Sold!..To The Highest Bidder Read online

  The telephone number was in my phone book. He was a detective, on the metropolitan police sex crime investigation unit. He dealt with hookers, johns and pimps as well as some of the more high profile cases involving—ironically enough—white slavery. We’d worked together on a couple of cases last year. He was as gung ho as I was about getting girls off the streets. He had a heart, and he really worked hard for justice.

  He’d also been interested in me personally, though I hadn’t been up to a serious relationship at the time. We’d dated a few times casually and parted on good terms. The point was, I could use all of this now to good advantage. I rarely played on my femininity to accomplish my goals, but this was an emergency. Besides, it was for a good cause.

  His name was Randy Meyer. He was sandy haired, age thirty-four, divorced with two children, a boy seven and a girl ten. His brown eyes were compassionate. He was a cyclist and a marksman, taking top prize each year at the police Olympics. Under different circumstances, were I not so involved in my job, I could even have fallen in love with the man.

  It was a lucky break—or so I thought—that I still had the man’s card, with his cell phone number scribbled on the back. He answered on the second ring, sounding out of breath.

  “I’m training,” he told me. “Right now, I’m half way up the Crager Canyon Road. Can I call you back?”

  “This is important, Randy. An emergency.”

  “What is it, Emerald?”

  I felt instant relief at the sound of his cop-like voice, full of authority and concern. “I’m in trouble. I—I can’t talk on the phone. Can we meet?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” I breathed, closer to tears than I cared to admit.

  “Give me an hour,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll meet you at the Galleria, at that coffee place we went to once. Do you remember the one?”

  “Yes, yes,” I cried, betraying my total trust in the man. “I do. But Randy, I’m scared.”

  “You want me to send a cruiser?”

  For a moment I considered the offer. It would be an easy out for me, but the arrival of uniformed police would tip off Rainier and give the man a chance to send Krissy off God knows where. “No, thank you, Randy. I’ll be all right. I can make it.”

  As soon as I hung up, I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt over a basic set of white underwear, utilitarian and decidedly not sexy. If anyone had told me I would be having sex with Randy that day I wouldn’t have believed it. Nor would I have accepted the other things that would also happen.

  In my mind, I was half way to victory and closing fast. I even started humming as I combed out my long tresses and tied them back in a ponytail. I was downright giddy as I put on my tiny socks and trusty running shoes. It was like being a spy, or a private detective. It was when I picked up the purse with the cell phone in it that I remembered that Rainier might be able to track me. So far he’d known my every move. How would I get out of the building without him knowing? If I were followed, the whole plan could blow up in my face.

  I had to sneak out some other way. But how? I had my car and I could go out the garage entrance with it, but still, I’d be a hard target to miss. That’s when I remembered my elderly neighbor Mrs. Collins and her 1987 Buick which she had me drive for her once a week to keep it running smoothly. She’d given me a set of keys. I could take the vehicle and no one would know, not her, and certainly not anyone whom Rainier might have spying on me.

  Was it ethical, though? Again, I told myself it was life and death. Mrs. Collins would understand. When this was all over, in fact, I’d invite her to dinner, she and Krissy. We’d dine at the Wyatt House, sipping champagne and laughing over the crazy, scary story about a dastardly white slave trader. It would be a story with a happy ending, were the villain gets his just reward.

  Donning dark glasses and a baseball cap to complete the disguise, I headed downstairs. I was alone in the elevator and saw no one in the garage. Saturdays are usually cool like that. The faithful old car, still shiny as new with only eight thousand miles on it, started like a dream. My luck had changed, I decided as I slipped nice as can be out onto the street and down to the mall.

  Near as I can tell, I wasn’t followed. There certainly was no sign of any evil bikers or men with whips. Just your regular Saturday mall crowd. Randy was waiting for me at the coffee shop. He was looking better than I’d remembered with his faded jeans and Hawaiian shirt. As he hugged me I felt the outline of his gun, and I got that warm, safe feeling all over again. I remembered how he’d told me once that cops liked Hawaiian shirts because you could wear them untucked, easily hiding a pistol beneath them.

  “Em, thank God you’re okay.” His breath went right into my ear. I started melting at once. I’d forgotten how he always called me by that silly nickname. Generally I detested diminutives of my name, but coming from him somehow it had always seemed sweet. Appropriate, somehow.

  I looked into his eyes, more overcome with emotion than I’d anticipated. “I am now, Randy.”

  His hand went to the small of my back, instinctively guiding me to the wrought iron chair at the tiny round table. “Sit down,” he coaxed. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  There was a double latte waiting for me--my beverage of choice. “You remembered,” I smiled.

  Randy took his own seat. “I remember everything about you, Em. A woman like you is one in a million; don’t you forget that.”

  I could feel my cheeks pinkened. Despite my terror, I was enjoying the attention, the flirting. “I remember you, too, Randy; a man among men.”

  He sipped from a cup of black coffee, cop plain. “Talk, Em.”

  I proceeded to explain everything from the beginning. From my meeting with Gustav Rainier and before that what I’d learned of him from seeing Krissy half naked and at his obvious sexual disposal. I didn’t pull a single punch, not even when it came to the things Rainier had manipulated me into doing. There wasn’t any shame in it, and certainly not any impropriety. The man had coerced me. He’d been in a power position over me and compelled me into sexual activities against my natural proclivities. He was depraved, a virtual rapist. Not to mention a complete cad.

  Randy’s features altered subtly as my story unfolded. Dark concern clouded his eyes. His brow knitted tighter and tighter. He sat back, too, his attitude becoming more clinical and reserved. I’d chalked it up to him putting on his ‘game face’ as a cop in preparation for going after Rainier. In my mind I fancied him a white knight, preparing to mount up and ride into battle with the man of blackness, the cold and cruel abuser of maidens everywhere.

  As I alluded to before, however, I was in for a rude awakening.

  “Tell me again about this bet,” Randy asked when I’d finally wound down.

  “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” My hand reached out to his, only to have him slide it back out of range. “He—he gave himself one month to ‘convert me’ as he put it to his way of life. He said he’d make me a slave.”

  “And you agreed to those terms.”

  “I did,” I replied, though it hadn’t seemed like a question.

  Randy took a long swallow of his coffee. “I know of this Rainier,” he replied, setting down the empty container. “He’s as dangerous as you say. More so, in fact. In this country he is limited in his actions, both as a leader and as a master of females. There are other places, though, where arrangements are, shall we say, looser.”

  “So you’ve been after him, then?” I queried hopefully. “You’re planning to bring him in? My information is helpful, right? You can use it to stop him? I mean, you should see Krissy. She’s such a sweet little thing. Pretty as a picture and so naïve. She has no idea what she’s let herself in for. Last night he even told me what he was doing to her—how he was using her. It was awful.”

  “What did he do to her exactly?”

  I described the penis gag and the ropes and how she was spread eagled on Rainier’s bed while he took her. It was g
raphic and painful for me, but the man needed evidence, or so I assumed. After all, he was a law officer, a police detective.

  “I’ve seen that type of mouth restraint,” he nodded gravely. “It’s a typical punishment used on white slaves. Although it can be an aphrodisiac as well. There are also ball gags, which fill a female slave’s mouth the way, say a handball might. They are strapped on behind the head. There’s also such a thing as an ‘O’ ring which is clamped in place behind a girl’s teeth by means of a clamp. When it’s in place, she can’t close her mouth or swallow. After just a few minutes in such a device, she’ll be soaked in her own drool. Not to mention being completely available for whatever a master might want to put down her throat. I’ve even seen penis gags of the type you described where the shaft is hollow. A tube can be run directly into it and any number of liquids can be delivered to the slave girl’s stomach without her being able to resist in any way.”

  I squeezed my legs together. Randy’s words were unnerving me, confusing me. “Liquids?” I repeated stupidly. “What liquids?”

  He shrugged, his shoulders moving very slightly beneath the Hawaiian shirt. I’d seen his naked torso once; it was impressive. Corded muscles, a ribbed abdomen and smooth biceps were among his many good features. “Use your imagination, Em. What would you make a slave girl drink if you were a master—a man?”

  I cocked my head. “I couldn’t be a master as a girl—as a woman, I mean?”

  Randy’s lips curled into a private smile as he noted my attempt to correct his ongoing diminution of my gender. “You tell me. Do you think you’re my physical equal?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”

  Randy leaned forward and put his hand on my arm. “You did the right thing coming to me, Em. You were more right than you knew when you said you were in over your head. I can help you, but you’ll have to trust me. You can’t let things stay as they are. What you’ve seen so far of Rainier and this so-called Cartel is the tip of the iceberg. Will you come with me for a ride? There are some things I’d like to check out.”

  His firm gaze held me, like a butterfly under a pin. “I do trust you, Randy, of course. Whatever you say. But what if he’s following me, what if. . .”

  A single finger to my lip silenced me. “You let me worry about all that, okay? You came to me; now I’ll handle the rest. Okay?”

  Wide eyed, I nodded. It was all I could do to resist kissing at his strong finger, licking it even. He was a man, a real man and he knew how to take care of me. If only I could show him how thankful I was.

  “Good.” He rose to his feet, snapping me from my reverie. “Let’s go then. We haven’t a moment to waste.”

  Randy had me follow him in his SUV. It was a big beige vehicle with a blue light built into the dashboard. I’d ridden in it once and it had made me uneasy, thinking of all that power under the hood—a perfect analogy for the man himself. I still didn’t know where we were going. I’d assumed it would be the police station, but we ended up at a downtown hotel instead.

  Randy had both vehicles valet parked as he hustled me into the main lobby.

  “Keep your head down,” he warned as we approached the front desk. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

  It must have been some kind of witness protection, I thought as we entered the elevator, the key to room 809 handily extracted from Randy’s front pocket. It seemed we might be there awhile, because he had a nylon bag over his shoulder, the kind men often carry to the gym. He didn’t say a word the whole way up. His face was all business and I was quite sure he considered himself ‘on duty’ from this moment forward.

  I looked at him with grateful eyes. He was my hero. Only shyness prevented me from offering him my thanks up front.

  “Come on,” he urged as soon as the doors opened.

  The hallway was quiet. No one seemed to be about. Randy fit the key into the door and opened it. “Ladies first,” he winked.

  I giggled, pleased to have a release from all that building tension. “Oh, Randy,” I exclaimed, noting the quaintly decorated room. “It’s lovely. There’s even a view.”

  Randy said nothing as he put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the knob and clicked the dead bolt in place.

  “Do you think we could order room service?” I called to him from the balcony, still clueless as to his real intent.

  “Come inside, Em.”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes,” I nodded. “The balcony isn’t safe is it? You know I could almost forget that. . .”

  I did a double take as I saw Randy standing there waiting for me, his leather belt in hand, the end of it trailing down to the multi-colored carpet. He’d removed his jacket, revealing the lines of his muscles under his shirt as well as the shoulder holster in which rested his semi-automatic pistol. His eyes were cold, calculating. His expression was darkly somber.

  I gulped. He was scaring me. “Randy?!”

  “Get undressed, Em.”

  I took a step backwards my hand at my breast. “What did you say?”

  He shook out the belt, letting it drag across the floor. “Your clothes, Em. Take them off. I want you naked.”

  “But—but I don’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand, Em? I’m a man, you’re a woman; I’m laying claim to you.”

  My eyes looked desperately over his shoulder to the door. Could I make it in time? “Randy, this is nonsense. I don’t understand. You’ve always been such a gentleman,” I smiled as charmingly as I could manage under the circumstances. “I know you can’t mean what you’re saying.”

  Randy caught me by the wrist as I tried to run past him. “On the contrary, Em,” he grinned savagely. “I mean every word of it.”

  The pressure on my wrist was like a vise. There was nowhere for me to go but down. “Please,” I whimpered as he brought me to my knees. “You’re hurting me.”

  “You think this is pain?” he laughed, caressing my cheek with the edge of the leather belt. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  The tears were welling in my eyes. “Why, Randy?” I blubbered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  His eyes began to glow more brightly. He looked like a cat about to spring a trap on a canary he’d been taunting. “Because, my dear,” he said very quietly. “Your friend Gustav Rainier also happens to be a friend of mine.”

  The blood drained from my face. “No—that’s not possible.”

  “It isn’t just possible, sweetheart,” he grinned, leaning in close, eye to eye. “It’s a fact. I’ve been working with him for years. He knows how to get delinquents off the street, Emerald. And he knows how to teach women respect.”

  I searched his features for some explanation. Some sign of a joke. “But you helped me; we rehabilitated Martha and Cindy.”

  “I let you think that, Em. I had a crush on you. I wanted you to like me. The truth is, Martha was arrested in Albuquerque six months ago for prostitution. The judge commuted her sentence to a Cartel work camp. Last I heard she’d graduated to a Girly Girl club in Phoenix. Happy as a pig in mud, too; all the sex she wants and no personal responsibilities except to make her masters happy. As for Cindy, she’d a film star now, with Girly Girl Studios. They say she does her best work with German shepherds.”

  “I—I don’t believe you.”

  “Really? When’s the last time you heard from either one of them?”

  My lower lip compressed my teeth. “Six months,” I said in a small, girlish voice.

  Randy slapped me hard across my cheek. My head whipped to the side; I lost my balance and fell at his feet. The scent of his leather shoes made me lightheaded.

  “That’s for calling me a liar, Em.” His voice was perfectly calm, completely even, just like Gustav’s always was. “Now I’m going to give you one more chance to take your clothes off before I tear them off your cringing body. Is that what you want?”

  I tasted the blood at the corner of my mouth. “No,” I looked up at him piteously. “I’ll do what you say
.”

  He stepped back, giving me room. My head spun as I went to all fours then rose to my feet. This couldn’t be happening, I kept telling myself. My hero, my protector couldn’t be turning out to be in league with him. My hands tugged at the hem of my shirt. I pulled it overhead, revealing my white, utilitarian bra. The shoes were next, and the tiny socks. I swallowed hard before going for the jeans. One last time, I looked in his eyes for mercy. Finding none, I unzipped the material and tugged it down over my hips.

  A moment later I stood before the handsome detective clad only in cotton bra and panties. I was ashamed, infuriated, and yet, at the same time, I had never felt more feminine, more desired. Reaching behind my back, the man’s gaze cool and appraising, I undid the clasp of my bra. Pulling the straps one by one, I shrugged them off my swollen mounds, bearing the pale white, coral tipped flesh.

  The bra fell at my feet. With my own hands, I caressed myself. “Make love to me,” I begged, taking a step forward, offering him the tits, offering myself.

  Randy snapped the belt in front of him, landing the tip on my left hip. I hopped in the air squealing.

  “You were told to take all your clothes off, Em. Why are you disobeying me?”

  Chagrined, I hustled the skimpy garment down to my ankles and lifted my feet one by one till I was free of my last covering. He was glaring at me and I couldn’t bear to look at him. Cheeks flushed, I lowered my head, a punished girl in front of her man. Her master.

  “Take your hair out of that thing,” he commanded, indicating the femininized elastic tie at the base of my neck. “Run your fingers through it; I want it loose and soft.”

  I was painfully aware of my nudity and vulnerability as I undid my ponytail and shook out my long tresses. The position was obscene: my arms behind my neck, my back bowed, my legs parted to keep my balance. Nothing was hidden from him now, not the swollen tips of my breasts thrusting at attention, not even the glistening, fragrant slit between my legs. I prayed he would not check, would not catch the scent of my inevitable submission. As it was, I feared I would collapse any moment.