In the car on the way back to her leased penthouse suite Dmitriy texted Jennifer and told her he wanted sex.

Jennifer smiled to herself. It was a good sign that Dmitriy wanted her to participate even if only over video telephony. She went to the bedroom and douched and changed into lingerie, stockings and heels and freshened her makeup. Jennifer had a dildo manufactured that exactly matched the length, girth and shape of Dmitriy’s erect penis. He had modelled for it personally and it was accurate right down to every vein and the tiny Tyson glands on the underside of his glans. She put it on the bed with a tube of lubricant ready for use.

Jennifer was far from stupid but none of her predecessors had been stupid either, including Katya Kuznetsova. But some of them had thought that they could hold onto Dmitriy by trying to encourage him to be monogamous. Jennifer knew from the start that strategy would never work; this was a man who liked to deflower virgins for fuck sake!

Jennifer was unique amongst all of Dmitriy's Girl Fridays in that she not only helped run his business empire; she was also his most trusted field operative. On his behalf she had seduced business impresarios, politicians and senior law enforcement officials to obtain sensitive information or to blackmail them. She had smuggled blood diamonds out of Africa inside her rectum. She had assassinated Dmitriy’s opponents and any other targets that he told her to. All of this without ever questioning the morality of it.

This put Jennifer in a unique but dangerous position.

Before Jennifer there had been a string of other beautiful intelligent women who had been Dmitriy’s personal assistants including Katya Kuznetsova and the girl Jennifer had replaced, Tiffany Crouch.

Dmitriy preferred to have a woman as his personal assistant and consigliere. A woman was less likely to try to overthrow him. Not that he didn’t trust his many lieutenants, but he kept them distant. His PA was dependent on him for her life and she was treated with loving respect and knew his darkest secrets. But he eventually tired of them, some sooner than others. All of his former Girl Fridays were kept under surveillance because they knew so many of his secrets and he’d killed two of his previous PAs who for various reasons had lost his trust.

The others had retired to live a life of luxury and two of them ran high-class bordellos run by his organisation. On retirement Katya had worked for Dmitriy through Vlad Volkov, a sex trafficker, finding girls to fill the ever-increasing demand for fresh-faced pretty young women. Until Katya teamed up with a Bratok named Uri Orlov and assisted in an FBI operation to insert an undercover operative close to Dmitriy with a view to bringing him to justice as part of a witness protection guarantee for Uri.

Jennifer had been that operative and Uri and the FBI Special Agent in Charge, Donald Chase, had been assassinated and Katya sold into sex slavery as a life-long punishment. Jennifer had been sold out by a corrupt senior FBI official named Mike Cole who had wiped all official records of her existence and she had no choice but to turn to Dmitriy and the dark side. And she loved it.

Jennifer knew that when her time was up as Dmitriy’s Girl Friday it would be easier for him to kill her and ensure his secrets went with her to the grave rather than to allow her to live and work for him as a brigadier, supervising his lieutenants which was what he had proposed. She also knew that the longer she remained his Girl Friday, the longer her life was guaranteed and the longer she had to arrange for her retirement and with that in mind she made it her business to hand-pick the women that Dmitriy slept with.

The first time had been opportunistic. Dmitriy usually flew in private jets but the first time Jennifer had travelled with Dmitriy overseas they had flown First Class direct from LA to Sydney Australia on a Qantas flight and when the cabin lights dimmed and most passengers were asleep Jennifer and Dmitriy had made love in his first class cocoon. When the flight attendant discovered them, rather than instructing them to stop she had taken her break and joined them; slipping out of her skirt but leaving on the rest of her uniform which Dmitriy found very kinky.

Jennifer had enjoyed the experience and had arranged with Vlad Volkov to provide her with pretty virgins for Dmitriy to deflower and she joined in enthusiastically. The frightened young girls were often comforted by having a pretty young woman in bed with them while Dmitriy seduced them. Most had been compliant but one or two had had to be restrained. It turned Jennifer on immensely to hold down the young girl while Dmitriy fucked her until she became compliant and a willing recipient of Dmitriy’s huge cock. Sometimes Dmitriy held down the virgin while Jennifer deflowered her.

Jennifer also arranged for select young women to keep Dmitriy entertained while she was away but never the same girl twice. She also made it a practice to have select young women join them in bed. Dmitriy liked to fuck young women and have Jennifer watch or participate. He also liked to watch Jennifer fuck pretty young women and Jennifer liked to do it. Dmitriy would take Jennifer from behind while Jennifer fucked the pretty young prostitute missionary. She liked it when he timed his orgasm to come in her ass just as she was coming inside the girl.

Dmitriy had a voracious sexual appetite and unlike the Girl Friday’s before her who had tried to restrict it, Jennifer encouraged it but she made sure that she remained his staple diet.

Jennifer sprayed herself with Dior Poison perfume, the only scent that Dmitriy let her wear. She didn’t need to of course, but the aroma of the perfume would add to the excitement and realism. She brought her laptop onto the bed and opened up a secure video conference channel with Dmitriy who was lying naked on their huge Venetian traditional Italian-style wooden four-poster bed with silk sheets and satin comforter. Beside him lay a pretty young blonde girl barely eighteen years of age. She was wearing only fully-fashioned stockings attached to a red satin and lace suspender belt, diaphanous red hipster panties and high heels.

Jennifer was well aware of Dmitriy’s nylons fetish and had selected the lingerie, hosiery and shoes herself for the young woman to wear. Jennifer was wearing exactly the same lingerie, nylons and heels and her makeup was identical to the eighteen-year-old’s: heavy eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner and bright red whore-lipstick.

“Hello my love. Shall we begin? I know you’ve had a long day and you must be tired,” Dmitriy smiled into the camera which was set up at the foot of the bed and lazily stroked the young woman’s small breast.

“Take your time my love. You know I live to serve you,” Jennifer snaked a red-painted fingernail down her left leg, stroking her flesh through the silky stocking and tapping the scorpion tattoo above her ankle.

Jennifer mimicked Dmitriy’s actions and lazily stroked her own breast, causing her nipple to engorge. Dmitriy took the young girl’s hand and directed it to his groin and she dutifully took his semi-erect phallus in her fingers and softly stroked it and Dmitriy lowered his face to the girl and kissed her.

Jennifer wished she could feel Dmitriy’s lips on hers but she made do by putting her fingers in her panties and began to finger her cock. She became fully tumescent and so did Dmitriy. Jennifer stroked her breasts and her cock and was pleased to see Dmitriy looking at the screen now and then to watch Jennifer while he played with the young girl.

Jennifer didn’t know the girl’s name, nor did she want to. As far as Jennifer was concerned she was just a surrogate for her in her absence.

Dmitriy spent some time kissing the girl and playing with her breasts while she stroked him to full tumescence. Then his hand wandered down her flat belly and inside her panties. Jennifer mirrored his actions and slipped her other hand inside her panties. The girl gasped when Dmitriy opened her labia and stroked her clitoris. Jennifer fingered her puckered bud, watching the screen intently.

Jennifer could sense Dmitriy’s impatience. He wanted relief. When he was in this mood Jennifer knew to satiate him quickly so that he could then take his time and make love to her again slowly. The girl had been instructed accordingly by Jennifer and when Dmitriy pressed on her head she willingly lowered her face down to his lap and began to suckle his huge member.

Jennifer took the silicon replica-cock and sucked on it while she fingered her sphincter, lightly circling her fingertips around the puckered pink ring. The cock in her mouth felt exactly like Dmitriy’s but of course she couldn’t taste the pre-seminal fluid oozing from the eye like the girl on the screen could. The girl was suckling Dmitriy’s penis, as much as she could fit in her mouth anyway, while Dmitriy worked on her cunt. Her nipples were erect and girl was moaning sluttishly around the mouthful of cock.

Jennifer sensed what was coming next and reached for the gel-lubricant and smeared a good dollop on her sphincter. When Dmitriy drove two fingers into the girls cunt Jennifer pushed two fingers inside herself. She sucked harder on the prophetic penis as she worked her fingers deeper into her anus. Her penis stood proud above the waistband of her panties, a rope of clear precum dribbling from her glans.

Dmitriy turned to the camera and smiled. He nodded at Jennifer and she nodded back.

Dmitriy flung the girl onto her back and opened her legs wide. Jennifer emulated his actions and lay on her back with her legs wide. She stuffed a pillow under the small of her back.

Dmitriy snaked his throbbing organ inside the girl’s panties and positioned it inside the folds of her labia and Jennifer covered the silicon phallus with lubricant, pushed it inside her panties and pressed the glans against her sphincter.

As Dmitriy slowly impaled the young girl on his monstrous phallus Jennifer slowly pushed the lifelike replica cock inside her tight anus. The dildo stretched her sphincter causing little rings of pleasure to radiate from the tight muscle. Dmitriy watched Jennifer on the screen intently as he slowly impaled the girl on his massive cock.

Jennifer pushed the prosthetic cock all the way inside her anus, biting her lip at the pleasure and pain as the monstrous cock dilated her tight asshole. Dmitriy smiled at her, almost wickedly, then slowly began to fuck the beautiful young creature lying beneath him. He grabbed her stocking-sheathed legs and made her wrap them around his flanks to increase his pleasure as he fucked her at a leisurely pace.

Jennifer could hear the girl, gasping and grunting, sighing and crying with pleasure as Dmitriy fucked her. Jennifer reached for her cock and began to stroke it as Dmitriy fucked the young blonde prostitute. She thrust the dildo in and out of her tight anus, pressing the glans on her prostate to maximise her pleasure as she firmly gripped her cock and stroked it. She imagined that Dmitriy was lying on top of her, ploughing her with his huge cock, whispering endearments, smiling down at her, kissing her softly as he fucked her.

Dmitriy was doing exactly that to the young girl on the screen, regularly craning his neck to watch Jennifer. He made kissing gestures to her and smiled; the lust on his face evident. He fucked the girl harder and Jennifer worked the dildo faster and harder inside her anus and stroked her cock a little faster too. She was close to extremis. The pleasure radiating from deep in her bowels was matched by the tingling delight coming from her throbbing penis.

She saw Dmitriy grab the girl by the thighs and drive his cock all the way inside her. The muscles on his back rippled and his whole body quaked as he roared with pleasure and spent his load deep inside the young girl who cried out at as her own orgasm shook her. She writhed beneath Dmitriy's tattooed muscled body, scissoring her nylon-sheathed limbs against his body, raking her high heels on his abdomen, screaming obscenities as she climaxed.

Jennifer pressed the button on the bottom of the dildo and it suddenly began to vibrate and pulsate. She drove it deep in her ass and pushed it on her prostate as she frantically stroked her engorged member until it ejaculated a geyser of hot semen on her tits and her stomach. She raised herself up off the bed and drove the dildo in and out of her anus at a frenetic pace as her the last of her issue spattered on her belly.

She stared intently at the screen and watched Dmitriy fuck the little girl into a paroxysm of bliss as he spent his load deep in her tight cunt; his head was turned towards the screen smiling at Jennifer.

Jennifer felt a pang of jealousy but it passed fleetingly and then she was suddenly sated and very tired, nearly exhausted.

Dmitriy waved her goodbye, his cock still buried in the pretty blonde. He hadn't finished with the girl yet by a long shot but he knew that Jennifer was tired and he allowed Jennifer to break the connection as she carefully switched off the vibrating dildo and extracted it from her ass.

Jennifer knew that she should undress, shower and change into night attire but she was just too tired. She put the laptop on the nightstand, tossed the dildo aside, kicked off her heels, pulled up the covers and immediately fell asleep. She would tip the maid extra for having to deal with the soggy semen-stained sheets in the morning.

She had a busy day ahead of her: a friend to betray and a goat to tether.

*****

Katya Kuznetsova – One Year Earlier

Katya Kuznetsova had been Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich’s personal assistant and Girl Friday until she was usurped by a pretty young virgin named Priscilla Montgomery. Katya knew that the day would come when she would be replaced, just like she had replaced Liza Lawton. For three years she had effectively been Dmitriy's sex slave, working for a man who sold people, drugs and stolen property and committed crimes such as kidnap for ransom and murder at a whim and headed up his own arm of the Russian Mafia whilst distancing himself from the dirty work. It had hardened Katya.

When she was replaced, Katya moved east and set herself up in a well-appointed cottage in Southold on Long Island, hiding amongst the moneyed elite. She tried marriage for a while but it didn’t stick so she established a business scouting young virgins to pass onto Vlad Volkov who would arrange to have them abducted and sold into sexual slavery. She became immune to the everyday barbarity of it and knew that she herself was only a heartbeat away from meeting a similar fate to the abducted sex-slaves or the possibility of being killed by Dmitriy because she knew too much about him.

Katya had been in the safe house just outside Cockeysville when Uri’s car exploded the day after she had handed Jennifer Jones over to Vlad Volkov. Their FBI handler Donald Chase’s car had been involved in fatal collision on the I-95 that afternoon and they knew it was no coincidence. Uri’s car was packed with their belongings and they were trying to escape Dmitriy’s clutches.

Vlad Volkov had burst into the safe house with three other henchmen and put a gun to Katya’s head and had taken her to Dmitriy Yakovich who had viciously fucked her at gunpoint over his office desk laughing as she cried tears of sorrow for Uri. He had then handed her Vlad Volkov with instructions that she was not to be killed.

Vlad could do with her as he pleased but she was to live a life of constant sorrow and regret, knowing that her betrayal of Dmitriy Yakovich was the reason for her wretchedness.

Vlad and Katya had worked closely for years, she supplying him with victims for the sex trafficking trade but she had always been haughty and aloof, secure in the knowledge that she was protected by Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich.

“As the Americans say: out of the frying pan, into the fire but I prefer the Russian version: I ran from the wolf but ran into a bear,” Vlad chuckled as he drove Katya back to her house in Southold.

“Dmitriy has arranged for the deeds to your fancy house to be signed over to me. I think that I will live in it instead of selling it. You will work in my brothels in New York and New Jersey, not that far away, but I will have you brought to your old house now and then so you can see what you have lost,” Vlad grinned wolfishly.

Katya snaked her hand across his thigh and stroked it lazily.

“What if I give you willingly what you are going to have to take? I have a considerable amount of cash and jewels in a safe deposit box and investments in an overseas company,” Katya found Vlad’s cock erect, lying along his thigh, held there by his tight jeans.

“Dmitriy knows about your safe deposit box in the Chase Bank in New York and it is being cleared as we speak. Your shares in Rio Tinto have already been transferred to one of Dmitriy's holding companies. You have nothing Katya,” Vlad chuckled coldly.

Katya snatched her hand away from his thigh. Her position was helpless. She had nothing left to bargain with.

The two-car convoy arrived at Katya’s estate at Southold and Vlad led Katya into her house while his henchmen secured the perimeter to make sure they weren’t disturbed. She willingly opened the safe in her office knowing that resistance was futile. Vlad cleaned out the cash and jewellery and led Katya upstairs, walking behind her so he could admire her firm ass and long legs sheathed in glistening sheer nylons.

He made no pretext of his intent and threw her on the bed and fell on her.

Katya did not resist as Vlad straddled her prone body and stripped himself naked while he gazed down at her long lithe body dressed in the tight black silk dress.

He stared at her pale blue eyes accentuated by her dark eye makeup and seductive lips painted with blood-red lipstick. He had longed to kiss those full sensuous lips, to lie on top of her alabaster flesh, longed to feel those silken-shrouded limbs on his sensitive flesh as he entered her.

Vlad tore at her dress and Katya didn’t resist him. She lay prone with her limbs spread, her long legs clad in flesh-toned hold-up stockings, her shaved mound shrouded in translucent white panties, her small breasts cupped by a matching brassiere, her erect red-berry nipples visible through the sheer fabric.

He eased aside her panties and thrust himself into her tight tunnel, still moist with Dmitriy’s semen, and she wrapped her legs around him and snaked her tongue into his mouth as he kissed her.

Vlad Volkov revolted her more than any man in the world but right now he owned her and he could do anything he wanted with her. He was going to fuck her regardless so she might as well be compliant. Dmitriy had often used Katya to seduce men that she loathed but she had done it willingly because he was her master. This was no different as far as Katya was concerned. She had nothing left except her body and one single secret that she would never tell no matter what.

Vlad rutted against Katya, thrusting deep into her tight cunt, staring into her ice-blue eyes looking for signs of fear and loathing but her eyes were empty. She met his trusts and he could feel her becoming wetter, she ground her pubis against his so that her clitoris was stimulated. She wrapped her legs around his torso and he stroked them and ran his nails down them, laddering the sheer nylons.

He kissed her viciously, biting her lip, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, tasting the blood. The blood matched her lipstick and Vlad watched her lap it away with her tongue. He wanted to defile her, this woman who had always made him feel inferior, but even now in her ripped dress, her tattered nylons and bleeding mouth she stared up defiantly at him and the harder her fucked the harder she fucked him back.

Vlad was tempted to hit her; to punch her, to flail at her and make her beg him to stop but she was worth too much money to him. Despite her cold eyes he knew that she loathed him and that making her fuck him was worse than anything else he could do to her.

Vlad pushed her down onto the bed and stared into her eyes as he jackhammered his cock in and out of her bruised vagina until he could hold back no longer and he fell on her and ejaculated his load deep side her buttery soft cunt. He felt her shudder and he couldn’t tell if it was an orgasm or just disgust.

She would never tell him but it was both.

He quickly pulled his cock out of her vagina and scooted up her body so that he could spray the remainder of his seed over her pretty face and her hair. He finally got see the loathing on her face that he wanted to see and he smiled.

Vlad climbed off the bed and left Katya curled up in a ball shivering.

He had his henchmen go through her personal belongings, keeping anything of value and throwing everything else into a pile in the front garden. He had them fill her suitcases with her clothes. They were expensive and she would need them when he prostituted her out.

Vlad dragged her to the window and made her watch as everything she owned went up in smoke. Katya was left with three suitcases full of clothes and nothing else. A single sob wretched from her throat and Vlad threw her back on the bed and went down to drink her liquor cabinet dry with his four colleagues who he sent up one after the other to fuck her.

She didn’t fight them. She let them take her, using every orifice in her body.

When Vlad came at her a second time she didn’t resist. She welcomed him. She opened her arms and legs and returned his vile kisses and allowed his revolting penis to enter her and evoke wanton feelings of lust. She wrapped her legs around him and rose to meet his thrusts.

His head was buried in her shoulder so he couldn’t see her smiling.

There was one secret that she had been able to keep from Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich and Vladimir Volkov. A secret that they could never wrest from her no matter how much they tortured her.

Vlad moved Katya around his brothels across the east coast. During the day she took on walk-in customers and in the evenings she was sent out to service higher end clientele. She was too elegant, sophisticated and intelligent to just be a fuck-puppet.

She brought in more money working the high end trade, and taking walk-in customers, although demeaning, which pleased Vlad, was a waste of her talents and dangerous as she was likely to catch an STI. Katya was just too good a commodity to waste and eventually he made her the Madame of one of his high-class brothels with the caveat that she was to also service any man he sent her way.

Every second Sunday Vlad brought Katya back to her house in Southold on Long Island and fucked her in her old bed. He made her cook him dinner and stay the night, defiling her at his whim. Dmitriy wanted her to feel pain and loss and Vlad enjoyed inflicting it.

Katya made no attempt at escape, even when she was allowed out on her own, because she had nowhere to go and no money to get there. It didn’t matter where she ran Dmitriy would find her and she had a secret to protect.

Two tortuous years into her servitude Katya was awakened by the sound of muffled gunshots. Vlad lay asleep beside her in what used to be her own bedroom. Through the gloom she could just make out a petite figure dressed in skin-tight black clothing. The silenced pistol in the figure’s hand was still smoking and Katya could smell gunsmoke and blood.

Katya turned her head on the pillow and saw the two holes in Vlad’s forehead. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer and waited for the eternal darkness to swallow her up.

Instead she felt soft lips on hers; a fleeting gentle kiss.

“Don’t move. Don’t turn on any lights. I’ll be back soon,” the figure whispered.

Jennifer Jones returned with a black body-bag and had Katya help her put Vlad’s body and the blood-stained pillow and pillowcase into the bag which they zipped closed and carried down to a black SUV. They hefted the body into the trunk.

Katya was impressed with Jennifer’s strength for a woman her size.

“Make breakfast. I’ll be back soon. Two eggs, poached, wheat toast and Virginia ham. You know how I take my coffee,” Jennifer said before she drove away.

She returned fifteen minutes later in a red BMW sedan.

Dawn’s light was creeping across the horizon when Jennifer walked back into the house and sat down at the kitchen-diner. Katya put Jennifer’s breakfast in front of her and sat across from Jennifer wearing a chiffon dressing gown.

“What did he do?” Katya asked.

“What they all do. He got greedy,” Jennifer said, scooping eggs and ham into her mouth.

“I guess that’s it for me then. Make it quick or am I buckwheats?” Katya sipped her coffee.

“If I wanted you dead you would never have woken up,” Jennifer crunched toast.

“What then?” Katya was pragmatic.

She guessed she would be passed onto another of Dmitriy’s lieutenants to keep working as a Madame and a prostitute.

“You're mine now,” Jennifer said matter-of-factly.

“You're going to manage all of the brothels in the tri-state area and go back to your old job finding girls for the trade,” Jennifer helped herself to more toast and ham.

“Okay…” Katya sounded sceptical.

Jennifer stood up, her black lycra catsuit trilling on the leather seat.

She walked around the table and helped Katya to her feet.

“You treated me well at the safe house. I know that you loved Uri, even though your love was misplaced. You should never have betrayed Dmitriy. I’m sure you know that now. You are Dmitriy’s gift to me on the proviso that I never let you go,” Jennifer reached out and stroked Katya’s face.

“You were just a naïve young girl. Look at you now… still a girl but far from naïve,” Katya returned the gesture and stroked Jennifer’s face.

“I’m going to let you live here in your house. I’ll have the deeds sent to you but they are worthless really because you can never leave but at least you will have somewhere to call home that really is your own home,” Jennifer said.

Katya leaned in and kissed Jennifer and Jennifer returned the kiss but there was little passion in it.

“Your daughter can join you here,” Jennifer said coldly and Katya froze.

She had to sit down or else she would fall down.

“Did you really think you could hide her from me Katya?” Jennifer remained standing.

“Does he know?” Katya was shaking.

“Of course he doesn’t know. If he knew there is no way that she would be joining you here,” Jennifer said.

“Then how…” Katya’s question trailed off.

“I have my ways and I don’t tell Dmitriy everything. Some things are best kept just to myself,” Jennifer said quietly.

“He’ll kill you if he finds out that you are keeping secrets,” Katya said coldly.

“He’ll kill us both if he finds out,” Jennifer replied.

“You went to Europe eighteen years ago, ostensibly to audit Dmitriy’s employment agencies but you were gone nearly three months. Dmitriy didn’t care because he was already looking to replace you as his Girl Friday,” Jennifer sat down and was drinking coffee.

“You gave birth to his daughter in Switzerland and had her raised in France and then she attended a British boarding school. She’s been attending Rutgers here for nearly a year. You could have her here on weekends, it’s only a three hour drive,” Jennifer buttered more toast.

“Why?” Katya looked at Jennifer.

She had genuine tears streaking down her cheeks leaving tracks of mascara.

“Some people like to tell me that I am not a real woman and could never understand motherhood but I know what it’s like to be a daughter,” Jennifer pulled the fading photograph of her mother from a pocket inside the catsuit and looked at it lovingly then she put it away.

“Does she know who her father is?” Jennifer asked.

“She thinks he’s dead. I told her that because of my work and special circumstances that we could never live together. Children are resilient. She has been brought up that way since birth, moving from place to place, always well cared for but only seeing her mother sporadically,” Katya dried her eyes with a napkin.

“When I brought her to the US I was able to see her more often but you can imagine the difficulties… the secrecy,” Katya sighed.

“Dmitriy no longer has you under surveillance. Once he gave you to Vlad it was no longer necessary and now you belong to me,” Jennifer wiped crumbs from her mouth with her napkin.

“Dmitriy told me I was soft when I asked if I could have you if I dispatched Vlad personally. I told him that you would still live in servitude, would still be selling your body, still hating every day that you were alive,” Jennifer looked at Katya’s cigarettes on the breakfast bar and then at Katya questioningly.

Katya nodded and got up to get her cigarettes and her lighter.

“I had asked myself why you didn’t just kill yourself when Dmitriy gave you to Vlad. It piqued my interest because I knew you and I knew how proud and independent you were. I used my considerable resources to find out all about your past and of course I eventually found out about Katerina,” Jennifer took the proffered cigarette and saw Katya flinch when Jennifer mentioned her daughter’s name.

“She’s beautiful and intelligent just like her mother,” Jennifer drew smoke into her lungs and then exhaled.

She seldom smoked and when she did she took full enjoyment.

“So… your secret is safe… for now. You work for me but you no longer sell your body; that is not appropriate for a woman of your class. You will live here and if you want, Katerina can live here with you,” Jennifer took another drag of her cigarette.

“And in return?” Katya breathed her own smoke deep into her lungs.

“I already own you. There is nothing more you can give me,” Jennifer smiled at Katya.

“YA ubezhal ot volka, no natknulsya na medvedya,” Katya whispered, her icy-blue eyes locked on Jennifer’s face.

“What did you say?” Jennifer furrowed her brow.

“I ran from the wolf but ran into a bear,” Katya said softly.

“I need a shower and some sleep. Come join me in the shower and then we can go to bed,” Jennifer crushed out her cigarette.

“Fuck me on the same side of the bed where you executed Vlad. I want to laugh at his ghost while we make love,” Katya put out her own cigarette and took Jennifer’s hand and led her upstairs.

*****

The Special Task Force met downtown at Police Plaza, some of them looking a little the worse for wear and Alice Leasingham was absent. The late night at The Longhorn had taken its toll.

Penelope was wearing one of her charcoal skirt-suits and Gary, Dan and Tim appreciated the legs show. She was wearing sheer grey nylons which appeared to be holdups as the welt kept creeping into view as she reached up to point to her crime wall.

“We know that the truck carrying the can crossed the border into Brownsville Texas at the U.S. Customs and Border Protection station Los Indios Free Trade Bridge. We know that the paperwork associated with the can listed antique furniture and that it was checked through US customs,” Penelope reviewed what they already knew.

“I saw that can. Efforts had been made to conceal the trapdoor but the deckhands had been in and out of the container, fucking the girls as it turns out. The door would have been found during any routine inspection.”

“Tim I want you down in Brownsville putting pressure on those Customs guys. Use your FBI credentials to scare the shit out of them. I know security has relaxed a little since Bin Laden got the chop but I bet someone down there greased that can through the system,” Penelope looked over at Jennifer for confirmation.

“Alexi Reznik likes to work in the shadows. He prefers to use silver rather than lead. You can bet he’s got people at the border crossings on his payroll,” Jennifer backed up Penelope’s assumption.

“Dan, Katya has provided us with a list of local women who were recruited by Belarus International Services. Some of them are working legitimately as domestics and some of them are working out of a strip club down in the Bridge Street free zone,” Penelope held out a sheet of paper.

Gary Rasmussen bristled and interjected.

“There is no free zone! It’s just our red light district,” he fixed his gaze on Dan Murphy and Tim Morrow, the State and Federal law enforcement operatives.

Penelope shrugged her shoulders.

Bridge Street was unofficially known as the Bridge Street free zone. The street was lined with titty bars, adult stores and greasy spoons. Visitors and locals alike cruised the street looking for something spicy. The police deliberately kept a low profile on Bridge Street but diligently patrolled the adjacent streets and were intolerant of any miscreants who attempted to bring their unsavoury behaviours outside of the delineated area. Silvia Bickle called Bridge Street an island of crud in a sea of resplendence.

Dan Murphy took the list and scanned it.

“Katya will accompany you. She accumulated the information on these women, she knows where they come from and she speaks their language. She’s acting as your interpreter if anyone questions her legitimacy,” Penelope nodded at Katya Kuznetsova who was also wearing a fitted business suit, heels and hose.

Dan seemed more than happy to be spending the day with Katya.

Gary took Penelope by the elbow and whispered something in her ear and Penelope frowned at him and shook off his grip.

“After my briefing Gary!” she whispered tersely.

“I let Alice work out of the CSI office today. Katya has given her access to some of the sex trafficking sites on the dark web and she’s searching to see if there was any reference to the four younger girls who were in the container as it’s assumed they would have been sold on the web,” Penelope explained.

“What is she doing?” Dan Murphy pointed at Jennifer Jones.

It was as if Jennifer had got the memo as she too was wearing a skirt-suit. It was dark with charcoal pinstripes, her heels were either Louboutin or Jimmy Choo and her nylons were gossamer sheer. Her makeup as usual was perfect as was her red hair. She could have passed for Penelope Bishop’s younger sister, Gary Rasmussen thought to himself.

“Good question,” Penelope glared at Jennifer who offered a bemused smile.

“I have a lead on the truck driver. He tried to cross the border back into Mexico. My operatives are bringing him here so that you can talk to him,” Jennifer offered a smirk.

“Your operatives? The same people who questioned the Pakistani deckhand in Altamira?” Tim Morrow bristled.

“They were not responsible for the consequences after the deckhands were released from prison. Reznik was going to find and silence them regardless. Who do you think paid for their Mexican lawyers?” Jennifer said offhandedly.

“I don’t like working with criminals,” Tim spat.

“My operatives are licenced private investigators. The truck driver is in their company willingly because he knows the alternative. Neither I nor Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich have been convicted of any crime nor do I need to remind you that the United States Attorney General himself has appointed me to this task force,” Jennifer replied flippantly.

“Nor do I need remind you that I have provided most of the useful information to this task force while the rest of you have run up against bureaucratic roadblocks or have been chasing your own tails,” Jennifer barked.

“Ok enough!” Gary slammed his fist down on the lectern.

“We appreciate your efforts Ms Jones. The rest of you have assignments given to you by Lieutenant Benson, who may I remind you, is in charge of this task force. I suggest you get on with them,” Gary cooled things down.

As the team stood and began to go about their assigned tasks Katya Kuznetsova mumbled something under her breath that only Dan Murphy caught.

“Lozhis' s sobakoy i poluchayesh' blokh”

“What was that?” his excitement at having Katya assigned to assist him was evident.

“It goes something like if lie down with dogs, you get fleas,” Katya smiled at him.

As Dan escorted Katya to his car she asked if they could stop at the smoking area and he agreed. They were alone and Katya smoked while Dan pretended to study his phone but really studied the tall, elegant, mature woman with the jet-black hair cut into a severe bob which accentuated her deep blue expressive eyes.

“You hate Jennifer but you are delighted to be in my company,” Katya said suddenly.

Dan Murphy blushed.

“She’s young, arrogant, a failed law enforcement officer, and she works for a criminal,” Dan hissed.

“What about me?” Katya gave him a beguiling smile.

“You’re mature, intelligent and sophisticated. You were forced to work for Dmitriy Yakovich; you had no choice,” Dan rationalised.

“We all make choices. Did you notice the scorpion tattoo above Jennifer’s left ankle?” Katya stubbed out her cigarette.

“Well, yeah,” Dan blushed.

All of the men had been checking out the women’s legs.

“Then you notice I have the same tattoo,” Katya turned her calf so that Dan could see better and he appreciated the view.

“Yeah, I saw it. I figured it was some Russian mobster shit; that Dmitriy guy is covered in tattoos,” Dan said by way of explanation.

“It means something that you could never understand. The bond between Jennifer and I is unbreakable,” Katya began to walk towards the car pool.

“You’re older than she is and appear to be just as smart. I don’t understand why she’s your boss,” Dan caught up with her.

“Jennifer has been underestimated by many men but not many of them are still around to regret that they underestimated her,” Katya leaned in and whispered in Dan’s ear.

The closeness of her body, her sweet breath on his face and the scent of her Poison perfume had the effect that Katya knew it would.

“You both wear the same perfume,” Dan swallowed as he searched for his car keys in his front pockets, using it as an excuse to hide his erection.

“We share a lot of things,” Katya deliberately let her short skirt open wide as she slid into the passenger seat.

The image of Katya’s pink nylon panties burned into Dan’s brain and kept recurring throughout the day.

Back in the office Gary had taken Penelope aside.

“How you holding up?” Gary searched Penelope’s eyes.

Gary Rasmussen had stood by Penelope Bishop during the good times and bad and genuinely cared for her almost like a father. Gary had actually been a street cop at the same time Penelope’s father had walked the beat in Balwyn.

“I’m fine,” Penelope gave him a grim smile.

“You and Jaylene seem to be getting along. I notice she got in the bag a little last night,” Gary was careful how he broached the subject.

“I’m still sober Gary. Jaylene and I have one cheat night a week. I get to eat hamburgers and she gets to drink or smoke a little weed. You want I should start writing up reports on my personal life?” Penelope instantly regretted snapping at Gary and she reached out and stroked his arm soothingly as an apology.

“How you getting on with Ms Jones? It’s obvious you don’t like her. I mean how are you getting on professionally?” Gary changed the subject.

“What she said to Tim Morrow is true. We couldn’t find our ass with both hands without her help. This Russian mafia shit is complicated and runs deep,” Penelope admitted.

“That older skinny broad she brought in is a piece of work,” Gary commented.

“You mean Natasha Fatale,” Penelope chuckled.

“All the men want to ride her and Alice Leasingham wants to be her. She may look like a cartoon caricature but I bet that bitch can bite,” Penelope sighed.

“Remember what I said about playing nice. It’s been reported up as far as the AG that we figure this Reznik guy is behind the girls in the can and now he has a hardon for us to get a pinch. He wants arrests made so that he, the Governor and the Director of the FBI can go on TV and brag about what a great job their combined task force is doing,” Gary rubbed his fingers through his thinning hair.

“We aren’t anywhere near making arrests yet and tying Reznik directly to the can isn’t going to be easy,” Penelope chewed a nail.

“Get me something,” Gary patted Penelope’s shoulder and moved off.

Jennifer sat at the back of the room watching the exchange.

Penelope walked over to join her. They had the room to themselves.

“Let me guess. The politicians want a perp parade,” Jennifer smiled at Penelope.

“How confident are you that we can tie Reznik to this?” Penelope ignored Jennifer’s question about the perp walk.

Jennifer continued.

“We will likely be able to tie Reznik to Belarus International Services. If we are lucky we can tie Belarus International Services to the shipping container and prove that the same company recruited the girls,” Jennifer replied.

“Reznik will stay under the radar and let his lawyers talk for him. He’ll claim that he personally has nothing to do with people smuggling or sex trafficking. He’ll claim that rogue elements in the company, to which he is only loosely associated, are responsible. Anyone who can tie him directly to that particular transaction is already back in the Balkans or dead,” Jennifer reached out and picked a stray fibre off Penelope’s lapel.

Penelope didn’t flinch. She stared down into Jennifer’s green eyes, fascinated by the blueish heterochromia.

“That might be enough. If we can nail the people who recruited the girls, the border guards who facilitated entry and the truck driver who drove away and left the girls to rot we will have effectively solved the crime and the men in high castles can claim their victories and we can all go back to doing whatever it is we did before this,” Penelope watched Jennifer’s face for a reaction.

Jennifer remained stoic and returned Penelope’s gaze.

The two women stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them flinching, neither of them talking.

Finally Penelope’s face broke into a smile.

“You think I’m full of shit don’t you?” she smirked.

Jennifer stepped forward and stood on her toes so that her face was so close to Penelope’s that she could taste her sweet breath.

“You don’t know me but I know you. Any other law enforcement officer would be happy to put a bow on this case just as you described it and hand it to those men in high castles and walk away and say they had done their job,” Jennifer whispered.

“But not you. You saw those girls in that can. You saw what they had endured… how they had been tossed aside like garbage. You don’t want some greaser truck driver or some vodka-soaked Bratok who sells young girls into prostitution or some smooth-tongued woman who recruits naïve young girls with promises of milk and honey.”

“You want the man ultimately responsible. You want what I want. You want Alexi Reznik. You want The Jackal,” Jennifer’s lips brushed against Penelope’s and it felt like a spark of electricity had entered her body.

Penelope pressed her lips against Jennifer’s just barely touching them and then abruptly broke contact.

“You’re no different. Dmitriy Yakovich is no better than Alexi Reznik and I don’t believe for a second that you’re here because Dmitriy is bargaining with the DOJ to have his indictments quashed or reduced. Don’t think for a minute that I wouldn’t put you behind bars if I had evidence that would put you there,” Penelope breathed.

“But… You’re right. Right now I want Alexi Reznik and I will do anything to get him. Even lie down with a bitch like you,” Penelope brushed Jennifer's lips with her own.

“You are speaking figuratively of course,” Jennifer smiled impishly.

Penelope stepped away and searched her pockets for cigarettes.

“How long until your men will have the truck driver here?” Penelope found her smokes and took them from her pocket.

Jennifer looked at her phone.

“About half an hour or so,” she looked up at Penelope.

“I’ll make arrangements for him to be taken into custody, Mirandized and taken to an interview room,” Penelope picked up a phone.

Jennifer waited while Penelope made the necessary calls. She played with her cigarettes and lighter while she spoke on the phone.

“Still trying to quit?” Jennifer nodded at the Marlboros in Penelope’s hand.

Penelope gave Jennifer a withering smile.

“Let’s go and smoke a cigarette together. I’ll buy coffee on the way and you supply the cigarettes,” Jennifer grinned at Penelope.

“I reiterate what I said to you in your apartment. Just because I’m letting you work this case doesn’t make us friends,” Penelope scowled.

“Don’t be an asshole. Come and smoke with me. I have something to discuss with you that I don’t want anyone else to hear,” Jennifer picked up her handbag and led the way outside.

Penelope appreciated the view as she watched the petite little killer walk ahead of her.

They stopped at the mess hall and Jennifer bought coffee and then they went outside to the smoking area.

“Remember what I said about Reznik being too far removed from the crime and being too careful to be implicated and the need to set a trap to catch him red-handed?” Jennifer said.

Penelope nodded.

“I have an idea. The Jackal is not going to come out of his lair unless there is something irresistible for him to eat,” Jennifer flicked ash away from her skirt.

“You going to keep talking in parables or are you going to get to the point?” Penelope said a little snarkily.

“I have a plan but I need a tight lid kept on it for now. Just you and I and probably Alice Leasingham,” Jennifer breathed.

Penelope nodded for Jennifer to continue.

“There is another reason I brought Katya here, beside her connections and knowledge of sex trafficking,” Jennifer said.

And then Jennifer told Penelope her plan.

*****

Dan Murphy drove Katya down to City Park and pulled into a lot filled with mom-cars and SUVs fitted with kiddie-capsules. It was too early in the day to hit the strip club so they intended to interview as many nannies as possible. Katya had advised Dan that approaching the women at the residences where they worked was a bad idea. Best if Katya tried to talk to them alone in the park.

The jungle-gyms, roundabouts, swing-sets and other kiddie playground equipment were filled with kids rugged up against the cold, laughing squealing and a couple of them were crying.

Their nannies sat in ethnic groups.

“Some of those strollers are as big as the fucking SUVs they're driving!” Dan commented.

“Don’t blame the nannies. They make a pittance. They are here watching the kids while mom gets her bikini wax or a massage from some big-dicked Latino masseur half her age and then goes to the tennis club for a salad and to gossip with the girls while her husband is at work chasing secretaries around his desk,” Katya said bitingly.

“Sounds like you have as much respect for the moneyed elite as I do?” Dan chuckled.

“Not so when I was the moneyed elite, but now I have a different perspective,” Katya’s accent was more pronounced.

If she had been allowed to have custody of Katerina when she was younger, wild horses would not have kept Katya away from her daughter. How could these mothers neglect their children and leave them to be raised by strangers? Katya cleared her mind and stepped out of the car.

“Let me do the talking. You look too much like a cop,” she said to Dan.

The Latino housemaids and nannies tended to be older. They huddled together wearing identical pink synthetic fibre dresses with white aprons and cheap pantyhose under their coats, almost like a uniform. The fabric was wash and wear and didn’t stain. The African nannies wore similar uniforms but with colourful scarves and had their dreadlocks piled high, held in place with bright turbans or head-scarves. There were a couple of British girls with rosy cheeks and flaming red hair wearing black and white au-pair uniforms with black tights and sensible shoes.

The Slavic women stood out. Although they were no wealthier than their counterparts, they wore their cheap clothing with style. Chic second-hand skirts and dresses, short-hemmed, showing a lot of leg sheathed in shiny flesh-toned pantyhose. Blouses and bodices opened one button too many, heaving breasts in lacy bras, heavy makeup, too much red lipstick and black mascara, hair styled but done by their friends rather than professionally.

Dan bet a lot of those soccer-moms kept a good eye on their husbands when they were around their au-pairs and nannies.

All of the housekeepers and nannies had developed the art of being able to chatter away nonsensically amongst themselves whilst keeping one eye on their charges. As soon as little Tarquin or Piper fell off the swing and started bellowing they sprang into action, soothing the kid and offering it more affection than the kid received from their parents.

“Offer me your arm. If you look too much like a cop they will clam up but if I leave you here staring at the playground you will look like a paedophile,” Katya put out her arm and hooked it through Dan’s.

He liked walking this close to her as they approached the Slavic girls.

The women immediately clammed up as Dan and Katya approached.

Katya started speaking some language that Dan didn’t understand. He guessed it was Russian or Ukrainian. Four of the girls got up immediately and walked away to settle on a bench on the other side of playground but two of them remained seated and Katya sat down next to them.

“Sit here. Say nothing,” Katya patted the seat beside her.

Dan felt like a spare dick at a wedding as Katya and the young girls chattered away in their home dialect. Katya opened her purse and brought out her cigarettes. The girls made gestures which Dan understood to mean that they couldn’t smoke while they were looking after the children.

Katya spoke some more and the women pointed to the playground and yammered.

“The boy in the red romper with the snotty nose and the girl next to him in the pink sparkly princess dress, pink tights and tiara on her head. You see them?” Katya pointed to two cute brats sitting in a sandpit playing with toys that probably would have cost him a week’s wage.

Dan nodded.

“Watch them. You’re a cop; make sure they don’t get abducted or anything,” Katya squeezed his thigh playfully.

“I’m taking the girls over to the trees for a smoke,” Katya stood; her thighs level with Dan’s eyeline.

“What do I do if they start crying or something?” Dan whined.

“Dial 911,” Katya said flippantly.

“Seriously. We will just be over there,” Katya pointed to a copse of trees were a couple of the other nannies were sneaking a smoke.

Dan sat for what seemed like three hours but was in fact just over forty minutes guarding the women’s handbags and watching the kids, waiting to be approached by park rangers for being a pervert but nothing of the sort happened. The two cute little brats played happily with each other, sharing their toys, laughing and giggling at each other’s antics. He wondered at what age the girl would become a precocious bitchy Heather and the boy would become a spoiled insolent fucktard with a soft-top ride and hardon for the Heathers. The cynic in him couldn’t help it.

He heard Katya and the two au-pairs chattering away in Russian or whatever as they approached and he turned to admire three great sets of legs in short skirts and two sets of billowing breasts; Katya’s were not billowing but he liked their compact neatness against her suit jacket.

Katya left a near full packet of cigarettes with the girls and he saw them both slip high-value banknotes into their handbags.

“What did you learn?” Dan asked as they walked back to the car.

Katya ignored the question until they were in the car.

“All of the Slavic girls were recruited through Belarus International Services. Some of them arrived on legitimate J-1 visas but most of them are here illegally. Of the illegals, some came into the country on tourist visas which they overstayed and about half of them were smuggled in,” Katya checked her makeup in the sun-visor mirror.

“The nannies are well educated and speak good English. The two girls I spoke to said that they were offered nanny positions but it was intimated that they could make more money working as prostitutes. They said that about half the girls they had travelled with were given no choice and were handed over to hard men and taken away. You can guess their fate,” Katya said matter-of-factly.

“Is common practice to lure girls with offers of legitimate work and then sell them into prostitution. Some go willingly, some are forced. But Belarus International Services needs to have a pool of authentic clients and customers to operate legitimately but most of the money they make from bringing people in from overseas is from sex trafficking,” Katya applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

“You talk about it like it is nothing. Like it is just normal practice,” Dan shook his head.

“I told you that the best recruiters are girls that themselves have been trafficked. I am no angel Dan. I made my living targeting individual girls and selling them into slavery. Do not think of me as any different to the criminals we are investigating,” Katya put away her lipstick.

She turned to look at Dan Murphy and saw the look of disappointment in his eyes.

Dan filled the seat of large sedan. He was a big man; well-muscled with a flat-top haircut and a trimmed moustache. He was handsome and rugged.

Katya leaned in and kissed his cheek and then rubbed away the lipstick she had left behind.

“I am what I am Dan. Let’s get some coffee before we hit the strip club,” She patted his knee and made a vain effort to pull down her skirt as she put on her seatbelt.

Dan didn’t know how he felt about Katya but when she kissed his cheek his hardon had returned and he had to force himself to keep his eyes on the road rather than her legs.

They drove to Bridge Street where the cleanup crews were finishing clearing away the detritus from the previous evening. In the morning Bridge Street looked tawdry, like a cheap hooker brought out into daylight after working all night. Most of the bars, strip clubs, tattoo parlours, pawnshops and fast-food restaurants were closed or setting up for the afternoon trade. Dan and Katya found a coffee shop that didn’t look too ratty and sat down in a booth.

The coffee shop was located across the road from a strip club called Supergirls where a number of girls who were recruited by Belarus International Services worked as strippers, lap dancers and allegedly as prostitutes. Alice Leasingham had done some deep digging and found that Supergirls was not surprisingly owned by a subsidiary of Belarus International Enterprises.

Back at Police Plaza Penelope Bishop and Gary Rasmussen interviewed the truck driver who claimed that he had no idea that there were young women inside the shipping container that he was carrying. He claimed that as far as he knew the container was filled with antique furniture.

His story was shot full of holes. He had no legitimate reason to be driving on the dirt road in the Chihuahuan Desert but confirmed that he was to hand the truck and container over to another man at a truck stop south east of San Angelo.

Penelope had taken a DNA swab from the driver.

“If any of your DNA turns up on or inside any of those girls you’re looking at murder in the commission of a felony and life in prison or possibly a death sentence,” Penelope said in her best threatening voice.

The driver changed his story and said that he knew that there were girls in the container and that one of them had consented to sexual congress in exchange for permission to ride up front in the cab but that he had put her back in the can when they got closer to Route 87.

He claimed that the truck he was driving was not fitted with ISO twistlocks and that the container fell off the truck while he was on a steep incline, manoeuvring around a tight switchback.

When grilled why he had left the dead and injured girls inside the locked container and driven away, the driver claimed that he had called the Bratok on a pre-programmed satellite phone that he had been given at border and the man told him to set fire to the can and drive away immediately.

It made Penelope sick that the driver had tried to make himself sound like some sort of a martyr for not burning the can as he had been instructed.

The driver was scared for his life because he knew that he would be killed by his employers to cover up their involvement in the crime. He was hired by a trucking company that would later prove to be contracted to Belarus International Services but he had only dealt with low-level peons. This was his fifth trip hauling similar cargo and he had always handed the truck over to the same Bartok he knew only as Karl. He would then hop a ride back across the border on a truck owned by the same company.

The driver had never heard of a man named Alexi Reznik; he only knew the manager of the freight office in Altamira and the tattooed man with the shaved head named Karl.

Penelope had the driver placed in a holding cell and until Tim Morrow returned from Brownsville so he could be transferred to a secure Federal holding facility pending charges. If the investigation dug up the traffickers and the driver was willing to testify against them he may be able to cut a deal with the Feds.

Back at the free zone there was activity at Supergirls. The door was open and the club was taking deliveries and then a transit van pulled up and a dozen mainly blonde young women got out of the van and stretched before they went inside.

“Getting ready for the afternoon trade,” Dan commented, nodding at the girls they could see through the grimy window.

“How are we going to play this? If I walk in there and flash my badge the girls are just gonna clam up and the manager and his goons will do the same. This is the free zone and the businesses are not used to police harassment and I don’t wanna fuck up whatever arrangement the Balwyn PD has in place,” Dan explained.

Katya was sitting across from him and their knees were touching under the table in the tight booth.

Dan jumped when Katya squeezed his thighs and Katya laughed.

“We are both wearing suits right? So we can pass as business people. What if we’re from out of town and have just made some big deal and we are out celebrating, looking for some illicit fun before we return to Bumfuck Idaho or wherever to our boring husband and frumpy wife?” Katya said placing her hands on the table.

“That might work but it’s a bit early for a celebration isn’t it?” Dan frowned.

“Yeah. We say we cut the deal over a working lunch and went out to celebrate straight after,” Katya further improvising their story.

“Ok. Let’s get lunch and then hit Supergirls,” Dan dropped a note on the table and squeezed out of the booth.

He caught another glimpse of Katya’s pink nylon panties as she extricated herself from the tight space.

They walked outside and looked up and down the street looking for somewhere decent to eat and started walking south. They passed what appeared to be reasonably decent pay-by-the-hour, no-tell hotel and Katya surprised Dan by dragging him onto the stoop.

Katya pressed her body against Dan and kissed him and he responded immediately, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her passionately. Katya could feel what seemed like a generously proportioned erection pressing against her body. She broke the kiss and stared into Dan’s eyes.

“We can go to lunch or we can kill an hour or two in here,” she nodded at the entrance to the flophouse.

“You're very forward Ms Kuznetsova,” Dan was a little breathless.

“We’re both adults. It’s obvious that you want to fuck me and I like you. I like big strong men who are forceful,” Katya squeezed his cock through his trousers.

“You're a plain talking woman,” Dan grinned at her.

“You want to go eat tacos or you want to take me upstairs?” Katya said bluntly.

Dan took her hand and opened the door to the hotel and led her to the small counter where a decently dressed young man was in attendance.

“We want a room for two hours. Something clean, decent and quiet. Also give me two of those vanity packs,” Katya pointed to a shelf displaying Ziploc baggies containing a disposable toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, shaver, liquid soap and sanitary wipes.

The man got the baggies and a room key and Katya handed over a credit card.

“I feel like a heel letting you pay,” Dan whispered.

“I’m not paying. Jennifer is paying all my expenses,” Katya smiled at him.

“Gimme two extra towels too please,” Katy smiled at the concierge who racked up her purchases on her credit card and handed it back.

Katya pushed the extra towels and the baggies onto Dan, shouldered her handbag and led him to the stairs. There was no elevator.

“I’ll lead the way. You can check out my ass,” Katya said flippantly.

Dan blushed but fell in dutifully behind her.

Inside the room Katya was all business. She passed Dan two coat hangers from the dilapidated wardrobe which had only one door, the other resting beside it, propped against the wall. She took off her jacket and kicked off her heels and unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it and clipped it to a hanger and then took off her blouse and draped it over the same hanger. She hung it up and took another coat hanger and hung her jacket on it and put in the wardrobe.

Dan had quickly stripped, impatiently throwing his clothes over the back of a chair. He lay naked on the bed.

Katya put her heels back on and turned around to face Dan who had been watching her every move.

Katya Kuznetsova was a little over six feet tall in heels and she looked absolutely amazing: a stunning slim woman with jet black hair cut into a severe bob which accentuated her deep blue expressive eyes as did her heavy eye makeup. Her face was elegant and narrow, with accentuated cheekbones, a pointed chin and small nose, her full lips accentuated by her blood-red lipstick. Her skin was alabaster white which drew attention to her full-cut pink nylon panties and the matching brassiere.

Her breasts were small but firm, her panties clung to her pudenda which had to be completely shaven because her cleft was fully delineated through the gauzy fabric. Her long legs were clad in sheer flesh-toned hold-up stockings.

Katya approached the bed slowly, teasing Dan, making him wait. She didn’t gyrate or roll her hips, she didn’t need to. Her sheer elegance was both exotic and erotic. As she got closer Dan could see the scars on her body; the type that came from being misused by men who liked to hurt to women but Katya was not self-conscious about them. She wore her scars like badges of honour.

Katya climbed on the bed and straddled Dan, pressing her lips to his and pressing her panty-covered pubis on his cock. He reached for her breasts, freeing them from her brassiere. Katya gyrated her hips and felt his cock nestle in the cleft of her sex; her nylon panties becoming damp from his pre-ejaculate and her vaginal secretions.

She dove her tongue into Dan’s mouth and adjusted her position so that Dan’s glans was pressing on her clitoris and began to slowly undulate against him. Dan stroked and tweaked her erect nipples, his cock so hard that it almost hurt. He wanted to plunge it inside this gorgeous mature woman; drive it all the way into her cunt and ejaculate. But he resisted the temptation and let Katya take the lead.

She rubbed her stocking-sheathed thighs against his tender flesh and pressed her panty-shrouded cunt on his throbbing cock as her tongue wriggled in his mouth. Katya was whimpering and moaning and Dan realised that she was orgasming. He had never seen a woman cum so quickly before.

She gyrated her hips and wriggled her pudenda, forcing Dan’s cock inside her labia, grinding it on her clitoris, her panties saturated with her vaginal secretions. She was shuddering and uttering foreign obscenities between passionate kisses. The feel of her warm sodden vagina encased in the gossamer nylon panties pressing on his cock triggered Dan’s orgasm.

Katya smiled as she felt his hot seed saturate her panties and mingle with her love juices. She drove her tongue deep into his mouth and clung to him, shaking and whimpering.

When she stopped gyrating Dan thought their lovemaking was over and regretted that he hadn't put his cock inside Katya but she was far from finished. She rolled over and dragged him with her so that he was lying on top of her. She dexterously slid her hand down between their bodies and guided Dan’s still erect penis inside her panties and raised her haunches so that he slid all the way inside her.

The feel of her tight, wet vagina clinging to his cock felt incredible and Dan felt his libido kick back into gear. Katya wrapped her arms and legs around his muscled torso, her heels raked his back as she encouraged him to fuck her. She kissed him passionately and rose to meet his thrusts as Dan fucked her with long slow strokes.

The feel of her nylons on his skin, her breasts on his chest, her heels locked behind his back and her lips on his was spectacularly arousing and Dan enjoyed every second of their lovemaking.

Katya and Dan took their time and slowly ground out their second orgasms, ensuring that they satisfied each other. They dozed after and Dan was awakened by Katya’s mouth on his penis and he told her that he wouldn’t be able to make it a third time but he did with her help.

Katya had spare panties and a new package of pantyhose in her handbag which made Dan think that she was either a girl scout or that she had intended to seduce him all along. What type of woman carries spare underwear in her handbag? He tried not to analyse it too much as he showered.

Katya had already showered and she was dressed in bra, panties and pantyhose fixing her makeup when he came out of the shower. He noticed her spray herself liberally with Dior Poison before she dressed, then she was all business.

“Let’s go and see what we can find out at Supergirls,” she said as she smoothed her lipstick with the pad of her little finger.

Katya left a twenty for the housemaid and they made their way downstairs.

The young concierge gave them a knowing grin which Katya studiously ignored and put on her sunglasses as she stepped out into the cool afternoon sunshine.

Katya took Dan’s arm as they crossed the street and burst through the doors into Supergirls. They stood for a minute to let their eyes adjust to the gloom after being out in the bright sunshine.

A burly doorman behind a cash register gave them the onceover, figured, as Katya had predicted, that they were a couple of business people slumming it on the wrong side of town. He told them there was no cover charge but there was a two drink minimum and that they each had to change a minimum of twenty dollars into singles.

Katya used her debit card and got one hundred dollars’ worth of George Washington’s from the doorman and a scantily-clad hostess led them to a table near the stage. Katya ordered Vodka on the rocks for them both and told the hostess to keep the drinks coming.

The place was half-empty or half-full depending on your perspective. The crowd consisted of businessmen and salesmen who had snuck away from work early, feverish-faced slackers addicted to the girls because they had no chance of ever getting a real girlfriend, and hard-faced working class men clutching pints of watery beer. There were only two other women customers, both skanky looking, clinging to their beefy boyfriends as if protecting them from the lure of the exotic dancers.

Katya and Dan fitted right in and after checking out Katya’s legs and ass as she walked to the table the men returned their gazes back to the stage where two scantily-clad women were dry-humping dance poles.

Dan and Katya drank their two drink minimum watching the girls perform and stuffing dollar bills in their panties and bras when the girls performed in front of them. Dan doubted he could raise a hardon even with a shit-ton of Viagra and the skinny blonde women in their Minnie-Mouse high heels didn’t do anything for him anyway. Not when he had Katya Kuznetsova sitting beside him.

Dan and Katya played their roles well, encouraging the girls to gyrate in front of them, generous with their tips. The hostess saw how they were dressed and the cash they were flashing and asked them if they would like a VIP room. Katya handed over her debit card and they were led to a small private room, elaborately furnished with a plush bench, small cocktail table, subdued pink lighting, the walls draped with colourful sheer curtains.

Two ice buckets with bottles of cheap champagne and four glasses were provided. The music was more subdued and seductive than the unce-unce-unce beat out in the main club. Two skinny blonde girls with enhanced breasts wearing see-through bras and panties and vinyl micro-mini skirts were shown into the room. They wore too much makeup and their smiles were fixed and overly-salacious, almost desperate.

The hostess looked expectantly at Dan who nodded his approval and the hostess returned Katya’s debit card with a receipt stub for two hundred dollars and closed the door to give them privacy.

One of the girls poured champagne and the other sat so close to Dan that she might as well have sat in his lap. The girls introduced themselves as Misha and Mirna, made-up names if there ever had been. They both had Slavic accents. They all clinked glasses and Mirna cuddled up to Katya and told her how beautiful she was as she stroked her thigh. Misha nuzzled Dan’s ear and plopped herself down in his lap and gyrated her bony ass.

The two bargirls had been watching Dan and Katya from the minute they entered the club, splashing cash, drinking heavily, gawking at the pole-dancers. Dan and Katya were doing a good job acting their roles and as they both had a high tolerance for alcohol they were able to act convincingly whilst keeping their wits about them.

A foursome was offered and accepted and Misha and Mirna nodded to each other knowingly. The hostess suddenly reappeared and gave Dan and Katya the onceover to make sure they were kosher. Cops didn’t run stings in the free zone but one could never be too careful. She explained that it would cost one thousand dollars to take Misha and Mirna upstairs for one hour and Dan and Katya nodded enthusiastically. They wouldn’t have got an Oscar but they acted their parts pretty well.

Katya’s card was hit for another thousand dollars and returned to her with a receipt. The hostess led them out of the VIP room and through an unmarked door behind which was a staircase. They followed her along a corridor with three bedrooms either side with a bathroom at the end. Misha and Mirna walked behind them carrying the champagne, nattering in a Slavic dialect.

Katya leaned into Dan pretending to be a little drunk and a little nervous.

“They think that we’re a couple of rubes and they're trying to figure out how they can squeeze more money out of us to keep for themselves,” Katya whispered in his ear.

Dan nodded and smiled as if she had made a lewd suggestion.

The hostess left them alone in one of the bedrooms and Misha made a point of locking the door.

“Now we have privacy we can really party,” she smiled and began to pour more drinks.

Dan climbed onto a chair and used his coat to cover the concealed camera mounted high on the wall that was aimed at the huge bed.

“Now we can have privacy,” he grinned at the two hookers who simply shrugged their shoulders.

These two rubes were not as dumb as they looked.

Katya surprised Misha and Mirna when she took an envelope out of her handbag and put it beside her on the bed. She opened the envelope and took out a wad of cash held together with a rubber band. She fanned the money and grinned at the girls.

“Ok. We can do any kind of kinky shit you want but you can’t leave any marks on us,” Misha stared at the wad of cash with abject greed.

“That won’t be necessary. I just have some questions,” Katya said in Russian and the girls looked at each other with surprise and then they looked back at the wad of cash that Katya was holding and they both nodded.

Misha and Mirna had both answered online advertisements promising domestic work in the US at a good salary. Misha was from Donetsk and Mirna was from Kharkiv. The MO was the same at both recruitment agencies. The girls were advised that waiting for a J-1 visa was only going to cost them money when they could be earning big bucks, living in nice houses, wearing nice clothes and earning a good wage.

People were smuggled into the US constantly and once they were stateside no one was going to care. ICE and the other law enforcement agencies were too busy chasing down suspected terrorists, drug smugglers and transnational criminals to worry about housemaids and nannies.

Both girls said that they were surprised at how quickly the recruitment agencies worked. Mirna was given a bus ticket to Kyiv and Misha was driven there in a van with four other girls. The girls were a little concerned when they were then driven to Serbia where more girls joined them. The smugglers continued to tell them that everything was fine and they were well treated. The van continued to the port of Dubrovnik where the girls were loaded into a shipping container.

Two of the girls refused to go in the can and were taken away by the smugglers. Eighteen young women endured nearly two weeks ocean passage in the container. They were transhipped somewhere in South America and crossed the border from Mexico and were finally freed in a warehouse facility somewhere in the US. The girls didn’t know where.

It turned out that freedom from the container did not necessarily mean freedom per se. It was here that the rough handling commenced. The girls were sorted by looks more than anything else and the younger girls were given a vaginal exam.

Two pretty virgins were taken aside and driven away in a car never to be seen again. About half of the girls, the younger better-looking ones, were put in a van and taken to a large house with many rooms. Mirna said that she and Misha were part of this group. The others were taken elsewhere and Mirna said that she had seen one of the other girls wearing a housemaid’s uniform at Walmart only a few weeks earlier so she guessed they had become domestics.

Mirna, Misha and the others were told that they would be working as prostitutes. They had no papers, no friends or family and no way to support themselves. Using a combination of coercion, intimidation and force the girls eventually submitted and were farmed out to brothels across the US.

Mirna and Misha had ended up here in Balwyn. They lived in a big house with ten other European girls. They said that conditions were not that bad, they were well clothed and well fed and even allowed out under supervision. They were encouraged to engage online with other girls from their home towns and tell them how good a life they had in the United States.

The deal was that they were indentured for two years and allowed to keep twenty-five percent of their earnings which was considered generous. They could send money home if they wanted. The Bratok didn’t charge them for board or victuals and they had a stipend for clothing.

Mirna and Misha said it was a pretty good deal and that some of the girls working at Supergirls had completed their two year ‘contracts’ and stayed on anyway, keeping fifty percent of what they earned and had moved out into the community.

Dan and Katya took down as many details as possible including the names of the recruiting agencies. They stayed with the girls long enough for the hostess to think they had participated in the activities they had paid for.

“My friend is big guy in Texas State Police and I work for the Yakovich Bratva. Keep money and keep mouths shut or my friend will have you arrested and deported or worse for you, I will have you visited by some guys who are not very friendly. When they finish with you, no man will want to fuck you. Understand?” Katya adopted her ‘moose and squirrel’ Natasha Fatale accent.

She nodded to Dan who flashed his badge at the two girls who didn’t look at anything except the wad of cash that Katya was holding.

The girls nodded vigorously, never taking their eyes off the money.

Katya threw the money on the bed and she and Dan left.

“Did you have to threaten them?” Dan asked as they made their way downstairs.

“Don’t feel sorry for them Dan. They are no longer the sweet teenagers who applied for domestic jobs in the US. They knew about the camera in the room which they use to blackmail clients but more importantly they had knives hidden under the mattress and roofies in the bedside table.”

“They would never cheat their regular customers but a couple of rubes from of out of town are fair game,” Katya said as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Don’t forget… I used to be just like them,” Katya opened the door to the booming unce-unce-unce of the dance music.

To be continued…