Patty – Junior CIA Analyst

"That sounds risky. What if he finds the wire?"

"There is no risk. He is doing no business deals today. We are not after incriminating information. We simply want to learn more about his habits and build a psych profile."

"It still sounds risky."

"C'mon, don't you get excited about saving innocent girls out of the fangs of sex trafficking? In either case, Ros specifically insisted on you on the phone. So, there is nothing around it."

"Don't we need backup in case things go bad?"

"You are in a public place with lots of people. What could happen? The temple bar is a happening place today. You have to get dressed. Your mission clothes are in the top most black box."

Patty undid her seat belt to kneel on her seat. She reached back in between the front seats with her butt mooning the world ahead of the car. She got the clothes out. It was a shiny, smooth purple dress with three inch thick black bands at the bottom and top. On her chest, it fit over her boobs without straps. The feel of the fabric was so delicate. The little details of the zipper and stitching was special.

"That's a $1,000 dress," added Angela.

"Where do I change?"

"Right here!"

The large SUV gave Patty plenty of space to push her pelvis forward and sleep her pants down. She cradled her bare legs in front of her chest to pull down the pants. She felt the black leather upholstery slightly stick to her naked skin. Even though, the SUV was high and the doors were high, she clutched her arm around her bra, when she pulled off her top. Most pedestrians and cars were too low to see her breasts to let her doo her nekkid shengians. However, she felt shy.

With the dress on, her bra was sticking out from under the dress. "That won't work, you have to take the bra off!" Patty nodded and of course. She reached through the top of the dress to pull out her bra.

"I don't think I have enough boob to keep the dress up."

"Don't worry, it always seems scary. And, then it actually works. It's a vulnerable, yet exciting feeling."

Patty tested and pulled her dress down. It slipped effortlessly right to where she believed her nipple was. She gasped loudly and grabbed her boob to keep it covered.

"Oh, girly! There is tape in the coffer as well."

Patty turned back to the back seat, while carefully holding her dress up. She got the square clear double sided stickers. She place them right under the top of the dress to keep it in place.

Angela handed Patty an ear piece. This is how I can talk to you and record everything."

Evening darkness had fallen. Angela rolled that SUV into parking spot in the Bowery. The curbs were broken to pieces. The sidewalk was riveted with metal hatches into the basements of the businesses. That's how they accepted deliveries. Scantily, upscale dressed girls with small purposes strutted like bambis on high heels among the homeless people in rags rolling in discarded liquor bottles. Young guys in luxury cars blasted thumping music. A pack of big bouncers in suits kicked anything of the curb in front of the temple bar, including tourists that had followed the bad advice of the city guide.

Patty strutted onto the uneven pavement in her clubbing high heels. "You are seeing, Andre," Angela spoke through the ear piece. She felt fingered up by all the homeless, because of her vulnerability in the street. At the same time, she felt untouchable with the beautiful dress, it spoke of high status.

One of the bouncers leaned forward on the metal fence and faced Patty, "not today baby, we are full."

"But, it is only 8 PM!"

"Move along!" said the bouncer and looked away having lost interest.

Angela spoke on ear piece, "you are with Beautiful Company and Andre awaits you."

"I am with Beautiful Company and Andre awaits you... I mean me."

The bouncer spoke into a handset, "Got a package for Andre." A curly clear plastic tube curled behind the bouncer's ear. "Okay," and the bouncer stepped to the side.

The temple bar was a high class place. Everyone was dressed up. There were lots of different sections. There was a purple lit show case of bottles. There was a red lit booth. There were lots of black shadows for people to hide. The hair styles were beautifully done in expensive hair salons.

A big man seating at the bar waved Patty to come over. He was one of those men that were heavy set, not fat. His hands were big brawns with meaty fingers. His shirt had the three top buttons undone. Curly chest hair showed a big breast. He had a lot of fat, yet he surely could punch a man into pulp.

"Andre," and the man reached out his hand. The hand was three times her hand. "Cindy," answered Patty with her escort name. The hand scared her. The hand crushed her hand. At the same time, the pressure felt kind of good. She felt like an ornament on his hand. Her slender body felt like an ornament in general to the man with the big extra wide black pants.

"C'mon, a warmer welcome. I am paying you." Andre smiled with the excitement of a school boy, yet his body remained the strong stature of someone you don't want to mess with. Patty reached out her arms to lay them on his big shoulders. She felt like exploring a mountain. Her hug became only more graceful, because she seemed so warm. Her chest was pressed against the big man.

His big mass had pulled her forward. She was like a play toy in his strong arms and had to surrender to being pulled forward.

She could smell him. He smelled strongly musky, like a man who doesn't believe in deodorant and sweats half the day. She immediately judged him for it, yet it also immediately created an emotional connection between the two.

With the friendly charm of Santa, Andre held her in his embrace, smiled, and placed his index finger on his cheek. She gently kissed him on the cheek. She could taste the salt of his sweat on her lips. She could smell his liquor breath. So quickly, had the man taking over her senses and dominated the situation.

Her curiosity raised, she lingered for a moment to look into his deep blue eyes. She mentally marked the spots on his blue iris. She marked the strength that she felt looking into his face.

Andre laughed big. The deep vibrations of his voice touched her and made her laugh awkwardly like a little girl. She felt a little embarrassed. She slipped onto her bar stool. With him being so strong, she felt immediately like the prize, like the beautiful adored woman.

He ordered her a shot, "Today, is vodka day."

"Oh, I don't usually drink."

"C'mon let's have fun."

Angela spoke over the ear piece, "you have to drink two drinks to blend in. Get something to eat."

"Can we order some bar food."

"Jonny, get the girl your favorite sample."

The bartender nodded knowingly and made them feel completely taken care off with his body gesture without even having to look up.

Two vodka shots later and a sampler of onion rings, fries, and pickles, she felt giddy. She couldn't quite feel herself. She only every once in a while realized that she was on a bar stool, when she was about to fall off. She got herself at the last moment. Her arms were wildly gesticulating to some stupid high school story she told Andre.

She blossomed into her escort role and loved putting her hands on his shirt sleeve. She got enamored with feeling the big size of the man's body. She started touching his hands to feel is fingers. She loved the idea of herself of being a touchy girl for show. His big body intrigued her. She'd find a pretense to touch the curls of his hair, which had become oily from a lack of shampooing.

At one point, his big brawn reached for her right boob. Being tipsy and mindless, she reacted simply with craving touch and pushing his hand onto her boob. She let her head fall back in the enjoyment of a hand that so fully covered her boob. Andre laughed like he had been told the best joke. His eyes turned into little slits. His whole face got animated.

"Your dress slipped, dear. I am lifting it up."

Patty said, "oh." She didn't really have more of a reaction to it. Her mind was fogged from the liquor. One of the stickies had come undone. Andre, the gentleman, carefully reaffixed the sticky. His big hands could make nothing seem delicate. Patty sat quiet and wondering, what his big fingers would feel on her nipples, if they'd twist them. There are probably large, meaty, blocky, and so, so big.

After more conversation and drinking, Patty saw girl's dancing. The dance floor heated up. The crowd had filled the bar. The DJ was playing the biggest hits.

"Oh, let's dance, Andre."

"No dancing," said Andre firmly.

Patty laughed, got up, and pulled Andre's arm to the dance floor. He firmly grabbed her by the upper arm and shook her. Her whole body moved involuntarily like a rag doll. Her feet tripped. Yet, Andre was so strong that he kept Patty in the air hanging from her arm without even shifting his own weight. She laughed her tension of like it was funny.

"This is not funny. Stop."

Patty shot up sullen until Andre started talking again. The situation hat set the boundaries. Patty had no control over the situation. Andre made the decisions. Trying to reassert her strength, she tried to tease Andre sexually. She placed his brawn on her thigh. He squeezed her thigh softly. His soft squeeze embraced half her thigh and moved all her flesh. She felt instantly uncomfortable by the touch and tried to push his hand away. She couldn't move his hand a little bit, even though, she pushed with both hands.

"You look so cute, when you struggle."

In a sober state, Patty might have found it creepy. In her drunk state, she was simply drawn to the reaction. The reaction of strength only wanted her to be part of Andre even more. It was like a big wave surfer is drawn to the one hundred foot wave. The power draws in, even though, the surfer is fully aware that the surfer is helpless like an ant in a fire hose stream.

Angela crackled over the ear phone, "Hey, your paid time is over. You should leave now."

"Andre, it has been a lot of fun. However, the paid time is over. I have to leave now."

"Cindy, stay a little longer. We are having a good time. I will pay your agency extra."

Angela sternly said, "the bar is closing. My shift is over. I am going home with or without you."

"Andre, I really like you, but I must leave."

Patty got up. Andre like a French cavalier waved her to return to her seat, "look everyone is still having a good time. Just another half hour. I'll tell you a secret."

Angela firmly repeated, "if you stay, I am going."

Patty replied, "oh well, it better be a good secret."

Angela added, "good bye."

Patty asked, "so what's your secret?"

Andre waved her to wait and ordered another round of drinks. While the bartender worked the drinks, Patty started feeling tired. The whole night had passed her by. She was pretty drunk. Without thinking, she laid her forehead on Andre's arm, which was resting on the bar. She was ready to take a mini nap.

Andre's forearm was so large that it molded to her head. The arm hair felt coarse. She smelled the intimate scent of his skin. She got curious on his taste again. She gave him a few mini kisses on the arm to taste the salty, putrid skin. It wasn't elegant, yet it was very manly. Patty was docile like a lamb on the arms of Andre.

"Here is the secret," Patty raised her eye brows, while still resting her head on his forearm, "your surveillance car just left. You are all alone. The bar closed an hour ago. The people you see are my associates."

Patty believed that she must have misunderstood him. Her spy story must have bleached into something that was mumbled to her over the loud music. When everyone looked at her intently, like they new what was going on, Patty got a strange feeling that perhaps, she had really been made. She had to stick to her story, because she was being tricked into giving up her CIA cover.

Andre did not wait for her to realize what was going on. He grabbed her again by the forearm and half walked/half carried her to the back of the bar. Patty's feet tripled randomly left and right for the lack of focus in her drunken state and her high heels flipping to the left and right. Andre's heavy body remained completely unswayed by her stumbling.

"This is no way to treat a lady," she said out to the room in no way in particular and without intention.

When the heavy bar door shut behind them and he pushed her up the stairs in the unlit stair case, she realized in her drunken stupor that something was wrong. "No, I don't want to go there. Bring me back to the bar."

Two thirds up the stairs, Andre through a little tantrum. The constant tripping and swaying by Patty had gotten to him. He held her up straight, reached for her high heels and ripped them off her foot in a smooth movement. The straps ripped off the shoe like the were held in place by silly glue. Patty's face made an 'oh' and she mumbled 'wow.' From then, she was quiet, as she was led up the rest of the stairs barefoot.

They walked down a dimly lit hallway. The first door they passed was open. It was as shaggy room. The window was covered with fabric. A young girl in her twenties was sprawled on a bed with an iron board. Her face was puffy and sweaty like from a heroine high. Her hand was cuffed to the iron frame of the bed.

A thought of rape shot through Patty's mind. "Please, use a condom, when you fuck me." That had been her mother's advice to always were a condom and to politely ask the random rapist to use it. Andre ignored it. It seemed that Andre was used to dragging around young women, which terrified Patty only more.

The next open room had a night table lamp open. A hairy butt of a man was rusting forward. The man was standing next to the bed with his pants at knee height. Apparently, he was fucking one of the girls. She didn't moan in ecstasy like Sandy had. She was silently taking it.

Seeing the scene made Patty realize that she had entered the underbelly of international sex slave trafficking. Either her boss or her boss's boss had sold her out. One of them had set her up on the mission to make her disappear. Her life would probably end here after a slow, yet short period of slave life. The thoughts sobered up her mind.

The last room in the hallway was to be her room. There were no windows. Only a mattress and a pot lay on the floor. It dawned on her that the pot was for her to pee and defecate, as she was imprisoned in this room for her induction. The induction made be a long trip of heroin to make her addicted or violent sexual encounters that would make her pliable.

Andre let her sit on the floor and curl up her legs with the knees at her thigh. He looked at her observingly, "You know with your legs up like that, I can see your panties?" Patty reached under her butt to lift up the bottom of her dress over her panties. Andre laughed.

Andre took her by the wrist and pulled her in the middle of the room. Patty half struggled against the pull and half gave up to the overwhelming force and walked forward in a squat. Andre's hands moved her thigh's apart like she had no muscles at all. He could move her however he wanted. She didn't even feel her muscles giving resistance. They were that weak in comparison.

He toyed with her. He lifted her arms. She couldn't control her own body the least bit. "You said that you wanted to dance. Now, I am the puppeteer and make you dance. You should be happy." His hands groped her belly. She struggled with her whole body. And, he held her like her movements didn't matter at all.

After five minutes of enjoyment, he stood up and locked the door behind him. The slit under the door was the only light in the dark room. Patty hadn't been stripped naked or raped yet. She still had her skimpy dress on. Having the dress was in a way harder, because it made her fear getting stripped naked. Scenarios of her future played out in her mind. She considered her escape. She had no chance without tools to escape.

Another five minutes and the light under the door was cut as well. They were using sensory deprivation on her. She remembered her torture resistance training. What was the point? Everyone cracked eventually. If it took her a week instead of two days, she would be cracked anyway. Those bastards could keep her locked up for months. The only time pressure for them is to put her to work. Girls resisting might fetch even more money. So, they weren't even in a rush to break her.

She could hear the door opening. In the complete darkness it was impossible to tell who it was, how many there were, what they were holding in their hands. All she knew was that they were coming for her. She wouldn't even know where they would touch her or beat her.

A flash light flickered for a moment. An eerie face appeared like from a horror movie with the flash light held beneath the face. The night vision equipment made it even harder to recognize the person or even the gender. They were pretty technical with night vision equipment. Patty had expected to be roughed up with blunt instruments. Could this be a CIA trial mission? Was everyone a CIA agent?

"Patty, it's me, Sandy. I told you, I got your back."

"Sandy?!"

"I told you that I got your back. That uppity bitch was going to leave you stranded. I had a feeling."

"How are we getting out?"

"I cut the power supply. There are enough dark crannies in this dungeon to escape through the shadows."