Chapter 38

On Monday, we got down to Phoenix before the sun had enough time to turn it into a sweatbox. The difference in altitude between the Naabeehó Bináhásdzo and Valley of the Sun, as the Phoenix metro area was called, made for quite a difference in temperature. Phoenix was in the nineties, the Naabeehó Bináhásdzo was twenty degrees cooler.

Linc was driving a rented four-door sedan, and headed for a nice apartment building. He got out his phone and, in a few moments, an extremely good-looking woman came out. She was wearing a very smart, cream-colored pants suit, high heels, and carrying a gym bag. Linc got out of the car and waved to catch her attention. I felt like a cheap slut in my bustier, thigh high stockings and fancy panties, covered, of course, by a raincoat. Time was, in life #1, I looked like her ... sigh. Did I want to go back and live life #1 again? No. But I was getting tired of being a little thirteen-year-old.

She got in the front seat, as Linc resumed his driver’s seat. “Crystal, let me introduce you to Melody. She’s running this show. Miss Melody, this is Crystal.”

Crystal turned to look at me, as she settled her bag in the back. She lifted her sunglasses and perched them on her auburn hair. She gave me a long, appraising look. “Glad to meet you,” she said in a very warm Southern drawl.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” I purred in a voice that hearkened back to Las Vegas and life #1. I expected Linc to turn around and to find out who got in the back seat.

“It’ll be about half an hour ‘til we get to the secret hideout,” he laughed.

It was quiet in the car for some time, until we got on the freeway. I broke the silence. “Let’s cut though all the funny business” I said in a voice that was slightly more grown up than normal. “I’m not Melody and you’re not Crystal. I know that, and it’s okay. A rose by any other name, and all that. What the mission for the next several weeks is this: I’m trying to hook a fifteen-year-old boy. He’s a low-life, redneck. But he’s going to be useful to me in the future. I have it on good authority. I’ll tell you if you insist, it’s not a secret but it’s a long story.

“I want him to be an obedient slave-boy. I’m not going to be sexual with him, except to tempt him.” I unbuttoned my raincoat as she turned to look back at me. “I’m not experienced at this as you might be. But I’m a quick study, and I’m still growing.

“In fact, I’m not sure he’ll show, in which case you’ll still be paid, of course.” I smiled. Her face was pleasant, but all business. “I last saw him three weeks ago, and he was pudgy, flabby ass and gut. No muscle at all. I told him he had three weeks to start making himself into something I’d want. Then I had him beat off and I left.”

She laughed. “Good start, hun.” No Georgia-peach drawl, this time. “You sure you want this one? I’m sure we can find a better candidate.”

“I think this one is THE one. He’s low-class enough to do the things I need done. Getting him into shape ‘for me’ is a start. Got to get him to grovel, though.” I chuckled back at her. “His daddy is in a biker gang. Only close to a bad guy, but close enough. Drugs, maybe. I’m not sure of that part. So he’s alone most of the time.

“So ... do you want to take on a short-term project? Be a low-class Domme for a few weeks and turn this simple boy to...” I deepened my voice as much as I could “ ... the dark side?” It wasn’t James Earl Jones, but it was as close as it was going to be. Good thing ‘Star Wars’ just came out.

“We’re going to be a pair of Darth Vaders?” she laughed. There was a mid-western twang to some of her vowels, when she wasn’t playing her role. She gave it some thought. “It might take a couple of sessions that are longer than normal.”

“Maybe ... maybe.”

Red?

[I have her address, but not enough information to get a full dossier.]

“I can do that. Excuse me for asking, and you don’t have to answer, but have you got a ... well, a protector?”

“You mean a pimp?” She laughed again. “No. I get appointments from a service, you might say. Same way I got to hear from Tony, here.” She gestured at Linc. “They checked the background info he gave them. They do that for all the clients.”

Background information for ‘Tony?’ Linc was a resourceful man. I asked her, “So, you like the life then?”

“I didn’t say that.” She smiled ruefully. “But it pays the tuition and keeps food on the table. I’m in my second year at ... a nearby college. My fourth semester of the second year, ‘cause I don’t attend too many classes. Believe it or not, I’m pre-law.” She smiled, with an ironic twist. “I gotta be real careful with what I do in this life, if I expect to be a lawyer.”

[Got her, Lexi. She’s Shioban Matthews, originally from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Got kicked from a local community college for getting caught with an English Professor. Now she’s a student at the University of Tucson. Her first name is spelled ‘S.H.I.O.B.A.N’ but pronounced ‘shiv AWN’ – it’s an Irish name. No record of anything illegal. Never got beaten up by any ‘clients’ that I can find.]

“Uh ... sorry.” I broke off with Red. “I never answered your question, before. Yes, I’ll pay for whatever time you spend with little Tommy Sussex. I call him T-man or Tommy-boy. He thinks he is Tomcat. Wait ‘til you see him,” I laughed.

“Don’t ever laugh at him. This’ll be fun.” She switched back to her Southern drawl. “That li’l boy is gonna love learning to kiss Mistress Angel’s boot. Got to get him used to a new name, though. Can’t give him an excuse to think of himself as anything but a slave.”

Linc pulled in to the parking space behind what used to be Chica’s Bar.

“Ohhh. What a lovely place.” Crystal/Shioban said, with an ‘I wouldn’t touch anything’ attitude.

He pulled a wallet-sized kit from his shirt pocket, inserted a couple of probes and viola! the door popped open. He held the door open like Lancelot throwing a cape over a mud puddle. I went first and Crystal followed. We were in the former kitchen area. The windows in the bar area were shuttered from the outside. There was a little light coming in from around the edges.

“Okay,” Linc said. “I’m going to lock up. We’ve got about an hour before he shows at the arcade next door. I think we can have a little private area in the office area. I wouldn’t use the rest rooms unless it’s an emergency.” He pushed open the office door, and noticed the clutter on the desk, and swept it aside, pushing the desk back to give more room.

“Well, Tony,” said Crystal, “you said this was a low rent neighborhood. You weren’t kidding ... Now, shoo! We’re going to get ready. Let’s see what you’re wearing, Melody.”

I removed the raincoat. “Christ!” she cried out. “You’re gonna set that place on fire if you walk in like that.”

“That’s what the raincoat is for. And L ... Tony is my fire rescue,” I said.

“Are you wearing a pad under those panties?” I indicated I was not. “If you get excited, the wet spot will give him the impression he has some control. You don’t want that.” I hadn’t thought of that, even with Mistress Lisa in life #1.

She took out a length of thin rope. “This is for his balls. Not too tight, unless you want to castrate him.” She laughed, an evil laugh. Then she peeled off her elegant pantsuit, right down to a sequined, black thong, fishnet thigh highs, and four-inch heels. Nothing else. She had really nice breasts, about a B cup, I guessed.

She buckled a black, shelf bra on and then a fishnet, black – uh, I didn’t even know what it was. It covered her middle from the bra to her thong. Well ... covered is the wrong word. It was like she was caught in a net. She stepped into it and slid it up.

She pulled on a face mask that showed her eyes and covered her forehead. It was the EXACT shade of green that matched her eyes.

“Well,” she asked, giving her shoulder-length auburn hair a flip, “what do you think?”

“I think you’ll melt his balls,” I answered.

“You can introduce me as Mistress Angel. And do anything you want. Before you leave, I want him nude, with a hard-on...”

“That won’t be difficult,” I laughed.

“And you can slip a loose noose around just his balls. Run the free end of the cord through a big staple we’ll set in the floor. Give me the free end, and you can come back here, until we’re done.”

“You’ve done this before,” I ventured.

“I’m kind of a specialist on the agency’s list. That’s why I’ve never gotten beat up by clients,” she answered. “The agency thought I was going to work on Tony.” She laughed. “I’ll have to set them straight ... Maybe I’ll set them ‘kinky’ instead.”

“Now,” I said, “let’s see if my fly has stepped into the web.” I straightened the shirt over my bustier, and slipped into the raincoat again. I went to the back door and found it locked. You’d need a key in the deadbolt to open it. I knocked. There were a few clicks and it opened.

“Hi,” I said to Linc. “Just going over to the arcade to get him.”

I could hear Crystal hammering in the bar area. Linc pretended he didn’t notice. He walked around the corner first, and leaned on the wall, doing his drunk bum impression. In about a minute, I followed him and walked into the arcade. My heels click-clacking on the tiled floor.

This time I caught the eye of every boy/man in the room. Who wears a raincoat in Phoenix on a broiling day? With high heels? And stockings? What’s under the raincoat? I could almost read their dirty minds. And, of course, they were right.