Michael Slade - Headhunter

This corset was cut low in the front to accentuate her cleavage. It ended just above her groin. Two leather straps ran from the armpits up to her neck where they fastened to a black studded collar. The sides of the garment were stitched with red laces, the bodice cut in circles to reveal her nipples. To complement the corset, Suzannah pulled on two shoulder-length black gloves also stitched in red, and snapped them to the collar. The fingers of the gloves had been sliced off, and revealed her scarlet nails. Then she pulled on a pair of spike-heeled, red-laced, knee-high boots and picked up a thin-lashed leather cutting whip. The handle of the whip was decorated with a pretty blood-red ribbon tied in a large bow.

Returning to the washstand, Suzannah removed a flat bottle of rouge from its onyx surface. She held the container out to Crystal and said: "Would you color my nipples while I paint my mouth?" Shivering, the girl nodded.

When they had finished, Suzannah bent over and sucked on Crystal's breasts until both tips were hard buds. Dipping a finger into the makeup, she slowly rouged each nipple until it was a brilliant red. Then with one hand she took the girl's face in her fingers and looked deeply into her eyes. The bow on the end of the whip brushed Crystal's cheek.

"Men are swine, lover, please remember that. You and I are linked by what we have in common. I was also raped by my father."

Crystal blinked, her eyes locked with the woman's, unable to break away.

"Yes, dear. You are not alone. And believe me — no man will ever hurt you in my house. You're safe here."

"How did it happen to you. Please tell me. I want to know."

Suzannah sighed. "All right," she said. "I was born on a vineyard in the south of France. In 1934 — when I was five — I was sent to school in Paris. During the War my father collaborated with the Vichy Government. He was a traitor. Anyway, in 1941 my parents called me home. By then the Germans were in Paris and they thought me safer on the family estate."

"You lived under the Nazis!" Crystal exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Yes, dear. But they weren't my problem. Near the end of the War my father started drinking heavily. And he beat my mother up. By then the Allies had landed and the Germans were retreating. My father was living in fear of reprisals for his collaboration.

"Anyway, this one day I was home alone. My mother was in the hospital, he had beaten her that bad. She lied about the reason.

"In the early afternoon, my father began drinking. By suppertime, he was drunk. He started punching me, calling me by my mother's name, swearing and screaming at me. Then he raped me. I was then fifteen years old — a year younger than you — and I was a virgin.

"I remember lying there, feeling torn and battered, empty, mostly empty as if I were not in touch with myself. And I remember his breath foul with garlic.

"After a while he began to sober up and realize what he had done. He begged me for forgiveness, but I just lay there. Eventually he fell forward with his head on my breasts, sobbing like a baby. I was filled with revulsion."

"Did you tell anyone?" Crystal asked softly.

"No, but my mother suspected. Shortly after that I was sent to Montreal to continue my education. That's where I met my husband. That's where I got married. And that's the end of the story."

"I hate men!" Crystal said. "Especially my father."

"Well that's good, sweetheart. That's the way to be. Besides, I can satisfy you like no man ever can."

"Then why did you get married if you feel the way I do?"

"That's a long story," Suzannah said, glancing at the clock. "I don't have time to tell you, though I wish I did. I don't want you ever making the same mistake. Let's just say that I was blinded by the color red. The man was old enough to be my father and maybe that's what I wanted — a replacement. I was young and stupid. What more can be said?"

Suzannah let go of the girl and retreated several paces. She stood with her legs apart, her head held high, her backbone erect. She looked the girl up and down, smiling, and thought: I can't wait any longer. It's time to reel her in.

According to the clock on the wall, it was 12:28 a.m.

"Crystal," Suzannah said slowly. "I must ask you a question. Listen before you answer. Okay?"

The girl nodded.

"The moment I saw you this afternoon, I knew we were the same. That's why I followed you from the laundry after work and sat beside you in that greasy little restaurant. You looked so alone. Have you enjoyed what we've done this evening?"

The girl nodded again.

"Well, there's no reason in the world that this must ever end. No one knows that you're here. No one knows that you're with me. And no one needs to know. Would you like that?"

Once more the nod.

"Good. Cause tomorrow night I'd like to take you to Europe. To London, Paris, Rome. I'd like to buy you fine clothes. I'd like to give you all the cocaine you want. I'd like to spend just hours and hours playing with your pussy, getting you so hot you think you're going to melt. Sound like fun?"

The girl swallowed.

"Here," Suzannah said. "Let's run away for good." She pulled open a flat drawer in the washstand and removed a stack of $100 bills which she tossed to the girl. Crystal's mouth dropped. The bills slipped through her fingers and tumbled to the floor.

"Go on. Pick them up. They're yours," the woman said. "That's $10,000 lying at your feet. And that's just spending money."

"Where did you get that?" the girl exclaimed, her voice breaking in a croak.

"Why, from the man before the guest who comes tonight. The one this evening will bring another twenty grand with him. And once he's finished, well then we're off and free. I'll have made $100,000 off Mardi Gras this year. Not bad for two weeks' work, eh?"

The girl said nothing. She stared at the stack of money with a dumbfounded look on her face.

"Crystal," Suzannah said softly, "it's time to answer that question. Do you want to stay with me — or shall we call it a night and you can return to your job at the laundry? The decision is yours."

In a flash, the girl was across the space between them and cradled in the woman's arms. Warm tears touched Suzannah's shoulder where the glove joined her corset. As the woman whispered, "That's my girl," over and over again, she caught a glimpse of the two of them in the washstand mirror. This one was easy, she thought with a smile. Once you know the market of life — and what people need to buy.

For a moment longer she held the girl, then gently pulled away. "No turning back, dear, is that agreed?"

"Yes," Crystal said.

"Good. Let's have some more cocaine."

Back in the room with the masks, Suzannah drifted over to the middle door in the wall on the left and pulled it open. Beyond the jamb a spiral staircase disappeared below. "Come on," Suzannah said, "there's something weird to see." Her words held out adventure like honey to a cub.

Together they descended, twisting around and around on the iron steps, past the main floor and on down to the basement. Suzannah opened a hidden trap door and a gust of stale damp air swept up and out of the black pit that yawned beneath it.

Ever so faintly from below came the murmur of running water. Then as Crystal's heart pounded against her rib cage, Suzannah picked up a torch, climbed into the hole and disappeared down a rusted iron ladder.

Crystal followed.

As she descended the girl could feel the walls sweating and dripping with the ooze of centuries. When the ladder ended the two of them continued on down a narrow flight of stone steps. Crystal had counted twenty-six before a wail of anguish

from off to the right brought her to a halt. Her muscles locked tight and for a second she froze.