Life Interrupted Pt. 09

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is copy written by the author.

Life Interrupted Part IX

Stop the Cop?

Before I awoke on Monday morning, Charlie was already gone. He didn't even make the coffee. I was a little stunned by that, as it was one of his primary jobs around the house. After this weekend, however, I did not blame him. Our Master had me fuck dozens of men in front of him and had captured it all on video, a copy of which we returned home with.

Needless to say, I was all kinds of sore all over and considered calling out from work, but thought the better of it. Even though I had a big old hickey on my neck, and several where you couldn't see them. I'd cover the neck hickey with makeup; the rest I would let heal on their own. It hid it pretty well from my workmates, except for Pam, who was all over it.

"Nice hickey, Luce. Shitty job covering it up." She said as we gathered our morning coffee out of the earshot of our coworkers. "Let's go to the ladies' room and get you fixed up."

We went to the little girl's room, and she did a much better job than I did covering up the love bite on my neck. She had a better concealer in her handbag which, along with my regular powder, did a much better job of hiding the damned thing.

"So, girl. I know your Charlie didn't give you this thing. 'Fess up and let Aunt Pam know everything."

Not gonna happen, but it gave me an opening to pursue a task Urban had set before me.

"How'd you like to meet the one who gave it to me? From my experience, he will be a welcome addition to your stable. And he's a world class pussy eater. I'll bet he's even better than your surfer boy, Terry."

"I don't know, girl. Terry is world class. Best I ever had. What do you think? Maybe we can put together a double date and find out."

BINGO! I'll bet Urban would just love that. I know it's been a while since a white boy ate my pussy and from what Pam says this guy is the ticket. I immediately wondered if my Master would allow it. Charlie was my last white man, and I was under the impression things would stay that way.

"Let me talk to him and see what we can arrange. Maybe on the weekend if you can make yourself available. And your new boy toy."

"How about Wednesday? We could do the Roost again. It was lucky for us last time."

"Yeah, but this time we don't have to hunt. Wednesday is probably out. I have an obligation that night. Maybe Friday. Weekends are best for me. You know, recovery time and all that."

"I'll talk to Terry and let you know what's good for him."

When I got back to my desk, the first thing I did was call Mort Humphrey, to see if I could set up a Wednesday date. He did not pick up, however, and the call went to voicemail. I didn't leave a message but he'd know I called. If I did not hear from him by the end of the day, I would try him again, although I didn't want to sound desperate.

As Pam and I sat eating our lunch, my phone rang. It was Mort. I excused myself and took the call.

"Hey there, handsome, lookin' for a date?"

"With you? Sure. How about Wednesday again? It worked out pretty well for us last time."

"I'll say. I'm still sore." Which was only a half-lie. I was sore alright, but not from him.

"Well then, I'll just have to let up on you a little next time."

"Don't you dare, buster. Your act had an impact and I like it."

"Touche'. I'll do my best to meet expectations."

"Can I just come to you this time, and cut out the Roost?"

"Ab-so-lutely." And he gave me his address, and we agreed to meet at around six at his place.

As soon as I hung up with Mort, I called my Master.

"So, you've got a date with this cop on Wednesday, Lu? Good work. On Tuesday night, you are going to have a visitor. One of my white boys will be bringing something to you and will let you know what to do. Are you on board?"

"Oh, yes, my Master. One hundred percent. And I have news of Pam."

"Tell me."

"We are trying to hook up a double date for Friday. Maybe share a hotel room, or..."

"Double date? I'd really rather have her alone."

"I'll see if I can make that happen, Master, but once she experiences you for the first time, I assure you that you will get your one on one with her. She won't be able to resist. And you will see when you meet her that the first meeting will be worth it. Are you going to have a problem with me fucking a white man?"

"I don't like it, but I see it as a means to an end. So, I can justify it, although I expect you will wind up more disappointed than I."

"I expect you're right, Master, but it's the small sacrifices that we make for our Master that count."

"And they add up. Good first steps, Lu. After your Tuesday visit, we'll talk, so you are totally aware of what your most important job will be on Wednesday."

"Yes, my Master, I will speak with you then."

"How is Charlie holding up?"

"After yesterday, he is struggling a bit. I think him watching me get fucked by all those men had an effect on him. He won't even talk to me."

"You've got to get that under control, Lu. If you lose control of Charles, it is the worst thing that can happen to you. Confront him and take it back. Take back control and set him straight. You will both be better for it."

"Yes, my Master. I'll do that."

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I put a roast beef with veggies in the crock pot this morning and it was on simmer when I got home. Charlie wasn't far behind and the aroma of slow cooked meat and potatoes was in the air. He came in and was polite.

"Good evening, Mistress. Everything smells delicious. How may I serve?"

"Just stand down, Charles. Take a load off. The roast is done and anytime you are ready, we sit down to eat. Table's made."

Charlie went upstairs for a few and came back down in his light blue summer pajamas. Let him be comfortable. Good that he is comfortable, because the conversation won't be.

"Charles, would you like some wine with dinner or a beer?"

"Would you share a glass of wine with me, Mistress?"

"Would you uncork something?"

"It would be my honor, Mistress."

A nice Pinot Noir was poured, and we were served and sat down to eat.

"Dinner is delicious, Mistress. I can't remember ever tasting better."

"How nice of you to say, Charles. Charles, we have to talk."

"I know, Mistress. I've been bad and I apologize. Please do what you will with me."

Boy, did that catch me off guard. He accepts his guilt and presents himself for punishment. Now what do I do?

"Talk to me like I am ten and explain to me what is going on in your head. I can't read your mind."

"I'll try not to be inappropriate again. You are a goddess and should be treated like one 24/7."

"Just keep that attitude, soldier. I have another errand to run for Master on Wednesday. I'm not sure how late I'll be."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Tomorrow someone is coming from Urban to talk to me about the business on Wednesday."

"Yes, Mistress. Anything else?"

"I don't think so. Continue to stand down for the time being."

"Tell me about your tattoo. I still haven't really seen it without its dressing on." He took his pajama shirt off and showed me the tattoo of a playing card. It was about the right size and was the Jack of Spades. No doubt something derisive and identifying him as a cuckold of a Queen of Spades who serves a black master, who is of course the King.

We finished dinner, and Charlie did the dishes and I cleared the table and dispatched with the leftovers.

"Do you mind if I go to bed, Mistress? I have a long day tomorrow and probably won't be home until after nine."

Perfect. Now whatever business I have to transact on Tuesday night will be held close to the vest and away from Charlie's prying eyes.

"Nah. Go to bed. You need your rest. I'll be fine tomorrow."

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The only thing notable at work on Tuesday was Pam's excitement about Terry being all in on Friday night. I couldn't wait to tell Urban. He'll be very pleased. And if he's not, he always has me.

At about quarter to seven, as I was watching my gang-bang on my laptop, my cell phone rang. It was Evelyn... Jiggles. She said that they pulled up to my driveway and asked if my husband was home?

"No, he probably won't be home for a couple of hours."

"Then we're coming in."

No sooner that, than I heard the doorbell ring. And there they were, Jiggles and her husband. I let them in.

"We'll be brief, Lu. My husband, Brandon, and I are Master Urban's tech gurus. What we have here are a couple of patch transmitters. You are to place one under the mattress and one under a drawer in the kitchen. They have a peel off to reveal a sticky side so they will stay in place. Try to place the one centered on the mattress so it is less likely to be found. At least in the short run. Those two simple things and your job is done. Do you understand, Lu?"

"I think so."

"You can't think so, you must know. Is there anything about what you have to do that you need me to explain to you?"

"No, Ev. It all sounds pretty simple."

"I hope it is. You just have to time what you do so that he does not catch you doing it. The consequences will be grave if he does. Now do you understand."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Brandon, take me home."

"Yes, Mistress. Goodnight, Mistress Lu."

"Goodnight to you both." And I stood there at the door as they went to their car. I looked down at the packet containing the two bugs and started to worry. 'What is this slippery slope I find myself on?'

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All day Wednesday, I was a nervous wreck. I got a text from Mort with his address and I would plug it into my navigation system at the end of the day and leave right from work. I must have checked my handbag for those bugs a dozen times during the day just to make sure I had them.

I was no longer sore down there and I was looking forward to being with Mort. The thought of me in his bed was enticing, and I kept losing my focus all day thinking about what he brings to the table... to the bedroom too.

He lived just inside the city, in a small twin ranch house. Very accessible; very nice. Getting there was easy and took less than half an hour. As I parked along the street in front of his house, I shook I was so nervous. As I walked toward his front door, I tried to think of an excuse for my nervousness.

"Lucille, are you alright? You look a little peaked."

"I just almost got into a car accident. Damned fool swerved right into my lane. Thought I was a goner. But then the asshole swerved back, and I got past him without accident or incident. Just this nervous tick I'm starting to get."

"Don't worry about that; I have something for that."

No, my man, I'm afraid you have nothing for what I've got. But what you got, I'm sure, will help.

"Luce, before we get started, there are some things we must discuss. Come into the dining room."

Knowing that I had to put one of the listening devices in the kitchen, I left my bag containing the devices in there and joined Mort in the dining room.

"Luce, there are some things I have to tell you and show you. First of all, your boy Urban is one bad hombre. The things he has done will make your hair stand on end, or turn it gray. It was only a few months ago that we picked up his scent, and seen some of his activity. That tattoo you wear where your pubic hair isn't any more. I've told you that I've seen it before. Here are some examples."

And he opened a portfolio and started throwing out files fronted by pictures. Some full body, and some exclusively focusing on the tattoo that was just like mine, except for the different numbers.

"Number forty-seven, Bella Caruso, deceased at age twenty-five. Found in a local park tied to a tree with her throat cut." His whole demeanor had changed as he rattled off the status of the dead woman. He sounded so official, but so offended at what had happened to this poor woman.

"Then there's number thirty-two, Tammy Signet, current age twenty-eight. Found on a city sidewalk with a needle in her arm. In recovery and protective custody. She was one of the lucky ones." And he shook his head like he didn't believe what he just said.

"Alberta Miller, twenty-five, who wore number twenty-eight, called us and tried to escape from his clutches, but he must have gotten to her first, because when we found her, she was hanging from the ceiling fan in her apartment. Her husband was found with her with his head bashed in. No mystery, only a pry bar with only her fingerprints on it. Everything else we have on the guy is only circumstantial evidence. We have nothing solid and no living witnesses." Then he looked at me with intent. He's gonna ask for something, I just know it.

"We need someone on the inside, Luce. Someone who could be our direct line to Urban Mann, or whatever his name is. If you could get me something with his fingerprints, or a lock of his hair for DNA. As far as we know, this guy has no record and we have no evidence of an Urban Mann on file anywhere. But you have to be careful, Luce. This guy is no joke, as you can see from the files."

"Is this guy a murderer? What else is he? Tell me. I need to know."

"We expect him to be a human trafficker. We believe he recruits young couples and blackmails them into his service. Then he trains them, breaks them, works them as prostitutes and then sells them on the black market when they will make him the most. Especially the females. And yes, we expect he has either hit or contracted hits on several people, including the ones I just named. I have more if you want to hear. I have over a dozen more dead, missing or rescued girls; none of whom can or will tell us anything about Urban."

I started looking through some of the files. They were all faced with a photograph. Some of the faces, others of the tattoo in the groin, and a couple full body shots. But mostly of the dead ones. I was getting a little queasy and, on many levels, not feeling very sexy.

Mort excused himself to go to the bathroom and bid me look at the files to see if I could make any sense of it all. It would be the perfect time to drop the bug in the kitchen. Half of my job would be done. But could I do it?

How can I face this? I've never felt this all alone. Who can I trust to tell what I know about Urban's affairs. Can I trust Mort? He's so official, and he's one of the good ones. Then there is Urban, and how can I look at him the same anymore. Not with what I now know about him.

And if I don't plant the bugs, what penalty will I pay for that? The only escape I have is to go with the cops; take Charlie with me. Leave it all behind. Rat out Urban. That could cost me my friends, my livelihood, my life. Urban's in deep and they potentially have a lot on him, but he's slippery, and he carefully chooses who he brings into his closed circle, of which I am now a part.

If I do plant the bugs and walk away from Mort, I become complicit in Urban's enterprise and guilty of probably a dozen crimes, including prostitution. What have I become. A common whore for black men. I have let my preferences get the better of me. And I am branded for life. Living under Urban's blackmail.

Whatever I decide, I'd better do it quickly.

Dearest Reader: Thank you for making it this far. I desperately want to finish this story, but I just can't without your encouragement. Please, Please, Please give me a star rating and comment. I'll be happy to answer any comments here or via email if you are bold enough to post as yourself. The better my star rating the more people will read my work. And I really would like that. Really. Thanks MPW