Welcome to Slate City
Part 1- Eliza becomes a guest of the Slate City justice system.
I knew it wasn’t going be a good day the moment I opened my eyes.
Hangover. Everything hurt. Even my hair. I rolled over and groaned, already feeling sorry for myself.
Then a cheerful voice next to me chirped. “Poor Eliza. Too much drinky-drinky last night?”
I opened one eye. A perky blonde stared back at me. Oh, gawd. The bimbo was still here.
“Hi!” she said. “Remember me?”
“Not very well,” I said honestly. She was adorable and not too bright- she even laughed when I called her ‘bimbo’- and last night had been fun, but bubbly and hangovers don’t belong in the same room together, or even the same city. I thought she had left last night, but apparently not. Whatever. She needed to go.
Blondie pressed her cheek against my bare shoulder. “You’re, like, not much of an interior decorator, are you?”
Easier to clear out fast if I needed to jam. “Nope. I’m a minimalist. It’s my fucking philosophy.”
“So you dress all in black and stuff! Are you, like, a biker chick or just like totally goth?”
“Neither,” I said, closing my eyes. “I’m me. I do my own fucking thing.”
She squealed, sending a bolt of pain through my skull. “Oh! A total rebel-without-a-cause then, right? Awesome! That’s totally hot, you know?”
Oh, man. It was even worse than I thought. She was chatty.
“That’s me,” I said, keeping my breathing shallow. “I’m a regular fucking Guy Fawkes.”
“You say ‘fuck’ a lot, don’t you?”
I kept my eyes closed. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
She perked at the word coffee. “Oh? Like set to automatic brew and stuff?”
“No,” I said. “You’re going to make it. In fact, you’re going to make enough for two. And then you’re going to go away.”
She blinked. “Huh? Don’t you want to have, like, breakfast or something?”
I shuddered at the thought of food. “No, I don’t want breakfast. I don’t want anything but peace and quiet.”
She giggled. “You want peace? I can give you a piece.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cute. But the essential word is ‘quiet’, if you take my meaning.”
“Fine, Miss Grumpy Pants,” she said, pouting. She got out of bed and slipped into her little red dress, then flounced toward the kitchen.
I dropped my head back to the pillow and concentrated on breathing without throwing up.
Things were being moved around in the kitchen, which meant coffee would soon be happening. A good thing. Meanwhile, my mind wandered back through last night’s haze.
The Beast commission.
Okay, granted, I’d cheated a little to score the commission. Maybe a lot. Who knew for sure if that blueprint I swiped would have been chosen over mine? Regardless, I’d taken steps to make my dream happen and I wasn’t going to apologize for it. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d stolen a bunch of them. Just one.
This tattoo was going to put me on the inker map in Chrystal Heights, Darkview, Stone Valley…everywhere. Even Slate fucking City would know who I was.
I sat up slowly and took a deep breath. The brewing coffee’s aroma was filling the apartment. Blondie was good for something after all.
After an intense stretch, I put on some grungy clothes and made my way out to the living room. I decided to take another look at the design. For the rush, if nothing else.
I casually glanced around, then came to a stop.
My table was empty.
Heart pounding, I looked around again, more carefully this time. Still nothing.
Fighting rising panic, I started sliding my fingers behind couch cushions and checking shelves. Where the hell had I put Beast’s tattoo blueprint? And the other blueprint, the stolen one, for that matter?
The bubbly voice sang out. “Elizaaaa! Coffeeeeeee’s ready!”
I charged into the kitchen and grabbed the bimbo by the front of her dress. She shrieked as I shook her.
“Where are they?!” I said, my face an inch from hers. “Where?!”
Her eyes were wide with fright. “Where’s what?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“The designs!” I said through clenched teeth. “The tattoo blueprints I had last night. I left them on the living room table. Now where the hell are they?!”
“Blueprints?” she said, trying to quell the quake in her voice. “What blueprints? I don’t know about any blueprints! But if you’re talking about those pictures you had, your friend picked them up after you passed out last night!”
Holy shit. “Friend…?”
She nodded rapidly, blonde hair flying everywhere. “Yeah, your friend. He seemed kinda intense and stuff, but he didn’t do anything. He just said he was there to pick up some papers and stuff, you know?”
My stomach was a tight knot. “You gave him my blueprints?!”
She squealed in terror, her eyes watering. “I didn’t know, Eliza! He just came in and stuff! He said you were, like, expecting him! I said I’d wake you up, but he saw the papers and said don’t bother, that’s what he was looking for and that you knew he was coming for them.”
I took a deep breath. I was seriously close to hurting the ditz. “Did he give you a name?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It was a funny name. He said his name was Cosmo.”
I closed my eyes. Cosmo. That had to be Sir Cosmo, the inker whose sample I had snuck out of Beast’s tent. He had somehow found out. Shit.
I had to get those blueprints back. It was that simple. Losing Beast’s blueprint the night I received it would not only cost me the commission, but it would make me a fucking laughingstock and certainly wipe out any chance I had at future commissions. I could reproduce the basic design easily enough, but not the changes he requested. I couldn’t remember how I got home last night, let alone remember the minute changes he had specified. Besides, as long as Cosmo had those blueprints, he had proof I’d stolen stuff right out of Beast’s tent. Being on the wrong side of Beast and his biker gang was a really bad place to be.
But Cosmo was surely gone by now, back home in Slate City. Getting the picture back from there would be problematic at best. Slate City was a weird place by all accounts and I’d never even been there. Word was you had to drive through an entry point to even get inside the town these days and they didn’t let anyone in without a good reason. I didn’t know a soul in the city.
I was still gripping the bimbo by the front of her dress. I exhaled and pushed her away from me.
“I’m really sorry,” she said in a small voice. “Is it bad?”
I sighed. “Yeah, ditz, it’s bad.”
Her eyes were still watery and her mascara had run. “Can I help?”
I dropped onto the couch. “I doubt it, bimbo. Not unless you can get me into fucking Slate City.”
She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Slate City? Like, why would you want to go there?”
“Business,” I said curtly.
“But…but…but women are, like, slaves there and stuff, you know? I mean, they have to wear collars and…and…well…stuff!”
I looked at blondie. She really did seem concerned. “That just means I’ll have to be careful, doesn’t it?”
The floozy stared at me, her eyes doubtful, looking as if she was turning something over in her teeny, tiny mind. Finally she looked down and mumbled. “I, ummm, could probably, like, ummm, get you into Slate City.”
I stared at her. She had spoken so low, I’d barely heard her. “Did you just say you could get me into the city?”
She looked at me unhappily. “Yes. But it’s really not a good idea. They don’t like visitors, you know. I’d have to sneak you in and if you got caught, you’d probably end up in jail or something.”
I smiled. “That’d be my problem, bimbo, not yours.”
*****
And that was how I ended up in the bimbo’s trunk, covered by blankets and boxes. It wasn’t a comfortable ride- I was positive she was hitting the brake far harder than necessary with malicious intent- but eventually I felt the car park and get turned off. Moments later the trunk lid opened and the blankets and boxes were pulled away.
I slowly got out of the trunk. We were in a city alley. Posters for various bands and clubs papered the walls, lit by flickering neon lights. A fluorescent sign pulsed just beyond the alley mouth. It was quiet, other than some music coming from a nearby bar that bore the ostentatious name of Sir Gregory’s Pub. Sir Cosmo, Sir Gregory…what the hell was it with Slate City and these silly fucking names?
I shook my head and did some stretches. I’d been in the trunk for less than an hour, but I still felt stiff and sore. Hadn’t done my hangover any favors, either.
The blonde looked relieved. “Omigod! I was soooooo scared you couldn’t, like, breathe and stuff!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, bimbo. You did good.”
She beamed. “Really?!”
I chuckled at her earnestness. “Yes, really. Now, where are we?”
Blondie looked up and down the street. “We’re in, like, downtown Slate City. That’s Grand Slate Avenue there, sort of like Main Street in Chrystal Heights, you know?”
I nodded. “Got it. Cosmo’s shop is a few blocks north of here then.”
Blondie mimed covering her ears. “Ummmmm, I don’t think you should, like, tell me anything else, you know? I mean, like, if you’re gonna do something illegal or stuff.”
I chuckled. “What’s a little breaking and entering between friends, right?”
“Omigod! I totally didn’t hear that!”
I finished my stretches. “Relax, bimbo. Everything’s going to be fine. Now, do you remember the plan?”
She nodded, blonde hair flying. “Uh-huh! I’m supposed to meet you back here at, like, midnight. If you, umm, got what you came for, we’re, like, leaving right away. If not, we’ll get, like, a motel room and you’ll, umm, look again tomorrow.”
I smiled and booped her nose. “Perfect.”
She beamed, then gave a cutsie look and said slyly, “I’m kinda hoping you don’t find your pictures tonight and we can hang out in a hotel room together, you know?”
I gave her a tolerant smile and said, “Don’t worry, bimbo. Once I pull this off, we’ll party in style…after I put them someplace much safer.”
“Totally cool! I can’t wait!”
A nearby door opened then and music spilled into the alley through the open doorway- obviously a back entrance to Sir Gregory’s kitchen. A scantily clad brunette walked out carrying an empty box.
The brunette was barefoot and wearing a skirt that barely covered her rounded ass. Her only top covering was a snug tube top that did nothing to hide the shape of her breasts and left her entire navel bare. Topping off the outfit- or lack of one- was a forest-green collar around her throat with the words “Sir Gregory’s Pub” visible across the front. Even a Hooter’s uniform would have covered more. She looked vaguely familiar, but that was probably because she looked like every other girl who let themselves be put on display in testosterone-saturated environments.
I shook my head. “So collars really are a thing here? Wow. Just wow.”
She looked at me in sudden consternation. “I’m sorry, ma’am? Did I displease in some way?”
Blondie tugged on my arm. “She’s just a pub bunny, Eliza. She can’t, like, help it, you know?”
The girl was staring at her feet. I finally rolled my eyes. “You’re right. Whatever. Go back to work.”
The girl scurried away.
Blondie shook her head. “You gotta be totally careful with that kind of thing. You can’t interfere with, like, local customs, you know? You’ll draw attention to yourself and stuff.”
I rolled my eyes again. “All right, all right. I got it. If she wants to be fluff bouncing around for male viewing pleasure, then it’s her business.”
“It’s not that simple-“
I held up my hand. “Another time. Just be here at midnight, okay?”
Blondie nodded, hair bouncing everywhere. “I will!”
I turned and walked away then, heading for Cosmo’s tattoo parlor.
*****
I made my way down the street, still steamed about the waitress. Or pub bunny, as Blondie had called her. Reflecting back, I realized I had misdirected my ire when I snapped at the girl. She was probably in her younger twenties, like me, and I had my own business going while she was prancing around in a micro-skirt, but to be fair, she was probably just making the best she could of her situation. It wasn’t fair to compare her to myself. Not every girl had my drive and ability. I should have instead directed my irritation at the archaic social system that slotted women as barefoot eye candy and men as Sir This and Sir That. It sounded like Slate City men were overcompensating for something.
I didn’t have long for personal reflection, though, as I soon found myself looking at a large neon sign announcing ‘Sir Cosmo’s Tattoo Parlor’. A line of larger horizontal neon red letters spelled out ‘Tattoo’ for good measure.
Standing across the street, I watched my nemesis through the plate glass display window. His shop seemed nice enough. It was well-lit and clean. A video screen on the wall was showing an anime advertisement for an energy drink.
Cosmo himself was a tall, muscular man with a shaven head and a long, dark goatee. He moved with confidence and seemed quite sure of himself. The jerk. Well, he was in for a surprise.
The trick was in thinking like Cosmo. He wasn’t going to leave the Beast blueprint at home, because he wanted to keep an eye on it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake I made. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to leave it in plain sight, either. That just wouldn’t be smart. That meant he was keeping it someplace in the back- most likely in a workshop setting or office, if he had one.
So my job was to sneak into the back while he was working on a tattoo. No problem, right?
All right, so it wouldn’t be the easiest job in the world. But I did have an advantage. The front of Cosmo’s tattoo parlor faced the main street, but the back of his parlor faced an alley. And there was a window there. So I already knew that Cosmo had his studio office back there.
The door had what appeared to be a solid deadbolt, so I wasn’t getting in that way. But the window was a slide-up job that I was pretty sure I could work open from the outside. So with just a little luck, this was an in-and-out job. I just needed Cosmo to stay busy long enough for me to get in, grab the blueprint and make tracks outta there.
I figured Cosmo would be working late- tattoo artists usually do- but not that late, so I couldn’t wait too long. From my vantage point here across the street, I’d be able to see when Cosmo got a customer.
I didn’t have to wait long. After twenty minutes, a man in a suit entered the shop, followed by a barefoot, scantily-clad woman. She was wearing a collar on her neck and he was leading her by a leash.
This was a really stupid fucking city.
Cosmo and the man in the suit were talking. The suit was gesturing toward the girl. I couldn’t hear anything, of course, but it appeared the suit wanted a tattoo for her, rather than himself.
Whatever. I didn’t care who got the tattoo, as long as it kept Cosmo out of the back room long enough for me to get in, grab the blueprint and get back out.
Cosmo left the front area and went into the back room, probably for supplies. Meanwhile the girl took off her top and was now naked from the waist up. Cosmo re-entered the area and indicated a chair, which the girl climbed into. Cosmo adjusted the chair until it was at the angle he wanted. Then he took out a marker and leaned over the girl.
He was drawing the outline for a tattoo. Perfect. Time to make my move.
As I made my way back across the street, I took a moment to see what Cosmo was drawing on her. He was working on the back of her left shoulder-blade. It took a moment for me to make out the design before I finally realized what it was.
It was a bar code. Very distinct, complete with numbers. Cute.
Not that bar code tattoos bothered me. The opposite, in fact, since it was my profession, after all. But getting inked was for the purpose of creative expression, not as a fucking property deed.
Whatever. Stupid fucking city. At least it would keep Cosmo busy enough for the next hour or so. Enough time to do what I needed to do.
I made my way back into the alley and started working the back window to Cosmo’s office. It took some doing, but I finally managed to work the window up. Fortunately the window appeared to be opened on a regular basis, as it slid up almost completely noiselessly.
I went straight to the desk and rifled the drawers. Nothing. I started picking up books and moving stuff around the desk, but still nothing. I was starting to get nervous when my eyes fell on a cabinet.
I had assumed the cabinet was for holding extra equipment, but I was almost out of options. As I swung open the cabinet door, however, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hello there,” I said happily, seeing the front of a combination safe.
It was a basic combination lock safe. It should have taken me 30 seconds, but even being rusty, I was swinging the door open in less than two minutes.
And there they were. My blueprints.
It was time to go. I grabbed the blueprints, closed the safe and turned back toward the window. As I put my hand on the windowsill, however, I heard movement behind me.
“What are you doing in my office?” said a voice. Heart pounding, I glanced over my shoulder.
Cosmo.
He was moving toward me and he looked even bigger now than he did through the front plate glass window. With no time to spare, I dropped the blueprint outside the window, put both hands on the sill and pulled myself through the window for a very undignified landing outside.
Blood racing, I grabbed the blueprint and rolled to my feet, then took off running down the alley. I knew Cosmo had to unlock the deadbolt before he could give chase, so I had a head start of at least several seconds. I was going to need every one of those seconds.
I raced down the alley for a block, then cut back to the main street. Then I made a bee-line for where Blondie had parked her car.
My destination loomed just ahead. As I rounded the corner at Sir Gregory’s Pub into the alley where Blondie had parked her car, however, I was in for a startling surprise.
The car was gone.
My eyes widened as panic momentarily seized me. Then a chirpy voice said, “Omigod! Eliza! You’re, like, back! But what did you do? There’s police, like, everywhere!”
I exhaled in relief. “Dammit, bimbo! You almost gave me a heart attack! Where’s your car?!”
Blondie was trying to look in all directions at once. “The police said I was, like, parked illegally and stuff, you know? I had to move my car across the street! Didja get your pictures? ‘Cuz we gotta, like, get out of here, you know?”
That was probably the smartest thing Blondie had ever said. “Yeah, I got ‘em. Let’s cut out of here.”
I started heading back toward the main street, but Blondie suddenly gasped and stopped me. “Omigod! More police! They’re, like, heading this way! Did someone see you when you took the pictures?”
Dammit. “Yeah. Someone saw me.”
Blondie stamped her feet. “Oh, bubblegum. We can’t leave until things, like, cool down, you know? If they catch you in my car, I’ll get in trouble too. I like you and stuff, but I am sooooo not getting in trouble in Slate City for you. I’ll hide the pictures in the car so you can’t, like, get caught with ‘em or anything like that, but you gotta stay out of sight, ‘kay?”
I wasn’t happy about letting the blueprint out of my sight again, but Blondie was right. If I did get caught and searched, having the blueprint on me was evidence of my break-in. I reluctantly handed her the blueprints.
“Here,” I said, forcing my fingers to let go. “Protect this with your life.”
She took the blueprint and turned to cross the street. Then she stopped and turned back around.
“Ummmm, Eliza? That guy who, like, came by your apartment and took the pictures from me? He’s like right down the street with some police officers. He’s totally coming this way. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
I exhaled. “Dammit. Yes, that’s bad.”
She pushed me away from the sidewalk and steered me toward the side door to Sir Gregory’s Pub, where I had seen the pub bimbo come out earlier.
She opened the door without hesitation. “Quick! In here!”
Having no choice, I stepped inside. We were in a short hallway.
Blondie glanced around, then pointed to a small room. “That’s a pub-bunny changing room. Get in there and disguise yourself. Hurry! Before anyone, like, comes back here!”
I stared at Blondie. “You seriously expect me to dress like a bimbo? Have you lost your mind?”
Blondie nodded desperately, looking in all directions at once. “Nobody looks at the bunnies, you know? They’re, like, part of the background and stuff.”
I opened my mouth to retort, then realized she had a point. I wasn’t happy about it, but the bimbo was right. It was hiding in plain sight. And I only needed to pull it off for a couple minutes.
I started grabbing at whatever spare uniform pieces- such as they were- were available. “All right. What about you?”
“They’re looking for you, not me,” she said. “I don’t need to be disguised. But we need to get you dressed fast. Can we quit talking about it and get it done?”
I actually laughed. She was so nervous that she was almost speaking normally. It was cute.
I quickly stripped and, under Blondie’s direction, put on the uniform, such as it was. The first problem came when I slid the stupid elastic tubetop into place. It was obviously meant for a much shorter girl. Even with it being elastic and stretchy, I still had trouble sliding it over my modest boobs.
“Fuck,” I said. “Do they only hire anorexic midgets here? I can barely breathe.”
“Pub bunnies are usually, umm, more endowed up there, you know? That’s probably why that one is sitting in a closet and not being used.”
I rolled my eyes, but didn’t have time to voice my opinion. I grabbed the skirt and started stepping into it.
She grabbed my wrist. “Nuh-uh. No panties.”
I looked at her. “What?”
She pointed at my dark blue underwear and shook her head. “No panties. No bunny working at a pub would be wearing underwear. Well, maybe a thong, but nothing like what you’ve got on. Your panty lines stand out a mile.”
I pulled the skirt into place, then swore lividly as I pulled down my panties and stepped out of them. How the hell the girls were able to concentrate on anything dressed like this? I felt positively naked.
Then Blondie realized I had a problem. I didn’t have a collar and there were none in the room I could see. That seemed like the kind of thing that would stand out in this stupid city.
Fortunately I had worn a leather belt with my jeans. I wasn’t happy about having to cut up my belt, but after a few decorative slices, it was a passable collar. Well, mostly passable. It didn’t have “Sir Gregory’s Pub” studded on it, but if anybody saw me, I would just keep my chin down. Ditzy as she was, Blondie was right. Nobody noticed the waitresses in the background, and a small detail like that would hopefully escape notice.
Blondie gathered my clothes under one arm. “Just stay out of sight for a little while, ‘kay? Then we’ll get you to my car and, like, get you out of here.”
I held up a hand. “Hold on, bimbo. Where do you think you’re going with my clothes?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Ummmm…if you get noticed and you run out the door, are you, like, gonna run through the streets dressed like that? If I have your clothes, I can give them to you when you leave.”
She had a point, but I wasn’t happy about having to count on a bimbo so heavily. “Fine,” I said grudgingly. “Just don’t go far, all right? I don’t plan on staying dressed like this for long.”
She nodded, blonde locks flying everywhere. “I got it, yeppers. I’ll hang out in the alley and, like, let you know when the coast is clear, ‘kay? Now I’m getting out of here. I’m totally trespassing right now.”
I laughed, but Blondie didn’t hear. She was already rushing back into the alley.
*****
Everything was quiet again. I exhaled and made myself relax. I just needed to kill an hour or two. That would likely be long enough for the heat to die down to a point where I could slip over to Blondie’s car and get the hell out of this crazy city.
I could hear movement down the hall in the kitchen, so I made sure to stay out of line-of-sight. Unless there was a shift change or something, there was even a chance nobody would notice me in here.
The prospect cheered me. I was at most two hours away from slipping out of Slate City with the blueprints back in my possession. I admittedly felt bad for Cosmo for doing him bad twice, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
After a little while, I started getting fidgety. I felt ridiculous in this fucking uniform and I wanted to get dressed and get the hell out. Surely the heat had died down outside. I decided to risk a glance outside the room.
A peek outside the door revealed no one, so I stepped into the hall and padded toward the kitchen on quiet bare feet. Suddenly I stopped.
Standing in the kitchen, talking to what appeared to be a manager, were two police officers. The manager was pointing in my general direction. As if on cue, both officers turned and looked right at me.
So much for subtly. I spun and dashed for the door to the alley. Good thing Blondie had been foresighted enough to take my clothes, because I wouldn’t have had a chance to grab them. Hopefully she had the car parked in the alley and ready to go, though, because it was going to be close. I hit the door running and burst into the alley.
Right into the arms of two waiting police officers.
I bounced off the startled officers and, after a moment’s recovery, turned and dashed in the opposite direction. One of them shouted, “Halt!”
I ignored the command. A moment later I heard a strange pffffft sound and felt something sharp sting my barely-covered bottom.
I ignored the stinging in my backside and kept running, but then gasped as a crazy wave of intense heat swept through my body. I lost all strength in my knees as dropped to the alley floor, eyes wide, cheeks flushing. I was lubricating uncontrollably, my belly muscles twitching and jumping beyond my ability to control them. My nipples stiffened into hard, sensitive nubs and my hand slapped down between my legs, my fingers slipping effortlessly into my wet, sopping pussy.
I fell onto my back, heedless of the police, heedless of anything except for desperately trying to get myself off. I couldn’t stop. My fingers pistoned back and forth inside my gushing pussy, but nothing I did allowed me any relief. I’d never been this aroused, this fucking hot, in my life. Not ever. I was moaning in need, my legs splayed out as I tried to satisfy my out-of-control heat.
As I writhed in helpless need on the floor of the alley, I heard the other officers exit the pub. Shoes crunched on the concrete and then a moment later several figures were standing around my prone, furiously masturbating body.
A heavy hand reached down and lifted my chin, exposing my ‘collar’. Then I was rolled to my right side, my left shoulder lifted off the concrete, even as I continued furiously jilling myself, my fingers helplessly working and pinching my clit. Then the hand released me and through the haze of heat and need, I could hear them talking to each other, although it sounded far away, dreamlike.
“She’s no pub bunny, sir. Looks like that anonymous caller was right. She was hiding in the back of the pub.”
“No problems catching her, I take it?”
“None, sir. She caught us by surprise busting out the door like that, but we just popped her with some heat and that dropped her.”
“All right. Put her in the car and take her to the station.”
“Yessir.”
Strong hands lifted me to my feet. My hands were pulled away from my pussy and I shrieked, furiously trying to free my arms so I could get back to getting myself off. My wrists were secured behind my back with leather cuffs. Then a leather sleeve was pulled over my bound hands up to my elbows and then apparently belted, with my elbows nearly touching.
I was screaming, calling them names, anything I could think of. One of the officers behind me suddenly pressed a red rubber ball gag into my mouth and secured the strap behind my head.
I wanted to hit them, kick them, beg them, whatever it took to let me quench the overwhelming heat. I would have let one of them fuck me if it would put out the heat. But they showed no interest in my overheated body other than to bind my ankles with some sort of spacer bar and carry me like a safari captive to the back of a waiting police car.
And just like that, I became a guest of the Slate City justice system.
NEXT: Part 2- Eliza goes to court.
Part 1- Eliza becomes a guest of the Slate City justice system.
I knew it wasn’t going be a good day the moment I opened my eyes.
Hangover. Everything hurt. Even my hair. I rolled over and groaned, already feeling sorry for myself.
Then a cheerful voice next to me chirped. “Poor Eliza. Too much drinky-drinky last night?”
I opened one eye. A perky blonde stared back at me. Oh, gawd. The bimbo was still here.
“Hi!” she said. “Remember me?”
“Not very well,” I said honestly. She was adorable and not too bright- she even laughed when I called her ‘bimbo’- and last night had been fun, but bubbly and hangovers don’t belong in the same room together, or even the same city. I thought she had left last night, but apparently not. Whatever. She needed to go.
Blondie pressed her cheek against my bare shoulder. “You’re, like, not much of an interior decorator, are you?”
Easier to clear out fast if I needed to jam. “Nope. I’m a minimalist. It’s my fucking philosophy.”
“So you dress all in black and stuff! Are you, like, a biker chick or just like totally goth?”
“Neither,” I said, closing my eyes. “I’m me. I do my own fucking thing.”
She squealed, sending a bolt of pain through my skull. “Oh! A total rebel-without-a-cause then, right? Awesome! That’s totally hot, you know?”
Oh, man. It was even worse than I thought. She was chatty.
“That’s me,” I said, keeping my breathing shallow. “I’m a regular fucking Guy Fawkes.”
“You say ‘fuck’ a lot, don’t you?”
I kept my eyes closed. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
She perked at the word coffee. “Oh? Like set to automatic brew and stuff?”
“No,” I said. “You’re going to make it. In fact, you’re going to make enough for two. And then you’re going to go away.”
She blinked. “Huh? Don’t you want to have, like, breakfast or something?”
I shuddered at the thought of food. “No, I don’t want breakfast. I don’t want anything but peace and quiet.”
She giggled. “You want peace? I can give you a piece.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cute. But the essential word is ‘quiet’, if you take my meaning.”
“Fine, Miss Grumpy Pants,” she said, pouting. She got out of bed and slipped into her little red dress, then flounced toward the kitchen.
I dropped my head back to the pillow and concentrated on breathing without throwing up.
Things were being moved around in the kitchen, which meant coffee would soon be happening. A good thing. Meanwhile, my mind wandered back through last night’s haze.
The Beast commission.
Okay, granted, I’d cheated a little to score the commission. Maybe a lot. Who knew for sure if that blueprint I swiped would have been chosen over mine? Regardless, I’d taken steps to make my dream happen and I wasn’t going to apologize for it. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d stolen a bunch of them. Just one.
This tattoo was going to put me on the inker map in Chrystal Heights, Darkview, Stone Valley…everywhere. Even Slate fucking City would know who I was.
I sat up slowly and took a deep breath. The brewing coffee’s aroma was filling the apartment. Blondie was good for something after all.
After an intense stretch, I put on some grungy clothes and made my way out to the living room. I decided to take another look at the design. For the rush, if nothing else.
I casually glanced around, then came to a stop.
My table was empty.
Heart pounding, I looked around again, more carefully this time. Still nothing.
Fighting rising panic, I started sliding my fingers behind couch cushions and checking shelves. Where the hell had I put Beast’s tattoo blueprint? And the other blueprint, the stolen one, for that matter?
The bubbly voice sang out. “Elizaaaa! Coffeeeeeee’s ready!”
I charged into the kitchen and grabbed the bimbo by the front of her dress. She shrieked as I shook her.
“Where are they?!” I said, my face an inch from hers. “Where?!”
Her eyes were wide with fright. “Where’s what?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“The designs!” I said through clenched teeth. “The tattoo blueprints I had last night. I left them on the living room table. Now where the hell are they?!”
“Blueprints?” she said, trying to quell the quake in her voice. “What blueprints? I don’t know about any blueprints! But if you’re talking about those pictures you had, your friend picked them up after you passed out last night!”
Holy shit. “Friend…?”
She nodded rapidly, blonde hair flying everywhere. “Yeah, your friend. He seemed kinda intense and stuff, but he didn’t do anything. He just said he was there to pick up some papers and stuff, you know?”
My stomach was a tight knot. “You gave him my blueprints?!”
She squealed in terror, her eyes watering. “I didn’t know, Eliza! He just came in and stuff! He said you were, like, expecting him! I said I’d wake you up, but he saw the papers and said don’t bother, that’s what he was looking for and that you knew he was coming for them.”
I took a deep breath. I was seriously close to hurting the ditz. “Did he give you a name?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It was a funny name. He said his name was Cosmo.”
I closed my eyes. Cosmo. That had to be Sir Cosmo, the inker whose sample I had snuck out of Beast’s tent. He had somehow found out. Shit.
I had to get those blueprints back. It was that simple. Losing Beast’s blueprint the night I received it would not only cost me the commission, but it would make me a fucking laughingstock and certainly wipe out any chance I had at future commissions. I could reproduce the basic design easily enough, but not the changes he requested. I couldn’t remember how I got home last night, let alone remember the minute changes he had specified. Besides, as long as Cosmo had those blueprints, he had proof I’d stolen stuff right out of Beast’s tent. Being on the wrong side of Beast and his biker gang was a really bad place to be.
But Cosmo was surely gone by now, back home in Slate City. Getting the picture back from there would be problematic at best. Slate City was a weird place by all accounts and I’d never even been there. Word was you had to drive through an entry point to even get inside the town these days and they didn’t let anyone in without a good reason. I didn’t know a soul in the city.
I was still gripping the bimbo by the front of her dress. I exhaled and pushed her away from me.
“I’m really sorry,” she said in a small voice. “Is it bad?”
I sighed. “Yeah, ditz, it’s bad.”
Her eyes were still watery and her mascara had run. “Can I help?”
I dropped onto the couch. “I doubt it, bimbo. Not unless you can get me into fucking Slate City.”
She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “Slate City? Like, why would you want to go there?”
“Business,” I said curtly.
“But…but…but women are, like, slaves there and stuff, you know? I mean, they have to wear collars and…and…well…stuff!”
I looked at blondie. She really did seem concerned. “That just means I’ll have to be careful, doesn’t it?”
The floozy stared at me, her eyes doubtful, looking as if she was turning something over in her teeny, tiny mind. Finally she looked down and mumbled. “I, ummm, could probably, like, ummm, get you into Slate City.”
I stared at her. She had spoken so low, I’d barely heard her. “Did you just say you could get me into the city?”
She looked at me unhappily. “Yes. But it’s really not a good idea. They don’t like visitors, you know. I’d have to sneak you in and if you got caught, you’d probably end up in jail or something.”
I smiled. “That’d be my problem, bimbo, not yours.”
*****
And that was how I ended up in the bimbo’s trunk, covered by blankets and boxes. It wasn’t a comfortable ride- I was positive she was hitting the brake far harder than necessary with malicious intent- but eventually I felt the car park and get turned off. Moments later the trunk lid opened and the blankets and boxes were pulled away.
I slowly got out of the trunk. We were in a city alley. Posters for various bands and clubs papered the walls, lit by flickering neon lights. A fluorescent sign pulsed just beyond the alley mouth. It was quiet, other than some music coming from a nearby bar that bore the ostentatious name of Sir Gregory’s Pub. Sir Cosmo, Sir Gregory…what the hell was it with Slate City and these silly fucking names?
I shook my head and did some stretches. I’d been in the trunk for less than an hour, but I still felt stiff and sore. Hadn’t done my hangover any favors, either.
The blonde looked relieved. “Omigod! I was soooooo scared you couldn’t, like, breathe and stuff!”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, bimbo. You did good.”
She beamed. “Really?!”
I chuckled at her earnestness. “Yes, really. Now, where are we?”
Blondie looked up and down the street. “We’re in, like, downtown Slate City. That’s Grand Slate Avenue there, sort of like Main Street in Chrystal Heights, you know?”
I nodded. “Got it. Cosmo’s shop is a few blocks north of here then.”
Blondie mimed covering her ears. “Ummmmm, I don’t think you should, like, tell me anything else, you know? I mean, like, if you’re gonna do something illegal or stuff.”
I chuckled. “What’s a little breaking and entering between friends, right?”
“Omigod! I totally didn’t hear that!”
I finished my stretches. “Relax, bimbo. Everything’s going to be fine. Now, do you remember the plan?”
She nodded, blonde hair flying. “Uh-huh! I’m supposed to meet you back here at, like, midnight. If you, umm, got what you came for, we’re, like, leaving right away. If not, we’ll get, like, a motel room and you’ll, umm, look again tomorrow.”
I smiled and booped her nose. “Perfect.”
She beamed, then gave a cutsie look and said slyly, “I’m kinda hoping you don’t find your pictures tonight and we can hang out in a hotel room together, you know?”
I gave her a tolerant smile and said, “Don’t worry, bimbo. Once I pull this off, we’ll party in style…after I put them someplace much safer.”
“Totally cool! I can’t wait!”
A nearby door opened then and music spilled into the alley through the open doorway- obviously a back entrance to Sir Gregory’s kitchen. A scantily clad brunette walked out carrying an empty box.
The brunette was barefoot and wearing a skirt that barely covered her rounded ass. Her only top covering was a snug tube top that did nothing to hide the shape of her breasts and left her entire navel bare. Topping off the outfit- or lack of one- was a forest-green collar around her throat with the words “Sir Gregory’s Pub” visible across the front. Even a Hooter’s uniform would have covered more. She looked vaguely familiar, but that was probably because she looked like every other girl who let themselves be put on display in testosterone-saturated environments.
I shook my head. “So collars really are a thing here? Wow. Just wow.”
She looked at me in sudden consternation. “I’m sorry, ma’am? Did I displease in some way?”
Blondie tugged on my arm. “She’s just a pub bunny, Eliza. She can’t, like, help it, you know?”
The girl was staring at her feet. I finally rolled my eyes. “You’re right. Whatever. Go back to work.”
The girl scurried away.
Blondie shook her head. “You gotta be totally careful with that kind of thing. You can’t interfere with, like, local customs, you know? You’ll draw attention to yourself and stuff.”
I rolled my eyes again. “All right, all right. I got it. If she wants to be fluff bouncing around for male viewing pleasure, then it’s her business.”
“It’s not that simple-“
I held up my hand. “Another time. Just be here at midnight, okay?”
Blondie nodded, hair bouncing everywhere. “I will!”
I turned and walked away then, heading for Cosmo’s tattoo parlor.
*****
I made my way down the street, still steamed about the waitress. Or pub bunny, as Blondie had called her. Reflecting back, I realized I had misdirected my ire when I snapped at the girl. She was probably in her younger twenties, like me, and I had my own business going while she was prancing around in a micro-skirt, but to be fair, she was probably just making the best she could of her situation. It wasn’t fair to compare her to myself. Not every girl had my drive and ability. I should have instead directed my irritation at the archaic social system that slotted women as barefoot eye candy and men as Sir This and Sir That. It sounded like Slate City men were overcompensating for something.
I didn’t have long for personal reflection, though, as I soon found myself looking at a large neon sign announcing ‘Sir Cosmo’s Tattoo Parlor’. A line of larger horizontal neon red letters spelled out ‘Tattoo’ for good measure.
Standing across the street, I watched my nemesis through the plate glass display window. His shop seemed nice enough. It was well-lit and clean. A video screen on the wall was showing an anime advertisement for an energy drink.
Cosmo himself was a tall, muscular man with a shaven head and a long, dark goatee. He moved with confidence and seemed quite sure of himself. The jerk. Well, he was in for a surprise.
The trick was in thinking like Cosmo. He wasn’t going to leave the Beast blueprint at home, because he wanted to keep an eye on it. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake I made. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to leave it in plain sight, either. That just wouldn’t be smart. That meant he was keeping it someplace in the back- most likely in a workshop setting or office, if he had one.
So my job was to sneak into the back while he was working on a tattoo. No problem, right?
All right, so it wouldn’t be the easiest job in the world. But I did have an advantage. The front of Cosmo’s tattoo parlor faced the main street, but the back of his parlor faced an alley. And there was a window there. So I already knew that Cosmo had his studio office back there.
The door had what appeared to be a solid deadbolt, so I wasn’t getting in that way. But the window was a slide-up job that I was pretty sure I could work open from the outside. So with just a little luck, this was an in-and-out job. I just needed Cosmo to stay busy long enough for me to get in, grab the blueprint and make tracks outta there.
I figured Cosmo would be working late- tattoo artists usually do- but not that late, so I couldn’t wait too long. From my vantage point here across the street, I’d be able to see when Cosmo got a customer.
I didn’t have to wait long. After twenty minutes, a man in a suit entered the shop, followed by a barefoot, scantily-clad woman. She was wearing a collar on her neck and he was leading her by a leash.
This was a really stupid fucking city.
Cosmo and the man in the suit were talking. The suit was gesturing toward the girl. I couldn’t hear anything, of course, but it appeared the suit wanted a tattoo for her, rather than himself.
Whatever. I didn’t care who got the tattoo, as long as it kept Cosmo out of the back room long enough for me to get in, grab the blueprint and get back out.
Cosmo left the front area and went into the back room, probably for supplies. Meanwhile the girl took off her top and was now naked from the waist up. Cosmo re-entered the area and indicated a chair, which the girl climbed into. Cosmo adjusted the chair until it was at the angle he wanted. Then he took out a marker and leaned over the girl.
He was drawing the outline for a tattoo. Perfect. Time to make my move.
As I made my way back across the street, I took a moment to see what Cosmo was drawing on her. He was working on the back of her left shoulder-blade. It took a moment for me to make out the design before I finally realized what it was.
It was a bar code. Very distinct, complete with numbers. Cute.
Not that bar code tattoos bothered me. The opposite, in fact, since it was my profession, after all. But getting inked was for the purpose of creative expression, not as a fucking property deed.
Whatever. Stupid fucking city. At least it would keep Cosmo busy enough for the next hour or so. Enough time to do what I needed to do.
I made my way back into the alley and started working the back window to Cosmo’s office. It took some doing, but I finally managed to work the window up. Fortunately the window appeared to be opened on a regular basis, as it slid up almost completely noiselessly.
I went straight to the desk and rifled the drawers. Nothing. I started picking up books and moving stuff around the desk, but still nothing. I was starting to get nervous when my eyes fell on a cabinet.
I had assumed the cabinet was for holding extra equipment, but I was almost out of options. As I swung open the cabinet door, however, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hello there,” I said happily, seeing the front of a combination safe.
It was a basic combination lock safe. It should have taken me 30 seconds, but even being rusty, I was swinging the door open in less than two minutes.
And there they were. My blueprints.
It was time to go. I grabbed the blueprints, closed the safe and turned back toward the window. As I put my hand on the windowsill, however, I heard movement behind me.
“What are you doing in my office?” said a voice. Heart pounding, I glanced over my shoulder.
Cosmo.
He was moving toward me and he looked even bigger now than he did through the front plate glass window. With no time to spare, I dropped the blueprint outside the window, put both hands on the sill and pulled myself through the window for a very undignified landing outside.
Blood racing, I grabbed the blueprint and rolled to my feet, then took off running down the alley. I knew Cosmo had to unlock the deadbolt before he could give chase, so I had a head start of at least several seconds. I was going to need every one of those seconds.
I raced down the alley for a block, then cut back to the main street. Then I made a bee-line for where Blondie had parked her car.
My destination loomed just ahead. As I rounded the corner at Sir Gregory’s Pub into the alley where Blondie had parked her car, however, I was in for a startling surprise.
The car was gone.
My eyes widened as panic momentarily seized me. Then a chirpy voice said, “Omigod! Eliza! You’re, like, back! But what did you do? There’s police, like, everywhere!”
I exhaled in relief. “Dammit, bimbo! You almost gave me a heart attack! Where’s your car?!”
Blondie was trying to look in all directions at once. “The police said I was, like, parked illegally and stuff, you know? I had to move my car across the street! Didja get your pictures? ‘Cuz we gotta, like, get out of here, you know?”
That was probably the smartest thing Blondie had ever said. “Yeah, I got ‘em. Let’s cut out of here.”
I started heading back toward the main street, but Blondie suddenly gasped and stopped me. “Omigod! More police! They’re, like, heading this way! Did someone see you when you took the pictures?”
Dammit. “Yeah. Someone saw me.”
Blondie stamped her feet. “Oh, bubblegum. We can’t leave until things, like, cool down, you know? If they catch you in my car, I’ll get in trouble too. I like you and stuff, but I am sooooo not getting in trouble in Slate City for you. I’ll hide the pictures in the car so you can’t, like, get caught with ‘em or anything like that, but you gotta stay out of sight, ‘kay?”
I wasn’t happy about letting the blueprint out of my sight again, but Blondie was right. If I did get caught and searched, having the blueprint on me was evidence of my break-in. I reluctantly handed her the blueprints.
“Here,” I said, forcing my fingers to let go. “Protect this with your life.”
She took the blueprint and turned to cross the street. Then she stopped and turned back around.
“Ummmm, Eliza? That guy who, like, came by your apartment and took the pictures from me? He’s like right down the street with some police officers. He’s totally coming this way. That’s bad, isn’t it?”
I exhaled. “Dammit. Yes, that’s bad.”
She pushed me away from the sidewalk and steered me toward the side door to Sir Gregory’s Pub, where I had seen the pub bimbo come out earlier.
She opened the door without hesitation. “Quick! In here!”
Having no choice, I stepped inside. We were in a short hallway.
Blondie glanced around, then pointed to a small room. “That’s a pub-bunny changing room. Get in there and disguise yourself. Hurry! Before anyone, like, comes back here!”
I stared at Blondie. “You seriously expect me to dress like a bimbo? Have you lost your mind?”
Blondie nodded desperately, looking in all directions at once. “Nobody looks at the bunnies, you know? They’re, like, part of the background and stuff.”
I opened my mouth to retort, then realized she had a point. I wasn’t happy about it, but the bimbo was right. It was hiding in plain sight. And I only needed to pull it off for a couple minutes.
I started grabbing at whatever spare uniform pieces- such as they were- were available. “All right. What about you?”
“They’re looking for you, not me,” she said. “I don’t need to be disguised. But we need to get you dressed fast. Can we quit talking about it and get it done?”
I actually laughed. She was so nervous that she was almost speaking normally. It was cute.
I quickly stripped and, under Blondie’s direction, put on the uniform, such as it was. The first problem came when I slid the stupid elastic tubetop into place. It was obviously meant for a much shorter girl. Even with it being elastic and stretchy, I still had trouble sliding it over my modest boobs.
“Fuck,” I said. “Do they only hire anorexic midgets here? I can barely breathe.”
“Pub bunnies are usually, umm, more endowed up there, you know? That’s probably why that one is sitting in a closet and not being used.”
I rolled my eyes, but didn’t have time to voice my opinion. I grabbed the skirt and started stepping into it.
She grabbed my wrist. “Nuh-uh. No panties.”
I looked at her. “What?”
She pointed at my dark blue underwear and shook her head. “No panties. No bunny working at a pub would be wearing underwear. Well, maybe a thong, but nothing like what you’ve got on. Your panty lines stand out a mile.”
I pulled the skirt into place, then swore lividly as I pulled down my panties and stepped out of them. How the hell the girls were able to concentrate on anything dressed like this? I felt positively naked.
Then Blondie realized I had a problem. I didn’t have a collar and there were none in the room I could see. That seemed like the kind of thing that would stand out in this stupid city.
Fortunately I had worn a leather belt with my jeans. I wasn’t happy about having to cut up my belt, but after a few decorative slices, it was a passable collar. Well, mostly passable. It didn’t have “Sir Gregory’s Pub” studded on it, but if anybody saw me, I would just keep my chin down. Ditzy as she was, Blondie was right. Nobody noticed the waitresses in the background, and a small detail like that would hopefully escape notice.
Blondie gathered my clothes under one arm. “Just stay out of sight for a little while, ‘kay? Then we’ll get you to my car and, like, get you out of here.”
I held up a hand. “Hold on, bimbo. Where do you think you’re going with my clothes?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Ummmm…if you get noticed and you run out the door, are you, like, gonna run through the streets dressed like that? If I have your clothes, I can give them to you when you leave.”
She had a point, but I wasn’t happy about having to count on a bimbo so heavily. “Fine,” I said grudgingly. “Just don’t go far, all right? I don’t plan on staying dressed like this for long.”
She nodded, blonde locks flying everywhere. “I got it, yeppers. I’ll hang out in the alley and, like, let you know when the coast is clear, ‘kay? Now I’m getting out of here. I’m totally trespassing right now.”
I laughed, but Blondie didn’t hear. She was already rushing back into the alley.
*****
Everything was quiet again. I exhaled and made myself relax. I just needed to kill an hour or two. That would likely be long enough for the heat to die down to a point where I could slip over to Blondie’s car and get the hell out of this crazy city.
I could hear movement down the hall in the kitchen, so I made sure to stay out of line-of-sight. Unless there was a shift change or something, there was even a chance nobody would notice me in here.
The prospect cheered me. I was at most two hours away from slipping out of Slate City with the blueprints back in my possession. I admittedly felt bad for Cosmo for doing him bad twice, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
After a little while, I started getting fidgety. I felt ridiculous in this fucking uniform and I wanted to get dressed and get the hell out. Surely the heat had died down outside. I decided to risk a glance outside the room.
A peek outside the door revealed no one, so I stepped into the hall and padded toward the kitchen on quiet bare feet. Suddenly I stopped.
Standing in the kitchen, talking to what appeared to be a manager, were two police officers. The manager was pointing in my general direction. As if on cue, both officers turned and looked right at me.
So much for subtly. I spun and dashed for the door to the alley. Good thing Blondie had been foresighted enough to take my clothes, because I wouldn’t have had a chance to grab them. Hopefully she had the car parked in the alley and ready to go, though, because it was going to be close. I hit the door running and burst into the alley.
Right into the arms of two waiting police officers.
I bounced off the startled officers and, after a moment’s recovery, turned and dashed in the opposite direction. One of them shouted, “Halt!”
I ignored the command. A moment later I heard a strange pffffft sound and felt something sharp sting my barely-covered bottom.
I ignored the stinging in my backside and kept running, but then gasped as a crazy wave of intense heat swept through my body. I lost all strength in my knees as dropped to the alley floor, eyes wide, cheeks flushing. I was lubricating uncontrollably, my belly muscles twitching and jumping beyond my ability to control them. My nipples stiffened into hard, sensitive nubs and my hand slapped down between my legs, my fingers slipping effortlessly into my wet, sopping pussy.
I fell onto my back, heedless of the police, heedless of anything except for desperately trying to get myself off. I couldn’t stop. My fingers pistoned back and forth inside my gushing pussy, but nothing I did allowed me any relief. I’d never been this aroused, this fucking hot, in my life. Not ever. I was moaning in need, my legs splayed out as I tried to satisfy my out-of-control heat.
As I writhed in helpless need on the floor of the alley, I heard the other officers exit the pub. Shoes crunched on the concrete and then a moment later several figures were standing around my prone, furiously masturbating body.
A heavy hand reached down and lifted my chin, exposing my ‘collar’. Then I was rolled to my right side, my left shoulder lifted off the concrete, even as I continued furiously jilling myself, my fingers helplessly working and pinching my clit. Then the hand released me and through the haze of heat and need, I could hear them talking to each other, although it sounded far away, dreamlike.
“She’s no pub bunny, sir. Looks like that anonymous caller was right. She was hiding in the back of the pub.”
“No problems catching her, I take it?”
“None, sir. She caught us by surprise busting out the door like that, but we just popped her with some heat and that dropped her.”
“All right. Put her in the car and take her to the station.”
“Yessir.”
Strong hands lifted me to my feet. My hands were pulled away from my pussy and I shrieked, furiously trying to free my arms so I could get back to getting myself off. My wrists were secured behind my back with leather cuffs. Then a leather sleeve was pulled over my bound hands up to my elbows and then apparently belted, with my elbows nearly touching.
I was screaming, calling them names, anything I could think of. One of the officers behind me suddenly pressed a red rubber ball gag into my mouth and secured the strap behind my head.
I wanted to hit them, kick them, beg them, whatever it took to let me quench the overwhelming heat. I would have let one of them fuck me if it would put out the heat. But they showed no interest in my overheated body other than to bind my ankles with some sort of spacer bar and carry me like a safari captive to the back of a waiting police car.
And just like that, I became a guest of the Slate City justice system.
NEXT: Part 2- Eliza goes to court.