Slaver's Dozen (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  SLAVER’S DOZEN

  BOOK THREE OF THE KLITZMAN STORIES

  By

  PAUL BLADES

  Copyright©2010 Paul Blades

  Dark Visions Publications

  darkvisionspub@gmail.com

  (c) Can Stock Photo Inc. /nfx 702

  All characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious

  CHAPTER ONE

  TEN GIRLS TAKE A TRIP

  In a three story commercial walk up on a small side street in lower Manhattan, a man descends a narrow, dimly lit staircase. When he reaches the street level, he puts down his small valise and takes a set of keys out of his pocket. He drops the keys in a mailbox with the label ‘Paradise Productions’. He removes the label and places it in his side jacket pocket. As he opens the door to the street, he looks back up the stairs and smiles. In two hours a cleaning crew will have erased any trace of his presence. He picks up his valise and steps into the street. He will find a cab at the corner. When he gets in he tells the driver, “Kennedy Airport.”

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  “Mary, Mary, come over here,” a nervous middle aged woman’s voice said. “Don’t get separated from the group.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Mary replied. “Will you please stop fussing. I’m just going for some coffee. Do you want some?”

  “No, no, none for me,” her mother answered, giving a big sacrificial sigh.

  Mary, a raven haired beauty, and her mother were waiting for a plane. They and about another twenty five or so nervous, young and attractive girls, their parents, friends and/or boyfriends. The plane was scheduled to leave at 10:30, but Mr. Paderovski wasn’t there yet. It was already 10:15. Nothing could happen without Mr. Paderovski. Mary’s mother was in a frazzle.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Mary?” she asked her daughter when she returned with a cup of hot decaf. “It’s so far and for so long. I’m going to be worried about you every night.”

  “Mom, please don’t do this,” Mary replied, exasperated. “I’ve made up my mind. I know you love me and you worry, but really, it’ll be all right.”

  The trip had been weeks in the planning, when you considered the long screening process and the many interviews. You see, Mary, and nine other lucky, model quality, young women had been selected to be representatives of Paradise Productions’ international tour. All of the girls had stars in their eyes. Lana and Brenda, Brittany and Danielle, Carol, Karen, Kit, Rene, Sheila and Mary were the finalists and winners of a three month’s long talent search. They had just the right youth, vitality, innocence and beauty to model the ready to wear fashions of Paradise’s many garment industry customers. They were about to launch a new, world wide promotion, with stops in Madrid, Genoa, Athens, Ankara, Bangkok, Manila and more. It was a lifetime opportunity.

  A slender, strawberry blonde girl, Kit, bumped into a similarly coiffed, shapely, young girl, Sheila. They turned and looked at each other.

  “Oh!” they both cried. “You made it too!”

  “Yes, and so did you,” answered Kit excitedly. They had met at one of the auditions and had promised each other that they would both make the cut. The two hugged excitedly.

  “I just knew that you’d make it!” Sheila said her arms still around her friend.

  “Me too!” Kit replied. “I mean, that is, I thought that you would make it too!”

  “I know what you mean,” Sheila said, excusing the other girl’s slip of the tongue.

  “Do you think that they’ll let us bunk together?” Kit asked.

  “Oh, I hope so,” said Sheila.

  If anyone in the airport waiting area had taken the time to notice, the ten girls chosen for the “Paradise Tour” were all of the same body type, lithe and curvaceous, all of approximately the same size, between 5’6” and 7”, all blessed with ample cleavage to best show off the customers’ designs. It was simple to explain. If all the girls were approximately the same size, they could exchange clothes easily. They would need only one set of each garment and any of them could wear it on any given day. All the girls were between 20 and 21.

  And the selection process had not been limited to just physical beauty. Mr. Paderovski and his assistant, Ms. Bowers, had explained carefully the need for girls who would not embarrass the company. A very rigorous reference system had been in place. They had all had to submit to medical exams to prove their lack of prior ‘unacceptable behavior’. Aids, HIV, any other possible medical problems had been ruled out. Mr. Paderovski wanted girls who were ‘pure and demure’.

  And Mrs. Bowers was there to make sure it stayed that way. All cell phones were banned for the trip, no email, no instant messenger, no text messages. The parents and loved ones had been assured that the girls would return as innocent as they had started out.

  Finally, Paderovski appeared. “Ladies, ladies, ladies,” he called out. “Please gather round me. There’s been a change of plan!”

  A groan arose from the assembled group.

  “It hasn’t been cancelled?” Karen cried out. She was the redhead of the group and a thick mane of curly hair, two shades short of orange, flowed down to her shoulders. She had fine, pale skin, colored like cream. She had mostly grown out of freckles, but a small enough hint of them remained, enough for her to retain a bright sheen of youth. She had known this would happen! Her Irish born mother had warned her in her thick Irish brogue, “Don’t get yer hopes up, Kar. That way it won’t hurt too much when it falls troo.” Karen had had enough of her mother’s depressing world view. It drove her father to drink and now was driving her out of the house. What a chance to escape! But now it looked like her mother was right. Was she condemned to eternal disappointment, she asked herself.

  ‘No, no,” Paderovski answered, “it’s not cancelled. No, dear. It’s just that we’ve been offered the use of the corporate jet belonging to one of our sponsors. We’re going to be traveling in high style!”

  A general buzz of excitement went around the assembled group. Even Karen’s mother was impressed.

  “Does it have a kitchen and movies and stuff like that?” Carol asked. Carol was a chestnut haired brunette. Her hair hung down her back almost to her waist. She was there with her boyfriend, Peter. They had cried and promised to write to each other every day while she was gone. She had given him a list of the hotels they would stay at and their itinerary. “It’s just for three months,” she had told him tearfully. It surely broke her heart to see him so dismayed. But all in all she thought that it was for the good. They would see if they really loved each other. If their relationship could survive this separation, then she knew that it was real love. Peter had been pestering her to ‘do it” with him for almost six months. Well, pestering is maybe too strong a word. Let’s just say that he expressed his desires for “physical fulfillment” of their love in a strong, emotional way. Carol was glad that she had held out. She wanted the first time to be with someone she would love forever. When they came back, if their love was still strong, she would be sure.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Paderovski answered her. “All the amenities. Now everybody, hand in your tickets. Ms. Bowers, will you assist me?”

  Ms. Bowers was a tall, brown haired young woman of about twenty six. Her five years of greater world experience seemed like a hundred to these young girls and they doted on her. She had led them through the auditions, helped them dress, dried their tears. When Mr. Paderovski had told the girls that they had to pose in almost scandalous, tiny bikinis, she had trimmed their pubic hair down to narrow little beards. She helped them screw up their courage to walk out to the photo set and helped them pose against the plain, blue backdrop. The girls all looked up to her. She was virtual
ly model quality herself. Now all the girls crowded around to give her their tickets.

  “We have to move over to Gate 21,” Paderovski told the girls. “When we reach the boarding area, you can say your goodbyes. I have passes for you all. Only members of the party that are actually flying can go up to the gate.”

  Paderovski waived a handful of computer printed ducats. He was kind of an odd choice for the director of a promotion company. He was well built, muscular. He had rough features and large, meaty hands. His voice was deep, almost gravelly. But his tender treatment of he candidates belied his somewhat fierce exterior. He spoke to them gently, almost fatherly. He had personally delivered the good news to each the winners of the competition, calling them in for a special interview in his office. All of the girls were overcome with glee at winning. They were somewhat surprised that the departure date was so soon, a mere three days later. But, this was the world of high fashion where everything was fast.

  Paderovski hoisted his valise and waived the crowd on. “Let’s get going,” he said. It’s a long flight to Madrid.”

  “But our bags,” Brenda said nervously. “Where will we check them in?” Brenda was the nervous type. She had told herself so many times that she was wasting her time trying out for this trip; there were so many other beautiful girls. The night before her final interview, she had chewed through all the nails on her right hand. She prayed that Mr. Paderovski wouldn’t notice. He hadn’t and here she was. She was one of the five blondes of the group. Her hair was a silky, golden color. She wore it in a pony tail. When Mr. Paderovski had loosened it and draped it over her shoulders for one of the many test shoots, she had almost collapsed in fright. He had reached around her from the front and removed the pony tail holder with his arms over her shoulders. His body had been pressed close to hers. She could smell the strong, masculine scent on him, her breasts, nipples stiff, jammed into his chest. That night she had lain in bed and fantasized about kissing him. She blushed now every time she saw him. She was blushing now as he answered her question.

  “We’ll take the luggage directly to the plane. A baggage handler will stow it in the freight compartment. Now, come on girls!”

  The small crowd flowed towards Gate 21. Many a head turned in the terminal as the ten stunning beauties strolled hurriedly towards their bright futures. They had been all told to dress their best and all the girls were wearing their smartest, sexiest clothes. Although the trip had hardly begun, they had started to think of themselves as models already. They knew that all eyes were on them, and they liked it.

  When the group reached the entrance to the loading gates 20 through 27, Paderovski called a halt. “Okay everyone. Say your good byes. Next stop, glamour!”

  The girls kissed and hugged their loved ones. All except Rene. She was the odd girl out of the group. First of all, she liked to play with girls. And was she looking forward to this trip! She got wet just looking at the other models. And on the day of the bikini shoot, she had had to run to the bathroom and run cold water over her face. She didn’t want to be leaking through her bikini bottom. Rene, in spite of her soft, stylish name, was a hard case. She liked it on top. Her family was all back in Duluth. She had left her lover in their Lower East Side walkup this morning after a night of torrid lovemaking. She could still smell her discharge on her fingers. She watched the skirt of one of the girls, Lana, a light brown skinned, Latina beauty with shoulder length jet black hair, ride up on her well formed thighs as she reached up to hug her mother and father goodbye. Rene felt a tingle in her pussy.

  The girls finally started separating as Paderovski urged them on. They waived good bye as they zipped through the metal detector. He hurried them down to the gate. One of those rolling stairs had been brought up to the gate and the line of giggling, excited girls descended it. It was windy and they struggled to keep their tiny skirts from blowing up and exposing their panties as they crossed the tarmac. One by one they handed their single bag of luggage to the attendant and climbed the stairs into the jet.

  The inside of the jet was as plush and luxurious as they had imagined it would be. Ms. Barlow hustled them to their seats. Paderovski entered last. “Sit down girls! Buckle up!” he shouted to them. When he saw that they were all seated, he went to the door that separated the pilot’s cabin from the passenger compartment and knocked on the door twice. The sleek, shiny jet began to inch forwards. The girls all gave off a big cheer.

  It took about twenty minutes to get to the edge of the runway; it was a busy day at Kennedy Airport. As the girls heard the jet rev its engines prepatory to its mad dash for the sky, they looked at each other nervously. It was going to happen! It was really going to happen! The pilot released the brake and the jet began its race down the runway. A few moments later, they were in the air.

  CHAPTER TWOE

  THE FRIENDLY SKIES

  Ten beautiful, smartly dressed, young women sat in the well cushioned seats of a 360 Starjet hurtling eastwards over the Atlantic Ocean. After the takeoff, there had been a round robin debate on what in flight movie to watch. Three of the girls, Sheila, Carol and Brittany had voted for “Maid in Manhattan” with J-Lo and Ralph Fiennes. Lana, Karen and Brenda opted for Hugh Grant in “Love Actually”. Rene, Mary, Danielle and Kit wanted to watch “Brokeback Mountain”. It had taken some time, but after Ms. Bowers explained that they probably had time to watch them all, they decided to watch J-lo first, Hugh Grant second and “Brokeback Mountain” last. Rene wanted to throw up.

  They were in the middle of “Love Actually” when Mr. Paderovski turned on the cabin lights and announced that they were going to have a toast. The girls were delighted at the prospect of some real champagne. Ms. Bowers had a tray full of elegant champagne glasses all full to the brim with what she described as Dom Perignon. The tray made the rounds until every girl held a long stemmed flute of champagne in her hand. “Now, you’ve got to drink it all,” Mr. Paderovski called out, “or it’s bad luck.” He looked around to make sure that all the girls had their glasses ready. “Here’s to our tour,” he called out. “May everyone’s dreams come true!” There was a general cheer from the girls and ten flutes of champagne went bottoms up. No one commented on the fact that neither Mr. Paderovski nor Ms. Bowers participated in the toast. When all the glasses were collected, the movie went back on and the girls slumped back into their comfortable seats to enjoy the show.

  After about a half an hour, Ms. Bowers got out of her seat and checked up on the girls. They were all sound asleep. Ten blissfully ignorant, beautiful faces slumped in their seats, mouths agape, eyelids fluttering. Paderovski motioned for Ms. Bowers to take her seat and went to the control cabin. He entered without knocking. The pilot, a thirtyish, blond haired lad, with shoulder length hair and a golden handlebar moustache, looked at him and nodded. He picked up the radio transmitter and made a call.

  “Any station, any station, this is flight 2733 out of Kennedy, do you read me? Any station, any station, this is flight 2733 out of Kennedy, do you read me? Over.”

  A heavily accented voice replied in English.

  “Flight 2733, this is Lisbon, do you copy? Over.”

  “Lisbon, this is Flight 2733, I read you loud and clear. I have lost all pressure in my fuel pumps and am losing altitude fast. Do you copy? Over.”

  “I copy 2733. What is your position? Over.”

  “I’m about 300 miles, ….oh my God, my engines have cut off, I’m going down, repeat, I’m going down.”

  The pilot pressed the throttle forward and the plane began to descend rapidly to the black waters below. It was a dark, moonless night, heavily overcast. No running lights of any other planes were in sight. No ships could be seen from horizon to horizon.

  “2733, 2733, do you read me, this is Lisbon! Over.”

  “I’m going down, Lisbon, I can’t level her off. I’m going to try and make a water landing. I don’t think I have enough control. We’re coming in too fast…….”

  At this point the pilot shut the r
adio off. The plane had descended from 15,000 feet to about 2500 feet in less than a minute. It would have dropped right off of any radar screen that had been tracking it. Paderovski hustled to the back of the plane. The flight recorder and the GPS transmitter had been removed from the front cabin and stowed and rewired in the luggage compartment. Paderovski pulled a lever and the precious belongings of ten beautiful young women were strewn over the Atlantic along with the flight recorder and the GPS box.

  The sea beneath the jet had a depth of over 20,000 feet. It was still shallow enough that the signal from the high tech equipment would be ascertainable, but deep enough so that no submersible would be tempted to try and recover them. The plane would be presumed sunk after an emergency landing attempt that crashed open the luggage compartment. The personal belongings that would be recovered would be returned to the grieving families. After several months of investigations and computer modeling, the tragedy would be traced to a possible fault in a $25.00 coupling that linked the fuel tank to the fuel pumping system. A retrofit would be ordered in all 360 Starjets.

  This particular Starjet continued to cruise at 2500 feet for the next three hours. Its new course was south by south east. The jet had been retrofitted with an extra fuel tank to ensure that there was sufficient fuel for their destination since at this low altitude, air resistance was high and fuel economy low. It was just before dawn that the girls began to awaken from the induced slumber. Karen woke first. She couldn’t remember watching the end of the movie. She had a slight headache and her mind was fuzzy. She looked around and saw that all the other girls were still fast asleep. Karen had a window seat and she looked out expecting to see miles and miles of clouds and ocean. What she saw was the view from 2500 feet, a different picture indeed! She panicked.