing and
penetrating about his gaze, something that held you like a cobra,
something you couldn't look away from.

	"Risks. You know, putting yourself on the line," he said. My face
must have been a mask of confusion, because he became somewhat
frustrated. "Nudity Rachael. I'm talking about showing America the
goods,"

	He leaned forward, most likely to grope me with his hands, but I
stopped him in his tracks.

	"I'd like another glass please Mr. Hapsboro," I said sweetly, holding
my arm out as he was about to touch me.

	He stopped and smiled back. "Of course,"

	Turning his back again to refill our glasses, I knew this was my only
chance. Sliding down the desk slightly, I stole a brief moment, one
last look at the layout, hoping I could position myself for a
snatch-and-grab. Pushing my ass back against the desk, I extended my
hands out and groped blindly around, careful not to shuffle too many
papers - he was almost done with the refills.

	I felt my hand touch the smooth surface of a folder and, pulling it
towards me, lifted it up off the desk. Very very slowly, I moved it
against my back and held it there as he turned and began to approach
me again. As he neared, I slid my hand down my back and slid the
folder into my jeans, pushing it down past the waist band of my
panties and hooked my shirt just enough to pull it downwards over my
stashed contents.

	He was still on the nudity kick. "Take some risks Rachael. You may
not win an Oscar, but if 25 million people make it the number one
movie in the country, you can certainly make more money. And that's
good for all of us,"

	He handed me the glass and we clinked edges once more, this time both
of us downing the drink completely at the same time.

	"Thanks Mr. Hapsboro, I'll take that under advisement," I said, now
starting to back out of the room. I prayed and hoped that when I
turned around, he wouldn't see the odd square shape covering part of
my back.

	"You do that Rachael. Just don't take the wrong kind of risks. As I
said before, some of your colleagues took some bad risks and, well,
they are paying for it both financially and personally,"

	I wasn't sure that he was talking about Katherine, Mila and all the
rest before, but now there was no mistake in my mind. I also knew that
he, despite the words of Alex, probabaly knew I was in on it. If so
though, he was doing this scene perfectly. And now it was time to
bring the curtain down.

	I moved towards my seat and picked up my purse, careful to only show
him a side view of my body. Whether it was the drink or just his sheer
lechery, he was grinning at me in a way that made me feel very
uncomfortable now as I stumbled towards the door.

	"Thank...thank you for the drinks," I said. "And the advice. I hope
it helps if I get any more offers,"

	"It was my pleasure Rachael. Remember, Antamount is ALWAYS looking
out for the interests of its closest assets and associates,"

	As I stepped out of the room, this last line made me shudder in
disgust. Pulling the door behind me, I made a bee-line for the
elevator. I was dying to see what was inside that folder, and even to
make sure that it was the RIGHT folder, but this was not the time or
place, especially with the assured survelliance of the building.

	Every step I took, I was expecting to be accosted by security guards
or, worse, Gordon Hapsboro himself. But thankfully, I made it back to
my car and was on the main drag away from Antamount's office without
incident. Pulling off to a side road, I couldn't stand the nerves any
more. Reaching behind my back, I pulled out my secretly stashed
contents.

	It was the red folder alright, and as I leafed through the first
couple of pages, I suddenly gasped. Flinging the folder to the seat
next to me, I scrambled madly in my purse for my cell phone. I had to
call Alex, and NOW!


CONTINUED IN 2ND PART UNDER SAME HEADER NAME IN THIS ARCHIVE

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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