CHAPTER 1
The store, its shelves and tables cluttered with every conceivable form of trinket,
smelled of plastic and leather.
Jack Wilson thought the leather scent was stronger, and for good reason. Ball
gags, submission helmets, and silver chains dangled from shiny metal hooks sticking out of
pegboards fastened to the wall. Leather harnesses, whips, straps, and accessories made
from rawhide and cowhide hung from racks suspended from the rafters.
It reminded Jack a little of that feed store he used to go to when he was dating
Carla a year or so ago. Carla was an equestrienne who competed in all sorts of horse
events. She was always on the prowl for saddles and pads, and kept several pairs of
expensive English riding boots and half a dozen pairs of thick rubber muck boots in her
closet.
Good thing she was a top saleswoman with her company and pulled in nearly six big
ones a year.
The feed store had the same racks and hooks bolted into its walls as this place.
It even had a similar rack suspended from the rafters. But instead of bridles and lead
ropes and muck buckets hanging from hooks and rings, this place stocked accoutrements to
decorate and control a smaller, much different type of filly.
The store’s name, House of Kink, Incorporated, said it all. It handled toys and
gadgets for every conceivable kind of sexual activity. It provided hot entertainment for
a hot evening--or a series of hot evenings--to be shared and enjoyed with a wild,
adventurous female. The single, most difficult part of the program was finding a woman
who actually enjoyed subjecting herself to the humiliation resulting from these highly
extreme activities.
Not too many females working in the executive offices liked getting down and dirty
with a guy who worked in the Mailroom. The babes Jack dealt with enjoyed long, romantic
cruises . . . and evenings on the beaches . . . and extended weekends at a time-share in
Vegas . . . or Bermuda . . . or Belize . . . in the company of a rich, resourceful
executive, of course.
Jack wandered over to a metal apparatus called the “Love Machine.” A weird-looking
contraption, to be sure. Looked like a bunch of oversized handlebars soldered to one
another at weird angles. Two bicycle-sized leather seats were fastened to its center.
The instruction manual stuck to the wall behind it showed a shitload of positions a couple
could enjoy on it, most of which he’d never seen before. The only one that looked like it
wouldn’t hurt was the one where the chick lay on her back with the small of her back on
one seat, her legs spread and her feet in the stirrup attachments, as in a doctor’s
office. The guy could kneel or sit on the lower seat in front of her and chow down on her
pussy or simply stand, grip the offered bars, and fuck her.
Using this machine without reading the instructions could cause you to spend some
time and serious cash with the chiropractor for the next few weeks.
“Anything turn ya on?”
Jack turned.
The salesman was short and broad, looked like he might be around seventy, his curly
white hair thinning on top. He also sported thick mutton-chop sideburns and a burly white
mustache. He wore the sort of apron you’d expect to see on a hardware clerk carrying
around nails, pencils, and a measuring tape.
Jack wondered what this old boy had in those pockets. Nipple clamps? A pussy
ring?
“Looks like you got just about everything the average pervert could want in this
place.”
“Lots of folks go for this stuff,” the old boy said. “Some ain’t even perverts.”
“What’s wrong with being a pervert? I’ve been one for years.” Jack kept his tone
light. He knew to be careful about saying anything really stupid. Last time he was in
one of these places, he’d asked the female cashier if she could demonstrate one of the
peter pumps on display. He’d not only pissed her off, he was asked to leave the premises
by her boyfriend, who owned the place.
The clerk grinned, showing off his dentures, which looked like two neat rows of
Chiclets. “Need any help, don’t hesitate. Just hunt me down.”
“Got a minute?” Jack’s curiosity was about to burst.
The clerk shuffled right back.
“You’ve got a lot of toys here.”
“Just about everything. Want something ya don’t see? We don’t have it in the
back, we’ll try’n get it. Let us know, we’ll get in touch with our Scandinavian buds.
Scandinavians?” He chuckled. “They got everything. And I mean everything.”
“That’s cool. Really cool.” Jack glanced around. No one was close, so there was
no reason why he should be skittish about this. But he still found himself a little
uneasy when searching for the right way to ask.
“What’s on your mind, boy?”
“This stuff you’ve got here. . .”
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay--I mean, it’s really great. It’s great if . . . if you’ve got a
dynamite babe who’s interested in this kind of thing.”
“Yeah. . .”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is this. You can have all the cool sex toys in the
world, but if your babe isn’t into any of that--“
The clerk nodded.
“You know what I’m saying, don’tcha?”
“Sure do. Yup. Sure as hell do. . .”
Jack shrugged. “Got anything . . . for that?”
“For what?”
“You know. Get her in the mood. Make her more . . . adventurous. Lower her
inhibitions. Something that’ll turn her on and make her want to see how much fun she can
really have.”
“Ya mean, like KY? They sell that stuff at--“
“I don’t mean anything like that. I guess what I mean is. . .” Jack glanced
around. They were still alone. “Something . . . stronger?”
“Stronger?”
“Yeah.”
The clerk blinked. He put his hands on his hips. “Y’ain’t talking about that date
rape drug, are ya? That pill they feed the ladies at those RAVE clubs?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Good.” The clerk scowled. “We don’t carry that kinda stuff here. Ain’t right
--know what I mean?”
“It’s not legal.”
“That ain’t why we don’t have it, boy. It’s mean. Nasty. Lady’s out cold. What
good’s that?”
“I know. I’d never do that.” Last time Jack had bought something like that, the
girl got sick and threw up. Nothing brings the evening to an end faster than a babe
tossing her cookies in your lap.
The clerk was shaking his head, watching him closely. “Who in their right mind
wants to get off with a lady who’s unconscious?”
“That is sick, isn’t it?”
“Worse. It’s criminal.”
Jack knew he was getting on this old guy’s wrong side. It was time to say
something to redeem himself.
I need to sound more like a naïve kid.
“I guess what I mean is, you sell anything that no one knows about? Something that
might work like . . . you know. Magic?”
“Magic?”
“Something that’ll really make them go crazy. Something that won’t actually hurt
them.”
The clerk nodded and grinned.
Jack wasn’t sure about the clerk’s grin. He didn’t know if the old guy was
thinking Jack was a moron or if he really had what Jack was talking about. The old man
didn’t look shocked. But that was no stretch. Being in this business, he’d probably
heard every conceivable question imaginable.
Just to be sure, Jack said, “You understand, don’t you?”
“Sure do.”
“Really?”
“Follow me.” The clerk crooked a short, stubby index finger, then turned and
hurried down the aisle.
His pulse hastening, Jack followed.
***
At the rear of the store, the clerk pulled the drapes aside and slipped through
them.
Feeling like a nervous kid, Jack followed the little guy.
The room was stacked with boxes piled high, carts, and palettes. An old roll-top
desk cluttered with papers and notepads snoozed against a wall. The clerk opened a drawer
and pulled out a small plastic vial. In the vial were a dozen or so small red capsules.
He unscrewed the white cap, dropped a capsule onto his wrinkled palm, and held it out.
“What’s that?”
“A special formula.”
“For what?”
“For the greatest night of your life.”
Jack stared at the capsule. It looked about the same size as one of those Tylenol
he took whenever he messed up his knee in the Mailroom, only this was a capsule. He
wondered if the old man was putting him on. The grin told him nothing. But the old boy
sure sounded on the level.
“What’ll it do if I take it?”
The old man chuckled. “You don’t wanna take this, boy. This is for the lady of
the evening.”
“What’ll she do if she takes it?”
Another chuckle. “Whatever you want her to.”
The old guy couldn’t be serious. “You mean . . . anything?”
The old guy nodded. He was no longer grinning.
“How much?”
“Ten bucks.”
“That’s all?”
The old man shrugged. “Not bad for the greatest night of your life, eh?”
“Not bad at all.” Jack thought it over. Just ten bucks to get any babe in the
world to do whatever you want. There had to be a catch.
“What happens if it doesn’t work? Can I get my money back?”
“Oh, it’ll work.”
“You say that like you know for sure.”
“It always works.”
This was starting to sound like a con.
“What is this, exactly?”
“All you need to know is that it’s a very old formula and has been passed down
through the ages.”
Yep. A con, all right.
“And it always works?”
“It has to. The formula is foolproof.”
“I suppose it’s secret, too.”
The clerk grinned. “You got it.”
“So you’re telling me that if my girlfriend takes this, she’ll do whatever I ask
her to do.”
“Actually, she’ll do whatever you tell her to do.”
This was sounding more and more like something unreal. Definitely a con. But Jack
couldn’t dismiss the old man’s solemn mood. And for only ten bucks, it might be worth it
just to see what it would do.
“All I have to do is give her this and tell her to--“
“That’s the one thing you can’t do, son. She can’t know she’s taking it.”
“Why not?”
The clerk chuckled. “Why else? She won’t take it if she knows what it is.”
“You sure this isn’t anything like that date-rape thing?”
“She’ll be totally conscious.”
“And she’ll still do whatever I tell her?”
“And she’ll love doing it.”
“But how do I slip it to her without her knowing what I’m doing?”
He shrugged. “Put it in her drink. It dissolves quickly.”
“Ten bucks? For one terrific night?”
A nod.
“How come there’s no line starting at the door and extending all the way in here
for a couple of these cool little dudes?”
The old boy chuckled. “Not too many know about this pill. We don’t advertise it,
for obvious reasons.”
“Why not?”
The clerk grinned. “We only get a dozen or so in at a time. We advertise, we’d
need a truckload coming in every damn day.”
“You got that right.” Jack studied the pill. “You sure there’s no catch?”
“Only one. It lasts for only four hours.”
“Then what?”
“It wears off.”
“Then what does she do?”
“She’ll go right back to being who she was before she took the pill. But she won’t
remember anything she just did--if that’s what ya mean.”
| 
