Alyx
The rich, as F. Scott Fitzgerald noted, are not like you and me. As
Hemingway famously replied, “Yeah, they have money.” But it’s not just money
that sets them apart, though possessing large amounts of money is a
prerequisite for engaging in the sort of activities which truly set the wealthy
apart from the rest of us. Flying privately owned jets, for example, or owning
plush vacation homes at ski resorts on multiple continents. Or belonging to the
Club on Dorado Cay, for instance.
Not many people, not even many quite wealthy people, know of the
existence of the Club on Dorado Cay. It has no existence in the public
consciousness or the public record. It has no name other than that informal
phrase which its members use to refer to it. “The Club on Dorado Cay.” Or
simply, “Dorado Cay.”
A very select clientele form the membership. A small group of dedicated
employees, many of them children or grandchildren of older employees, comprise
the very discreet staff. A very small number of highly paid lawyers watch out
for its legal requirements and a few well placed, and also well compensated,
government officials look after its interests.
Of the general public virtually no one knows of its existence, except for
a very, very few unfortunate individuals such as the one we shall refer to as
“Alyx”. We’ll call her that because that’s the name she gave herself as one of her
earlier acts of rebellion. Her parents gave her Alyssia. But she decided she
would be called Alyx.
On the evening when her unwilling journey to the Club on Dorado Cay
began Alyx had come back to one of her favorite liquor shops, in one of the
seedier parts of town. It was not one of her favorites because she could buy
there. She’d tried it, several times, and despite the disreputable appearance
of the place and her phony I.D. card they hadn’t wanted to take her money. She
was half-way through nineteen but still looked maybe sixteen and too many of
the stores in the area had been burned by sting operations to want to risk an
underage sale. But that didn’t mean there weren’t others around to assist her.
The clientele of the store were mostly pretty grungy looking characters,
the kind of people who go out to a liquor store at 1 or 2 am, and they weren’t
usually so fussy about breaking the liquor laws, especially for a cute young
thing like Alyx. She knew it was dangerous, trying to score a bottle in this
part of town this late at night, but she figured she could take care of
herself. She’d already had to punch a couple drunks who wanted more than money
for a bottle of peppermint schnapps and she thought she’d developed a good
sense now for who to ask and who to avoid. So she wasn’t too worried when she
approached a likely prospect, a decent looking guy dressed better than most and
made her pitch. But he surprised her.
“Christ, are you kidding me?” he said in a loud voice. “Buy you booze?
Get on home before I paddle your ass. Don’t you have school tomorrow or
something?”
But then he said in whisper “Meet me around the corner. Peppermint
Schnapps was it?” He winked at her.
She nodded and took off for the corner. Clever guy, she thought. Do the
transaction away from the prying eyes of the liquor store clerk. She walked
slowly, trying to look natural in case the clerk was watching, around the
corner. Once in the shadows of the alley she waited. A pity it wasn’t this easy
every time she tried to buy a bottle.
Minutes later he came around the corner carrying a brown paper bag.
Seeing her he smiled and pulled the bottle out part way, showed it to her, then
dropped it back into the bag and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” Alyx said. “How much do I owe you?”
“I was thinking,” he said, “we might barter for it.”
Uh, oh, she thought. Here it comes. Just another dirty old man. She briefly
weighed the idea of turning and running down the alley. But he might catch her.
He looked to be in much better shape than the usual dirty old bastards who
wanted to get into her pants. He also looked like he could get mean if he
wanted to. Better to find out just what he was thinking first. Maybe she could
bargain him down to a blowjob. It wouldn’t be the first.
“So, whatcha thinkin’?” she asked, trying to sound cool.
“Oh, nothing much, really,” he said. “I’m pretty much an ass man,
myself. I couldn’t help noticing how well you fill out your jeans. In back there.
Just fantastic. So here’s my deal. I give you the bottle. You slip those jeans
down just enough that I can get a good look at those beautiful buns of yours.”
He paused for a moment. “And you let me stroke them. Just a coupla strokes. I
just love the feel of a beautiful young lady’s silky smooth ass. Whaddaya say?”
Alyx thought about it. Takes all kinds, and as far as pervs went this
guy was nothing. And she was always short of cash. So what the heck. She turned
her back to him and started to loosen her belt.
“Sounds like a deal, mister.”
She lowered her jeans until she felt the belt slip under the curve of
her buttocks. She bent forward slightly, pushing her butt towards the man.
“Oh, God, that’s a beautiful pair of buns you’ve got. Just absolutely
fucking beautiful!”
He paused. She heard his breath coming faster. Was he jerking off, she
wondered.
“OK, don’t be startled, but I’m going to touch them now.”
She felt his hand brushing her right butt cheek. And then she felt a
sharp prick, like a hypodermic needle.
“What the fu...” she yelped, jerking upright. She turned to face the son
of a bitch, to see what he’d done, but her legs started to collapse beneath
her. Her eyes started to lose their focus. The last thing she heard before she
passed out was the sound of breaking glass as the bottle of peppermint schnapps
shattered on the pavement.
The next thing Alyx knew she seemed to be in a sitting position. Her
arms seemed to be up over her head, but she couldn’t think why they should be.
Her upper body seemed to be swaying slightly forwards and back. She raised her
head and opened her eyes. They didn’t seem to want to focus.
“She’s coming round.” Alyx heard a voice say.
“Good,” another voice, husky but still feminine, said. “Raise her up.”
Alyx felt a pull on her wrists and then she was being lifted up by her
arms. She tried to struggle onto her feet but she was still too shaky. As her
head started to clear she remembered that prick on her butt. The bastard had
drugged her! At first she was angry. But then she started getting scared. What
were they going to do to her?
She was on her feet, wobbling and swaying, and she felt the tugging
stop. She was almost off the floor, the balls of her feet just touching a cold
floor. She was barefoot. They’d taken her shoes off. Then with a start she
realized that not just her shoes were gone. She had been stripped naked.
Instinctively she tried to pull her legs up, to cross one leg over to shield
her sex, but her ankles were fastened to the floor.
“OK, let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Her eyes were focusing now and what she saw really pissed her off. The
sonuvabitch who had drugged her was at the far side of the room, a room that
looked like it was garage or workshop of some sort. He had his hand on the
crank handle of a winch and a smirk on his face. The cable that came off the
spool of the winch went straight for the ceiling above her. Even with her still
foggy brain Alyx could figure out the connection.
“Let me down, you asshole!” she screamed.
A second later she was seeing
stars and the left side of her face was stinging from a hard slap administered
by an unseen person.
“Quiet, or you’ll get even worse, my pet,” a voice said. It was the
feminine voice, one that seemed most likely to go with an older woman,
especially a woman who worked as a teacher in an inner city school or matron in
a facility for hard cases. It was that sort of no nonsense permitted voice.
Alyx, surprised and a bit intimidated, complied, letting herself hang limply.
“That’s better, my dear,” the voice said. “Yes, this one looks quite
promising.”
Hands traced the outline of Alyx’s body, felt the muscles of her legs
and arms. Alyx gasped slightly as they felt her buttocks, spreading her cheeks
as if her anus were being inspected. They reached around to feel her breasts,
lifting, then squeezing, then pulling on her nipples.
The examiner then stepped around where Alyx could see her. She matched
her voice, an older woman, dark gray flecked hair done in a short pageboy
style. She was a bit shorter than Alyx but stockier. Something in the way she
moved, the way she handled herself, told Alyx that beneath the conservatively
cut business suit was a body that was solid and well toned.
The woman’s eyes traveled up and down Alyx’s hanging form. It made Alyx
uncomfortable and she tried to look away, but the woman grasped Alyx under the
chin and looked her directly in the eye, then turned her head left and right.
“Very nice face. The black hair cut short like that sets off her fair
complexion nicely. Young looking, but very sexual. Her eyes show spirit. That’s
good.”
The woman’s hands fondled Alyx’s breasts again.
“Oh, these are lovely,” she said. “Don’t you just love the way they
stand out, so proud. No sag at all. Did you ever read Orwell’s ‘1984', Albert?”
“No, can’t say I have,” the man replied. He was obviously Albert, as
there appeared to be no one else in the room.
“Read it many, many years ago,” the woman said. “One phrase stuck in my
mind. The main character embraces his girlfriend. He feels her breasts through
the fabric of her blouse. They feel ’firm yet ripe’ to him. That phrase has
always stuck with me. And it describes our little friend here. These breasts
are firm yet ripe.”
She released Alyx’s breasts and reached into a pocket of her suit. She
brought out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. Then the woman knelt down
and spread Alyx’s sex, gently exposing her inner secrets.
“Not a virgin, of course,” she said, “but then who is anymore. Still,
very nice, neat. Very attractive little flower here.”
She retracted the clitoral hood, exposing the little pink nubbin. Deftly
she began to lightly tease the sensitive organ with just the tip of her finger.
In spite of herself, in spite of the situation Alyx began to react to the
unwanted attention, a fact not lost on the woman.
“Excellent,” she said. “A good, strong libido. Just what we like.”
She stood up, peeling off the gloves.
“Yes, just delightful,” she said. “I must hand it to you, Albert. You’re
a fine judge of horseflesh. Or should I say girlflesh. She’ll do just fine. I
believe we have a deal.”
Good God! Alyx thought. She was being sold.
“I knew we would the first time I saw her,” Albert replied.
Alyx took a good look at the man’s face. She remembered now. Several
times in the last month she’d had the feeling someone was following her. It had
been him. He’d dressed very differently each time. Worn sunglasses, hats,
baseball caps to disguise his face. But she’d had enough glimpses of him that
now it all fit together. The son of a bitch had been stalking her. Why she
hadn’t recognized him outside the liquor shop baffled her. In too much of a
hurry to get a buzz on, she guessed.
The woman stepped back, reached inside her suit jacket and withdrew a
manila envelope. She walked to Albert and handed it too him. He took it, opened
it and pulled out a stack of bills. He counted them quickly.
“Bingo,” he said. “Right on the mark. Always a pleasure doing business
with the Club.”
He pocketed the cash.
”And now I can collect the rest of my finder’s fee?” Albert asked.
“Yes, but mind you, don’t damage the goods.”
“You know me, Syl,” Albert replied. “I’ll be gentle.” He laughed, a
repulsive snorting sort of laugh and approached Alyx. He bent down next to Alyx’s right leg and
unfastened the tie. He was careful to position himself where she couldn’t
easily kick at him. Then he went around to her left and undid the other leg.
Having freed her legs the man now stood in front of her, a safe distance away
of course. He began to remove his belt. His face had taken on an evil grin.
Crap! Alyx though to herself. He’s going to rape me. She’d experienced a
couple situations during her partying that might, in the most literal sense, be
considered rape. She didn’t like it, more for the loss of control she felt than
anything else. Alyx liked to think she was in control of her little world and
right now it was very clear she wasn’t.
But instead of dropping his pants Albert doubled the leather belt in one
hand and began slapping the loop thus formed against the other hand. He stepped
closer to Alyx. Seeing where his eyes were focused she suddenly realized what
he had in mind.
“No!”She screamed, “Not...”
But before she could get the words out the belt was slicing through the
air and impacting against her left breast. Albert wound up again while Alyx was
still screaming and delivered a similar blow to the right breast. Then he
walked around behind her. She braced herself.
The blows came fast and hard against her butt cheeks. Alyx’s arched her body
forward to try to escape the bite of the leather. Her legs began to flail in
the air in a mindless, wild effort to escape. She was grateful when she heard
the woman say “Ok, Albert, that’s enough.”
“Just one more,” Albert said.
He walked around in front of Alyx. She watched him with dread, her ass
still throbbing from the beating he’d given it.
He stepped off seven or eight feet in front of her. He let the tip of
the belt drop, holding it just below the buckle. He began to swing it slowly
back and forth, then a little faster and a little faster. Then suddenly the tip
of the belt was lashing out for her like a deadly brown snake, sinking its
fangs into her mound just above her slit. In reaction she thrust her ass
backwards, away from the pain. As she did so she felt a prick on her left
buttock. She barely had time to realize what had been done when all faded to
blackness.
Kris
It was quite late when Kris set off for home. She was going to be really
late getting there. Not that Richard would notice since he wouldn’t be there
anyway. Working out of town today, he’d said. Going to stay over until
tomorrow. Yeah, right.
Kris knew all about Richard and all those nights he’d had to work late and
all those trips out of town to see clients. It took her a long time, but
eventually she figured it out. She’d been so naive, for so long! Not anymore,
she told herself. Naive, trusting, gullible Kris didn’t live here anymore.
There was a new Kris in town and she wasn’t taking any more shit from Richard.
Never marry a lawyer, her cousin had told her. And some of her friends
had even backed that up. But she went ahead and married Richard anyway. And why
not. He was handsome, successful, had a beautiful home in the best neighborhood
in town. He belonged to all the right clubs and had a wallet with all the right
credit cards, not to mention a wad of cash that could choke a horse.
And he was a goddamned philanderer.
And not just once. Who knew how many there had been before she got
suspicious and had him followed. Based on what she knew of his activities in
just the last year, if he’d been keeping up that pace during the whole twelve
years of their marriage he’d screwed his way through an entire village by now.
So Kris had vowed to show him. She would get revenge on him. A very
public divorce with all the dirty laundry put on display would show the world
what a pig he was. And she would take him for every cent and every precious thing
she could.
But she knew she had to be careful, very careful. Richard was smart and
well connected. So she found a lawyer in the next town to take her case. It
wouldn’t do to have Richard find out what was up. She wanted Richard to undergo
his very own personal Pearl Harbor.
She’d had one meeting with the lawyer, last week, and turned over the
evidence the detective had accumulated. He was impressed. He’d called her to
set up another meeting tonight. Things were looking good, he said, but he was
concerned with Richard finding out. He even recommended that she be evasive,
not take the freeway. He gave her directions to follow back roads. If anyone
was following her it should be obvious. It seemed like a bit much to her, but
then she didn’t want to take any chances so she followed his advice.
So, after the meeting, she found herself driving home late that night,
again on the back road route the lawyer recommended.
She was about halfway back to her home town when without any warning the
engine of the Jaguar suddenly cut out. It didn’t really surprise her, though.
Friends had warned her about buying a Jag. Just not reliable, they said, and
they’d been right. Just like they’d been about Richard.
She coasted to a stop at the side of the road. She put the transmission
in park and tried to start the engine. It turned over but wouldn’t catch. She
fished in her purse for her cell phone. She had the number for the AAA towing
service programmed in the phone, but
just as she was about to dial it a yellow tow truck passed her. She thought
about flashing her lights to try and get his attention but before she could the
truck had already slowed and pulled over. Then it backed up to the Jag.
A tall, lanky man in grease stained overalls stepped out of the cab and
walked back to Kris’ car. She rolled down the window.
“Got a problem, ma’am?” he asked with a faintly Southern drawl.
The overalls, the drawl, the five o’clock shadow all made Kris wonder if
she’d found her way into the old Andy Griffith show. She instantly thought of
the tow truck driver as Gomer.
“The engine just cut out on me all of a sudden,” Kris said, “and it
doesn’t seem to want to start.”
“Well, I’ll just take a quick look at it and then if’n I can’t get it
goin’ we’ll just tow it back to the shop. Hey, this is my lucky day. I’m just
comin’ back from a job and I get a two-fer. Can’t beat that.”
Kris pulled the hood release and Gomer raised the hood. He poked around
for a minute or two, then stuck his head out from beneath the hood.
“Ma’am,” he asked, “you got any fancy anti-theft devices on this car?”
“No, nothing that I know about,” she replied. “It’s just like it came
from the dealer, except for the alarm.”
“Oh, then you gotta see this, ma’am,” he called to her. “I don’t know
who’s been workin’ on your car, but I wouldn’t go back to him again if I was
you. Somethin’ mighty funny going on here.”
Kris got out of the car and stepped to where the mechanic was leaning
over the fender. He was holding a flashlight, aiming it down to illuminate
something low in the engine compartment.
“You see that down there?” he asked when Kris leaned over next to him.
“I really don’t know much about engines,” Kris said, “I won’t really
know what I’m looking at.”
“You know what that is?” he asked with a chuckle. “No, ‘course you
don’t. But you see that hose that comes in one side of that box and out the
other? That’s your fuel line. That there little box is a fuel cut-off. Now
maybe that was put there as parta some kinda anti-theft device and that’s just
fine. Except this one looks like it’s got a radio thingee hooked up to it. Like
it’s rigged up so’s someone with a remote control can cut off your gas by
flippin’ a switch. Now why would they put somethin’ like that in your car?
Beats all, don’t ?”
Kris looked but had no idea what he meant. Suddenly she felt a prick on
her left thigh, as if she’d bumped into a sharp wire or a thorn. She started to
say something but then her legs began to collapse beneath her and she felt
drowsy and everything started to fade. The last thing she felt was her body
sliding down the fender of the Jag.