The Good, the Bad, and Jack Brodie

Night was draped over London like a sheet over a naked body. The warmth of the day gone by still lingered and made for uncomfortable sleeping. Not that it mattered to Jack Brodie. He never slept anyway. Besides, the heat made his midnight walk very pleasant indeed.

Stealing quietly out of his Mayfair flat, he kept a close eye out for deranged autograph hunters and paparazzi. Jack was the star of the remake of Death Wish and since its release, he hadn't had a moment's rest. Day by day, he struggled against the relentless tirade of ringing telephones and couldn't go outside by day for fear of the rabble. In a way, Jack was the victim of his own success.

This was what the midnight walks were about. By night, paparazzo was in bed and Jack was free to leave his apartment. Trudging past a still open off license, he looked at his tired, bespectacled reflection in the glass of the shop front and sighed. Jack was a popular and respected actor before Death Wish had come along, but that had catapulted him to superstardom. Offers for big parts started rolling in. Agents in LA called him at all hours of the day and night, often forgetting about the nine hour time difference. It got to the stage where he couldn't sleep undisturbed. He was a prisoner in his own apartment.

At night, Jack roamed the city taking in and relishing the dark alleys, quiet streets and deserted squares of his home city. He'd do some shopping in the late opening shops and then go home around three in the morning before maybe catching an hour or two of sleep. Then again, maybe not.

Tonight though was different. Since before Death Wish, Jack hadn't had a woman in his life. Being a recluse made it difficult to go out and socialise. It was tonight that he decided to go out and seek the some company. He would pay if he had to. Where better to go than old Soho?

Again, looking at his reflection in the windows of the rows of parked Vauxhalls and BMWs he thought about how old he looked. He was only twenty six, but it was his chiselled jaw and wisp of short black hair, covering part of his forehead that made him such an attractive star. In addition to being an immensely talented actor, Brodie was known throughout the world for his masculine good looks. Cynics said it was those looks alone rather than talent that made him a star.

Lovers held hands across a table in one of the fashionable late opening cafés. Jack smiled sadly as he glanced in the window, the couple oblivious to his presence. They were both entranced by each other and Jack wondered if he would ever feel the love that they felt for each other. Bouncers stood like sentinels at nightclub doors. Outside one club, Jack looked on in disgust as a young woman vomited on the pavement while pounding dance music emanated from inside where the coke addled partygoers danced the night away. He wished he could be normal like all those other people enjoying themselves. As much as he wanted to, Jack couldn't go in and he kept walking.

As the music was going out of earshot and the streets began to darken, Jack spied two ladies standing on a street corner. They spotted him too. He looked around for an occupied car nearby. There wasn't one. These girls weren't undercover cops. They were the real deal. If they were cops, there'd be an unmarked police car nearby with a plainclothes male officer inside ready to pounce on the unsuspecting customer. In fact, Jack had played a vice cop in one of his pictures so he knew the tricks of the trade.

As he approached the girls, he took them both in- one was blonde, the other, a smouldering brunette. Both wore typical hooker gear- tiny tank tops, short skirts and fishnet clad legs. Two things were unusual though; the blonde wore a collar attached to a leash held by the brunette. A bullwhip hung from the belt around the brunette's waist. They both looked relaxed.

"All right sunshine?" called the brunette, "You're looking lonely; like you could do with some company." Jack didn't speak until he was up close to them. The diamonds in both their navels glinted under the light of a streetlamp.

"As a matter of fact, I am. How would you ladies like to show me a good time?"

"We'd love to. Hey, do I know you from somewhere?" Jack smiled.

"I'd doubt it." The blonde sidled up to him and reaching up to his face, she removed his thick, black framed glasses and looked into his steely blue eyes. She turned to the brunette. Jack noticed the large crucifix tattoo on her back. He wondered what it meant to her. Was she religious? Had she once been? Why did she chose this life? Did she choose it or was it forced upon her?

"This is Jack Brodie. I'd know those eyes anywhere." she told the brunette.

"The actor?"

"That's me. Now seeing as you both know my name, how about telling me yours?" The brunette spoke.

"I'm Cindy and this is Lola. She's my bitch."

"Is that so? Well Cindy, well Lola, I want you to show me the night of my life."

"For you, anything. It'd be our pleasure. Lola, blindfold!" Lola produced a strip of cloth from her handbag and tied it around Jack's eyes. For the next while, everything would be black.

"What? What are you doing?"

"Trust us honey, we're professionals." Jack felt his arms being pulled behind his back and heard the unmistakeable click of handcuffs.

"Okay, we've got a little walk to get to the place we use when we want a little privacy. I'm sure you don't want this all over the front page of The Sun now, do you?"

They walked a short distance. Blindfolded, Jack's only guide was the pair of hands on his shoulders. In a matter of minutes, Jack felt himself being guided out of the night air and into some kind of indoor setting. But he had no idea where it was.

He was guided through a building and into a room. One of the hookers removed his handcuffs. They began to take off his clothes and pretty soon, he felt their hands rubbing all over his body. Cindy guided him backwards so that he lay on a table and he fervently wondered what these minxes were about to do next. Jack never thought that he could have been in any danger. After all, wasn't he the man that took down New York's underworld single-handedly? That had only been in a film, but what was the worst that could happen he thought as he felt leather straps tightening around his ankles. He reckoned it was going to be a pretty kinky night.

Suddenly, he heard a creaking noise and felt his legs being jerked upwards until his back was lifted from the table and only his head remained on its mahogany surface. Soon, he was completely free of the table and suspended upside-down in mid air by the ankles. It was only then did he hear the ladies speak again.

"Is he too high for you Lola?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, I'll let him down a bit." At this point, Jack was curious.

"Hey, eh, you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Sure. We've lured you into an elaborate trap and now you're our prisoner."

"Oh, well that sounds lovely, but what happened to Lola being your bitch?"

"I told you, it was an elaborate trap."

"Well why me? Is it because I'm famous?"

"Don't flatter yourself sunshine. You were just the first trick to come along. Besides, I fucking hate your films. All bullshit remakes. There's only one Paul Kersey and that isn't you."

"So, you're a Bronson fan?"

"You might say that." For the first time since the pickup, Lola spoke.

"I like your films."

"Really? You must be the one with taste. Say, you want my autograph?"

"I'd love it."

"I'll give it to you if you let me down." Lola's hands cradled his upside-down face.

"Sorry baby, that's not going to happen for a little while." Jack felt himself being suddenly dropped. He didn't hit the floor and still dangled in mid air.

"Ok, he low enough for you now?"

"Uh huh."

"Ok then, shall we begin?" asked Cindy.

"Wait, I just have to take my clothes off."

"Oh for fuck sake. You should've been doing that when I was tying him up."

"Yeah well, I was busy watching you, wasn't I?" Jack heard the rustling of clothes as his arms were pulled behind his back again and cuffed.

"Ok, you ready now Lola?"

"I'm ready."

"All right ramblers, lets get rambling!"

"Pulp Fiction." said Jack.

"Very good! So you have seen some good films." Lola stood, legs apart and manoeuvred Jack's head so that he was face up in her pussy.

"I'm Lola by the way. You probably know how to do this. Just do like you did to Candy Keats in Shagged."

"Oh, so you've seen my early work too? I can't say I'm too proud of that."

"I have your head in position in case you didn't know, so just do the business with your tongue."

"Ah! I was thinking this smelt familiar. So, if I'm being a very cunning linguist with you, what's Sadie doing?" Jack tensed as Cindy cracked her whip across his back.

"It's Cindy, you dumb fuck!" She swung the whip again.

"Ah, Christ! All right, all right it's Cindy. But don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"

"I was going to do this anyway, but you gave me the perfect excuse."

"All right, but what was the second one for?"

"That was for much of your early porno work. Actually, that was just for Shagged."

"So we still have Fucked, Boned, Bonked and Ridden to go?"

"Uh huh."

"I knew I was in for a wild night."

"Hey, less talk more tongue." said Lola.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am." The whip cracked again.

"Owww! Was that for Fucked?"

"No, that was for being a cheeky bastard. Now shut up and let you tongue do the talking." Jack thrust his tongue upwards. He gently caressed Lola's moistening pussy, swirling and probing with his tongue- very much an instrument of sexual satisfaction. All the while his back was being lashed. For each crack of the whip, Cindy called out the name of one of Jack's films.

Jack started to feel his nose getting wet. Lola's breathing began to quicken.

"Hey, am I doing good?" Lola grabbed his hair in her hand and pulled it.

"DON'T TALK!" Jack rolled his tongue around her rock hard clit and massaged it. Cindy drew pleasure from every stroke of the whip. He put up with it and soon forgot his pain.

Moaning, she clenched his hair in her hand and screamed in joy, juices dripping down Jack's cheeks.

"Keep going!" He felt Lola's body quiver, her thighs brushing against his ears and cheeks. Lola came twice. After the second time, she let Jack go and he swung from his ankles. With one last swing of the whip, Cindy stopped too.

"You finished Lola?"

"Uh huh."

"Ok, well you get dressed and I'll let this guy go." Cindy cranked the lever and raised Jack to table height again. She unlocked the handcuffs and manhandled him into position before lowering him onto the table. When his blindfold was removed, Jack blinked and held his hand to his eyes with the light.

For the first time, he saw the room- a dimly lit but vaguely sumptuous lounge with armchairs surrounding the table and beams on the ceiling. From the beams dangled a rope attached to a pulley on the wall. They hadn't unstrapped Jack's ankles. Lola appeared at the foot of the table, now dressed and smiling, with Jack's wallet in her hand.

"Where did you get that?"

"It was in your pocket. Let's see what's inside." Lola opened the wallet and took out a wad of cash.

"So, how much was tonight worth to you? Fifty, a hundred, two hundred?"

"Nothing yet, it seems you should be paying me for the best eat out you've ever had."

"Yeah, it was pretty good. Ok, tell you what…" Lola vaulted onto the table and sat, legs astride Jack, facing him. "What to do, what to do. I know!" Lola grabbed his semi hard cock in her hand and started jerking him off. All Jack had to do was watch her. He felt a rumbling in the pit of his stomach and he knew he was about to shoot. Lola's hand worked quicker and quicker and soon his face was grimacing in joy. And then she stopped.

"DON'T STOP!" cried Jack. But it was too late. He had gone past the point of no return. Cum dribbled into the air and Jack moaned, but only with disappointment at his ruined and utterly unsatisfactory orgasm.

Lola swung off him.

"That was well worth this three hundred quid I'm sure."

"What? No!"

"Too bad. But don't worry, we do have another surprise for you. Cindy, untie him will you?" Cindy unbuckled his ankles and handed him his clothes.

"Put these on."

"Can't I clean myself up?"

"Er, no." Jack hastily put on his clothes, expectant about what might be in store for him. He stood up but his arms were pulled behind his back and cuffed again.

"Jack Brodie, I'm arresting you on the charge of soliciting a prostitute. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

"What? You're joking right?"

"No, we're both PC's. Vice cops Jack. You should have seen it coming. You're fucking nicked sunshine."

"But I was blindfolded. Where was the officer waiting nearby?"

"That was me." said Lola, "But I decided that this was more fun than sitting in the car listening to the scanner."

"Can I see some ID?"

"Sure." Cindy produced her badge and showed it to him. To his surprise, that was her real name.

"What about the whipping and the eating out?"

"We were just having a little bit of fun with you."

"I want to make an official complaint."

"Let me make this clear. I know people in the nick. If you ever mention this again, I'll make sure you get so much cum pumped up your arse, you'll be crying jizz. Right, hop it." Cindy and Lola guided Jack out through the door into an alleyway. A grey Vauxhall was parked there. Lola bundled Jack in. Cindy drove away.

He never found out if Lola was her real name.