Chapter 6

Sitting at Leonard's computer, Grace flipped through the many pages of options that her escort agency profile comprised, never imagining the diversity that people had incorporated into the simple act of procreation.

"I can't believe anybody would want to do that?" she announced as she viewed the contents of a MetaNet forum dedicated to devotees of an obscure sexual practice.

Leonard looked up from the sofa where he lay dozing with Sierra's head nestled in his lap. His cock dangled limply, drained from being sucked continuously for the past hour. A single strand of semen still linked his shrunken member to Sierra's pouting lips.

"Want to do what?" he asked out of curiosity.

"I can't even bring myself to tell you," she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"So I take it that's another 'no' then."

She cast him a disdainful look and proceeded to the next question.

"How long have you been at it?" he asked.

"Two hours and I'm not even half way through."

"Keep at it. No pain, no gain."

"I don't know why they can't keep it simple."

"You've figured out what the numbers at the bottom of each page mean?"

"I assumed that they were some sort of reference code," Grace replied.

"It's what you get paid for performing it," Leonard informed her.

"Really?" Grace exclaimed in surprise.

Leonard fell into a fit of laughter at Grace's naivety. The girl backed up a few pages and suddenly saw the information presented there in a new light.

"I suppose I could check a few more of the boxes," she mumbled. Leonard laughed even harder, disturbing Sierra from her repose.

By the end of her session, more boxes were checked than not. Grace concluded that anything short of physical pain could be tolerated for short periods; particularly if she was paid well for the privilege.

The report on Bennett's desk bore the Research Division logo on the cover page.

"See if you get as much out of it as I did," Sands stated sarcastically.

Bennett skimmed the document wishing that he had half the education necessary to comprehend the diagrams and formulae scattered throughout its pages.

"This is a total waste of time. What do we pay these people for?"

"The last page is the only one worth reading."

He skipped to the summary and frowned as he slowly absorbed the text. "So what was Mason doing with this stuff?"

"We know that he had black market connections. Maybe he had a buyer," Sands theorized.

"A couple of the flasks were empty and another was half full. It suggests that he had a direct use for it but I can't for one instant figure out what that would be."

"Some of the constituents are quite obscure. Perhaps we could try finding out which company produces them and where they end up."

"You've just earned yourself a job Pete. Anything else new?"

Sands passed him a photograph of a dark skinned man dressed in garish clothes and sporting an abundance of ostentatious jewellery.

"Matthias Abraham," Bennett sighed. "Which rock did you find him under?"

"A very small one," Sands replied. "He was found dead last night over by a disused warehouse by the Belmont, ripped to shreds."

"Go on."

"We had a report of some wild animal activity in the area and discovered a pack of feral dogs chewing on his grisly remains."

"I take it that it wasn't a simple animal attack then?"

"The coroner's still finishing up the autopsy but from what he's told me so far, it sounds really scary. The guy's arms, legs and head were literally torn from his body."

Bennett raised his eyebrows in response.

"Guess who supplied girls to Mason?" Sands continued.

"Matthias?"

"You got it in one. I put out a warrant on him after the massacre, reckoning he could help us find our missing ladies. I couldn't find a trace of him and now he turns up in tiny pieces."

"Takes a lot of strength to rip a man's legs off?"

"My thoughts exactly," Sands agreed.

Bennett's attention was drawn to the outer office where a young woman had just appeared, looking around expectantly. Her expensive trouser suit and high-heeled shoes made her stand apart from the casually dressed occupants of the squad room. Long, dark hair was tied back into a ponytail and designer shades afforded her a sophisticated appearance.

"Who on earth's that?" Bennett asked rhetorically, jumping up out of his seat and heading quickly to intercept the newcomer.

"May I help you?" he croaked, staring into the most penetrating blue eyes he'd ever encountered as she tilted the sunglasses up into her hair.

"Lieutenant Bennett?"

"Yes."

"My name's Hamel. I'm with the mayor's office."

"I'm glad to meet you," he sighed, unable to drag his eyes away from hers, even for a second.

"Is there somewhere private where we can talk?" she replied curtly.

"My office is this way."

Sands grinned as Bennett led the woman into their private domain but grumbled as his boss dropped an unsubtle hint that there were activities that required his presence elsewhere.

As soon as Sands departed, Bennett flopped into his chair and quickly adjusted himself to provide a more comfortable position, grateful that the desk shielded his action from sight.

"The mayor is a little concerned about the apparent lack of progress after last week's massacre," the woman informed him. "I hoped that you could fill me in as to where your investigation is heading."

Straight to the point, Bennett mused. He would normally have given her the brush off but suddenly felt flushed, almost like a schoolboy fantasizing over a magazine centrefold.

"Well. Yes ... err ... We have made some progress ... We are following up a few leads which we hope will bear fruit."

"Can you please be a little more specific?" she demanded impatiently.

He told her about the hunt for the missing girls and the dead slaver. She probed with questions of her own, convincing him that she was no political drudge and that the woman was exceedingly smart. He was about to mention the flasks when something held him back. It would just sound silly explaining how he expected the chemical analysis to solve one of the worst multiple murder cases on recent record.

"It doesn't seem like you have very much," Hamel stated.

"The massacre bears striking similarities to events that took place in Elysia last year. Another organised crime operation was targeted then. All the members were brutally slain with no clues ever found as to their assailants."

"Really?" she replied.

"There are still many leads to follow up." He paused for an instant but could not resist continuing. "Perhaps you could check back every once in a while."

He berated himself for his lack of subtlety but simply relished the thought of seeing her again.

"I might just do that," she replied, either not noticing or choosing to ignore his obvious enthusiasm. "Do you mind if I speak with your colleagues?"

"Feel free."

She wandered into the squad office whilst Bennett mopped his brow with a handkerchief then loosened the top button of his shirt.

The phone rang. Grace looked apprehensive as Sierra passed the receiver across to her. She'd completed the online questionnaire only three days previously and the opportunity of a contract so quickly surprised her. At the club, she'd had no choice in the matter and her mind had been more open to suggestion. Since the medication had started to leave her system, the clarity of her thoughts threw any decisions that she made into sharp relief.

"Hello," she said nervously into the phone.

"Hello Grace. It's Rachel. I was wondering if you'd be available for an assignment this evening."

"What kind of assignment?" she asked tentatively.

"One of our established clients asked if you'd be free for dinner."

"Who is he?"

"An attorney for one the city's biggest law firms."

"And he wants to take me out to dinner?"

"He was very taken with your simulation."

"I guess I should be flattered," Grace admitted. "How does this work?"

"If you can come over here this afternoon, we can help you prepare."

"Okay."

"Your fee for the assignment is two thousand dollars," Rachel informed her. "The client is paying much more than that of course."

Grace was stunned at the size of the fee.

"What will he want me to do?"

"Nothing that you haven't already agreed to in your profile," she reassured her. "I'm sure that you'll find his company most enjoyable."

Grace hung up and relayed the details to Sierra, who seemed unbelievably happy for her. "I'm jealous. I wish Lenny would let me do something like this. I feel so useless hanging around the apartment all day, watching the tank."

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise."

Admiring herself in the mirror, Grace saw the transformation that a team of professional stylists could achieve in just a couple of hours. They had bathed her, crimped her hair, fixed her make-up, and dressed her to thrill. With the addition of expensive jewellery and fine perfume, she felt almost like an Elysian heiress.

A chauffeured limousine ferried her to an exclusive Caliban restaurant in the financial district where the maître d' led her to a secluded table. Her date was already seated and Grace's heart leapt when she saw him. Half expecting an overweight slob on an expense account, she instead perceived an extremely handsome and immaculately dressed young man with a welcoming smile.

He rose and introduced himself as Paul, took her hand from the maître d' then held her chair for her while she sat.

"Thank you," Grace giggled, slightly overwhelmed by his decorum.

"It's my pleasure. It's not often I spend time with someone of such beauty."

"You're embarrassing me," Grace replied shyly.

With the ice broken, he proved himself a keen conversationalist. He impressed her with his knowledge of the arts, science and music, whilst steering clear of discussing his work.

"Are you're sure that you're a lawyer Paul?" Grace inquired. "I have this mental picture of them rambling incessantly about court cases and past rulings."

"I can if you want. I wouldn't want to dispel any of your preconceptions."

Grace laughed and realized that the evening was indeed going to be enjoyable.

The food was spicy and delicious, and they enjoyed it at a leisurely pace. They even managed to consume two bottles of vintage Elysian wine and Grace was surprised that she wasn't inebriated by the end of the meal.

They entered into a friendly argument about the current President with Paul trying to counter Grace's overt criticism of the administration with his own views about trade liberalization, legal reform, and economic stability. When it was time to leave, she had to assist the slightly drunken lawyer to the waiting limousine where it conveyed them back to his apartment.

"Maybe we shouldn't have ordered that last bottle," he laughed. "I think I'm suffering the consequences."

His luxurious home was on the eighth floor of a huge monolithic structure that nestled on the banks of the Belmont, overlooking the marina. A huge panoramic window ran the full length of the lounge. Grace gasped at the view, unable to imagine waking up every morning to the glorious sight of pleasure craft cruising up and down the waterfront. At night, the yachts became a tapestry of luminous motes floating on an endless black carpet.

"This is so beautiful," Grace murmured.

Paul slid up behind her and encircled her waist with his arms, pulling her towards him and burying his face in her hair. He breathed in her exotic scent whilst luxuriating in the softness of her mane. Grace leaned back towards him, moaning as she felt his hands reach up to cup her breasts through the flimsy material of her evening gown.

"That's nice," she sighed.

He turned her around in his arms and stole the opportunity to kiss her for the first time. The taste of her lips was delicious and he ran his tongue over the delicate pouting flesh before slowly seeking entrance inside. Grace's body melted, her legs struggling to bear her weight. She'd have collapsed but for his support.

"You're lovely," he hissed as he lowered her into a plush, leather sofa that softly conformed to her shape. The man picked up a remote from a glass topped table and a gentle piano sonata filled the room, setting the mood for what was to come. He sat down on the floor in front of her and ran his fingers tenderly along each thigh, enjoying the supple warmth of her skin. Grace became intoxicated with passion.

Paul slowly eased the panties down her smooth legs then spread them apart to view her smoothly shaven labia.

"Looks good enough to eat," he stated as he nibbled along the exposed limb before placing a gentle kiss in the centre of her being. His tongue traced the contours of her flesh before teasing apart the delicate petals and sampling the juices that seeped from within.

"Delicious," he sighed, forcing his tongue deep into the folds and lapping up her abundant nectar. His skilful digit soon had Grace gasping in delight and she crested as he mercilessly teased her engorged womanhood.

"Make love to me," she whispered urgently.

Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her through into the master bedroom and eased her out of the delicate apparel. Setting her down naked amongst the silken covers, he admired her breathtaking beauty. Grace stared up at her partner through lidded eyes, watching as he shed his clothes to stand before her.

Paul had run many simulations of this moment over the past days but nothing compared to the sheer eroticism of having her there with him in real life. He crawled onto the bed beside her and passed his fingers possessively over her body. Delaying no further, he rolled between her thighs and thrust leisurely within her welcoming embrace.

Gasping in pleasure, he dropped his mouth to her breast, capturing the delicate nipple between his lips. Grace held his head in place whilst raising her hips to meet the urgency of his strokes. All restraint was lost as they sought to satisfy their burning lust, twisting and writhing in ecstasy with increasing desperation until eventually groaning with sheer relief.

After resting for a few moments, he rolled from Grace's inert body and onto his side. She detected the loss and turned towards him, opening her arms expectantly and smiling as they flowed back together.

He kissed her tenderly, his mind still aglow from their union. They snuggled for an eternity before slowly easing apart. Both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. Grace dozed, her mind captivated by the classical notes that still resonated vibrantly throughout the apartment.