Lapdancing Girlfriend Ch. 04

There had been several court cases where women had attempted to get out of their contracts, but DeWight had an entire army of lawyers and corrupted politicians at his disposal. In all the cases charges of coercion and blackmail were entirely dismissed due to lack of evidence. His defense cited Divine Silk Attractions, Inc. was an adult entertainment company, and the women had signed the contracts with full disclosure, so there could be no accusations or misunderstanding of their intended roles in the company.

Not content with winning the cases and having the law on his side, DeWight counter-sued for their refusal to work as breach of contract, resulting in the women losing and being left destitute.

If Charles DeWight could not have something, he crushed it.

It was the missing women who were the reason Geiger's task force was assigned to the case. These women never appeared in court and upon follow-up, had completely disappeared. There was never any indication of foul play and in fact a couple women were found months to years later pulling tricks and starring in hardcore pornography—exactly what they had refused to do and had gone to court to prevent. Whenever questioned they would instantly clam up when DeWight's name was mentioned, saying they were fine and the previous accusations were a misunderstanding.

Geiger's team had tried to pursue the legality of the contracts in the hopes of slapping human trafficking charges, but it had been impossible to obtain any copies of the full contract. All had been sealed by the courts and prevented from becoming public record, "to protect both parties' propriety."

In the four years they have been investigating him and his company, every woman they had to deal with was after-the-fact and DeWight had cleaned his tracks. Now here was a woman right before him in the early process of falling into DeWight's devices. He needed to know how she had gotten to where she was before soliciting her aide.

"In order for us to do anything, I need to know exactly what happened, how you were manipulated into signing your contract," he told her.

Reluctantly the stripper described of her first meeting with DeWight, how he had charmed all the girls at the club. Introduced as an investment partner, he had evidently smooth-talked the previous owner—Willie Franklin—into selling the club when the girls did not even know it was for sale.

Geiger had a suspicion Mr. Franklin was as seduced as the girls by DeWight's silver tongue. In fact, knowing DeWight paid the asking price of the club without any haggling he speculated the price had been set by DeWight himself beforehand.

Then the woman talked about more recent events. She described being drugged and seduced into having sex with DeWight, and in the aftermath, signing the contract; how the girls had been told to earn extra money on their day off, again being drugged and acting completely different than normal; and finally finishing with what happened the night before and performing oral sex with him.

"I do want to apologize for that," Geiger told her. "I know the club is wired and DeWight expected it to happen, probably looking for a sleazy Vice officer he could become buddies with. Now that I know the full story, I think he was playing with both of us, the man is a sadistic and clever bastard," he uttered to himself.

"No need to apologize," she told him. "I could have said no, I could have walked away, I chose what I did," she told him, then looked up at his face and said, "And on some level, enjoyed it."

Blood rushed to Geiger's crotch as he looked at her, seeing the truth in her eyes. Moving his gaze lower he saw the robe—bless it's heart, he thought—had opened up again, uncovering her amazing cleavage, the tops of her firm breasts lifted by the tight lace camisole top. Unwillingly his thoughts went back to the night before as his cock slid up and down between those very same breasts, his hands clenching at his desire to again know if they were real or not.

With effort he focused back on his questioning. "Unfortunately, you are correct about pressing charges," he told her grudgingly, "there is little to prove you were coerced into signing the contract, especially if what you say is true and DeWight has the encounter filmed. Too much time has elapsed for a valid drug test, so that is a dead end," he told her sadly.

"But there is at least one avenue to pursue," he told her. "We have never been able to get our hands on any of DSA's contracts, so if you are willing to lend yours, I can have some of our legal experts review it for possible loopholes," he said. Seeing her look of hope, he quickly added, "Mind you I doubt they will find anything substantial. Those contracts have gone before court several times and the cases dismissed," he explained.

"I understand," she told him unhappily.

"We'll do our best," he told her, wanting to give her some hope.

"You said there was a way to put Mr. DeWight in jail?" she asked.

He immediately followed her line of reasoning. If DeWight was imprisoned, there was a possibility of the contract becoming nulled in retribution of illegal activity.

Putting on his interrogator persona once again, he looked at the woman. "You've explained your fiancé's reluctance to you dancing, what about your other performances?" he asked her.

"If you mean what happened between you and me, I confessed to Dan. He knows this was all due to Mr. DeWight and forgives me, although I have yet to forgive myself, no offense," she told him.

"None taken," he told her. "No, what I mean is about the videos you've recently starred in as a DSA spokesmodel?" he asked her.

********************

Jen looked at the officer in bewilderment, not understanding what he was asking. She saw him look at her questioningly, and then began typing on his laptop, turning it around to face her.

At first Jen did not understand what he was doing, until she realized a video was playing on the laptop, music playing in the background. She immediately recognized Gary's voice over the cheap laptop speakers announcing, "I again introduce, Diamond!"

Hearing her name, Jen focused upon the screen realizing it was a video of the club. She finally recognized the song as Madonna's 'Justify My Love' when a bunch of cheers came across the speakers and she watched in horror as, on screen, she got on the stage completely naked, slowly strutting around the pole.

The cop's voice startled her and she looked up at him. "I take it you did not know about this?" he asked.

Jen shook her head, immediately drawn back to the video playing as she watched herself finish a spin around the pole on her knees, crawling across the stage naked, her breasts swaying with each movement, to a group of workers holding up cash.

Jen realized her performance on her day off in front of the workers had been filmed.

"How did you get this?" she asked as she watched herself mimicking fucking the stage.

Her image on the screen tilted back, her breasts tight against her chest as she planted her feet firmly on the stage and lifted her hips, exposing her crotch to everybody. In horror Jen watched as the camera zoomed in on her slit, her labia puffed and glistening from her use by the foreman earlier as the crowd screamed over the cheap laptop speakers.

The cop's voice broke her reverie on the screen. "They are posted on the DSA website. With the investigation going on we have a subscription to monitor all sites owned by the company. This was posted Thursday evening," he told her.

Jen realized it was posted the same night it had occurred, when something else the officer said came to her. "You said," she said, licking her lips from a mouth that had gone dry, "you said there were more?" she asked, looking up at the officer.

He nodded and turned the laptop around. She heard the video stop as the beginning of Evanescence's 'Imaginary' began playing. A part of Jen wanted to watch the video, as the girls had told her it was the best performance she had ever done on the pole; however, she was too shocked at the discovery of being filmed as the laptop back around.

"This one is a bit more graphic," he told her with some reluctance as Jen looked at the screen.

Knowing Mr. DeWight had taped her practice performance, she reasoned this was the other stage routine he had shown her in his office.

Initially the screen was black, but slowly faded into view as Jen looked in surprise at herself sitting down. She was wearing her purple halter, which made her realize this was a tape from within Mr. DeWight's office yesterday!

At first there was no sound, watching in morbid fascination as Mr. DeWight's hands moved to her shoulders. The video was angled to only showing herself, so all you could see were a man's hands massaging her as she watched the hands moved down her arms.

Her image on the screen close her eyes, overcome by the sensation of the man's hands—Mr. DeWight's—as they rubbed her neck and arms, her mind recalling the situation vividly.

Unable to pull her eyes away from the screen, she watched as the hands slid down the front of her top, squeezing her breasts. To Jen's horror she saw the image of herself on the screen lean into the blatant groping. Although she knew her movement was to get away, on the video it looked like she was purposely leaning into his grasp.

Jen's mouth became dry, her heart beating rapidly as she watched her top removed, exposing her breasts to the screen as Mr. DeWight's hands began to knead them, the fatty flesh bulging obscenely between his fingers as he squeezed. Jen could only stare as he conspicuously pinched her nipples, hearing the first sound over the speakers—her gasp and moan of pleasure!

"Why don't I hear him?" she asked to nobody in particular, her mind too focused on what was before her, "he was talking the whole time," she said.

The cop answered, his voice coming to her vaguely, "He obviously dubbed the recording, there is no talking beyond...uhm," he paused as Jen looked up at him and he finished, "beyond a few moans," he said.

In horror, Jen wondered was else was on the video as she reached for his mobile mouse. "May I?" she asked absently.

Before the cop could say 'Yes' she advanced the video. Not unexpectedly, but a shock still the same, the scene showed her on her haunches, sucking Tim's cock. She could only stare as she watched herself deep-throat him, the sounds of her moans easily coming over the music—Fredde Le Grande's 'Put Your Hands Up For Detroit'—playing on the speakers.

Jen watched transfixed as her head turned towards the camera—obviously somewhere on Mr. DeWight's desk—the cock pulling out of her mouth. With her hand stroking it to the side the camera focused on her face as her voice came across the speakers loudly, "I love sucking cock, I love the feel of cock inside me, my mouth, my pussy, everywhere."

"Turn it off!" Jen cried, pushing the laptop away from her and sinking back into the chair.

She sat there in shock, no longer aware of her surroundings as her mind tried to process what she had just learned. As with the video of her and Mr. DeWight, although she knew in reality she had been opposed to the situation, Jen could not deny on the screen she looked to be fully enjoying the experience.

And what Mr. DeWight had made her say! She had been too absorbed in what was happening to think straight, merely repeating what he told her to say, but now she felt hopelessness return to her as she sat in the chair, wondering what had become of her life.

********************

Patrick Geiger realized for the second time today their investigation had followed a wrong tangent. After seeing the videos posted to the DSA website, they had assumed the woman had willingly taken the role as spokesmodel. They had known the stage routines were taken during the club's normal hours, which could have been done without her knowledge; however, the tape she had just seen was of high quality, and they had thought it was a staged scene. He now realized even this filming was done without her knowledge, DeWight recording what he had forced her do.

He felt sorry for her; however, a case was a case and he wanted Charles DeWight behind bars. Not for just what he had done to this woman, but his own personal reasons.

As the woman cried out "Turn it off!" and sank back into the chair, he saw she was in shock by what she had seen, having no previous knowledge of the videos existence.

Although he felt remorse for her situation, as a man he could not help but stare at the barely clad woman before him. Her robe had completely pulled apart, uncovering her half-top lace camisole and matching boy short panties. His eyes were once again drawn to the outline of her areolae through the lace, then moved down to her bare stomach, ending focused on the crotch of her panties where he saw the outline of the thin landing strip of pubic hair.

He had seen her naked, but covered with only half-glimpses of her body now stirred him more than seeing her at the strip club. He recalled the image of her being fucked in the other video he had not shown her, now realizing it had been with DeWight. When his team had first watched it her reactions were of enjoyment, not reluctance as he thought of her breasts bouncing with each thrust. In some sick way he wanted to see that again, only in person as he stared at her in the chair.

Finally his cop intuition kicked in, pushing his illicit thoughts from his mind. This woman could be used to further the investigation, so he told her quietly, "This is what Charles DeWight has done to you without you even being aware. It will only get worse. The contract you signed gives him rights to everything about you. I have seen it before, although you may be reluctant, eventually you will give in. Whether it is due to being drugged, blackmailed, or physically abused, DeWight will not stop until he has his way," he told her.

The woman stared at him. He had seen the look on her face a thousand times, one of shock, incoherency, and bewilderment after a major accident. Yet he knew his words were getting through to her as he continued speaking.

"It is inevitable what is going to happen," he repeated regretfully. "Help us. You are on the inside, you are a DSA spokesmodel so have access to parts of the company we don't even know about," he told her. "We have tried countless times to plant somebody into the company, but they have all been fired for various contrived reasons," he explained. "Obviously their covers had been blown, be we don't know how. You are an outsider. If you can get us any evidence, we may have a way to put this bastard away once and for all!" he told her.

He stared at the woman as she sat in her chair looking at him. Once again he felt his pulse quicken at her sensual attire, his mind again going down a dark path until she said something, breaking his reverie.

"Excuse me?" he asked her.

"This explains the check," she said again.

Asking what she meant, she told him about her bonus check, surprised at the amount. Looking at the Diamond website and the number of hits her videos had received, he nodded. "Actually, that makes sense," he explained. "These videos have over 10,000 followers after only a few days. If any accounts are new, the revenue can be attributed to you. We know the contracts have a generous bonus system, but they can suck you in until you end up owing the company more than you were paid, but this website does gain a lot of subscribers," he told her.

"We need to tell Dan," she blurted out.

Patrick shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to expose their investigation, as well as his cover. He had taken a great risk to involve the girl, if she was wrong and her fiancé was involved with DeWight, years of investigation work would be blown, and the loss of his partner would go unavenged.

"Please," she begged seeing his reluctance. "At least hear him out. I guarantee he hates Mr. DeWight even more than I do, and..."she paused, resigning herself, "and once he sees these videos, although he may hate me, he'll hate Mr. DeWight even more," she told him.

"Ma'am, I am taking a great risk even talking to you. If you are wrong, there are lives at risk in this situation; your own may be forfeit," he told her gravely. "I have seen what Charles DeWight can do, and you cannot begin to imagine what he is capable of," he told her.

"I'm sure," she whispered.

Patrick Geiger felt his resolve dwindle. He would have liked to have said it was his intuition, but there was something about a half-naked woman who had sucked you off the night before pleading with you to break your steadfastness. He knew this woman was on the edge, and reluctantly realized even if he told her no, she would tell her fiancé everything.

With great resignation, he nodded.

As the stripper stood up—absently readjusting her robe—and went to the doors to call in her fiancé, Patrick Geiger mentally kicked himself in the ass several times for not only telling the woman about his investigation, but now involving a POI—person of interest.

Yet as he mentally chastised himself, he could not help but watch the stripper's long legs walking away. He thought it was a shame she was bare-footed, as some white pumps would have complimented her outfit and been incredible. He noticed her robe was laced in the back, dipping low enough to see her lacey short panties before she stepped out of the room, re-entering a few moments later with her fiancé, Mr. Daniel Jeffries.

As the couple sat across from him in the two upholstered lounge chairs, Geiger noted the woman was more at ease around her fiancé, sitting on the chair with her feet tucked underneath her. His stare followed the tanned lines of her folded long legs to her shapely feet resting against the smooth flesh of her ass cheek, exposed due to her current position raising the hem of her robe almost to her hips.

He adjusted his scrutiny from the woman to the man, seeing an average looking guy with a slight balding spot on his crown which would lead to baldness by the time he was in his forties. Absent-mindedly Geiger wondered if the man would end up shaving his head or doing the 'flip over' and growing one side of his hair to comb over the spot. Then again, maybe some Rogaine action would fix it.

Taking a deep breath to sort out the thoughts in his head, he once again went into interrogator mode. He began planning several questions in advance, some seemingly random, in order to not divulge exactly what he was asking; however, looking at the man's nervous face, he decided upon a different tactic, not speaking at all and letting the suspect talk, as such nervousness did not hide lying.

Leaning comfortably back into the loveseat he said to the man, "So tell me about your relationship with Charles DeWight III."

A half-hour later Patrick Geiger admitted silently he had made yet another mistake. He did not admit to making any mistakes very often, let alone so many in a single day. He was characteristically diligent in his research of suspects; often causing others on his team to audibly groan each time he came to a team meeting and said he was still researching a perp. Yet as he listened to Mr. Jeffries talk about his past experiences with Charles DeWight, the law enforcement officer was surprised he had not already arrested the man before him for murder of DeWight.

Geiger had been on this case for a few years now, so he was familiar with DeWight's cruelty; however, even he could not believe the amount of mental torture and debasement Mr. Jeffries had endured for so long. And he knew DeWight thought nothing wrong in the way he treated Mr. Jeffries.

At first he thought Jeffries to be the typical wimp, but immediately changed his mind. Although not muscular, the man was not thin or appeared to be weak in either mind or body. He could have used a few hours a week in the gym, but he was not out of shape, having the typical body of a late-20's man. He also had a sharp wit and intelligence. So it was a mystery why the man had allowed such abuse to continue; however, as Mr. Jeffries talked about his earlier childhood, it made more sense. If DeWight had been controlling and abusive from the very start, even during childhood, it was so ingrained into Mr. Jeffries' consciousness to always allow him his way, it came naturally.