Cruise Ship of Broen Dreams

Disclaimer

This is a work of pure fantasy; nothing is real, and all characters are adults. Comments are enabled, and all constructive comments are welcomed; even if you think my story sucks, tell me how it sucks so I can improve the story and as an author. I also want to thank Kenji Sato for his editing assistance on my horrible grammar.

Cruise Ship of Broken Dreams

Chapter 4

An Artist at Work

They arrived promptly the following morning at 9:00 AM sharp; Arthur pulled up in his Mercedes SUV. It looked out of place in the run-down neighborhood. The businesses were mostly pawn shops, tattoo parlors, and strip joints. Laura was dressed in a short skirt and an oversized shirt. Steve had advised her that loose-fitting clothing would be best since she shouldn't have tight jeans that put too much pressure on her new tattoo after it was completed.

They were one of the first customers for the day. He showed Laura the private back room where she would get her tattoo. But first, there was the matter of payment; Steve asked for payment in full up front; he had been screwed over before by clients who had refused to pay after services were rendered. For the tattoo she wanted, it was going to run $twenty-five hundred dollars. Arthur had only brought five hundred dollars cash, nowhere near enough to cover the cost. He tried to write Steve a check or give him a credit card.

"Cash only", Steve insisted. "I've been shafted too many times with stop payments on checks and chargebacks on credit cards."

"But I'll take the five hundred dollars and start the work, but if you're not back in a couple of hours with the balance, I will have to stop, leaving your wife with a half-finished tattoo."

Arthur assured Steve that he would go to the bank and return with the balance.

Next, Steve asked to see Laura's identification and handed her a tattoo consent form for her to sign. She signed it without bothering to read it. Next, he slipped in a liability release form, which she also signed without reading it. Steve smiled; she didn't realize she had signed a piercing consent form; it would make it all that much easier when the time came.

Next, he escorted her to the private room in the back. He told her that the tattoo she wanted was pretty big. Would she be interested in something a little smaller and less detailed?

"Sorry, I have my heart set on the one I showed you." Actually, she thought, her blackmailer did; she really had no choice.

"I'll have to get my assistant to measure your body to get the proportions right; my female assistant, Ruby, will assist you with the process," Steve said, reassuringly.

Laura, being naive about tattoos, didn't question this.

When Ruby entered the room and asked Laura to disrobe, "I need to take your body measurements."

She wasn't told the measurements were necessary because the tramp stamp was just a part of a much larger design that would be added later. It would run down her legs, across her body, and end in a tattoo sleeve on her arm.

She stripped down to her bra and panties. Ruby told her all of it. A little embarrassed, she got nude as she was told. Ruby measured the length of her arms and legs. She also measured the circumferences of her arms, legs, waist, and neck circumferences. When Ruby was finished, she told Laura to get on the tattoo chair.

It reminded her of a massage chair; her knees were supported, and she was told to lean forward against a cushion and place her face in a cradle at the top. She was more than surprised that Ruby opened the door and walked out of the room carrying Laura's clothing.

She is all ready for you, she heard Ruby say. Laura was shocked; she was still completely naked. Steve walked in, followed by Ruby.

"All set?" he asked Laura.

"Can I have my clothes back?" Laura asked,

"Nonsense, they will just get in the way," Steve answered. "Do you want the tattoo or not?"

"Yes," she answered meekly.

"Wonderful, then let's start, I have the measurements I need, and the tattoo will look great on your body," he said.

First, he placed the stencil he had prepared on her body; he already had her measurements from his client, who ordered the tattoo design. Ruby was double-checking them. He laid out his tools and began to work with his tattoo machine. Laura jerked as soon as he touched her. He expected this; he picked a sensitive part of her spine to get this reaction.

"You're going to have to be still if I am to do this," he told her.

"Sorry," she said, "I'll try to stay still."

He started again, picking the same place. She jerked her body again, just as he planned it.

"Do you want this tattoo or not?" he asked her.

"Yes, please, I can't help it," she answered.

"May I secure you so you can't move?" Steve asked.

"Yes, anything you need to do," Laura answered.

"So that you understand, I'll be strapping leather handcuffs to your wrists and pulling your arms forward so you can't move. Is that ok?" Steve asked her.

"Yes, do what you have to do." she answered.

"Ruby, you are my witness. Did you hear Laura say we can tie her up?"

"Yes, Steve, that's what I heard," Ruby answered.

"Wonderful, get the straps. This will save a lot of time when I can work uninterrupted." Steve said.

As promised, they attached leather cuffs around both of Laura's wrists and pulled them forward as far as they could, tying them in place to a hook on the wall. Next, they placed cuffs around her legs and secured them in place. They then shoved a ball gag into her mouth; she tried to protest at this. They then forced her neck down and secured it to the headrest. She couldn't move even if she wanted to.

Next, Laura could feel the needle in the tattoo machine tattooing her flesh. Sometimes, the pain was bearable; other times, she screamed as loud as she could, trying to get away from the intense pain she felt. On and on it went; it was a never-ending nightmare for her; she didn't know getting this tattoo would hurt so much.

Arthur's Field trip

Arthur returned with the Two thousand dollars to pay the outstanding balance. Steve's assistant, Ruby, took the cash.

"Where is Laura?" he asked.

"In the back, getting her tattoo. I can take you to her, but Steve can complete it quicker if he is not interrupted," Ruby answered.

Arthur wanted it done as quickly as possible; he was surprised when he learned the size of the tramp stamp Laura wanted but was only too happy to agree to anything she wanted, so long as she got one.

"I guess I just wait," Arthur answered.

"There are seats over there." Ruby indicated.

Arthur sat there for hours, bored out of his mind. He watched people enter the shop, look at the tattoo photos on the wall, flip through books, and leave.

One woman caught his attention; she was wearing a tight tank top, which showed a generous amount of cleavage, and she had a short skirt, but what caught Arthur's main focus was her tramp stamp. It was a thin Celtic design with a Rose in the center.

She saw him looking at her.

"Waiting for someone?" she asked.

"My wife is getting a tattoo; they said it will be another six hours or so to complete," Arthur replied.

"Wow, it must be pretty large or detailed that they charge two hundred to two hundred and fifty dollars and hour here an hour here, but they are the best shop in the city." The woman replied. "I wish I had a bloke that would spend that much on my tattoos. Hi, I'm Dallas." Dallas added.

"That's an unusual name; my name is Arthur," Arthur replied.

"It was once my stage name, but I like it, so I use it all the time now," Dallas answered. "You look bored out of your mind waiting."

"I am; I should have brought a book with me; I had no idea it would take this long," Arthur answered.

"There's a place next door where you could get a drink or a bite to eat. We can chat a little; the time will pass a lot quicker if you can keep yourself occupied. Would you want to join me?" Dallas asked Arthur.

Arthur looked around the tattoo shop - he had flipped through all the tattoo books, read all of the magazines, and viewed every trashy tattoo photo on the wall one time too many. Why not? Dallas was quite attractive, too, not in the same league as his wife, but still easy on the eyes.

"Ok," he agreed, "Lead the way."

Dallas grabbed him by the arm and pulled Arthur along out of the tattoo shop and into the bright light of a cloudless summer day. Arthur's eyes were still adjusting from the light difference between the two when she quickly pulled him along the sidewalk and into another door. It was dark inside, darker than the tattoo shop; he could hear music as he entered. His eyes were still adjusting to the bright night; now, he was plunged into darkness, and he could barely make out where they were going. Dallas continued to pull him along until they came to a round booth table; she sat in and dragged him to the middle of the leather-padded seat.

Finally, Arthur's eyes adjusted to the darkened interior. Directly in front of him was a topless woman on a stage, dancing to the music. The place was pretty empty this time of day; only a few other customers were seated near the stage. It was then that he realized he was in a topless strip club.

As soon as the music stopped, another woman took the stage; an unseen announcer said, "Give a warm round of applause for Sandy." And another song started.

Dallas was sitting close to him; before he could protest about the type of place she had brought him to, a waitress approached the table.

"Hi Dallas, who is your friend?" she asked.

"This is Arthur; his wife is getting a tattoo next door; and he's killing time. I was interested in adding another one to my collection, but I'm tapped after rent," Dallas said.

"What would you like, Arthur?" the waitress asked.

"Sorry, I'm not here for liquor," Arthur said. "I'll take a water, and do you have any sandwiches?"

The waitress laughed, "We don't serve no water here, and it's a two-drink minimum. But we do have an appetizer menu; I can bring it over. So pick your poison," she pressed.

"OK, a glass of wine." He had no intention of drinking any of it. The last time he had any alcohol was at dinner with his client earlier in the week; after his nightmare call, he swore to God he would never touch another drop again if he would get him out of his jam. God, it seemed, had answered his prayers - he intended to keep his promise.

Arthur was starting to enjoy the show, the topless women with G-strings and micro bikinis barely covering their shaved pussies, leaving little to the imagination, dancing to music for his enjoyment. He barely noticed that the waitress placed a drink in front of him.

"Want to start a tab?" she asked.

He barely heard her, "Huh?" he said.

"Want to start a tab to pay for your drink?" she asked again.

"Yeah, sure," he said, handing over his credit card, his attention still focused on the erotic scene before him.

While the dancers enthralled him, Dallas discreetly slipped something into his drink. She placed her hand on his leg. "Isn't this better than staring at the walls of the tattoo parlor?" she said.

"Yes," he mumbled.

While he didn't intend to drink at all, preoccupied without consciously realizing it, he took the wine glass and took a small swallow. Realizing what he did, he cursed himself, but before long, he took a full swallow. Before he knew it, his glass was empty, and the waitress brought him another. Arthur's pants were uncomfortably tight, even after adjusting himself; he had a raging hard-on. He also felt Dallas's hand move from his leg to his crotch, softly stroking him.

She leaned over to him and whispered close in his ear, "For a hundred dollars, I'll give you a blowjob, I'll take care of you, and then I can get the tattoo I want."

Under the effects of the drug she slipped him, he felt so relaxed.

Technically, it was a date-rape drug, but the dosage was only a quarter of what it should be. He was feeling relaxed and suggestible but not so out of it that he couldn't resist the effects of the drug he really wanted to.

After downing another drink, he agreed.

"We need someplace more private for me to work my magic," Dallas said.

"What? Like a hotel?" he replied.

"No, silly, they have private rooms in the back; you just have to ask one of the dancers for a private dance," she said.

"Ok," he said.

Dallas signaled one of the girls over; she was wearing a skimpy bikini and was a Latina woman of Brazilian descent. She had flawless jambo skin, small breasts, and a dragon tattoo running up her side.

"My friend here would like a private dance," she told her.

"That's thirty dollars." The dancer said.

"But I don't have any cash on me," Arthur replied.

"No problem, they can just add it to your tab, honey," Dallas said, still rubbing his crotch, pressing her body against him; her perfume was intoxicating.

"Ok," he said.

Dallas stood up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him along, the dancer followed. She stopped briefly and whispered something into the dancer's ear, then they continued. Once in the back room, she pushed him down on a padded leather couch, began to undo his pants buttons, and pulled his pants down.

"That's extra..." the dancer began to say,

"I'll take care of him; you just dance, sweetie," Dallas replied.

The next song started, and the dancer removed both her top and bottom; she was completely nude and danced seductively in front of Arthur, while Dallas finished pulling his pants and underwear off. She knelt in front of him and began to give him a nice, slow blowjob. She paid extra attention to his balls. She was a little turned off that he didn't groom his privates, but she was being paid very well to keep him busy, far more than the lousy hundred he was paying her. Suddenly, she remembered the other detail as part of the gig. She stopped sucking Arthur.

"I have to charge my phone," she said. She looked up at him, but his eyes were glued to the dancer in front of him. Dallas removed her phone and charger from her small purse and plugged the charger into an outlet on the side wall and into the phone. She then positioned the phone so it had a good view of him and pressed record. She glanced back at him to see if he had noticed, but his eyes were fixed on the dancer.

Emboldened by this, she decided to press her luck; she removed a second phone and changer and performed the same arrangement on the far wall, pressing record on that one. She looked back at him; he hadn't noticed a thing. Smiling, she moved back to him and began to slowly suck his cock. She was told there would be a nice bonus in it, if she could video him from different angles. One would show everything they did together; the other video would show them and the back of the dancer. It would be very incriminating. She didn't know who was paying her, but she assumed it was his wife.

The song ended, and the dancer said, "Shows over," and began to pick up her clothing. "You two can't stay here; there will be other customers that will want to use this room."

"Another." was all Arthur said.

The dancer shrugged her shoulders, dropped her bikini, and started dancing again for the next song.

Dallas removed Arthurs's shirt, making him completely nude; she sat next to him and began to kiss him passionately. He didn't know where to look, the dancer or Dallas. Dallas removed her top, and she wasn't wearing a bra under it. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. He took the open invitation. At first, he was fondling her breasts, but she positioned her chest in front of him; he sucked on her nipples.

The song ended, "Another?" the dancer inquired.

"Yes," Arthur said.

Dallas turned and looked at the dancer. "Keep them coming; swap out the dancer every three songs; I don't want him to get bored with the background."

"And don't forget," she added.

The dancer was a little insulted at being called background. She was used to being the center of attention when she did private lap dances. But it was a paying gig; she didn't even have to touch him. When the song ended, she bent down to pick up her bikini, but when she did, she fished into his pants pockets and pulled out his keys; as she did this, Dallas distracted Arthur by French kissing him again.

After she left the room, she waved down another dancer and told her, "There was a paying customer, private room number one, to swap out every three songs."

Next, she looked for a man; he was standing not far from the entrance of the club, looking around. She walked up to him, "You the locksmith?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied, "have the keys?"

"I was promised a hundred dollars." the dancer answered.

He handed her a hundred-dollar bill, and she handed over the keys.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes, and you will get another hundred dollars to put them where you found them," he said and left.

The locksmith left the club and hurried over to his mobile locksmith van, parked next to a white Mercedes SUV. He used the keys to gain entrance to the SUV, and once inside, he removed a garage door opener that was inside on the visor. Stepping out of the SUV, he proceeded to the van, opened the side door to the van, and stepped inside.

Within minutes, he had copied the house keys and programmed a new garage opener, cloning the one he removed from the SUV. Next, he returned to the SUV and performed the programming steps to create a clone of the keys. When he was done, he tested the new keys by locking and unlocking the SUV, started it, and turned it off.

When he was satisfied, he exited the SUV and relocked it, returning the remote to the visor. He returned to the strip club and gave the keys to the same dancer but wouldn't reward her until he was sure she entered the back room and replaced the keys. When he was satisfied, he gave her another hundred.

The locksmith stepped outside, and his contact he only knew as Morris was waiting nearby. He handed over the keys and copy of the garage remote and his contact handed him a thick envelope. He opened it and counted three grand. Satisfied, they shook hands and parted ways.

He hated doing this kind of work, but it paid well, and business was slow. Generally, he copied car keys of vehicles that were already stolen; never could he remember copying a key for a car before it was stolen. He was sure that was what would happen was the car would get stolen, and the poor sucker's house would get robbed. His only stipulation was not to steal the SUV in front of the tattoo parlor; he didn't want the police to check any surveillance video camera in the area and see he had been in the car - wait until the owner moves it, then steal it someplace else.

Morris, who now had the keys, walked a block away and entered another van; several other men were waiting inside. They drove to a mansion in one of the more affluent parts of Miami. Using the garage opener, they opened the door and backed their van inside. Once inside, one of the men, wearing a mask approached the key code for disarming the security system. They entered the code; if it was wrong, they had instructions to leave immediately, but the system disarmed, as they expected.

Once the system was disarmed, the men entered the mansion; they had a considerable amount of work and not much time. Quickly, they accessed the attic, began drilling holes, and ran cables inside the walls; hidden cameras were installed in every bedroom in the house and most of the bathrooms. The master bedroom was to get the most attention, with multiple cameras focusing on the master bed. A network digital recorder was installed in the attic, and a new circuit was branched off an existing circuit to give it separate power. They even installed a backup power supply.

While the man was working inside, a young woman who looked a lot like Laura met the internet cable company outside; she explained they needed another fiber cable installed; one wasn't enough. The cable guy explained that several fibers were already installed when they did the initial installation, and he would need to activate the circuit. She told him it had to be done today; he assured her it would be no problem, he could install the box, and it could be activated later.