Chapter One - Slaver's Brunch

 

"So, what is the latest on the wire," asked Travis of his younger brother Lamar as they ate a leisurely brunch at their private club on Turtle Creek West.

Lamar thumbed down his tablet and said, "A lot of the same. It seems orders are not being filled quickly. I hear the Sultan of Marrakesh, or Timbuktu, or some god forsaken place still wants three blonde virgins."

"Fat chance we'll ever find that, unless you've come up with a scheme to abduct Swedish nuns."

A tuxedo clad waiter refilled their Mimosa glasses. He asked, "Were the eggs Benedict to your liking, sirs?"

"Yes. Everything was superb," replied Travis. "But I'd like another toasted croissant with lots of Irish butter and cranberry jam - on the side."

"Very well, sir. And for you Mr. Hunt, the third?"

"A lightly toasted egg bagel with Mascarpone cream cheese and pecan smoked Scottish salmon - not that farm raised Nova Scotia crap you sometimes pawn-off of as top shelf."

"Yes sir. But if we are temporarily out of Scottish salmon, as sometimes happens, will Danish or Norwegian salmon do?" asked the waiter.

"If you must, but you know how much I prefer the Scottish."

"Yes sir. And would the gentlemen desire more dark roast Sumatra coffee with your petit déjeuner?"

"Yes. That will be fine. Now leave us. We have some confidential business matters to discuss," said Travis to the waiter as he bowed and retreated to the kitchen.

"Lamar, what else are our perverted clients willing to buy for six or seven-figures?"

"A member of the royal Saudi family, wants an authentic redhead - with authentic red pubic hair, and pure blue eyes."

"The blue eyes are easy, once you find a girl whose hair color is in her DNA and not from a bottle," said Travis. "Anything else?"

"A Qatar prince wants a buxom woman with pierced nipples and clitoris. A Russian oligarch wants a woman who can deep-throat a horse, another Russian wants a woman to bear him a set of identical triplets - girls of course, a Columbian drug smuggler wants a dozen women who can each carry a kilo of cocaine in their pussy."

"A string of mules for his smuggling business, no doubt. What else?" asked Travis.

"Oh here is a new one. The President of Mauritania wants a young, whiteAmerican, a three-hole whore - and he uses the word 'whore' - who can fuck all night and never herself achieve an orgasm."

"Sounds like our mother, except for the 'young' part." Both men laughed.

"Then there are the usual requests from the Turkish pleasure houses wanting pretty young women who enjoy sex with older men," added Lamar.

"That ad has been out there for what, six or seven years," said Travis.

"Yes. It may be the first sex-slave ad to appear on the dark web. We've even sold a few of our culls to them, when we couldn't find another buyer. They don't pay a lot, but they are a dependable fall-back client."

"So what do we have in stock? As much moaning as I hear from the training room and the dormitory, we must have a dozen women to sell."

"Actually, we only have ten, and, as you know, we can keep twice that number without double caging."

Travis said, "looks like you have been slacking-off on the recruitment end, bro." "Look who's talking. Didn't you say you could bring in a woman a week?"

"That was when I was in my 50's. And I did, when we first started this business. But now that I'm 63, it's not so easy. You are the cute one. You have to make up for us oldsters. How many prospects do you have on the line?"

"I've got four, but am not ready to reel them in just yet."

Just then, Lamar's cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and announced , "Here is one now. It's Lexi. Should I take the call here?"

"Yes, but I want to listen in."

Travis pulled a set of earbuds out of his pocket and plugged them into Lamar's phone. "Hey baby. I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah? You got a hard-on for me?"

"Only for you, sugar." Lamar winked at his brother. "You are up rather early for a Sunday. No takers from the strip club last night?"

"Not any with money, and you know I don't take credit cards. Danced my ass off all night for a measly $120. I need a new gentleman's club," said Lexi. "So, what are you doing?"

"Having brunch with my brother at the club on Turtle Creek. You want to get together tonight for a double date? My bother has four tickets to the theatre for the Broadway touring show of CATS. What do you say? You weren't going to dance on Sunday night anyway - right?"

"I could if I have to. A girl has to pay her share of the rent and it is getting close to the end of the month."

"I can chip in $200 to help you out with the rent," Lamar paused and looked at his brother, who nodded. "I can pick you up at 7:00, we can have dinner, then see the show, then dessert after. You get a night off, a 4-star meal, and you get to have me for dessert - with whipped cream and chocolate sauce."

"And a cherry on top?"

"Sorry. Lost my cherry years ago."

"But you know I don't like giving blow-jobs with an audience, even if they are your brother and his wife."

"Don't worry. They will be doing their own hummity-hummity, and there is plenty of chocolate sauce to go around," said Lamar as he made a fishing reel gesture to his brother.

"Make it $300 and you got a date."

"Okay. $300, but you have to promise to not drip chocolate on the upholstery, and to be on-time. They don't let people into the theatre if the play has already started."

"I know," said Lexi. "Did you know that the cat / character 'Mr. Mistoffelees' always reminds me of 'fisting', you know, the sex act."

"What do you know about fisting?"

"I once did it to a guy and he shot a load of cum you wouldn't believe. I got $75 and shit all over my hand."

"I don't know how to respond to that, because there are other people within earshot and the waiter may bring us our coffee at any moment. Oh, speak of the devil, here he is now."

The waiter appeared around a corner of the booth. "Your toasted croissant, Mr. Hunt, and your bagel with salmon - Scottish salmon, just as you ordered Mr. Hunt the third."

"I really should let you go to catch up on your beauty sleep. So, it's a date - the theatre, not the, ah, you know."

"Yes. Which car will you be taking, so I know what to look for?"

"The stretch Hummer. It's fire engine red, and big enough for all four of us in the back seats."

"I don't know if I ever saw you in a stretch Hummer before. Is it something new?"

"Oh no. But I need to take all the cars in my collection out every once in a while. For the exercise, kind of like horses. They need periodic exercise."

"All right. See you at 7:00," said Lexi, and then she closed the call. Travis remarked, "Is Lexi a natural redhead?"

"Maybe. I haven't gotten in her panties, yet. Her hair color looks real enough, and she is very fair skinned. So fair, her aureolas are almost the same color as her breasts. She dances at a topless club, not a nudie club, so she is always wearing a G-string and thus you never see her pubic hair. But even if she isn't, we can grab her and sell her to someone else," said Lamar. "The question is; can you snag us four tickets to this evening's show. Really nice ones. Not in the third balcony. Lexi will not be impressed if we are up in the nose-bleed section."

"So is Lexi a professional dancer, or just a titty dancer? You know the difference, right?" "She hopes to be a professional - dancing full time in plays and music videos and the like.

She has tied out for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. Heck, she may have auditioned for a role in CATS. I know she flies to New York, Vegas, and L.A. to audition, sometimes. But it's hard to get parts when you don't have an agent, or a pimp."

Travis reached into his jacket's breast pocket and started making calls just as the $20 a cup coffee arrived. He hit pay dirt on his second call. A scalper known as Leon the Lion had four tickets on the main floor.

"Okay. All set. Do you have $700 cash on you? Leon won't takeAmerican Express." "No, but theATM here in the club will," said Lamar as he finishes his coffee. "You know,

you have to drink this stuff while it's still warm, otherwise it tastes the same as Seven Eleven." "I'll cover the check here and meet you in the drawing room off the main entrance," said

Travis, as he sips his dark roast. "Leon will meet me in the bar of theAldolphas at 2:00, so I have some time to kill. You, on the other hand, have to make dinner reservations and re-stock the bar in the Hummer. Remember, only drug the red bottle of champagne. Leave the black labeled one alone."

"So while I'm prepping the Hummer . . ."

". . . I'll be telling my wife, Cindy, about our little kidnapping plot. You know, she really gets stoked about finger fucking another woman in the back of the limo. Something about the one-way tint on the windows and having the chauffeur drive through downtown. I think it's the danger that makes her so wet - well, then there is the prospect of sexually breaking another woman, shredding her self respect, and turning her into a fuck slave. That may have a lot to do with her excitement, too."

"So how did you meet this Lexi? Through that 'date a millionaire' website?"

"No. I met her the same way you met Cindy - by stuffing 10s and 20s into her dancer's costume, and buying $50 lap-dances."

"Yes. Money can be extremely seductive."

The two men go their separate ways, after Lamar hands-off the cash for the tickets.