Part-Time Job

The place was dimly lit and smoky. He sat at a small table and looked at the shapely girls on stage. Soon a waitress approached him and he ordered a straight Scotch. After two more, his inhibitions were loosened enough for him to request a private lap performance from one of the dancers. He gave her a $25 tip in addition to the regular $25 cost of the five-minute dance.

Gil asked the pretty golden dark girl what time she'd be off work. "I've got about thirty more minutes before I'm done. Why?," she asked hoping to get more money from this old man who must have been loaded or had just been paid and wanted to blow some cash.

"Meet me out in the parking lot. I'll take you to breakfast," Gil said in nonchalantly.

"Sure thing," the young girl of about 20 said. "But just breakfast now," she warned, "Nothing physical, okay?"

"Whatever you say, pretty lady," Gil lied just wanting to close the deal.

She usually got a ride home with one of the other dancers, but after Gil's promising invitation, the girl had informed her friend she had another way home. This was common practice for the girls. Although they had been warned to be careful about seeing customers outside of the club, many did anyway. That how they made most of their money. Some even managed to luck up and snag a steady boyfriends or a sugar daddy.

They met in the parking lot. The girl, Karen, was eager to get a free meal and make a little more money, especially since she was thinking she wouldn't have to do much more than talk to the hefty man or maybe dance for him again.

He drove them to a nearby greasy spoon all-night diner where she ordered a steak and eggs, a side salad and a large glass of orange juice. Gil just ordered a Danish and a cup of coffee. His appetite at that moment was not really for food but he wanted to play the game. Being seen in public together would make what he had planned for the girl look more consensual.

"Stupid, greedy bitch," Gil thought as he watched her gnaw away at the tough steak. "That's how they are. They all want something for nothing. Sure she has a nice-looking body and her face is cute too, but that doesn't make her anything special. She's just like the rest. She needs to be beaten down."

Karen had no way of knowing what Gil was thinking by the expression of sheer delight on his face. She thought he was just so happy to be seen with such a pretty woman as herself. "I'm gonna' get as much out of this hound dog as I can tonight. Just look at him going crazy with desire for me," she thought.

When he asked her if she wanted anything else, she just knew she had him eating out of the palm of her hands. "I think I'll have a lemon meringue pie to go - if you don't mind," she said.

"Waitress," Gil called with authority. "My lady will have a lemon pie to go. No, make it two. I've got to fatten her up a little." This made Karen blush. She was happy to hear the old guy make reference to her thinness as she had struggled to keep her petite figure. Further, this convinced her she had a "live one"—a perfect sucker because he freely spent money on her. She thought she might keep him around. A few of the other dancers at the club had men who cared for them and all testified how much easier life was having someone "keep" them.

Gil kept up appearances and tipped the waitress 100 percent. He knew that would make her remember their visit and, if ever asked, she would only have nice things to say about him.

Once in the car, Gil continued the mind game with the girl. He was pretending to stick strictly to his word of "just breakfast." "So where do you live? We'd better get you home before your folks become worried about you."

Just as he suspected, she had no one at home. "Oh, we don't have to worry about that. I live alone. We don't have to go there right away," she hinted at extending the early morning together.

Acting as if he took the bait, he said, "So what would you like to do?"

"I've had such a good time with you. Maybe we could just get a room and hang out. I don't know your schedule, but I don't have to go back to work until Monday," Karen said persuasively.

"Cool, we'll get a room and just hang out then," Gil happily agreed.

He drove to a secluded and tiny flea-bag motel and got a room for three days using his real name. It was just past 2AM. Gil wasn't sure how long he'd stay but wanted no interruptions and made sure to tell the clerk he did not want to be disturbed. He had the naive girl just where he wanted her and he was going to make her pay for her vanity, greed and gullibility.

Once inside the room, Gil placed the "Do Not Disturb" marker up which showed on the outside of the door then Gil, the potential sugar daddy, became Gil, the gorilla. He turned on the TV and increased the volume so there would be sounds over any noises they would make. He instructed Karen to go into the bathroom to freshen up while he stepped outside to get some things from the car.

While she was in the restroom, Gil removed the motel's linen, placed a large tarp over the bed and waited for Karen to come out. As soon as she entered the room, Gil grabbed the frail female by the hair and slung her onto the now plastic covered bed. She was stunned and was about to scream when he lunged on top of her and put a simple pocket knife to her throat. He had picked it up, and a few other things, from out of his car's tool box. "If you so much as make a sound I'll shred your pretty little face up so bad you won't ever be able to show it in public," Gil enunciated each syllable bitterly through gritted teeth.

Knowing that her face and body was how she earned her living, Karen remained silent. He stuffed an oil rag in her mouth and duck taped it. He tied her hands to the bed with a piece of rope he had brought in. Removing her clothes was easy since she was half-dressed. "Slut!", he said scornfully as he spread her legs wide and propped them over his shoulders. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's up to you but we're gonna' do it."

He chuckled as he continued speaking, "And we're gonna' do it A-L-L-L D-A-A-AY L-O-O-Ong."

There was total terror in the girl's eyes. This thrilled Gil to no end. He wanted respect from her—something he felt he didn't get from Sonya. He wanted to wipe that cunning "I'm too sexy for you" grin off this girls' face and see fear, which to him was reverence.

Using no condom, Gil brutalized and humiliated the young woman over the next 16 hours. He did everything he could think to do to her. He had plain vaginal sex. He had anal sex. He tied, pinched and bit her breasts and nipples. He stuffed objects into her orifices. He urinated and defecated on her and refused to allow her to go to the bathroom. For him, it was pure unrestrained and sadistic pleasure; degradation and humiliation to the fullest.

When he became sleepy, he laid down on the motel's bedspread and pillows which he had thrown on the floor and had the most peaceful sleep he'd known in weeks. He kept Karen tied on the filthy tarp-covered bed. The room smelled foul from urine, feces, and sex, but that's the way he wanted it. He felt foul. Life was foul. So why shouldn't one dinky motel room smell like the funk of life.

When he awoke, he went out for food and drink for himself. He also bought a disposable douche bottle, a disposable enema kit and some cleaning supplies. He brought everything back to the room and ate in front of Karen keeping her tied and gagged. Her once alluring face now looked like the steak she'd devoured at the diner.

Thinking about it made him laugh aloud and taunt her, "You thought you were so smart then, didn't you? You were planning on pimping me; and now look."

"And you know what the best part is?", he snickered, "You can't do a damn thing about it, BITCH! You can't tell because people saw us leave the club together, eat together and check in here together. To everyone, we're a couple."

He got right into her pain-contorted face, "If ever confronted, this is just some sex game you willingly play with your many, many boyfriends. Even if you tried to report me, aside from the fact that a lot of people saw us as a consenting couple, you're just a nasty stripper. No one would believe you or care even if they did believe you. No one cares about you, little whore dog!"

The broken young woman just closed her eyes in despair and fatigue. She knew he was probably right. She'd seen enough of American "justice" to know that those considered undesirable (strippers, pimps, whores and poor folks in general) never got a fair shake in the system. All she could do was take whatever her captor dished out and hopefully learn from it.

The hours seemed to trickle by as she lay in human waste. She didn't know when her captor would let her go but she was sure she wouldn't tell anyone whenever he did. At one point, she figured he might kill her but reasoned he wouldn't have gone through so much trouble to show people they were together as a couple if he had plans on taking her life. But hadn't he, in so many ways, done just that? What kind of life would there be for her now? She thought about moving to a different state and starting over. She thought about getting a new identity altogether and maybe taking some low paying secretarial or cashier's job. She thought about suicide. She thought about murder. She thought and thought and thought as she waited for this stranger, whom she had allowed to completely change her life and keep her bound in filth, to release her. She didn't want to be a "kept" woman anymore. Now, she wanted to make her own decisions and change her life for the better though, at the moment, she didn't know how.

After a while Gil tired of the girl. He had used and abused her enough for his pleasure and the sight and smell of her was starting to annoy him.

He now had work to do to get the room back into proper order. He untied the weak, smelly girl and wrapped her in the tarp like a big rug but making sure no urine or excrement spilled onto the bed or floor. He drug the bundle into the motel shower and spent the next two hours soaping and saturating every part of both the tarp and the girl.

He spread her legs and fisted her vagina with a wash cloth in his hands. He used the douche and enema on her that he bought earlier. He made every effort to clean away traces of himself from her body. Though he felt certain she wouldn't tell anyone, he took a few precautions anyway. Karen felt too drained and hopeless to do anything but let him manipulate her body as he scrubbed it angrily.

He dressed her in the same skimpy outfit she had come there in. When she started to look a little better, Gil felt a twinge of compassion for her and asked if she wanted something to eat. She just hung her head downward. After what she'd been through over the past day, she didn't think she could hold any food.

Once the room looked and smelled much the way they found it, Gil packed the car. He turned in the key and thanked the clerk. He told the fifty-something year-old woman he and his lady-friend were checking out early and that they enjoyed the stay. He told her to keep any money he might be refunded as a tip. That left a profound impression on her. The motel clerk could hardly wait for him to leave so she could check out the room to see what damages he may have caused. She was pleasantly surprised to find the room seemed to be cleaner than before the couple arrived.

Kissing Karen's lifeless hand as if they were a loving couple, Gil smiled and drove to a nearby fast food chain. He insisted that they go inside together and eat. Because of Karen's revealing attire, a few people stared at them. Gil put his arms around the woman in a protective, "Back-off-my-woman!" sort of way. Karen felt dead inside. She was just going through the motions as she tried to nibble on the burger and fires. She thought she'd surely regurgitate whatever had she managed to swallow.

Gil didn't make her eat much. The trip was mainly for show and Karen knew it. She understood perfectly well that this psycho was just shielding himself in case she did report him. What she didn't know at that time was that she was footing the bill for everything. He had taken her club earnings from her purse to pay for the breakfast at the diner and the two slices of pie, the hotel room, the douche, the enema, the cleaning supplies, the lunch he ate right in front of her while she was tied up and the meal he insisted she eat after the long torturous event. He kept the rest as a fee for the lesson he was teaching her.

After dropping Karen off at her apartment, Gil counted his money to discover that he had "earned" over 200 tax-free dollars from his exciting new part-time job. From then on, he was always looking for new "contracts". He was careful to pick the easy targets—the needy and fearful women and those who felt they had more to lose by telling than by keeping quiet. He preyed on those who had more cash than courage and more cravings than common sense. Because females who were like that were in abundance, Gil found a new way to entertain himself and satisfy his urges. He worked his full-time job whenever he wanted but was never broke and always found "clients" for his perfect part-time job.

THE END