The Tower
Prologue
The pilot checked around him, nodded to the co-pilot and moved the throttle levers. The twin Pratt & Whitney P207D1 turboshaft engines smoothly spooled up, their whine becoming more of a growl. He gently lifted the collective, pushed the cyclic and the blades of the Bell 429 bit into the air; the growl calmed to a smooth rumble as the helicopter lifted and the aircraft rose easily into the humid Texas air.
The load was rather light for the powerful copter; the Houston skyline falling behind as the demarcation between land and ocean swept under them. As the copter flew southeast the steel islands of the drilling rigs started to dot the horizon and the flat Gulf below.
There were bunches and singles, some with drilling derricks still assembled; on others the tower had been removed as the structure was now used only for production and as a maintenance platform. They flew on, the land becoming lost in the haze; then lost below the horizon. The platforms spread out with a few closer together, others had several miles between each one. The pilot checked his instruments. The GPS indicated their destination was about another 20 minutes ahead. This tower too had the drilling gear removed. The structure seemed a bit newer than the others, though this really wasn't the case. It had received a bit better care lately and was simply shining in it's refreshed state.
The headphones of the pilots as well as the ear buds secured in the "cargo" filled with the strains of Seal's "Kiss From a Rose". The pilot smiled at the description of the "Tower alone on the gray" ...though today the color is a greenish blue. He knows his cargo is awake, though unseeing; the large cooler keeping her confined, the bonds she wears also quite sufficient. The c-pap machine connected to the air supply and battery keeps her well oxygenated, the other vital signs are monitored on a portable display between the seats.
The display shows a slightly elevated heart rate - which doesn't surprise him - but all other signs are normal. The temperature inside the container is 80 degrees, warm but not unbearable plus the air she is getting is at 70 degrees, so that helps keep her core from overheating. He suspects - correctly - that she is at the least afraid. Possibly tending toward terror, but the heart rate doesn't indicate that much fear. He thinks back to their first meeting and how it came to this point.
The copter circled the tower, the pilots noting the wind direction by the position of the American Flag on the lighthouse. The light served as a warning to boat captains foolish enough to be driving around without GPS and radar. It also had other, more hidden purposes to the construction. One circuit complete, the bird settled down gently onto the flight deck in the center of the "safe zone".
Chapter 1
Marq Stevens signaled the bartender for a refresher, putting a $20.00 bill down as he did so. She smiled and poured another double of Blue ice vodka on the rocks, dropped a pair of jalapeno stuffed queen olives into the glass and swiped a small lime peel around the rim.
Stevens watched the people casually moving into the private dining room. He had already checked it out and decided to wait outside and reconnoiter the arriving guests. It was almost lunch time, the munch would be starting soon. He rarely drank so early in the day, but he considered this a special occasion and being such, deemed appropriate for a drink. He recognized several of the people, one or two nodded and smiled at him as they passed through the doors. It was looking like a decent sized crowd might show up. Already ten people had arrived and it was still early. After a few more guests had arrived he spotted a very interesting arrival, or more precisely, two.
One was a very petite female, a member he had met on several earlier visits. She was both very pretty and very vibrant She was outgoing and adventurous; and some of her activities at the after parties demonstrated her preferences for being a definite painslut. Her companion was a newcomer to the group, or at least for the times he had attended. He was a welcomed out of town guest, perhaps she was as well. His eyes tracked her as the line from the classic by Bob Seger ran through his mind..."She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes....with points all her own sitting way up high....way up firm and high...." She definitely fit his definition of statuesque - nice legs and large tits. Her breasts filled the soft sweater impressively and though her legs were covered by capris they molded close enough to her skin that her ass and thighs were quite appealing. Her long brunette hair flowed down her back, a style seen more often on a girl rather than the woman she obviously was.
Girls were fine; fun to watch and occasionally tease. But they were a pain to train and he was well past girls. His preference was a woman; a woman of intelligence and understanding. Someone he didn't have to explain things to nor have to put up with all the giggling or drama. This one seemed young enough to be adventurous and mature enough to know what was going on.
Target acquired.
Stevens caught the bartender's eye and pointed to the window on the other side of the bar that opened into the private room and nodded. She smiled and nodded back and he walked into the room.
A small sign on a table easel said "BOINK" which was an acronym for "BOstonians INto Kink". Stevens wasn't a Bostonian, nor had he ever been. He was, however, well known in the local bdsm community and liked to time his necessary business trips with the groups munch schedule. He was able to attend occasionally and communicated with several of the members while he was in other places.
"Hey, cowboy!" said one of the male members, stepping over to Marq and clapping his hand on his shoulder. His greeting was loud enough to get several other guests' attention, including the brunette's. Stevens certainly didn't look like a cowboy, dressed in a worn leather pilot's jacket, blue cashmere crew necked sweater, charcoal gray slacks and black loafers.
"Hey, beaner!" Marq replied smiling, the exchange a usual trading of slight insults both had enjoyed for years. The "beaner", Charles Griffin, was a long time friend who expected the retort. Griffin offered the hand that had been on Marq's shoulder and they shook. Marq tilted his head towards the brunette and raised an eyebrow. She had joined her companion at a nearby table. Griffin smiled and gave an "don't know" shrug and pushed their hands in the woman's direction, pointing with his thumb. Marq took the hint and moved to her side, carefully cutting off another guy who had apparently spotted the pair as well. He recognized the other male as a younger, rather obnoxious at times want-a-be dom. Stevens pulled the chair out and softly inquired "Anyone sitting here?"
The brunette looked up and smiled a bit apprehensively, and shook her head. He sat down, took a sip and placed his glass between them. The tables filled up, a light banter and greetings floating around. Several women came up and hugged Stevens' shoulders and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. One tall blonde in a leather skirt and top turned his head with her fingers and found his lips for solid kiss, then narrowed her eyes while smiling evilly. "Marq, you are a baaad, baaad, boy" she said.
"And you like me that way" he replied, smiling widely. "A greeting like that might get you a spanking."
"Promises, promises....and I KNOW you won't keep them." She said laughing. She bent and gave his lips another quick peck, then straightened. "Dessert after?" She asked.
"Of course. As always." Stevens answered. "Might keep that promise...." His smirk hinted that she might get her treat after all. She wiggled and shivered, stuck her tongue out at him, then licked her lips and turned away.
The brunette had watched all of this exchange with interest; she asked Marq
"I take it you two are....close?"
He gave a small grin and said "We've played a few times is all. I just know where she likes to be tickled with a whip. She also enjoys a spanking and the crop, too" Stevens offered his hand. "I'm Marq. Nice to meet you."
The brunette took it, her hand was warm and firm, not limp, which Stevens noticed and liked.
"I'm Traci," she replied. "Nice to meet you as well."
"Are you a new member?" Stevens asked. She shook her head.
