And on this day she sat in the bar. She sat in her usual seat and her long, shapely legs were crossed. There was no doubt that Chantelle would end up with legs like her mother's, Charisse's legs were spectacular, and when sheathed in the finest of nylon, an almost invisibly fine seam, dead straight up the backs of her legs, she was a looker. A hooker, but a looker. She would have been a pimp's dream come true. A hooker needing to work not for the money but for the orgasms. Basically a hooker simply 'needing' to work. A needy hooker. Street hookers often worked for drugs. Or for drug money. But Charisse came here - she came to this part of town because she needed the orgasms. This was her dirty little secret. Or one of them. This was something that she would never be able to share with Chantelle. She had always had the feeling that at some point they would need to sit and talk about that something they had in common. But somehow she didn't feel that her hooker escape trips would be part of that conversation. That was 'her' shame. This was the step too far for her where the need turned into a shameful thing. She sat in that same spot and she didn't ever have to sit for long before she was approached.

"You look like you could use some company."

Charisse always did that cool calm thing. She never looked up. Never looked startled at being approached. It was like when she transformed herself into that hooker that she became like a queen of cool. She always played it cool. But this time and with that line her spine froze. She froze. She'd just been sitting looking out of the window, out on the sleazy part of town. And she kept looking out there. But she would recognise Cindra's voice anywhere. She hadn't spent very long that day speaking to her, but it had been enough for that cigarette husky voice to be ingrained on her mind. It was only slowly that she turned to face Cindra.

"You sure look the part honey. Mind if I take a seat?"

It was almost a carbon copy of the approach the sadist had made to Charisse's daughter. Probably a carbon copy of the approach she made to all of her prospective victims. Charisse's mind was in a whirl. She couldn't work out how this woman was here. How she had found her here. How she had found out about her being in this place. In her mind, as fucked up as it was, she discounted immediately this being a chance meeting. In her mind this meeting was planned very planned. It was all coming together with the bad vibes she had been getting about this woman from the start. If she knew that she was here at this time, at this hotel, in this bar, then what else did she know? Charisse was immediately on the back foot. But that was the intention of the sadist Cindra. It was what predatory sadists did - inflict mega-shocks. Disable the victim first and foremost. And once that shock had been applied, then the real work could begin.

"It's a free country."

Charisse's response was short, almost sharp. But that was the shock doing its work. Cindra smiled as she pulled out a chair and sat. She crossed her legs and there was that familiar swish of nylon on nylon. The bar tender came, and delivered what must have been a pre-order. Her own drink plus another for Charisse.

"Well to a point it is of course."

It was what Cindra liked to do - speak words that spoke the obvious but also that had double meanings.

"I know about you Charisse. I know ALL about you."

Cindra dropped the bomb and then she sat back and casually sipped from the glass she had been given. She smiled as she looked around the bar. She was letting the words sink in. And those words were sinking in. All the way in to Charisse's psyche.

"You don't know jack shit."

Another short sharp response. Maybe Charisse didn't mean to be so short and sharp but her mind wasn't functioning properly. It wasn't functioning the way it usually did. In fact, if she could be honest with herself for just a second then she would admit that it felt like her world was falling apart at that time. She had had bad vibes about this woman all the time. From the word go. And she had let her daughter go with her. And now this! But she couldn't work out what it all meant.

"I know you have a problem sweetie. A big problem. I know what that problem is and I know why you need to come here. I've done a lot of homework on you Charisse. A lot!"

Once again she paused and let her words sink into the psyche of Charisse.

"I don't care what you know about me. I couldn't give a flying fuck what you know about me. But I do want Chantelle back home, and away from you immediately. Do you understand?"

Charisse's tone was of some defiance, but it wasn't all that convincing. Cindra looked around. She smiled a wide lipstick smile at a couple on a table nearby. They smiled back - genuine smiles having no idea of the exchange between these two women sitting together.

"Ah yes, Chantelle. I know about her problems as well. I'm actually helping her with her problems. Just like I am going to help you with yours. It might not feel like I am the one to help you right at this moment. But well, you will be seeing it my way by the end of this conversation. Oh, and I doubt you'd want Chantelle back in her present form. But I digress."

There it was again. Cindra talking in that way she did. Leaving the little double meanings. To anyone else it would be intrigue. To Charisse though, the words - the suggestive words about her one and only daughter were damaging. And she did that thing again - that thing where she visibly shrunk back in the chair. Like she had been stung. Like she had been stung psychologically.

"I want her back, today. Do you understand?"

Charisse was back to short answers because her mind couldn't come up with anything more.

"Charisse, listen to me, YOU are not in a position to be issuing orders. I on the other hand am. But let me just put your mind at rest a little. Chantelle is fine. She is secure and she is safe from the world. But she is also 'fucked' if you know what I mean."

Cindra was speaking slowly and clearly - as though she might to someone a bit slow on the uptake. She was making allowances for the bio and psycho shock she was inflicting on Charisse. As she spoke she went to her bag. And she pulled out a bundle of 50s and slid them across the table towards Charisse. Charisse looked down at the money as though disbelieving. The couple on the other table looked, but then looked away quickly as though they had stumbled on something dirty that they had rather they hadn't.

"This is for your time. I wouldn't want you to accuse me of being a cheapskate now would I?"

Charisse looked at the money, then the couple on the other table and then up and Cindra. She hissed almost between gritted teeth.

"I don't need your fucking money now take it back and get Chantelle home by the end of the day."

Charisse was seething but she was also melting in her mind. Cindra smiled.

"If you want to see Chantelle again, in any form, you'll thank me for the money, slip it inside your hooker purse and then you'll take me to the room I know you have already hired here for your little needy session."

It just got worse for Charisse. Now there was an underlying threat to Charisse in the form of a threat to her daughter. Even the hint that something could have happened to her already and that she wasn't the girl she used to be.

"Do I make myself clear?"

There was an edge to Cindra's voice but it was partly disguised by that lipstick smile. Charisse reached for the cash. She reached for it at the precise point that the couple looked across again. Another psychological blow - witnesses to this mother accepting money for 'services'.

"T-thank you."

The slight stutter. The slight shake in the voice. Cindra smiled.

"Better. Now are you going to lead the way?"