Of Crystals and Watches

Jason opened his eyes, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, or perhaps from his crotch would be more accurate. He certainly felt lighter, or at least less frustrated. He couldn't hear anything from his phone, so he must have woken up before his alarm.

He stared at the ceiling, replaying the events of the previous night. Actually, there was only one event on his mind: Samantha's blowjob. He felt...OK with it, he was finding.

He had needed release and she provided it without reservation. Something still didn't feel right about it to Jason, though it had less to do with the blowjob specifically and more with the larger situation he was finding himself in. Everything happened so easily and casually, he could feel that there was something unusual lurking just below the surface. Maybe there was some aftereffect from whatever Dr. Davis was doing that was still at play.

Jason reached over to his nightstand and pulled the drawer out to see the crystal, the whorestone, still sitting in it, nestled into a corner. According to Desiree its effects wore off after the victim slept, so it shouldn't be having any further impact.

But what if Desiree was lying? What if Dr. Davis had somehow found a way around that limitation? There were so many possibilities and Jason was wading into a dark sea of unknown variables.

As these thoughts rolled around in his head the alarm on his phone went off and it began playing music.

"Here comes the sun," the lyrics began. "Here comes the sun, and I say, it's alright."

"Hmph," Jason grunted, sitting up on his bed before turning off the alarm.

"You're right, George Harrison, the sun is coming," he commented, looking at the morning light coming through the window blinds. Filled with an odd sense of optimism, Jason stood up and began going about the business of starting his day.

It didn't occur to him that George Harrison wrote 'Here Comes the Sun' as a song of false hope, about a good day that only delayed inevitable and painful events, long in the making, that would change his life forever.

***

"Wha-" Victor asked, bleary eyed as he was torn from his sleep by the loud banging on his motel room door. He blinked several times, adjusting to the morning light sneaking in between the closed shades.

Another round of loud knocking caused Victor to throw his blankets off and jump to his feet. He grumbled to himself as he stomped to the door.

"What?" he asked the moment he opened it, a rasp in his voice. It wasn't until after the word left his mouth that he registered that it was Elise knocking on his door, another black suit on, though she had exchanged the skirt for pants. She was still wearing those sunglasses.

"It's time we started," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"Really?" he asked, incredulous. "You arrived here at, what, two in the afternoon yesterday?" he continued even as she stepped past him into the motel room. "We had plenty of time to start, but you wanted to laze about in your hotel."

Elise sighed before sitting on the desk next to the TV. "Close the door, will you?"

Victor complied with the request before sitting down on the nearer bed. For a moment the two stared at each other, silent.

"I wasn't lazing about," Elise said, breaking the quiet. "I needed time to...recover from my flight. Regardless, now is the time to start the job we were both sent here to do."

"Find this Reginald Davis and kill him," Victor replied.

"That's your part of the job," Elise commented. "Mine is to recover a valuable item he stole from the boss, and I need him alive until I've done so."

"Hm," Victor grunted in response. "Then for the time being we settle for finding Reginald Davis."

"How would we go about doing that?" Elise asked. "That falls more under your area of expertise than mine."

Victor stood and walked over to where his jacket hanged next to the door. He took his crystal out of the pocket and held it in the palm of his hand, showing it to Elise without lighting it up. "We just need to get this to the right person," he said.

***

"Morning, Des," Mavis said between bites of cereal as Desiree into the kitchen.

"Morn," Des barely managed to vocalize, her uncombed hair standing on end in all different kinds of directions. She walked to the fridge, shoulders slumped.

"Rough night?" Mavis asked, watching the younger woman.

"Long night," Desiree responded.

"What kept you up?" Mavis pressed. "I hope it wasn't one of those nightmares again."

"No," Desiree answered before pulling a carton of orange juice out of the fridge

"Want to tell me about it?" Mavis asked, meaning well by the question.

Desiree held up a finger in the 'wait one moment' pose as she started slamming the juice down her parched throat.

"Ah," she let out once she'd had her fill, wiping away a dribble of drink that had managed to come down the wrong side of her lips. "Is Master here?" she asked.

"No, he and Sam already left," Mavis answered.

Desiree nodded before taking another sip of orange juice. She swallowed before she continued the conversation.

"Then I can go ahead and tell you that Sam made progress with Master last night," she said as she screwed the cap back onto the carton. "He asked her for a blowjob."

"Oh, that's great!" Mavis exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Things are looking up for us!"

"Uhm-hm," Desiree responded with a nod.

"When did Sam tell you?" Mavis asked.

"Last night," Desiree answered, hoping to keep details to herself.

"Oh, well, why didn't she tell me?" Mavis asked.

"It was late," Desiree answered quickly. "We didn't want to wake you," she added to try pad out her response. She then unscrewed the cap on the orange juice and started drinking from the carton again in the hopes that it would keep Mavis from digging deeper. If the older woman knew the full story Desiree was sure that would lead to some unintended consequences.

"Hm..." Mavis hummed, fixing Desiree with a look as she studied the blonde. But any observation she might have offered were pushed down the priority list by the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

Desiree hurriedly dropped the orange juice from her lips, sharing confused looks with Mavis. "Did Sam or Master forget something?" she asked.

Mavis shook her head as she stood from her seat. "Unless it was their keys, I don't see why they would knock." She walked out towards the door while Desiree put the orange juice back in the fridge and followed.

Once they reached the door Mavis opened it to reveal Liz standing on the porch.

"We have a problem," she said without greeting.

"What is it, honey?" Mavis asked.

"Someone's coming for us," Liz answered.

Desiree went wide eyed at that statement, rushing out past Mavis and grabbing Liz by the shoulders. "Where did you see them?! What did they look like?! How many of them were there?!"

"What?" Liz asked, giving Desiree a look somewhere between confusion and fear.

"Des," Mavis said in a soft but firm voice, placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You look and sound like a crazy person right now."

Desiree let go of Liz and ran her hand through her own uncombed and unwashed hair, feeling the tangled mess of blonde strands.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking a step back. "You were saying?"

"...right," Liz said after some hesitance. "It's my mom and step-mom, they're coming to Montfort."

"Step-mom?" Mavis asked. "How did that happen?"

"Dad died when we were kids, and Mom came out as bi a few years later and started dating a woman, who is now our step-mom." Liz explained. "Anyway, that's not the point. They're coming here."

"Why are they coming?" Desiree asked.

"In a word, Sarah," Liz answered. "I don't think we've told you guys, but she had a boyfriend before her enslavement. She broke up with him over text once we were made aware of our belonging to Master."

"Well, what else was she supposed to do?" Mavis offered. "Besides, is he even attending school here? How serious could it be?"

"Oh, they'd been childhood sweethearts since middle school, and everyone thought they would get married after finishing college," Liz replied. "We were all supposed to come here, but he got a last minute scholarship offer from a big school in the Bay Area, so he decided to go there instead. He and Sarah had committed to a long-distance relationship, so I'm sure he was surprised when he got dumped."

"But where does your mom come in?" Mavis asked.

"She's been trying to call and text Sarah about it for days now," Liz explained. "She just wants an explanation for the sudden change of heart, but Sarah keeps blowing her off. Apparently my step-mom got tired of hearing about it so they're going to drive up here to talk to Sarah directly."

"How long until they get here?" Desiree questioned.

"They have to wait until my step-mom gets a few days off work, so they won't leave for another week at least," Liz answered.

"Then we'll deal with them when they get here," Mavis said. "Worst comes to worst, we use the watch to make them understand."

"You need to learn that that damned thing isn't the solution to every problem," Desiree commented.

"But it is useful," Mavis countered. "You can't just lock it away and act like it doesn't exist."

Desiree pouted, knowing that there some truth to Mavis' argument, but wishing it weren't so.

***

Elise tried to calm her nerves with deep breaths as she sat in a chair, waiting. She was a very competent woman, but her areas of expertise were administration, finances, and other aspects of running a large business. Subterfuge and criminal activities were not part of her portfolio.

Yet they were what was required to complete the task her boss had set her on, and it was just the truth that Elise always obeyed her boss.

Across the room from her was a female secretary sitting at a desk.

"Ms. Smith," the woman called Elise by the fake name the blonde had given her. "The Chief is ready to see you."

"Thank you," Elise responded before standing up and walking through the door next to the secretary's desk. She stepped into the office to find an older man with grey hair and a mustache sitting behind a desk, waiting for her. He leaned back in his seat, letting Elise get a good look at his police badge. She recognized it for what it was: someone in a position of petty authority trying to flex their status over another.

"I understand you're a private detective," he said in a slow drawl before Elise had a chance to sit down.

"Yes, I am," Elise said in keeping with cover story that Victor had instructed her to use.

"Hmph," the police chief grunted, unimpressed, before gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Go ahead and take a seat, we'll see if I can help you with whatever it is you're investigating."

Elise sat herself in the chair, holding a briefcase in her lap.

"I would ask that you take those off," the chief commented, pointing at the sunglasses Elise was wearing. "Don't know 'bout you, but where I'm from wearing something like that to an important meeting is considered rude."

"My apologies, sir, but I'm afraid I can't," Elise replied. "I have a condition that requires me to wear them," she lied. "Similar to the one that Bono, the lead singer of U2, has."

"U2?" the police officer asked. "Ain't that that Scottish band?"

"Irish," Elise corrected him.

"Whatever," the man replied dismissively. "What do you need?"

"I understand that you're the person to go to the case of the college psychiatrist a few towns over who was caught sexually abusing his patients," Elise said.

"Ah, yes, over in Montfort," the chief confirmed. "A ways from here, but since we don't have any big cities out here the county gets saddled with all the casework."

"My clients have a daughter that was a student at the college last year before transferring away suddenly," Elise explained, continuing with her cover story. "I have been hired to investigate if she might have been a victim."

"Couldn't they just ask the daughter?" the chief asked.

"You know how it is with these kinds of cases, the victims often feel too ashamed to admit to what happened," Elise replied, sprinkling her fabricated story with a bit of truth.

"Hmph," the old police man grunted, fixing Elise with an unbelieving stare. "Seems fishy to me."

"As I understand it, the doctor is not going to defend himself in court, so the records should be available for me since they're not part of an ongoing investigation." Elise pointed.

"Technically, yes," the police officer replied. "But I also don't have to give them to you."

"Excuse me?" Elise asked.

The police chief straightened himself in his seat with a grunt of effort. "There's something about you I don't like," he said. "Now, I trust you can see yourself out."

Elise smiled thinly, purely as a show of courtesy, as she got out of the chair. "Well, thank you for your time," she said before walking out of the police chief's office.

The man's secretary smiled weakly at Elise, clearly with an idea of what happened in the office. Both women winced when the older man slammed the door behind Elise.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" the office worker questioned.

"Yeah, can you show me to the ladies' room?" Elise asked in return.

"Sure, just go out the door, then..." the secretary began before Elise started shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that I'm terrible with directions, can't ever remember them. It would be better if you just showed me."

"Um, OK," the secretary responded as she got out of her seat. She made her way out into the hallway, Elise following behind.

The blonde felt in her pocket for the special tool she had brought in with. Truthfully, it was much more than a mere tool, but she could not bring herself to use it unless she thought about it in those terms.

"Here we are," the secretary said, stopping at a door with a women's restroom sign.

"Thank you," Elise said with a practiced lie of a smile before grabbing the other woman by the wrist and pulling her into the restroom.

"Ah!" the secretary yelped before Elise drew her special tool.

Out of her pocket came Victor's whorestone, glowing that beguiling glow. The moment the secretary's eye caught it the screams died in her throat and she stared blankly at the crystal.

"So that's what it looks like," Elise whispered. She found herself with an expression not dissimilar to the other woman, though thanks to her special sunglasses it was not because she was entranced by the light. But she shock her head, remembering that she had a job to do. For her boss.

"Can you hear me?" Elise asked.

"...yes," the entranced woman answered.

"Are you capable of making convincing forgeries of prisoner transfer forms?" Elise followed up.

"...yes," the secretary confirmed.

Elise pulled a piece of paper from her briefcase and, not seeing pockets on the other woman's dress, folded it up and stuffed it into her bra.

"When you wake up you will return to your desk as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened," Elise ordered. "But when you have an opportunity you will follow the directions on that piece of paper I just gave you. Am I understood?"

"...yes," the secretary answered once again.

"Good," Elise said before putting the whorestone back in her pocket. The secretary blinked as her conscious mind returned before stepping out of the restroom, not acknowledging Elise's presence.

Elise took a deep breath to calm her nerves before coming out of the restroom herself. She began to walk out of the police building, eyeing every uniformed cop and suit wearing detective she crossed paths with, unreasonably nervous that they would catch on to her.

Once out of the building, Elise got in her rented car. She took a few deep breaths to try and recompose herself, but once her nerves were gone self resentment took their place. With a scowl on her face she started the engine and drove a few blocks away to a parking lot. Victor was waiting for her there, alone.

"Were you able to find someone?" the hitman asked, leaning against his motorcycle.

"Some woman, you mean," Elise said with more venom than she had intended to let show. She pulled the whorestone out of her pocket and shoved it towards Victor. "Here," she said curtly.

Victor glanced at Elise's sunglasses covered face before taking the crystal from her. "I take it that was your first time using one," he commented.

"What do you think?!" She snapped back.

Victor shrugged his shoulders, trying to downplay the moment. "I suppose a woman couldn't use one without getting caught in it themselves, normally anyway," he commented. "But were you successful?"

"Yes," Elise answered. "I was able to get the Police Chief's secretary alone in the bathroom. She has the directions you wrote."

"Secretary, good choice," Victor said. "Has access to everything, yet is often overlooked."

Elise didn't respond to the hitman's praise, instead turning away and looking out at the small town they were in. She wasn't surprised at Victor's perceptiveness, it was a skill he had to have to be as good at his job as he was. Still, she wasn't keen on leaving herself emotionally vulnerable to him, inadvertently or otherwise.

"I think I get you," Victor commented, seeming to sense Elise's hesitation. "I don't know too much about your group, but for how much, and with what, you pay me, I can guess that they're very powerful. Considering what this little stone is capable of, and that they decided to give one to me, I'll bet they've got something stronger saved for themselves."

Elise chuckled despite herself. Victor was even more perceptive than she had first given him credit for. He was almost but not quite right with his conjecture, though.

"Perhaps," the blonde woman said, turning back to the hitman with a stoic expression plastered onto her face.

"Hmph," Victor grunted at her response. "Well, I'd imagine that a beautiful woman like you wasn't spared," he added.

Elise frowned, her facade breaking. "No, I wasn't," she said.

"I won't press for details," Victor assured her.

"Thank you," Elise replied, genuine in her gratefulness.

"Anyway, I should get going, I've got a trap to prepare," Victor commented, climbing onto his motorcycle. "Next time you see me, I'll have our man." With that he retracted the kickstand and started the engine.

"Good luck," Elise said as the hitman drove away. After all, if he didn't succeed, then she couldn't either,