Chapter 4

Samantha

I got back to the apartment in plenty of time to shower, change into my professional best, well, at least most of it belonged to me, and go over the few lines my agent had given me. He wasn’t an agent in the conventional sense. His name was Barry Hepplewhite and he’d most recently called London home. Of course, his accent added all the more class and a couple dozen of us acting hopefuls had made a deal with him to represent us for a five percent commission. It was unprofessional to represent yourself. Barry slept on the floor and ate cold pizza to stay alive in the meantime.

“Barry, where did you hear about this role?” I asked, kicking him gently with my toes to wake him up.

“Whaaat? What’s that?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He’d obviously had a late night.

“This casting call you’re sending me to. Where did you get the information and the lines?”

“Oh, that. Oh, luv, not to worry,” he tried to encourage me. “’Twas a young lady from Harlem who read for it last week and gave me the lines.”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me that this role has already been cast?”

“Oh, well, I suppose, in a manner of speaking, but then there’s always her understudy or other wee parts. They’re the only lines she’d heard.”

“Barry!” I slapped him with his own sheets of paper. “I went to all this trouble and there isn’t even a role open?”

“Oh, now, luv, things are light, you know. The big roles ‘ave already been snapped up. Be grateful you get to read before a big name, luv.”

“Ohhhhh… I could just kill you, Barry!” I took another swipe at him.

“Could you wait until I’ve had me tea, luv?” He was staggering to his feet.

I was already dressed, had arranged my time to be open, and had bus fare in my pocket. I supposed I could at least go over and absorb some atmosphere. You never know when you could get discovered, I told myself. Anyway, I needed money and my delivery job wasn’t cutting it.

I left the apartment and there, at the curb in front of me, was a black limo. I broke into a smile. How thoughtful! Dom has come to give me a ride!

The driver opened the back door and handed me in. I settled on the seat. “How did you know what time I’d be out?” I asked, smiling.

“I’d wait as long as I have to,” he said.

I looked into the dim recess of the opposite seat in alarm. “You’re not Dom!”

“No, I’m not, but he sent me to get you.”

“Wait, you’re Eric, from last night, aren’t you?”

“You must have stayed sober if you remember that.”

“Well, of course.”

“Anyway, it’s okay. You’re not being kidnapped. Dom was busy and asked me to stop by and pick you up.”

“How did you know where I was?”

He laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “The doorman, George, knew your employer and a phone call got me the rest. Doesn’t matter, though. We’ve got an assignment for you.”

“Assignment? You mean another acting job?”

He looked at me. “Yeah, yeah, that’s right…another acting job.”

What was it that was bothering me about all this? Why didn’t Dom come himself? Maybe he thought Eric would feel safer than a total stranger.

“So, what’s the job?”

“It’s a snap. We’re swinging by the Fifth Avenue Macy’s first and you’re getting a personal shopper and a new wardrobe, courtesy of Dom, naturally.”

I sat back and watched him from the corner of my eye. I was tempted to call Dom, but I’d left his card in the pocket of my delivery uniform and had no idea how to reach him. “Do you have Dom’s number? I’d like to talk to him.”

“He’s tied up in meetings and doesn’t want to be bothered. That’s why he asked me to give you a ride and take care of this—I was leaving his place and coming this direction anyway.” He seemed very matter-of-fact about the whole situation, which made me feel better. I’d call Dom once I got back to the apartment and found his card. I knew the number he’d written on the back was private. He may not even want Eric to have it.

Eric put me in the hands of a personal shopper and she whisked me upstairs into a salon where they took my measurements and then began trotting out dresses and even some casual clothes to look at. The shopper made the choices, although she pretended to wait for my nod of approval. About an hour later, I was deposited back on the sidewalk and my packages loaded into the trunk of the limo.

I settled back onto the seat and waited to see what would happen next. I was trying to figure out where I’d put the wardrobe back at the apartment; there was entirely too much of it. I didn’t doubt that some of it would walk away and I knew it was expensive. I’d have to ask Dom what he wanted to do about that.

When I looked out the window, I saw that we’d arrived at The Remington, a very upscale hotel in Manhattan where many of the guests stayed for prolonged periods of time. The driver grabbed a courtesy luggage dolly, loaded my purchases and wheeled the cart indoors while Eric got out of the back seat and motioned for me to join him.

“I don’t understand. What are we doing here?”

“Just following orders,” Eric answered and walked with me through the revolving doors to the hotel’s lobby. He went up to the desk and said, “This is Samantha Porter.” The desk clerk nodded and pulled a blank key card from the drawer. She programmed it, handed it to Eric, who handed it to me and said, “You’re in room twelve-forty. Go on up, order room service or whatever you need, but stay in the room. Shower and dress in something nice. I’ll send a car for you in two hours. Oh, and you might take a nap so you’re fresh.”

Eric left before I could ask any more questions. Dom certainly was mysterious, but he had great taste, so I did as he asked and followed the bellman into the elevator up to the twelfth floor.

The room was tastefully decorated in muted shades of pearl, gray and melon. It was a suite and my side contained a king-sized bed, a small seating area, flat screen, desk and a beautiful bath with a tiled soaking tub and separate shower. I took some time to hang up the clothing and stored the folded pieces in the dresser. I had to admit I was hungry but unsure if we were going out to dinner, I only ordered a small salad and iced tea. I drifted through a thirty-minute nap and then took my shower. I pulled out a low-cut pink wrap dress with ruffled hem. Not knowing where we were headed, it was hard to know what to wear, so I just chose what I liked best.

As promised, the phone on the nightstand rang; the desk telling me there was a car waiting for me. The revolving door deposited me at the limo door and the driver made sure I was safely inside before circling the vehicle to climb in himself. We only went a few blocks and I was more than surprised when we pulled up to Expose Club. Why would he bring me here and why all the mystery?

The doorman motioned to me and once again, the velvet rope was opened, and I was ushered inside. This time, however, a woman approached. “Miss Samantha?”

“Ah, yes?”

“Follow me, please?”

She led the way to an elevator that was fashioned from solid brass, resembling a birdcage. We lifted to the third story and the door opened onto a mezzanine. I was very impressed and more than a little nervous.

She approached a pair of heavily-lacquered black doors and lifted a brass knocker. The door opened inches with someone on the inside considering whether to allow us inside. She stepped back and motioned for me to precede her. I felt a little more fear, but I knew Dom was inside and would take away the anxiety.

The third floor was, as I was about to find out, deceptive in appearance. It looked almost like an office building; a series of rooms with glass doors and curtained windows. “Please follow me,” the woman continued down the hallway until she came to a particular door. “Please remove your shoes and enter here,” she requested. I had no idea what I was getting into, but slipped off my heels and tapped. There was no answer, but she nodded so I opened the door and went inside. I heard it click behind me.

The room was dark, and my reaction was to retreat, but the door handle wouldn’t turn when I tried it. “Dom?” There was no answer. The humidity was overpowering, although the air was clear. Tropical plants were lushly staged through the massive room and there was a series of oddly-shaped seating that blended into the jungle atmosphere. Live birds and animals calmly went on with their lives, undisturbed by my presence. “Dom, where are you?” I called again, knowing he was teasing me; undoubtedly another one of his studies of the human species. I wondered whether it might be one of his millionaire dating locations, so I moved forward, looking for him. An enclosure made of woven palm fronds presented itself and I assumed he would be waiting for me inside—hopefully naked. “Dom, this place is unbelievable. Thank you for inviting me. Is this the kind of place where you strip, or what?”

I ducked beneath the canopy to enter the enclosure and saw a man sitting in the corner, his legs and chest bare. “Oh, my god – you’re not Dom. I’m sorry, they must have put me in the wrong room.”

“Come in, Samantha,” the man said, and I gasped as he laboriously stood up. It was Satterly and he was completely naked, his bulbous member swollen and wagging at me. He was fondling himself, lifting his penis in offering to me. I thought I’d be sick and backed up.

“Mr. Satterly? Is this a joke?”

“Joke? Oh, no, Samantha. May I call you Sam? Dom sent you to find me and now you’re here. Come here and touch me. I want your hands on my dick.”

I was shaking my head, backing further away. “No, no, I’m not one of those girls. You’ve got this all wrong.” I turned and made my way back to the door.

“It won’t open, Sam. I control the lock from here,” he called to me. “Come in here where I can sit down. I can’t stand up as long as I used to, and I want my dick in your throat. That lovely, long throat.”

I found my way back to the door and began beating it. “Someone! Someone! Let me out.” I picked up a rock and hit hard against the glass window. I pushed at the drape, hoping to catch someone’s attention, but the glass was one-way, looking outward. No one noticed me. It must have also been sound-proof.

“Don’t do that, Sam.” Satterly’s voice was immediately behind me. I didn’t want to turn around because I knew he was still naked. He was wheezing from exertion. I was trapped, and it triggered an innate fear in me. I could feel the hysteria rising.

“I insist you let me go right now or I will call the police!” I cried out.

He just laughed. “Innocent girl, but then that’s what appeals to me. You’re such a novice.”

I kept my back to him. “Look, Mr. Satterly, there is some misunderstanding. I’m not a call girl—I’m an actress. Dom hired me to accompany him to drinks last night, but I’d never met him before in my life.”

“Very good story. But even you can’t be that fucked up. You know what The Avalon is. You must know about the tenant on the sixty-ninth floor.”

“What? What are you talking about? I’m a delivery girl, nothing more. I delivered the dress I was wearing last night to Mr. North. When he asked me to be his date, well, hired me, it was the only thing to wear.”

“It doesn’t matter. Come here, Sam. Whatever happened between you and Dom doesn’t matter—I won’t hold it against you. He sent you to me, you know.” His voice was a crazy sing-song, as though he was trying to cajole me like a child. The man was insane!

“He wouldn’t do that,” I denied.

“But he did.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“How do you know? If you just met Dom yesterday, what do you really know about him? He lives a life of mystery—they all do in that building. I’ve been considering getting my own floor there. Perhaps, if you’re good to me, I’ll buy a floor and you can live there, keeping it ready for me when I come to town to be there with you.”

“Noooo... Let me out.”

“Sam, calm yourself. They’re used to women screaming here. They can’t even hear you. No one will come to rescue you. It will be much easier if you just cooperate. Come in here and lie down by me. I will be good to you…so very, very good to you. You don’t have to worry about money from now on, I promise you. Want me to suck your pretty little cunt? I will, you know. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll feed you my nice, thick dick.”

My stomach was ready to heave. I didn’t know what to do. I was trapped in this room with this hideous man and Dom had betrayed me… he and Eric. I remembered my phone and scrambled to find it in the small evening bag I carried. Who should I call? “Mr. Satterly, I’m over-reacting, I’m sorry.” I tried to buy some time. “Please, go back in and lie down, or have a drink and give me a few minutes to collect myself and take off my clothes.”

He seemed to understand this. “One drink, Sam, and then if you’re not in there, I’m coming for you, and I won’t suck your cunt.”

“Yes, one drink and I’ll be there, I promise.” I felt ill and terrified. How was I going to escape this maniac?

I hunched over my phone. I texted Barry. “Help. I’m trapped at the Expose Club on 69th Street. Tell the bouncer I’m being raped. Third floor, tropical room. Name is Satterly. Come get me now!”

There was no response. Damn Barry anyway! I called 9-1-1. “I can’t speak loudly but I’m a prisoner of a Mr. Satterly on the third floor of the Expose Club. I’m about to be raped. Send help.”

“Lady, calm down. That building isn’t our jurisdiction. Heh! It’s not in anybody’s jurisdiction—strictly off limits.” The line disconnected.

Off limits? What the hell? Was there such a thing?

“They won’t save you, Sam.” Satterly was behind me. How did he know?

“Leave me alone.”

“Now, Sam, you gave me your word. The police won’t come. This building is owned by mutually agreeable embassies. Didn’t you know that? Didn’t you notice the international crowd downstairs in the club?”

That’s what was so strange! All the different languages, I realized. I panicked and began beating on the glass again, hoping to break it.

There was a loud thump on the door. I jumped back out of the way as whoever was on the outside lunged at it again and this time, the door gave way, the frame splintered.

Dom stood there.

“You ass! You liar! How dare you put me in this…this…predicament!” I flew at him, my fingers curled into weapons. He caught my wrists and swung his head to one side before I clawed him. He lifted me into his arms, didn’t give Satterly a single look and carried me down the hall toward the mezzanine and the elevator.

Once inside with the doors closed, he wrapped his arms around me, trapping me against his chest. “It’s not what you think, Samantha. Don’t make a scene, please. My car is outside and I’m taking you back to my apartment, or to yours—you name it. I know you’re scared but I wasn’t behind this. Now hush, the doors are opening. Don’t buy us any trouble.”

Although there was absolutely no reason for me to trust him and despite all the evidence that pointed at him—I believed him. I kept my peace as we left the club.

“Can we go to my place, so I can explain what happened? Will you trust me that far?” His eyes looked earnest.

I nodded, and the driver tucked us into the limo. “Come here, Samantha. You’re trembling. We’re almost there,” Dom soothed me, pulling me against his chest.

Before I knew it, Dom was unlocking his door and I went into the living room, looking out the window. He came up behind me, a warm, fur throw in his hands that he wrapped around my shoulders. He was right; I was shivering but it wasn’t just the chilly outdoor temperature. I was afraid and confused. He left for a moment and then pulled me by the hand to the sofa, holding a snifter of brandy to my lips. “Drink,” he ordered me.

“I don’t want to drink. I want to know what happened. Eric showed up outside my apartment, telling me that he had orders from you. I trusted what he said and did as he asked. My god, my clothes are across town at a hotel! Then, he drove me to that awful club and I was lured into that sex cubicle with Satterly, stark naked! Dom, he was going to rape me!”

“Shhh… I’m sorry, I know. Eric was here as you left this morning, as you know. Apparently, Satterly had taken a shine to you and wanted your companionship in return for giving Eric his business. Eric asked me to convince you to do it and I told him, in no uncertain terms, that it wasn’t going to happen. Apparently, Eric decided to go around me.”

“Why? What kind of trouble can he be in to be involved in kidnapping? I’m not a whore. I’m not something men can use to bargain with each other!”

“His head is up his father-in-law’s ass. It’s a tough world out there, sweetheart. New York isn’t for the innocent. You need someone to look after you.”

I was starving. “Would it be okay if I checked out your fridge?”

“Of course, why didn’t I think of it sooner? Let me order something hot up. There’s a café downstairs that’s open round the clock. How about a hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes and gravy?”

“Oh, god that sounds wonderful! Real food. Would you?”

“My pleasure,” he said and tapped his phone. The food was delivered in a few minutes and we set up at a table in the living room. Dom brought out a bottle of red wine and uncorked it, pouring some in each of our glasses. I liked the domestic scene; the fur throw, the hearty food, and the wine before the fireplace. It went a long way to relaxing me after the terror of the afternoon.

Dom felt it, too. I was still shivery. “Come with me,” he held out his hand.

I willingly stumbled behind him, muttering as we went. “Someone needs to put a stop to men like Satterly. How dare he. How dare Eric!”

“Shhh…it’s over and it won’t happen again,” he said in a calming voice. We went into his room and he filled and turned on his white marble soaking tub with jets. I stood like a tentative child as he pulled off my clothes, piece by piece. He lifted me into the tub and then stripped and climbed in behind me. Spreading his legs, he pulled me between them and I leaned backward, against his chest. A stand next to the tub held a variety of bathing articles, including the scented bath beads he’d dropped into the water. It was neither a masculine nor feminine scent; but just clean-smelling in a sunny beach sort of way. I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent as he activated the jets and the water gently pummeled my skin.

I felt Dom’s hand on my breast and opened my eyes. He’d just picked up a sponge and was tenderly smoothing it over me. He worked the upper part of my chest and neck first, lifting my breasts and rubbing me beneath. His arms were very long, compared to my body, making it easy for him to explore further downward. I felt the sponge on my shaven pussy as Dom rubbed slowly and gently in an up and down motion. He reached for my thigh and said, “Point your toes to the ceiling.” I did as he asked, and he scooted me around like a ballerina’s pirouette, so I was facing him. He bathed my leg, the back of my knee and my toes, kissing each in turn.

I was so relaxed, I almost fell asleep. Dom grasped my ankles and opened my legs, pulling me by the waist toward him and upward until my pussy was only an inch from his mouth. The jets of the tub were close by, vibrating my nipples and bubbles lifted like clouds and floated past my face. Dom’s lips touched me gently, nibbling at my labia lips as though I were a treasured pastry. The warmth made me feel erotic and I fastened my ankles behind his head and let him eat me. My hips ground from left to right; Dom’s mouth in me and the vibrating bubbles like a thousand tiny fishes nibbling at my breasts.

Then it was my turn. I unlocked my ankles and rolled to my tummy. I backed up my hips and then closed my eyes and dove through the bubbles until my mouth was around Dom’s straining cock. He pulled me up by the chin. “Don’t drown,” he cautioned, and I simply laughed and went back down.

I slid the end of his cock into my mouth and used my fingers to gently pummel his balls, pressing into the tender area just above. The constant, deep pressure was like a man massaging a woman’s clit and I knew I’d found his special spot. Coming up for a breath of air every thirty seconds or so, I went in sideways, wrapping my legs around one of his thighs while my mouth stroked his cock. He could feel my breasts hugging him as my lips flicked against his tip; an erotic pleasure that seemed to render him almost helpless against me.

“You like this?” I’d risen above the water, my ass like an island in the soapy sea. His answer was to lunge upward, pulling me with him and stepping out of the tub, he tossed me carefully on to his bed.

I shivered in the cool air against my wet skin and Dom grabbed a huge towel and began drying me, kissing each inch of my skin as he uncovered it. Wrapping the towel around my shoulders, he parted my legs and sat me down on his hard, erect cock and by bouncing me rapidly, he hammered me until my clit begged for release. I was panting with the need and just as I was about to flood, he flipped me and pushed into me from above, pinning me to the mattress while the walls of my woman’s tunnel pulsed around the rigid staff he’d placed there. He had extraordinary control as orgasm after orgasm broke through me. With the last, he pumped me quickly and filled me full of his salty life’s white blood. It felt like a sacred moment.

When it had passed, and we were both satiated, he picked me up and laid me back in the tub, giving me a thorough going over again with the sponge. “I think I’m clean now,” I suggested in a cocky tone and was rewarded with another bear hug in a thick towel.

We laid side by side on the bed, staring at the ceiling, panting and feeling the glow. I didn’t want to fall asleep; I couldn’t let my day end in his bed again.

I wasn’t sure if he was dosing, but I pushed myself up onto one elbow and asked, “So, what about Eric?”

Dom looked at me, his strong fingers lifting the goblet of wine he’d brought with him from our uneaten dinner as if it was air. He wore a heavy pinky ring that emphasized the strong, muscled fingers I remembered from the night before and a few minutes earlier. Had it only been last night?

“What about him?”

“Well, he more or less kidnapped me.”

“He’ll be taken care of.” He held the glass to my lips and I took a short sip.

I leaned forward. “How?”

“You don’t want to ask,” Dom said, rolling off the bed and pulling a casual outfit from his closet.

I swallowed hard as my imagination took flight. “There are clothes at that hotel.”

“Do you need them?”

“Well, in a way… I was dressed for the casting call and what I was wearing didn’t all belong to me. I don’t have anything to else to wear.”

Dom reached for his phone and just as I was again dressed, he received a text that the car was waiting. “You ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“To get your clothes.”

“No, I just need the outfit I wore this morning. The pieces didn’t all belong to me, that’s all.”

He held out his hand and I followed. We climbed into the limo and he gave the driver instructions for a row of shops down Fifth Avenue. He opened a compartment and handed me a small platter of iced shrimp and artfully-arranged raw vegetables. “You didn’t eat upstairs. Go ahead, I love to watch your mouth while you eat.”

When I’d finished, the driver opened the door and the golden gates of shops lay before us. I followed like a puppy on a leash as Dom filled bags with some of the most gorgeous clothing I’d ever seen, including designer labels and originals. “This isn’t necessary. I just need the black blazer I wore this morning,” I protested, albeit mildly. After all, what woman didn’t love beautiful clothes?

“You’re not going back to that hotel—not ever.”

“But the blazer…”

Dom’s face was stern as he repeated his words slowly, “Not ever.”

I decided I’d offer the roommate who lent me the blazer, one of the pieces of clothing Dom had bought me that night, or I could return it and pick out a blazer to replace it. It just seemed to be the decent thing to do.

We went back to The Avalon and he unlocked the apartment and switched on a light. George followed, his arms filled with my bags. Dom motioned to the first bedroom and George disappeared momentarily as he deposited everything on the bed. Dom slipped him a folded bill as he passed by us on his way back to the elevator.

Dom kicked the door closed and headed toward the living room, but something was bothering me. There were so many unanswered questions. I stopped short, turned a stool at the kitchen island and perched there. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, “what is it?”

“As much as I don’t want to remember it, Satterly said something about whoever lives on the sixty-ninth floor of this building.”

“What did he say?” Dom was alert and curious.

“I don’t remember exactly his words, something like I must know about them, but his tone was secretive. I don’t know why, but it’s bothering me. What kind of place is this, anyway?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Samantha. I’m sure you’ve guessed that this building offers a great many amenities to its tenants and not the least of which is the right to privacy. There are people here who can afford anything they want if you get my drift.”

“How long have you lived here?” I asked him.

“Long enough to respect people’s privacy.”

Dom was also being secretive, and it bothered me. I knew I wasn’t in their circle—I had no idea what it was like to have more money than you needed. But there had to be some basic, common things that people shared, no matter their financial status.

“Is that your way of telling me to mind my own business?” My cackles were beginning to rise.

“No, not at all. You’re free to ask anyone, but I doubt you’ll learn anything. Look, I’m just trying to point out that the people who live in this building prefer to keep their business private. The place is set up that way. The fact that you got up here to my floor was only because I happened to know what you were delivering, and I needed it. In fact, I asked the doorman to sign for me and send you away.”

I felt slapped. My mind was hearing him say that I’d overstepped my place in the social stratus and if it hadn’t been for him specifically needing what I had, I wouldn’t have been allowed to see him. “Okay, I get it,” I said and stood up. I gathered my coat and bag, turning to the door. “Dom, I’ll catch you later. Thanks for coming to my rescue, but then… well, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped if it hadn’t been for you and your friends.

“Samantha, don’t do this,” he warned and that made me all the angrier. I closed his door with exaggerated gentleness and took the elevator to the ground. He didn’t follow me.

Being right doesn’t mean you’re necessarily happy about it.