The Scoop

Bill Kearns sat patiently awaiting his informant, downing another drink on expenses. This had been a very productive partnership so far, bringing several of his top stories to the newspaper. The stories had received much publicity for him and brought quite some heat down on the paper. The accounts had been a collection of salacious tales of local businesswomen and how they earned their positions of power.

His tip-offs had come from a member of the local men's rights group who had risen in notoriety and a position of some strength before the humiliation of their leader had dragged scorn upon them. Most of the group had scattered to disassociate themselves from the ridicule but some of the hard-liners had regrouped and were determined to get revenge on the culprits.

Bill knew his stories had hit a raw nerve by the cold shoulder he now received from his female co-workers and the combative attitude of his fellow headliner Sam Murray. It was Sam who had written the expose on Kevin Ordish, the leader that had brought the group to its knees and she knew Bill was out for retribution.

Each team meeting would deteriorate into a verbal slanging match almost always split down the gender divide. To Sam's eternal anger the editor would side with Bill citing the rise in readership and sales following each of his revelations and she would have to pass by Bill's desk as smiled smugly at her.

Bill rubbed his hands with glee when he received his latest text for a meeting and darted out of the office under the watchful eye of Sam. The added bonus of bringing her down a peg or two was priceless but also there was the upcoming vacancy of the head editor of the paper. After forty years in the job Terry Owens had called it a day and now sat counting down the days to his retirement.

Although the job would be advertised it almost certainly would be a shootout between Bill and Sam, either of them would be the youngest editor in the history of the paper. One more grand headline could be the cherry on the cake for Bill and a knife in the chest for Sam. As the crumpled figure entered the bar Bill smiled to himself, he shoots, and he scores.

Vinnie had been one of the prime runners of the men's group until its demise and he held a personal grudge against all the women involved. By the grin on his face Bill

knew this could be just what he was hoping for, "Afternoon, mines a pint."

Bill waved the barman's attention, "one more." Edging the newly arrived pint towards his accomplice Bill leaned in, "Well what do you have for me? and please no more bollocks about 'Inanna.'

"Inanna is fucking real and one of these days I will bring you the proof of it," he snapped angrily about his prime conspiracy story. Taking a long slow gulp of lager Vinnie leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly, "do this right and we will fucking finish them." After a belch, he pushed a white card towards Bill.

Turning the card in his hand Bill perused the card front and back, the only information was an address and a company logo 'Madames.' "What's this?"

"That's a private club for ladies only," Vinnie leaned in close so Bill could smell more than just alcohol on his breath.

Bill waited patiently for more as Vinnie returned to his drink, "I really hope there's more to come."

"Oh, you bet there's more," Vinnie's yellow teeth flashed as he sneered. " The only men allowed in are the bar staff and then only if they fit the bill if you know what I mean."

By the leer, Vinnie gave him Bill guessed what that meant, "yes but there still plenty of men's clubs that have scantily clad barmaids."

"Oh really, that you can do or say whatever you like to them and they can't complain." His pint slammed on the table to emphasize his point splashing lager across Bill's paper, "shut up and take it." The humor had dropped from Vinnie's face, "no way you'd be able to treat any female staff like that anymore."

Now Bill's attention had been roused, "are you totally sure about all this."

"One hundred percent, we've got a lad working in there." The lascivious smile had returned to Vinnies face, "he tells us things would turn your hair white." Pulling his chair up close to Bill, "plus the members are very interesting."

For once Bill didn't mind the bad breath, "how do you mean?"

"I've done little reconnaissance myself and seen some very familiar faces entering that place," his eyebrows lifted mockingly. Vinnie finished off his pint and rose, "I'll leave it with you and I'm sure you'll be in touch."

The scruffy figure disappeared through the doors as Bill toyed with the card, his eyes darted over the address, might be a nice excuse for a walk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The address was in the more upmarket part of town, mainly office buildings and apartments. This was the hub of the business sector, not the obvious place to find a feminist strip joint. The building itself was very unassuming, just one in a row of large wooden doors identified only by the brass plates on the front.

Bill scrutinized the plaques as he slowly strolled along the street, various solicitors, tailors, investment management, private men's club and quietly located in the middle 'Madames.' Crossing over Bill took a look at the facing building hoping to locate a for rent sign, finding one almost adjacent he jotted down the name and phone number.

After hiring out of the office, Bill perceived a week's solid surveillance should gain enough knowledge on whether to continue the enterprise. At the least he would have gained the names of some of the members and if they were important enough to sell the story.

Bill hired one of the paper's freelance photographers to watch the building and to daily send him pictures of all visitors to the club. Located in the office opposite he snapped at every lady who came and went through those doors, not knowing or caring about the who or why. His payment as had been the case in previous work with Bill was cash in hand, definitely not through the newspaper's books.

As the days went by and the photos stacked up in his inbox Bill grew increasingly excited. The faces had started as unknown office workers to quickly seeing high movers and shakers appear. If what Vinnie had told him about what happened on the inside was true Bill knew he had a real story to drop.

When several high-ranked council officials appeared Bill could barely conceal his glee, this story would seal his promotion. When he didn't think it could improve any higher, he opened up a photo of his arch nemesis Sam Murray leaving the club, two birds with one stone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vinnie sat smugly at the bar awaiting Bill, waving him over as he entered. "Knew you'd be calling soon."

Ordering their drinks Bill maneuvered them to a side table, "well you were right about the members."

"I told you," Vinnie sniggered to himself. "Going to be fun bring all those bitches down."

"Certainly will but we need hard evidence from the inside," Bill leaned in to whisper. "Will your man take some video or photos of what goes on in there?"

"Nope," Vinnie slumped back in his chair. "Already asked him, no can do."

"But we have to have some real evidence or there's no story," Bill angrily snapped.

"Look the costumes they wear are so fucking tight you can't hide anything in them and on weekends all they wear is a tiny thong." Vinnie pulled a disdained face at the thought.

"Well, we're fucked without it," angrily slamming down his drink. Bill threw up his hands in despair, "we need proof."

"We're not totally fucked mate," Vinnie grinned back at him. "They do have their own in-house camera system, the lad's seen it."

Bill's face lit up at the news, "they fucking film it all, stupid bitches."

Vinnie joined him in his revelry, "superior species my arse."

"Tell your lad to swipe one of the tapes and we're good to go," Bill clapped his hands in delight.

"Ah no can do, we've asked he won't." Vinnie pulled a disappointed shrug.

"Why the fuck not," Bill's voice raised in anger bringing some unwanted attention to their table.

"Because they'll know he did it and he's heard stories of what happens to anyone who turns on them." Vinnie downed his pint, "point blank won't do it."

Bill slumped despairingly into his chair and stared dejectedly into his pint, "Fuck."

"We're not totally finished, he does know the layout of the building and where the tapes are kept." Vinnie leaned in grinning, "depends how hard you want them."

Bill lurched forward, "you mean to break in and steal them." "Would you be up for that?"

"Not me mate, we." The grin on Vinnie's face grew, "if we do this it's together or not at all."

"You can't think that I'd get involved in the robbery," Bill feigned shock at the suggestion.

"Up to you mate," Vinnie rose and buttoned up his coat. "Call me when you've grown a pair."

Bill sat stunned as he watched him leave, incredulous at the idea of being an accomplice to a crime and angry at losing the story so close to his victory.

Returning to work Bill threw his coat onto his chair and dropped into it with a loud exhale of breath. A week's work down the drain with nothing real to show for it, he wanted to scream.

"Jesus you really are a dinosaur," Sam Murray swished past Bill's desk. "You finally turn up and you stink of booze." Her distinctive perfume broke through the swathe of aftershave and deodorant of his enclave, that sweet sickly scent now lodged in his memory.

Watching her smirking back at him as she gracefully weaved her way through the desks boiled his anger. Looking up at her Bill silently seethed and reached for his phone, "when!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A cold wet Thursday night awaited them, Vinnie's plant had given them the best place to enter via a rear window. The location of the alarm and how to disable it quickly and most importantly where to find the tapes. Both of them huddled in a darkened doorway with a clear view of the premises.

They counted out the staff as they left, the four lads working that night left first. Then came the four ladies on duty that night, the last the burly doorwomen who locked up. As they moved away in their cars, the two men made their exit and walked stealthily to the side street.

Clambering over an iron gate Bill swore as he came down hard on the wet concrete floor and stumbled after Vinnie. "This is the window, now hide your face," Vinnie pulled down his balaclava as he motioned to Bill to copy.

As Bill pulled the woolen mask down he heard the smash of the glass and the loud ringing of the alarm broke the night air. Vinnie pulled open the window and disappeared through the opening into the darkness, Bill followed quickly. Bill tried in vain to find his way as his eyes attempted to adjust to the dark, the constant throbbing of the alarm disconcerting him.

Suddenly the noise ended and Bill froze in total silence, "Vinnie." His voice whispered scared into the dark. A tap on his shoulder made him leap, "fuck sake, you'll give me a heart attack."

Vinnie's grinning face loomed towards him, "come on shithouse, we're in." As they walked into the main room Vinnie switched on the main light, the large area now an eerie ghost town. "Through here."

Bill followed him through a side door into a small room filled with CCTV cameras and cabinets. Bill turned off the machine and removed the night recording, "just in case."

Vinnie broke open a metal draw with a crowbar and revealed the racks of collected tapes. "Oh, this is what we came for."

"Try to find last weeks, I know who was here on Wednesday and those would be dynamite." Bill filled his bag with various tapes as Vinnie perused the dates on the cassette covers.

Vinnie flung a handful into the sack, "just take the whole week's recordings."

"Come on, that's enough. Let's get out of here." Bill made his way to the door and beckoned Vinnie.

Tipping out the drawers into his sack, "You've got yours, now these are for my own plans." Vinnie emptied out the drawers and zipped up his bag, "I'm sure they'll pay good money for these to not go public."

"Let's just get out of here, before anyone checks on that alarm." Bill fidgeted in the doorway, waving frantically towards Vinnie. As he turned a dull thud reverberated in his skull, the room went black and he felt his body slump. The taste of a hard wooden floor was the last sense his body took in before he passed into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Bill awoke to a throbbing intense pain emanating from the back of his head and a rancid taste of rubber in his throat. Trying to speak he grunted nonsensically into the large ball gag forced in his mouth, his drool dripping down his chin. As he tried to rise he realized his hands and feet had been bound and he was fixed over a hard surface pressing against his chest.

As he struggled in vain, a noise to his right made him crane his neck around. It was then that he found out what had happened to his accomplice and understood his own predicament. Vinnie was bent naked over the club bar, his hands fixed behind the serving side and his feet secured on the other.

Vinnie seemed to have been awake for longer than Bill and he rocked violently trying to loosen his ties. His pitiful groans filled the cavernous main room and a pool of spit grew beneath his face. The only item of clothing that had been left on them was their balaclavas, the wool making Bill's face sweat as he squirmed.

As they locked eyes on each other, their attempts to speak grew louder and more incomprehensible. Their stifled grunts grew silent as they both heard the clicking of footsteps come closer.

"Well what do we have here," a cool calm female voice broke the silence.

Both of the men strained to turn their heads to see their captor, screaming into their gags.

A sharp whipping sound was quickly followed by Vinnie's high-pitched squeal as the footsteps grew closer to Bill. An intense pain flashed across his bare buttock and he cried out in agony.

As she stepped behind Bill another swish sound was quickly followed by an intense pain on his bare behind and his whole body tensed against it. As his body recoiled it became apparent that a foreign object had been placed in his anus, the discomfort of the ties having taken the attention away from it before.

The stinging throb of his buttock now echoed the growing pain from his body tightening around the object and bill desperately tried to push the intruder out.

The unknown assailant forced the plug back in deep, "don't you dare try to push that out." Her calm confident tone teased his ears, "it'll only be replaced by something bigger." Another whip from the cane brought a whimper from Bill, "now behave yourself."

The footsteps now circled the men before walking behind the bar to face them, "My name is Miss Angelica and I am the proprietor of this establishment." She placed the instrument of their sore behinds on the counter, a long black wooden cane.

Both men peered up from their locked position to the strikingly tall woman before them, unable to question their fate. She was dressed in a grey tight-fitting business suit with her blonde hair pulled tight into a bun and she tapped her black leather gloved fingers on the bar.

"Now I take the breaking and entering and the attempted robbery of my premises very seriously indeed." Her stern unflinching stare confirmed her statement, "the question is, how should we go forward?"

Both men looked at each other wide-eyed, hoping for the first time of seeing a way of escaping a jail sentence and the end of their careers.

"I could ring 999 right now and ask for the police," she toyed her fingers over the telephone. "Or you could agree to take your rightful punishment right here right now and go back to your mundane little lives having learned a valuable lesson."

Both men screamed their response with all their might, spittle flying through their ball gag.

"Oh I'm sorry, what was that?" Miss Angelica smirked down at the beleaguered figures before her. With a clap of her hands, another pair of heels clicked closer behind them and Bill watched a red-fingernailed hand remove the balaclava and reveal Vinnie.

"Oh my, I think you looked better with it on." Her remark drew a low hum of laughter from behind and they both realized they were not alone. The hand then slipped off the ball gag.

"You fucking bitches, you'll fucking pay for this." Vinnie spat his drool out as he yelled furiously.

Miss Angelica quietened him with two sharp slaps across his face, reddening his cheeks immediately. "Is that a yes or no little man?"

Vinnie's face grew rouge with anger as he bit down on his words, replying only with a muffled grunt.

"Sorry, what was that?" Miss Angelica raised his face with a tight grip to look into his eyes. "Was that yes I want to be punished for my heinous act or No please call the police so I can be arrested."

"Yes," Vinnie whispered his reply through gritted teeth. His eyes watered in pent-up frustration as his bottled-up anger rose to boiling point.

"Good boy," she patted him on the head like a little dog and turned her attention to Bill. Miss Angelica strode purposely towards him, smirked, and clapped her hands.

The cold fingers removed his hot wooden headgear and the cool air from a fan washed against him. Then swiftly untied his gag letting his drool slip to the bar, taking in deep gulps of breath. Bill didn't need time to think about the question, this would be the end of his career if he was arrested. His mind was made up immediately and he nodded his answer before she asked.

"Good Boys, using your intelligence for once." Miss Angelica picked up her cane and tapped it against her tight skirt as she spoke, "now it's rather obvious why you came here and what you planned to do with your ill-begotten wears." She tapped Vinnie hard on the head with the cane, "yours I'm sure would be blackmail, you grubby little man."

She turned to Bill with an equally hard tap, "and you Mr. Kearns for yet another anti-female story to bring us, ladies, down." Miss Angelica leaned down close to his face, "so sorry to disappoint you but I'm sure Miss Murray will be a much better fit for the position of the new editor."

Bill's face dropped to the glass surface at the recognition of his identity and the knowledge of all his plans going up in smoke. His attention was awoken by a large black wooden paddle being dropped by his face on the bar.

"Now I think it's only appropriate that the ladies you wished to destroy get some semblance of retribution, so I have invited them back here tonight." Miss Angelica waved towards the darkness behind the stricken men and a loud murmur of voices arose.

Footsteps and whispers approached as both men train in vain to crane their necks to see, the identities and numbers of the ladies unbeknownst. The paddle was removed from the bar and the recipient teased it against Vinnie's flabby posterior.

"I want to hear you repeat the words, 'Thank you I deserved that' after every strike." Miss Angelica looked deeply into their souls, her cold grey eyes showing no emotion. "Nice and loud now."

"No fucking way," Vinnie spat his answer in anger as he tried to wriggle away from the cold paddle brushing against him.

A hard slap with the back of Miss Angelica's hand brought silence back to Vinnie, "Silly boy." A devilish smirk progressed across her cold features, "every lady gets a turn but she only stops after she gets to hear those words." "In other words, it's totally up to you how many you receive tonight and how painful this is going to be."

Vinnie knew he was in a no-win situation and as much as he wanted to slap that smirk off her face, any fight was doomed to failure. Begrudgingly he nodded his acceptance of his fate and tensed awaiting the inevitable pain.