[Reader: If you are sexually active, please use healthy precautions and be regular about check-ups. And, for sure, don't engage in risky activities like this story's characters do.]
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I found myself between jobs. It was a cold night, and I was on the highway going north to a construction site where I thought I would find a job. After finishing a Master’s degree in math, I had decided not to go into the technical field right away. During graduate school, I had gotten a part time gig doing demos of weight lifting and workout equipment for a company that produced a line of those products. It had paid well, so I stayed at it and picked up construction gigs in the off season for the demo job so as to keep myself in shape.
I’m 5’11”, 200 lbs., medium length dark hair, brown eyes, and I keep myself in top physical shape, mostly via lifting and regular exercising – and the construction work.
I was getting sleepy at the wheel, and I saw an exit for a small size town just off of the interstate. I figured it would be a good time to try to find a place open late to get a bite to eat, something to drink, and then check in at a hotel for the night.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse, the wind was picking up, and there were a few snowflakes in the air. I went down the main street and while most everything was closed, I spotted on neon sign in a window of a place that said “Open”. I found a parking place along the curb, got out and went in.
The sign above the door said “Club Voodoo”. The door opened into an entry way with a muscular bouncer seated behind a raised bar-like table in a small heated area. There was another door behind him leading into the serving area. He had a baseball cap on what appeared to be a shaved head. There was a large septum ring hanging down to near his upper lip, and he had large ear tunnels in each ear lobe. They had a heavy steel ring through each. The guy definitely looked like someone you wouldn’t want to have get angry with you.
I thought to myself that it was an “interesting” look, but certainly not one I’d ever want to try.
I asked, “Does the club serve food? I’m really hungry.”
He answered, “Yea, it does. Some packaged stuff. Specializes in drinks, though. Also, it’s a private club. Ya gotta be a member. Don’t recall ever seein’ ya here.”
I said, “You’re right. I’m traveling. Is there anywhere else close where I can get something to eat? I’m gonna check in at the hotel I saw up the street.”
“Hmm. Travelin’. Maybe Boss will let ya in as a guest. I’ll call him”.
The bouncer picked up a mobile phone and punched in a number. When his boss answered, he told him about me. I heard him tell his boss, “Yea. Just one person.” Then, “Yea, he is”.
After a second, the bouncer ended the call and looked at me, smiled, and said, “Boss said you kin come in. Cover charge, though. Includes first drink. $10.”
I hadn’t planned on paying to get into a place to eat, but it was late and cold, I was hungry, and I was there. So, I said, “O.K.”, and fished out a ten dollar bill. He said, “Let me stamp the back of your hand to show you’ve paid.” I put out my hand, and he took a rubber stamp, placed it on the ink pad, and then he stamped my hand.
He hit a buzzer and the door behind him clicked open. I stepped inside, the door closing on its spring behind me.
I looked around and was immediately taken aback. The room was large, some tables to the center and back a way. On the left a long bar with stools along it. To my right, closer to the front, some lounge chairs. Nearly all the patrons – and there were a lot of ‘em – were at the bar with several more strung out in booths along the wall opposite the bar and farther back in the room.
But these things weren’t what took me aback. It was that not only were all the customers men, but most of them had their flies open and their equipment hanging out! A few wore only leather vests and boots – and leather thongs, some with chaps, instead of pants. The guy tending bar looked a lot like the bouncer. Same shaved head, ear tunnels, nose ring. I saw a couple of men in what looked like neck to ankle rubber suits, too. One of them was kneeling in front of one of the open-flied drinkers at the bar.
Realizing that I’d stepped into an extreme gay bar, I thought, “I’m outta here.” I’d been in gay bars before with friends who were gay, but nothing like this one. I turned and took the doorknob in my hand, but instead of turning and freeing the door, it just kept going round and round loosely in my grip. I knocked on the door so the bouncer would hear and said through the closed door, “Open up. I’m leavin’.”
Nothing happened, so I knocked again, louder, and said the same thing, also louder.
Then, a voice from over my shoulder said, “You want to leave so soon?”
I turned and saw a black man, about my height, probably mid-30s. He was medium build. He wore only a leather vest and leather pants – with his fly open and his junk hanging out, which I could not but notice was formidable. I also noticed right away his unusual green eyes. His hair was black and medium length wavy.
I told him, “Yea, I didn’t realize how extreme this bar is. I’m okay with gays, but this is a bit much for me. So, I’ll just be on my way.”
He said, “Well, you paid a cover charge. At least stay long enough to collect the drink it includes. What do you say?”
“No, I’ll be goin’.”
“Please do stay. I’m Phillipe. I own the club.” I noticed an accent, French I thought. “It is cold outside, and we have got both hot and cold drinks.”
“Do you have any food? I actually was looking for someplace open because I was more hungry than thirsty.”
“We have pre-packaged sandwiches, chips . . . items like that, but no food preparation on site. We can heat them in the microwave. Would that do?”
I thought for a second. No other place had seemed open along the street I had driven into town. “O.K.” I told him. “I’ll stay and have one of those sandwiches and coffee – if you’ve got it.”
“We do have it. How about Irish Coffee?”
“Yea – that’d be fine.”
He motioned me toward the lounge chairs I’d noticed to my right when I came into the club. As we walked toward them, he motioned to a guy standing and talking at the bar to come over. His appearance was like the guy tending bar and the bouncer. He told him to have a sandwich, chips, and an Irish Coffee brought over to his “guest”.
“Please, sit down. It is warm in here – for obvious reasons – so you might feel pretty hot with that coat you are wearing.”
I took off my navy peacoat and laid it on one end of the coffee table in front of our lounge chairs.
Phillipe asked, “So, from how far away are you?”
“I’m not from anywhere just now. I’m on my way north to pick up a temp gig on a construction job.”
“You are a fulltime construction worker?”
“No. After college I stayed with a parttime job doing demos for a sports and weight lifting equipment company. Between times, I take the construction jobs to keep in shape.”
“Oh, so you were in college. Did you graduate?”
“Yep. I did. Ended up with a Master’s in math.”
“A Master’s in mathematics! That is impressive. So, how come you are in sales and construction?”
“I just wasn’t ready to jump into a career right away. Been two years doin’ this. Soon I’ll probably quit it for a tech career. Something related to my degree.”
“I gather you are single then?”
“You gather right. Girlfriends now and then. But, like I said, I travel and don’t have a home base. So nothing steady.”
“You are a free man, then.”
“Yea. I am. Someday. Not yet. Too early to settle down.”
“Big family?”
“No. None at all. I was an only child. My parents are dead. They were only-children, too – so got no cousins.
I asked Phillipe, “Where are you from? Do I hear a little French accent?”
“You do! I am from Haiti. I have been in the States for about ten years.”
“Midwest U.S. weather’s not quite like Haiti. Why’d you stay here of all places?”
“Well, I had some relatives who lived in St. Louis. I knew I wanted to open a club. Because of the sort of club I wanted, it had to be near a big city. So, I opened here. It is close enough to the city to provide a good clientele once they hear about it being available . . . but far enough away for the privacy they want. Many of them would not wish to run into any of their daytime associates.”
“Gottcha.”
Phillipe said, “We have been talking a bit, and you know my name. What is yours?”
“It’s Charles. Charles Johnston. You were right about the heat in here. Think I’ll get rid of this sweater, too.” I took it off and put it on top of my coat.
The Irish Coffee came, delivered by a really kinky dude. He had the shaved head, nose ring, and tunneled ears like the other guys working there, but he was one of the guys dressed in the neck to ankles full shiny black rubber suit. I looked to see if, like all the others I’d seen, his equipment was hanging out. It not only wasn’t – but he didn’t even have a bulge in his crotch. It looked smooth, like a woman’s.
The sandwich had been heated. Wasn’t bad. The coffee warmed me up both from its heat and from its alcohol content.
“Umm. This is good and hot,” I told Phillipe as I sipped the drink.
We talked some more as I finished eating and drained the last of the Irish Coffee. He said, “Would you like to have a sample of a special Haitian drink I serve here? It’s not hot – but it’s got a good bit of alcohol in it to warm you up.”
“Hmm. I dunno. Better not.”
“You’d be missing something really special from my homeland. It will be on the house. You would not wish to reject my hospitality, would you?”
“O.K. O.K. You’ve shamed me into it. I’m game for the Haitian drink.”
He looked toward the bar, motioned to the guy who’d taken the order the first time. Nodding in my direction, Phillipe said, “Tony – Have Jimmy make a Haitian Special for Charles.”
Tony said, “Yes, Boss,” and turned to the bartender.
As we waited, Phillipe played a bit with his exposed cock. His green eyes were staring into mine. He saw me noticing and said, “I hope you do not mind. We are very relaxed here.”
“Well, I gotta say it’s ‘different’ for me, all right. Not quite my thing. But, whatever – it’s your place.”
“You might enjoy freeing yourself up and doing the same.”
“Nope. Not me. Not in public.”
My Haitian Special arrived. It was blue! “That’s different”, I said.
“Yes. It has got Caribbean fruit and four types of liquor in it. I will be interested in what you think of it.”
I took a swallow. It was sweet – kinda like a Long Island Ice Tea. “Umm. It’s sweet, not at all bitter like some alcohol drinks. It’s smooth. Yea, I like it.”
“I am glad to hear that. Drink it slowly after your hot Irish Coffee. You do not want too much of something cold taken too fast!”
“Right”, I said.
Phillipe told me, “In the part of Haiti where I come from we had a good deal of voodoo. That is where I got the idea for the name of the club.”
I realized again that those green eyes were staring into mine, not even blinking.
I asked him, “What is Haiti like?”
He told me, “Growing up I had beaches everywhere and warm weather all the time.”
I was feeling warmer with the extra alcohol and the heat. “How hot DO you keep it in here? I’m beginning to sweat.”
He said, “Eighty-five degrees. All the year round.”
“Whew. I’m really warm.”
“You do not want to get sweaty and then go out into the cold. Take off that shirt.” He laughed and added, “It will make you fit in all the better with the members!”
“Yea. You’re right. Why not.” I took off my shirt.
“You would like to take off the tee-shirt, too, no?”
“Why not?” I said – and I did.
After obviously noting my chest and pecs, he again established the stare into my eyes. I felt uncomfortable.
“Yes. You do fit in better now.” Then he added, “You have a fine build.”
“I kept up with my lifting. Working for the sports company I had to. That’s why I do the construction work, too.”
“It shows. Look around. You outdo most everyone in the room . . . and they have noticed.”
I looked over my shoulder toward the bar. Yep, they were noticing . . . as they fondled their dicks. Made me feel weird, being ogled like that by men while they played with themselves and each other.
Once I’d finished the Haitian drink, I said to Philllipe, “Think I’d better start down the street to that hotel.”
I got up, but the alcohol had clearly gone to my head. I felt dizzy and almost fell back into the lounge chair.
“Wow! I didn’t realize how much that alcohol was buzzin’ me,” I said.
“Just sit back and give it some more time. Maybe you would like more to eat? I will not suggest more to drink!”
“No – no more alcohol right now, that’s for sure. Yea – something to eat.”
He was staring again with those unblinking green eyes. This time it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, though.
I don’t recall anybody bringing them, but next I remember, I was eating snacks and sitting in the chair really sweating.
Phillipe asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Hot ‘n’ sweaty,” I answered.
“You feel relaxed, too. Right?”
“Yea. I do. Real relaxed,” I said, my eyes going back to Phillipe’s hand stroking his cock.
“My Haitian Special can do that. You feel like you want to watch me masturbate, no?”
“What? Watch you masturbate?”
“Yes. I’ve been watching your eyes on my hands as I fondle my cock.”
“Have I been watching?”
“Yes, you have. A lot. Look. It’s even making your own cock hard.”
I looked at my crotch, and the bulge there said that he was right. I was hard. Really hard. There was even a wet spot showing through. “I didn’t realize. Apologize.”
“Oh no – do not apologize. I like to be watched. Even helped. Why do you not let your cock and balls loose, like mine, like the members of the club. You would like that, no?”
Those eyes again.
“Nah, nah . . . would feel weird . . . not me . . . but it feels so tight – like it’s trapped . . . may . . . maybe . . . yea . . . it’d feel good to let my junk loose.” Don’t know what came over me, but I did it.
“Good boy, Charles,” Phillipe told me. “Now you are fitting in. You like feeling that you belong, no?”
“Yea. Yea, I guess.”
“Go ahead and do as I am, Charles. Play with it. I am sure you masturbate on your own. Am I right?”
“Yea, I masturbate . . . but not in public.”
“Well, here you are just one of many doing it. I think you would like it if I helped you. No?”
“I . . . I . . . I dunno ‘bout that!” I told him. “No man’s ever touched my cock. Least ways no man outside of my Doc.”
“It is O.K.. You will enjoy it. You would like to enjoy me stroking your cock, no?”
“I . . . I . . . nah . . . I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Charles. Think how good it might feel. You have had women do it, no?”
“Yea – right. I’ve had women do it.”
“Well, why not give me a chance to show you how much better I can do it. After all, I know how it feels and how to make you really feel it.”
Those eyes!
“May . . . maybe . . . you really think you could do it better?”
“I know I can, Charles.”
“Well . . . it would be a trip if you could do it better than they did.”
“Charles, I can masturbate your cock better than you can!”
“No way! No way could you bate me better than I do myself.”
“You are curious, though, no? You would like to find out. So, tell me you want me to masturbate you, Charles.”
I was not feeling quite myself – all that liquor. Don’t know how long I thought, but finally I said to Phillipe, “O.K. Yea. Do my cock. Give me a hand job. I wanna see if you’re better at it than me on my own cock.”
And he did. And it was great. He was right. He did it better than I or any woman ever had. After I told him that, he said to me, “Now, Charles. You want to masturbate my dick, no? You want to repay the favor.”
I was feeling really loose now. I was fuzzy inside my head. I knew what was happening, but I was just going with the flow. I told him, “Sure. Why not. Like you say, I owe you.”
Then, I masturbated him. I took his long ebony black shaft in my fist and ran my hand up and down its length. I squeezed its mushroom knob at the end of my strokes just like I do mine when I bate. He moaned his approval and his pelvis moved with my rhythm. After a while, he told me to stop.
He said, “Umm, you did that very well, Charles.”
You would like to take my strong black cock in your mouth, no, Charles?”
“Wha – what!? In my mouth? Your cock? Ah, ah . . . . Nah . . . no, I wouldn’t wanna go that far.”
“Yes – you are curious what that would be like, how it would feel, no?”
“Curious – ahh – ah – curious. May . . . maybe – curious – yea, curious. Really? You really want me to do that??”
“Yes, Charles. I do want you to. Kneel down.”
I don’t know why I did it, but I slid outta my lounge chair and knelt down and took that stiff, black pole into my mouth. I’d never had a cock in my mouth before. It was thick. I could feel the veins with my tongue. He was coaching me, telling me to lick his shaft up and down, telling me to close my lips around his glans and suck like it was a straw in a thick milkshake.
He told me, “Yes, Charles. You are doing just fine. Now move up and down on my cock while you suck. Play with my glans with your tongue at the end of your upward suck”.
I kept going. I don’t know how long. Then, he came in my mouth. His cum was dribbling from my mouth along with my drooling. My mouth tasted salty.
I don’t exactly remember what happened after that. I know we were there for a while longer, just don’t know how long. I vaguely remember him saying something about how I was not in any shape to go looking for that hotel room down the street and how he had a room I could use in the basement of the club.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
I am waking up. I feel kinda weird. I don’t even want to open my eyes. I’m stiff. My nose hurts. I feel like I was in a fight or something. What the hell happened? Where am I? I gotta get up. I move to turn and get off the hard cot I seem to be lying on. Then I get really scared. I can’t do it. My arm is stretched out and being held by something . . . like, maybe a handcuff. I go to move my other one. Same deal. What the hell!
I open my eyes. The light in the room is dim. I look at each of my arms. They are stretched out on angles above my head, and – yes – they are in cuffs secured to some kind of board.
I shout out, “Hey. Someone get me outta here! What the fuck is goin’ on?” I hear nothing. I call out again, louder. I think I hear something. Maybe someone’s heard me. I call out a third time, “Someone get me the hell outta here!”
The door opens. A guy walks in. He’s naked. He’s bald and has a ring through his nose. His ears have big tunnels. Wait. I remember something. Last night. He’s the one who the black guy told to tell the bartender I needed something to drink and eat.
“Hey, Man,” he said. “Glad to see you’re awake. I was wonderin’ how long it was gonna take ya to sleep it off.”
“Where the hell am I? Who are you? Get me loose, Dude!”
“Sorry, no can do unless Boss tells me to.”
“The ‘Boss’? Whaddya mean? Get me off this fuckin’ thing. What is it, anyway?”
“It’s a St. Andrew’s Cross. It’s just not hoisted upright just now. Boss had us strap you on it when we carried ya downstairs after you passed out last night.”
“You mean I’m still at that club?”
“Yup. That’s what I mean. Think you’re gonna be here a long time.”
“What the fuck?! No way. I’m outta here.”
Only then did I look down over my chest and realize I was naked. It was really warm in the room. I hadn’t even noticed till then.
“Why the hell am I naked? Get me my clothes. Get me off of this thing.”
“Like I said. Can’t do that. Lemme get Boss.”
He disappears. It’s not too long now, and I hear voices. The door opens again, and the dude’s back. With him is the man I’m remembering told me he owns the club. What’d he tell me his name was? Oh yea – Phillipe.
“Good morning, Charlie. I hope you’re not too hung over or too sore.”
“Not ‘Charlie’, Dude. I’m Charles. Charles Johnston.”
“I am afraid not. Not anymore. You are Charlie. I give all my boys names. Just like Tony here. I gave him that name. You remember him from last night, no?”
“Shit, Dude . . . or whatever – Phillipe! Get me loose and give me my clothes. I’m leavin’.”
“No. I do not think you are. Besides, your clothes are gone. You do not need them here. I keep it very warm – like my homeland. As I told you last night, always at least 85 degrees.”
“What the fu…. What! They’re gone?! My clothes are gone? Gone where?”
“Tony, tell Charlie where his clothes are . . . and his suitcase and his car, too.”
“O.K., Boss”, Tony says. Then, to me, “Your clothes were incinerated after we cut them off ya last night.”
“I don’t fuckin’ believe this! You cut my clothes off of me and burned them? What the hell for?”
“Cuz you won’t be needin’ ‘em. You’re gonna be stayin’ here to work at Boss’ club.”
“Like hell I am.” I’m gonna put the cops on you, Phillipe, so fast it’ll make your head spin. I don’t know what shit you’re into, but I’m not interested. Cut me loose . . . NOW.”
Phillipe says, “Charlie, calm yourself. You will be fine. You will even get to like it here. You just need some time.”
“Nope. I won’t. And, I don’t. And, what’d you mean about my suitcase and car?”
“Ah, yes. Those items. I sent the boys out to find your car with your keys. You told me it was parked on the street. They drove it to the back of the club. We took your suitcase, and along with the clothes you had on, we incinerated all of its contents, too. We took your driver’s license and your credit cards. They went into the fire, as well. Oh, and your cell phone – the SIM card just shriveled up in the flames.”
“I’m not hearin’ this right. This can’t be. Why? Why would you do this to me?”
“I saw you last night, Charlie, and I thought what a fine addition you would make to Club Voodoo. You told me how you have no one expecting you, no family, no one to report to. I knew I could convince you to work for me here.”
“’Convince’! Is that what you call this? You’ve kidnapped me. That’s a crime. A big one. You’re gonna pay!”
“No. I am not, Charlie.”
“Cut out the ‘Charlie’ shit. I’m Charles, Charles Johnston.”
“Charles Johnston does not exist anymore. He has been erased. No one is going to come looking for him, either. You explained to me how you are without any attachments. Remember?”
I’m thinking about it. He’s right. There’s not anyone expecting me or who will come looking for me. I’ve got no involvements, no family. It’s all on hold till I get into a technical job. And, I told him all of that.
Damn. I’m remembering something else . . . more about last night. Ahh shit! I’m remembering kneeling in front of that lounge chair he was sitting in. I . . . I . . . no . . . can’t be I’m remembering right . . . I . . . I . . . I SUCKED HIS DICK! Nooo!
Phillipe is saying, “By the way, we have also taken care of your car. I have called for the scrap metal yard to pick it up. They will crush it with no questions asked. The owner of the yard owes me a favor.”
I’m realizing how scared I’m feeling. This is bad, really, really bad. I’m trapped. No exit that I can see. Maybe if I play along I’ll be able to find a way out. Sure as hell not going to get out as long as I’m strapped down to this whatever kind of cross Tony said it was.
“You are quiet, Charlie,” Phillipe says.
“I’m trapped,” I say.
“Indeed, you could say that, Boy. But, you will come to value being with your brothers. The sooner you realize you are now one of my family here at the club, the sooner you will start to grow happy to be here.”
‘Boy'? No one’s called me that since I was 10 yrs. old.
“It is time that you saw yourself in a mirror, Charlie. Tony, pull the cross upright and bring over the tall mirror.”
Tony has moved to a rope. It’s on a pully and the cross is moving upwards. Now it’s straight with its two feet on the floor. My feet are spread out to complete the X made with my arms outstretched. There was a plate or a board of some kind underneath my head and now it’s behind my head.
Tony is bringing the mirror over. It’s draped. He adjusts it on a slant so it’ll reflect me. Now Phillipe is stepping over.
“Please pardon the dramatic touch, Charlie. I want to see you when you react to what you look like now.”
What the hell does he mean about how I look now?
Phillipe is pulling the drape off of the mirror . . . and I see myself.
“Nooo! No! Why? You can’t do this to me, you fucker!”
“Oh yes – I thought you would be surprised. I am glad to see that you ‘appreciate’ that ‘Charles What-Was-His-Name?’ is no more.”
I see myself in the mirror, but it’s not me . . . not a ‘me’ that I know. My head is shaved. There’s a ring hanging outta my nose. My ears have small tunnel things in each lobe. There’s a thin metal collar around my neck. It’s so light I hadn’t even felt it. And, all the hair on my body from my neck down is gone, pubic hair and all. My cock and balls look huge without any bush.
“Charlie, you must admit that your new look is a tough one. Some would say it is sexy, no? What do you think? Does Charlie look sexy?”
“Nooo . . . Nooo . . . you can’t do this to me.”
“Oh, but I can, Boy . . . and I have. You will grow to like it, the new look. It is not the end of changes you will see. It is only a taste of what I have in store for you.
“We are going to leave you here for a few minutes so you can get to know Charlie. Do not worry, we will return. Tony, give him a drink of water and then return to the second floor with the rest of the boys.”
They’ve left. Tony gave me water through a straw before he went. I was thirsty, all right. Now, I’m alone, still strung up on this X-thing and lookin’ at what Phillipe’s done to me.
I was thinking earlier about being trapped. Now, it’s worse. I’m not just trapped in this place. I’m trapped in a different body. I don’t look like me. I look like that bouncer last night and Tony and the bartender. What the hell!
I’m looking at my body. I’ve never shaved my body or “manscaped”. Certainly never shaved my pubes. My muscles stand out way more like this. Sexy? No way. Not with my head shaved and a ring in my nose and my ears with holes in ‘em. Geeze!
Wha. . . What? My cock’s gettin’ hard! No. No, I can’t let this happen. I can’t be gettin’ hard at seein’ myself like this. Not possible. I’m completely straight. I don’t get off on seein’ myself looking like something out of a male porn vid. I can’t stop it. It’s past semi. My cock’s gonna go full out. My body’s being a traitor.
Someone’s opening the door – Oh no – not now – not with me getting a full hardon.
“Charlie!” It’s Phillipe. “I see you DO think you look sexy. Your inner self knows it. Look at that fine dick. I noticed last night as you masturbated how thick and long and straight it is. The club members will definitely welcome you to the staff!”
“I ain’t gonna be part of any staff at your fuckin’ club, Phillipe. You can trap me here, but not that. You can’t make me one of your ‘boys’, as you call them.”
“But they ARE my Boys. They’re diFilippo brothers. Didn’t you notice the tattoo above Tony’s cock?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about. I didn’t notice anything about Tony other than how ugly his shaved head, his nose ring, and his dumb stretched ears look. Same for the bouncer guy and the bartender. Damn! Now I look like they do. Trapped in a body that’s not me.
“Charlie, you will be marked, too, like Tony and the other boys. I do not want you to feel left out!
“I do not want to keep you strapped up any longer.”
Phillipe is calling Tony.
“Yes Boss?”
“Lower the cross. Then, unstrap Charlie.
“Charlie, when you are loosed from the St. Andrew Cross, you will go with Tony up to the floor above the club where my boys live. He’ll show you where the food is, where you sleep, where you exercise, where you shower. Remember, you cannot get out of here. It is locked and secure. Even if you could, you’re naked and it is very cold outside. That steel collar locked around your neck is a shocker. If you get too close to the exit doors or the windows you will know, I assure you.”
Phillipe is leaving and Tony is lettin’ me loose.
I’m so stiff my body’s not working quite right.
Tony’s saying, “Just stay like that a minute. Don’t try to get up yet.”
I flex my arms and swing them around some to get them loosened up. I straighten and bend my legs and ankles.
Tony seems genuinely to want to be of help. He asks, “Are ya gonna be able to stand up O.K.? I can help if ya want.”
“We’ll see,” I tell him. “Here goes.”
I’m up, but I’m a little unsteady.
“Yea – I’m good now,” I tell him.
“O.K. Boss said to take you upstairs. Let’s go.”
To Be Continued
