Chapter 5

Following the exact directions from the gas station attendant, Carl found no difficulty in locating the place. Right on Broadway, just as the man said. It was small from the outside, decorated with bright neon lights that flickered even now in the late afternoon. A man dressed in a red velvet suit spotted him coming and started calling to him, gesturing with his arm to wave him in.

How nice of Valerie to tell them I'm coming he thought, and quickened his pace.

"Sir, step right in and see some nasty action!" the gauchely dressed man hissed, at the same time grabbing the doctor by the arm. "No cover, sir, special deal for you. Are you a tourist in town? Be sure to get one of our postcards to send home to the wifey, huh?" he nudged. "Special deal... just buy two drinks and the rest of the treats are on the house. Hey, hey! Such a deal!"

Before the stunned professor could even open his mouth to tell the sweaty-smelling, liquor-breathed man that he was a friend of Valerie's, two nakedly attired girls in sequined G-strings and bras grabbed him, one by each arm and escorted him into the dark interior of Valerie Barren's house of employ.

"Right this way, honey," the redhead directed, walking faster now, making the rhinestone and silver bracelets making her arms jingle, the heady scent of her lilac perfume building pressure in his sinuses till he thought for sure he'd sneeze.

"What can I get you to drink, doll," the blonde on his left wanted to know. "Gotta buy two drinks a set, baby. What'd ya want?" Her voice was thick and husky, obviously a chain smoker from the sound of her voice, and a heavy drinker from the smell of it. "Well, I got other men to take care of. What'll it be?"

"A... a scotch on the rocks, please." He hated scotch but it was the only thing he could think of in his confused desperation. Brawny hands, blue veined and cold looking, pushed at his chest, easing him into the front row chair, just feet away from the empty stage.

"That's a couple bucks extra for the front row," croaked the redhead holding out her hefty palm. "And two bucks for the first round unless you want to buy one for the waitress, then it's only a buck and a half. Think you can swing it, big boy?"

With cold, stiff fingers, Carl reached for his wallet and handed her a five dollar bill which she grabbed from his hand and, with a sneer of her ruby red lips, sauntered off, calling, "thanks for the ball bustin' tip, honey," over her shoulder.

One by one, drunken sailors and gauchely dressed 'Super Flys' sauntered in, gradually filling the room to half full. Next to him a table of Minneapolis-Honeywell executives in their white shoes and polyester plaid jackets and contrasting pants, sat drinking steins of beer. He could tell who they were by the yellow happy face convention tags that read, "Happy Day From Honeywell!" and below, "Please to meet you, I'm ______________________" In the typical husband-away-from-wife attitude, they talked dirty and tried to buy the redheaded waitress until the price became a sore point and she spilled a full mug of beer on the fat one in the middle, then they shut up.

Carl stared at the stage, trying to figure out what was on it, and he thought he saw a bed before he was distracted by a couple being seated on the table on the other side of him. Jesus, he didn't know men actually brought their wives into places like this! He crossed his arms over his chest and took another sip of his scotch, wondering just what kind of show Valerie would put on. God, if women were allowed in here, it couldn't be too risque.

He tried to listen to the conversation of the couple next to him. A rather striking young girl accompanied by a tall man with a Texas accent, they were tourists, most likely from the way they talked. Carl was trying to listen in the conversation of the couple, certain that he'd heard the man say something about 'fucking' to the girl with him, but Carl scolded himself for having such lewd thoughts. Damn, ever since that phone conversation with Valerie that was all he could think about.

Carl had ordered his second drink when the lights in the place dimmed even lower than they already had been. "I guess the show is going to start at last," he said quietly to himself, absent-mindedly.

At first he thought the show was going to be a play, as the stage was outfitted like a bedroom in an ordinary house and he mused to himself, I didn't know the girl was an actress. Just a few feet away from where he sat was an old fashioned brass bed, turned at a slight angle to face them. To one side was an end table, and toward the back of the set was a large chest of drawers. Next to it was a doorway, and it was closed. Nothing happened for several moments, and Carl was beginning to wonder why, when some light, rhythmic music began to play. At almost the same moment, the door to the back of the stage opened, and a beautiful young girl, whom he instantly recognized as Valerie, walked on stage. Much to his surprise, the girl was fully dressed, and Carl shifted in his seat, a bit disappointed. God, but she was a honey, with her long dark hair and delicate features... a little Spanish or Italian in her blood maybe?

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, taking sips of his scotch which was just beginning to have a slight dulling affect on his brain. It would be kind of wicked fun to watch a burlesque show, he thought, while his wife was slaving over his work. He sat back in his seat to make himself more comfortable. He knew that there were many strip shows along Broadway, and he wondered if there was anything spectacular about this place that made Valerie want to work here. Maybe Valerie had suggested he come to catch her act just to bring in the bucks... maybe she got a cut. He felt a little disappointed at the prospect, yet at the same time, he was anxious as hell for her to take off those clothes she was wearing.

Valerie walked around the bedroom set as though she had just come home from work, and she wasn't moving in time to the music like most strippers. Instead, she just began to remove her clothes like any girl her age might do, and the only thing that made her different was the fantastic shape of her sensual young body. Her inky hair was silky and long, tied back in a ponytail style, and as she removed her dress, she had to swing the long strand of hair out of the way. There was something about the way she moved that gave her the appearance of feline sensuality, and she was almost purring as her dress came off over her head. Her under garments were black and lacy, and even with a bra on, it was apparent that her breasts were round and full. At last he'd get to see them! She turned her head in his direction, and he meekly raised his hand in a timid wave. God, wouldn't it be wonderful if she's see him and wave back? Heads would turn then! But she didn't. Oh well, maybe the lights were blinding her.

Almost casually, the young girl ran her hands lightly over her hips and belly as if feeling a stirring sensation within, and then she reached behind her back to unfasten the lacy bra. It fell away from her luscious body like it was propelled by breasts strapped in too tightly, and the white smooth skin of her firm full breasts shone dazzingly in the bright stage lights. They were as magnificent as any imagination would have them, and after setting her bra down on the chest of drawers, she rubbed her palms over the tips of the tiny brown nipples, in such a way as to instantly make them rise into hardness.

Carl giggled to himself as he watched the young girl on the stage. Christ, but she was a beauty and from the feeling down there between his legs, his cock thought so, too. But it surprised him to see the girl act so innocent of the audience that was but a few feet away, and when the girl took her bra off in such a casual manner, Carl felt his heart leap to his throat. Damn! He was so close to Valerie that he felt that he could reach out and touch her, and if that was true for him, then it was also true for the Texan sitting at the table next to her. He felt embarrassed for Valerie having all these strangers watching her and he wondered if she'd ever had any problems with men jumping on stage and attacking her. Damn them if they did!

The rest of the room was in near or total darkness, but his table was bathed in light from the stage. She turned on stage and began walking around with her breasts pointing straight out, naked for all to see, and what made him even more crazy with lust, was the fact that all the girl had left on were think black stockings held up by a black lace garter belt around her slim waist. Thank God she still had her black panties on which she seemed to be leaving alone, or he just might have to slither out to the men's room with a red face!

Shifting his position in the chair, Cal picked up his glass of scotch and nervously drained it. Robot-like, the redheaded waitress came by and picked it up before he could tell her he didn't care for another. Looking up, he gasped aloud at the sight of a dark, tall man who, charged onto the stage. He was carrying a briefcase which he held up threateningly at the girl, who began laughing.

My God, was this for real? Well, it had to be part of the show. They sure as hell wouldn't let just anybody on stage with a woman like that.

And then...

The waitress set down a full shot of scotch -- no ice this time -- and hissed, "Two bucks please, plus tip." Oh damn, she was blocking his view, too, he slapped three bucks on her tray and waved her aside, coughing from her overpowering flower perfume. Damn, now he missed what they were saying!

Jesus, what the hell was that man doing to his Valerie? Christ Almighty, he had overpowered her and was holding her arm behind her naked back and taking some short lengths of rope from the briefcase. Everything seemed to be happening at lightning speed, and the next thing he saw, the girl was bent over the brass rail of the foot of the bed, and the man was tightening her wrists with pieces of rope. With quick movements, the man tied the other ends of the ropes on the brass stead at the head end of the bed, and Valerie's arms were held squarely, her belly pressing against the rail at the foot of the bed. My God! Should he jump and help her?

The man was around behind her in a flash, and he rapidly tied her ankles wide apart, each fastened to the rear legs of the bed. Carl was completely awed by the sight before him! The girl was like a prisoner of her bed, her beautiful young body held tightly against the metal pipe, and was bent forward over the mattress so that her full jutting breasts pointed straight down at the mattress. Her arms were pulled parallel with the bed, and she was bent over as though her buttocks were a target. Carl took a deep sip of his scotch, wincing at the acrid taste and summarized the situation. Obviously, Valerie suffered from some persecution complex that she'd allow herself to be treated in such a dehumanizing, despicable manner. No self-pride, she couldn't have.

With her legs tied to the foot of the bedstead, the girl looked highly vulnerable to anything the man might do, and Carl felt himself shaking with fear and concern for the young girl who obviously was in for something unpleasant, judging from the sinister look on the man's face. All sorts of images flashed through his brain, and he drank a large full gulp of his scotch in an effort to calm his nerves. He crossed his legs, hoping to quell the stirrings down there.

Valerie was whimpering realistically now, as if she was actually afraid of the man on the stage with her. Damn, it had to be part of the act! Certainly City Ordinances wouldn't allow anything harmful to happen on stage, even in a place like this, which he'd purposely neglected to define, knowing it was a front for a whore house.

Concerned, Carl twisted nervously in the chair while the bizarre sights in front of him continued. The man on stage was grinning lewdly at the helpless position of the girl, and he seemed to ignore her pleas for mercy. It was as though he was there uninvited, and when he moved toward the girl he took small steps that seemed to draw out the anticipation. Carl grinned to himself. Hell, it's only an act; he wouldn't hurt Valerie. But when the man grabbed at her panties, and with one very vicious tug, pulled the filmy material from her body, he was tempted to jump on stage and rescue her.

"Please, don't!" Valerie pleaded, her big dark eyes widening in fright. She was pulling at her bonds, and her buttocks wiggled lewdly as a result of her struggle, a movement which did not escape the watchful eye of Dr. Dexter. The twin, moon-shaped globes were round and shapely, standing out clearly in the frame of her black stockings and garter belt. The torn threads of panties fell to the floor of the stage, where the man stood behind the girl, and he pinched the flesh of her buttocks, making her yelp in discomfort. He laughed at her swift response, then shoving his hand in between the girl's smooth inner thighs, he lifted up to suddenly bury his fingers in the dark triangle of her curly pubic hair.

My God, what was he doing to his Valerie? Carl felt his heart pounding at a mile a minute, as he realized that he might be witnessing the rape of the poor girl tied to the bed -- his research subject! Well, they sure as hell would have something to talk about this time! That man torturing her had to be a sadist, no two ways about it. God, he wanted to jump up there and slug that man! He had to be a sicky dressed in that costume.

He was a spot of black on stage, wearing black tight pants and a black shirt left open at the collar, but it wasn't his dress that gave him the sinister appearance. He had an obvious scar on his right cheek, a wide red slash that could only have come from a knife fight. His eyes flashed with rapid rabbit-like glances as he eyed the helpless girl, and his mouth was curled up at the corners in a sneer. The culprit seemed completely oblivious to the girl's screams as he dug his fingers in her naked pussy, as if trying to determine if the girl was really ready for him. Turning slightly, he moved quickly toward the black briefcase he had carried on stage with him, and when he pulled his right hand from inside it, he held a small, black whip. In spite of its small size, the whip looked terrifying and sinister, and he drew his hand down smoothly, making a loud crack with the tiny leather tip of it.

Carl practically jumped out of his chair at the sound of the cracking whip, and his heart was beating so damned fast, he could feel it in his throat. Christ, he was going to beat Valerie! Carl sat breathless as the man moved toward the girl, holding the whip like a limp snake in front of him. When he was directly behind the bent-over girl, he moved his hand holding the whip up high in the air, so that the girl could see it very clearly. She had her head twisted to one side, and by the look on her face, it was difficult for her to look backward toward the man. When she saw what he was holding over his head, her eyes popped open wide with anxiety.

"Ohhhh, don't do that to me!" she wailed in her high soprano trill, but her pleas were interrupted with the whip slapping down across her naked buttocks.

"Aaaaggghhh!" Heaving forward in a desperate attempt to get away from the blow, Valerie's breasts pressed into the mattress as she tried to pull herself free from the restraining bonds. She was securely tied, and there was no escape for her. The man raised his hand once again, and the whip landed on her smooth quivering young buttocks even harder than before.

"Aaaagggghhhh! Oooohhhh, don't hurt your Valerie!" thin red lines were visible across the white cheeks of her naked buttocks as a vivid indication of where the whip had struck her body. Carl felt like every nerve and muscle in his body was tense as the man again raised his hand, holding up the whip, striking the girl with the tip of it on the upstroke. The loud, lewd cracking sound echoed throughout the club, and the patrons seemed to remain so very quiet that no breathing was heard. Another red welt ran parallel on the white cheeks of her sensuous buttocks, but her cries for mercy had turned to helpless, incoherent whimperings.

"Jesus!" muttered the doctor to himself, feeling his forehead bead with perspiration, he wiggled in his seat and emptied his glass of scotch. It's just an act, he reminded himself; no reason to get so upset. He made a conscious effort to block out the cruelty of this S-M act, but the subsequent blows of the whip sounded like cracking stings From hell. Then, as though he had been imagining all that preceded, Carl was shocked by the sudden change in Valerie's voice. It was as though she was actually enjoying the painful whipping the man was giving her, and tiny drops of excited moisture seemed magically to appear between the girl's open thighs.

The girl's buttocks were just a few feet away from where Carl was seated, and he could clearly see the pink valley of moist flesh between the hair-lined slit of her pussy. Damn, but it was beautiful! It was lubricating fluid from her cunt! Carl couldn't believe it, but there was no denying what he could see with his own eyes! The girl's whimpering had changed to moans of real pleasure, and she was rolling her buttocks as if to entice the man to strike her again and again. Carl drank down the watered scotch from the melting ice cubes in his glass as he felt a strange growing sensation in his loins. Damn, it was happening again! Something about the bizarre actions of the girl and man on-stage made his nerves tingle with the same excitement he had felt when Valerie first appeared on stage. It was almost as if he could feel her sensuous hands running up and down his inner thighs, and his cock throbbed in the direction of the stage. He tried to close his mind to the realization of his excitement, but he couldn't turn off the gnawing sensations that seemed to grow with each passing moment. In spite of the terrible shame he felt for having become excited by some goddamned sadistic, he couldn't help but inch his fingers down toward the growing bulge in his pants. He wriggled so that his chair was directly under his semi-circle single table, nervously watching to see if the Texan or his girl friend next to him was watching. Just a little finger-tip stroke wouldn't hurt anything, and he'd stop if it got out of control. Damn, but it felt good. Although the man on stage was still half turned away from his line of vision, Carl couldn't help noticing the growing bulge in the crotch of his tight black pants, too.