The Case of Club Hoisery Ch. 01

The woman who walked in was all legs. They were bathed in dark silk stockings, ones that demanded all eyes on them with their sheer fabric hinting to her firm thighs. Her legs were pressed together by her tight pencil skirt, the storm gray color matched in her blouse top with ample cleavage that did much less hinting than her pantyhose. When she moved her nylons shimmered and rubbed together singing a pleasing hum.

Her eyes showed only a sparkle behind the shadow casted down from her large brimmed, floppy hat. Her lips were blood red and pouty, they caught the eye as she spoke making it hard for me to look away. Her entire person had that effect.

I met her with a handshake and a smile. "Henry Turner. At your service."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Turner" Her voice was breathey, spoken in almost a whisper. Like everything she said to you was some secret, something just between the two of you. When she shook my hand, I felt her gentle grip behind her silk elbow high gloves, ones that matched the rest of her gray getup. I had to look up to meet her eyesight, but I struggled to keep my sight on her almost amethyst purple eyes.

Usually I liked to be called Mr. Turner by my clients, but with her it didn't seem right. For whatever reason, I couldn't wrap my brain around. "Call me Henry."

"Vivian Holloway," She stretched out her hand, long fingernails matched her lip color and slender fingers returned a gentle handshake. "A little young to be a detective, aren't 'ya hun?"

"Private investigator." I smiled a fake smile. I'd heard it before, everyone who walked through that door seemed to make that observation as if it was the first time anyone had ever had that thought before. It usually bothered me. Usually. Not so much with her. "And you're right. I'm only 22, but I assure you that to get here at this age is not a negative, Miss. All it means is that I surpassed my peers, even those quite a bit older."

Those red lips pursed into a smile. "Confident one, I like that. But your age does mean you have less experience. Should I be worried?" She didn't look one bit worried, in fact she looked more comfortable in my office than I felt.

"Worried? No. Yes, I have less first hand experience," In truth, I had next to none. Small and menial cases. Lost items, helping find people not deemed missing, background checks. No significant work, nothing that didn't take me more than a couple of days. Nothing that intrigued me half as much as the women across from me. "But, I think you'll find my skills more than acceptable. I don't do half-assed jobs, ma'am."

"Ma'am? Do I really look so old?" She said with a smirk. She didn't look old at all, her mature figure and assured posture gave away her middle age more than anything else. Her body was sculpted like a mothers, wide hips and ample bosom, although I made sure to avert my eyes.

"No, of course not. Its just-- I--"

"It's fine, sweetie. Just teasing. And as for your age, that's fine. I think a bit of young blood is perfect for my purposes."

I smiled, adjusted myself in my seat and asked "what are your purposes, Mrs. Holloway?"

"Ms. Holloway, actually." Her face was too intrepid to blush. "And I need to find someone. He works for me, at Club Hosiery. You've ever been?"

"No, can't say I have."

"Mmmm, curious. A young man like you in this town, I thought you would've at least spent a few nights there, dancing, drinking, chatting up women." There was that smirk again, it could shoot an arrow through your heart. "Perhaps I'm being immodest, being the owner and all. Regardless, the person I want you to find is a young man, age 20, named Jake Morris. He's been under my employment for two months now. As a sort of... I suppose you'd call him a bus boy but that seems awfully disparaging of his assistance."

"Missing how, exactly?"

"Missing as he is missing. He was meant to show up for his shift on Monday, it is now Wednesday and I have not heard from him. I've tried his house, but his mother does not know where he is. His school hasn't reported his attendance. His friends are clueless." Her stoic expression faded slightly, worry was not a look she wore often.

"And you have reported this to the police?"

"No. I think it would be better if we don't go that route. There is a reason why I am here, Mr. Turner."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Never before had I gotten a case so, well, real. The missing people I dealt with were usually just ducking family or lawyers. This was a job for real detective, real law enforcement. I shook those thoughts away. "I can do this." My voice wavered. "But why not the police? I mean, his mother must be worried sick."

She nodded. "Indeed, Mrs. Morris is quite perturbed, rightfully so. Yet she is a premium member of our club..." I said nothing. She continued, "you see, Henry, Club Hosiery is a little more than just a nightclub. We have... entertainment and amusements. Adult entertainment. Gambling... among other things. Not strictly legal." Her face wore coolness like a veil.

I knew my clientele would eventually dip into that of the other side of the law, there was a reason I was not the police, after all. I may not like it, but we all have our vices. As long as they're not cruel. "That's fine, as long as it's nothing harmful or violent."

She chewed on the question. "Not in an offensive sense... no."

I raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Before I can talk about my business I need to know if you will take the case. I can't have this information getting into the wrong hands. My people only."

"I understand that Ms. Holloway, but in order to come to a decision I need to know. And I would never tell anyone else what you tell me, even if it is not legal. It's strictly between you and me."

She stared through me, her gaze fixed on me. "Fine. But Henry, if you betray my trust I can promise swift action from me and my organization. And Henry, it won't just be you in the crossfire, but your loved ones as well."

I felt my heart race. "You mean-? Ah, yes of course. I won't tell a soul."

"Good. Think of Club Hosiery as a... club for like minded women. Some boys too, but mainly middle aged women who are looking for a little excitement in their life. We provide... services for these women. Young men, to be more precise."

"Gigolos?"

Vivian laughed. "In a sense yes," I let out a sigh of relief. He was fine with gigolos, for a moment he was worried he was across the desk from a drug queenpin. "But," Vivian went on, "these young men are a little...swayed."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Swayed? Like persuaded to lie about some illegal business?"

"No, swayed. Like a tree in the wind. We bend them in a particular direction."

Henry froze then croaked, "drugging them?"

"Oh no, nothing of the sort, we simply hypnotize them." Vivian switched her legs, a light shimmers a beam across my vision as it caught her flying nylon legs.

"Hypnotize?" I asked dumbly.

"Yes. The lovely thing about hypnosis is you can't make anyone do anything they don't want to do. Our little hypnosis trap only gets the boys who, deep down, already want to serve. That is to say, we aren't forcing the boys, Henry."

I had to process it but Vivian gave him no time.

She continued. "And that's why you would make such a lovely PI for me, you're their age and can easily blend right in with them, figure out where Jake disappeared to." Vivian said with a plastered on innocent smile.

"You can't be serious." I said, pulling away from the desk. Hypnotizing? I couldn't tell if she was messing with me or just downright crazy. I was leaning towards the latter.

"Dead serious Henry. I'm quite worried about Jakey, it's a dangerous for a boy like that to get lost. I know you're unaware of it but there are more like me than you'd think." After I couldn't find the words to respond, she continued.

"Would you like me to show you the hypnosis?" She asked.

"No!" I wasn't expecting to sound too snappy. I hesitated. "No, that's fine. I can't take this case Ms. Holloway, it doesn't feel right. Sketchy night clubs, hypnotized men?"

"It's just a bit of fun, Henry. Like I said, the servants love it."

"Servants-!"

"Come tonight Henry. Just check out the place. Come to Club Hoisery with me. I'll make it worth your while"

"Please Ms. Holloway, I tried to be polite but I'm not dumb. This reeks of a trap... I become one of your puppets, huh?"

Vivian laughed. "Oh Henry, I could've already had you wrapped around my finger, if I wanted to. But I need you to be clear minded and my foot boys usually aren't, hehehe."

I flexed an eyebrow but made no comment. Foot boys?

"I have a lead." She unzipped her black leather hand bag and pulled out a plastic bag which had some sort of fabric bundled up in it. Vivian continued, "this was found in his work locker." After taking it out of the bag and holding it up for me to see, it became clear it was a pair of nylon pantyhose. "Normally this would not be too much cause for concern as the employees are allowed to... socialize with the guests," She placed the undergarments back into the bag, "but of course poor Jake is now missing and none of the girls at The Hosiery claim these as theirs. This is where you come in, Henry. I have no idea what I'm doing and although this isn't much, I hope you could use this evidence to find Mr. Jake Morris."

I chewed on it, wondering if it was a simple case of two lovers falling in love and eloping. If that was true, finding them would be impossible but Vivian looked like she had money and I had no other jobs. Plus her Club Hosiery intrigued me. I'm not naive, I knew Elm Haven had its dirty secrets but what Vivian described and alluded to was a whole world of debauchery and sin. Summary: there was a case here somewhere, I just had to find the right angle and Vivian Holloway spelled DANGER.

"To be honest, Ms. Holloway, this whole case seems to be a little too big for me." I tried to explain, she cut in.

"Nonsense, it's perfect. You'll be reporting exclusively to me at Club Hosiery, it's nothing that the two of us can't handle."

There it was again: Club Hosiery. She loved to mention it whenever she could. And the hypnosis... it sent a chill down his spine. "I-I don't feel right."

She chewed on her lip. "At least that's partly the truth." Her and I locked eyes, she stared me down seeing if I would waiver. I looked down at the tan pantyhose stuffed in the evidence bag. "How about you keep these here and I may take a small look into the case." I said.

Ms. Holloway raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh?" She grinned. "Okay, you can have them. But Henry, do not let me find you working for some other woman, okay?"

I was speechless, stammering over his words. She continued. "You're my PI. My detective." She looked into my soul as she said this, standing up as I stayed seated; she towered over me.

"I-I work for whoever pays me the most... heh-" I joked.

Then STOMP. Vivian Holloway stomped her heel on my hardwood floor, the impact rung off every surface and the motion drew in my eye. She wore black leather heels that wrapped around the front but left a window for her big toe and a couple of her other toes whose nails were painted a scarlet red. Red so deep that it looked like a bottomless pit of silk. Even in my low-light cruddy office apartment and beneath the dark pantyhose, Vivians pedicure had a way of twisting light to captivate one's attention

"You are exclusively mine." She stated expectedly. "Say it."

"I'm-I'm... exclusively yours?" I said automatically, my eyes now following the swirls of the light running around her nylon toes. Was I drooling?

"Good boy." She said. My lips responded with a smile. Her voice dropped, she spoke with breath. "Just look and listen, boy. It's fine to let your eyes get lost... to let your mind wander."

"Uhhh" I hesitated to respond. She responded for me. "Yes Miss."

"Yes Miss?" I say, almost breaking from the spell and looking up.

"Is that a question?" She flexed her toes, like the pull of a magnet, my eyes refocused on her toes.

"No Miss." I said, assured in my answer.

She said, "Good boy" and I smiled.

She continued. "I want you to do something for me, Henry. Close your eyes" Suddenly, she had all my attention. "My eyes shut, yet the image of her toes had burned into my eyelids and slowly faded back to black.

"I want you to imagine your mind as a desk. It could be any kind of desk you'd like, but it has to have drawers. Can you see it?" I nodded as I saw it. A newly handcrafted, cherry colored wooden desk with a column of drawers lined along the left side, each with black knobs as handles. The top of the desk was scattered with various papers that I couldn't read and books with gibberish as the titles but also, on the back corner, was a framed picture of my mom and I. It wasn't until later when I realized that I was imagining the very desk that was in front of me, the one my grandfather made when I announced I was opening my own Private Investigator firm.

"Good boy. Can you open up one of the empty drawers for me?" Her words transformed the image in my mind, a drawer opened and it was bare.

"Open your eyes"

I opened them to be greeted once again with her heels and her toes. "Remember this picture. The lovely elegance of my toes, the shine of my scarlet red nails. The power under my heel." I nodded absentmindedly to her voice. She continued speaking but her words, while not literally becoming quieter, seemed to fade in my mind until my brain no longer perceived them as language, instead it was more like a compelling tune. I nodded again but wasn't sure what I was nodding too, instead I kept looking at her beautiful heels and the toes peeking out from it, each one like an elegant pearl if pearls could be a luscious shade of scarlet.

"Kneel." When she said it, I heard it and my legs bent until my knees hit the floor. I was more than happy to oblige, I could get a better look at her pedicure and how the light made them shine.

"Kiss." She said. Alarm bells rang throughout my head like something was wrong but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what. Her toes looked so pretty, I felt honored my lips would be allowed to touch them. I lowered my head and pucked my lips, relishing each moment until my soft lips touched her big toe. I let them rest there for a moment out of greediness, but then I finished the kiss, my tongue sneaking out and caressing her toe, before I knelt back up.

"Remember all of this." She told me, looking down on me. "Remember how my foot looks. Remember how powerless you are. How eager you are to obey. How privileged you are to obey. Remember how much you loved kissing my foot. Remember all of this. Remember... good boy. Now, put that memory into that empty drawer inside your eyes."

It's there. In the drawer of my mind, the memory of me kissing Vivians Holloways foot lies.

"Lock the drawer." In my head, I put a key into the lock which wasn't there before, but appeared as she said so, and I twisted it, almost actually hearing the clink of the drawer fastened shut.

"I have the only key. You gave it to me. You and I know the memory is in there, you can even see it if you think about it. Yet, that memory is mine because I have the key." As she spoke, it seemed to all make perfect sense. I nodded along, my eyes unmoved.

"Think of my toes. Crave my toes. And maybe, I'll unlock that drawer..." Even though I couldn't see it, I knew she was smiling. "Repeat it."

I nodded. "I'll think of your toes..." I said in concentration, as if I was already trying to open that locked drawer even though the image was right there. "I'll..."

"You'll crave my toes." She repeated.

"I'll crave your t-toes...?" I frowned slightly. A small: why? appeared in my head. Did I like toes? As I watched her foot and her wiggling digits in their pantyhose cocoon, I found my dick getting hard. Did I like feet? My brain was starting to hurt.

"You will visit Club Hosiery and ask for Viv." She said next.

Through my clouded head, her words triggered a recollection and I blinked. That name; Club Hosiery, was a flag for me. She kept mentioning it and now I knew why, for some reason she needed me to go there. I felt like I was lost in a dream and had to wake myself, but like in a dream, I pounded on the walls of my mind but would not wake. "I will... I will..." I couldn't say it, I didn't crave feet. In fact, the feeling I felt was more akin to disgust than craving.

I blinked. I felt like I had just taken a shot of espresso. "Wha-?"

I looked up at her and for the first time I noticed a fault in her stare, a little quiver in her expression.

"Um, what- what's" I stammered.

"You drifted off there a little bit, stared into space. Everything alright, Detective?" She said.

My face went red. If I had garnered any respect or sense of professionalism from Ms. Holloway, that had all gone out the window with me staring at her toes. But that wasn't all that happened... I remember remembering her toes... Her toes...

I frowned in concentration, before I could form any sort of fully formed thought, she said "Well, I better be going. Definitely inspect those pantyhose, Henry, and come talk to me at Club Hosiery if you want to discuss anything about the case."

"Alright, but I'm not technically taking on your case yet, Ms. Holloway." I reminded her.

She nodded. "Oh yes, I know. But you are exclusively mine."

"Yes." I said. "I'm exclusively yours."

"Goodie." She smiled. "And good luck, Detective Turner."