The Collector

by Scott Wittenburg

After hanging up from Yuri Popov’s second call, Viktor took a swig of Vodka and stared thoughtfully at the video screen. On the screen was a wide-angle view of the reception area for Healthway Massage and Spa. In the foreground was the back of Melanie’s lovely head. Melanie was the receptionist and wore a headset that was linked not only to the business phone but to the headset he was wearing by a wireless network. Beyond Melanie he saw the pair of chairs lining the wall and the main entrance to the spa. On either side of her desk were doors leading to the back.

  Viktor’s job was simple: just sit there monitoring the clients that entered the place. Most of the clientele were repeat business, which made his work incredibly boring most of the time. But other times it was interesting and in fact a vital aspect of the business. It was imperative to carefully screen all of those potential clients looking for services beyond standard massage therapy.

  Which would be the johns.

  A middle-aged man wearing an expensive gray suit suddenly came through the door. Viktor listened closely to his headset as Melanie greeted him.

  “Good afternoon. Do you have an appointment?”

  The man smiled and replied, “No, this is my first time here.”

  “I see. Are you familiar with our services?”

  “Oh, yes, and that is why I chose this place. Your reputation for quality service is first-rate.”

  “Why, thank you, sir. We pride ourselves on giving the best services at affordable prices. So what may I ask would interest you?”

  “I’m looking for something that would relax me and help tone my muscles at the same time. Do you have something like that?”

  “Why of course, uh, what is your name?”

  “James Foster. But you may call me Jim.”

  “Alright, Jim. Yes, as you know we are a full-service spa using all of the latest equipment and techniques. In addition to our whirlpools and private saunas, we offer a variety of packages that include the ultimate in relaxing massage coupled with a regimen of effective muscle-toning exercises.”

  “That’s what I want, a package deal.”

  Melanie smiled and handed him a brochure. “Our package deals are listed here along with our individual services. Why don’t you take a look and let me know which package interests you?”

  The man took the brochure, his expression a little odd. This was the part Viktor like the best. The part where the guy wanting to get laid is handed this brochure and seriously doubting that the service he’s looking for will be listed there. Sure enough, he quickly skimmed through it then looked at Melanie in a questioning manner.

  “I’m afraid I don’t see a package that quite suits me here.”

  Melanie paused almost imperceptibly, waiting to hear from Viktor over her headset. Viktor knew the man was okay—he recalled talking to him over a beer at one of the neighborhood bars a week ago. Many of the new clients had been informed of Healthway’s unique services in this manner.

  “He’s good, Melanie,” Viktor spoke softly into the microphone.

  Without skipping a beat Melanie said. “I forgot to tell you that not all of our services are listed there—that brochure is a bit outdated. Perhaps you’d like to step through that door into our consulting room. There will be somebody there who can help walk you through all of our available services.”

  Jim smiled broadly. “That would be excellent! Thank you, Melanie—you’ve been most helpful.”

  “You are more than welcome, Jim.”

  Viktor watched as Melanie stood up, walked over to the south door and held it open for the new client.

  “Did you see that suit he’s wearing? It must have cost a grand!” she whispered into the microphone after the door closed.

  “Let’s hope he’s as generous to Healthway as he is to his tailor,” Viktor replied.

  Melanie sat back down at her desk and Viktor took another sip of Vodka. His eyes went to a second video monitor that showed Jim Foster, or whatever his real name was standing in a small vacant room. A moment later, Babs entered the room from another door and walked over to Foster. Babs was wearing a thong bikini beneath a sheer pink see-through robe. She was knockout gorgeous and by far the best whore in the house. But she didn’t come cheap as Foster would soon learn.

  Babs took his hand and shook it gently. “Good afternoon. My name is Babs and I understand that you are interested in seeing our complete list of services.”

  Her English had improved dramatically in the year since she’d been brought here, Viktor acknowledged. It was clean enough to understand yet spoken with an accent that most men found irresistibly Russian. Babs had looks, brains and panache—the complete package.

  “Thank you, Babs, that is correct. My name is Jim and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Very well, Jim. I will start at the top and work down the list. The following features contribute to the price for our services: how many, for how long and what all you wish to be engaged in. The prices start at two hundred.”

  “Babs, I can tell you right now that money is no object. I came here for a good time and would like very much to experience all of the goods and services. So if you could please show me what is available in a timely manner, I would appreciate it.”

  Viktor smiled to himself when he saw the look on Bab’s face, which was worth the price of admission. He had seen some high rollers before but this Foster guy took the cake. He noticed Babs glance toward the video camera hidden in the ceiling for a split second and he felt like running out there and braining her for it. He could only hope Foster didn’t notice it, too.

  “Okay, Jim. There are I believe three girls available now, all beautiful of course. But before I introduce you to them, I’ll need a deposit.”

  “Would that be including you?”

  “Four, including me. But that will cost you much more.”

  “Of course,” he replied. Foster reached into his inside breast pocket and pulled out a billfold. He opened it, plucked two bills out and handed them over to Babs.

  “Here is your down payment. There will be more upon completion of the services, depending on the quality of the experience.”

  Babs quickly examined the two one-hundred-dollar bills and stuffed them into her top.

  “Very well, then. Please follow me this way, Jim.”

  Babs led Foster through the door she had just come through and disappeared from the monitor.

  “This is what makes it all worthwhile,” Viktor sighed aloud.

  “What was that, Vik?” he heard Melanie say over the headphone.

  “Nothing, dear. You’re doing a good job out there but let’s not start getting cocky or you’re going to be right back where you were before your promotion. Got it?”

  Viktor stared at the monitor and could see the back of her head, which seemed to be trembling ever so slightly.

  “Got it. I’m sorry.”

  “You’d better be.”

  Viktor lit up a Marlboro, inhaled deeply and poured himself another glass of Vodka. Peering down now at an array of smaller video monitors clustered below, he could see Babs leading Jim Foster through the vestibule. He wondered if Jim Foster had any idea what an exquisite experience he was in for.

  The total floor space of Healthway Massage and Spa was six thousand square feet and divided into two equal halves. The “legit half,” as it was referred to, consisted of a half dozen massage rooms, state-of-the-art spa equipment and provided excellent services for those clients wishing to relax and rejuvenate themselves. There were three full-time licensed masseuses working there that were paid quite handsomely to do their jobs and not to ask questions. They had been handpicked by Yuri prior to the establishment of the “other half” of the business.

  Dividing the two spaces was a ten-inch thick concrete wall covered with soundproofing material. The remaining space was similar in appearance to the legit side with a few exceptions. In place of massage tables and chairs were a half dozen rooms with custom-made queen sized beds. There were also a couple of whirlp
ools, a hot tub and a sauna dispersed throughout the space. Whenever necessary, the beds could be quickly replaced with massage tables and no one would be the wiser. This necessity had been rare in the spa’s six-year existence.

  The women working here were not licensed masseuses but prostitutes that had been trafficked primarily from Eastern Europe. Unlike the whores found in common brothels like Stokley’s Pub, these women had been trained to accommodate a more sophisticated, wealthier clientele. Having discovering that their new jobs consisted exclusively of sex-for-hire, these women had been raped and tortured repeatedly until they finally accepted their new positions without resistance. Then they had been preened, taught proper English and outfitted with fine expensive clothes and lingerie. In exchange for the privileges they enjoy, the women are allowed to socialize among one another and live in a relatively clean, safe place kept exclusively for them in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.

  But despite these rare privileges, they were still whores as far as Viktor was concerned. And they would remain employed here in this capacity until decided otherwise. They were paid nothing for their work but given credit toward the supposed expenses owed to their captors for their passports, transportation and this opportunity of glamorous employment in the United States. Their debt would of course never be paid off. They were severely punished if they ever got out of line. They were not to try to escape nor were they permitted to go anywhere other than this place and the place in Brighton Beach. If they crossed the line, they would be found and murdered. After their relatives back home were murdered, that is.

  Viktor considered the current lineup of girls Jim Foster was being introduced to. There were three Russians including Babs, a girl from Moldova, another one from Ukraine. Melanie, who up until last month worked as a whore before her promotion to the front desk was from Slovakia. The oldest woman in the group was twenty-seven, the youngest seventeen. All were beautiful, refined and healthy. All of them were ordered to employ safe sex practices, something that was occasionally frowned upon by some of the clientele, fools that they were. But that was the rule of the house.

  Jim would be shown each girl and be asked to make his choice or choices. Then he would have to commit up front what he wanted to do with the girl or girls and how long he was going to do it with her or them. Whether Babs participated or not, it was her responsibility to see that a client received only what he opted for, no more and no less. If there was trouble of any kind, whether it be a argument over the services or excessive physical harm to any of the girls, Anton would be contacted and sent in. Anton was a three hundred pound beast who liked nothing more than to settle differences with the clients. He worked full time out of a small room in the rear.

  Viktor realized that he was basically the nuts and bolts of the business but didn’t mind. Yuri not only owned the building but also had put up the capital to start up the business. On the books, however, there was absolutely no evidence that Yuri Popov had anything at all to do with Healthway Massage and Spa. The legal owner of the business existed in name only, and the non-existent Brian Wellsley always paid his taxes on time (income resulting from the “legit side, ” that is,) signed all of the payroll checks and handled all of the finances.

  Prior to his gig at the spa, Viktor had worked odd jobs most of his life since immigrating to the States in the early eighties. He had finally saved up enough money to buy the bar on Steinway Street several years ago. The place had never turned a profit until he decided to add prostitution to the menu. He had gotten the idea from Yuri in fact, who had finally confided what he had been doing during all of those trips to Germany. The first whore Viktor had acquired was named Natasha. She had been lured to the States like all of the others by the promise of great jobs and a piece of the American dream.

  When he first laid eyes on the woman, whom Yuri had sold to him for a thousand dollars, Viktor wondered if any of the men would be interested in banging her. She was less than decent-looking face-wise with a fair body but her English was poor and she was dumber than a post. He wasn’t really sure what to do the day Yuri had sent her to the pub, so he called Yuri up after he’d taken her up to her room. He felt stupid asking him, but Yuri seemed to understand. He simply told him to do whatever it took to turn the bitch into a good piece of ass. That meant showing her how to fuck and give good blowjobs. If she resisted, which she no doubt would, he was to beat her until she relented. And if that didn’t work, he was to let her starve for a few days. Whatever it took, he had told him. That was the only way to break a whore in right.

  Viktor had never married since most women were appalled by his looks and enormous girth. To the few women who had been willing to spend time with him, besides the occasional whore, he had shown respect and never once been abusive. But once Natasha entered the scene, all of that changed.

  Besides being incredibly stupid, she refused to have sex with him. The first day he had made advances, she pushed him away. At first he thought it was humorous in a way, but once he realized that she wasn’t simply teasing him and had no intentions whatsoever of having sex with him, he started getting angry. After ten minutes of getting nowhere, he slapped her for the first time. She had stared speechlessly at him, stunned at first, then with a hurt feeling. He tried to reason with her, telling her that he wouldn’t hit her again if she would just let him touch her. She still refused.

  So he beat the mortal shit out of her.

  She looked like a car crash victim by the time he finally mounted her that first day. And when he did, she didn’t move—just laid there like a corpse. So he hit her some more and told her that if she didn’t start participating, he would kill her.

  She finally gave in.

  Viktor gave her a couple of days to heal while she remained locked alone in the smaller room above the bar. He had warned her not to scream or make any sounds while the bar was open or she would regret it. She had been quiet as a lamb.

  The next time he tried to have sex with her she was more compliant. She tried to do everything he told her to do but he could tell that she was still sore from the beatings. So he took it easy with her for a while and forced her give him blowjobs in the meantime. Then once she was fairly healed, he resumed breaking her in until she became very good at it.

  Two weeks later he started pimping at the bar. He was very cautious at first, careful not to let anyone know of Natasha’s existence. The first john he lined up for her was in fact one of the regulars at the bar who was also a good friend of his. He sent the man up to the room for a freebie with Natasha. Fifteen minutes his friend came downstairs and told Viktor that she wouldn’t let him screw her. Embarrassed and livid, he marched upstairs in a tirade and beat her within an inch of her life. Then he went back down to the bar, took his friend upstairs and they both proceeded to rape her.

  Things started looking up after that night and profits at the pub began improving dramatically thanks to Natasha’s services. He had devised his covert line of conversation for prospective johns wanting some action with Natasha to follow to minimize the risk of being busted by undercover cops. It is ironic that not long after he added Natasha to the mix, he was in fact paid a visit at the pub by a pair of Queensboro’s finest, who had heard on the streets that there was a prostitute working on the premises. Fortunately for him, these cops were already on the take from a neighborhood bar owner Viktor knew who conducted some major after hours gambling in his back room. Viktor knew that their silence could be bought for a fair price and they were more than happy to get the perks he offered them any time they wanted it.

  Natasha lasted almost a year before she became too ill to work. She had some kind of neuromuscular disease that rendered her partially paralyzed so Viktor asked Yuri what he should do. Yuri sent Mick the exterminator over and that was the last he’d seen of Natasha.

  Not long after Natasha’s departure, Yuri offered Elena to Viktor. She had been his live-in sex slave for several months and Yuri had grown to despise the young woman. He offered her to Viktor for a
mere five hundred dollars to replace Natasha. He told Viktor to do with her as he pleased, that he wished for her the worst experience possible. If he didn’t accept her, he would have her “disappear,” which he didn’t really want to do. Viktor of course accepted the beautiful woman with open arms.

  It didn’t take long for him to realize why Yuri disliked the girl so much. Like Natasha, she was totally unwilling to be his whore in the beginning. So he had to break her in, too. He beat and raped her for two weeks until she finally gave in to his demands. All this time, Yuri encouraged him to show her who was boss and to “make her bleed.” Viktor still couldn’t believe that one person could hold that much hatred for a woman of such stunning beauty.

  Staring absently at one of the monitor screens, a thought suddenly came to Viktor: the night before when he caught Elena and the john talking instead of screwing. That guy who had been with her past the time limit—

  That man matched the description Yuri had given him—

  And the incident was what he would consider suspicious.

  Viktor pulled off the headset, picked up his cell phone and called the pub.

  “Tommy, I need to ask you something. Do you recall any suspicious activity from any of the customers this past week? I’m especially interested in a white guy, thirty or so, six-foot and medium build. Any newbies matching that description hanging around or asking questions?”

  Viktor’s partner at Stokley’s thought a moment before his reply. “You know, there was a guy fitting that description poking around yesterday afternoon. Wasn’t looking for any action but behaved kind of strange. He played the jukebox and the pinball machine. Asked for change a couple of times then out of the blue handed me his business card. Wanted to know if we’d be interested in getting some new games for the bar. I gave him the card back and said no thanks. He didn’t push it but I’d been chatting with Mike and he thought the guy seemed like he could be a cop. I’m not sure I agree, but the dude was acting sort of suspicious.”

  “How long did he stay in total?” Viktor asked.

  “I’d say about half an hour – long enough to play a little pinball and drink a beer. Then he left. Never saw him again.”

  “Did he speak to anyone else besides you?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Came in alone, hung out then left alone.”

  “Okay, Tommy. That’s all I need.”

  “What’s up Vik? Something going down?”

  “No, I was just curious. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Sure. When do you think you’ll be relieving me?”

  “Around seven-thirty or so.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  Viktor disconnected. The guy that was with Elena the night before could well have been the same guy Tommy had seen earlier in the day. If that were the case, what in the holy fuck had he been doing?

  Elena had some explaining to do. He would pay her a visit the moment he arrived at the bar this evening.

  Viktor watched the monitor as Jim Foster slipped into one of the rooms with four of the girls, including Babs.