by Annie Jocoby
I shook my head. “Why are you doing this? I mean that sincerely. You’ve never wanted to help me or anybody in the family before.”
She looked straight ahead. “I’ve found some things out about myself recently. I can’t go into that just now, but I’ve had a breakthrough in therapy. And meeting Dalilah...I don’t think that you fully appreciate what you have there with her. She’s special, even more than you know. Yeah, she’s a genius and artistic prodigy and all of that, but there’s some untapped potential in her, too. I can see that. So, I’m doing this for her, too. But I admit that I don’t want my baby brother serving time for something he didn’t do. Although you probably should think twice before trying to beat down psychotic billionaires in the future. Word to the wise.”
I chuckled in spite of myself. “Not my most shining moment, that. But my intentions were good.”
“Of that I have no doubt. You were sticking up for your girlfriend, and that’s noble. Not the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but noble nonetheless.”
I relaxed, and tried to bring down my walls, which, I admit, were always up with her. Stop being so suspicious. Dalilah loves her, and take her at her word. She wants to change, she wants to be a part of the family again. Let her help you, and don’t question it.
We finally arrived, and I took a deep breath. “I really hope that I can pull this off.”
“You can,” she said, putting my face in her hands. “Look me in the eyes.”
I obeyed. She did have a strong will.
“Okay. Now. Here’s how it’s all going to go down. We go in there, and we ask to speak to Mistress Claire. We tell the person who’s admitting the clients that we’re investigating an assault case. And that’s all that we say. They’ll let us in once we flash our badges.”
“Yes,” I said. “And then we talk to Mistress Claire and we give her the story. Which is the true story, right?”
“Right. Now, I’ve done my homework, and this Mistress Claire is the head-mistress, and probably would be the one who works over the really important clients like this Blake Nottingham. So, she’s the best place to start our inquiry.”
“Are you sure that telling the truth is the best thing here?”
“Yes. We need Mistress Claire to know exactly what we’re looking for. If we tell her a lie, then it will come out, sooner or later. And forget about getting a good statement then.”
“And what if she lies? She’s going to want to protect Nottingham, I would think. These clubs are very confidential and they want to protect their clients as much as possible.”
“That’s when we begin the shake-down. We threaten subpoenas and guarantee that the cops will be watching their place very closely from now on. They don’t want any trouble, believe me.”
“Yeah, but I’m quite sure that Nottingham is a VIP there. They’re not going to want to lose his business for sure.”
Serena shrugged. “They’re going to have to choose between losing his business and inviting the cops in to monitor them closely. As an underground club, you can bet that they’ll be willing to sing like a canary rather than invite increased scrutiny. At least, that’s the gamble.”
“And what if they call in our badge numbers, or something like that?”
“It’ll check out. I’m not that stupid.”
I shook my head. “What do you mean, it’ll check out?”
“I got connections. Somebody legit gave me these badges.”
“What do you mean-“
“You ask too many questions, kid. Too many questions. Now, let’s move.”
I took a deep breath, but felt much more confident now that I knew that, somehow, these badges were “official.” I shook my head. Somehow, having a sister who didn’t mind doing things “extralegally” and had some powerful connections, was paying off for me. I realized how little I knew about my sister, and I was actually starting to warm up to her, little by little.
There was a lot that I was going to learn about her. Not all of it was going to be pretty, but that’s life.
At that, we got out of the car and went to the nondescript door of the Rose Club.
Chapter 48
Before we went through the door, Serena looked at me and pointed. “Remember, like we own the fucking place. Got that? Follow my lead.”
I nodded, feeling nervous. Serena sure had the confidence to pull this off. I, on the other hand, had just turned 21 years old, and I felt like I looked like a kid still. My disguise didn’t quash those feelings one bit. I always pictured undercover officers as being quite a bit older, so I felt self-conscious. But Serena opened the door and strutted right up to the lady who was behind a podium that looked almost like a movie box-office. She was heavily made-up, and was dressed in a leather bikini and high-heeled stiletto boots. In her hand she had a whip. She cocked her head at the two of us.
“May I help you?” she asked, fingering her whip.
Serena flashed her badge. “I need to speak to Mistress Claire.”
The woman nodded, and looked at me. “And you are?”
Like I own the place. I went right up to her and flashed my badge as well. She looked at mine at little bit longer than she did Serena’s, and I felt my heart pounding wildly. I could imagine myself behind bars, again, and facing yet another felony – that of impersonating an officer.
Finally, after what seemed like years, but probably was only seconds, the woman buzzed the heavy red door in front of us, and Serena and I walked on in. I let out my breath, and tried to shake it off as I watched my sister strut through the door.
Something told me that this wasn’t her first rodeo in doing this.
“Come with me,” an enormous black lady said. She was dressed in flimsy lingerie that barely covered her huge breasts and legs. She had long red talons, and, like the woman who guarded the door, she had on high stilettos, but hers were strappy, as opposed to being gladiator boots. There was a large event space with a stripper pole and a trapeze, and a stage with a nude woman sitting in a chair, her legs spread open, with a guy between her legs and another behind her, fondling her breasts. From that room, there were several windy hallways which passed by several different rooms, all of which had glass walls, so that Serena and I could see everything that was going on in there.
Each of the rooms appeared to cater to a specific kind of kink. There was a room that was a cold-looking medical examination room, complete with a sterile metal table with stirrups. On the table was a woman who was tied up, and another woman was giving her what looked like a typical pelvic exam. Another room was a room that looked like it was reserved for people who had tickling fetishes, because there was a large bed in this room and various items that would be used to tickle people. On the bed was somebody who was doing just that – tickling another woman with a large feather.
I tried hard not to seem like a looky-loo, reminding myself that I was supposed to be a professional, therefore I couldn’t stop and marvel at what I was seeing. But I felt like doing just that. I realized how much of a virgin that I was when it came to this type of thing.
Finally, our guide led us to a room that was clearly outfitted for BDSM practices. This was a large room, and, in the middle, was a St. Andrew’s Cross, which was like a regular cross, but it was shaped like an X instead of a T. There was a man who was chained up on this cross, bound by both his wrists and his ankles, and he was completely nude, except for a cock ring. He had a gag on his mouth, and nipple chains that were being pulled by a beautiful woman in a tight-fitting red leather gown. She had a whip in one of her hands and a dildo in another.
I guessed that this woman was Mistress Claire, although she hardly looked large enough to be able to inflict the kind of damage that was wrought upon Nottingham in those pictures that I saw. I wondered if she had some kind of assistant, or if there were men who did this kind of thing as well.
I felt uncomfortable watching the torture of this man, who was writhing and trying to cry out in pain, but his leather gag stopped him from
doing so. But the woman looked at us, and smiled, and went to the other side of the man and lashed his thighs. She obviously didn’t mind putting on a show, and, I figured, that the guy on the cross didn’t mind, either, although he couldn’t very well voice his consent to us watching his torture right at that moment.
Serena watched with me, her face impassive. Again, I felt that this was probably just old hat with her, because she seemed not fazed by it all. I nudged her. “Perhaps we should come back at a better time?”
“No,” she whispered back. “The performance is almost done.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just can,” she said.
And, sure enough, within five minutes, the man was released from his cross, and he got down on the floor and literally crawled while Mistress Claire kicked him along with her boots. He crawled along to a room that was just off to the side of the torture chamber, and Mistress Claire came over to us.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was surprisingly melodic and soft, in contrast to what I imagined the voice of a dominatrix to be.
“Yes,” Serena said, flashing her badge. “I’m Detective Robinowitz, and this is Detective Stetson.” She nudged me, and I flashed my badge as well. Flashing the badge was getting easier and easier, I found, but I didn’t exactly want to get overconfident.
Mistress Claire looked wary, but she nodded and said “follow me.” We did, to a small room that was adjacent to the dungeon. It was a typical office, really, with a cherry desk, two chairs and a computer. Soft music was playing, some kind of dreamy electronica. The walls were red, which seemed to be a theme throughout this place, and there was a Picasso knock-off on one of the walls, and an enormous fake tree was in the corner.
The dominatrix sat down behind the desk, and motioned for Serena and me to have a seat on the other side of the desk, which we did. “Okay,” she said. “What can I do for the two of you?”
Without hesitation, Serena said “You have a client here, by the name of Blake Nottingham.”
Mistress Claire shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
At that, Serena brought out the picture of Nottingham with the bruised-up eye.
The dominatrix looked at the picture. “Oh, that guy. Okay. Well, most of our clients don’t use their own names, and he’s no exception. What do you need to know about him?”
“He came in here on the night of December 18. Correct?”
“Let me see,” she said, popping on her computer. “We have the schedule here of who came to visit, and it looks like...yes. Yes, he was here that night. What’s your order of business?”
“He presented that night to the ER with signs of being battered. Concussion, internal bleeding. He used his injuries to try to frame another man for felony assault. Obviously, it sounds as if there was an alternative explanation for these injuries. I need for you to make a notarized statement that I can present to the prosecutor.”
“Are you going to subpoena these records?” Mistress Claire asked.
I held my breath. I doubted that what we were doing could be the basis for a subpoena, as the entire conversation would probably be considered to be hearsay.
Serena raised her eyebrow. “Well, we can do this for you the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you give us the statement that we’re asking for, and, in return, you won’t be harassed by the NYPD. The hard way is that you make us get a subpoena, and you get a special task force that will be dedicated to coming down here and inspecting all of your practices. I’m quite sure that you’re familiar with the laws and the codes of this city, and how many of these codes you violate on a routine basis. This place will be shut down in no time.”
Mistress Claire tapped her fingers on the desk, obviously trying to decide whether to turn in an important client, or to risk having the wrath of the police force rain down upon their establishment. I felt myself holding my breath, knowing that, if she called Serena’s bluff, I would be SOL.
“Everything we do here is safe, sane and consensual,” she said, repeating the BDSM mantra. “But we don’t want any trouble. What kind of statement do you want?”
“A statement that he was here on the night in question, and what kind of treatment he got here.”
“Well, it looks like he was being attended to by Mikael that night. I’ll go see if Mikael is around, and he can give you the details of what kind of service Mr. Roberts got that night.”
“I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Roberts?” Serena said.
“Oh, I apologize. That’s the assumed name that this Blake Nottingham uses. That slipped out and it shouldn’t have.”
Serena flashed her badge again. “What’s the full name that Mr. Nottingham uses when he comes here?”
“Luke Roberts,” Mistress Claire said. “I’ll be right back.” And, at that, she left.
As soon as Mistress Claire got out of earshot, Serena started laughing. “What’s so funny?” I asked her.
“Boy, this guy has a hard-on for you, kid. Not literally, but he really wants to get you in trouble all the way around. Using your name as his assumed name at a sex club? That’s pretty priceless right there.”
In spite of myself, I started laughing as well. It was kinda funny in a slanderous kind of way, really. “He really will go to any lengths to get revenge on me, that’s for sure.”
But the levity of that moment gave way to serious apprehension as the moments clicked by, and Mistress Claire didn’t reappear, and neither did Mikael. I took a deep breath, imagining the worst. Usually in the movies, whenever somebody leaves the room, they would come back with the actual authorities, and the fake cops are busted right then and there. I could imagine the Mistress returning with some uniformed police officers who would announce that Serena and I were both under arrest.
Serena looked at me. “That’s not going to happen, now stop thinking that.”
I cocked my head at her. “What’s not going to happen?”
“That woman isn’t going to come back in here with uniformed policemen. You have to relax. It’s all going to work out, just trust me.”
I furrowed my brows. “How did you-“
“Don’t ask so many questions. Things are going to be fine, you’ll see.”
“But I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “It’s written on your face. You’re terrified of getting busted. I’ve done this fifty times, kid, and I’ve never even come close to being busted. Now, just relax, please. If you keep looking like a deer in the headlights, this Mistress Claire person might really feel that you’re trying to put one over, and then you just might end up in the clink.”
I shook my head, wondering if this was Dalilah meant when she told me that my sister was unique. She seemed to have some kind of sixth sense, as she was completely tuned into my wavelength and thoughts.
Serena shrugged. “You’re getting easier for me to read, now that you don’t hate me so much. When you bring your walls down, I can tune into your energy much better. I like this much more than before, really.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. You’re one of the easier people to read, really, just because there’s no artifice to you. What you see is what you get with you. Your girlfriend is a different story, though. She’s pretty complex, but I’m really starting to get to pick up on her story as well. I love that girl, but she’s capable of great deceit, much more than you. Step lightly there.”
I felt that I needed to defend Dalilah. “She was only deceitful to save me. You shouldn’t say that about her.”
“You act like being deceitful is always a bad thing. Trust me, it has its positive uses. Case in point,” she said, flashing her fake badge at me. “I think if Dalilah were here with me, she’d be as unruffled as a military bunk bed. She has that ability to cover up what’s really going on with her. You, not so much.”
“How do you know...” I said, but I never got to finish my sentence, for Mikael came through the door at just that instance. Serena and
I both rose to our feet to greet the hulking man, who was dressed in a leather g-string, with gladiator shoes and two leather belts that criss-crossed his hairy chest. He was around 6’5” and at least 220 lbs of solid muscle. He definitely looked like somebody who would be capable of roughing up Nottingham.
I tried hard to stifle a smile, as I imagined this guy working over the stiff, prim and proper Nottingham, while Nottingham begged him for more. I looked over at Serena, but her face, as it had been that entire time we were there, was impassive.
“Hello,” the Hulk said. “You’re here to talk to me?”
“Yes,” Serena said, all business. “My name is Detective Robinowitz and this is my partner, Detective Stetson. We’re here to talk to you about a man whom you might know as Luke Roberts. I understand he’s a regular here.”
Mikael looked at both of us suspiciously. “We try to keep our clients’ identities confidential. That’s the only way that a place like this can stay in business. Once our clients know that we’re willing to sell them out, then this place will not be in business much longer.”
“Okay, let me give this to you straight. Your business is already under investigation for allowing minors in this door. You’ve already invited close scrutiny for that. If you don’t give us what we want, this scrutiny will be stepped up. How long do you think that you’ll be in business after our sex crimes division gets through with you? Now, I can call off the dogs, but only if you dance. I need an authorized statement from you that this man, whose name is Blake Nottingham by the way, not Luke Roberts, was here on the night of the 18th, and you beat him badly at his request. I’m going to show you some pictures, and I need for you to make an authorized statement that you were the one who caused the injuries in these pictures.” Serena got out the pictures, and showed Mikael them, and I could tell by his expression that he was the one who roughed up Nottingham, for he looked non-plussed. “Make an authorized statement, or risk being shut down. Your choice.”
“We don’t want no trouble,” he said.
“Then give us what we need.”
