"Iwana Binder, you need yourself a MAN!"
That pronouncement came from Esther Wattley, a quite large, but still quite striking black woman in her forties or so, who was sitting at her supervisor's desk in the SFPD's Bureau of Criminal Information on the 3rd floor of the Hall of Justice.
Iwana sat next to her, drinking coffee and trying to keep a straight face.
"Now I have nothing against girl-to-girl lovin'," Esther continued. "Hell, when I was in the AKA sorority at Morehouse, I had me a sweet lil thang for four years! She was prime stuff too! But to paraphrase the Bible, 'When I was a girl, I did girls... But when I became a woman, I put away my girlish ways'."
"That in the Bible?"
"I was paraphrasin', honey," Esther said. "Just remember, that there are some things in this world that only a man can do..."
"Yeah," Iwana said. "Like leave you high 'n dry with a bun in the oven an' two rug rats crawlin' the floor, after he's cleaned out yo' bank account and taken the car!"
"That's kind of a worse case scenario, honey," Esther said. "The fact it happened to me, don't mean it's gonna happen to you!"
"You wanna help me or not?"
Esther sighed. "What's the name of this lil white girl you so hot for?"
"Roper, Tai Anne. Here's her California DL number." She handed her Tai's license, which Esther entered into the computer on her desk. "How often are these things updated?"
"Two hours after the end of every shift," she replied. "If yore honeybuns got herseff in trouble anytime before noon today, she'll be in here." She grinned. "And there she be!"
"Talk to me."
"Looks like at 5:24 pm yesterday, she got a ticket for doin' 90 mph in the Broadway Tunnel, ridin' east on a Honda Thunderhawk moto'cycle."
"That's mah sisahgrrl!" Iwana growled. "Who tagged her?"
"3-Mary-17. That be a motorcop, Badge 3753, patrol officer named G.K. Sweet. Works Central Division Stationhouse on Vallejo. Says here he's workin' the 8 to 4 shift today. You might be able to catch him end-of-shift if'n you wanna chat him up."
Iwana glanced at her watch, it was 3:26 pm. "Anything else?"
"Nope."
"Run a search on the Criminal Occurance logs for the last 24 hours," Iwana asked.
"Keywords?"
"Female, Asian, late teens to early twenties, dressed in black cycle leathers or a little black dress."
"Grrrrrl... what have you got yoreseff into!"
"Just run it."
"Okey-dokey. Got three hits. A bikerbabe in leather got her jaw busted in Chinatown around 10pm..."
"Nope."
"A hooker got picked up by Vice at the Mark Hopkins around 2am..."
"Go on."
"Last one is kinda strange," Esther said. "Last night at 11:21 pm, a 350 pound gang banger got brought into the Mt. Zion ER. Had a ruptured testicle, a dislocated jaw and five missing teeth..."
"Sounds promising, go on."
"Coupla detectives workin' the Anti-Gang Unit started quizzin' the two bangers who brought him in. When these two realized they might be arrested for beatin' him up, they came clean, and alleged that a young, Asian 'hottie' in a 'killah black dress', assaulted this guy. Says they offered her a ride and she 'kung-fuied his black ass'."
"Where did this happen?"
"Union Street, just shy of Leavenworth."
"That be Russian Hill," Iwana muttered. "And not that far from the Broadway Tunnel." She grinned at Esther. "Thanks, Sistah!"
Anytime, honey."
***
Paige Torne walked the empty halls of Slave Labour Productions, wondering where the hell everyone had disappeared off to. It was a slow Sunday, and while she was no slave driver --well, maybe-- there was still work to do, videos and DVDs to ship and paysites to manage.
She had been gone for an hour or so, talking to Kunta and Taffy on their cellphone over what had happened out by Point Arena. Eva had a Mendocino County Sheriff's cruiser out at the lighthouse now, but there were no signs of the punks who had tried to take Jessica.
Paige breezed through the empty control room for Slave Labour Productions, and went on to the adjoining dressing room where she came across a crowd of a half dozen scantily clad women --both professional bondage models and regular employees-- having a hardcore lesbian orgy of truly Sapphic proportions.
"Alright, what in the name of Irving Klaw is going on in here!" Paige shouted.
Everybody stopped what they were doing and looked at Paige, except for the bound and rubbered Tai Anne Roper who still had her face deep into the trimmed bush of a bondagette named Rachel Payne.
"Heeya, Boss!" Kira said weakly. She had a small camcorder in her hands and was filming the action. "Thought we'd put in a lil overtime..."
"Okay, everybody get cleaned up and outta here!" Paige said. There was a chorus of moans and groans that reminded Paige of a bunch of kids finding out the candy store was closing. "Now!"
Rachel Payne allowed herself to slip over into another gusher of an orgasm and then got reluctantly up, giving Tai a sloppy farewell kiss.
As the crowd cleared Paige went to Tai Anne Roper. Despite her best efforts, Paige found herself instantly wet.
Tai was on her knees, now wearing a high-necked leotard of skintight red latex with black piping. It had long sleeves and was cut high on the thighs. Her hands were behind her, crossed and secured wrists to elbows with thick black rubber straps. Matching, thigh-high red latex stockings with a black stripe down each side completed the look down to her crossed and bound ankles
Her hair was ponytailed out the back of a red and black latex hood that left her face free.
Emblazened across the forehead of the hood, and across her firm, rubbered breasts were the words SEXTOY.
Tai Anne Roper was completely and utterly soaked from head to feet with girljuice. Her latex 'tard was slick and shiny with the stuff. Paige sat down before her and held her face. "You okay, darlen'?"
Tai looked at her with dilated eyes that kept trying to roll to the back of her head. She tried to speak and dribbed girlcum down her chin. Around her neck, a dangling red rubber ballgag was begging to be used.
Paige kissed her. She realized then that there was something very dangerous about Tai Anne Roper. That somehow this young and vivacious girl brought out the most evil and carnal thoughts of whomever she met.
Including herself.
***
Iwana Binder waited in the parking lot of the Central Division Stationhouse as the cops came in for their shift change. She had a Visitor's ID and her LAPD badge out. It had become a sunny, if not blustery afternoon.
She had made good time in the drive over from the Hall of Justice. It had taken barely five minutes to shake the tail Briggs had no doubt ordered.
At last a leather-jacketed motorcop roared in on a Kawasaki 1000 Police Special. The watch commander had already told her about Officer Sweet.
Iwana strode up to her as she took off her helmet, allowing her long, pony-tailed hair to fall free.
"Are you Sweet?" Iwana asked.
"Sometimes," The motorcop took off her RayBans revealing flinty gray eyes and a strong, intense face. "Depends on what kind of day I'm having."
Iwana grinned and held out her hand, instantly liking her. "Iwana Binder, LAPD."
She shook her hand. "Gwen Sweet. What can I do for you?"
"Yesterday you pulled over a friend o' mine for speeding thru the Broadway Tunnel..."
"A sweet young thang in skintight black leather with baby brown eyes," Sweet replied. "She's a hard one to forget."
"Tell me about it. Her name be Tai Anne Roper, and she's a private investigator outta LA," Iwana said. "She's also mah best friend. And now she's missing."
"Really." Sweet's face turned serious. She unzipped her jacket and placed her gauntlets in her helmet.
"Ah was just wondering if you could tell me anything that might assist me in finding her," Iwana said. "Maybe something she said or did..."
"Well, nothing comes to mind from when I gave her the ticket," Sweet said. "But I did happen to spot her later that same night. That is, last night."
"Where?" Iwana felt her heart flip-flop.
"A nightclub called The Brickyard. It's a BDSM fetish club in the SoMa, takes up a whole block around Folsom and 7th. Huge place. I was there around midnight with my husband, and spotted your Ms. Roper at the bar, downing drinks like there was no tomorrow. At first I thought she was with another girl, but by the time I got down there she was by herself."
"What did you say to her?"
"I told her she was leavin'! I knew she was only 19 and 21 is the legal drinking age here in The City." Sweet shrugged. "Then she gave me this story how she was a PI, looking for that girl who disappeared... Jessica somebody."
"Jessica McClintock."
"That's the one. And she had a hot lead on finding her there at The Brickyard." Sweet sighed. "So, I told her to stick to ginger ales and asked if she needed backup. She said no, so I went back to my hubby and our pitcher of Coors. Please tell me I didn't fuck up."
"No, this wasn't your fault, Officer," Iwana replied. "Did you see her after that?"
"Well, we were up on the second level at a table, and I did see her being led across the dancefloor by one of the employees of the club. I don't know her name, but I've seen her at The Brickyard before."
"Can you describe her?"
"Female, black, very dark-skinned. Six foot four. Hundred aaaaaand... fifty-five pounds, and every bit of it muscle. Broad shoulders, and muscles, muscles everywhere! Wearing a tight leather vest and leather mini."
Iwana was writing all this down. "You wouldn't by chance have seen an Asian girl? Five foot nothing, short spikey hair, wearing fetish gear?"
"You just described the girl your friend walked in with to a T," Sweet said. "But like I said, she disappeared by the time I got to her."
"Grrrreat," Iwana growled. "What was Tai Anne wearing when you saw her there?"
Oh, man!" Sweet grinned. "A skintight, glossy black latex sheath dress! Really dressed to thrill, if you know what I mean."
"Oh yeah," Iwana replied. "Anything else you can think of?"
"Nope, other than The Brickyard has always seemed to be a very cleanly run operation. No drugs or underage stuff. A lot of the BDSM scenes are pretty rough trade, but it's all consentual."
"You've been a big help," Iwana said. "Thank you very much." She paused. "Look, its possible that an investigator from the SFPD might show up and ask you about this case..."
"I'll tell him the same thing I told you, Ms. Binder," Sweet said. "I am a cop, first and always."
"Understood. But..."
"But, I won't call them. They'll have to come to me. Satisfied?"
"Yeah." Iwana smiled. "Again, thanks for the time."
"De nada."
Iwana started back to her pickup. She was only a few blocks away from Union and Leavenworth. Should she take the time to check out that lead, or head right on over to this "Brickyard" and bust some heads?
Decisions, decisions.
***
"I'm really not hungry, Paige," Tai said.
"I don't doubt that," Paige replied. "But you need something in your tummy a little more nutritious than girljuice, so here."
Tai accepted a big spoonful of homemade chicken noodle soup that was indeed delish.
They were sitting at a kitchen table, in a fairly realistic set for a kitchen that also doubled as a break room for the employees of Slave Labour. Tai's arms were still strapped behind her back, but Paige had removed the ankle straps and the vibrating dildo. Tai still wore the red and black latex leotard that labeled her SEXTOY.
"You sure you're okay?" Paige asked.
"Um hum." Tai nodded as she took another spoonful from Paige. "When can I have sex with you?"
Paige blinked. "You always this subtle?"
"Do you want subtlety?" Tai replied.
"Not really," Paige replied. She took another careful spoonful and fed it to her. "Fact is, I think you're a hot little bitch. And if you don't watch it, I might decide to keep you for myself."
Tai groaned and looked at Paige with wanton, hungry eyes. She wiggled in her chair, pulling at her bound arms so that her erect nipples frictioned against her tight latex top.
"Weeeeeell! So much for lunch!" Paige got up and took Tai by the arm. "Com'n, I think it's time I introduced you to Mr. Wigglesworth."
***
Dr. Fiendly and Fannikins Wenche waited in the standard Old Deserted Warehouse, located on a pier just off the Embarcadero. They had been dropped off there by the FBI agents who had sprung them.
"What now, Fiendly?" The Wenche whined.
"We wait." He replied, carefully cleaning the bore of his Broomhandle Mauser with a gun cleaning kit from his black bag.
"I'm gonna kill that fuckin' black bitch!" The Wenche kicked at the concrete with her boot. "Tying me up like that..."
"Temper, Wenche," Fiendly said gently. "Besides, there are far better vengences than the finality of 'omerta'." He paused. "I think... a lifetime as a slavegirl to a rich and powerful white man in a Louisiana plantation might be far more satisfying fate for the beautiful Sergeant Binder."
"And what about the Roper cunt?"
Fiendly sighed and pushed a stripper clip into his pistol, working the bolt. "She has gotten in our way one to many times, dear Wenche. If fate has decreed that she be the fly in our ointment, then so be it. I'm afraid our next meeting will be our last."
The squeal of tires echoing off of pavement got their attention, as a silver Lincoln Towncar and a black Chevy Suburban turned off the street and rocketed across the empty expanse of concrete towards them.
"Remember to smile, Wenche," Fiendly said.
"Always, Fiendly."
The two vehicles squealed to a halt before them. From the Towncar the man known as Samarkand exited. He was dressed in an expensive, black Armani suit jacket and pants, and Euro styled buttondown shirt. His red fez and dark glasses made him look as dashing as ever.
From the Suburban came The Marquis, in a grey Pierre Cardin suit and wearing his rose colored pince-nez. Getting out of the rear doors were the four punks who had tried to grab Jessica McClintock a few hours ago. They wore baggy jeans, dirty tee shirts and smelled bad.
"So once again, it is necessary to spring you two from the 'hoosegow'," Samarkand said by way of a greeting. "First Miami, now here. I should tell you that Mr. Weskler is not a man of *unlimited* political capital."
"That is a polite way of telling you two that if there is a third time, you can rot behind those bars," The Marquis said.
"Nice to see you too," Fiendly said. He didn't appreciate being taken down in front of those leering punks. He nodded at them. "And what are they doing here?"
"A couple of hours ago, Madamoiselle Torne's people snatched young Jessica up from the safehouse up the coast. Henry and his... associates, tried to stop them. They failed."
"You idiots," Fiendly said to the punks. "I gave you orders to *follow* them if they tried to move Jessica from the lighthouse!"
"Hey man, we tried our best." The young punk named Henry said defensively. "Some nigger bitch with a goddamn cannon blew up our rides!"
With a surprising suddeness, The Marquis lashed out at Henry with a backhanded strike across the face. "Fool! Watch that insolent mouth! I have told you before I will not suffer your ignorant racist proclivities!"
Fiendly suppressed a smile. The Marquis would think nothing of kidnapping an innocent girl and selling her into a life of sexual servitude, but heaven forbid an off-colour remark made by some hired goon.
"That's what you get when you hire your muscle out of the White Aryan Resistance," The Wenche said. She looked over the punks with distaste. "Idaho nazis... I *hate* Idaho nazis!"
"That is enough of that," Samarkand said. He looked at Fiendly. "It isn't all young Henry's fault. He tried contacting you when he saw them, but you had already been arrested."
"Perhaps we should've risked an assault on the lighthouse after all," The Marquis said. "Now we have no idea where she is!"
"Jessica is no good to anybody dead," Samarkand replied. Again he looked at Fiendly. "What about it? Any idea where Paige Torne will hide her next?"
"She has a half dozen safehouses in The City and scattered up and down the coast," Fiendly replied. "But after Henry's little debacle, she'll probably decide to keep her close and safe at The Brickyard. It's what I would do. That place is built like Hitler's bloody bunker!"
"You do still have your 'mole' within Madamoiselle Torne's organization, oui?" The Marquis asked.
"Yes, but our contact was damned nervous giving up the info about Jessica being at the lighthouse." Fiendly shook his head. "The failed attempt to take her might make our contact want to rabbit."
"Then give your contact something to make it worth her --or his-- while," Samarkand said. He tossed the keys to the Towncar to Fiendly. "This is your new chariot. It's a rental, but try to keep it out of harm's way. Our expenditures for this operation are already through the roof."
Fiendly nodded and together he and his Wenche got into their new car and squealed away.
After they left, Henry and his punks turned to Samarkand. "What about us?" Henry asked.
"You work for me now," Samarkand answered. "I give the orders and I pay the money."
"Whatever," Henry shrugged.
"In a couple of hours, someone is going to be arriving at San Francisco International Airport," Samarkand said. "Your job is to find her, and take her out before she gets to The City."
"Another kidnapping?"
"A simple assassination," The Marquis replied. "Just kill her. Even an Idaho nazi ought to be able to handle that. And try not to get caught."
"And not a word of this to Fiendly or his woman," Samarkand said. "He wouldn't have the stomach for this."
"You'll take the Suburban," The Marquis said. "There are guns in the back. I suggest you go to your motel and get your filthy selves cleaned up. And use a stolen car for the takedown."
Samarkand tossed Henry a manila envelope. "All your info is in there. Including her flight number and a picture. She isn't armed, and doesn't have any friends in The City."
"So who's the bunny?" Henry asked, opening the envelope.
"A BBC reporter named Drew Thrasher," Samarkand said. "She's quite the celebrity."
"Never heard of her." Henry picked his nose. "But we'll do her."
Henry and his posse got into the Chevy Suburban and took off, leaving Samarkand and the Marquis in the warehouse.
"You do not really think those idiots can accomplish their task?" The Marquis asked incrediously.
Samarkand chuckled as he took out his Ericsson cellphone. "I doubt seriously if they could kill Miss Thrasher if they were armed with hand grenades and locked in a closet with her." He spoke into the phone. "Hello, Charmer? Bring the car." He clicked off. "Still, it might scare her off. It will be amusing to see what comes of this."
The Marquis turned as a long, black Cadillac Escalade stretch SUV rolled silently into the warehouse and up to them. A hulking, dangerous looking man in a chauffeur's suit and cap got out.
"Ah, Charmer!" Samarkand said. "I do hope you picked up some brunch for The Marquis and myself."
"Gotcha some of that Belugr' caviar y'like, Guv!" Charmer replied in an East Ender patois. "Also iced down a few bottles of champagne and picked up a coupla mallrats down at the Sony Metreon."
He opened one of the rear doors of the stretch Escalade. Inside, the interior was all black leather and one-way glass. Squirming in the back were two ripe looking Britney/Christina wannabes in tight, hip hugger jeans and crop tops. Both were secured with plastic cord ties at wrists, elbows, ankles and knees. They were drooling on each other from the massive red rubber ballgags secured in their mouths.
"Charmer, what are we paying you?" The Marquis asked. He held up a hand before he could answer. "Never mind, whatever it is, consider it doubled."
Samarkand and The Marquis climbed into the back of the limo. Charmer ran around to the driver's side and took off, leaving the old warehouse again deserted.
***
Paige Torne's bedroom was every bit as opulent and show-offy as Tai had imagined it would be. It was located down another long, secret corridor of the cavernous Brickyard.
A four poster, Queen sized bed with black satin sheets and pillows galore dominated the room. There was also a luxurious, tiled bathroom, a walk-in closet loaded with both designer outfits and fetishwear, and a makeup vanity in one corner.
The walls were all paneled in rich, California redwood, and a state of the art, Sony entertainment center with a flat screen monitor, DVD and surround sound stereo system took up a wall all by itself.
Tai got the tour before Paige backed her up against one of the bed posts and secured her to it with a wide leather strap about her neck.
Paige then slipped the ballgag back into Tai's mouth and tightened the strap. "It's not that I don't want to hear you," Paige husked. "It's just that you look too damned yummy with that rubber filling your mouth." She smirked. "'Sides, in about a minute or so you're gonna need something to bite down on."
Paige removed her clothes, revealing alabaster skin and a firm, toned body. Full breasts, a tight tummy, nice ass and mile long legs.
"And now for Mr. Wigglesworth," Paige said.
From a drawer of her vanity, Paige removed a very large,multi-hued dildo that seemed to be filled with a gel. It seemed to wiggle in Paige's hands of it's own volition. Besides its colorations, it bore no physical resemblance to a male member. Not with the numerous... protrusions and... ribbings.
"Mr. Wigglesworth!" Paige said, holding it before Tai's wide, glassy eyes. "I think it's time the two of you become intimately acquainted."
Paige knelt down before Tai and parted her still glistening thighs and slipped the latex leotard panty to one side of Tai's plump cunt. She was still good and gushy, and Paige was able to slip the entire length of Mr. Wigglesworth up into Tai, hard and tight and deep.
Paige snapped the panty back into place over her cunt and eased up, watching Tai bite hard into her rubber ball as she wiggled and flexed her hips. It was there to stay.
"Mr. Wigglesworth is a very special boy," Paige said. "He's made of several different gels that react to each other like oil and water, causing a constant shifting effect as it... expands and contracts."
Tai's first orgasm hit her fairly fast and hard. She pounded the post she was strapped to with the back of her head. She was already drooling.
"It's like being slow fucked," Paige said. "Constantly and relentlessly. No batteries to wear out either. I've sometimes wondered what would happen if Mr. Wigglesworth ever overstayed his welcome inside a girl." Paige locked her dangerous blue eyes with Tai. "Madness? Or maybe the girl would just become a mindless, rubbery sextoy."
Paige unbuckled the strap holding Tai to the bedpost and took her new toy to bed.
Chapter Eighteen