The Game Ch. 09

A Note to the Reader:

Hello again cyber-reader of all things porn and smutty. I am writing to you because it has finally happened. I seem to have lost control of my characters, and they have gone on their own way, as they have threatened to do for awhile now.

No one could be more surprised by this turn of events than I am. It seems that Sara and her band of companions have finally run off the tracks of my imagination and have taken on a life of their own. I wonder sometimes if this happens to other authors (if you have an informed opinion I would greatly appreciate hearing it).

Do not confuse my loss of control of my characters with insanity. I do not believe for instance that these characters are real (although some are), but rather when I write, the story goes surprisingly in a direction I never anticipated. (So please do not call the nut house for me just yet.)

This has happened 'big time' in this chapter to the point that I found myself writing and writing just to find out what happens; the way I read I am engrossed a particularly good book. When it was finished, I almost deleted it and started over because it is so far off the beaten path (I just could not hit "Empty" on the recycle bin for some reason).

I have no doubt that the second version would have felt fake and contrived and I thought I owed you, my reader (as well as Sara and Rachel), more than that.

So I have decided to post Chapter 9, as is, with all its warts showing.

Another interesting development is the lack of sexual content in this chapter and I wonder if that spells the end for this series in this forum (or any other. I am no Steinbeck, for certain). Ironically, since turning control over to my characters, I believe I have written some of my best work. Do you agree? Do I care? These are two good questions to which I may never know the answer.

Many of you have written me and said that you enjoy my 'character development', which to me means that you have grown to empathize if not like my characters. I appreciate that because I feel the same way.

So I have decided to post my first 'non-erotic' chapter. Perhaps this is the time where you abandon Sara, Rachel, Michelle, and Ron and move on to more titillating things. If so, I don't blame you. Maybe it's time I uninstalled my word processor for good.

If you want further proof of my 'madness' I have decided to let you, the reader, decide if you wish the story to continue, for I know longer know where it will lead.

Why would I do such a thing you ask? First of all I am too new of a writer to decide if this story has become old and stale to the reader. Has it gone so far that even the author has trouble finding new ways to put in "the good parts"? And second I have no idea where the story will go, and quite frankly that scares the shit out of me.

So I have chosen the cowardly approach; I will let you decide.

I am sure that eroticism will find its way back into the story should I continue to write it, but I wanted your vote to be 'fair' without sexual compulsion of the moment coming into it. Michelle would understand.

I don't know how this has happened, except to say that Sara, Rachel, and the rest have become a significant part of my fantasy world. They have grown beyond my ability to control them like puppets on a string. Part of me thinks that this 'problem' should be all of the incentive I need to stop the story and check into the nearest psyche ward.

No one likes to ride in a car with a blindfolded driver except those that are truly crazy. However, to be honest, another part of me is curious where the ride will lead. What will happen to Sara if I go on? What will where she goes say about me? Those are scary thoughts eh?

So in short I have decided to flip a metaphorical coin, and leave the future of these characters to those of you who have so willingly given me encouragement when I doubted, and the occasional kick in the ass when my words would not come.

If you truly enjoy the characters, this chapter will take you to a new place. If you're in it for the fucking, there is no need to read further. At the end of this chapter you, the reader, can decide what happens next.

I await your decision more nervously than I ever would have imagined......... And now the rant of "the crazy bitch" (as many of you no doubt have called me in reading this far too long monologue) is over...

Chapter 9: Consequences

The door opened and one man and one woman stood on the other side. The man wore a brown suit that looked very off the rack. He was 5'9 inches tall and graying. His shoes were scuffed and unpolished. His eyes, however, were intelligent and piercing.

The woman was much younger, perhaps thirty. She wore a conservative outfit with black hair tied back behind her head. She was in great shape and her body looked like that of an athlete. She could have been attractive, but her dress and demeanor made her feel cold to me.

"Can I help you?" I asked certain they had the wrong door.

"Sara?", the older man asked.

I nodded.

"I'm Agent Jackson and this is Agent Mclean. We are with the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions?" the man said flipping his badge in a practiced move.

I stood there confused and intimidated. I knotted my robe tighter around me. My mouth was dry and my stomach tightened. The day had just taken on a surreal quality and the edges of the world seemed sharper than they had a moment before as the adrenaline hit my blood.

"May we come in M'am?" the woman asked pushing the door open before the words were out of her mouth.

"I guess so," I said as she pushed into my living room. Agent Jackson followed me in closing the door behind him.

Rachel sat on the couch wide eyed as these two strangers pushed into our world. Strangers were something neither of us wanted or needed right now, especially those with guns and badges. My mind raced wondering what this was about.

It was then that I noticed the brown leather bag that the woman agent of the government carried. It was Rachel's camera bag.

'Oh shit', I thought.

Rachel recognized the bag immediately and jumped up and attempted to take it from Agent Mclean. "That's mine." She said as she reached for the bag.

Agent Mclean spoke softly but held the bag out of Rachel's reach, "And you are?" she queried.

"Rachel. Rachel".

The two agents exchanged a glance that said, "It's them".

'Oh shit' I thought for the second time in as many seconds.

"Sara, Rachel, why don't we have a seat and talk." Agent Mclean said smoothly leaving no room for discussion. Agent Jackson had somehow magically moved to the couch and beckoned us to join him.

I felt terribly uncomfortable in only my robe with these two making themselves at home in my apartment. I felt naked and afraid and I hated them for that feeling. I wondered if it was an intentional ploy to question us this early when we would likely not be dressed. I suspected it was.

But what choice did we have. Rachel and I sat on the couch with the agents directly across from us.

"What's this all about?" I asked boldly hoping to get to the bottom of this.

The agents exchanged glances and this time it was Jackson who spoke, "Ever heard of a club called 'X'?" he asked.

It was Rachel and my turn to exchange glances. I wondered if we looked guilty of something.

"Yes I have, unfortunately." I said truthfully.

"And were you there last night?", Mclean piped in.

I sighed and said, "You know we were or you wouldn't be here."

"And this is yours?" Mclean said to Rachel indicating her camera bag.

"Yes!" Rachel said fiercely. "I left it at 'X', by accident. It was behind the bar and when we.... Er.... Left, I forgot it."

Rachel had almost said 'escaped', but caught herself in time.

"When you..... left?" Agent Mclean asked emphasizing that she did not miss the pause.

"Yes. May I have it back.?" She asked.

Mclean and Jackson exchanged one of those glances again and Jackson nodded. Mclean handed Rachel her bag.

Rachel immediately opened it and sorted through its contents. "Where's my film?" she asked.

"Confiscated. Sorry." Mclean answered not really sounding sorry at all.

I was now really confused. "Maybe you two can fill me in, but what exactly is going on?"

"What time did you leave last night ma'am?" Jackson asked.

"I don't know. Maybe 11:30. We were home by midnight. I know that."

"And can anyone confirm that?" Mclean asked.

I felt my temper rising and my eyes going cold. "No they can not."

"Well maybe the cab driver." Rachel said helpfully. I could have slapped her.

Jackson had magically produced a pen and notebook. "What cab company young lady?"

Rachel stared at him unknowingly. "I don't know. A yellow one." She said with sarcasm.

I sighed in resignation and said, "It was Chicago Checker Cab Company. The driver was a middle aged man with gray hair and brown eyes. I don't know his name."

The agents once again exchanged one of their glances. "And you two say you left before midnight." Mclean asked.

"No I don't 'say it'. That is what happened." I snarled really not liking this condescending bitch.

"I mean no disrespect." Mclean said sarcastically which only made me madder.

"So you left the club early and then what?" Jackson asked.

"We came back here." I said. "Now why are you so interested in our evening?" I asked again.

"And you got back here by midnight?" Mclean asked again.

"Do you always answer a question with a question?" I asked fuming.

Mclean smiled and said, "No ma'am. I'm just trying to ascertain the time you arrived here last night."

"I already told you we were here by midnight. Maybe before. I didn't check the atomic clock. Now what the fuck is this about?" I snarled at both of them.

"No reason to get upset ma'am." Jackson said in a reasonable tone that further fueled my anger.

"No reason to get upset? Are you kidding? It's before 9 AM; I have had a hell of a day already; and now the FBI is here harassing me and refuses to tell me why. So yes Mr. Jackson I am upset. And you can get the hell out of my house or tell me what is going on." I fumed.

I stood and walked toward the door and started to open it for them.

"Does the name Chadmean anything to you?" Mclean asked without even beginning to get up.

I slammed the door and turned back to them. Rachel's eyes were wide with fear at the mention of Chad's name. My face must have gone white.

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Agents, I don't know what you are getting at, but please spit it out."

Jackson shrugged again as if saying, 'what the hell'.

Mclean turned to us and said, "Chadwas murdered last night three blocks from 'X'. His head was cut off and body was left in a dumpster." In one fluid moment Mclean produced from her pocket an 8x10 color glossy of Chad's severed head.

Rachel gasped. I shuddered. Both of us were speechless and repulsed.

Mclean continued, "Now let's cut the shit. You were both at 'X' last night. You probably used drugs and you definitely had sex with Chad. At least one of you did." She paused staring at Rachel whose face would have flushed if it was not so green from staring at the photo.

"Now Chad is dead and it appears he was killed by some people from 'X'. I want to know who killed him and I think you two have information that might be valuable. So we can do this one of two ways. Choice 1 is you sit your skinny ass back down and talk to us about everything that happened last night, or choice 2 is we drag you downtown in your bath robe, throw you in lockup with the hookers and dykes for a few days and if there is anything left of you after that, we will talk to you then." Mclean said dropping all pretense of civility.

This woman was deranged with obsession and as dangerous as anyone who had killed Chad. I looked at her eyes and knew she meant to do every word of what she said. She was crazy with power and the reality that she could make good on her turned my blood cold.

I stood dumbfounded. Tears welled in Rachel's eyes. I looked at her and swallowed my anger. I walked softly to the edge of the couch and sat down again.

"What would you like to know?" I asked in resignation.

Jackson produced a tape recorder. "Everything." he said.

And I told them.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When I finished our story leaving out no detail we all sat in silence. Rachel had corroborated many of the historical facts about her meeting Chad at work, her crush on him, and culminating with fucking him in a strange living room above the throbbing dance floor of 'X'.

It was now nearly noon, but I had no appetite even though it had been dinner the night before since I had eaten.

Mclean took notes as we covered the story again and again. After the third time she put away her pen and notebook. Jackson stood signaling their departure. He made an effort to shake my hand and said, "Thank you for your help Sara. And you too Rachel."

"Wait a minute." Rachel said. "That's it?"

I was happy to get Agent Jackson and Mclean out of my house as fast as possible, but Rachel had a point.

"What do you mean?" Mclean asked with the edge back in her voice.

"Well what happened to Chad? I mean he was an asshole, but someone killed him. Who? Why?" she asked.

Mclean looked uncomfortable for the first time and I enjoyed her discomfort if I didn't know why. Jackson seemed to consider for a minute and sat back down.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Roland Spiegel?" he asked.

We both shook our heads in unison. Jackson said, "Spiegel owns 'X' through a variety of holding companies both here and in New York. He has several business interests that include illegal drug trafficking and weapons smuggling. We are not talking small arms to street gangs here, we are talking about missiles to Syria and Anthrax to Iraq. Since 9/11 the risks of drug and weapons trafficking have increased. It's the agencies number 1 priority and the penalty includes death. It's not an easy case to beat anymore and a lot of the Spiegel's of the world have looked for higher profit, lower risk businesses."

"So he retired and runs nightclubs now?" I asked incredulously.

"Hardly," Mclean said. "Now his interests have moved from distribution to manufacture of drugs. He has hired chemists from all over the world to produce new varieties of recreational drugs."

"You mean like Ecstacy and LSD?" Rachel asked.

"Well crudely speaking yes. But these drugs are so new there are not even hard defined laws against them. The drugs produce euphoria, strong sexual response, and a feeling of godlike power in a few. The feelings people pay big bucks for."

I nodded beginning to understand. "So he uses his clubs to sell these drugs? Right?"

Jackson and Mclean shook their heads as if explaining something to the slowest kid in the class. "I wish that was all he did, but as I said, he is now the manufacturer not the distributor."

"What does that mean?" I asked feeling left out of the discussion.

Mclean turned to me and said, "He uses 'X' to test his drugs not sell them. It's his own personal FDA without the pesky regulations that protect people from dying. He gives the drugs to test subjects and sees what will happen. The reactions in the subjects are recorded and analyzed to further refine the drug."

"One of his drugs looked very promising except that it had the unfortunate side effect of killing anyone who used it within 48 hours. Others caused madness and massive strokes. Still others create this euphoric feeling and cause strong sexual responses." Jackson said.

I thought of the feeling that hit me the night before and was horrified. "And we took some of that shit last night?"

"It appears so." Jackson said.

"Recorded how?" Rachel asked.

Mclean turned to her. "What?"

"You said the reactions are recorded and analyzed. If they have scientists looking at this from all over the world, how are the reactions recorded? I mean scientists wouldn't collect cocktail napkins that said, 'Got horny' as scientific data, and I didn't see any lab coat types there."

Jackson fidgeted in his seat for the first time, but then said, "They videotape the reactions and then send the video files over the internet to encrypted locations all over the world. So far we have not been successful in intercepting and decoding the recordings. Mr. Spiegel seems to have developed a new type of encryption technology that he has not licensed or share with the rest of the world."

"Oh shit. So right now there is a video of us getting fucked three ways from Sunday on the internet?" I asked.

Mclean smiled and said, "Actually no. We were able to intercept last night's tapes due to our involvement in Chad's murder. They had not yet been encrypted. The tapes are how we found you two so quickly. That and the camera bag helped."

I could not think of any thing to say. I had a million questions, but the thought of the FBI having a video of Rachel and I having sex was not a prospect I had planned on.

"And you are going to destroy those tapes right?" Rachel asked fearing she knew the answer.

Jackson said, "Hardly. They are the only hard evidence of what is going on. We have known about Spiegel for awhile, but the tapes are proof that something nasty is going on. Right now there are 300 Federal Agents world wide investigating him because of those tapes."

I closed my eyes as the enormity of the situation hit me. 300 FBI agents all watching me fuck. And I wondered how long before some pervert in the pentagon uploaded that file to the internet or NBC news just because he was a pissed off bureaucrat. This was out of control.

Jackson must have read my face. "Don't worry Sara, only 4 people have seen the tape. And that is all that will probably ever see it providing we can get Spiegel to court without it."

I saw the trap was just sprung and I wondered what it meant. "Which of course is really why you are here?" I said.

"You are a quick study." Mclean said sarcastically and with distaste for me. I wanted to punch her teeth out of her head.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Mclean handed me her card and said, "We will be in touch. For now just don't plan on leaving Chicago for the next week or two."

"It's a free country." Rachel said defiantly. It was bad timing, but I knew how she felt.

Mclean just smiled and said, "Young lady you are absolutely right it is a free country, but let me tell you what I will do to your freedom should you decide to exercise it. First I wills personally send a tape to your mother who lives at