by D. M. Pruden
On seeing my approach, a broad smile broke out on his face and he came around his desk to greet me with a bear hug.
“Doctor Melanie. So good of you to come and visit me again.”
He smelled of expensive cologne and wore a dark warm looking wool coat. The rings on his fingers flashed gold in the flickering light of the fires below as he vigorously shook both my hands. His closely cropped, oiled beard shone jet black as did his full head of slicked back hair. He reminded me of the bear that frightened me the one time I’d been to a Terran zoo as a young child.
“Oscar, you are looking well,” I said as I took a seat across from him at the desk. I sank down into the soft cushion and craned my head to look up at him.
“What can I say? Business has been good. You see? Now I have this most excellent desk, once owned by a tsar in old Russia. You are familiar with Russia? On Terra?”
“Yes, I am.”
He beamed at me.
“So few people learn of their heritage. It is important to understand from where we come, no? Otherwise, we just become cavemen, throwing rocks at each other, no?”
Oscar obliquely referred to his rumoured military career during the war of independence. The word was that Luna ran a special operations force tasked with redirecting asteroids towards Terra. Luna always officially denied the allegations, but two major strikes on Terran cities did a lot to end hostilities.
“Do you know of your heritage, Doctor Melanie?”
“I’m afraid not, Oscar. I am a war orphan.” My standard lie.
“Oh, pity. But you have emerged stronger, no? A doctor who helps people. See the people you have helped? You are a hero, here.” He beamed broadly and extended his arms to indicate his little fiefdom.
I blushed and squirmed in the uncomfortable chair. I was anything but a hero, and he knew it.
“But you did not come to me to glory in the fruit of your good works, did you?” He became all business.
“No, Oscar, I’m here about our other arrangement.”
He smiled beneath his moustache and looked down on me like a judge about to pass sentence.
“What arrangement might that be?” His eyes glinted, but I couldn’t tell if from mischief or malice.
“The transportation arrangement? You moved some commodities for me?”
“I recall no such arrangement, Doctor Melanie. I recall you donating some items for us to sell for the good of the people.” Again, his large hands extended toward the cavern behind me.
Maybe it was the chair, or the stench of the place, or simply my desperation; whatever the reason, I did something I told myself I wouldn’t let happen.
“Damn it, Oscar. You owe me one hundred thousand credits.” I regretted those words the moment they came out of me.
He glared at me. Then the snarl beneath the moustache curled upward into a toothy grin that showed off his gold-capped front tooth though his eyes did not join in. He put both arms on the desk, leaned forward and spoke so softly I strained to hear.
“Let me be clear. You are owed nothing. The drugs are mine and you have your life and may leave, unharmed. You understand, yes?”
I sank into the ridiculous chair and sighed quietly.
“I understand, yes.”
He sat back and his eyes regained their playful glint.
“Vasily will escort you safely out.” The large man on his right stepped around the desk and stood beside me.
“Doctor Melanie, it is a very dangerous place, here. It is not advisable for you to return uninvited. I could not guarantee your safety and would hate to tell the people that something unfortunate happened to their patron saint. You understand me, yes?”
“I understand you, yes.”
Vasily, not too gently, helped me to my feet.
“I think we will not meet again, Doctor Melanie. I wish you well.”
I held my tongue and allowed Vasily to show me the way out. I had just danced with the devil’s doorman and was grateful I still lived to tell about it.
Chapter 6
I admired the foxy woman who looked back at me from the mirror. I spun a quick turn and liked what I saw. I enjoyed the same svelte figure I owned in my twenties, including the firm boobs and killer ass. Lunar gravity helped that way; less wear and tear on all the potentially saggy parts. I had to admit that I cleaned up well. It took a couple of hours, but after a spa treatment that cost a small ransom and some expensive makeup, I hardly recognized myself. I presented as a sexy woman instead of a space rat.
“Where have you been hiding, Sugar?” I queried the vixen who gazed back at me. She winked but I doubted her sincerity.
What the hell was I thinking? I had given up this life, twenty years before with no intention of ever revisiting it.
♢♢♢
When Walter Bickel found me I had thought him another one of a long line of dirty old men, out for a cheap screw with an under aged prostitute. My handlers had determined my value in supplying services to older professionals with daughter fixations and wives that paid no attention to them. The fact that I wasn’t strung out on drugs like all the other girls my age and could actually carry on a conversation merely added to my appeal.
He claimed he hadn’t sought me out for sex, however. Naturally I didn’t believe him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He maintained a healthy distance between us, stepping back whenever I moved in to begin my routine.
“What do you want? A show?”
“No, I’d just like to talk, if that’s okay?”
“This is your hour,” I told him, displaying all of the bravado of someone well on her way to the end of a short life. I jumped on top of the hastily made up bed and he sat in the cheap chair beside the cheaper desk.
“My name is Walter. What is yours?”
I regarded him as a rube.
“You ain’t paying’ enough to know that, Walter.” I enunciated his name to make my point.
“Fair enough. What may I call you?”
“You kin call me Angela, I s’pose.”
“How old are you, Angela? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
“I’m old enough,” I responded defiantly. “I got ID that says so. What are you, a cop? Cuz if you are, we ain’t doing nothin’ that you can arrest me for, even if I was underage.” I was eager to demonstrate my undeveloped appreciation of the law. Something about Walter compelled me to impress him, or at least try.
“Everything is okay, Angela. We’re only talking. I’m not with the police, or social services or any church organization, so you can relax.”
“Then why ARE you here?” I wasn’t about to relax. The whole situation started to creep me out.
“As I said, I’ve heard a lot about you and I wanted to meet you for myself.”
“Why? Whose bin talking’ about me? If it’s Britney, you can’t believe anything that drugged up skank says. She’s just tryin’ to mess with my business.”
“It isn’t anyone you know. “
Now I worried. I honestly didn’t know anyone outside of the small circle of girls my pimp allowed me to associate with. Walter took notice of my discomfort.
“There is no need to worry. I have a proposal for you if you’d like to hear it.”
I relaxed. He was finally getting down to business. With any luck, I could finish him fast and take a short break before the next client.
“Nothing, kinky.” I started to undress. Walter shook his head with amusement on his face.
“Nothing kinky, I assure you. I want to offer you a chance for an education.”
“Look, Wal-ter,” I over-enunciated his name again, “I told you nothing kinky. That included your school girl fantasy...”
He burst our laughing.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny?”
“I’m sorry. This is entirely my own fault. I chose my words poorly.”
“Well, you better get to the point or else I’m ending your hour now.” I pulled my top back on and edged to the sid
e of the bed.
“Melanie, I’m here to offer you a way out of this life, if you want it.”
I froze at the mention of my real name.
“How do you know my name? Nobody knows that, not even Skids.” Skids was my pimp boyfriend.
Walter must have sensed his closing window of opportunity. He ignored my question and continued with his pitch.
“You’re an intelligent young lady. I want to give you a chance. I want to sponsor your education. I think you’d make a fine engineer or doctor.”
I have no idea why I listened to him. My brain screamed at me to get the hell out, but something about his manner and voice drew me in. It took some fancy talking on his part, but I stayed in that hotel room and I weighed every word. He asked me to think about it.
He met several more times with me, and, in the end, something about him was convincing enough that I decided to take him up on his offer. It turned out to be the biggest break of my tragic life, a regular Cinderella story. At least for a few short years.
♢♢♢
I checked for the time and realized I still needed to put some clothing on the doll looking back at me from the mirror. I turned my attention to the items I’d recovered from long term storage.
The choice came down to two outfits I swore I would never again wear. The older cocktail type dress imitated the styles of the mid-twentieth century. It went of fashion ages ago but showed off my ass to good advantage in a short flared skirt. The other, more contemporary outfit, while technically out of style as well, was modern enough not to draw too much-unwanted attention while still complimenting my cleavage and figure.
I had to be careful to be noticed by the right people, and not the Morality Police, so the second one became the only choice.
The dark-net account that I accessed on return to the apartment sent a signal to my CI. The number of responses to my ad surprised me. Most of the responders were perverts or poorly concealed attempts at entrapment by the MP.
Scrolling through the list, I worried I wasted my time and money in an effort to reenter a profession I’d sworn off long ago. One response caught my eye and gave me a glimmer of hope that my plan stood a chance.
The man’s profile seemed promising, so I confirmed his references. Some of them were girls I knew, customers for off book antibiotics, botox, and recreational pharmaceuticals. Even though I didn’t associate with them in anything beyond a business capacity, I still trusted some of them.
Their endorsement for Jake Matthiews, or whatever his real name, made him credible as a legitimate customer. Not too young; not too old; good credit reference; clean health check; moderate sexual tastes with nothing flagged as too kinky. If his deposit cleared, he might be worth the risk of a meeting.
I beamed him a reply and set up a rendezvous in Hub 10, at an upscale nightclub called Earthshine. Then I booked a room for the night in the most expensive hotel in the upper Tens.
Feet now firmly placed on the chosen path, I took one last inspection of my reflection for encouragement and resumed dressing.
♢♢♢
An hour later found me perched on the edge of the bar stool and nursing an overpriced drink. I wiped the sweat from my palms on the cocktail napkin for the fifth time while I scanned the crowd. They were mostly middle management professionals or up and coming political wannabes in their mid-thirties to forties. The younger people didn’t live in Armstrong if it could be avoided. The music in Earthshine consisted of a campy mix of the latest tunes and some retro shit that nobody really listened to, played at a tolerable volume to provide ambience, but not so loud as to force everyone to shout. Like I said, an older crowd.
I assessed the outfits worn by some of the other women in the club and decided that more than one of us sported outdated fashions. Despite the pretence at sophistication by the patrons of the Tens, Armstrong remained a backwater and most of these people wanted to get out as badly as me. The smart ones had the potential of scoring a transfer to Irwin, Artemis, Hawking or any of the other cities in the capital region. With the war over, they might even get an opportunity on Terra if they worked for one of the syndicates. The rest were lifers that tried to make the best of the shitty hand dealt them.
Right on time, my CI signalled that Jake Matthiews entered the nightclub. His picture file, discreetly omitted on his dark net profile, now came up on my CI. A handsome man, his image showed a strong jaw, deep blue eyes, trim, fit physique and close-cropped hair. He sported one of the currently fashionable temporary scalp tattoos wrapping around the back of his head.
I looked through the throng and located him near the entrance. By the cut of his suit and the way he walked to keep his balance, I guessed him to be newly arrived from Terra. Probably a syndicate executive away from home and looking for a little personal diversion between business meetings. The perfect customer. I signalled for my profile image to be released to him and indicated my location.
He emerged from the mass of people and made his way toward me. He gave me an appraising review, then, seeming satisfied that the goods were as advertised, sat down on the stool beside me.
“Angela?”
“Yes, I am. I presume you are Jake?”
“Guilty as charged.” He revealed a perfect set of dazzling white teeth when he smiled.
He flagged the bartender and ordered a drink for himself and a refill for me.
“Is this your first visit to Luna, Jake?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“We call it the B3; beginner balance bounce. It’s hard to hide until you are used to the gravity change.”
“Hmmm, I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. I take it you’re a long time resident here?”
I smiled coyly and moved close to whisper and give him a good nose full of my pheromone-laced perfume. “You are not paying enough for that kind of information, darling.”
“Oh, sorry, I’m afraid I’m not very experienced at this sort of thing. It...this is my first time and...”
“Shhh. It’ll all be fine,” I breathed heavily into his ear. “I think I have enough experience for the both of us.” I moved back from him and gave him a knowing wink. Jake blushed and searched for a reply until the bartender placed the drinks in front of us.
He raised his drink and clinked it in a toast with mine. He downed it in a single gulp, then flagged for another.
“Whoa! Slow down, Tiger. There’s no need to rush. You’re paying for the whole evening.”
Jake grinned nervously, the suave affectation he previously sported now evaporated. The second drink arrived and he sipped at it, calmer now. I used my experience to engage him in a casual conversation, laced with just enough innuendo about what awaited later to keep him on edge. I wanted him balanced between nervous and excited. With any luck, he wouldn’t last too long and I could enjoy the rest of my evening by myself. He seemed nice; kind of cute, even, but not anyone I particularly wanted to spend a great deal of time with.
After a half hour of escalating flirtation, spiced with a few more drinks, ‘Angela’ invited him to join her in the hotel room.
We rode alone in the lift, during which time, I teased him with soft kisses and suggestive ‘accidental’ brushing up against him with my breasts and hands. We entered the suite and I lead him by the hand towards the bedroom. He reached around behind me to undo my dress, but I stopped him gently.
“I’m afraid there are some business details to attend to first, Tiger.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
I handed him a tablet to authorize a credit transfer to my holding account. Once the payment was authorized and confirmed, I embraced him, giving him full access to the goods.
While Jake may have been a neophyte at the business of sex, he proved himself an expert practitioner of it. Despite the professional detachment I long ago learned to put up when entertaining clients, I found myself enjoying my time with him. It had been a long time since I enjoyed any kind of sexual encounter and he demonstrated enough compe
tence to allow me to relax and flow with the experience as much as possible.
When finished, we shared a sensual shower and then took our time getting dressed.
I sat on the bed, pulling on my silk stockings when a loud knock sounded on the door. Jake, seemingly unbothered by the intrusion, walked calmly toward the door. Before I could warn him not to, he opened it and two uniformed members of the Morality Police pushed into the room.
I glared at Jake, who just smiled and blew me a kiss as he strode confidently out of the room, showing every sign of being fully acclimated to Luna’s gravity. It had been a sting operation, and I’d fallen for it like a novice.
“Melanie Destin, you are under arrest for solicitation and prostitution,” recited the beefy officer, clearly enjoying himself.
This day just kept getting worse.
Chapter 7
It had been a very long time since I experienced such abject humiliation. I tried to remain stoic as the MP paraded me in restraints through the hotel lobby and into the corridors of Hub Ten.
Many of the sophisticated people who earlier in the evening snuck envious glances at me now openly displayed disdain on their faces. The officers led me, half dressed, to a waiting police monorail car.
The plodding car rumbled down the tracks at an agonizingly slow pace. About the time I believed the ride would never end, we stopped at the prisoner entrance to the sprawling Societal Protection and Education Centre, which occupied an entire Hub of Armstrong.
SPEC is a place that no citizen wants to find himself and to spend any duration at it means the authorities found you morally lacking and in need of re-education. I preferred to think of the place as a brainwashing clinic, but my opinion interested nobody.
