“Really? You had about twenty thousand left after we charged your contract fee. Must have been quite a three-day party.”
“No…I didn’t have a party at all. I bought a gold and diamond necklace for Sandy, at a fancy jewelry store on Rodeo. It’s gonna be delivered tomorrow.”
“Sandy? The prom queen? The one who told all of social media she’d rather have sex with an orangutan than five minutes of conversation with you? The one you’ve been chasing for two years who won’t give you the time of day?”
“Yeah…well, I thought maybe it would make her feel guilty, you know, when she finds out I’m gone.”
I’d have sent her a gift certificate for a Ferry Ride, with a note asking her to do the world a favor and use it, Lisa thought.
“You know…nobody’s going to know you came here, unless you’ve told someone already.”
“I sent a letter to my parents—snail mail, so they won’t get it until tomorrow. I also put a gift card in the necklace box with a note for Sandy.”
Lisa gave him a stern look. “You’re hopeless, Merkle. Here…imprint the contract.”
She pushed the document across the desk, and he obeyed without question. She checked to make sure the imprint was good, then stood up and peeled off her suit jacket.
“Over there…” she waved at the long sofa by the office wall. “Take your pants off.”
After delivering Jimmy to Lisa’s office, Mark had gone to the x-room balcony to make sure everything was set up. He checked the rope for correct length, based on Jimmy’s height. The basic rule was that the client’s feet should end up between 12 and 24 inches off the floor. They tested the system periodically with weighted bags to make sure it was working properly.
Then he went downstairs to prepare the drop zone. He’d just rolled the gurney out and positioned it to the side when his pad chimed with a message from Lisa.
Ten minutes. Giving the kid a freebie.
He chuckled at that. Lisa hadn’t complained about the freebie he’d given Vanessa because she often did it herself. She was a sucker for socially challenged teenage boys and would go out of her way to put a last smile on their faces—despite which, it didn’t bother her in the slightest to terminate them a few minutes later.
Lisa’s 10-minute estimate was right on the money, and Mark was watching when Merkle dropped in from the floor above. He hadn’t been watching the screens—he had no interest in Lisa’s adventures with anyone other than himself—so he was surprised when she slid down the pole completely nude.
“Didn’t want to keep him waiting while I dressed.” She shrugged in answer to his leering smile. “Besides, it kept him distracted. He was still staring at me when I hit the button.”
“Another benefit of being the only people in the building,” he replied, continuing to admire her lovely form. “I’m sure you noticed I locked everything down before leaving the front desk.”
“Hmmm…looks like Jimmy got off one more time,” she said, pointing to the obvious physical sign exhibited by the dangling corpse. “He wasn’t that way after I got done with him upstairs. I mean, he was still enjoying the view, but I was sure I took all the starch out of his pecker.
“Actually—” she walked over to examine the protruding member more closely, “—he’s pretty well endowed. His prom queen will never know what a good thing she missed out on.”
Chapter Sixteen
Two on One
This is awful! Lisa thought.
A few hours ago, she would have scoffed at the idea that having sex with two women wouldn’t be fun. Now, however…
“Aaaagh!” She tried to stifle the cry of pain as Moreno pushed into her. Lisa’s hands were tangled in Moreno’s hair, trying to force the other woman away. The music system assaulted her ears with heavy metal, Led Zeppelin’s Dazed and Confused.
“Flip Blondie over,” Moreno demanded, withdrawing her fist and rolling onto her back. “My pussy needs attention again.”
Langsdorf got to her knees and dragged Lisa up to a sitting position.
“C’mon, bitch…you’ve got work to do.” She dragged Lisa forward on top of Moreno and pushed Lisa’s face down into Moreno’s crotch. Lisa tried to push herself up, but Langsdorf straddled her.
“Do it, Blondie,” she declared. Bending forward, she pressed Lisa’s head down harder.
She had a brief, dim flash of insight into Vanessa’s lack of response to Mark. Can’t enjoy sex unless you actually want it. She’d never before been put in a position where she didn’t want it, but now she understood. Unfortunately for her, they didn’t care.
Mark, she thought. Stay out there…She knew he was nearby, watching on the screens, and it was probably killing him not to intervene. They’d agreed on a trigger word—“Harley”—and she could use it anytime, but she’d insisted he stay out of it unless she did. I have to do it myself. I set up this party, now I’ve got to see it through.
The bikers had arrived on schedule, delivered by a jacked-up pickup truck that bore the logo of a local motorcycle dealer. They’d come through the door with the same attitude they’d shown at the first meeting, teasing Mark at the front desk with another flash of Moreno’s tits, then they’d gone to Lisa’s office, where they’d imprinted the contract without question. Their cheerful banter on the way to the party venue in the x-room had given Lisa no premonition of the ordeal that was to come.
It started quietly enough, with a glass of wine. Then they’d literally ripped her clothes off, thrown her down on the mattress, and gone at her. They’d done oral on her—which she might have enjoyed, except for the painful position into which they’d twisted her arms to hold her in place. Then they’d forced her to do the same for them. They’d beaten her hard enough to leave bruises on her body, though they were careful not to damage her face. They’d planted hickeys—and a few bite marks—on her breasts and buttocks, and they’d spanked her to the point where it was painful to sit.
Langsdorf rolled off the top, dragging Lisa with her. Lisa found herself on her back, spread-eagled, as the two women crawled up next to her, Langsdorf on her right, Moreno on the left.
“You’re fun to play with, Blondie-bitch,” Moreno said, “and you taste good all over.” She grabbed Lisa’s left breast and squeezed as she tried to stuff as much of it as possible into her mouth. Lisa gasped as Langsdorf did the same with her right breast.
“You’re not in your office now, bitch,” she said. “You’re in our world. We don’t really want to hurt you, but we like to play rough.”
Jerking Lisa’s head back, she put her lips to Lisa’s neck and sucked hard.
That’s gonna leave another mark…vampire hickey for sure.
“I need to piss,” Langsdorf declared, breaking away and rolling to her knees. “Too much wine…my bladder’s about to let go.”
Since the party started, they’d taken frequent breaks for refreshment—mostly wine, though they’d also eaten most of the snacks. Lest Lisa think she was getting a rest, they forced her to match them, glass for glass. Normally, her tolerance for alcohol was low, but the adrenaline of what they’d been doing had kept her alert and coherent.
“Good!” Moreno declared. “I need a shower, so have at it.” She stretched out on her back on the mattress. “Don’t forget my tits,” she added, cupping her hands under them.
“How about you, Blondie?” Langsdorf inquired, getting to her feet. “You want to piss or be pissed on?”
“Piss…” Lisa mumbled. “Don’t know if I can get up…just let me lay here and piss myself.”
“Get up, Blondie.” Langsdorf grinned at her, grabbing her by the hair again. “Pepper’s got big tits—might take both of us to wash them off.” She pulled Lisa to her feet and walked her over to stand over Moreno.
Lisa discovered that she really did have to pee. She felt relief in her belly as she poured it down onto Moreno. I’d probably call it payback if she wasn’t enjoying it so much. Moreno whooped with pleasure at the golden shower.
“Could I have a little break?” Lisa pleaded. “Just let me sit for a minute…catch my breath.” She waved a hand toward the chairs next to the mattress.
“Yeah, I guess you can do that.” Moreno gave her a crooked grin. “You done good so far, Blondie. Most girls we play with would be screaming for mercy by now. But don’t stay away too long…don’t make us drag you back here. “
She turned back to Langsdorf with a hungry look. “Shall we get down to it?”
Langsdorf returned the hungry look as she pushed Moreno down onto the mattress. They squirmed around for a few seconds, ending up in the classic “69” position, with Langsdorf on top. Soon they were oblivious to anything but each other.
The sound system produced the opening guitar riffs of Hotel California as Lisa stepped off the mattress. Perfect…she thought, as she stood watching them.
She picked up a half-full wine glass from the table. She didn’t know whose it was and didn’t care as she drained it. She watched them for a moment, then turned and walked to the sideboard where the wine bottles stood. Reaching under the shelf, she found the buttons, pressing them in the special code sequence. The compartment opened, and the Glock 17 dropped into her hand.
Holding the pistol down behind her thigh, she walked back and stepped up onto the mattress. The two women paid no attention to her arrival.
“Now you’re in my world, bitches,” she told them, “and I don’t play rough. I play for keeps.”
Taking careful aim, she shot Langsdorf in the middle of the back, just below the shoulder blades. Turning, she put a second shot in the small of the woman’s back, a few inches above the tailbone.
She had placed the first two shots with care. The 9mm pistol was loaded with full-jacketed +P “hardball” ammo—designed for penetration rather than expansion. The first one shattered Langsdorf’s spine before tearing through her heart, then emerged between her breasts to punch through Moreno’s belly, before finally stopping against the steel plate under the mattress.
The second shot passed through Langsdorf’s lower back and belly, punching dead center into Moreno’s chest, tearing through her heart before emerging from her back.
The two shots were undoubtedly fatal, but Lisa took no chances. She kept firing, pumping bullet after bullet into the two bodies, which twitched and quivered with each impact.
She avoided shooting them in the head, arms, or legs. She looked at Moreno’s upturned face, eyes wide with shock. She couldn’t see Langsdorf’s face, but she imagined it wore a similar expression.
The gun finally clicked empty, and its slide locked open after the last shot. She’d scattered the eighteen rounds all over their torsos, leaving them bleeding from seventy-two entry and exit wounds, as well as every bodily orifice.
She stepped off the mattress, put the empty gun down on the table, and stood back to admire her handiwork. Not gonna use that mattress again, she decided. Doesn’t matter…Mattresses were considered expendable at the Ferry. They kept replacements on hand for such things.
She walked back onto the mattress, knelt, and grabbed Langsdorf’s hair, lifting her head from between Moreno’s bloody thighs. The dead woman’s blue eyes stared out of a mask of blood. Payback’s a bitch…she thought. She let Langsdorf’s head fall back between Moreno’s legs.
She got to her feet, then sat down on top of the stacked bodies, lowering her aching rear onto the small of Langsdorf’s back.
Suddenly she let out a sob and burst into tears. She didn’t know why she was crying, but she couldn’t stop. She was still sitting there, her head bowed, tears dripping into her lap when Mark came into the room. He scrambled onto the mattress and gathered her into his arms, oblivious to the bloody mess that stained his shirt and pants as he did so. He carried her off the mattress and put her down in a lounge chair.
He was afraid to touch her, afraid that anything he did might cause her to shatter like a porcelain doll. He knelt by the chair, gently stroking her hair, letting her cry it out.
Finally, the tears stopped. She drew a deep breath and looked at him with a sad smile, seeing the concern on his face. She reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m OK…” she assured him. “It was…rough, but I did it. It’s done.”
She tried to get up, but her legs failed her, and she fell back on the lounge chair.
“Don’t get up…just stay there,” he told her. “Are you hurt? I mean, anything that needs medical attention?”
“No…I’m really tired, sore, a few bruises, nothing serious. I could use another glass of wine, though.”
He brought her a full glass and set the bottle on the table next to the lounge. “You just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.” He looked at the slaughtered bodies on the mattress.
“I’ll just dump them in the tank,” he said. “Party’s over…need to take care of you, get you upstairs, and put you to bed. Then I’ll come back down and clean up the rest.”
“No,” she told him. “I can wait. Don’t want you to have to come back down. Let’s just get it cleaned up.”
She started to get up, but he stopped her.
“Stay here. Drink wine. Rest. I can do the cleanup…no big deal. I don’t want you to move from that chair.”
“Yes, dear…” she said meekly. She picked up the wine glass and drained it in a series of gulps, then lay back in the chair.
Chapter Seventeen
T.L.C.
Despite the carnage, it didn’t take long. Most of the mess was confined to the mattress. He dumped the bullet-riddled bodies down the chute into the brine tank, then gathered up the bedding and tossed it into the incinerator chute—too far gone to salvage. Lisa’s clothing went into one bag, the bikers’ outfits into another, then both went down the laundry chute.
He put the mattress on a cart and rolled it into the storage room by the freight elevator. It would need to be cut up and would also end up in the incinerator. The bed frame and other furniture went into the storage room. He retracted the curtains that provided privacy for the party area.
He gathered up the party trash. Dishes and utensils went into the service room sink—he would deal with them tomorrow. The empty gun went into the safe in the service room. He would return it to the armory tomorrow and clean it before putting it away.
When he came out of the service room, Lisa was curled up in the fetal position on the lounge, sound asleep or passed-out drunk—unconscious, in any case. The wine bottle was nearly empty.
He had turned down the volume on the sound system but hadn’t switched it off. Another classic Eagles track, Heartache Tonight was just starting. He didn’t bother to turn it off; it would shut down automatically in another hour or so.
He looked around. Except for the lounge chair Lisa occupied, nothing remained of the setting they had so carefully staged. The chair could stay for now—he would need to clean its cushions tomorrow anyway. Lisa had gotten the bikers’ blood on it, spilled some wine, and…he shook his head sadly as he noticed the little puddle of urine under her curled-up hips. You’ve had a rough night, my love…
He went to the floorbot docking station and activated the clean-up program. The machine went to work immediately, starting at the far end of the x-room. Overnight, it would do the whole room.
Job’s done for tonight. The lights for the party had been subdued, but he’d brought them all back up when he’d come into the room. Now he turned everything off, leaving only the safety lighting, just enough to navigate the room without tripping over anything.
He gathered Lisa up in his arms and headed for the door, smiling as the a cappella opening of Seven Bridges Road surrounded him. It was one of Lisa’s favorites, and he hoped it was the harbinger of a better day tomorrow.
Mark carried Lisa up to her own apartment, figuring it would be b
etter if she woke up in the comfort of home. He carried her into the master bedroom’s bath, home to a shower of a scale that matched her bed—probably enough room for a dozen people to shower simultaneously, if they were reasonably friendly.
He set her down on the contoured bench along one wall, carefully laying her down. The shower controls were complicated, driving a dozen shower heads that could produce anything from a simple hand-held water-jet massage, to a downpour that would put a tropical rain forest to shame.
Mark selected full monsoon mode, took a bottle of Lisa’s favorite body wash, and went to work on her. He gently washed her body, being careful not to press too hard where he found marks or bruises.
He found a bottle of shampoo and did her hair, careful to keep the stuff out of her eyes. He was no expert on feminine hygiene, but the disposable douche he found in the vanity drawer had instructions on the dispenser, and he managed to get that done as well. The process brought a moan that was pain, not pleasure, and he cursed the two bikers for their brutality. They’re dog food…he promised.
Finally done, having showered himself and dried both of them off, he picked Lisa up and carried her to bed. Building a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the huge mattress, he crawled in with her and eased her into the spoon position. She moaned again as she instinctively wriggled into it, but she didn’t come fully awake.
“Lights out,” he ordered, and the bedroom obeyed, fading to darkness broken only by the dim glow of the night lights low on the walls. He wrapped his arms around her, and within minutes, they were both asleep.
“Mark?”
“Mmmm?” He opened his eyes to find hints of daylight filtering around the edges of the drapes that covered her bedroom windows. Lisa was still in his arms but had managed to get herself turned around facing him, her head against his chest.
The Ferryman Page 12
