This chapter ends the Nude Noir story. I strongly recommend reading chapters 1 and 2 in order before reading this.
This story is a work of fiction. Some real institutions are mentioned, but they are used fictitiously. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those institutions has ever behaved as do the characters in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading this.
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Ali got her limited intern license with no problems. Paul and Lilith wanted us to stay at The Cove, which made my office in downtown Tampa very inconvenient. Besides that, my old office was a dump. Ali found us a storefront space in a strip center several miles south of The Cove on US 41. The one drawback was that the entire front of the space was a clear plate glass window. That would largely preclude in-office nudity. Ali solved that problem by sweet-talking the landlord into giving us a set of blinds that covered the entire front. We could open and close them at our discretion. When closed, the side of the blinds facing the parking lot and street showed the message "Private Investigators" above the larger word "CONFIDENTIAL," with our phone number at the bottom.
Ali, who was the resident expert, also decreed that my desktop computer was wholly inadequate. When she finished compiling her hardware and software shopping list, I found a bank which would loan us the $ 25,000 required. The first thing Ali and I ever signed jointly was a promissory note.
The computer investment proved its worth early. An architectural firm hired us after it fell prey to a phishing scam which led to $ 300,000 being transferred out of its account. The police and the firm's bank determined the money had gone somewhere overseas and gave up. Ali was able to charm a bank IT guy into letting her into the bank's computers to trace the transfer. Ali followed the money to the Latvian account of a firm with no apparent existence beyond that account. She hacked the Latvian bank and transferred the money back to our client. She promised there would be no blowback. The Latvian bank's computers would show a hack from an ISP address assigned to the Russian government. Our bonus for that job equaled my gross the year before.
We continued to work for Paul and Lilith Westerfeld. Due to Kim Bowen, we did background checks on all their employees. We learned that the Westerfelds owned another, larger resort called Cypress Stand outside Orlando. CS had more indoor facilities, like pools and hot tubs, than The Cove and did better business in winter. Ali and I stayed at CS for a couple of days while I assessed physical security and Ali assessed cyber-security. It amused me that I was being paid to wander around buck naked.
Around Ali's and my "first anniversary," we got an unusual assignment from Paul and Lilith. There was a resort along I-75 south of Gainesville, called BT Resort. The owners wanted to sell out to the Westerfelds. BTR was more "adult-themed" than The Cove and CS. Paul and Lilith wanted to know what that meant and the usual things like condition of the physical plant, room for expansion, etc. The Westerfelds asked us to go to BTR as guests and report back.
Ali and I got a room for Thursday and Friday nights the weekend before Halloween. Our first impression of BTR was disappointing. The property had obviously been one of those chain motels that were built at Interstate exits in the 1960s. This one had apparently been built in an L shape around a small swimming pool. The pool was now enclosed by an opaque fence. There were enclosed walkways running from the original structure to two metal buildings: one in part of what had been the parking lot and the other nestled against the Interstate right-of-way fence.
Ali and I shared a dubious look as we went to check in. A bored young woman stood at a computer terminal behind a chest-high counter. We had to show photo IDs and the woman spent some time scrolling on her terminal screen before she took my credit card. We were given two key cards and buzzed through a solid door opposite the one leading outside. We were also given a brochure titled "Welcome to BT Resort." The introduction said "BT stands for broken taboos. You are encouraged to break taboos, both societal and personal, during your stay. Please be aware that all forms of sexual conduct between consenting heterosexuals are permitted and encouraged anywhere within BT Resort. LGBTQ sexual conduct is permitted and encouraged in the LGBTQ Space. We also encourage all members of the straight and LGBTQ communities to try the sexual practices of the other community during your stay." After we read that, Ali joked, "Ian, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."
Behind reception was a restaurant/bar which had been opened up so that the bar also served the pool. There were about a couple dozen people around the pool, but none in it. No one was completely nude, but most people's outfits left their asses bare and exposed tits, pubes, or both.
Ali said, "Ian, I didn't bring anything appropriate to wear here." We solved problem in a small shop that had been made from a couple of guest rooms. The shop was priced for a captive clientele, but we figured we could claim a few items as reimbursable expenses. Ali found a transparent bodysuit with small stars woven into the material. "I can wear this for the evenings," she said. Ali picked out black and dark blue spandex pouches for me to wear. A patch of the material covering my dick was attached with Velcro so Ali could expose me if she chose to.
Before we checked out, Ali stopped at a shelf filled with what looked to me like dog collars. "You know what these are, don't you?" Ali asked.
"No," I replied.
"Unless I'm mistaken," Ali said, "these are sub collars. The submissive in a D-S relationship wears this around her neck to show that she is 'owned' by a dom. As I understand the etiquette, anyone else who wants to interact with an 'owned' sub needs to get her dom's permission first." Ali picked up a collar, held it against her throat, and looked in a mirror. "It might save me some hassle to wear one here."
"I'd never claim to 'own' you," I said.
"Of course not," Ali replied sweetly. "We're partners. We have equal ownership of each other."
Our room was what I expected. It likely had not been refurbished since before Ali was born. There was an air conditioner built into the outside wall below a sealed window that looked out on vacant land. To the far right, I periodically saw the top of a semi on the Interstate. The room's door opened onto a concrete walkway from which we could look down on the pool and patio bar. I noticed that some of the concrete was crumbling and there was rust on the supporting steel.
We hadn't seen any other places to eat as we came in, and we were there to assess the "resort," so we ate in the resort restaurant. Ali looked gorgeous and very sexy in her bodysuit. I wasn't sure I liked the symbolism, but the collar around her throat was erotic. She drew attention as we walked and were seated.
Our server was pleasant, attentive, and good-looking. She introduced herself as Patty. She was a blonde, about Ali's age, in high heels, a thong, and a transparent top. She also wore rather thick padded cuffs around her wrists and ankles with hooks on them. Being ignorant in the ways of BTR, I asked Patty about the cuffs.
Patty giggled. "Those are for what we call 'inverse tips.' At the end of the meal, if you didn't like the service, or just feel like it, you can take me over there." Patty pointed to a large wooden X- shaped frame against a wall. There were short chains at each end of the X and paddles hanging on the wall next to it. "You hook those chains to my cuffs so I can't move," Patty explained, "and use one of those paddles to spank me." Patty giggled. "Some nights, my ass is red for the whole shift." I glanced at Ali. Her expression said she was not impressed.
When Patty brought our after-dinner drinks, Ali said to her, "This is our first time here. What do people do in the evening?"
"Everything is in the outbuildings," Patty replied. "If you take the walkway towards the Interstate, you'll be in the LGBTQ Space. I don't go there a lot, but it can be fun to watch. The walkway at the end of this building goes to the dungeon and the auditorium. The dungeon is what you'd expect: bondage and S & M." Patty pointed at a very fit young man wearing a pouch like mine. "Gary, my boyfriend, and I work in the auditorium after we get off here at 9:30. It is fun. There is a bar at the back. They've got bleachers, like you'd see in a high school gym, and a performance area."
I thought I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. "What sort of performances do they have?"
"When you go in, there's a girl at the door, Jenny. You can give Jenny your first names and sit down. Sometime during the night, she'll call your names. When she does, you come to a small room underneath the bleachers. Gary and I undress you. Then you go out to the performance area. There's a padded table with a sheet on it. You can use that or not as you like. You can fuck, suck, masturbate, whatever you like. You just have to come for the audience. Once you're done, Gary and I come out, change the sheet, clean up, and Jenny calls two more names."
"What if none of the guests give their names?" Ali asked.
Patty smiled. "In that case, Gary and I perform. If no one volunteers for the whole night, we alternate between Gary and me and Jenny and Ron. Sometimes, if it's slow, Vicky will come out from the bar and we do a threesome." We left Patty a large tip.
After dinner, Ali said, "We need to look around. Want to try the LGBTQ Space first?" I nodded. We walked around the pool and along the walkway. As I opened the door for Ali, the first thing I saw was a nude person with shoulder-length blonde hair, a gorgeous face with a touch of make-up, big tits, and a dick hanging between his/her legs. A man with some sort of a cage around his dick came up to the blonde, began kissing her/him, then knelt and started giving a blowjob. We left the LGBTQ Space.