The Stanger

"Where to begin?" I said. The other hand left the armrest and I placed it on top of my lap. My fingers played over the hem of my skirt, not quite grasping but lifting it further still. The other went down to the fourth button and stopped. This is it, anything to sell. I tore my gaze away from Rick, desperate to get a hold of myself. I failed miserably.

I gasped again when I looked past his head. At the window in the door two heads looked back at me. Peter and Sabrina. Sabrina's face was flushed and Peter was behind her. They both could see the show I was putting on and it was obvious Peter had one hand down the front of Sabrina's shirt.

Risk saw where I was looking and turned around. Peter and Sabrina saw him and before they could duck down he spoke. "You two. Lock the hallway door and get back to the window. You," he said and turned back to me.

"Yes, Master," I said. I don't know why I called him that, it just came out. My vision went white and seconds later I had forgotten what I had seen.

"The house, please," said Rick. He was facing me, hands folded and waiting patiently.

"The house, yes," I said. One hand bunched up the fabric of my skirt, the other gently undid the fourth button. I was exposed now, the red flush of my skin extending from my face to the top of my stomach. "It's very big," I said and laughed nervously.

"How big is it, miss?" he said. One hand came up to his chin and the other offered me a handkerchief. "You look hot, use this."

"Thanks," I said and took it. As soon as I touched it, I knew what it was. Sabrina's panties. I flushed even deeper and started to rise.

"It's fine, just use it," said Rick.

I lost my inhibitions. I brought the silky cloth to my face and damped away the sweat, following the small trail of sweat down my chest and stopped at the top of my bra. Anything, the voice came again. I lifted the cup off my breast and used the other hand to wipe myself down, doing a thorough job and stopping for a moment to caress my nipples. They stuck out, erect and demanding attention. I tweaked one and groaned; all sense of professionalism and salesmanship gone.

"Do you need a moment to breath?" asked Rick.

"No, l-lets continue," I stuttered.

Anything.

My hands continued down my chest, stopping at the last two buttons holding my blouse together. Why not. One hand still clenched the panties and the other grasped the button. My eyes locked with Rick, eager to please him, eager to do anything to make him happy.

The next button came undone, my belly was fully exposed. Still I continued on to the last one. I started fighting against the currents pulling against my mind.

Anything.

I was overwhelmed. The last button came undone, my firm white stomach open to the cravings of Rick's eyes. I moaned, the sweat soaked panties coming up to my mouth. I stuffed them inside, delighted as the heady scent of woman filled my nostrils and dripped down my throat. My hands, free to explore, went to my breasts. I flicked my nipples underneath the sheer fabric of my bra, making them become even more erect.

Rick licked his lips, a gesture lost on me as I closed my eyes and groaned. If I had them open, I would have run screaming out of the room. His tongue was long, forked, and his eyes flickered yellow. The tongue drank up the scent in the air, capturing the essence of my lust.

I drifted further down in the chair, one hand going under the bra and the other between my legs. A quick flick up and my left breast was exposed. The small pink nipple shrunk up in the cool air, my fingers brushing it and pinching it with delicate force. I moaned, solid and long.

My other hand, between my legs, rubbed the outside of my panties. They were soaked, the effect of a previous now forgotten climax. I slipped a finger underneath.

I kept shaved, even though I had no love interest for far too long. The wetness made me slippery and I moaned again as a finger brushed my clit. I kept a few vibrators at home, but even those were nothing compared to the rapture I was feeling now. A second finger joined the first, both circling my zone, creating a roller coaster effect that was building.

Anything.

I gasped at the voice; it stole away my identity, my freedom of thought, and my dignity. But I didn't care. I continued to rub myself. I flicked up the other side of my bra and brought both hands down to my dripping pussy. I pushed the panties aside, everything forgotten as I focused on the feelings. One finger went inside, the other hand continued to rub my clit. I was building fast, ready to explode.

I was lost in my own bliss, forgetting Rick and anyone watching outside the window. As I reached my climax, Rick jumped to his feet, racing to my side. I foolishly ignored him as I came, hard.

My screams surely had to be noticed in the office, but no one cared. Rick was beside me, tongue flicking and drinking in my pleasure. His eyes were yellow and dead, but when he captured my desire they turned black, black as the night, black as Satan's own darkness.

I slumped in the chair, spent and exhausted as I had never been before. Rick stood above me.

"Clean up, put on your clothes, and forget this ever happened," he said.

"Yes, Master," I croaked.

Rick turned to the door, Peter and Sabrina watching with glazed over eyes. He chuckled. "I'm going to love working here." He laughed, loud and crude as he went out the door.

"Damn it, where the hell am I?" Driving in Downtown Chicago afternoon traffic was daunting even for the natives, let alone a country boy from fifty miles north of Spokane.

Tanner Browning had never wanted to go to the Midwest. He never even wanted to leave the ranch and extended family behind, but circumstances dictated against those wishes. For eight years after the death of his wife, Isabel, he had been on the search for the thing that killed her and ruined his life. Across the forty-eight contiguous states and even up to Canada he had traveled. Always looking, searching, for signs of the beast.

The last clue had come from a dying husk of a man found in a public restroom in Texas near the Mexican border. The man hadn't been able to speak, but one hand clutched a scrap of paper, part of a boarding pass that left two days ago to Chicago.

The thing had messed up. Usually he was neat, using his wealth and influence to buy businesses dirt cheap and using the client base as its feeding grounds. Real estate was its main gig, and after several deaths he would sell the business and move on. This time, though, it had gotten hungry, too hungry.

Tanner knew what it fed on, sex and the psychic power that came with sex. He had never witnessed it but knew it didn't have to kill; it just liked to. The man he found was probably a passing bum, looking for a quick buck in the dirty public stalls. Instead he found a not so unpleasant death.

"Michigan Avenue? How'd I get here?" he asked himself. A taxi blared its horn, trying to get past the slowing truck. Tanner sped up, not wanting to cause notice or trouble. Eventually the street narrowed and he took a turn east towards Lake Michigan.

"This looks promising," he said as he saw a sign for a real estate office. It was a good enough place to start his search as any, and even if it wasn't he could see about renting a condo for a while. His wife's insurance money was running out but it should last for another year. The thing usually stayed in one place for that long anyways.

Beachside Inc., he thought when he saw the sign. Sounds lovely. He found a parking spot, hard to do in most places Downtown, and walked to the building's entrance. Beachside Inc. was on the third floor and he ran easily up the stairs, neglecting the elevator out of fears for safety. The entrance was on the top of the stairwell and he opened it.

"Welcome to Beachside Inc., I'm Sabrina, may I help you?" said the young woman from a desk facing the door.

Good looking, thought Tanner. "Hey, I'm looking to rent a condo, could you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure, sir. Right this way," the young woman, girl really, said and stood up. Her black hair bounced when she turned and he couldn't help from checking out her assets when she couldn't notice.

Not too bad at all, hope she stays safe.

"Cindy, is Stacey available? We have a potential client," she asked a slim Asian woman in an office, two doors behind Sabrina's desk.

"Should be, lunch ended a few minutes ago. Lead him on back," she said and looked appreciatively at Tanner.

Tanner had a rugged handsomeness about him. He was tall, from fourth generation rancher stock on his father's side. He had a short but full beard, wavy brown hair, and green eyes that missed nothing. He wore jeans and a v-neck shirt that showed off his massive physique; broad shoulders and a thin waist. A matting of chest hair peeked out and his huge work-scarred hands waited patiently behind his back.

Sabrina turned and smiled. "Come with me, Stacey's the best. What was your name, by the way?"

"Tanner, Tanner Browning."

"Good to meet you. Where you coming from?"

"Washington, by way of Texas. You worked here long?"

"No, just an intern for the summer. Well, here we are," she said and knocked on the door. It was at the end of the hallway and had the most ornate door of all nine offices. Tanner's heart sank, if this Stacey had the biggest office, then she must be the boss. Strike-one for finding the thing.

"Stacey? New client, Tanner Browning," Sabrina said and opened the door. Tanner's heart leapt in his chest when he saw her. Isabel.

"Hello, nice to meet you, Tanner," I said and came to the other side of my desk. He was handsome, almost too handsome. He obviously kept in shape and by the smell of him had been either out for a long ride in the countryside or cutting firewood. As soon as I smelled the man-scent on him my legs took to shaking.

"H-Hello, Stacey. Nice office you have here," he said. His voice was low and intense, the kind you would hear on late night radio stations.

I took his proffered hand, big and rough, and shook it. We looked at each other, staring, daring the other to speak first. Sabrina broke the silence.

"Excuse me, I'll just step out now," she said, giving me a girly smile.

I ignored her, focusing on the new client in front of me.

Anything.

"Please, take a seat," I managed to get out. Tanner moved across the room, brushing by me as I let one hand caress his arm.

"What can I do for you, Tanner?" I asked, I took a seat next to him, not wanting to go behind my desk.

"Looking for a condo, something nearby."

"Ok, we have plenty of lake-front condos, do you want a view?"

"No, not that interested in the view, something private and out of the way would be nice."

Private. My mind twitched, memories of an uncertain past. "Private. We have some a few miles northwest that would be perfect. Out of the traffic and close enough to ride a bike Downtown."

"Sounds good, what kind of price we talking?"

"Most go for around two to three thousand a month, would that work?" I saw his face fall and my heart broke. He didn't look that well off, but I was used to dealing with people who came to Chicago expecting to rent a place for peanuts. "Of course we do have a few more a bit further away in the fifteen hundred range. If that's more your style," I said.

"Uh, nothing in the six to seven hundred range I take it?" Tanner's face fell, knowing the answer.

"Sorry, but if you're expecting to rent a place in Chicago for that price, well, the Southside might be your best option."

"The Southside? That a good neighborhood?"

Oh, sweetie. "No, it was a joke. A lame one at that. You might last a day down there, if you keep your face hidden," I told him.

"Oh," he said.

Something about him struck me as honest. Pure and noble, like a ray of sun after a storm. You shouldn't be doing this, I thought. "Tell you what," I spoke before I could talk myself out of it. "Meet me for dinner tonight. Six o'clock. There's a blues bar not far from here, we can talk more about it and see if we can't find you something," I said and reached for a pen across the desk.

His face brightened and the ray of sunshine grew stronger. I handed him the address, hoping he would show up.

"Hey, thanks," he said and looked at it carefully before putting it in his pocket. "Guess I better get going then. Sorry for taking up your time."

I have all the time in the world for you, I wanted to say. "Not a problem, have a great day, Tanner."

He left my office and his scent with him. Behind me, the office's private bathroom door opened and I froze. A familiar tantalizing odor stronger than Tanner's filled me, sending me headlong into a spiral of longing.

"Good," said Rick. His voice was a caress in my ear, honey on my fingers. I shuddered and brought a hand down to my slit, my wetness soaking through and spilling over without a chance of resistance.

"I have felt him following me for too long. Go to him tonight. Here is what you'll do."

Rick whispered in my ear, his instructions burning deep inside. I wanted to resist, tried to resist, but I was helpless in his grasp.

"Yes, Master," I said and then the blackness took me.

Tanner pulled into the motel. It wasn't the best; several miles from Downtown, a bit dilapidated and next to a busy road. The guy at the gas station assured him it was his safest bet. Coming from the rest of the US, he really hated traveling around the big cities the most. They were busy, rushed, and for all of their speech about equal rights and the oneness of man, some of the worst places to live. That, and the state of Illinois hated guns with a passion.

The problem was, when Tucker found the thing, he was going to kill it. Rather than face the potential of years in jail in Illinois, he had left his guns in Texas. He whistled when he came out of the shower. He was freshly shaved and had a towel wrapped around his waist. The hair on his chest was slightly matted and damp but a quick run through with the towel left him dry and fuzzy.

He looked at the bed, ready to get dressed. First was the underwear, nothing fancy, just a black pair of silky boxer briefs. The next was more difficult to decide. While Illinois did have draconian laws on guns, their knife laws were rather tame by comparison; as long as the blade was less than three inches.

"Stupid piece of crap," Tanner said, holding a 'legal' knife up to inspect. It had a locking blade and it was under three inches, but it was dwarfed in his hands. He threw it aside and picked up the next one. It was six inches long, a full tang Hen and Rooster imported from Germany. Its black walnut and brass handle glimmered in the light, proof of its workmanship and the care he had shown it. The blade was not original, however. He had seen a silversmith who had coated it in a thin sheet of sterling. If, for some reason, the damn thing was what he thought it was, it might be the difference between life and death. It was the last present his wife had gotten him for their anniversary, and the first thing he wanted to plunge in the heart of the thing, if it had a heart.

When he picked it up, he thought of his wife, then thought of Stacey. So much like her. The natural red hair, soft blue eyes, a small patch of freckles on the top of each cheek. Hell, I bet even her nipples are the same, he thought. Isabel's nipples used to be pink and tiny. Blending in to the soft white skin of her breasts.

She even smelled the same. Tanner inhaled deeply, savoring the scent that still lingered in the back of his nose. His cock jumped up, eager and rising in his underwear. It had been a while since he had slept with a woman. The last was over a year ago; a quick dirty fling in Wyoming with a cowgirl who took pity on him after a rough night of drinking.

"Whoa there, boy," he said and tucked himself back in. His wife always told him he had a nice cock, too bad he hadn't had much of a chance to use it for eight years.

He took the knife and strapped it to his right calf. It would be the best place to conceal it for an emergency. His socks went on next, then his jeans. They were new, picked up from Downtown Chicago at a store whose name he couldn't even pronounce. The clerk told him they would look great on him, but he wasn't so sure at first. Jeans were supposed to be working garb, not the well fitted and slightly distressed ones in the window. When he tried them on, though, they fit like a glove and looked as good as the hundred dollar price tag on the back. The shirt was from the same store; a blue fitted long sleeve deal with a narrow collar and cuffs that could actually fit around his wrists. He had to admit, the guy who sold it to him knew what he was talking about.

Finished, he ran to the bathroom to put a dab of pomade in his palm. He rubbed his hands together then quickly through his hair, giving him that distressed look females seemed to love.

"Hey good lookin'" he said. He grabbed his wallet and phone, running out side to hail down a taxi and meet with lady luck.

Where is he, I thought. I felt foolish standing out on the sidewalk while couple after couple strolled by. I really wanted to meet him again. Something about him made me feel like I had caught a life vest, thrown out of a ship by a tall rough savior in the midst of a stormy sea. I yearned for him like I had no other, desiring him with every last breath I was drawing. I give up. It was half past six and the late summer sun was getting lower in the sky. I pulled at my black skirt, smoothing it down. I took out my mirror next and checked my makeup, rubbing my lips together to make the lipstick spread more evenly. I was wearing a red blouse today and hoped it didn't clash with my hair.

"Hey, Stacey," a familiar voice called from the curb. It was Tanner. "Sorry I'm late. Got caught in traffic. Here you are," he turned and gave the cabbie his fare, plus a generous tip.

"Hi, didn't think you were going to show," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and not full of the relief I wanted to show.

"Thanks for waiting. Hope they got something to eat, lunch was a cold ham sandwich from a gas station," he said and made a face.

I laughed. "The best ribs in Chicago. Unless you're a vegetarian?" Not likely.

"No, I like my meat," he said and reached my side. He gave me a quick peck on each cheek. I had to put on the brakes from turning into it and tearing him apart.

"Me too, want to get a seat?"

"Show me the way."

We turned into the alley leading to the restaurant and blues bar. It was one of those well-known but well-hidden places the locals visited. An occasional tourist or out of towner walked in every so often, but for the most part it was a family affair. Tanner held the door open for me, a true gentleman in every sense of the word.

"Evenin' Stacey. The usual spot?" Jayden said when we walked in. He was the host every time I came, usually with my coworkers. At over six foot five and with the build of a professional athlete, he also served as bouncer if someone had too much to drink. His ebony skin blended into the darkened room. Soft music from some corner drifted towards us, luring, urging us inside. The tables all had candles, no bright fluorescents here.

"I think we'll take a table in the back tonight, Jayden," I said.

"Sure thing Miss Stacey," he said and gave Tanner a conspicuous wink.

He led us to the back, away from the stage where they were setting up and opposite the kitchen which was busy bringing out the first trays of food for the evening. One of the booths was open, a circular table that opened to the floor and offered a view of the stage. A curtain on a rod above could cut that view off, offering privacy to those inside. We took our seats, Tanner with his back to the entry and me facing it.