Chapter 31

Edited by Bob Ross

Don't get me wrong, I don't think prostitution should be a crime. It should just be a business transaction governed by civil law. If a hooker steals your money, then maybe it's a crime. But just for selling her ass on the street; no I can't see it. To waste a couple of hours of a cop's time processing her, then the court's time to take her to trial, and even the cost of keeping her housed and fed for a month is just a waste of my money. Now that said, runaway kids turning tricks is a different thing. They need to be protected too many people are ready to take advantage of them.

All that ran through my head while I waited in the lounge. It was early enough so that Marge had a couple of pizzas delivered for the hired help. I was pretty sure the young hookers were in the house somewhere. The Hazelwood had enough rooms to hide a lot more than three hookers.

Several years after the Civil war one of the Aster clan, not a recognized member of the Astor family mind you, came to town. There were already a few empty woodworking plants around. Those had been used to make Confederate wagons and cannon carriages, when they were open. The Aster cousin, or whatever, bought them all for a pittance and began making furniture.

The poverty, after the failed war of independence, was grinding in the south. That being the case there was plenty of cheap labor. Lots of hardwood forests were available to be raped as well. So all the elements for a new industry were in place. All but the startup capital, which was supplied by Aster. He made a fortune in return.

The Aster family had a residence in New England, but the senior Aster needed to put in at least an appearance at the plants now and then, so he built a house in town. At that time travel was difficult, so he built it near the plants, but not so close that he had to actually be bothered by them. Thus his mini mansion was born in what later became downtown Aster.

Aster had a lot of kids, so the house had a lot of bedrooms. Some for the children, some for his extended family, and some for entertaining. Then there were the common rooms, which weren't all that common. I found myself in the lounge, which most likely was a parlor, when the Aster's occupied the house. The lounge, where I sat, could comfortable seat a dozen people. Two large sofas and half a dozen over stuffed leather chairs were spread around the room.

Marge was adamant that I not leave the room, since the Ruskies were in the building. So of course first chance I got I went exploring. Hazelwood was one big house. On the first floor were all common rooms, but there were also two more floors of bedrooms. There were at least six usable bedrooms on each floor. Marge had explained that after my first visit.

The house had been built after the advent of indoor plumbing, so it was filled with bathrooms. Most of them had quaint free standing showers rigged over claw foot tubs. Quite a hit with the guests I'm sure.

I was back in the room after exploring the bottom rooms, when the first of the other entertainers arrived. She walked in dressed as a little girl of about twelve. It was a little disconcerting, until I got a really close look at her. The little girl illusion was shattered by the hollow look around her eyes. The kid was a drug user for sure and likely in her late teens. I could easily believe that Marge had found an eighteen year old hooker. It would have been simpler for her to make up the emaciated teen to look twelve.

Marge had managed to bleach most of my tan away. Even the tan lines were blended till they seemed to vanish. She promised me the bleaching treatment wouldn't do any real damage to my skin. I had my doubts but decided to play along anyway. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a middle aged woman almost ghostly in appearance. I definitely did not have a health glow, but it was Marge's illusion not mine.

We were joined a few minutes later by a young man, who again looked to be a thirteen or fourteen year old kid. On closer inspection he had a few whiskers. Not a lot just a few on his upper lip. He could have been eighteen as Marge promised. It was almost seven, when the last of her entertainers arrived.

She looked to be about fourteen. She was dressed exactly like me. I mean she was an exact miniature version of me. But the most striking thing about her was that I recognized her. She was Jack the dog man's teenage daughter. When we spoke at the dog kennel, I had no idea I would ever see her again. Especially not under those circumstances.

What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked. "You look like me only older."

"I'm going to call the cops and have your little ass in Juvie, " I said to the shocked looking girl.

Please don't do that," she begged. So far we had kept the discussion to a whisper held in one corner of the lounge.

Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I need this, and I don't want to go to jail."

"What do you mean you need this?"

"I need the money, and I need the sex. I'm not very attractive. I'm flat chested and straight as a stick. The boys my age want to screw me, but I'm gay. I have tried it with boys, but I don't like it, so I get teased badly."

"So you are out here selling your ass?"

"Yes, I get off on the kink. I also like that the money is good. Marge knows I only like to do women, so she uses me when it is girl/girl sex."

"Does Marge know how old you are?"

"No, she thinks I'm eighteen. Fake ID's are easy to get on line."

"How old are you really?" I asked.

Fifteen, but I'm mature for my age," she replied

"I just bet you are," my reply dripped with sarcasm.

Maxine please, I can't go to jail, it would kill my dad."

"Julie, I cannot let you do this," I said.

Ms. Stone just this one last time. Then I promise I will never do it again." She seemed truly terrified that her dad would find out.

Let me think about it." I said. She did seem sincere in her promise to never do it again. I could also warn Marge, which should keep her out of the Hazelwood anyway ... I decided what I needed to do was to tell Marge right then and get Julie out of the house immediately. Marge would just have to suffer with being one short for the evening.

When I opened the lounge door to go find Marge, what I found was a thug. He didn't even smile when he put his hand on my breast to pushed me back into the lounge. What the fuck? I asked myself.

You said you had done this before?" I asked Julie.

Yes three or four times," she answered.

Are there usually guards?"

"Sometimes, but they never do anything. They just watch from the doorway. I think it is to make sure nothing happens to the guests."

"Well the one tonight is outside this door, to keep us in here," I informed her.

Why would they do that, we never go anywhere."

"To make sure we don't wander around is all I can figure."

"So I am going to do this one more time then?" she asked.

For now, we play along. If I find a way, I'm getting you out of here. But that guy looks serious about keeping us in line. If they find out I'm not a hooker, we could all get hurt, if not killed." My mind was racing. "For now we go along."

"Cool, she said as if it were a video game or something.

Do what they say and keep your mouth shut." I warned her.

I always do what they say." She smiled wickedly. She just didn't get how much danger she was in. Unfortunately I knew. If I made a scene, they might feel they needed to kill my skinny ass, and leave no witnesses. That was what Anya really was warning me about the whole time. She knew this wasn't just some Russian business men out to get laid, these were the really bad guys. If I lived through this weekend, I just might kill Anya.

I tried to think. What the hell could I do, the answer was simple nothing. I could play along and hope for a chance to save everyone, or I could go along and the bad guys would most likely leave on their own accord come Sunday morning. That seemed like the best course of action. Just go along and see how it played out, but be ready to go redneck at any minute.

I switched my thinking to trying to predict what the plan for us was. Judging from the dresses we wore, Julie and I were going to be part of a mother, daughter fantasy. Not something I had any experience with, but I had been told that it was a universal fantasy with middle-aged men, maybe with middle-aged women as well.

I was still trying to come up with a plan, when the guard on the door came in with a woman I had not previously met. The woman walked first to the girl dress like a child and handed her a pill and a bottle of water. The girl swallowed it eagerly. Then the woman went to each of the others finally ending in front of me.

Take it," she said without any expression on her face at all.

I don't do drugs," I replied.

It is just to relax you, not make you high. Take it." That time she was very insistent and the guard seemed to be getting ready to slap the hell out of me. I could refuse and probably get my ass beat. Afterward nothing would have changed, so I took the pill.

The woman nodded, then walked away. After she left nothing much felt different for a while. It was several minutes later that my thinking got soft. There is no other way to explain it. It was just soft.