This story involves characters introduced in previous Director stories:
The Director's Kitten
,
The Director: Lucy
,
The Director Helps a Marriage
, and
The Director: Julie Ann
. I recommend reading those first.
*
The Director typed on a keyboard. He pulled up an account he had created. Pictures of a curvaceous young woman in various states of undress, appeared on the screen. Julie Ann, who had recently been obsessed with the idea of being exposed, now had an outlet. Each day there was a more revealing picture. Originally, Julie Ann had sent the pictures to him to post; now she took care of that herself. Her confidence was growing, as was her list of followers, now in the thousands.
It satisfied her cravings but it was only a matter of time before someone recognized her where she worked at the diner, and that might mean trouble.
He opened his email, stored on a secure server of his own design.
Lucy reported she had met an old friend, Reed, who she had played with many times. It started as usual with a flogging. Then she had surprised him by wanting to suck his cock. As the Director had hypnotized her to do, she orgasmed when he came in her mouth. Now Reed was thinking they had relationship possibilities, which concerned Lucy.
From Catherine Vincent there was a request for something to do. Catherine needed to be useful. He could often put her talents as an aspiring actress to use, or simply let her suck his cock. Each act of sex deepened his control over her, although already she would do anything he asked. He wanted to be careful not to overfeed her or any of the women who served him.
Catherine had helped bring Jane into his service. Jane, too, had sent him an email, letting him know of the bedroom games she had played with Cliff. Both Jane and her husband were submissive by nature, which had created trouble in their marriage. Now they were both submissive to him. He would send Jane instructions on what to do to Cliff, and she, in turn, would dominate her husband. They both wanted to go deeper into that -- Cliff, in his submission to his wife, and Jane, in her dominance of her husband but also her submission to the Director.
They were open books to him. but none of them knew his name. A master of disguise, the Director could walk right past them with him recognizing him. His DNA bent others to his will. Even breathing the same air had some effect, a kiss more, and sex more still. He felt the responsibility of their surrender to him. Today he was contemplating an idea that would help see to their needs. He had gathered the information he needed. It was time for action. He typed out an email to Catherine Vincent, setting his plan in motion.
***
Two nights later an attractive willowy brunette walked into Rick's, a spacious nightclub in a trendy section of town. Rick's had been a strip club not long ago, but that business had gone south as people started staying home and watching more internet porn, and now it hosted a variety of tamer entertainments. It was a Wednesday night, so of course it was slow, but this night it was beyond slow. It was dead. A woman in cowboy boots, daisy dukes, and a polka-dot blouse was doing her best to lead a country line dance with only two line dancers. The bartender was polishing already clean glasses. An older man sat at a table, sorting receipts. The spaciousness of the club made it look even emptier. There were several side rooms, once used for lap dances, but they also appeared empty.
The brunette ignored the dancers and the bar and pulled up a chair across from the old man.
The man looked up, surprised to see a woman half his age paying any attention to him when the action, such as it was, was clearly elsewhere. The woman was dressed smartly in a black cocktail dress with a deep V neckline. Apparently her small perky breasts needed no bra. She carried a small folder with her.
He adjusted his spectacles. "Can I help you?"
"George Fargill?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
She reached into her dress and pulled out a check and placed it on the table. The heading read "The Directorate." It was for thirty thousand dollars, made out to him, but it was unsigned.
Fargill's gaze followed the woman's hand, lingering a moment at her cleavage before looking at the check, and then back at the woman. "What is this about?"
"For the purchase of Rick's nightclub, and all licenses possessed by it," the woman said.
Fargill's eyes grew shrewd. "It's worth a lot more than that."
"The building is, but you lease the building." She put the folder on the table and opened it. "This would be the contract of sale. That lease would convey, of course, but it is a doubtful asset, even though it is for six years, since your receipts barely cover it, and you can't generate more without paying bartenders, dance leaders, and so forth."
Fargill hesitated. "I hadn't thought of Rick's as being for sale, but you're partly right. We're doing better than you think, however. Fifty thousand."
The woman opened her hands. "I came with only one check, and as you see, I have no place to put another one. I might be able to come back next week, with a check for twenty-five thousand, after you lose some more money operating. I'm empowered to sign, but not, I'm afraid, to negotiate."
"Fuck," Fargill started looking through the pages of documents in the folder. "I should get a lawyer to read these through."
"Of course," she said. "Shall I return Friday? I'm afraid the place becomes less valuable to my company the longer you hold it. So as I said, next week the price would have to be lower."
Fargill held his head in his hands and sighed. "I really wanted to make a go of this. Do you know what it's like to have a dream, and fail?"
"Yes," said the woman, showing empathy for the first time. "I wanted to become an actress. I found a new dream. You can, too."
Fargill sighed. "I'll sign now." He started putting his signature on the papers, where the woman directed him. She affixed her signature next to his, on each sheet that required it. Then she signed the check.
He looked at it. "Catherine Vincent, hmm?"
Catherine smiled. "That's me."
"How long have you been working for The Directorate?" he asked. "And what do they want with the place, anyway?"
"We're going to turn it into a sex club, Mr. Fargill," she said with a grin, and grinned more as she chose her words carefully. "And I have been in service to the Director for only a short time, but I have to say, I love it!"
"A sex club? You mean a strip joint? That didn't work here before. Good luck with it. You'll need it." He got up and walked over to the bartender, presumably to give him the news that Rick's was in new hands.
Catherine looked around. There would be some remodeling to do. The tables and chairs were drab wood, the walls were bare, and the cream-colored wallpaper was worn. Maybe Master would seduce an interior decorator. She couldn't wait to see what he had planned for the place.
***
Two weeks later the neon "Rick's" sign, a relic of the hangout's strip club days, had been replaced by a smaller "Incognito" in tasteful silver on black script lettering. Those walking inside would scarcely believe they were at the same address. Those
allowed
