TRANCE, Inc. 20

"Former girlfriend," the principal said, lifting one finger in correction. "And please don't belabor the point. If you have business for me then we'll talk. If not..." Clayton shrugged and a hint of his wolfish smile showed on his face. "My friends the Lunari brothers will have to be rough when they escort you from the premises of my academy."

I glanced past him towards the two shadowy figures. One of them was the shaggy, dark-haired thug who had fetched me and Terra. The other was an even taller man, less husky, with straight blonde hair down to his shoulders that glinted gold in the firelight.

Lunari, I thought. Why does that name ring a bell? But I brushed the question aside. "I have business for you," I told Clayton, shifting in my seat. "An opportunity that you'll want to hear. But first, I need to know that Amber is safe and nearby."

The other man watched me quietly for a moment, his face almost unnaturally still. Then, he nodded ever so slightly. "I see you're serious," he agreed. "In that case, our dear Amber is quite nearby. She is downstairs in one of our lounges, getting to know Mr. Morrison a little bit better."

His tone stayed dry and even, but I could tell what he meant.

My lips wrestled with a frown, and I tried not to think about Amber's gorgeous, naked body being wantonly used for the pleasure of another man. I coughed quietly, took a deep breath, and then nodded. "Alright," I said. "So long as she's here and safe, I'll show you what I brought to trade. Then, I'll tell you what we're going to do."

Clayton's eyebrows twitched a little closer together, and I could tell he wanted to frown at my tone. Instead, though, he gestured for me to go on.

My hand was already sliding into my pocket. I paused. I hope I'm right, I thought. Then, I pulled my hand free. Nestled in my palm, shadows flickering across the chunky plastic casing, was a familiar, lime green USB drive.

It was the very same drive, in fact, that I'd stolen from Mike Lassiter all that time ago. Back when everything began. Terra and I had stopped at my apartment on our way here, just long enough for me to dash upstairs and retrieve it.

The principal looked confused. "What's that?" he asked, looking interested in spite of himself.

"This," I said, lifting it between two fingers and turning it so it caught the firelight. "This is your golden ticket, Mr. Clayton. This is the key to the chains that are linking you to TRANCE, Inc.." I stared into his face, and I felt the deep conviction of my words reverberate in my chest. "Most important, this is the thing that's going to make sure you never come near me or mine ever again."

* * *

I hadn't always intended to give Clayton the drive. In fact, I hadn't been totally sure that Clayton would even want it until I'd sat down in front of the man and said my piece. But, when he told me that Amber and Morrison were getting it on somewhere in the Academy, everything snapped into place in my mind. My hazy suspicions had been justified.

It was clear to me now that Mr. Morrison was to Clayton what Seth had been to Shrike. A client. But, I'd originally wondered, if Amber had already been programmed and trained by TRANCE, then what could Clayton possibly be doing for Morrison that Shrike hadn't? In other words, why didn't Morrison go to TRANCE directly?

That was when it had struck me.

Clayton... was me.

Clayton's school was what amounted to a quality control agent for TRANCE, an independent entity that existed to turn run-of-the-mill, mind controlled pornstars into high-society arm candy. Seth didn't care that the twins still had an online footprint of dozens of videos. He probably got off on it. But the mysterious Mr. Morrison? I could imagine what that sort of man would want.

He would want more than just a hypnotized bimbo sextoy. He would want someone with an air of refinement and style. Someone who would be exactly what he wanted, inside the bedroom and out. Someone who be perfectly at ease when he took her to fancy charity dinners or company events. Someone who would be just as comfortable on her back in bed or kneeling under his desk at the office. In other words, Mr. Morrison wanted the services of a finishing school. A very special kind of finishing school: the Brighton Barnsworth Academy.

Even though I'd spent less than five minutes in his company, I could tell that Clayton had something Shrike lacked. In his movements, his bearing, his style and even his voice, Clayton commanded attention and respect. There was a draw to him, an authority that was almost aristocratic. And I could already tell he was a driven, ambitious man, the kind of person who wouldn't rely on others to get the job done but would rather take it all on himself... and succeed.

So, why would Clayton rely on Shrike? Why had he spent — according to Lassiter — quite a lot of money to purchase Amber from TRANCE, Inc.?

Because Clayton didn't have the necessary technology to completely reprogram women himself.

My hazy, uncertain idea had coalesced into hard fact by the time I made up my mind.

Clayton was in a position to want what was on the flash drive. It would make him independent of TRANCE. It would probably save him hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even millions. But would he want it badly enough to turn over Amber?

As I explained exactly what I had on the thumb drive, Clayton's gaze never wavered from my face. He didn't seem overly concerned by what I was offering. In fact, his expression seemed relaxed and lighthearted. But I had seen the brief, covetous glint in his eyes before he managed to hide it.

He wants this, I thought, and an ember of hope started to glow in my core.

"You're going to take this," I concluded, gesturing with the drive. "And you're going to do whatever the hell you want with it. But, in return, you're going to return Amber. Then, you're going to forget she ever existed and you're going to keep your business away from me and my harem. Forever." My lips hesitated on the word... harem... but it sounded okay when I used it. More than okay.

When I was done speaking Clayton eased back, slowly.

I wanted to glance over my shoulder at Terra, to remind myself that my teacher still had my back, but I didn't look away from the middle-aged businessman. I met Clayton's eyes squarely and forced myself to display nothing but confidence. I knew that some part of me was worried, was afraid of fucking up and ruining everything. But that part was growing weaker by the second.

Clayton broke the silence. "And what," he asked, "is to keep me from asking my colleagues here to simply take that drive away from you?" Without looking around, he gestured to the men at his back. "If it's as valuable as you seem to think, maybe you should just hand it over before things get... uncivilized."

The man's bodyguards responded to his words, drawing closer on either side of the couch. I tried not to let any hint of tension or uncertainty show on my face.

Terra spoke, then. Not to Clayton but to his bruisers. "If you lay a hand on this one, you risk breaking the Accord."

The men froze, and their sudden stillness made it even more obvious that they'd been creeping into positions to strike.

I blinked. There she goes again, I thought, keeping my expression blank. I knew that Terra had saved me tonight. Without her, I would have stood no chance of rescuing my girls. But it was also clear to me that something big was going on, and that my teacher knew far more than I did.

I tried to think back, wondering why Terra's threat sounded familiar. Breaking the Accord... I thought. And what's an 'accord,' again? Some kind of agreement? Or treaty? But for some reason, my memory felt hazy. It must have been when I was shot, I thought. Going into shock must have fuzzed my recollection.

The blonde man leaned forward now, and I could make out bright blue eyes that studied Terra intently.

Clayton, too, was studying the woman, scowling up at her. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice suddenly harsh. There was an uneasy edge to it, like he had suddenly registered her presence and realized she was more that he'd bargained for.

"Just a friend," Terra said smoothly. "Here to make sure you two can negotiate without interference."

Was it just my imagination, or did she emphasize the word friend as she stared down the man who looked like some sort of corporate gun-f0r-hire?

Clayton turned his frown toward his hired muscle. "What is she talking about? Shrike said that you Lunaris were dependable, and I took him at his word when I hired you. If I told you take the thumb drive then you would take the goddamn thumb drive. I've paid you to report to me, so you report to me."

Neither of the men responded. They were still staring past Clayton at the brunette, whose expression was harsh in the dancing shadows. If I hadn't already known she was a warrior, I would have known then. There was a deadly cast to her features.

"Ask Erin why she backed off tonight," Terra told the men, ignoring Clayton. "Better yet, ask Boris why he should have backed off. You might not care about breaking the Accord. But pissing me off is a very bad idea." Then, she smiled, and it was somehow even more frightening than her look of chilling calm.

Clayton's expression of easy confidence had twisted and broken. He seemed about to speak, but the blonde man interrupted.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, taking a slow step back and glancing over at his employer. "It's out of our hands."

The principal's features hardened. "In that case, you're fired." He said it in an ice cold tone, and didn't bother meeting the man's uneasy gaze. Instead, he stared across the fire pit at me. "I don't tolerate insubordination. I never want to see your sorry faces again."

The blonde man looked to the other bodyguard, hesitated, and then asked. "Do you mean now or—?"

"Get. Out."

Clayton maintained a stony silence until the two burly men had disappeared down the elevator. Then, he forced a smile across his face. "Well, Mr. Laurenzi..." Clayton said.

I felt a warm glow at the man's obvious discomfort. For the first time, I felt like he was taking me seriously.

"It seems that I have something of yours. And you have something I want. Whatever shall we do about that?"

* * *

So close, I thought, following Clayton's suited figure down a dimly lit hallway.

Behind it's luxurious facade, the Brighton Barnsworth Academy seemed to be hiding miles of maze-like corridors and mysterious doorways. They were all oddly similar, and I imagined how easy it would be to get lost in this place. Terra ghosted along behind me, and now that Clayton's bruisers were out of the picture I felt distinctly more at ease.

Our negotiations had been short. Clayton wasn't stupid. He knew that whatever investment he would lose by giving up Amber would be counterbalanced a hundred times over when he could manufacture half a dozen Ambers at the drop of a hat. Meanwhile, I was running on adrenaline, anxiety and an undercurrent of leftover fear that spiked whenever a dull ache radiated from the wound in my side. I kept myself from touching the bandages, but the soreness had been augmented by a terrible itching sensation that I could barely fight off. I had few demands, and I wasn't being ambitious. I had only one goal in mind, and I was so close to achieving it. Saving my loved ones was all that mattered.

Did I feel guilty, preparing to hand Clayton the power to utterly ruin the lives of anyone who got in his way?

Yes... My conscience tried to protest.

No. It felt like DC who answered, the voice of the devil on my shoulder, but it wasn't. It was the voice of conviction that had been awakened in me tonight, and I felt the truth spreading through me. I would trade the lives of a dozen strangers for any one of my lovers, without hesitation.

We stopped in front of a door that looked like all the others: smooth, dark wood with fittings that glinted like polished silver. Clayton paused with his hand on the knob.

"One last thing," the principal added, turning his eyes to stare into my face. "I will smooth things over with Mr. Morrison. But he will be disappointed. He is a powerful man, and as such he is used to having things go his way. Above all, do not be upset by what you are about to see."

Then, without any further ado, he twisted the knob and entered the room beyond. I stepped through after him, my heart beating fast with excitement and uncertainty.

It was finally time to save my girlfriend.

* * *

The room was handsomely furnished. I felt like I'd stepped from the wandering, sterile halls of a hospital into the pages of an interior design magazine for the wealthy bachelor. My shoes sank into a rich carpet and the furniture was all leather and brass. Framed pinup posters hung from the walls, and there was even a pool table off to one side. Instead of billiard balls, however, an array of tools had been spread out across the green felt. At a glance, I thought I recognized some of them from my brief experience with Daisy's collection.

The real attention-grabber, though, was the couple at the far end. They were like statues from a tableau of forbidden desires. The man was seated in a luxurious armchair by the artificial fireplace and the woman knelt before him.

After Clayton's warning, I'd been expecting to walk in on sex. What I hadn't expected was the way my body began to respond. Involuntarily, my breath caught in my throat and heat flushed my skin. Behind my zipper, I felt my cock twitch awake.

Amber was naked, her flawlessly tanned skin shining in the low light. Her golden hair fell back in a luxuriant waterfall as her hands massaged her tits and bounced them up and down in the businessman's lap. They were wrapped around the businessman's cock, and Morrison groaned as she milked his length with her lush breasts.

It looked like the man had only gotten partially undressed before Amber had gotten impatient, and the businessman didn't seem to mind. His jacket was thrown over a nearby sofa but his pants were around his ankles and his shirt was unbuttoned but still draped around his shoulders. I hadn't really gotten a good look at the man before — he'd been nothing more than a shadow in the backseat of Clayton's SUV — but now I could see that Morrison was just the sort of man I'd expected. From his homegrown-American grin of bliss to his CEO-style and short blonde hair, the man looked like the sort of high-powered business tycoon who might be in the market for a custom-built lover.

Amber stared up into his face, and I recognized the adoring smile on her full, pink lips.

"Ohmygod Master..." she gasped. Her mammoth tits bounced, and I felt a throb of desire pulse through me, watching. "I love having that thick cock between my tits, just waiting for your hot, sticky cum to blast all over me..."

I couldn't stop myself. In the space of a few seconds, my own manhood was beginning to swell, and I took an involuntary step forward. Then, I was striding across the room to my stunning, pornstar girlfriend.

By the time Morrison had looked up from his blissful haze and realized that someone else was in the room, I was standing over him with smoldering eyes. I saw the barest hint of recognition in his face, and then my fingers were circling around his arm and I yanked him unceremoniously to his feet.

"Hey..." A protest started to form on his lips, but I was already shoving him away.

"Clayton will explain," I grunted, but I didn't even watch as Morrison stumbled and bounced off a brown leather sofa. My attention was focused on the woman before me, whose blue eyes had just met mine.

For a single, terrifying moment, there was no hint of awareness in those bright blue orbs. I felt my heart twist and begin to crumble. Then, "Chance...?" Deep behind her glazed, entranced expression I saw a flicker of recognition.

It was just a whisper, but her soft question soothed my fears. My hands wrapped around Amber's and I was pulling her to her feet, pulling her to me, lowering my mouth to hers.

"Mmm..."

I felt Amber's moan with my whole body as she melted against me, her naked curves molding themselves to my frame and sending a white hot surge of lust flashing through me. Her hips rolled, teasing the bulge in my crotch, and I realized that the one article of clothing she wore was a pair of stiletto heels.

"Yesss, Chance..."

I wasn't sure how she could recognize me through the trance, but I could feel her whispers against my lips and I didn't care. What I knew was that I finally had the opportunity to do what I should have from the beginning. I was going to give myself fully to this woman, just like she'd given herself to me.

I stroked a hand up her back and tangled it in her hair, tightening my fingers and pulling her back just a fraction of an inch. There was almost no space at all between our lips as I stared into her eyes. "Amber?" I murmured.

"Yes..." Her fingers traced down my sides, instinctively going for my belt. Her voice was wispy and fragile, like it might break any second. Like I might lose her at any moment to the mindless, brainless trance that Clayton and Shrike had used so effectively.

"I need you to listen to me now," I told her, pulling in a breath as one of her hands slipped over my cock, squeezing gently through my pants. "I need you to hear me, deep down beneath all the programming and the bullshit."

Clink. Zippp.

My pants and boxers slid down around my knees as Amber stared up into my face with her vivid blue gaze. "Listen..." she murmured, and her lips were so close to mine I could feel them brush against mine ever so softly. "Deep down..."

"I need you to hear me and break through whatever commands they gave you. I need you to believe that this is possible, and come back to me." I shivered as her fingers circled around my rock hard length, stroking gently.

"Hear... your commands..." Amber whispered. She leaned in and kissed the edge of my mouth.

My skin was hot, and I shuddered as her expert hands sent ripples of electric pleasure through my body. But I forced myself to keep speaking. "You have to find yourself. And remember who you are. Remember what matters to you. Remember that everything they've told you, no matter how real it seems, is just an illusion. You know what matters, what you really care about, who you really care about..."

"Find myself...?" Amber's hands paused for a second, then she shook her head slightly and they started to move faster. She kissed my neck, her lips hungry. "Yes, Master... Anything for you, my perfect, sexy stud..."

Her words made me hard as steel in her hand, made my muscles tense with desire, but I knew they weren't the ones I needed to hear. I pulled Amber gently away from my throat and stared into her eyes. "Daisy did it," I told her. My voice was gruff with passion. "Victoria did it. But it doesn't mean anything if you can't do it. Please, Amber. Please, baby..."

"Please, baby..." Amber groaned, and then she gave me a little push.

I shuffled back half a step, felt the backs of my knees hit the edge of the chair, and fell into the exact position that Mr. Morrison had just occupied. My cock swayed, rigid and upright as a flagpole, the stunning blonde's practiced hands keeping me throbbing and just on the edge of explosion. As my eyes widened in consternation, Amber took one slow step forward, knelt on the cushion above me and slipped the head of my length into her drenched, waiting slit.