Elora sat motionless, her mouth hanging open, her drink forgotten as the images on the screen jerked from one incredible scene to the other. She had waited like a nervous bride until Chester left for work, promising to be along after she made some calls. Now, watching the disc again, only on Chester's state of the art system made it seem totally different and Elora felt an unanticipated excitement welling in her chest.
Not only that, she was looking at scenes that she hadn't seen at the first viewing. Some were of the men she'd met at social functions with their wives and here they were, reduced to sex slaves in various costumes and situations. Then there was Chester Hargrave, in a flesh-coloured body suit, twisted slowly in the center of some kind of ring by fur-padded handcuffs anchored in the ceiling.
A young, shapely woman in a long blonde wig and stiletto boots strutted around his limp form, laying strokes across his buttocks and back from a long, flexible crop. There was no sound, but she could see his head jerk back with each switch of the crop and she finally realized that she'd been holding her breath and wheezed noisily, one hand pressed against her chest.
The sequence lasted at least thirty minutes and then it switched to what resembled a throne and Chester was manacled to the base, attending to the same young woman. Elora could see that she wore a mask over her eyes and nose, hiding her identity and the images seemed oddly jerky. All around the room other men were in similar positions and all the women seemed to be controlling them with lashes to their bare skin. She concluded that they must have been taken by someone using a phone to record the events and was trying not to let it show.
No wonder Chester was concerned. The strange shot of Chester and another man exchanging something in the background of a particularly steamy scene near the end of the disc puzzled her but she was so amazed by the rest of the content that it failed to hold her attention. How could she be involved with this man and not even suspect something as bizarre as what she was watching; the thought left her non-plussed.
Things with Chester were fine at the moment and so this was simply insurance for when he or she tired of the relationship... or something arose that required aggressive action. Elora smiled... aggressive action.... Chester would appreciate that. Not! She removed the disc and slipped it into the container, tapping it against her nails as she pondered where to best store her little policy. She would rent a mailbox under an alias; that would be in perfect keeping with her new partner. Elora smiled and began searching the phone book for mailbox rentals. She was now the new boss on the block.
******
Cresta pulled on her skirt and zipped up, adjusting the blouse at the waist. She did some quick pivots in front of the mirror and then stepped into her heels, picked up her purse and coat and left her apartment. Hatti Ambrose had called again and left instructions for their meeting, an act that cinched the fact that Chester hadn't managed to deter her in any way and there was nothing from William so now it was up to her to make the rules. She crossed the dirty cement of the parking garage and beeped the locks on her Buick sedan and a few moments later bounced out of the garage over the curb into traffic and off to Hatti's hotel.
Cresta knocked firmly on the door and tossed her mane of soft hair in preparation as she waited. The door opened and both women stopped and stared in surprise. Rita had only ever seen Cresta Ettinger in her club garb, which consisted of leather and lace and a small facemask. Cresta recognized Hatti only because her position required she know all the women working the club, intimately, but the short auburn hair and the big brown eyes behind the designer glasses made her pause to make sure. She gathered herself and moved into the room without invitation. Rita closed the door and leaned against it.
"I presume the hair and glasses mean Hatti doesn't live here any more."
"Sorry, I don't know anyone named Hatti." Rita played the game with a confident ease. "Do you have the money?"
Cresta looked around and selected a small club chair to sit in, crossing long, shapely legs with elaborate staging.
"Yes, I would like something to drink, thankyou." She stated with a touch of sarcasm. "A vodka perhaps and a real name to go with it?"
Rita pushed off the door and crossed to the mini bar, cracking a small bottle of vodka and filling a glass-no ice, no mix. She handed the glass to Cresta and folded her arms.
"Jean is the name." She paused. "The money?"
Cresta tossed the drink down without blinking and settled back in the chair. "Jean, what on earth makes you think I would be giving you money? And I do know Hatti Ambrose when I see her."
Rita ignored the challenge and picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Immediately a shaky image of Cresta, in costume, stood alongside a man, naked except for a large collar with studs, her one hand patting his head as he snorted something from her hand and nuzzled her thigh. Cresta watched with mild interest, recognizing the session and the man... Chester Hargrave and showed her lack of concern by holding up her glass for another drink.
Rita fast-forwarded through the scenes and suddenly the screen went to snow. She huffed impatiently seeking the disk menu and trying again. Same result. There was nothing on the disk but the bit with Chester and a short session with Cresta and that amounted to a huge zero.
"Is that what I'm supposed to be paying for?" Rita was speechless she sagged onto the edge of the table with the horrible realization that she had given Elora Gates the wrong copy. "I've seen amateurs before but really, Jean, this is rather pathetic."
"I filmed a drug transaction between the owner and Chester Hargrave. I had it on disc." Rita's voice was hollow.
"That's nonsense."
"Oh no it isn't. The so called silent partner of Bootheel is a dealer for the members and don't bother to deny it, I've seen you watching the members help themselves during sessions."
Cresta rose from the chair and placed the glass on the table. "You'll never prove something like that from that picture." The owner was rarely in the club proper and never a participant but he was an avid spectator over his closed circuit system. She felt her confidence slip slightly, realizing that she was directly in the line of fire if the club's illegal practices got out. And what was that about Chester and the owner. The TV clicked off and Rita bobbed the remote in her hand as she watched Cresta.
"The pictures are out there somewhere because I took them and I've seen them."
"Then you're a poor excuse for a blackmailer if you've lost your material. I think we've finished here, Hatti."
"If you wish to take that chance, there's the door... otherwise..."
"What can you possibly gain from this if I walk out?"
"I just aim a little higher in the organization. It cuts down the long-term income picture and imposes a one-time score but then it's probably a cleaner way to go. Unfortunately, collateral damage would be necessary to emphasize the seriousness of the need to pay." She looked pointedly at Cresta.
"You're mad. You haven't got anything and besides, you don't know who you're dealing with."
"Really? You mean you might kill me like Roger?"
"What! I never killed Roger Cullen."
"No? Strange how it happened right after we sent the first images to the club's secure website."
"Coincidence." It sounded pathetic and Cresta knew it. Who at the club had seen it besides she and then deleted it? "Roger had enemies outside of Bootheel."
"None up to actually murdering him." Rita challenged.
Cresta wandered to the window, thinking hard. None up to murdering him, eh. This woman was on a mission and obviously not afraid. She turned and studied her then sighed deeply.
"I came here prepared to turn the tables on you because I thought you were simply trying to blackmail a few indiscrete men for their behaviour in the club and you wanted to use me as some kind of go between. I didn't realize you were targeting me."
"Nothing personal." Rita shrugged. "You happened to be in that scene."
"Well unless you have something more damning than that bit of video, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."
"Then I guess you don't object to being the collateral damage?"
Cresta headed for the door as Rita watched warily. "If you think you're right about someone at Bootheel killing Roger then you should give a little more thought to just who might be the collateral damage."
"Is that a threat?"
"Yes, and a tad more serious than yours." She opened the door and strode out without closing it behind her.
Rita shut the door and pressed her forehead against the wood. That had not gone exactly the way she planned. Could she know who killed Roger? Suddenly the blackmail scheme lost a lot of appeal, particularly since she gave away her material. She looked at her new makeover in the mirror and wondered if she should change it again. She thought that she'd better make up her mind before Vin came by. Thinking of Vin made her cringe inside at the price he expected for the extra work and she went to the bathroom and got out her collection of hair colours and contacts.