Chapter 22: The Senator and Lindsey

That morning, Kelly had been awaiting word that the new shipment had disembarked. She was seated at the bar, talking with the bartender Sammy. Training was suspended for the day, so she had nothing to do until the females arrived in Reception. That would probably not occur for at least an hour: There was always a delay while new arrivals got equipped in the Pet Shop before arriving at the Academy building.

Few of the clients, who were late risers, were up yet. The only clients she had seen this morning had long since left for the picnic area that was close to the beach, intent on obtaining an early look at the new shipment as the guards led them from the dock.

In the mirror Kelly could see three guards seated at a table behind her, talking: Mike and Gene, and that cute Miguel. His hair, a little long, was such a glossy jet black that it reflected the light. Over in the corner were two trainers, the thirtyish and blond Duke and the new kid, Jimmy, who was eighteen and filling in for his brother Donald, who was a couple of years older. Don had passed her in the stairwell on his way to the ship, about to go on vacation. Jimmy was on some college break and had come with the new clients. He was big enough; probably he was on his school's football team.

I suppose Duke is clueing the kid in on our operations. Crane's making a mistake letting a kid like that do any training. He ought to get another blue girl, or even Sarah, to fill in for Don. The kid is liable to freak out when he sees naked girls.

She was a little surprised when an elderly client entered the room; that was unusual at this early hour. She couldn't recall the last time that any client appeared in the bar before eleven. He was alone, also a bit odd. He took a seat at an empty table and waved a 'come here' to Sammy. Her friend had to cut short their conversation, and he went to serve the man. Kelly recognized him from past years as some politician; one wouldn't forget such a man easily: he was big, with a huge mop of white hair and his appearance, she thought, was rather regal.

She suddenly recalled something that Nina had told her the previous year but which, until now, she hadn't associated with this man.

Impressive, and big, with white hair, Nina said. He must be the one that Nina told me about. She called him a sadist. The rental girls are scared of him.

She watched in the mirror as some sort of dispute ensued. White Hair ended it with a loud, "See that you do, young man. It had better be genuine. I'll know if it's spurious, and if it is, I'll skin your black hide!"

Sammy returned behind the bar, muttering to himself. He crouched down, unlocked a cabinet under the counter, and began rummaging though it. Kelly heard the clink of bottles. She was curious, but she didn't interrupt.

It took Sammy about five more minutes to make the concoction. It was in a large tumbler and was full of green leaves that looked like mint, which didn't grow on the island.

When he returned, she asked, "Sammy, what was that all about?"

"The fucker wanted a mint julep. He insisted that I make it with cognac--Grande Champagne. It's just luck that I had any. I just now remembered that I had some from last year, when it was about all he drank, and I ordered a half case. It's expensive as hell. I'll have to get on Mike to buy some more before this prick empties this last bottle. He shrugged. "I doubt that he can tell the difference from any other cognac, but you never know."

The phone rang, and Sammy unhooked it. "Yeah, both of them, Mister Crane... Sure thing." He hung up.

"Hey!" he called across the bar, "Mike and Gene! Crane wants you by the gangway. The shipment's about ready."

Two of the guards behind Kelly rose from the table. "O.K. Sammy," one said. "Thanks."

They both left.

Kelly glanced at her watch. It would still be about half an hour before the captives reached the building, and there would be no point in going to Reception this soon. She thought about sitting with Miguel. He was a cute kid. Real cool.

I wish there weren't so many women and girls here. There's no way I can compete. Miguel probably gets freebies from at least half of them. All the other blue girls are hot for him too. I wonder how many he's poking? If I could get more flab off of my belly... Nina says he goes for blondes. Maybe I should start bleaching my hair again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the reflection of the white haired man standing up. He moved to Miguel's table and sat down across from the young man.

Hmm--that's unusual. Clients hardly ever talk to guards. I see that Duke noticed, too.

The man started talking, smiling, gesticulating; evidently explaining something.

Looks like he's buttering Miguel up.

The young man smiled back and shook his head. He began to say something, but the old guy interrupted, still smiling. Miguel looked hesitant, undecided.

The older man reached in his pocket. He opened his wallet. Kelly saw him hand a bill to Miguel. Miguel shrugged and took the money. He stood up. The old man stood up, and they left the room together.

That looked like a bribe! Why would a client bribe a guard? The only thing that a Master would want from him would be his key to the downstairs cells. Everybody has to deal with the new shipment today, so, a Master could do anything he wants down there. I'd better tell Crane.

She looked at Duke. He'd seen the exchange, too; but he only shrugged and shook his head.

The phone rang again.

"Kelly," Sammy said; "You're wanted in Reception."

Oh my god. I have to go. But, if Miguel gave that client his key to the cells... !

On exiting the elevator, the Senator walked down the third floor corridor, glancing at the brass numbers on the apartment doors. Odd ones were on the left. He stopped at Apartment 333 and knocked on the door. These third floor apartments were much closer together than the suites on his floor. Cheap. The apartment didn't even have a buzzer.

Madame LeBeau, it seems that your wealth isn't worth much. At least here, it isn't. Influence, that's what counts.

He had much to do before this afternoon's auction, but already Ellsworth felt confident of success. Men with small minds, like Crane... They were na ve to suppose they could thwart him.

Ellsworth smiled.

You're in for a surprise, Crane.

"Who's there?" he heard.

"Senator Prescott Ellsworth."

He heard two female voices. He hadn't realized that LeBeau had a slave; he hadn't thought to ask if she had one. On the other hand, it might not be a slave; if it were another client, that would present a problem.

The voices ceased, and he heard a door close.

One of the advantages the Senator derived from these yearly trips was his observations of the other clients, particularly the female ones. Back at the capital, his contacts at the agency had developed background dossiers of each client whose names he'd been able to obtain.

Ellsworth even had information on clients from Europe. That lawyer, Babette LaFleur, was one of those. She had arrived on Yvonne's liner with some paramour. He was certainly not her husband, and he looked rather like a pimp.

I'll have Leon's background checked once I'm back in Washington. The LaFleur woman has high level contacts in our Paris embassy. Leverage with her will be valuable and, if she's travelling with a criminal, I'll have that leverage. Besides, she has a good body.

The Senator smiled. Having leverage over a woman provided more than the usual benefits of influence and money. Pleasure was also for the taking.

The fellow--Leon was his first name--looked rather Sicilian. Possibly Mafia. Unfortunately, he had only a very slight accent. His English--British English--was virtually flawless, but Ellsworth had detected an accent; he had to be foreign.

Footsteps, and finally the door opened. He recognized her immediately. The Senator had an excellent memory for faces and names, particularly for ones who might be of service to him.

Lindsey LeBeau was a brunette, with a profusion of curls that surrounded her oval countenance. According to the dossier on her, she was thirty-eight. Very young to have risen to VP of a major cosmetics empire. French, but she spoke fluent English and Spanish, bad German. She was lesbian. She didn't hide that fact, which made blackmail somewhat dubious; nevertheless, the tape should suffice. She couldn't possibly retain her position in the company if her activities on the island became public.

He examined her. Her eyes were soft brown, and large. About five nine, taller than he'd thought. But then, in previous years, he'd had no particular reason to observe her height. Her figure was of far more interest.

She was clothed in a bathrobe; probably she'd been in bed with the other female, whoever she was in the bedroom behind the closed door. Ellsworth recalled seeing her on the beach in previous years, and he'd liked what he'd seen. Unlike Judith, she had meat on her bones.

I wish I could see behind that door. Not just to see the other female. It would be satisfying to know that what I've seen on the tape took place in this apartment.

"I remember you from last year, Senator," she said, giving him a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a bit of help, Madame," he said, returning her smile. It was his best charm-filled one. "This matter is personal, and I feel that its substance should be a matter of confidence between the two of us."

She knitted her brows.

The Senator felt jubilant. She wasn't the tough butch type that he'd half expected. He'd enjoy himself with her; he felt certain of that. He considered how far he might go with the tape as his lever. What he'd imagined doing with that redhead on her ship he could do with this lesbian. The boy thought he'd made a killing--one hundred dollars for a video. If he only knew!

She looking puzzled. "But Senator, we don't know each other. Not at all. What is it that can possibly be between the two of us that you think we should be secretive about?"

The sash of her bathrobe was loose, and she saw him staring at the swellings of her breasts, the cleavage of which had become visible. She smiled, but she tightened the sash.

Big tits. I won't settle for just the hors d'oeuvre and entr e, on this order. She may be close to forty, but she has a good body. Judging from the tape, she didn't want her girl friend with the harness to screw her in the ass. Well--I'll give her the genuine article--and she'll tell me that she loves it.

"Is your television in the bedroom?" he asked.

She looked even more puzzled. "Yes. What does that have to do with why you're here, Senator?"

"I'd like you to see this tape. I presume you have a VCR attached to your TV."

"See a video? Really, Senator! You have me completely at sea. Why should I do such a thing. You've interrupted an important meeting to show me a video? You haven't explained a... "

Ellsworth grinned. This was becoming more and more pleasant!

"A meeting? Madame, any fool can see that your body is naked under that robe. I dare say that all I interrupted was two female queers who were muff-diving each other."

She stared at him, her face flushed. "Mister Ellsworth," she said; "I would appreciate your leaving my apartment right now! We have nothing more to discuss--if we ever had."

The Senator resisted a laugh. Instead he stared down at her, silently, for about ten seconds.