A Matter OF Trust

April 2003, Austin, Texas

SWEAT BEADED UP on the pretty woman’s face and neck as she drove towards downtown Austin. It was hot for early April in Texas and as usual, the air conditioning in her 1990 Ford Fiesta decided to abruptly quit. She tried her well-tested method of automobile repair by slapping hard at the dashboard just above the air conditioner’s control panel, but this had only succeeded in making the broken unit emit a shrill metallic whine. Balling up her fist, another hard shot momentarily quieted the machine, but in a final determination not to be outdone by a one hundred fifteen pound female, it switched over to the heater. In a final ‘screw you’ gesture, hot air now blew out of the vents.

With a well-practiced sigh, she shut off the air conditioner. Reaching down to the side of the driver’s side door, she rolled down the car’s window to let in some relatively cooler air. Over the cheap FM radio, Red Dirt Road by Brooks and Dunn played.

Thank God the radio still works, she thought sullenly as she stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. Even if it’s all shit kickin’ music here in Texas.

Glancing at herself in the rearview mirror, she ran her fingers through her long black hair, which was now blowing wildly around the car’s interior. From what was left of the rapidly fading sunlight, she could see the perspiration glistening at the base of her neck. Feeling sticky, she pulled at her cotton tee shirt that was clinging uncomfortably to her damp skin.

Gotta remember to bring a change of clothes when I go on these jobs, she reminded herself once again.

All in all, things were going well for Barbara Simmons. A junior majoring in computer science at the University of Texas, she had managed to finish her latest class project early, leaving her some much well deserved party time with her friends.

A long way from home, she had been attending college for the last three years on a cheerleading scholarship. At her hometown high school in Danbury, Connecticut, she had been a good student, having done well in her science and math classes. However, like most girls her age, she hid her abilities for fear of being called a nerd or, even worse, a geek. Although gifted, obtaining just average grades hurt any chances she may have had to obtain an academic scholarship.

She managed to conceal her intellect by being a star cheerleader. Along with the other pretty ‘in-crowd’ girls, she gyrated and whirled for the Danbury Badgers at all of the school’s football and basketball games. Endowed with natural athletic abilities, she excelled at rooting on the hometown crowds, becoming the squad leader in only her sophomore year.

One day after a Badgers’ home football game, her cheer coach asked to see her. Not knowing what to think, Barbara quickly showered and changed into her street clothes. Entering her coach’s office, she was introduced to a smartly dressed woman. With a wide smile on her pretty face, the woman said that she worked for the University of Texas and was on a countrywide recruiting tour, looking for only the best and brightest cheerleaders for the upcoming school year. To Barbara’s astonishment, she explained that her name had popped up several time on her radar. Would she be interested in talking about it?

Rapidly shaking her head yes led to a home visit with Barbara’s parents. The recruiter brought along many shiny brochures for them all to glance through as she spoke glowingly of the university’s long and glorious traditions. After fifteen minutes of massive ego inflation, she extended them the opportunity to visit the campus.

All expenses paid, of course.

Completely surprised by the generous offer, they readily agreed.

Barbara and her parents scheduled a weekend to fly down to Austin and were put up in a four star hotel with all the trimmings. Picked up by a driver, they were whisked to the campus and given the royal treatment. Taken on a private tour through the many different buildings and long walks on the four hundred acre campus, their heads were filled with promises of a unique undergraduate experience for Barbara if only she would come cheer for the Texas Longhorns.

To everyone’s surprise, at the end of the tour in the recruiter’s office, she was formally offered a cheerleading scholarship paying full tuition.

Who knew that you could go to college just for shaking your pompoms and wiggling your ass? Barbara thought once again as she and her parents signed the many legal papers. With that decision made and put behind her, Barbara was now a Longhorn. Hook ‘em Horns! she shouted to family and friends when they returned home to Connecticut.

Becoming somewhat of a local celebrity, Barbara left home that fall and travelled south to start college. A pretty girl, she made friends easily, but quickly experienced major culture shock. The humid climate in Texas was much different from the harsh Connecticut winters where she had grown up. It also took her a while to get the hang of the unique Texas drawl that some of the locals used. Adding Howdy Y’all! and Over Yonder into her vocabulary facilitated her transition into southern college life.

The vast majority of the girls on Barbara’s cheerleading squad were either business, communication or philosophy majors but this time, shunning the nerd connotation, she declared herself to be a computer science student. Despite some not so gentle teasing from the other girls, she quickly proved herself in both the academic and cheerleading world by doing what came naturally to her. She was determined to take this opportunity to study what she truly wanted, and damn the harassment she might receive from her friends.

However, even though she was riding through school on a full scholarship, Barbara still needed financial assistance. Going the normal route of taking out massive financial loans, she found herself needing cash for important college life items, such as booze, drugs and clothes. This need led to a series of part time jobs squeezed in between classes, cheer practice and partying. For fifteen hours a week, she traded in her pompoms for an incredibly short skirt and a skintight blouse to serve drinks at the local watering hole to fellow inebriated Longhorns. Through it all, she flashed her best cheerleader smile as she suffered through the lame pickup lines and grabby hands from drunks who tried their best to gain her attention, all for a meager dollar tip at the end of the night.

One day late in her sophomore year, she was chatting with Bunny, a fellow cheerleader who was born and bred in Texas when the subject of money came up. To her surprise, the ditzy bleach blonde informed Barbara of a way to make some extra cash.

I could put you in touch with some people who are looking for models, Bunny said as they walked off the field after practice. They’re always looking for pretty girls.

Models? Like for an advertisement agency?

It’s more like these people hook you up with private photographers, she said. They’re the middlemen in all this. Bunny also neglected to tell Barbara that she would receive a hefty finder’s fee for her recruiting efforts.

What kind of modeling would I have to do? she asked, her interest piqued.

Mostly lingerie shots, she said. Sometimes nudes, but those kinds of photos pay a lot more.

No way! she exclaimed. I don’t think I could ever do that!

A lot of the girls on the squad do it, Babs.

Really? But nude photos? That’s icky!

That’s what I thought at first, Bunny said as the girls approached the locker room. But it gets easier the more you do it. And it pays so well.

With an outburst of clarity that Barbara never would have thought Bunny possessed, she continued. What’s the difference between posing for a few candid photos for some horny guys or shaking your ass for eighty thousand people in a short skirt on the football field every Saturday?

This was the way that Barbara was introduced to the seedy world of private modeling. After Bunny made a quick phone call, she met with the middlemen and was given an assignment that very weekend.

Her first job was easy. Directed to a home in the Austin suburbs, she and another girl modeled for a man who took photographs of them. Dressed in skimpy bikinis, they posed in the man’s den as he orchestrated them as to how they should stand.

Easy enough, Barbara thought as she draped herself over the back of a couch, her butt high in the air. And when the man forked over an extra fifty up front for each of them to drop their tops, she readily agreed.

It would take a whole bunch of weekends to earn fifty dollars in tips at the White Horse Cellar, she thought to herself as they drove home from the assignment. With her first paid professional modeling gig underneath her belt, Barbara quit her waitressing job the very next day.

And now, driving south on Interstate 35, fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limit in the far left lane, Barbara was on her way to another photo shoot, this time by herself at a local downtown motel.

Familiar with the area, she had visited this seedy part of town a few times before, mostly to score some amphetamines for her and her friends. The powerful stimulants had allowed them to stay awake for long periods of times to study for final exams, but left them wasted, jittery and totally wiped out afterwards.

Just another crappy thing I gotta do for the sake of getting a degree…she thought to herself once again. Momentarily, she closed her eyes and repeated her personal mantra silently to herself.

Eye on the prize, baby! Eye on the prize!

In a moment, she saw her exit coming up. Only a short distance from her destination, Barbara lit up yet another cigarette as she cut across four lanes of traffic, pulled off the interstate and headed down the exit ramp.

The address she had been given over the telephone was one of the sleazier places that lined downtown Austin. She recognized it in the distance, having had a modeling job there once before. The harsh glare from the motel’s blinking neon lights clouded the Fiesta’s dirty windshield as she turned left towards the rundown building.

That one turned out okay, didn’t it? Barbara thought as she pulled into the parking lot entrance. She took out a sheet of paper from the back pocket of her jeans and checked the information once again. Room 176.

Slowly, she drove down the parking lot until she saw the room number on the exterior door. One of the nails holding up the number six had broken, so the digit had rotated and initially it looked like room 179. Thanking her good luck, Barbara spied an empty space underneath a streetlamp close by and wrestled the old car into the spot.

Exercising caution, Barbara glanced around the lot before shutting off the engine. Too early for the local vagrants and winos to be up, the place looked relatively deserted for a Thursday night. Reaching over to the passenger’s seat, she rummaged through her overnight bag. She pulled out a brush and ran it a few times through her long black hair, trying her best to smooth out the tangles the open window had caused. Throwing the brush back into the bag, she took a quick inventory. The items the client had requested were there along with a small can of pepper spray.

Can’t be too careful, Barbara thought as she slipped her finger around the trigger guard. Throwing the piece of paper into the bag, she zipped it closed, flung it over her shoulder and stepped out of the car. With another quick glance around the parking lot, she walked towards the door.

She could see a dark shadow cross behind the dirty curtain covering the window as she knocked on the motel door. A man’s face appeared as the door opened up a crack. He said nothing as he stared straight through her.

You Mister Jones? I’m Mary, Barbara lied. You were expecting me?

No names, the small man said softly. Barbara heard the metal chain slide across as he opened the door wide. Come in.

Barbara stepped inside the dirty motel room as the man quickly shut the door behind her. He clicked the door lock shut and slid the chain back in its holder.

Grateful for the air conditioner going full blast, she turned to face him. A few inches smaller than she was, his thin brown hair was grimy and unkempt. He wore a plain white t-shirt that had greasy food stains running down the front. A sizeable belly hung over a pair of cutoff jeans that was two sizes too small for his stocky frame. Since she had skipped lunch, Barbara’s stomach grumbled as she noticed a half-eaten pizza lying on top of the wooden dresser next to a bunch of takeout menus.

Looking around the small room, she noticed an expensive video camera set up on a tripod. In the corner next to it was an equally expensive studio light. The make shift studio looked out of place next to the typical cheap motel furniture.

The video setup was pointed towards the bed. The motel’s bedspread had been removed and thrown in a heap in a far corner, replaced by a shiny red satin sheet. The expensive fabric harshly reflected the bright overhead ceiling light.

Did you bring the outfit that I asked for? the man asked. Barbara fought back a wave of nausea as the man grinned broadly, a row of yellow teeth desperately clinging onto a few pizza remnants.

I did, Barbara said as she nodded. Do you have the money?

She watched as he reached into his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out a wad of twenties.

Two hundred. Just like we agreed on. Wanna count it?

I trust you, she lied. Let me go change in there, she said as she pointed to the bathroom.

Remember, no underwear, the man commanded as Barbara entered the bathroom and shut the door behind her. And don’t forget the hat!

Barbara could hear him laugh softly as she set the bag down on the floor.

I’m going to need a long hot shower after this job, she thought as she glanced at the tub. Despite herself, she was smiling as she counted the bills in her hand.

Trying to find what she thought was a clean enough space, Barbara kicked off her sneakers and socks. She stuffed the bills into one of the socks and rolled it up tightly. Next, she pulled off her tee shirt and hung it on the shower curtain. Unbuckling her jeans, she step out of them and placed them next to her shirt. Quickly, she unhooked her bra and took it off. With a sigh, she slid down her panties and stood alone, naked in the motel bathroom.

Opening her bag, she took out a small package. With the side of her fingernail, she slit the clear plastic and pulled out a white half-slip. Per Mr. Jones’ exacting instructions, Barbara had made a side trip to the local K-Mart to purchase the lingerie.

When was the last time I wore a slip? Barbara wondered as she shook out the wrinkles and stepped into the silky soft garment. Reaching down, she pulled the fabric up over her breasts. Examining herself in the mirror, she could clearly see the outline of her naked body through the thin material, the bottom of the slip barely covering her butt.

Might as well be wearing nothing at all, Barbara thought as she ran the brush through her long hair for a final touchup. But this is what the client want, so this is what he gets!

Finished with her hair, she threw the brush into the bag, followed by all of her clothes. As an afterthought, she fingered the pepper spray canister once again. Deciding to leave it on top so that it was quickly available if needed, she pulled out a University of Texas ball cap. Setting the hat at a jaunty angle low on her head, Barbara picked up her bag and walked out of the bathroom.

In the bedroom, Mr. Jones was behind the video camera, fiddling with the settings. Around his neck hung a Canon 35mm camera. As she entered, he looked up at her and smiled.

Good. Very good, was all he said softly.

Where do you want me? she asked.

If front of the bed for now until I get the light settings correct, he answered.

Barbara walked in front of the camera and stood by the side of the bed. She set the bag down an arm’s length away, comforted by the fact that the pepper spray was close by.

The man made a final adjustment and clicked the shutter of the Canon. The bright light from the parabolic light shield flashed brightly, temporarily blinding Barbara.

Put your hands on your hips, he commanded. And smile.

Barbara set herself in the pose and forced herself to smile. The light flashed on again a few times as he took more pictures.

Now turn to your left and look down, he said. Barbara shifted her position and tried to look demure and angelic.

Good, he repeated. Turn around and face the wall.

Like a marionette on a string, Barbara followed his instructions.

Arch your head back.

After each set of posing directions, the dirty little man took a series of photographs, the sound of the camera’s shutter echoing off the bare walls.

Get on the bed, he said, his voice low and raspy.

Barbara sat down on the edge of the bed, the satin sheet cool against her bare skin.

Lose the hat, he said. She tossed it on the floor next to her bag and shook her long dark hair across her shoulders.

Lay down, he said just as softly. Barbara saw him grin as he took a dozen more photos.

Get on your stomach facing me, he next commanded. She turned over and stretched out across the bed, her arms by her side.

Pull the bottom of the slip up, he said, his breathing now heavy.

She reached behind her and tugged at the hem of the garment. The slip rose an inch to the bottom of her butt.

More, he said simply.

Barbara pulled again. The slip rose another half inch. She watched carefully as he stepped out from behind the camera and walked towards her.

Like this! he said loudly, his voice reverberating in the room. Before she could react, he reached down and yanked at the slip, pulling it up over her butt with a quick movement.

Better, he said.

Returning behind the camera, he snapped off a few more shots. Now stick your ass up in the air.

Barbara could feel her face grow red as she did what he asked.

Get on your knees and face me, he said breathlessly.

She pulled herself up on the bed as he directed, her face glowing red as she assumed the humiliating pose. The camera clicked a few more times.

Take off the slip, he said, his voice now coming in short gasps.

Barbara shut her eyes and hesitated.

Hey! You got paid, right?

She opened her eyes and looked at the man. With his hands on his hips, an angry look crossed his face.

Yeah… I got paid, she said.

With one quick move, Barbara flipped off the lingerie. Now totally naked, she crossed her arms across her body in some semblance of modesty.

Good, he said as his eyes glazed over. Now lie back down.

For the next hour, Barbara posed for the photographer. Without hesitation, she did as he commanded while he took still photos and a video of her naked body. All the while, she smiled pretty for the cameras as she remembered the wad of bills hidden in her sock and how they would help pay for the expensive books she needed next semester.

Eye on the prize, baby! Barbara reminded herself as she posed for the dirty pervert. Eye on the prize!

Chapter Two - An Itch You Can’t Scratch

JOHN AND TERRI were staring intently at each other from across their desks. Having put behind their last assignment in Los Angeles busting up a child pornography ring, they were experiencing a rare downtime. Like all partners, either sexual or business in nature, they participated in idle chatter to pass the time. Recently, they had both completed the massive amount of paperwork that goes along with government service, so they turned their attention to something else that was of vital importance. The subject of sex had come up and Terri was trying her best to convince John that it was women who have the better time during intercourse. Defending his position for all the men in the world, he wasn’t having any of her crap.

Are you shitting me? John asked.

I wouldn’t shit you, you’re my favorite turd! Terri replied, a wide grin on her face.

Funny girl, he replied. I still don’t believe that nonsense.

Of course it’s true. Women have a much better time during sex than men.

Bullshit, was his one word reply. Quickly, he looked over at Eugene Lee, who was busy with his phone. Sitting in a chair in the corner of the office, the thin Chinese man was tapping on his cell phone. Waiting for the Director to show up, he had excused himself from the high level Mensa discussion.

Are you going to weigh in on this, Eugene?

Are you kidding? he said, still staring intently at his gadget. Not a chance in hell.

Look… it’s simple, Terri continued. Let me try to explain it so that even you could understand.

John raised his ever-present coffee cup to his lips and settled back in his chair. Go on.

Suppose you have an itch in your ear. You stick your finger in it, wiggle it around a bit and then pull it out.

Sounds good so far, John said.

Don’t interrupt. When you’re done with all that squirming around, what feels better, your finger or your ear?

Hmmm… John mumbled as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Let me think about that.

Ha! Terri exclaimed, her green eyes shining brightly. You must bow down to my superior logic!

Or maybe, John said slowly, The pleasure depends on how big the finger is that you use to do the scratching. Wordlessly, he saw Terri blush as she cast him a secret, knowing look.

It had been three weeks since returning to the National Cybercrime Investigation Agency office in Sunnyvale, California and things were somewhat confused between the two. Their last case had ended with the both of them drunk, naked and extremely horny.

That was one item we both left out of our official reports… John thought as he saw Terri’s face turn a bright crimson.

After their passionate encounter in Las Vegas, they had both done their very best to mask their feelings for one another, silently agreeing never to act upon their emotions like that ever again. After all, John was dating a beautiful Irish blonde and Terri had Mike Perry, a San Jose police detective.

Initially, they had managed to skirt the issue of their hookup successfully.

Except for all the meaningful glances we keep giving each other, John thought as he watched her walk over to the coffee mess. He realized that was going to be difficult for him. John enjoyed watching Terri pass by as she moved about the office.

John had almost been busted the other day by Mary Beth. With the three of them in her office, John could not help but stare as Terri had bent over to retrieve a folder from the bottom drawer of a file cabinet.

Gotta be careful, John thought as he quickly noticed Eugene still engrossed with his phone. Can’t let anybody catch me looking at Terri like that.

Still, John snuck one more quick peek at Terri’s trim figure before he turned to look out the window. Today, she was dressed in a very businesslike dark grey Seventh Avenue design studio faux wrap pencil skirt and a white hidden button blouse that hugged her curves like a second skin. With the matching jacket draped carefully over the back of her chair, she presented a very lovely distraction for John.

You got a hot date today? John asked, hoping to knock out some of the tension that seemed to always hang in the air.

I’m meeting Mike after work for dinner, she answered.

Ah… was all John answered.

Wonder what’s up for us next? Terri asked, switching gears.

I hope it’s as exciting as our last case, John said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He shot Terri another quick, knowing glance.

Just then, Mary Beth Harrington, the Director’s personal secretary, walked into the office.

Hello one and all, she said in a pleasant voice. And how are we today?

John smiled as she entered. Not to be outdone in the fashion department, Mary Beth was wearing an expensively tailored Le Suit three-piece pantsuit.

Damn, these women must spend a fortune on their clothes, John thought. Not that I’m complaining, mind you…

Just hanging out, waiting for our next working assignments, Terri answered.

The Director will be here in a minute, Mary Beth continued. And he has some exciting news for all of you.

Oh boy! John said. Just what I wanted to hear.

Can you give us a hint about what’s coming up? Terri asked.

Nope, the tall blonde said, her eyes sparkling. But I bet Eugene will be very interested in what he has to say… Hearing his name, Eugene looked up from his phone, a confused look on his face as her voice trailed off.

Just then, the Director walked in. Remembering his military training, John stood up as his boss and friend entered. No longer Roger-Dodger, his old Jersey City police patrol buddy, the grey haired man standing in front of everybody was now the head of operations at the National Cybercrime Investigation Agency.

To everyone’s surprise, My-Tien Phan, Eugene’s Vietnamese girlfriend, was by his side. Instead of her usual school outfit of jeans and a tee shirt, she looked slightly out of place dressed in a pair of dress slacks and matching jacket.

Morning all, the Director said. Everyone mumbled out a ‘Morning, sir’ back to him as he walked over to the coffee mess. Eugene, in a mild state of shock, said nothing as My-Tien smiled sweetly at him.

John scrutinized his old friend carefully.

This job is really taking a toll on him, John thought as he noticed Roger’s left hand shaking slightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee. And that small tremor isn’t getting any better either…

Well, let’s get down to business, he said in his usual, direct manner. Good news first. You all know My-Tien. Everyone except Eugene nodded as he continued. As you know, My-Tien has just graduated from San Jose University with her master’s degree in computer science.

Everybody in the room knew this fact since they had all attended a party thrown for her by her large extended family not two weeks ago. Seated around a long table in groups according to age, gender and perceived social status, John had taken the opportunity to gorge himself on Vietnamese cuisine.

The feast had consisted of individual bowls of rice and noodles with the main courses placed in the center of the table on turntables. Starting with the items that he recognized, like boiled chicken and spring rolls, he became more adventurous, loading his plate with giò, a spicy Vietnamese sausage.

Sitting across from him at the large table, Eugene teased, Hey John, I didn’t know you liked fried donkey!

John face went blank as he paused eating, his fork paused halfway to his mouth.

Eugene laughed.