The Club of Fools Ch. 01

"I want $1,000 per week from now on," she said smugly, a deep voice like Bea Arthur's. Victoria sat back behind her large mahogany desk, her auburn hair shining more reddish than normal due to the rays of late afternoon sunshine streaming into the luxurious office secreted within the modest house with many secrets. The rays carried that Casablanca look of dust or smoke and all that was missing was a cat on the window sill to finish the sleepy and exotic appearance of the scene.

She sat there, relaxed but alert and confident, not beautiful but attractive, as it was the air she had, the air she breathed, the air she controlled with her very presence, Jason thought. She worked with what she had and made it compulsive, made men want her, with her dark eyes and thick full lips, all perfectly made up. He had seen her wake up in the morning, and there were rough landscapes of acne scars on both cheeks. They were invisible now, paved with her domination and control. She shifted her bottom on the chair and he heard the sound of satin on leather, a singing, slippery sound.

Earlier in the day, when she had asked him to come to her place, Jason had thought that was odd. Since he had found her months ago, he had always called her when he wanted her. With this call, he had hoped and assumed it was for some sort of game, a sexual game, and he had been excited all day in anticipation. Now she simply said this?

Jason leaned forward in his chair, a look of puzzlement on his face, and said, "What do you mean? What for?"

"Because that's the price I decided on. Could have been more, could have been less," she said with a shrug in her exotic contralto voice. The sound of her seemed to make his breastbone vibrate; it was so full of timber. Then she smiled with her mouth closed revealing her deep dimples accentuated in the shadow of the sun's rays.

"I don't understand," he said.

"What's to understand? You don't need to understand. I want $1,000 per week, and you're going to pay it. It's really quite simple."

"Well, actually no, I'm not going to pay you a grand a week. Why would I do that? I pay you when I use you. That's our deal. That's it. End of story." He was exasperated and getting angry. Was this some kind of joke?

Now Victoria's smile faded icily. "Use me? I see. Well, that was what you thought. This is now. You see, I've been using you; you don't use ME." The implication was obvious.

Jason was steaming as he blurted out, "Why the fuck would I pay that? Fuck you! Who do you think you are? You're a fucking hooker; that's what you are, and you do what I pay you to do, when I want you to do it. Is that clear enough for you?" He stood and leaned on her desk with his chin jutted out toward her, threateningly.

She observed his face and mannerisms, amused. His blue eyes sparked and flashed with anger and his cheeks were rigid with rage. Oh, he was so handsome, she thought, but such a "golden boy", a man with a gift of looks and family wealth. It bought him a law degree and connections and his perfect teeth. This guy couldn't miss, could he?

But he did miss. He treated women badly, and one of those women was her friend. It was time to pay up.

In her long silence after his rant, he started to flinch under her gaze, his left eyebrow twitching. Clearly he was beginning to wonder what she had on him, and she couldn't help it; she laughed.

Struggling to quell the amusing thoughts, she said, "Well, you seem very sure of yourself. Let me explain some things to you Jason. You have a reputation for using women around town. Let's just call me a women's representative to uh, do some adjustments to your attitude, put you in your place. I want you to watch this video please."

Victoria's smugness turned to a calm domination of the situation as she turned the laptop screen around to face him on the top of the desk. Jason looked on, puzzled at her smugness, his apprehension mounting.

The image was of him in a video. He seemed alert but there was a disarming dullness to his eyes as if he was reading a script. He was saying things that he had no recollection of saying. Ever.

It went like this, "Hi, my name is Jason Muller. I am a gay transvestite. I really enjoy dressing up like a woman and getting fucked in the ass. This video will let you and anyone who watches it know that I'm a submissive sissy. I need everyone to know. I'm tired of hiding it." In the video he smiled, totally aware, as he faded away and was replaced by a Jason dressed in a laced up corset and attached stockings getting pegged from behind by an unidentifiable woman dressed in latex and equipped with a strap-on. He also had high heels on and his face was painted with makeup. A blond wig splayed ringlets all over his back and hung to the floor in front of his shoulders as he balanced himself on the floor, doggie style. The woman's face was obscured with a clear latex hood and Jason was grunting and repeating over and over, "Yes, yes, oh my God, yes. Fuck me, please fuck me!" The camera panned around to show his face twisted in anticipated ecstasy, a weak smile on his face. He opened his eyes, which were glazed with lust.

After several thrusts by the woman, she reached around and grasped his penis, almost instantly making him ejaculate, convulsing wildly as he pushed back against her thrusts. He groaned and smiled, staring directly, but unfocused, at the camera. His lips trembled and his eyes crossed slightly. The video faded to white.

The end.

There was silence for a few seconds and then Jason said, "What is this? What's going on here? That's...that can't be me. I, I mean, how could I...uh... I don't understand. You can't do this. I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that. That stuff doesn't even turn me on. That's fake; I didn't do that."

"But you did. Here's the proof." And she tapped the computer gently. "We have the proof."

"We?" he asked fearfully.

"Yes, we."

"I see. So you're trying to blackmail me."

Victoria smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, no, I wouldn't do that. I just want you to join my club, or stable, of men who need to learn some life lessons...that you can't go through life using women the way you do. The price for membership in this stable is $1,000 per week. It's a very elite club of former studs, and once you're a member, you can't leave unless we release you (I haven't released any yet). If you do try, the video might find a way into the public, or maybe your firm would be interested in seeing it. Depends on what we decide to do."

Jason now had a look of genuine alarm on his face. He said, "But I've got a law practice. That would..." Then he had a thought, "Wait; prostitutes don't do this. I pay you for discretion and I expect discretion, damn it!" he yelled, outraged.

"Exactly," she replied calmly while getting up to make a drink at the bar, "Now you get it. Discretion. The price for discretion is $1,000 per week. Considering your exploits and sexual tendencies, you might want to consider paying for said discretion. Want a scotch?"

Ignoring her offer, he growled at her threateningly, "You can't do this. I'll fucking ruin you. Prostitutes can't make a living if they break the rule of discretion. Word gets around. You wouldn't dare!"

"Well," Victoria laughed, "You better look before you leap. Most lawyers do that, don't they? Let me explain. This video is on an "un-triggered" website, meaning that it goes fully and openly online at the slightest of pushback from you. If you like I can put you in contact with others in my club. Let them explain how things are for them. You actually know some of them, or at least know of them."

"Club? What the fuck are you talking about? This is insane! You're fucking crazy! No way. Fuck you!" he yelled. Then his curiosity got the best of him and he asked, "I know some? How many are there?"

"With you, that will be seven, all paying at least $1,000 per week."

"You've got to be fucking kidding! You can't be getting away with this. That's like owning slaves."

Victoria smiled and answered his three questions, "No, yes, and yes they are slaves. You are now one."

Now Jason smiled, all bravado, "No, you're just fucking with me. You can't get away with this."

She ignored his confidence and continued, "I should add that if the club members do not pay or do not do as they are told, the site address goes to associates and clients, as well as family and friends if anyone tries to expose the source of the blackmail as you call it. I'm a prostitute; I can absorb the defamation. You, on the other hand, would never recover; you're a trial lawyer and you'd be ruined. Because the whole world will know that the video is real, and it is you in it, dressed in drag and having a wonderful orgasm. There is no written record of a financial transaction here, is there? So there is no blackmail, is there? If the money does come up in proceedings, it's just a hooker's fee, isn't that so? I want $1,000 per week...for discretion."

Jason was in a rage. "That is NOT me in the video. It can't be, because I didn't do that on camera. So you can go fuck yourself!"

"Oh Jason, Jason," she said with feigned fatigue, "It was you and you know it. You came to me for some rough and bizarre sex and I gave it to you. You wanted bondage but I dug deeper. I have ways of finding out true fantasies. You're such a pretty little bitch aren't you?"

He couldn't help it; he blushed, but thankfully it was impossible to tell if it was from the humiliation or the anger. For the first time he was speechless, sputtering incoherently. Yes, it was his secret fantasy, but he had never told her, or anyone; he couldn't have. He would never do that. It had been his shameful sick secret ever since he came of age. He had compensated by being aggressive and by using and abusing the very women he wanted to become, never allowing them to get too close for fear they would find out his dirty little secret. He had assumed that any woman would find out eventually, so instead of risking that embarrassment and shame, he would ditch them before they had a chance to ditch him. Now, somehow, Victoria had found him out, and he hadn't the foggiest idea how she had not only found out, but also how she had enacted his fantasies without his awareness. He was frightened by this, no, terrified, like an amnesiac might feel.

Victoria continued, "In reality though, if you chose not to cooperate, I would break your personal news to the world slowly, perhaps first to...hmm, say your brothers or your sister, maybe your mother and father, then one neighbor, you know...Geoff? Your parents' charitable foundation might be impacted...who knows? You see how this would go. This is Monday. I want my first payment on Friday. Cash."

Unrestrained anger, born from a crescendo of helplessness, flew out of him like a lightning bolt and he seized the computer and threw it against the wall where it then slammed down on the floor with a crack and the noise of splitting plastic and warping hard drives. "This is what I think of this whole fucking thing. Fuck you!" And he stomped out of the room in a blind rage and fog of fear.

Victoria followed him doggedly as he exited the front door for his Cayenne parked out in front of the house. "The computer was about a $1,000, so I expect $2,000 this Friday, delivered. In person," she yelled.

As he exited the front door, he shot a middle finger back at her, like the last defiant act of a mouse about to die in the claws of a cat. The front door was still open as Victoria calmly watched him pull away from the curb, rubber losing friction with the pavement. She pulled a cell phone out of her purse hanging by the door and texted, "See you on Friday."

Jason was already around the corner and heading for the freeway when his Bluetooth screen lit up with a new text message. He pressed "read" and the computer voice stated his future in its sinister, ominous and emotionless voice. He heard what it said, but what it really meant was, "Jason, you are so fucking screwed."

CHAPTER TWO

It was Thursday night at 8:00 when Victoria phoned him.

"Hello Jason. Good to hear your voice. Don't hang up; I have something I need you to see. Write this down."

Jason's anger on Monday had now been replaced with fear and caution as he wrote down what she was dictating to him. It was a website address and he knew what that meant.

"Read it back to me," she said. He did, and then she added, "I have the site turned on for five minutes. Then it gets turned off until...well, you decide." And she hung up.

Jason was panicking as he hustled into his study to turn the computer on.

There he was. Only there was more, much more. Another video showed him masturbating on a dominatrix's boot and then licking it off. Another showed him on his knees in front of a man with a giant cock bobbing up and down in front of his nose and mouth. Jason's hands were tied behind his back but there was nobody really forcing him to... Then the image froze. The connection was lost.

The phone rang. "How did you do that? I don't remember anything! I don't even like that!" he said with a trembling voice.

"Pharmaceuticals. A former nurse's secret. Does it matter? See you tomorrow? Oh, and call me ma'am from now on okay?"

Jason started repeating himself on the phone in a very uncharacteristic un-lawyer-like panic, "Fuck...you can't...you can't do this...Jesus...you can't. Look I'll make a deal...pay you 10 weeks, $10,000, $11,000 right now and I get the video...okay?"

"Jason, the video is NEVER going away. $2,000 tomorrow and $1,000 a week till I say stop, if I say stop. Understand? Oh, and you forgot something already."

Jason was thinking frantically, "Okay, I'll pay you 52 weeks, one year, $52,000 and it all goes away. Okay?"

Victoria sighed impatiently and said, "You don't listen well Jason. There is NO negotiation here, and if you persist, you owe me $10,000 tomorrow, AND risk going viral. So what do you say? Remember what you forgot?"

"I can't fucking believe this! Jesus, okay, I'll be there at 10:00 tomorrow morning with $1,000, no...$2,000."

"And?"

"I'll see you tomorrow. Ma'am. Fuck!"

"Good girl! I guess maybe you aren't so stupid after all!" she said with relaxed triumph. She hung up.

Jason stood in the study holding the dead phone in his hand and on his ear. There were no more words. He just shook his head from side to side in utter disbelief.

He thought of some of his friends in "low places". Maybe he should... No, there had to be another way. Besides, if she died, two things could happen; it would trigger the website and all the people that he knew would be aware of who and what he was. Then the videos and the death would be added together to send him to jail for the rest of his life.

Honestly, he had no idea how to get out of this. Not a clue. That's why he had $2,000 in his wallet. That's also why he had booked off work tomorrow, cancelled all his meetings.

He wondered whether his new club had a name.