The Director: Sandy

"I want to talk to the Director," said the woman. She was a curvy girl, wearing jeans and a sweater that hinted at but did not reveal large breasts. She had only subtle makeup on, pale pink lipstick and a hint of eye-shadow. People who wanted to get into the club dressed up. She looked vaguely familiar, but Catherine Vincent couldn't place her.

Tall, willowy, and elegant, Catherine wore a black evening dress slit high on the thigh. She often used the daringness of the women's outfits to help her make decisions about who got in. With the men, it was more a matter of whether they put in an effort to look attractive. This woman was a clear no, by either standard. Even her footwear was lacking. Tennis shoes would be incongruous in Club Incognito.

"I want to talk to the Director," the woman repeated.

The Director had changed Catherine's life, the day he rescued her from the bridge and made her want to suck his cock. She understood now that "made" was the appropriate term, and that the Director had powers over people. She also didn't mind one bit. He tried to use those powers to help, rather than hurt. He was more moral than herself, perhaps. She cared only about serving him. She had been an unemployed actress, out of luck and ready to kill herself. Now she was running Club Incognito, the most notorious nightclub in town, and the young lady talking to her was in the line of people hoping to be admitted, standing outside. That change she credited entirely to the Director, and she was glad he found her useful. She had purpose now.

Some people knew about the Director's existence as the shadowy backer of the club. Most didn't, as Catherine was the highly visible frontwoman. "Who are you?" she asked. "What's your name?"

"My name is Sandy."

"Well, I'm very sorry, but the Director isn't here," Catherine lied smoothly.

"I'm Julie Ann's sister," Sandy said.

Ah. That's why she looks familiar. It didn't change the answer. Julie Ann was waiting tables inside, wearing nothing but a thong and heels. Catherine wasn't going to presume that Julie Ann wanted her sister to see her like that, or that Sandy understood quite how wild things got inside. Julie Ann had once said something about a domineering grandmother who taught her to repress her sexuality. Sandy looked like she was still following that script.

"I'll let your sister know you're here, if you like," said Catherine.

"I don't want to see my sister. I want to see the Director. He's done something to her." Sandy's voice rose. People stared.

As Catherine knew, Sandy wasn't wrong. The Director had done something to her, and Catherine had helped. She was sure the new uninhibited Julie Ann was happier, so it was all for the good. Sandy probably didn't see it that way.

"I'm sorry," Catherine said. "I have a job to do. Perhaps you'd like to leave your name and number? Just write it on something and hand it to me, I'll have the Director get back to you."

"Julie Ann told me she was going to see him tonight. So I know he's here."

"Not right now, he isn't," said Catherine. She turned from Sandy and spoke to a woman who showed she'd understood the dress code. Green dress, with a V-neck that reached her navel. No bra. Short hem, barely covering her ass. "Are you wearing panties?" she asked the woman.

"Uh, yeah."

"Toss them in the basket in the foyer and you can get in."

The woman didn't hesitate, and flashed the crowd in her rush to get them off. They were crotchless, Catherine noted. If the woman had told her that, Catherine would have let her keep them on, but the question and the request was for show, partially. Those who didn't get in would be that much more sure they wanted to get in next time. The less daring would be scared away. Drama like that spread the word about the club. She glanced over the crowd and noticed something odd. Sandy wasn't glaring at her. Instead, Sandy's face had turned a little pink.

Catherine had an idea. "Stick around," she whispered to Sandy.

Quickly, she worked through the line. She was only planning to admit two more women and one man, anyway. They always let in a bunch of regulars first, and then a few newcomers to fill out the numbers. She picked out a woman in a tube top and matching miniskirt -- it was a trashy look, but she'd done trashy well. Then another in a leather corset and a severe skirt that barely uncovered her knees, and five-inch heels. Diversity was a good thing.

There was a guy with a tailored tux, and he got in too. "That's all for tonight," Catherine said. "We'll be open next Friday night if you want to try again."

Sometimes people lingered, hoping persistence would get them in, or that someone would leave and there would be a spot. This time the crowd cleared, leaving only Catherine and Sandy.

"Well?" Sandy asked.

"I'll ask. That's all I can promise. Wait here." Catherine opened the door to the club, intending to ask the Director what he wanted to do.

It wasn't the first time someone had tried to push her way into the club, but Sandy doing it surprised her. She nearly knocked Catherine over in the process, but grabbed her to stop her fall. Either way, she was inside. Fortunately the club had a little foyer, separated from the main floor by a velvet curtain. Cliff, a well-built blond man who was the only man who served the Director, sat at a desk there. His job was to collect release forms, and to be a bouncer if Catherine needed one. He got up the moment the two women entered the club.

"I'm not going to just let you lock me outside and ignore me," Sandy said. "I'm not that stupid."

"Need a little help there, Cat?" Cliff asked.

Catherine nodded. "Just keep this girl under control for a bit while I go ask something inside."

"Yes, Ma'am." Cliff moved to stand in front of the velvet curtain. Sandy wasn't getting past him. "Who is she?"

"Julie Ann's sister."

"Important family news?" asked Cliff.

"No," said Catherine. "She doesn't want to see Julie Ann. She wants to see the Director."

"Ah."

Catherine slipped past Cliff, confident that he could keep Sandy contained, and headed in. She was sure the scene inside would have shocked Sandy. Apparently Julie Ann didn't have any orders at the moment, because she was dancing on a table. On big screens, what most people took to be porno was playing. In fact, the screens displayed things happening in the side rooms. She recognized Lucy giving a guy a blowjob, and on another screen a woman was being DP'd. There were a few people fucking in the main room, too, one of which was Cliff's wife Jane. When Cliff saw that, his cock would try to get hard, but Jane kept him caged most of the time.

She didn't know where to find the Director. He was a master of disguise, and could be any of the men in the club. She went to the office. It was empty. There, however, she could pull out her phone and send him and email without anyone worrying about being photographed. It was her only way of getting in touch with him. He'd check it, or not. He was often surprisingly prompt.

She wasn't the sexiest of the Director's women. She had small breasts, and the Director clearly liked full figured women. But she knew her communications had priority, and her service was valued. She went back to the foyer.

"Well?" Sandy asked. "Will he see me?"

"I am waiting to hear back about when he will arrive. Until then, we will wait," said Catherine.

"You're just putting me off," said Sandy. "He's here. I know it."

Catherine smiled, with effort. Years of acting training helped. "Sandy, I'm doing my best. Trust me, I'd rather be walking around the club than sitting here baby-sitting you, and so would Cliff." She grinned sidelong at him. "His wife is getting fucked, and he can't even go watch." At that point, her phone buzzed.

"Did the Director do something to you, too, like he did to my sister?"

Catherine ignored her. "Well, then, the Director will see you, providing you follow directions."

"What sort of directions?" asked Sandy.

"You need to sign a waiver to be admitted to the club, like everyone else. Then you are to be blindfolded. Cliff and I will walk you to him. We will bounce you from here if there's any attempt to deviate. You will walk as if you are doing so entirely of your own free will, which you will be. You will take your sweater off, and a shirt if you're wearing one, so you look like you at least halfway fit in. You will see the Director, and only the Director."

"You're trying to stop me from seeing my sister."

"You told me that you weren't here to see her," Catherine said icily. "I assumed you were telling the truth. Was I incorrect?"

"No. Okay, let me see the waiver."

Catherine picked up a waiver, which was on a clipboard with a pen, and handed it to her. It was pretty standard stuff. The waiver stipulated that anyone could be removed by the management for any reason, and that the signer agreed that they were of age and consented to watch other people in a state of undress and engaging in adult activities.

While Sandy read it, Catherine entered the club, and got a blindfold from the supply closet. She returned just as Sandy affixed her signature.

"Okay, I'm ready," said Sandy.

Catherine shook her head. "Sweater."

"You're serious about that."

"If you want to see the Director."

Sandy pulled her sweater over her head. She had a T-shirt on underneath.

"Shirt, too," Catherine said.

Sandy sighed. "But everyone will see me."

"I suspect your bra covers as much as a swimsuit top," Catherine said. "No big deal."

Sandy pulled her shirt off, and Catherine wasn't wrong. More, than most swimsuit tops, and it was beige to boot. Catherine put the blindfold on her, and took her hand, guiding her into the club.

As everything went dark, Sandy started to wonder if this was such a good idea. They could do anything with her, really. She was helpless. And after what they'd already turned Julie Ann into. Her sister had become such a slut. She was doing a webcam show twice weeknights, and God only knew what she was doing in the club. Whatever it was, that and the webcam were paying her way more than she had made waitressing, because her clothes had gotten decidedly fancier and much skimpier. She was paying more for less fabric. Surely that alone was a sin.

She'd seen the pictures of her. They always looked so pristine. Grandma always said sex was dirty, but Julie Ann never looked it. She did dress like a slut, though. No, her sister was a slut. And it was Sandy's job to save her, whatever the risk. Even if it meant being seen in her bra. Even if just a little bit of her was turned on by the idea that people were watching her. She resolved to ignore that.

She let herself be led, and eventually guided to a chair. Only when she was seated was the blindfold removed. She found herself seated on the far side of a desk from a very non-descript gentleman. He wasn't the sort of impressive figure that Sandy had expected. His hair was a little gray, and neither quite blond nor brown. His eyes were steel-gray. There was nothing remarkable about his features, although he was athletically built and well-dressed in a tailored suit.

The room was surprisingly clean. The floor wasn't even sticky. She expected something different, a tattered casting couch that smelled, perhaps. Something that showed that this was a dirty place where people had dirty sex.

"You wished to see me," said the Director. "That will be all, Catherine."

Sandy waited for Catherine to leave before speaking. "You've corrupted my sister."

"Julie Ann?"

"Yes."

"She had all those inclinations when I met her. I may have encouraged her a little. Is that what you're here for, to level an accusation? In that case, I'll not waste my time disputing it. I have corrupted your previous perfectly innocent sister, who had not a sexual thought in her mind before encountering me on a day that will live in infamy."

"You're being sarcastic."

"My question was an honest one. Is that what you're here for?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I want you to un-corrupt her. I know you have some sort of power over her. Just... let her go."

"You're asking me to fire her?"

"Stop making her work here."

"I'm not making her. I let her. You want me to stop letting her?"

"Yes."

The Director smiled. "That's ridiculous. Besides, there are a number of strip clubs in the city, and Julie Ann would simply go work for them. Some of them might make her do other things, as well, for the privilege of working for them. She loves to show her body off. It's a beautiful body; she is shaped very much like you." His gaze dropped to her chest, and then back up. He wasn't furtive, but deliberate.

Sandy felt the heat in her cheeks. "This isn't about me."

"Really."

"Stop doing whatever you're doing. She's an upstanding Christian girl. She shouldn't be doing these things."

"Are you a virgin, Sandy?"

Sandy started. "It's none of your business."

"Perhaps, but you're prying into mine, and I thought I'd return the favor. Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

"Of course."

"And how is that going?"

What was he getting at? "Fine. Just fine." It did seem unfair that the righteous didn't have as much fun as the unrighteous. Sometimes she wished she didn't have a libido at all, but she did. It made it all so much harder.

The Director got up and moved to sit on the edge of the desk, so he was mere inches away. She watched him, expecting him to do something menacing, but he just sat there for a moment before he spoke again. "You could have called the club and asked to speak to me over the phone. Why in person?"

Sandy squirmed. "I like to do things in person. It's more professional."

"This isn't a professional errand, Sandy. That explanation won't work." He leaned forward toward her.

"I am going to tell my church what you've done to Julie Ann," said Sandy.

"Curious that you haven't confided already. Will they do an exorcism?"

"That's how we get rid of demons. You're a devil, aren't you?" She made the sign of the cross with her hands.

The director traced the sign by touching her hands with the tip of his finger. "No, Sandy. Sorry to disappoint you." He leaned forward, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. He should have bad breath. He should smell of alcohol. He didn't. His breath was kind of sweet-smelling, actually, like honey. "You won't be talking to your church about this."

Sandy's eyes widened. She was scared now. "What are you going to do to me?"

The Director smiled. "You simply won't be talking to them about this. Are we agreed?"

Of course not. And yet she said, "Yes," and after she said it, she meant it.

"Good, good. Then our business is finished?"

"Yes." She got up. "That's settled, then. I won't tell."

"And you'll go back to living your boring life. You'll go back to living the life you want."

"Um." She didn't know what to say to that. Her boring life. The life she wanted. Something wasn't jiving, and she hesitated. Still she figured it was time to go.

"I'm not letting you leave without a blindfold, Sandy," the Director said. "But you don't want to leave, do you?"

"Huh?" Sandy asked, feeling very confused.

"Come here."

Sandy walked toward the Director, not sure why she did. She was shocked when he kissed her. She pulled back, instinctively. He didn't let her go, and the more she felt his lips the more inclined she was to yield to him. Eventually she opened her mouth to admit his tongue, and the kiss grew longer and deeper. It felt wet. It didn't feel dirty at all.

"Now then, sit down, and tell me only the truth, regardless of what you think I want to hear."

Sandy sat.

"You're not really here to rescue your Sister, are you? You told yourself that, but that's not it. You didn't have to come and face the lion in his den yourself to do that. You couldn't possibly expect that threatening to tell your church would sway me. I already knew that churches, for the most part, are not fond of my club. You came here for something else. Is that true?"

Sandy frowned. "I suppose it is." There was something. She wasn't sure what it was.

"You feel your Sister is controlled by me."

"Yes."

"And you think I have some sort of strange power to control her."

"Yes."

"You think I have some sort of power to control people, in general. Or women, anyway. Like your sister. Like Catherine."

"Yes."

"So it would follow, then, that I would have a power to control you, wouldn't it? And yet you came straight here."

"God will protect me."

"Are you sure about that? Is that why you came? To experience God's protection? To dare Him to catch you with angels while you threw yourself down from the cliff?"

She immediately caught his allusion to the Biblical story of the tempting of Christ. She shook her head. "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God," she said, quoting.

"Quite. So that's not why you came. You wanted an in person meeting with the person who used some strange power to turn your Sister into ... what is the word you'd like to use?"

"A slut."

"Good. You wanted to have an in-person meeting with someone who you believed could turn a woman into a slut through use of his power, and you chose to have that meeting in the place where he would hold all the cards. A reasonable person would think that you wanted something to happen."

She was sweating now. She refused to think about it. "No."

"You're jealous of your sister, aren't you, Sandy? She's happy, and carefree, and likes her body and her life. You wish you had that."

"No."

"You're not telling the truth. I directed you to tell the truth."

She didn't dare say anything.

"I could be wrong. You might be about to get up and leave, right now. I pushed a button on my desk while you weren't looking, and Catherine is right outside, in the anteroom, with the blindfold. There's a door from that room that leads to a glory hole. Do you know what a glory hole is?"

She was ashamed she knew, but she did. "Yes."

"Ours are special. They are fitted with cameras, so the entire club can see the girl giving blowjobs, even though she doesn't know who she is giving them too. The sort of woman who wants that is rare, perhaps, but there are enough that the stations are generally fully staffed. Those are the kind of people who come here, Sandy. As you came here."

"No." Was he going to make her do that? She was horrified. She was also suddenly tingling between her legs, and her panties were wet.

"I don't read minds, Sandy, but I am perceptive and I read body language very well. I have a good idea what you're feeling right now. But I give you a choice. You may leave the room, right now. Go. Never come back. You will never be permitted here again, and I will never see you again. You will be totally free from my power, and I will give your sister the same option. Although I'm sure she won't take it. Or..."

"Or what?"

"Or you can take the rest of your clothes off right now and admit what you came here for. You are free to do whichever you wish."

She stood up. "I'm leaving." He wasn't going to make her stay? He wasn't going to make her take her clothes off? Why was she disappointed?

"But Sandy."

"Hmm?" She turned back, thinking that the decision to look back was a little like the choice of Lot's wife, who was turned into a pillar of slut. Salt. Salt, not slut.

"I would please me very much if you chose to stay. I would enjoy seeing your body."

Why the hell should that matter? She reached for the knob and stopped. She'd be disappointing him if she left. She didn't know why she cared. She didn't really want to leave, though. She wanted him to make her stay. Make her strip. Make her want to -- oh, she shouldn't even think about it.