Maxine's New Life Ch. 08

I spent the time between calls with music on the radio and a mop in my hand. The floors in my cabin were all salvaged from an old mill I expected. The finish was some kind of varnish but no two boards matched. They had been removed carefully from someplace, then reinstalled hap hardly in the cabin. I didn't mind, there was a certain charm to it. I could also roll up the large area rug, obviously rescued from some junk heap, to clean under it. The throw rug kept the center of the floor from being unbearably cold, so it was a pretty good compromise.

If the cabin was mine I would trash that rug, and get a smaller fake oriental rug for the center of the floor, leaving more of the wood showing. Since I was only a caretaker, I left things as they were. Well I had bought a better bed, and the microwave.

After the cleaning I sat looking out the window. I could see the clouds but nothing else since the windows were so high. I would only have seen trees, even if they were at eye level. Since I was lost in thought, it didn't really matter that I couldn't see anything.

"Hello," I said to stop the terrible music on my cell phone.

"Okay the meet is on. Be at the Hazelwood at three this afternoon. Bring the dress. Marge want to see you in it. There is some woman there who can fix it or some such thing.." Anya said.

"Crap, I just realized that I don't have any shoes to wear with this dress."

"Well Cinderella, there is a mall you know. After you meet with Marge, go buy some."

"Hey bitch, you don't spend my money," I said angrily. "I'm not being your whore and paying for the privileged.

"Alright we will work out something. Just be at the meeting, so we can figure out what the hell is going on."

"Fair enough," I replied and hung up on her. Turnabout is fair play I thought.

The numbers on my new clock radio didn't seem to move at all, as I waited for the time to pass. Finally at 1PM I decided to go to lunch. I had no idea what the rest of the day would be, so I thought I should get at least one healthy meal in. I drove to the Midway mall even though it meant a trip out of town. The Midway, like it's name suggested, was half way between Aster and Tryon. I never shopped there because I'm not a clothes horse. That and the prices are ridiculous. The mall did have a couple of family style restaurants, even if they were chain things. One advertised itself as a family steak house. I didn't care for their steaks, but they had the best 50 item salad bar I had ever seen. For seven bucks I could make my own chef salad. Best of all they had a huge bowl provided by the cashier when you paid for your salad. The bowl seemed to be about the size of a vegetable serving bowl for a family of four.

I doubted that the salad I made could be called low cal, but everything in it was healthy. Well maybe not the country ham, but everything else was. Okay the dressing was probably filled with fat, but hey it was like a gift. It was the thought that counts, right?

I still found myself early for the meeting so I drove to the park near the Hazelwood to kill the time. Since the day was a little chilly to sit on a bench. I sat in my van. I saw the car when it drove into the parking space beside me. I had no idea who was in the mid sized compact until Bostic opened the door. She walked around and slipped in beside me.

"You know that you are not my best friend," she said to me.

"Ah hell, you mean we are not going to swap spit in the shower?"

"I never said that," she smiled at me. "It's just that you are not somebody I would want to go shopping with."

"Good, I can agree with that at least."

"The point is I want to warn you to watch out for yourself in there."

"You already told me there is no Calvary coming to save my ass from the indians."

"Not only that you have no immunity. If you get into something illegal, I can't help you. This is not a police operation."

"I always wondered what prison would be like," I asnwered.

"Just watch yourself at all times," Anya said.

"Now you listen to me, if I go down for this shit, you are going with me. If you can't save me. I doubt that you can save yourself. So do you still want me to walk in there."

"Yes, but I don't want you to kill anyone."

"Hell, I haven't kill anyone in months."

"Well try to keep it that way. Most anything else we can work with."

Bullshit, I thought. She would throw me to the wolves in a minute. The only thing I had going for me was a whole bunch of secretly made recordings. I hoped Jen, my lawyer friend, wouldn't need to use them. That kind of thing is only good once and who knew when I might need to blackmail Anya.

"I love that dress on you. Megs won't need to do a thing to it." Marge said.

"What about shoes?" I asked.

"Oh hell you won't need shoes. Well not real ones, you aren't going to be leaving the house in that. I have a closet filled with ballet slippers. We can find something that will do."

"So now it is time for you to come clean with me," I suggested. "Who are the guests and what is my part in the play?"

"Three Russian couples have rented the Inn for the night. From five until tomorrow afternoon, the Hazelwood is Moscow on the park."

"Couples huh, well that explains the need for bi sexual women."

"Who else is going to be entertaining these couples?" Anya asked.

"I recruited some girls and a young man from Tryon. They are all eighteen, but look fourteen." Marge informed us. "They aren't pros that was part of the contract.

"Do they know what they are getting into?" I asked.

"I told them, but who knows what they think."

"Let me tell you something, if any of them want to stop, then it stops. I'm not going to jail as part of a rape conspiracy."

"Don't worry Maxine, this isn't my first time at the dance," Marge said.

"I looked over to Anya who avoided my eyes." Oh shit, I thought. Party my ass, Marge is a fucking madam. The bed and breakfast is just a cover. I had wondered all along how a bed and breakfast in the middle of a dying mill town could be profitable. Marge with her social connections could arrange a discrete weekend for anyone. There had to be plenty of people in her social and business contacts that might need her services now and then. Recruiting fresh talent in an area with over 13% unemployment wouldn't be hard. It looked as though she had Anya in her pocket. No telling what changed hands. It could be money for favors, or favors for favors. There was a rumor, that the FBI ran a brothel in DC once upon a time.

"It is definitely going to be an interesting night," I said as the meeting ended.

31

Don't get me wrong, I don't think prostitution should be a crime. It should just be a business transaction governed by civil law. If a hooker steals your money, then maybe it's a crime. But just for selling her ass on the street, no I can't see it. To waste a couple of hours of a cop's time processing her, then the court's time to take her to trial, and even the cost of keeping her housed and fed for a month is just a waste of my money. Now that said, runaway kids turning tricks is a different thing. They need to be protected. Too many people are ready to take advantage of them.

All that ran through my head while I waited in the lounge. It was early enough so that Marge had a couple of pizzas delivered for the hired help. I was pretty sure the young hookers were in the house somewhere. The Hazelwood had enough rooms to hide a lot more than three hookers.

Several years after the Civil war one of the Aster clan, not a recognized member of the Astor family mind you, came to town. There were already a few empty woodworking plants around. Those had been used to make Confederate wagons and cannon carriages, when they were open. The Aster cousin, or whatever, bought them all for a pittance and began making furniture.

The poverty, after the failed war of independence, was grinding in the south. That being the case there was plenty of cheap labor. Lots of hardwood forests were available to be raped as well. So all the elements for a new industry were in place. All but the start up capital, which was supplied by Aster. He made a fortune in return.

The Aster family had a residence in New England, but the senior Aster needed to put in at least an appearance at the plants now and then, so he built a house in town. At that time travel was difficult, so he built it near the plants, but not so close that he had to actually be bothered by them. Thus his mini mansion was born in what later became downtown Aster.

Aster had a lot of kids, so the house had a lot of bedrooms. Some for the children, some for his extended family, and some for entertaining. Then there were the common rooms, which weren't all that common. I found myself in the lounge, which most likely was a parlor, when the Aster's occupied the house. The lounge, where I sat, could comfortable seat a dozen people. Two large sofas and half a dozen over stuffed leather chairs were spread around the room.

Marge was adamant that I not leave the room, since the Ruskies were in the building. So of course first chance I got I went exploring. Hazelwood was one big house. On the first floor were all common rooms, but there were also two more floors of bedrooms. There were at least six usable bedrooms on each floor. Marge had explained that after my first visit.

The house had been built after the advent of indoor plumbing, so it was filled with bathrooms. Most of them had quaint free standing showers rigged over claw foot tubs. Quite a hit with the guests I'm sure.

I was back in the room after exploring the bottom rooms, when the first of the other entertainers arrived. She walked in dressed as a little girl of about twelve. It was a little disconcerting, until I got a really close look at her. The little girl illusion was shattered by the hollow look around her eyes. The kid was a drug user for sure and likely in her late teens or early twenties. I could easily believe that Marge had found an eighteen year old hooker. It would have been simpler for her to make up the emaciated teen to look twelve.

Marge had managed to bleach most of my tan away. Even the tan lines were blended till they seemed to vanish. She promised me the bleaching treatment wouldn't do any real damage to my skin. I had my doubts but decided to play along anyway. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a middle aged woman almost ghostly in appearance. I definitely did not have a health glow, but it was Marge's illusion not mine.

We were joined a few minutes later by a young man, who was made up to look thirteen or fourteen. On closer inspection he had a few whiskers. Not a lot just a few on his upper lip. He could easily have been eighteen as Marge promised. It was almost seven, when the last of her entertainers arrived.

She looked to be about fourteen. She was dressed exactly like me. I mean she was an exact miniature version of me. But the most striking thing about her was that I recognized her. She was Jack the dog man's teenage daughter. When we spoke at the dog kennel, I had no idea I would ever see her again. Especially not under those circumstances.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked. "You look like me, only older."

"I'm going to call the cops and have your little ass in Juvie," I said to the shocked looking girl.

"Please don't do that," she begged. So far we had kept the discussion to a whisper held in one corner of the lounge.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I need this, and I don't want to go to jail."

"What do you mean you need this?"

"I need the money, and I need the sex. I'm not very attractive. I'm flat chested and straight as a stick. The boys my age want to screw me, but I'm gay. I have tried it with boys, but I don't like it, so I get teased badly."

"So you are out here selling your ass?" I asked.

"Yes, I get off on the kink. I also like that the money is good. Marge knows I only like to do women, so she uses me when it is girl/girl sex."

"Does Marge know how old you are?"

"No, she thinks I'm eighteen. Fake ID's are easy to get on line."

"How old are you really?" I asked.

"Seventeen, but I'm younger looking and acting," she replied

"I just bet you are," my reply dripped with sarcasm.

"Maxine please, I can't go to jail, it would kill my dad."

"Julie, I can not let you do this," I said.

"Ms. Stone just this one last time. Then I promise I will never do it again." She seemed truly terrified that her dad would find out.

"Let me think about it." I said. She did seem sincere in her promise to never do it again. I could also warn Marge, which should get her out of the Hazelwood anyway.. I decided what I needed to do was to tell Marge right then and get Julie out of the house immediately. Marge would just have to suffer with being one short for the evening.

When I opened the lounge door to go find Marge, what I found was a thug. He didn't even smile when he put his hand on my breast to pushed me back into the lounge. What the fuck? I asked myself.

"You said you had done this before?" I asked Julie.

"Yes three or four times," she answered.

"Are there usually guards?"

"Sometimes, but they never do anything. They just watch from the doorway. I think it is to make sure nothing happens to the guests."

"Well the one tonight is outside this door, to keep us in here," I informed her.

"Why would they do that, we never go anywhere."

"To make sure we don't wander around is all I can figure."

"So I am going to do this one more time then?" she asked.

"For now, we play along. If I find a way, I'm getting you out of here. But that guy looks serious about keeping us in line. If they find out I'm not a hooker, we could all get hurt, if not killed." My mind was racing. "For now we go along."

"Cool," she said as if it were a video game or something.

"Do what they say and keep your mouth shut." I warned her.

"I always do what they say." She smiled wickedly. She just didn't get how much danger she was in. Unfortunately I knew. If I made a scene, they might feel they needed to kill my skinny ass, and leave no witnesses. That was what Anya really was warning me about the whole time. She knew this wasn't just some Russian business men out to get laid, these were the really bad guys. If I lived through this weekend, I just might kill Anya.

I tried to think. What the hell could I do, the answer was simple nothing. I could play along and hope for a chance to save everyone, or I could go along and the bad guys would most likely leave on their own accord come Sunday morning. That seemed like the best coarse of action. Just go along and see how it played out, but be ready to go redneck at any minute.

I switched my thinking to trying to predict what the plan for us was. Judging from the dresses we wore, Julie and I were going to be part of a mother, daughter fantasy. Not something I had any experience with, but I had been told that it was a universal fantasy with middle-aged men, maybe with middle-aged women as well.

I was still trying to come up with a plan, when the guard on the door came in with a woman I had not previously met. The woman walked first to the girl dress like a child and handed her a pill and a bottle of water. The girl swallowed it eagerly. Then the woman went to each of the others finally ending in front of me.

"Take it," she said without any expression on her face at all.

"I don't do drugs," I replied.

"It is just to relax you, not make you high. Take it." That time she was very insistent and the guard seemed to be getting ready to slap the hell out of me. I could refuse and probably get my ass beat. Afterward nothing would have changed, so I took the pill.

The woman nodded, then walked away. After she left nothing much felt different for a while. It was several minutes later that my thinking got soft. There is no other way to explain it. It was just soft.

Julie, who had been keeping her distance from me, came to stand beside me. "Don't you just love these dresses?" she asked in a dreamy voices.

I tried to resist but said, "Yes they are quite sexy."

"If you just relax, this will be fun. I have always had a blast here. Margie promised this wold be the best party yet." She put her hand on me then added. "It already is."

Yes, I was drugged, and yes I had a certain amount of fear running through me, but her words and the touches of her hand were wrong I knew. "You shouldn't be doing that, so stop it."

The pill lady came back several minutes later. By that time I was seated in a big chair with Julie in my lap. She had leaned back against she pushed back against me.

"Is she ready?" the pill lady asked.

Before I could ask what she meant, Julie answered. "Oh yes, she is ready."

Pill lady crooked her finger and Julie stood and pulled me to my feet. I went willingly, once I knew what she wanted. I seemed to be in a fog, but unlike the first time with Margie's tea, I had not been drinking before hand. I was quite lucid, just not really myself.

Julie led me up the stairs to a bedroom on the second floor. Inside the room we found a man and woman. The woman was standing, when we walked into the room. She motioned me forward, so I took the steps required to stand before her.

"Present yourself," she demanded. I just stared at her, I had no idea what she meant.

"Take out your boobs Mom," Julie said to me. I was surprised that she would ask and shocked that she called me mom. Even though I knew that mom and daughter was the fantasy, I had no idea Julie was in on it. I had seen her as a victim, even when she was coming on to me in the lounge. I thought it was just the drug working on her like it was with me.

Julie was the one who unsnapped my halter top. She whispered in my ear, "Cup your breasts and hold them up for her to inspect."

I did as I was told. The woman said in her heavy Russian accent. "Small for a grown woman. You aren't much to look at, are you?"

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. Suddenly from out of nowhere she slapped me. I fought back the urge to kick her ass. Partly it was the drugs that dampened my desire, and partly it was good sense. I wanted to survive the evening. "Answer me, you American cunt."

"I'm not much to look at."

"You will address me as Ma'am or Mistress. My husband as Sir or Master, do you understand me cunt?"

"Yes Ma'am." I had played the game before, so I could handle it. I had even been slapped a few times. When I was turned on enough, I sometimes liked it. I hadn't been turned on at all, when the Russian bitch slapped me.

She opened her plain white blouse and then unhooked her front clasp bra. Her heavy breasts sprang out. They also drooped almost to her waist. She reached down and squeezed them together and lifted them. "Suck me whore." she demanded.

I bent my head and took one of her nipples into my mouth. I sucked it gently at first, then more demandingly. I felt her hand on my head pulling me tighter against her soft breast.

"Swallow it," she demanded. I tried to do as she asked. I opened my mouth as wide as possible and took as much of her breast inside as I could. I tried to swallow it and found the the nipple did indeed enter my throat. It was a new feeling for me. "Yes my little cunt." she said pulling my face away. "I think we are going to have fun together. Now come with me," she said leading me by the hand to a large overstuffed chair. The damn house was full of them. Why wouldn't it be, the owner made them in his plant no doubt. I had no idea where that thought came from, but it was the thing on my mind as she forced me to my knees between her spread legs.

There were no preliminaries at all. She simply forced my face against her pussy.

"Yes bitch, eat her pussy," I heard a male voice say. He also spoke with a heavy Russian accent. "How does the whore feel to you love?" he asked the woman.