What You Need

I stepped from the cab into the pouring rain. Holding my leather Bosca briefcase over my head, I cursed under my breath for leaving my umbrella at the office. I reached into my suit pocket and quickly withdrew a sum of cash from my wallet. I rapped on the window with my hand and the driver slowly rolled it down, just an inch. I pushed the money through the opening toward the driver. He grunted something and immediately rolled the window back up. With a whine, he put the car into gear. It shuttered and then began moving up the street. I watched as he drove away, the taillights gleaming in the dark, wet night, leaving me alone on the street corner.

As the taillights disappeared from view I let my eyes fall to the rain slick sidewalk. Trash flowed down the gutter along the side of it, a flyer for a band of some sort caught on a sprouting blade of grass. My eyes travelled up from the sidewalk to the building itself. Graffiti covered the exposed lower walls framing a grimy, glass door. Dim light shone weakly from the smoked glass of the door and between the rusted bars covering a small window set into the granite wall.

I looked up into the night sky. Even though rain pelted my eyes, making it hard to see, I could see more windows set into the hard stone building, some were lit, and some were not. A fire escape led from the top of the building in a zig zag pattern across the face and ended about 20 feet above my head. The whole building said, "go away."

I shook the cold rain from my hand and reached into my right hip pocket. I retrieved the business card and checked the address. "69 Lowry Street" it said in brazen, black letters. I looked up through the torrents of rain and there, written in plain, black numbers above the door was the number "69." I glanced at the street sign behind me. It was listing at an precarious angle but clearly read "Lowry St SW." This was the place.

I tucked the card between two of my fingers and absent-mindedly flicked at it with my thumb, looking at nothing. It'd been a stressful day, nothing had gone well; a major vendor had pulled out of a deal. I'd returned to my office after a particularly devastating conference call to find the card resting upon a small, expensive cream-colored card. The card read: "Find what you need." That was it. Nothing more. I threw both the cards into the trash and sat down.

As I worked at my PC, I found my thoughts drifting to the card. What did it mean? Who left it? What was it, as far as they were concerned, did I need? I dug the business card out of the trash and looked at it. "69 Lowry Street" was the only text printed on either side.

I turned back to my PC, brought up a map site, and searched for the address. It appeared to be a non-descript building in the older part of town. There didn't seem to be a business associated with the address, nor did it seem to be a residential building. I flipped over to a search engine and entered the address. Other than the map result, I found nothing. It was as if the building didn't exist.

I laughed to myself as I stood in the pouring rain. My curiosity had been a little more than piqued. Thoughts of covert spies, government agents, and more, had flooded my mind, but now that I had seen the building all of those thoughts were washed away like the trash in the gutter.

I sighed, figuring I might as well check it out now that I was there. I reached out to the rusted door handle and gave it a tug, expecting it to be locked. It came open freely; causing me to stumble backwards, cool air assaulting me. I looked into the room beyond. I could see nothing beyond a worn wall facing the street. It appeared the door lead into a hallway, which immediately turned to the right, probably leading to the small window I noticed earlier. It may not be much to look at, but it was dry. I quickly stepped inside.

Once inside I quickly removed my duster and shook the water from my briefcase. I ran my fingers through my short, black hair slicking it back, trying to squeeze a bit of moisture from it in the process. The narrow hallway in which I stood extended perhaps three feet ahead before turning to the right.

I stepped forward and peered around the wall. Sitting in a rickety metal fold-up chair sat the largest bouncer I had ever seen. While extremely overweight, he looked well built. His head was shaved, nicks and scratches here and there. Tattoos covered both arms down to his wrists. A scar ran down from his upper lip through the coarse hairs of his goatee. I was a pretty well built guy myself, but this man was massive and wasn't someone to trifle with. He was reading a newspaper and hadn't noticed me.

Curiosity be damned, I was getting out of there. I turned on my heel to leave. Unfortunately doing so made a loud squeak, which reverberated through the tiny hallway. I cringed and froze. "Can I help you?" came a growl from behind me.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and turned around. When I opened them I realized I was staring at the man's chest. My eyes travelled up his body until it reached his scarred face, my mouth widening into what I hoped was a genuine looking smile. "I'm sorry, I think I've got the wrong address," I said, starting to back away.

He reached out a fairly massive hand, which came to rest on my shoulder. "No one comes here unless invited," he said, as if he were chewing on a boulder.

What the hell? I reached into my pants pocket and retrieved the business card and held it up for him. He leaned back, snatched the card from my hand, and read it. He peered from it to me and back to the card. He then handed the card to me and said, "Everything seems to be in order, sir." He stepped aside, allowing me to pass. For the first time I noticed a large, veiled opening to the right of where the man had been sitting. Incredulously, I looked from the doorway to the man, who was in the act of sitting back down. What was going on?

I stepped toward the doorway. The curtain looked expensive. It shone, was slightly transparent, trimmed in complex embroidery. Glancing over my shoulder once more to assure myself that I should proceed, I found the man was already reading the newspaper. I took a deep breath, grasped the material with my free hand, and pulled it to one side.

What greeted my eyes took me by surprise. The floors all appeared to be of marble. Rich tapestries hung from immaculately painted walls. Veils of gold, orange, and pink hung from arches lining the bottom floor. Lacquered wood lined the stairs and walls. I looked up to see that there were several floors, each painted a majestic color of its own, large columns supporting each tier. The room was far too big to be encompassed inside the one building I had entered. It had to be part of the adjacent building.

"Why, hello there!" I heard a cheery voice call out from behind me. Startled, I spun around. Standing just behind me was a small woman with short, curly hair. She looked to be about 50 or so, dressed in a long gown. She was smiling, hands clasped in front of her.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and said, "You scared me half to death."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, leaning her head to one said. "That, of course, was not my intention."

"It's okay. I'm just not sure what I'm doing here," I said matter of factly.

"Ah, it is your first time, Mr. Stephenson," she said cheerily.

I was taken aback. "How do you know my name?"

"You received a card, yes?" she asked.

"Well, yes, but I have no idea who from." Here I gestured vaguely at the room. "Or what any of this is about."

"First, Mr. Stephenson, you are perfectly safe here. Safer than anywhere else in Manhattan," she said, clasping her arm around mine. "Secondly, please come this way," she said and we strode off toward the grand staircase leading up to the next floor.

"You say you do not know who left the card for you?" she asked as we walked.

"No, it was on my desk when I returned from a call," I answered, looking wide-eyed around the vast room.

"Then it would seem that someone believed you were in need of our services," she said, pondering this, nodding to herself.

We had reached the stairs and I turned to her. "That's just it. I don't understand why I'm here, or what services it is that you provide."

"You will soon enough," she said, smiling at me once again. "I will leave you in Martina's capable hands. It really was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Stephenson." With that, she turned and struck off toward the way we'd come.

I looked around me, but could see no one else. "Martina who?" I said loudly, shrugging my arms.

The little woman turned around and pointed over my head at something just behind me. I turned and looked up the staircase in front of me. There, standing at the top of the staircase was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Her amber dress hugged her body tightly, glittering slightly as she moved. Silken ginger hair flowed down and over one shoulder, splaying out just above her breast. The mounds of her breasts swelled outwards, furrowing the fabric of her dress straining to contain them. One of her silky smooth legs protruded from a long slit in the dress. "Hello, Mr. Stephenson," she said with smile.

This time hearing my name, from a stranger so ravishingly beautiful, didn't phase me at all. I stood there for a moment with what must've been a stupefied look on my face. Finally, I blinked, and smiled. "Um, hello," I replied. I could feel a stirring in my loins just looking at her. It was difficult to talk coherently, so I didn't try.

She began walking down the stairs slowly, her creamy thighs emerging from the dress with each step, her breasts slightly bouncing with each footfall. "I'm so glad you've come."

I was speechless. She was so sexy, so seductive. Each step she took brought her closer to me and the closer she came the more beautiful she appeared. I watched her walk the same way a scientist might study a slide under a microscope: I didn't want to miss a thing.

When my briefcase fell to the floor, it jarred me awake. I looked at her, more intently now, and said, "It's nice to meet you."

"And it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Stephenson."

There was my name again. This time I asked, "How do you know me?"

Her smile broadened. "Someone told us you'd be stopping by."

"Who?" I asked just as she reached the bottom step.

"Sssh," she said. She reached out and silenced me with a finger pressed to my lips. The whole situation was so surreal that I wasn't certain that she was real until that moment. I immediately felt another stirring down below. "Come with me," she said, holding out a crooked elbow.

Dumbfounded, I seemed to be rooted in place. After a moment of staring at her arm, I grasped her elbow with my hand. She clasped her hand on mine and pulled me closer until we were side by side. Together we began to ascend the stairs.

We walked in silence for a while as I took in the sites. The place was enormous and there seemed to be doors everywhere. We had ascended to the third floor. I could see the large foyer several feet below us over the wrought iron and wood railing. Finally, I asked, "So, what is this place?"

She smiled. "It's a place to find what you need, of course."

"But, what is it I need?" I said.

She looked at me intently for a moment, studying me up and down. "You need a lot of things." Her face then softened and then she smiled. "But tonight, we are going to fulfill your most basic needs."

"And what is that?" I asked.

She turned and faced the door closest to us. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Golden light spilled onto the stone floor. "We're here. Please come inside."

Entranced by her beauty and intrigued by what was to come, I entered the room. An ornate desk with a mirror squatted against the far wall. Directly to my left was a queen-sized poster bed, semi-transparent cloth draped loosely around its frame. To the right sat a large armoire, beside which was another door set into the wall. The marble flooring continued into this room and expensive looking tapestries hung from the walls.

I felt a touch on my shoulder and I turned around. It was Martina, smiling. She ran her slender fingers through my hair then cradled my face. I thought she was going kiss me for a moment. Instead, she asked, "Would you care for a drink, Mr. Stephenson?"

"Karl," I replied.

"Karl," she said with a smile.

"Do you have any scotch?" I asked.

"Is Chivas Regal okay?" she asked. I'd never even heard of it before, so I just nodded in the affirmative. She ran her fingers across my cheeks. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation.

She stepped away to the armoire and opened it. Instead of clothes, the armoire contained a selection of fine liquors, a bucket off ice, champagne, wine, and a small collection of tumblers, wine glasses, and other glassware. She selected a bottle of golden liquid from the shelf, retrieved a tumbler, tossed in a couple of ice cubes, and poured a quantity into the glass. I noticed the liquid in the glass nearly matched the color of the dress she was wearing. She repeated the process with a second glass.

Handing one glass to me, she stirred the other with one of her fingers. She deliberately, making sure I was watching, lifted her finger from glass and gently sucked the liquid from it. As she did so, she seemed to peer into my soul with her brown eyes. The smile returned to her face and she walked over to the bed, brushing back one of the curtains. She sat and crossed her legs, supporting herself by grasping a post. For the first time I could marvel at her creamy thighs without having to conceal my attraction. "You have questions. I will answer what I can," she said, smiling.

"What do you do here?" I asked, walking around the room looking everything over.

"I give you what you need," she replied, cryptically.

"And what does that entail, exactly, giving me what I need?" I asked, looking at her. She seemed to contemplate this for a moment.

"Every client is different," she said after a brief pause. "For you, you need many things. Tonight, I plan on giving you the four basic things that you need the most."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," I said, exasperated. "Are you talking about the four food groups, the four elements... what?" Suddenly it all seemed to make sense: the way she was dressed, the expensive drinks. I looked at her sternly. "Is this some sort of bordello... a whorehouse?"

"It can be. Sex is certainly one of the most basic needs," she said with a smile.

"Is that what I 'need'?" I asked, drawing air quotes with my upraised hands, immediately wishing I hadn't.

She tilted her head to one side, her luscious hair spilling off her shoulder. "In a way but it's more than that."

"And if I decide to walk out of here? If this isn't for me?"

She smiled. "Then you won't find what you need." She stood slowly, the dress clinging to her skin. She crossed the room and pressed her body against mine. I could feel her warm breasts pressing against my moist shirt. "But you won't," she said, running the back of her hand down the side of my face.

I let out a breath as I felt my cock swell. She leaned in and kissed me with her sultry lips. They were sweet and felt silky and soft. I let both my briefcase and duster fall to the floor as I wrapped my arms around her. I felt her wrap hers around me and pulled me closer. We kissed passionately for a few seconds before she stepped back, my arms instinctively letting her go.

"Will you stay?" she asked, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I didn't hesitate for a moment: "Yes."

"Good," she said with a smile. She walked across the expansive room, her high heels clicking on the stonework. "We have three rules," she said, turning back to me. "One, relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

Relax. I could do that. "Sure," I said. "What else?"

"Two, keep an open mind. I'm going to take away some of your basic necessities. In order to do that things might get uncomfortable. If you become too uncomfortable, tell me, but do try to keep an open mind. Everyone has his or her own limits. We're going to explore yours."

I wasn't sure what she meant. Taking away basic necessities? What did that mean? Still, I was intrigued, thinking more with my penis than with my head. "I'm not sure what you mean, exactly, but I'll try to keep an open mind."

"Fair enough," she said. "Lastly, we finish what we start. Just because you become uncomfortable doesn't mean we stop, we just take it a bit slower. Does that sound fair to you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I guess it depends on what we're doing that makes me uncomfortable," I said.

"You must agree to all three before we begin," she said.

I thought it over for a minute, pacing the room, sipping at my drink. Whether it was the thought of being with a beautiful woman or the alcohol beginning to loosen me up, I finally agreed. "Yes, I agree to all three," I said, turning back to her.

"Good!" she said. She placed her drink on a hardwood and wrought iron night table and walked across the room to the desk, running her hand across my chin as she passed. "Why don't you get a bit more comfortable, Karl?" she said as she began rummaging through the desk.

I looked down at myself. My clothes were still damp from the rain. I loosened the knot of my tie and slid it out from under my collar. I unbuttoned the top button of my dress shirt. Instantly, I felt relief. I kneeled and untied my left shoe, then the right. I slipped both of them off and placed them next to the armoire, out of the way. I then loosened my belt and slipped it out from around my waist. I sat my duster on top of my shoes. I then placed the briefcase on top, followed by my belt.

Quickly, I slipped out of my wet socks and, unsure where to put them, placed them on top of the armoire, draped over the side. I loosened my Boliva watch and slid it from my wrist, noting the time. It was late, already after 10 PM. I tossed it on top of the pile on the floor.

I turned to find Martina had returned to the side of the bed. She had pulled back several of the layers of material, allowing easier access to the bed. She gestured to me to join her. I strode over to where she stood, the marble floor feeling odd under my bare feet.

"Why don't you lie down, Karl?" she said, rubbing my shoulder with her hand. I took her advice and lay down on the bed. It felt fantastic. The bedding on top was soft, pliable, and silky to the touch. Its dark blue surface shimmered with light as my body made ripples across its surface. I lay my head on the pillow. It was incredibly soft and my head sank into it easily.

"Are you relaxed, Karl?" she asked, leaning down over me, her form a silhouette against the bright light behind her.

"Yes," I said with a smile of my own.

"Good, then we can begin," she said and stood upright. She disappeared around the corner of the bed and returned a moment later holding four leather cuffs.

I raised my eyebrows. "What are those for?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

Her smile reassured me. "These cuffs will help us discover the first thing you need. You need freedom, to do what you wish. You are currently working at a job where you feel trapped, lonely, and unable to move. These cuffs..." she said, holding the cuffs out to me "... are a representation of your frustration."

She leaned over me and kissed me on the forehead. "The first thing you need is freedom. I am going to help you achieve freedom, but you have to trust me." She stood up. "Do you trust me?"

I looked from her to the cuffs in her hands. Did I trust her? I didn't know her. Damn, she was beautiful though. And she promised me she wouldn't hurt me. But who was she to make that promise? And why was I here? I sensed that I was going to find something out about myself, but I wasn't sure what that was. At last, I made up my mind. "Yes," I said.