Palmieri shut the door behind her and climbed up the half-dozen steps to the garage. Spooner was there, sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, the door open. He acted casually, but she knew he must have gone through the little blonde bitch’s things and not found anything.
“Where’s the bag?” she asked him. He looked confused for a moment.
“The trash bag,” she clarified, holding up the bundle she’d made of the blonde’s clothes and shoes. The strapon was hidden inside it. He nodded quickly and leaned back to fish the big plastic trashbag out from under the passenger seat. He passed it over to her, but she didn’t take it.
“Open the damn’ thing up first, Spooner,” she said wearily. “And get the fuck out of my seat.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Spooner fumbled around with the bag, trying to find the end that opened as he unfolded it as he got out of the car. He finally got the bag opened and Palmieri stuffed everything into it.
“So…” Spooner began casually. “What did you two girls talk about down there?”
“None of your business,” Palmieri answered. “Anyway, I just wanted to get a good look at the bitch. She’s fairly young, early or mid-twenties I’d guess, healthy and very nicely built. I think Kingston’ll be interested in her, but he’ll want to have a look for himself first.”
“She’s a hot little piece,” Spooner said. “I wouldn’t mind another shot at her before he gets here.”
“Yeah,” Palmieri snickered. “Keep it in your pants, Spooner. I’m gonna call Kingston now and tell him we’ve got some merchandise for him to inspect. We don’t want her messed up any more than she already is.” She took out her cell phone.
***
Krissy sat up on the mattress and looked around. The hard plastic restraint had left deep red marks on her wrists, and she rubbed at them gingerly. Her fingertips still had that unpleasant pins-and-needles feeling.
There were no windows at all. Now that she had the time to take a better look, she saw a number of places where there might have been windows once, before they were bricked up and painted the same neutral beige color as the rest of the walls. She wasn’t sure where this place was. It was just inside or just outside of the city limits, she guessed. Unfortunately, that hard slap the fat cop gave her back in the car had scrambled her wits for a while, and she’d been so intent on staying on the floor and out of his easy reach she hadn’t gotten much of a look at the neighborhood before they’d parked in the garage and the door had shut behind them. But she’d gotten a good look at the garage, at least. It was too big for any of the rehabbed row homes at the fringes of the city, and since it connected to this big basement, she was probably in the old Three Hills district. There were lots of big homes there, some old and refurbished, some new, built after the big fire they’d had some years ago. She didn’t know much about that area beyond that, but this place felt new. It also felt uninhabited.
She got up slowly. Despite the lubricant they’d used, her pussy felt a little sore. She also felt a little chilly now, but the woman had taken all of her clothes away so there was no help for that. She was more certain than ever now that they’d brought her here to soften her up, break her, and then put her out on the street. That’s why they’d taken her clothes. It was supposed to make her feel vulnerable, and it was working. How long would they keep her here? That probably depended on whether or not they had accomplices, more dirty cops who would work her over in shifts until she became nice and compliant. It would be unpleasant, but she could endure it. She’d have to. She would break most convincingly and get them to believe that she’d do whatever they wanted, and then, the moment she got the chance, she’d escape, leaving this town and its dirty cops forever.
She went over to the two side-by-side doors. The woman had told her that the left-hand one was locked, but she wasn’t going to take her word for it. She checked for herself and discovered that it was indeed locked, made of solid wood covered in sheet metal, so there was no hope of kicking through it to get out of here. She tried the other door. It opened up on a small powder room, no more than a sink and a toilet. The cold water ran okay, but no matter how long she let the hot water tap run it never warmed up. There was nothing else in the tiny room aside from a partly-used roll of toilet paper and a cheap plastic wastebasket. She cleaned herself up as best she could, and then stayed in the powder room with the door shut. It wasn’t quite as chilly in there as it was out in the basement, and at least this way she had a tiny bit of privacy.
She was in a bad situation. She didn’t know the cops who had arrested her, she didn’t know where they’d taken her, and there was no one who would miss her if she didn’t return to her apartment, not until the monthly rent came due. But that was a little over three weeks away, and she fully intended to be a long way from here by then.
***