ENSLAVED BY SHIFTERS

by Astrid Lee Donovan

  “Renee, would you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, Natalia.” I could tell he was confused by my mood swing.

  “That man, when he leaves, he will get into a red van and we will need to follow it.”

  Poor Renee, he had already said yes to my request and fortunately for me he was a man of his word. He wanted to ask to ask the details, but I interrupted with a feigned laugh.

  “We won’t kill anyone or do anything illegal. I just wanna see where he goes.”

  I called the waitress over and ordered a shot of Brandy with my next café mocha and nursed it as I waited for my husband to leave with another woman. I was resisting the temptation to stab him in the throat and rip Mindy’s bad weave off. I let my strategic, logical side stay in control because I knew positioning was the art of gunnery and I wanted a clean target.

  They left a half hour later and we followed behind with Renee leading the way. His imposing structure reduced the possibility of my short self being seen. They stayed in the car parked for a while with the window of the family car cracked enough for me to see their heads. His was thrown back, his mouth was open and his eyes glazed over. Renee looked at me for instructions and I whispered to him to wait. We watched, seeing nothing but a man contorting his face as though he was having a stroke. I could also see the bad weave bopping up and down in his lap. A few minutes later, the passenger door opened and Mindy spit something on the curb. What the fuck was I witnessing? The vehicle was defiled and I was disgusted.

  I was calmer than I imagined I would be in this situation. In college, my boyfriend had cheated on me and I had caught him in the act. At the time the police had to intervene, things were broken and someone required dental surgery as well as stitches. I was too mature for that shit now. They drove off and I sat there silent with a man I barely knew. Renee didn’t ask me but one question.

  “What do you want me to do now?” I’m certain he had pieced together the story by now. He was no fool.

  “Take me somewhere… anywhere.”

  We drove around for a while, but I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. I was consumed by my own disturbed thoughts. What would I tell the girls? I knew my Mom would say ‘I told you so’. She was convinced he was cheating a long time ago when she saw our car in the parking lot of a seedy hotel. Amanda would be happy; she never liked him. Apparently I was the blind and deaf one all this time.

  We had pulled into a regular avenue with regular houses and he killed the engine. I sat immobilized from the day’s events. The passenger door opened and he helped me out of the seat holding my hand. His hand was warm and my hand felt safe in it. His apartment was reached by a wooden staircase. It was in need of a coat of paint, but otherwise it was well kept.

  He opened the door and walked in while I almost fell over the dining room table, which was just behind the door.

  “It’s really small,” he said. That was an understatement. The flick of the light switch revealed just how tiny it was. Studio style, it was devoid of all personality and color. It was evident that the regular tenant was also a male and this was definitely a bachelor pad.

  A small suitcase in the corner was an indication of Renee’s temporary resident status. I needed to use the bathroom and he directed me to a door on the left. It was almost a closet that contained bathroom fixtures. The shower was miniature and I was sure Renee had to crouch to use it. I struggled with my spanx as I sat on the toilet to pee. I was again hit with the reality that my world had come crashing down. Tears began to flow and I didn’t wipe them. I was angry, hurt and frustrated. My hopes were now permanently dashed that my marriage would survive. My life was now malfunctioning and I had no idea what to do.

  I cleaned my face and emerged from the bathroom to join him on his bed. Bob Marley was on the stereo and I was going to try to relax. He was a smart man and knew that this wasn’t the time for talking; it was time to let my tears flow. The flood gates opened and the waterfall from my eyes burned hot.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled me to his chest and I sobbed harder. My makeup on his shirt, but he didn’t care. He held me there until my tears were replaced by fatigue and exhaustion.

  The smell of food woke me from my depression induced coma. My eyes felt like sandpaper when I forced them open and couldn’t figure out why I felt so horrible. Bacon. The smell was bacon and it was sizzling and popping, but I wasn’t the one cooking it and this wasn’t my house. Where the hell was I? As the confusion subsided, I looked down at my clothes and the horrible ordeal came flooding back and I once again felt very tired.

  Wait, I was in bed…did I screw this man? I grabbed my crotch and everything seemed intact. Renee had set the small table and was watching me sleep. He was now wearing a white wife beater and basketball shorts. He made two strides to shut off the stove and two strides to help me up. In the bathroom, I looked into his mirror after helping myself to some mouthwash. I looked old, haggard and ugly. Back to being me, I thought.

  At the table the orange juice was cold and sweet and it was all I could manage. He reminded me that it was Saturday and there was no work and I felt a wash of relief. I was still dressed in my skimpy attire and I needed to go home. When I spoke to my mom and the children I kept my situation to myself. He was doing the dishes and I stared through the window waiting for him to finish. My voice interrupted the sound of running water in the sink.

  “The man in the red van was my husband and the woman was my neighbor. I have no idea how to handle this situation. Night after night he goes bowling. I should have known better. What black man goes bowling? He hasn’t touched me in months and he’s never home. Why didn’t I see this earlier?”

  I rambled on for fifteen minutes and Renee stopped what he was doing to listen intently with a grim face. In a few strides he was next to me, holding me from behind and pulling me close. He whispered in my ear.

  “It is going to be alright Natalia; you will survive this.” I turned around to look into his eyes and felt a level of intimacy that was new to me. Heat radiated from his chest and my body reacted on its own.

  Kissing was not what we did; we were inhaling each other, gasping for air in between the intertwined tongues. I was drowning and I needed rescuing and he would be my lifeguard. He sat down at one of the dining room chairs and pulled me between his legs. His thirst was insatiable and he searched my neck clutched my ass to pull me closer. My moans were soft as I was caught in the web he was spinning. His erection sticking me in my tummy brought me back to reality. My husband was fucking Mindy and I was finding solace in a man I barely knew. He pulled away when he felt my body stiffen and immediately moved his hands.

  “I’m sorry. This isn’t the way I had imagined it would be. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  His dick was telling a different story though, but we both knew it wasn’t going to happen. I resisted the temptation to find out exactly how he had imagined it. Waiting in the garage for the cab to arrive, I mused over the fact that my husband hadn’t called even once to check on me. I guess he was too occupied with Mindy.

  No kisses were exchanged as I left, only looks of concern as the vehicle exited the driveway. I rolled through my neighborhood with an empty head and no thoughts to share. I was ill prepared for my situation and dreaded the inevitable confrontation.

  8

  Mindy the whore’s house was purple. Only a whore would have a purple house. I considered getting out and hurling the garbage can through her window, but in the end I decided not to. The red van was in the driveway and at 11:45 my husband was asleep on the couch. Maybe I should boil some water and cook this pig. I resisted the temptation. Instead, I took a shower and used my laptop upstairs. I was going to do some investigation.

  The electronic bill from the cell company was accessible after a few security questions. I started in December and searched for unfamiliar numbers. The first one I encountered had four late night phone calls and a few text messages. This number received increasing calls f
rom December until the present. A reverse directory search revealed that the number did belong to Mindy. I discovered another number I was unfamiliar with and I stored it in my cell phone. My husband was not tech savvy and had no need for his own laptop. He lacked the knowledge to eliminate his electronic trail.

  To the right of the home page I selected history and scanned it. Porn, porn, and more porn. Outside of that the most frequently visited was for a swingers site where apparently discretion and privacy was their main concern.

  The website revealed no physical address and only a telephone number - the same as the one I had come across earlier and stored in my phone. A woman answered the phone. "What’s today’s password?’' Her voice was sultry and slow as she pronounced her words. A quick glance at the site revealed that chocolate was the word of the day.

  “Chocolate,” I said after a few seconds and slow music cut in before another female with a professional tone spoke. “Thank you for calling fantasy. How many are you booking for and will you be choosing the Blue, pink or rainbow room?” On a whim I decided to go with the rainbow room. She then outlined the terms and conditions and said payment was due a minimum of twenty-four hours before next Friday’s appointment.

  So my husband was a swinger and he was funding it with our credit cards. An online credit check revealed that every Friday from January until today he was making payments to Fantasy Inc. Having had enough of this Sherlock Holmes fiasco I went downstairs to make lunch.

  As I prepared my flat bread pizza, I thought about beating him at his game. I was going to play and play it well. He came to the table after he showered and smiled. We were rarely alone together and this would be interesting. He was telling me about his killer bowling game and then the football game he watched at the bar with the guys. Games, games, games. We would see who wins. I made intelligent sounds and he assumed I was listening. He was so caught up in his story he was that he didn’t notice my underlying scowl.

  I made my day pass quickly with chores, stopping occasionally to tell Amanda about my ‘amazing’ night and to let Renee know I was doing alright. Sunday I went to church alone and knelt at the altar in prayer when the pastor wanted to bless the lost sheep of the congregation. I needed a miracle of healing. I had lunch at my Mom’s house with the girls and my husband didn’t call or text even once.

  On Monday there was an awkward silence as Renee and I were yet to address the elephant in the room. At lunch I simply rested my head on the table and he rested his fingers on my hand.

  “Natalia can I ask about the situation at home?”

  “I’m acting like nothing’s change. He has no clue what I know.”

  I kept my plans to myself.

  “How do you feel about what happened between us? Did it upset you?”

  Our eyes made contact and locked.

  “No, I’m not upset, but it was out of character for me for many reasons. I’m cool with it and we both had too much to drink anyway. I know I’m not necessarily your type. You did say your ex was thin. Maybe the Henny just got in the way.”

  His knee was in its usual place between my legs and he leaned forward and let it intentionally rub on my exposed panties. Like an animal in heat I pushed my pelvis forward and opened my legs even more to accommodate this most unusual massage.

  He never looked away as he moved his knee and held my hand while increasing pressure on my swelling mound. Oh my God! The orgasm hit me hard and I closed my eyes as a small cry left my lips. He spoke in a low voice that was deepened by desire.

  “When I was a boy I did childish things, but now I am a man I will act as such. I used to think that the perfect woman was model sized and I didn’t check for personality or soul or sincerity, but you Natalia are the perfect kind of woman. Your body is stunning and your personality is amazing. You should never let anyone make you feel anything less than special.”

  His words made me cry. I cried because the man that should be telling me these words was the one causing my pain. I didn’t reply to his monologue, I just sat there with my emotions exposed.

  9

  My week was filled with acting and I honestly deserved an award. Getting through the week was easier as I thought about Friday’s event. Unknown to anyone, I had contracted Natasha to make me another ensemble. She asked no questions and I was very specific in my design. It was delivered on Thursday morning and it was perfect. We had no issues this time.

  My husband left at 9 pm and I left fifteen minutes later. My make up was minimal as my face would be covered. The cab let me off on the corner of a busy street and I walked past some college students who made loud cat calls in my direction. Apparently, I still had it. I inspected myself in the shiny glass of the fancy men’s clothing shop and I had to agree. I deserved the cat calls.

  Natasha, the hustler, had done an excellent job. The cat suit was all black and the turtle neck had long sleeves and the pants extended down to my ankles where my imitation red soles took over. The sale counter provided the spike collar and cuff, but the mask was borrowed from my daughter’s Halloween costume. It was fashioned to cover the eyes and the upper nose and gave me the power of a super hero. Vengeance was coming and I was going to serve a very cold dish.

  The entrance was ordinary and unassuming with only the pink ribbon on the door giving any indication of what was inside.

  Down the lane find the pink bow

  But the password you must know

  On the door you must knock thrice

  Please don’t cum if you have to think twice

  These were the instructions that came in the response email after they confirmed they had received the money from my credit card. A separate email with a single word indicated the password: CANDY. Following the dress code, mask included, was new for me, but I liked it… a lot. I placed my mask on my face and knocked three times. An unseen hand opened the door and an empty room greeted me.

  On a glass table before me were two sculptures made of crystal. One replicated a penis and the other, a vagina. I stepped forward and the table illuminated with a keyboard. A voice filled the room, “please type the password.” I typed Candy and then it instructed me to touch my preference. I chose the penis and a mirrored wall behind the glass table separated. A white man emerged from the entrance and extended his hand. A white mask covered his face and that was all he wore. I had to pretend like I was a regular here and this was not a shock to me - but it was! I took the extended hand and he led me to a hall with three rooms that were accessed through beautiful roman style arches. In front of each room were satin covered tables with every style and size sex toy imaginable.

  The rainbow room had the appropriate name as every piece of drapery, linen and furniture was brightly covered. I sipped the wine provided by the naked waitress and took in my surroundings. I sat next to a couple going at it. His dick was long and pink and she was gagging on it. His hands were on her head, pushing her down and depriving her of air. I hoped my face wasn’t revealing that I was a newbie and then remembered a mask covered it. The man winked at me and I decided it was time to move on. I wasn’t escaping much as I passed through the rooms. Everywhere I looked people were in various stages of undress were engaging in licking, sucking and screwing.

  As I approached a staircase at the back of the rainbow room, I could hear screaming and I wanted to see where it was coming from. The room on the top had a table with much more sinister looking toys than downstairs. Whips and chains were the weapons of choice and my curiosity piqued even more.

  The room was obviously a place for a new level of sex and bondage was its name. Inside, wires that would not be foreign to a trapeze artist, ran vertically across the room and a harness of some sort hung from it. A man was being lead from the room on a leash like a dog and I was amazed that this would turn anyone on.

  The woman leading him constantly kicked him and demanded he get up in quick time. As I followed the woman to a small room, I watched her give the ‘dog’ back to a person at the door and disappear. Turni
ng away from the room, I was thinking if any man would allow himself to be treated in this manner, he must really feel horrible about his performance levels.

  A voice trailed behind me, “have you come for your dog?” And I turned around and poked my head in the doorway. Surveying the room, I noticed about six men tied to posts. All were on all fours and panting like puppies. I was about to answer in the negative when a tattoo caught my eye. It was one word, Virgo, and I knew who was behind the mask.

  “Yes,” I said,” I have come for my dog. I want that one right there,” and pointed him out. She shouted that I should choose my tools and I selected a nice whip with steel running down the threads. I also choose some type of vibrating stimulator with a remote and cable ties.

  In my most authoritative voice I said, “come along,” and yanked his leash with enough force to cut his air supply. In the trapeze room, I kicked him over and positioned my shoes in his balls. I applied pressure and my deep voice reappeared.

  ”Does it hurt?”

  “No mistress.”

  “Liar!” And I slapped him across the face to emphasize my disgust. I added pressure and he yelped in pain. I dragged him to his feet by the seat of his leather pants and he stumbled and fell to his face. Two naked male assistants appeared unsummoned and started to strap him into the harness. Spread eagled he hung before me and I walked around the pitiful sight, in total disgust.

  “Mistress,” he called and I was silent for a while. His blindfold prevented him from knowing my direction.

  “Shut up! Did I ask you to speak?”

  “No mistress.”

  “Well then, speak when you are spoken to,” and a lash across the ass cheeks solidified my statement. He was whimpering, but I want to hear him scream in pain the way he inflicted pain on me.