At lunch, she went to an appliance store and purchased a small, digital video recorder. It was expensive, but Gloria had been paid very well over the last couple of years and she delighted in spending some of it to bring about the downfall of this modern-day Sodom. No, that wasn't quite it. She was more like Sampson, pushing down the pillars, bringing the roof down on herself as well as others. There might never be another job that paid as well as this one, but it no longer mattered. She was determined to put a stop to this disgusting, illegal behavior.
It was all too easy to film El—once the slut entered a corridor, no one paid the slightest attention to Gloria. She could almost hide the recorder in the palm of her hand as she filmed the action. El, walking toward her, dressed in her nasty blue robe, stopped every couple of feet at someone's command to raise her hem to display her bare pussy or open it to show off her obscene breasts. Hands came at her from all directions to fondle her or to swipe the fluid from her slit. There were cat-calls and hoots—it was terrible.
El, on this occasion, was on her way to get coffee. It was easy for Gloria to hang back and film over the heads of the crowd around the door. Someone requested El bend over to receive a spanking for some imagined infraction. El wiggled her ass for the crowd—and the camera—as one of the workers gave her a few slaps, leaving red marks on her well-used ass.
"That's the spirit!” A man shouted. “Now turn around and show us your cunt again!"
And El obeyed. She always did what the workers wanted—except fuck them, of course. Jack was her pimp. Gloria wished she could capture the interplay between the two of them on camera. That would be the nail in their coffins! As it was, she felt she had enough. She left work early and drove down to the nearest police station and marched in.
"I'd like to speak to a detective in the sex crimes department,” she told the startled desk sergeant. He looked her up and down, as if he couldn't believe someone would want to rape her, and said, “Sure, lady. If you'll have a seat over there, I'll have someone come up."
He made a call as Gloria seethed some more, tired of being treated like some kind of sexual leper. She had many fine qualities. If men had just given her a chance, she could've shown them what a wonderful wife she could've become. But men were all interested in superficialities. She never stood a chance against the Ellens of the world. Just because she didn't have a body like El's didn't mean—
Her thoughts were interrupted by two people approaching her, a man and a woman. The man was tall, middle-aged, with tired eyes that probably had seen too much. His hair formed a graying fringe around a balding head. The woman was shorter than Gloria, thin, with short-cropped red hair. The woman smiled and spoke first.
"Hello. I'm Detective Bishop and this is Detective Granski. How can we help?"
Gloria stood. “Hello, I'm Gloria Cooper and I work at Sawyer Metalworking. There's some illegal sexual activity that's going on there that you should be aware of."
They glanced at each other and Gloria could immediately see the disbelief in their eyes, as if they were thinking, “Another busy-body.” She would show them! Then they nodded in unison toward her and asked her to accompany them to an interview room, so they could “discuss this in private.” The silent Granski trailed along behind, making her uneasy. Was she really doing the right thing? Did anyone really care what went on at the plant?
Once inside the room, however, all she had to do was show the tape and explain why El acted this way, and the detectives became believers. The embezzlement, the deal with Sawyer, the activities of workers and clients alike, all came pouring out. The detectives were clearly stunned.
"All this has been happening for two years?” Granski finally spoke.
Gloria nodded.
"And you're only reporting it now?” Bishop put in, making Gloria's stomach twist in knots.
"Well, I was trapped too, for a while. You see, my brother-in-law works at the plant in El's old position of CFO. If I turned them in, he'd lose his job—we all would, probably. I couldn't do that to my sister."
"Then why now?” Bishop leaned in.
The truth erupted from Gloria before she could stop herself. “Because that slut is fucking my brother-in-law!"
Both detectives leaned back, nodding, eyebrows raised in unison. Gloria thought she saw the male detective struggling to hide a grin.
"Very well, if you could leave your camera here for a couple of days, we'll need to download this evidence,” Granski said. “This is going to take a few days to put together. You can return to work tomorrow if you like, or you can call in sick—it's up to you. But under no circumstances should you tell anyone about this, including your sister."
Gloria agreed, relieved that, at last, her long nightmare would soon be over. And that Jack's would be just beginning.
Chapter Three
Three days later, El was across town, under a conference table, sucking on one of four cocks that were thrusting out from four sets of slacks. A fifth set, still zipped up, belonged to Mr. Sawyer and he was leading the discussion among the executives of yet another potential client. El had forgotten the name already. They all ran together in her mind anyway. What was important was how well she did her job. Right now, she concentrated on sucking and licking this man's cock until he squirted into her mouth. She didn't even remember what his face looked like. When she had come into the room, dressed in her business suit, she caught a brief glimpse of the four men, but she quickly had been ordered under the table. Now her suit coat was unbuttoned and her short skirt hiked up to her hips as she worked to satisfy another client. The man's hands reached down to stroke a bare breast and tug at her nipple ring.
The man's thighs began to stiffen and El knew he was close. Suddenly she felt a hot stream of his spunk jet into the back of her throat and she swallowed it quickly. She cleaned the softening member with care and tucked it back into his pants. El zipped him up carefully and moved to the next one.
Later, in the car on the way back to the office, Mr. Sawyer rubbed her naked pussy and told her how much business the new clients would be bringing to the factory. El didn't really listen, she simply enjoyed the sensation of his fingers playing with her clit, tugging at her ring.
"I'm so proud of you, El! We're going to have to expand the plant again! I'm thinking of giving you a bigger apartment—would you like that?
"Whatever you want, sir."
He nodded, his eyes on the road. His fingers were beginning to tease a climax out of her and El found it hard to concentrate on his words. She closed her eyes and rode the sensations, drifting higher and higher toward an orgasm.
Suddenly, Jack's fingers pulled away and he muttered, “What the fuck?"
El opened her eyes to see the parking lot filled with police cars. There were two gathered near the front door, along with two dark, unmarked cars, and another patrol car was parked at the rear of the lot.
"What the hell is going on?” He said, then turned to El. “I'm going around the block; you fix your clothes!” He drove around, giving El a chance to button up her business suit and pull down her skirt. When she was ready her boss drove into the lot. He pulled up near the front door. Jack got out, ignoring El, and demanded of the first cop he saw: “What's going on here?"
The officer, a young man with a crew cut, eyed him suspiciously. “Are you Jack Sawyer?"
"Yes, yes I am. I own this business. I demand to know what's going on!"
The cop turned and signaled to a plain-clothed man standing by the entrance, standing next to a short woman with red hair. They hurried over.
"Jack Sawyer?” One asked. He was tall, with tired eyes.
"Yes, yes! Dammit, tell me what's going on!"'
The first detective jerked his head at his partner. She went around to the passenger side of the car. “And this, I assume, is Ellen Sanchez?"
Jack began to pale. “Yes. That's her."
"Mr. Sawyer, my name is Detective Granski and this is Detective Bishop. We're from the sex crimes division
. We're placing you and Ms. Sanchez under arrest for prostitution, pandering and other assorted sex crimes. You have the right to remain silent..."
Before the man could grab his arm, Jack leaned down and said to El: “Don't say anything to the police.” The detective jerked him upright and slapped the handcuffs on his wrists.
Bishop opened the door and helped El out. She looked bewildered. “Mr. Sawyer?” She asked, looking for guidance.
"It's all right, El. I'll call my lawyer."
El tried to be brave, but when the detective placed handcuffs on her and began reading her her rights, she began to cry. It was as if all the work she had done in the last two years to avoid being arrested for embezzlement had gone for naught. She watched as Mr. Sawyer was handcuffed as well. They were separated and put in the back of two police cars. El watched as another young man in a dark sports coat came out of the building carrying some papers. He stopped and talked to the other detectives. The tall one jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the cars where she and Mr. Sawyer had been taken.
The man smiled and nodded. More police officers came out of the building, carrying computers and more papers. Then Gloria came out, smiling, accompanied by a blonde woman of medium height wearing a dark pants suit and a tan overcoat. The blonde dressed very well, El noted, and wondered if she was another detective.
Two officers got into the cars holding Mr. Sawyer and El and they drove off separately. “Where are you taking me?” She asked, pulling against her tight handcuffs. The man said nothing. She sighed and sat back, fighting the tears in her eyes. She recalled what they had said about prostitution, but she wasn't sure why they didn't say embezzlement. Perhaps they are just waiting to get them downtown to formally charge her. She tried not to think about it. Just leave it up to Mr. Sawyer; he knows best what to do.
* * * *
Jack knew his business would be hurt by the arrest and the resulting publicity. He had expected something like this could happen, but the longer it had gone on, the less it seemed possible. No one had raised a fuss before—why now? He wondered who had turned him in. Perhaps a client, or a former employee. Or maybe Sisco? No matter. He had a good lawyer on retainer and he would help get him out of this.
Perhaps he should've insisted El leave once she had paid up, six months ago. But shit, she was so aroused all the time, so willing to continue to do what she was told! She was like the perfect woman—all sex drive and no brains. He smiled to himself, then caught the eyes of the officer in the rear-view mirror and turned away, chagrined.
This was no laughing matter. The cop pulled up behind the station that seemed to be full of media vans. Shit! No doubt the cops had alerted them. He wanted to hide his face, but the officer gave him no chance—he was hauled out and duck-walked toward the door. Microphones were thrust at him from the assembled back of reporters. Questions flew at him.
"Mr. Sawyer! Is it true you kept a sex slave at work?"
"Did she use sex to win new clients?"
"How many sex slaves do you have?"
He ignored them and they reached the back door. Just before they went inside, the crowd suddenly turned as one.
"There! Is that her? Is that the slave?"
"Come on!"
The crowd hurried over to the other car. Jack caught a glimpse of a frightened El in the back seat before the door shut behind him.
"I want a lawyer,” he said to the cop, who just grunted. He was taken down a dull green corridor past a bull pen full of metal desks to an interview room. The room was about eight feet by ten feet and had a wall-length mirror on the side opposite the door. He knew there would be people behind the one-way glass, watching him.
The officer sat him in a chair and started to leave. “Hey,” Jack shouted after him. “What about my cuffs? Aren't you going to remove them?"
The cop just shook his head and closed the door. Jack sat there for a few minutes, wondering what was happening to El. Though he had exploited her badly, he still cared about her. He knew she would be terrified by all this.
After what seemed like an hour, but was probably no more than fifteen minutes, the door opened and two people walked in—the tall detective from the plant, followed by the short red-head. His heart fell when he thought of all the evidence they must now have.
"Mr. Sawyer? Remember us? I'm Detective Granski and this is Detective Bishop. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"No,” he said at once. “I want my attorney."
"If you insist,” Bishop said, coming close and perching on the edge of the table with one thigh. For one brief moment, Jack pictured her kneeling by his desk, naked. He pushed the thought away. “But it might be better if we could just clear this up informally."
Jack snorted. “You must think I'm an idiot. I invoke my rights to remain silent until provided with my attorney. If you'll give me my one phone call, I'll call him."
They glanced at each other and the older man shrugged. “OK, tough guy. Have it your way. But things will go harder for you now."
They left.
* * * *
Down the hall, in Interview Room 2, El sat terrified, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her wrists remained cuffed, preventing her from wiping her nose or fixing her makeup. Mr. Sawyer's going to be mad, she thought.
The door opened suddenly, and it startled her. She nearly fell out of her chair. The red-head she'd seen at the plant came over and steadied her. The larger man just stood there, staring at her.
"Are you OK?” the woman asked.
"No. I'm scared. I want to see Mr. Sawyer."
"He's busy right now. But you can talk to us. My name is Bishop and this is Detective Granski."
She shook her head. “M-Mr. Sawyer said not to."
The big man laughed. “Mr. Sawyer is in a lot of trouble. He'll probably go to jail for a long time. You'd better think about what's going to happen to you."
El looked over at the redhead, trying to find a friendly face. Bishop smiled. “Look, we don't want you to suffer any more than you already have. We just want to understand what went on at that plant. Can you fill us in?"
El knew better than to fall for that. If she told them, her embezzlement would be revealed. And she knew that those charges were far more serious than a few sex crimes in which she had willingly participated.
"I don't want to talk right now. I want to see Mr. Sawyer."
"You can't see him,” Granski said harshly, causing more tears to flow from El's eyes.
"Listen—” Bishop began. Suddenly, the door burst open and a blonde woman strode in. “Bishop, Granski—why is that woman still in handcuffs?"
The detectives turned around as one. “Well, if it isn't our illustrious ADA,” Granski said. “Why shouldn't she be in handcuffs?"
"Because that's not the way the state treats its star witness,” she said. She came closer, extending a hand that she placed on El's right shoulder. “Please take them off so we can have a proper chat."
Granski goggled. “Star witness? We have a complaining witness already! And we have a half-dozen charges against her!"
"That's how you see it. I see her as a victim."
Granski opened his mouth and closed it again, then shrugged and shook his head. He slumped back against the wall. Bishop removed the cuffs. “There, that's better,” the blonde woman said as El rubbed her wrists, then wiped her nose with the back of a hand.
The blonde pulled a tissue out of her purse and handed it over. “Try this.” She waited while El got herself in better shape, then she said, “I'm Diane Franklin, the assistant district attorney for the county. I would like to talk to you about the ordeal you've been in for the last couple of years."
El stared at her. The “ordeal” she described was of her own choosing—if she revealed anything, this woman could put her away for embezzlement. She shook her head. “I want to talk to Mr. Sawyer."
"That's what she's been saying to us,” Bishop put in. “It's like he's got some sort of hold over her."
"He does.” She looked at the detectives. “Would you mind if I spoke to her alone?"
Granski shrugged again and the two detectives left.
Franklin sat down across the table from El. She put her hands over El's. “I know how this all started. We already have one witness. I know that you've been trapped into doing all sorts of things against your will. I've been authorized to give you immunity from prosecution for any embezzlement you may have done in exchange for your testimony against Jack Sawyer."
Chapter Four
"It's a good deal, I'd take it,” her attorney told her. Betty Montrose was a public defender who specialized in sex cases and she had jumped all over this one with both feet. They were meeting in a small room just down the hall from ADA Franklin's office in the county courthouse.
When Jack Sawyer's lawyer had heard that the DA was offering El a deal, he tried to get the court to authorize his firm to handle her defense as well, an effort that was quickly shot down as a blatant conflict of interest. Because El had no money of her own until the complex finances set up by Jack could be straightened out, El's case had fallen to the public defender's office. Montrose saw it as an opportunity not only for her career, but for the cause of women everywhere.
She was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with dark, unkempt hair who took no crap from anyone. Her looks and manner had gotten her the nickname “Moose,” which she pretended to dislike but had been secretly flattered. If you got in her way, the story went, she'd trample all over you. She knew for a fact that Diane Franklin had nearly busted a gasket when she heard Moose had the case.
"You've been brutally exploited and any crimes you may have committed before are being waived, provided you testify against Jack Sawyer,” Montrose continued. “That means, the embezzlement never happened, as far as the DA is concerned. They consider the crimes Jack committed are far worse than the ones you allegedly did."
Office Slave II Page 2
