Haze at the Fools Gold

Authors note: This is a stand-alone story, though I hope to build on it and create several stories involving this location.

*This story contains heavy themes of Drugs and Addictions. There are also themes of lesbian D/s, BDSM, Human trafficking, and nonconsenting/reluctance.

*I apologize for my most likely butchery of the Russian language. I used a translator, and I do hope the words make sense.

*Lastly, a big thank you to Jordan Church and Katie_cat for helping me Edit. I appreciate you both for giving me your time and talent.

Haze at the Fools Gold Club.

I keep staring at the empty vape cartridge in my hand. Rotating it slowly. Reading the word 'Haze.' inscribed on the colorless cartridge. I've got a bad feeling in my guts that this idea of Tracy's will backfire on us.

Breathing in deeply, I look to find my center, my focus. "I can do this. I can go in there and help be a second set of eyes for Tracy. I mean, she's only been in there for over an hour and a half." I tell myself.

I was expecting a text from her a little while ago. We'd agreed that she would keep contact every half an hour. So what if she missed the second check-in?

Breathe...

"Okay," I tell myself again, this time looking at myself in the car's rearview mirror, trying to pump up my courage. "You can do this. There is less chance of another obduction if I am there to back her up. If that's even what's going on. There's strength in numbers and all that."

Without giving my brain a chance, I open the car door and step out. I look over the roof of the car to the BDSM club, 'Fools Gold.'

** A few days earlier **

"I don't know what else to do. The police say there isn't enough to go on and that it'll take time. I'm worried for my little sister." Ms. Calhoon tells Tracy and me from across the table. The look of distress is clear on Ms. Calhoon's face.

Tracy leans in, resting her hand assuringly on Ms. Calhoon's. "It's going to be all right. Lea and I are professionals. We can help... We will find your little sister."

I really wish she didn't make promises like that. I struggle enough to keep simple promises. Still... Tracy's confidence has always been something I admire. I nod my head in an attempt also to reassure Ms. Calhoon.

"You can count on us," I say, though my words are low. Weak. I fidget and decide to reach for my cup of coffee. "Maybe you could go over things one more time for us?"

"Grace and her friend Angie went clubbing a week ago and haven't returned. It's not like either of them to disappear like that. Grace's work has been calling, asking why she has been missing shifts. I called Angie's college, and they say she's also been absent."

Ms. Calhoon stops and takes a deep breath. "The police haven't been much help. There is always some excuse or fields of red tape and paperwork. A friend recommended you both to help investigate privately. She said that you are very good."

Tracy smiled, leans into me, and grabs my shoulders. "Lea's incredibly good. She's the brains of our success. Me, I'm just here to back her up."

The fucking liar. I cannot help but blush at her praise, though, and fold my hands in my lap, trying to make myself smaller. I hate it when people pay attention to me. "Tracy's being modest." I say, "The red tape and paperwork can be very frustrating. It's a big reason Tracy and I left the bureau."

I pinch my chin in thought, "Still, it is concerning. I've read about a significant increase in people who have gone missing recently, especially in the age range of Grace and Angie, those in their early twenties, though a few also in their later twenties, like Tracy and me. Is there anything else you can tell us that might help?"

Ms. Calhoon looks increasingly stressed as she reaches into her purse and pulls out an empty vape cartridge. "I found this in Grace's room. I don't know if it has anything to do with her going missing, but ever since she started vaping this stuff, she's been a bit... different."

"Different, how?" I ask.

I see Tracy pick up and examine the cartridge. Tracy then pulls out her own Vape pen, "Shit, this thing looks universal. It even plugs into mine," she says with an exuberant smile.

"Well, I don't really know how to describe it. Grace started spending much more time isolating in her room. She would turn her music up loud to drown out any sounds. When I did see her, she'd look to be in... well, a haze. Irritable and... sore?" Ms. Calhoon said the last word as if it were a question.

"Sore?" I press.

"Yeah. I think that kind of describes it. Like she'd been..." Ms. Calhoon looks slightly embarrassed, "like she just finished a marathon of rough sex."

"Oh, my." Tracy says, her tone filled with excitement and curiosity as she re-examined the 'Haze' cartridge. "This is starting to sound far more interesting than the infidelity cases we usually get commissioned for."

** Present time **

The Fools Gold Club was the last place Grace and Angie had gone clubbing, according to the last few text messages Tracy and I could dig up between family and friends.

Looking into the club, I discovered that the building was once a large dance club, now repurposed into a BDSM club by the new owner, Tatiana Volkova. A woman who famously made her money from several adult toy companies and a successful adult film studio. It was unclear what other things this woman had her hat into.

The club was far larger than most dance clubs I have seen, though dance clubs were never my scene throughout my youth. Now, in my late twenties, I seldom spend my free time outside. I have always been more of a homebody, my nose deep in fantasy novels.

Unlike me, Tracy has always been far more outgoing and outspoken. She often faces situations and dilemmas head-on, a trait I envy. When she insisted we investigate the Fools Gold club ourselves, I was resistant at first. Crowded places like that tend to magnify my introversion.

We compromised when I proposed going in at staggered times, mostly in hopes that she would find it fruitless and we could pursue other options in our search for Grace.

Cowardly, I know.

My first worry is that something happened when Tracy did not check-in. I am just hoping that she is okay and has found a lead that is keeping her occupied and unable to message me. Still, I did tell her I would join in the search... so I guess I'll... do that.

Why am I like this? Why can't I be as driven as Tracy? If not for her, I probably would still be wasting away in that tiny ass cubicle back at the bureau.

There is a small lineup of younger adults waiting to get in, all gussied up, some wearing leather outfits to make a scene on the dance floor. Tracy had made sure she and I dressed up to better fit in. She had gotten us similar faux leather skirts that went up to mid-thigh. I chose to wear a button-up blouse, while she wore her denim jacket and a grunge band shirt.

It is not long before I am admitted. The imposing bouncer checking identification scans me over, his rough grimace making me wilt. The man's arms are bigger than my waist. I will grant that my waist is not big for my five-foot-six frame. I wonder if Tracy was as intimidated as I am by this behemoth.

Walking into the club, I am completely dazzled by its aesthetics. I was not sure what to expect from a dance club turned into a BDSM club, but seeing everything, it makes far more sense.

Inside, I see it is two stories tall with exceedingly high ceilings. The main floor is finely carpeted, encircling a depressed dancing area set before a sizeable performing stage, all with dark lacquered hardwood flooring.

From where I'm standing, I can see two separate bars, one to my left and the other to my right. Each is crowded with people trying to buy drinks. Along the walls, there look to be several areas meant for socializing, including couches and tables. I can also see that the upstairs looks restricted. The security admits some people up and bars others, though I can't tell what criteria it takes to be allowed up there.

There is a strong BDSM theme coursing through the place. There are chains decorations suspended from the ceiling, all too high up to interfere with anyone. Several pieces of BDSM-themed furniture are spread around along the walls and socializing spaces. I watch as several groups of people play on several different items.

One girl is standing with her back pressed against a large wooden X. The manacles are loosely around her wrists while what looks like several friends tease and laugh with her.

I can see what looks like a padded bench with more people around it. One guy is using it as if it were a bench, though judging from the Velcro manacles in certain spots, it looks as though he is using it incorrectly.

I begin to wander slowly along the carpeted area, passing by several of the crowded social areas. Many people are openly vaping here; the smell of sweet scents fills much of the room. I stop for a moment when I hear the laughter of someone playing around, sticking his head into a stockade.

"Hey, beautiful! Interested in a dance?!" Some random man asks me, drawing my attention from the laughing group of drunks. He shouted to be heard over the blaring music.

Looking at the crowded dance floor, I say, "Uhm..." I feel a little claustrophobic. "No, Thank you!" I shout back, trying to smile politely.

The guy shrugs, then looks at the bar and back at me, "A drink, maybe?!"

I shake my head, indicating no. Before he can ask anything else, I quickly walked away... only to be stopped again by another gentleman asking similar questions.

I continue to politely decline the many requests for male attention as I blunder my way around while keeping an eye out for Tracy. The loud music and flashing lights continue to distract me and pull my eyes. The large clouds of vape smoke fill much of the air, and I can't help inhaling many of the sweet tropical smells.

"Where are you, Tracy?" I mutter to myself.

Exasperation overwhelms me, and I eventually decide to grab a drink at one of the bars. The waitress is dressed in a leather bunny outfit, with bunny ears and a fluffy bunny tail coming off the back of her corset. She is also following the BDSM theme of the place, sporting leather wrist cuffs and a loose leather collar.

"Rum and coke, please," I say, sliding over some cash. With practiced motions, she quickly mixes my drink and gives me a big smile.

With my drink in hand, I feel like I'm fitting in just a little better with the crowd. At the very least, men will hopefully relent in asking to buy me a drink. I want to find Tracy, but I know I should also take this job seriously and attempt to discover if Grace's disappearance actually has anything to do with Fools Gold.

I look at the sea of people on the dance floor. Some have climbed the empty stage and are engaging with the BDSM furniture on it, while others are just dancing freely. Looking harder, I see many people vaping while dancing and grinding against each other. Many look lost in the music. Many look as if they are in a haze.

I should maybe ask around about Grace. The only other clue I have to work with is the empty cartridge of 'Haze.' It's possible that if I ask people about it or about Grace, they might think I was a cop. I would most likely set myself back.

My priority should be finding Tracy.

I should have come in at the same time as Tracy. She has always been a people person. She is probably mingled into some group, and I'll never find her. How stupid I was to suggest staggering our entries.

As I lift my cup, I feel a sudden bump on my elbow, and my fingers loosen their grip. I watch in what feels like slow motion as the cup falls to the floor, ejecting its content in a cascade in front of me... and onto someone's knee-high leather boots who happened to be walking by.

I feel petrified as the woman stops, my eyes locked on the floor and her boots, which look relatively new, too. Following her leg up, I see she is wearing tight blue jeans that hug her strong looking legs and thighs. The jeans are set low, tight around her hips, displaying her bare midriff. I see she wears a cut-up crop top and an open leather vest that matches her leather boots.

"I'm so, so sorry!" I shout to her. My eyes looking down, I am afraid to make eye contact with her. Still, when she doesn't leave immediately, I chance a peek up at her face. She is looking sternly at me with her piercing emerald eyes. Her blond hair is cut incredibly short, giving her a butch kind of look. She seems to be somewhere in her mid-forties. Her features are stunning.

The woman stares at me, studying me. The urge to shrink grows in me, and I started to fidget uncontrollably. Why wasn't she saying anything? She keeps staring at me almost impassively. I watch her reach into her pocket and pull out a vape pen and what looks like a pill. She swallowed the pill. Then she sucks on the vape pen, then exhales slowly, the cloud dispersing around us.

I can strongly smell lilacs. Looking back at the woman, her eyes shared the confidence her smile did. She held out the pen to me. "New boots, that is all right. You can make it up to me." She said, her voice carrying a Russian accent.

"I-I'm so sorry about that. I accidentally got bumped and dropped my drink." I tried to explain. She still held out the vape pen, looking expectantly for me to take it. "Uhm... I don't smoke." I say, putting my hands up in a stop motion.

The woman's smile left, and her face became more serious. Her hand continued to offer the vape pen to me. I could almost feel her expectation of me, and... I ended up taking the pen from her. Then, I put the device to my mouth, pressed the button, and inhaled.

The smoke fills my mouth, then my lungs. I see the woman's smile return as she watches me suck on her vaporizer. I get a surprisingly large amount of vapor into my lungs before I begin hacking and coughing.

My palms crash to my knees as I try to stay upright. I hear the woman laughing as I continue to cough. Her hand finds my upper back, rubbing soothingly.

"You weren't kidding when you said you don't smoke," the woman says, squatting in front of me, bringing our heads level with each other. Her hand reaches over and takes back her vape pen. She smiles once more, takes another pull from the device, and then exhales in front of me. "Is good, right? Do not worry. It will get easier, you will see."

I start to feel lightheaded. Most likely, it was from the uncontrollable hacking I've been doing. The smell of lilacs fills my nose. "My name is Zoya. I am one of managers here. I do not think I have ever seen you here before."

I finally managed to control my coughing fit. However, my head was still spinning as I pull myself upright again. I take a moment, close my eyes, and take slow, measured breaths to help bring things back into focus.

Breathe...

"There we go," I whisper to myself.

"I've never been here before," I tell Zoya, "I am trying to find my friend." My voice sounds slightly raspy, and I have difficulty projecting my words loudly.

"Huh?" The woman says, cupping her hand to her ear to better hear me.

"My friend, I lost my friend." I rasp out weakly.

"It is hard to hear you, little girl. Little Doll, kukolka. We go upstairs. It is quieter there," Zoya says in a sultry voice, leaning in close. With a nod of her head, she indicates the second floor.

Quieter sounded nice. Plus, from up there, I would have a better vantage point. Maybe I could find Tracy easier from up there. At the very least, I could ask Zoya if she knew anything about the missing people. If she knew Grace.

I smile and nod to Zoya. I nearly fall over with my first step. Why was I so dizzy? Zoya chuckles and puts an arm around my waist. "Come on, Kukolka. We go upstairs and get to know each other better."

Zoya holds me tight against her as we walk towards one of the stairways. She smells strongly of lilacs, and I'm not sure why, but I enjoy her scent. The security respectfully steps aside for us. Maybe I'm luckier than I thought, accidentally spilling my drink on Zoya's new boots.

As we ascended the stairs, the music becomes much more muted. The blaring music is meant more for the club-goers on the main floor, it seems.

The second floor is decorated much like the main floor; carpeted, and furnished, with couches and socializing areas spaced out along the walls. A heavy railing allows viewing of the main floor, particularly the stage. Over the stage, there looks to be an undisclosed area of the building, but I cannot be sure how big it is.

One of the things that surprises me is seeing the bondage bunnies walking around up here. Some carry trays of drinks, others wheel carts of bondage gear. Collars, leashes, and impact toys. Paddles, crops, and things like that.

Zoya continues to lead me through. As I look around, I see far fewer people on the second floor. Many are in the socializing areas, mingling or... in the throes of foreplay. The more I look, the more I see people grinding on each other, hands plunging down the fronts of pants.

There is one group of girls we see on one of the couches. A redheaded girl like me--granted, her hair in a ponytail is far longer than my curly bob-cut hair--is in a state of undress, only wearing panties, her dress looking more like a belt around her waist. She is sandwiched between two older husky brunettes who are absolutely having their way with the younger girl.

Both girls on either side of the redhead have their legs hooked into the middle girl's, keeping her thighs spread eagle. The brunette to the girl's right is ferociously kissing her while simultaneously masturbating the redheaded girl. Her hand slipping into the girl's exposed panties, plunging and rubbing against her sex.

The heftier brunette on the other side of the redhead is mauling the young girl's chest... very roughly. I watch, mesmerized, as she kneads and pulls at the girl's tit. In her other hand, she holds a vape pen. Taking a pull from it, she then leans in, and her partner breaks the kiss. The girl on the left exhales the smoke into the redhead's panting mouth. I watch the redhead shiver in ecstasy.

"Mmm, it looks like they are having fun. Is this the friend you were looking for, kukolka?" Zoya says into my ear, exhaling more of that lilac vapor and filling my nose. I feel a slight bit dizzy suddenly. Zoya's grip on me keeps me steady.

"Huh? Uh, n-no." I stammer, coming out of my haze and back into focus. "It's not her. It's... just, I've never seen... women going at it like this. Never in public." I find it hard to take my eyes off the three women.

I kind of want another puff off of Zoya's vape pen. I never got into smoking or vaping, but for some reason, I'm really craving it right now. I want to taste it again.

"Ah, I see. It is lovely sight, to be sure. Since you stopped to watch, I figured you either knew her or were interested in joining. Would you like to join them, kukolka?" Zoya asks, walking us a little closer.

It takes a moment for me even to realize I had taken a few steps forward with Zoya, "N-no. It's quite alright." I squeak, but it was a little too late. The brunette on the left notices our approach. She smiles at Zoya, takes one more hit of her pen, and repeats blowing the smoke into the middle girl's mouth. Then, passes the vape pen to her friend on the right, she rests her head on the middle girl's shoulder.

"Hello, Miss Zoya. Come to admire our catch of the night?" The girl on the left asks.

"Come on, Barb. You know I love redheads," Zoya responds, giving my hip a squeeze. I look at Zoya sharply... questioningly. Does this tall Russian woman have intentions of bedding me?

Zoya simply smiles and says, "Only joking, kukolka. Relax." She lifts the vape pen up to my lips, "Here, have another puff." The whole situation feels ridiculous like being fed a bottle. Yet, I latch onto the vaporizer all the same. The sickly-sweet flavor fills my mouth, and a hot warmth cascades down my body. A wonderfully blissful haze clouds my mind.