Challenge 03 - Monica Unmasked

The speakers fell silent and she moved to pick up and replace her nun's head-dress on her head. She then moved across to her desk and placed her Julius Flint dildo on it. In one movement she dropped to her knees and raised her hands and eyes in prayer to the representation of twelve inches of Black cock.

Subtlety was certainly not on the agenda but she was very pleased with how it had gone. She broke the spell, took off the head-dress and brought her chair back up to the monitor. She was breathing hard, feeling the exertion of the performance, and all of the time she heard that ringing sound from her speakers. The sound of coins, the sound of the 'collection plate'.

"Worth the wait guys?" That was the first thing she said as she sat there naked save her stockings and heels. What was the point of covering up now?

The coin sounds kept ringing out and the messages kept hurtling up the page. There had been almost all 300 members watching and over 6,000 subs. One message particularly amused her.

'Oh shit. Them fuckers had used that for a video they'd have sold a shitload more records!'

They loved the show, they loved her dance, they loved her butt, they loved her tits. All words from the members but a figure on the screen showed the subs had enjoyed it too. She hadn't believed it when she had got back to the screen. That had to be wrong didn't it? You couldn't raise that much just by three minutes of dancing and taking off your clothes?

After another forty minutes of chatting with her members and another couple of dances, both times starting out basically naked, that startling figure on the screen had pretty much trebled.

Finally it was time to draw her next card. She drew ten cards and then, according to the rules since she had completed five Level Two tasks, she added a couple of jokers. Then she shuffled the cards before dealing out all twelve face down. This had all become routine for her. Was routine really the word? More a ritual perhaps. Performed at the end of each of her Challenge shows. She had her dice ready and rolled them. They came up a five and a two. She counted along the seven cards making sure that every part of the process was clearly visible on cam. She turned over the seventh card.

A Joker.

Which meant she would be going up a Level. She smiled into the camera. She felt that she was ready.

Perhaps not everyone was so sure. A message appeared on her screen.

'H - Strippers supposed to end up naked. Not sure you passed the challenge yet.'

So that was Harley. She knew that he wasn't just being pedantic or an asshole. He wanted something from her. He was testing her before she could move on. But what did he want? She was a little confused.

"Do you mean my stockings and my heels. I can take them off but..." Her voice trailed off because she realised that she might know what he meant.

'H - Nah. Not the stockings or the heels. You wearing something else.'

She was indeed and it had been her little protection, her little barrier between herself and all that she was doing. A separation from her members and her subs - from everyone except Harley and George. The lace mask that seemed to show most while effectively obscuring her identity. At her moment of realisation of what he meant she also knew that Harley was right. The mask's time had passed. It had to go now. They had to know she had no hesitation about any of this, they had to know that she was truely one of them, that she belonged to them.

She reached up to her hair and very carefully moved the elastic strap there, A second later and she had fully removed her lace mask. Now she was truely naked and almost deaf too - courtesy of the sound of falling coins.

***

"Hey - here's our star girl."

It slightly surprised her when Harley stood up to greet her, pushing his six-foot frame up out of his chair. He held out his arms and she allowed him to embrace her. It reminded her of how big he was. An easy six foot and with a natural strength and power. She still couldn't quite fathom his age - somewhere between 35 and 50 and maybe closer to the latter was her best guess. However, he was still very much a man in his prime. His embrace was gentle, almost polite, but she still seemed to be enveloped by him. It felt really good and she was very careful not to fall into the temptation of looking around. This was a big city and not a part of it frequented by her family's social circle but nonetheless being seen to be embraced by an African-American male might still have had some tongues wagging and ears flapping on the tennis courts.

She stifled the thought. None of that stuff really mattered. Harley had always been straight with her, he hadn't hidden his appreciation of her or tried to use her. At least not unless it was seen to be mutually beneficial. How many of the 'in-crowd' could say the same in their personal dealings? She had liked Harley from their first meeting and she was genuinely pleased to see him again. She returned his embrace with interest and with rather less reserve. As she always said - it was the best thing about being who she was. She really could do just as she liked.

"I need to introduce my girl here? She been tearing things up at TKB."

She remembered the second man who had been seated at the table with her boss. She guessed that Harley was her boss, at least in the web-cam aspect of her life. She found that she rather liked to think of him that way.

Seeing his companion had taken her by surprise. Not that there was another man there but rather because of who that man was. He was about thirty, when he stood he was a few inches taller than Harley, obviously a man who looked after himself, a body sculpted by careful exercise in the gym. That wasn't the unusual thing. It was the fact that the man was white. A shock of blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Every inch the college QB after a few years making bank in finance. She recognised the look. Her trained eye took in the suit, the accessories and the shoes.

Again, it proved George Fitch right. Preparation was everything. Had she dressed as she normally would for a social occassion then this man would certainly have spotted something even if Harley hadn't.

The man had stood and was looking at her, a strange expression on his face. Finally he had nervously held out his hand. "Um, its Monica isn't it. I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of all that you do. You are just amazing. That last show was just incredible."

She felt the relief move through her. For a raw second she had feared that he had recognised her as Heather Cameron. It was so good to know that his reaction had been down to recognising her as Monica. He had been nervous and perhaps wondering whether to essay an embrace as he had just seen Harley do. It was sweet and also rather ridiculous. A grown and at least conventionally handsome man behaving like a love-sick teenage boy.

"This is Trent," cut in Harley, "he's good people and he's going to be helping us out on your Level Three. Taking good care of you. Least ways he'd better had because you are the golden goose just now baby. Telling you something here Trent but that show drew a cool 35G for Monica's end.

Trent's eyes widened a little. "As much as that? I knew it was good."

"In business terms I maybe missed a trick. Should have had the main event and the unmasking on different shows. Sometimes though you just got to go with your instinct. Why be fucking greedy? In this game its all on three counts. First, its looks. Second, its talent. Third, its attitude. This one here has got all three. Pure star quality. Girl's got what it takes to draw the eyes and the green for just as long as she wants to. But I'm gonna stop before the girl gets any redder than she already is." Harley gave a little relaxed laugh.

She was a little ashamed of herself. She'd just been thinking scornfully of Trent's behaviour but here she was blushing like a schoolgirl herself. This was a professional meeting! It was hard though. Hearing Harley's praise was such a huge ego boost. The man knew his business, was impressive in every dealing she'd had with him. It once would have surprised her to discover how much she relished his approval but it no longer did.

He was watching her but not in a hostile or suspicious way. It hit her with a start that he was watching her because he was enjoying the fact that she was there. She didn't really know what to say.

"Trent, my friend, will you go and order." Harley waved a hand and Trent stood up. "Trent knows the owner. He'll make sure we get the best. Any preference on the menu there?"

She made her choice and then Trent moved off towards the maitre d'.

Harley reached over and took her hand, his thumb stroking across her palm. There it was again - the beautiful contrast between his dark hand and her pale one. Just the gentle touch of his palm and thumb sent feelings rushing through her. Excitement, passion, desire. Part of her still felt it was foolish but it was also totally undeniable. What had Harley said about star quality? Some men had it too and one of them was seated here with her, her hand in his and his eyes locked on hers.

"You think you ready for Level Three girl? Subs raised your bounty in ten minutes and you know the Members are ranking you right up there. I wasn't stating no BS to that boy. You got what it takes to be one of the best we ever had. So, like I say, you ready to step up?"

His eyes were on her and she relished their attention, felt the excitement surging through her own veins at being with him. This man had a raw magnetism that she had noticed at their first meeting. Now, focused entirely on her, it was irresistible. Even if she had the slightest intention of resisting. She nodded.

She saw the lines at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. "Been talking to some contacts of mine. Down in the Capital and H-Town, at the network too. Some of the girls and some friends of mine. Showed one or two your last show and they ready to talk. In truth that's why I went with the unmasking. Cost me some green but I'm happier giving you the option."

"The option?" At last she felt able to speak though her throat felt dry and she straight away took a sip of her white wine.

"You want to do your research interviews and bow out now then that's fine. We both got a little taste out of the action. I'm understanding that this is a means to an end for you and what you've made will take the financial edge off a while as a little bonus. It'll have been a pure pleasure on my side and hopefully on yours too."

She felt a lurch in her stomach. Was this it? Had Harley called her here to end this? Would she just do her research interviews and then go back to how she had been?

His little smile broadened somewhat and she knew he had read her reaction in her face. "Or maybe we could take it another way..."

"Yes," she blurted out and then castigated herself mentally. It was too eager, too revealing. Then she realised the truth. It didn't matter. This man read her like a book. He already knew how she felt about this. He already knew that she would accept his suggestion. He was that experienced, that in control, that confident. He knew how she felt about the shows, about the Challenge, about the research, perhaps even about him. She immediately realised her mistake. Harley especially knew how she felt about him. The realisation hit her hard and her body's reaction was eloquent in silencing any protest or denial.

"Maybe we can play the interviews along with the Challenge. You can meet some of the real players in the business on their own ground. See all sides of the game. Let the cards decide the order and the pace. That way, of course, will require a little more time, a little more commitment. You been dipping your toes in the water and showing all the right signs but..."

He was playing a game with her. She knew it and also knew that this man knew that she knew it. Dangling the lure out there and knowing that the fish would bite. It wasn't malicious in any way. It was purely for the pleasure of it. For knowing that she wouldn't deny him. Because he was offering what she had discovered that she craved.

"Yeah," he continued. "How you feel when that camera goes on? How you feel when you reading those messages? How you feel when you remember our trip to H-Town? The girl dancing at the club - you ever think that could be you? Dancing up there with two hundred men watching you and wanting you. Not no white boys neither but real men. The kind of men you want looking at you; the kind of men you want desiring you. The kind of men you want claiming you."

She had thought about that dancer so often. She had also thought about later when they were at Cassius' private club. She was tired of trying to deny it to herself. "I think you know," she said.

He smiled again. "A lot of men go through life getting their kicks from forcing folk into doing things. They are all weak-shit motha-fuckers. The real pleasure, the true satisfaction, comes in helping a woman discover who she really is, letting her be who she can truly be. It don't hurt if she's a high-end fine-assed little piece of course. That don't hurt one little bit."

They might have been lines designed to tell her just what she wanted to believe about Harley. That might be just what they were. However, she doubted it. Nothing about Harley came across as fake. He was the real deal. She smiled and gave a little nod.

"Good we'll proceed on that understanding. I meant to ask about George Fitch?"

That surprised her. What was he getting at? "You know?"

He gave another of his little smiles. "I've been appreciative of the help he's been giving

you. Been thinking about making him a TKB Member. What with business being how it is I've been considering expanding to 350 members, maybe 400. Just that we like to be real selective. No-one gets in without a recommendation from me and one of my girls. So what you say? He's reliable? Trustworthy? Also, to stray outside of my expertise, he up to the job?

"I don't know what the Members do?"

Harley spread his palms wide. "They look after my girls - in every sense that the girl desires. So what do you say?"

How was she meant to answer that? "I, um, don't have any complaints. However, I haven't, you know..."

"I know - me and George have an understanding. It don't do to rush these things. Besides, soon he'll be a Member and then..."

Once she remembered that her father had told her a lesson handed down to him by his own father. Her grand-father had been a ruthless business man, inheriting wealth but also building upon it. It had been a lesson in what made a good boss, a good leader. It was understanding your business inside out, it was knowing it to the finest detail. It wasn't about huge offices and loud voices and private planes - though it could be. It was knowing how things worked and knowing just when to grease a wheel or nudge the tiller. She had often suspected that was why her father had dropped out of active business and preferred his charitable work. He wasn't like that and she was honest enough to know that she wasn't either. However, the man with her now was. As different from her grand-father as two men could be but also in that way alike. They were natural leaders and they both knew that they were. Of course her grand-father had also been a ruthless SOB. With Harley only time would tell.

Of course George and Harley had been in contact - it only made sense. Harley knew where he sent the packages, she had told Harley who the only Black guys she knew in her area were. It hadn't taken Sherlock Holmes to work it out and Harley would want to check George out. To look after her - or to protect his 'golden goose'. Or perhaps both.

Harley raised his finger and when Trent immediately arrived back at their table she understood. Harley was very definitely the boss here and he had kept their previous conversation private between them. She felt like his co-conspirator in that, his confidant, and the feeling was not unpleasant.

Harley raised a finger. "Level One was getting used to the camera. Level Two was showing you got what it takes. Level Three is taking this out of your comfort zone - out of your private space. Which is where our friend Trent comes in." He gave a half wave to the other man.

Trent spoke. His voice was assured, practised, like a business executive delivering a presentaton. "Level Three is what we call the public stage. In fact that is our name for it - 'Public'. I'm based in Philadelphia and I have some experience in assisting at this Level. Likely locations, potential difficulties, you know the sort of thing."

She didn't but she had an idea she would soon be finding out. "When you say public?"

"It means what it says," said Harley, "for those girls who have a little exhibitionist streak. You know the kind that like to imagine dancing at a club but need to build up to it a little."

She knew that feeling alright - but she also knew the inherent risks in this. If this was headed where she realised it was probably headed then there were such things as public indecency laws. Getting arrested was not her idea of fun.

"I'll be your driver, your camera operator and your wing-man," said Trent. "There are some good safe locations and I can keep an eye out for the authorities or for trouble. People that want to mess with you probably won't want to mess with me."

She understood that. Trent was an impressive physical figure. That was undeniable though it made his obvious deference to Harley all the more notable.

"We would operate on Friday and Saturday nights - that way you avoid the old folks and kids who don't need to be seeing this. I can say I've done several of these and only had a problem once. We got a warning and our girl had to take a selfie with the cop!"

"Which is why on this level you get a driver that looks like Trent here rather than me or George," added Harley. "We get caught with you up there and we going to the cells and getting a probable ticket for soliciting. Up there in your neighbourhood its a whole lot smoother if publicly you with a white boy."

She understood and nodded.

"I think you had an understanding with George regarding compensation for his time and effort," smiled Harley. "I believe Trent here will agree to that arrangement continuing."

"Oh yes," Trent blurted out.

It caught her by surprise. Her reaction obviously showed on her face. Trent was probably a lot of young women's idea of an attractive male but she had come to know better. 'To know differently', she rather half-heartedly mentally corrected herself.

"Oh no, " Trent looked genuinely horrified by her reaction, "I didn't mean that. Certainly not. I would never ever, um..."

Harley gave a rich deep little laugh. A laugh of genuine amusement. "Trent here is married to one of my friend's girls. Tonisha. She wouldn't be standing for none of that and she makes sure there ain't no likelihood of it. Ain't that right boy?"

"Oh yes, yes. I meant that in return for my help I hope that you will continue your arrangement with George. I find that very, umm, exciting."

She looked at Harley but the African-American just looked back at her with that little smile of his.

So in return for his time and work, also in return for potential legal risk, he wanted her to give a blow job to another man, a Black man. Yet he was apparently married to an African-American woman who approved of, or at least allowed, his activities. She shot a new more knowing glance at Harley and the man's smile grew a little.

Not only could Trent be very useful but he was a fascinating possible study for her researches. Just by observing him and listening to his comments she could learn a lot. If she could persuade him to be interviewed then who knew what she might discover.