Chapter 1 -- Coming Down
I never did like coming down. Not now, not when I was with the
firm, and definitely not when I was in the East. Damn, those were
some crazy wild ass years. The years all blur together, like
looking at a girl through the bottom of a whisky bottle.
Singapore, Hong Kong when it was wild, Bangkok. Damn Joy Town.
That hell hole really fucked me up. The plane was bumping,
groaning, rain streaked over the tiny porthole. Not even first
class. Worse, can't even get a decent drink. When you are on the
run, you travel economy on unheard of, discount lines. The
stewardess repeated for the umteenth time "fasten your seat
belts," in a dull, plain voice. "We will be landing in twenty
minutes." Tired from overwork, her smile had long since
disappeared, now it was a barely masked snarl. The tie of her
uniform was skewed. It was the same blue but the material
lighter, cheaper and definitely not as elegant as the royal blue
of British Airways. Like her, attractive enough but not as
refined as...
Best not to think of that now. Better to nap...
Refined and elegant, blue jacket and skirt under long sculptured
legs. Navy blue heels dangle from her toe, but she won't let them
fall. They kick out madly, swinging above her waist, slicing the
stale air above her discarded uniform. Her arms are slender, not
made for supporting her weight, but now she hangs from them, a
single rope digs into the milky white of each delicate wrist. Her
pain is else where.
"Take her down! Take her down, you have me!" she cries to the
woman.
The woman has her back to her. Black hair falls long and heavy to
her waist. A tiny waist, narrow hips, a tiny band of black vinyl
for a skirt, tall spike heels. The woman is pulling the plaid
skirt from the shrieking young girl. It comes away with a ripping
sound, leaving fleshy legs, pale and bare dancing in the air.
"Let my daughter go. You don't need her. You have me. Take me!
Sarah. Oh my Sarah." the elegant woman wails. "Sarah!"
The skirt falls away, the woman admires the naked girl's body and
turns around. It is Tam, the Thai whore trainer only her face is
a skull.
"Mister! Wake up! Are you all right?"
"Where? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Just another bad dream, that's all."
Relieved that nothing more is expected of her, the stewardess
forces a quick smile and says, "You should see someone about
that. Go to therapy or something. You were screaming, your face
is covered with sweat. Are you sure that you're OK? Now fasten
your seat belt, we will be landing in five minutes."
I don't know which of us will be happier to end this damnflight.
+++++
The airport is crowed. A sea of faces. I have taken to scanning
faces with my chin down. I don't need to catch the eye of some
overly ambitious, still wet behind the ears agent. I hurried
through the crowd, and stopped dead cold in my tracks. Passengers
spilled all around me.
Poised and relaxed Roxanne Bodwell sat with the other
stewardesses by the gate. Older, but the same woman, I would have
recognize her anywhere.
"Hey, get out of the way, Mister. Some of us want to get off the
plane." one of my fellow passengers shouted.
She looked up towards the commotion. There was no avoiding her
now.
Slowly she stood, her eyes fixed on mine. Their conversation
drifted to a stop, as the girls watched her stand and slowly walk
towards me. I pushed through the crowd to meet her halfway. Her
mouth opened but she was silent. Her face was drawn, older than I
remembered, but the same irrepressible sea green eyes. Still, her
face was harder, more drawn. Tiny lines ran from the corners of
her eyes. Her jaw line was as proud as ever. She was still
beautiful, a mature beauty, like the fine wine that she was. She
always had been a woman of character. Even when she was naked,
whipped and crying, but defiant, trusting herself, always facing
adversity with dignity and character. That character was what
made it so tough for her when I sold her to some shit hole sex
club in Joy Town. Sold her and her daughter into a lifetime of
fulfilling every sexual deviant's craziest fantasies. But I guess
that same character is also what gave her a will to survive.
Survive as a sex slave and now turn up here, a world away, a
different world, a different time.
"What are you doing here?"
"I fly for the airline," Roxanne pointed to the counter.
"I mean, here. Last time I saw you was in Joy Town. Big man Vopat
was grinning like a fool. He was all over you. That must have
been seven, eight years ago."
"Nine. You had just sold Sarah and I, back to that prick. You
bastard, you sold us twice! Bastard! For years I have dreamed
about meeting you, and what I would say, but now."
"Roxy, we have to board." A heavy set stewardess was calling.
Another pulled a suitcase through the gate. "Roxy?"
"You were with British Airways. A prestigious line. Why did you
hook up with this screwed up shuttle outfit?"
"I couldn't go back. Not after all that. Here they let me fly a
few flights a week. Part time, you know. They are not much, the
pay is shit, but it is flying. Maybe one day I will give it
another go." She brushed her wavy blonde hair from her eyes.
"Just a minute!" she called to her companion without turning
away. "There are bad days and not so bad days. I get therapy two
days a week and work out. I keep busy."
We were talking, as if two old friends, meeting late in the
evening. She still held the strap, her suitcase tethered behind
like a terrier. I guess we were old friends. The devil knows that
I have known her as well as any man has ever had a woman. I took
her body, her sex and her fears. I used her in every way
possible, and as brutally as I wanted, both mentally and
sexually. Chained in my apartment, she depended upon me for the
time of day, and even permission to speak.
"And you? I thought ass holes like you could only existed in Joy
Town." She looked me straight in the face.
"I guess, I deserve that. Still, I remember how glad you were
when I took you out of Candy Land."
"Roxanne! We must board now!" The lady had her hands on her ample
hips. "Do you hear me?" she yelled.
Roxanne turned to face her, "Yes, I hear you. Everyone can hear
you. Now bugger off you dizzy bitch."
"Roxanne! What has gotten into you? You are so fired!" She
stormed off down the boarding ramp, her big ass swaying.
Again she faced me, her voice returning to her arousing tone,
"Yes. As bad as you were, there were worse. Like that Thai
bitch.." Those green eyes turned glossy. "She caused me more pain
than any man."
A distorted voice slurred something about another flight
boarding. A line began to form.
"But you sold us back. Why? We belonged to you. We worked to
please you. You taught us to anticipate your every desire. In
bed, you debased us, humiliated my daughter and I for your
amusement. I thought we were doing well. Did we not please you?
Why did you sell us back to him? A man doesn't know what a woman
goes through to mold herself, her sexual being to his pleasures.
Then to immediately have to reform yourself to learn a new man. A
man can never understand the misery. You disappear. There is
nothing left of Roxanne Bodwell. I would rather be whipped."
Her voice trailed off. People were staring, but Roxanne was lost
in her own personal hell. I recognized it. I had the horrid
dreams too. I took her arm. Tight, up high just under her
shoulder, where it was damp, like how I use to lead her to the
bedroom. No explanation, I didn't need any then. She fell in step
beside me. In just the way she was trained.
We walked the length of the concourse to the baggage area.
"Where are you taking me? This is not Joy Town, you know? I could
scream. I bet you would prefer to avoid the authorities. Men like
you always do." She always was smart.
Outside was dark. A pair of overweight cops lounged just inside
the exit. "Stop. Let me go." She said it softly, but it was not a
request. Each cop had a Smith & Wesson, and at least fifty pounds
on me. Better to run to the next door than try to barge through.
"Tell me, what are you doing here?" she wanted to know.
I turned to watch the cops out of the corner of my eye. "I had to
get out. I was in too deep. When you know too much it becomes
unhealthy. The syndicate realized I was worth more dead than
alive. Without me there were no witnesses to name names, clubs,
girls, the parties. I ran, before they had to carry me out."
I shut up. I had said more than I intended. I was talking to a
woman that had satisfied my every desire. Sex slaves are like
that, you do anything under the sun that you want with them. You
don't have to hide anything, for they are nothing, just a fuck
toy. It becomes easy to open up, to say too much. Too easy.
Her face, a girl's ass bent over it, I can't remember whose. Her
mouth is open, tongue white with cum and sticking out, pressed
close to that delicious ass. Two holes, an ass, a mouth, a slug
of Klosters beer ice cold going down, I wipe my mouth with the
back of my hand, dick hard and plunge in.
"You get them too?" She is right looking through me. "The
flashbacks, you get them too?" she repeats.
She holds unkempt blond locks to one side, to give me a clear
view of her head working my tool. She has been careful of her
hair since Tam threatened to shave her head. While she sucks, I
admire Tam's handiwork. Whip marks criss-cross her back making a
waffle pattern of red stripes across milky white flesh as her
head bobs, engulfing my cock.
"No. it's nothing. Just another damn headache. Nothing a drink
wouldn't cure."
"We are two peas in a pod, Joe. You and I. You used me. Fucked my
body, fucked my mind and used me up, but it consumed you too."
She waited until it registered in my face, then added, "Now we
can go."