Chapter
5
Vanessa sat in her car outside the lawyer’s office. The warmth of the afternoon made her
dress stick to her body, and she longed to take it off. Silk was supposed to be comfortable in
the heat, but every bead of sweat stained it, and as it got damp it stuck
obscenely between her legs.
The lawyer had
refused to let her stay in his office while he was in court. It was strange. She had expected a high-rise building,
with a receptionist, a secretary, and young lawyers like you saw on LA Law on
t.v. But here, it was a three
storey building, with doors off the corridor, into single offices. Not very romantic, or businesslike,
either. Sort of cheesy.
But once she had gotten into the lawyer’s office, everything
had changed. She thought back to
the décor, which spoke of money and taste. His oak desk was massive, and his leather chair well
designed and upholstered. There
was thick green carpeting, and several designer client chairs. A small alcove off the office had a
second desk, a computer, pictures of two attractive kids, and oddly enough, a
large, filagree-framed mirror. A
sculpture of that blind justice lady sat on his desk. No pictures of a wife.
On the walls, Attorney Samuelson had original art in
impeccable, if slightly bland, taste, except for one unusual painting of a
street scene, vibrant, intoxicating and notable. Running along the back wall was a sofa. Thank goodness for that.
Vanessa searched her memory until she was able to recall
that the women’s rest room had been down the hall from Samuelson’s office, on
the right hand side. She needed to
pee, and the more she thought about that fact, the more urgent it became. She looked around, and seeing no one,
she opened her car door. Walking
quickly but fluidly, to avoid any on-looker’s notice, she made her way back to
the building. Samuelson had been
on the third floor, and she had taken an elevator when she had arrived. The elevator had been slow, and in her
anxiety, it seemed that it had taken several minutes to navigate from the lobby
to Attorney Samuelson’s office.
This time she saw that there were stairs, broad and inviting, curving up
from the far end of the lobby. She
headed that way. The call of
nature was becoming irresistible.
Vanessa turned right at the top of the stairs. But the hall seemed to end too soon,
and there was neither rest-room nor the office she had left twenty minutes
before. She turned around and
hurried back the other way. It
occurred to her that the rest-room would be locked. What would she do then? Having thought she was near relief, her need had become
intolerable. She would have to
knock on one of these other doors and beg for a key. If only she could find the room.
Vanessa rushed heedlessly down the hall, no longer taking
care to move purposefully but invisibly.
Anyone opening an office door would see and remember her, but at this
point she no longer cared. At
last, she found the door with the circle and the figure with the dress. Pushing it, she was beyond joy to find
that the door opened. She had her
dress up by her waist before the door had even closed, and she found herself
moaning with relief as she let loose.
Patting herself dry, she stood to pull up her black lace
thong. She had carefully chosen it
for its visual appeal, in furtherance of her plan for the attorney. As she adjusted the elastic it caught
on her long, red fingernail.
Annoyed, she tried to shake it loose, but it wouldn’t come free. Not wanting to break a nail, she pulled
the thong off past her ankles, and held it up to undo the snag. Just at the moment it came free, the
door opened. She had not even
thought to throw the bolt. She froze,
dress hiked up and her panties, such as they were, in her hands.
The two men in dark suits were on either side of her. One put his hand over her mouth, the
other pulled her hands behind her.
“Thanks for the show, Vanessa.
Or, the overture, anyway.”
She struggled against their grip, but she knew immediately that it was
useless.
“You’re lucky, Vanessa. Mitch here wanted to nab you while you were dashing around
the hall. I let you pee
first. Didn’t want you to mess up
my van!” Derek smiled. He was very, very handsome, and he knew
it. His black hair, dark eyes, and
lanky, loose-limbed body, sheathed in the expensive dark summer weight wool
suit, turned heads on the street.
He had a lovely smile, white teeth, and a strong but not melodramatic
chin. He pulled Vanessa’s hands
higher behind her back.
Mitch was not ugly either. Older than Derek, perhaps forty, he had sandy hair gone
pale, and narrow blue eyes. His
enormous hand covered Vanessa’s mouth and face easily. He prided himself on being a lot
smarter than Derek, and a lot more powerful. But he liked working with Derek. The ladies liked Derek, and the gentlemen did too. And so did Mitch. “Lets get out of here, folks, before
some poor unsuspecting gal walks in.”
Mitch pushed the door open with his free hand and the two
men escorted Vanessa out into the hall.
As they were passing the first office door, Vanessa flung herself hard
into Derek, and twisted away from Mitch.
“Damn it,” Derek said, lunging for her. She opened her mouth to scream. Anything to get someone’s attention in one of these
offices. But before the first
sound could come out of her mouth, a rag was stuffed into it.
Vanessa tried to spit it out. Derek had hold of her hands again, this time in an iron grip
that there was no escaping. The
cloth tasted foul, of gasoline or alcohol, and Vanessa gagged as she tried to
rid herself of it. Mitch chuckled.
“Four seconds, Vanessa. Three, two, one.”
* * *
Vanessa slumped over in a faint, the chloroform having
worked its magic. The two thugs
lifted her quickly into the stairwell, and rushed her down the steps. Looking for observers and seeing none,
they slipped her into the back of the van they had waiting at the door.
“Wow, Mitch.
Good thinking on the knock out cloth. I would never have thought to bring it.” Derek smiled happily at Mitch.
“Well, buddy, it was just a regular precaution,” Mitch said,
his hand on Derek’s shoulder.
Mitch kept his hand there, just a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of
those hard muscles under the suit.
Derek nodded appreciatively, then turned his attention to
their prey. He liked Mitch just
fine, and he was used to the fact that men and women loved to look at him,
touch him, and want him. If he
would have swung that way, Mitch would have been a mighty attractive
gentleman. But as it was, he
couldn’t wait to get the clothes off of the beautiful Vanessa.
He had seen Vanessa at the casino every day for six months,
and every day he imagined her naked.
He wasn’t particularly predatory, he just entertained himself as he
walked his security rounds, thinking of Vanessa naked, on the floor of the
casino, or on his bed, or in the back of his van. Which was where she was now. Still clothed, of course, but as she regained consciousness,
he would see to it that the clothes were shed. But he wanted her awake. He wasn’t into necrophilia.
And besides, his instructions had been very clear. Deliver her, nude, by four o’clock. He could do what he wanted before then,
but he had to use a condom. And no
bruises, marks, cuts, or other damage.
Wow. It had been really
smart of Mitch to bring the drug.
She would be a lot more compliant that way.
* * *
Vanessa tried to open her big green eyes, but they felt too
heavy. They’d gotten her. She was helpless. It was all over. She felt hands on her, as her dress was
opened at the deep V. She should
resist. Make them fight her. But to what end? At least they were good looking. She sighed.
“Wake up, Vanessa.”
She felt the sting of a slap on her cheek. Furious, her eyes snapped open. She quickly closed them again, but not before Derek had seen
her react.
“Stop it, Mitch!
We’re not supposed to hurt her!”
“That’s not going to hurt her. And besides, we want her awake. I don’t know about you, Derek, but there’s more fun to be
had here than watching you screw a limp broad.”
“Like what?”
Derek sounded confused. Vanessa opened her eyes a slit. Derek was kneeling over her, his hands on her dress, ready
to pull it apart. She could not
see Mitch, but he had to be near her face, since evidently he was the one who
had slapped her.
“She knows where the money is, Derek. Maybe she’ll be willing to help us out
a bit, you know, in exchange for nicer treatment.”
Derek looked astonished. “You’d betray Mike?”
Vanessa held herself very, very still. If Mitch realized she had heard, and
Derek didn’t go along with him, she would be in a lot worse danger than unwanted
sex with Derek, with Mike, and God only knows, maybe Mitch too. No, she would be in for far worse. She would be fried chicken.
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