Club Mikado Part 2

As they reached the top of the stairs, but C and Joy were struck with the elegance of the surroundings- the bar had been carved of the finest oak with flowers and faces pushing out of the wood, as if they were alive, yearning to break free of the confines of the material they were made from. The place was lit with spotlights and black lights. The couches and chairs, thick and inviting- a small dance floor near a lookout to the street below.

Around the bar were people and in a sense it looked like a normal bar full of normal nicely dressed people. The ratio of men to women were off though- There were about 20 men, and about 50 women. Most of the men were older- dressed in business attire. The women ranged from 18 to 40, wearing short skirts and revealing necklines.

As C. and Joy approached the bar, C noticed that the women were checking he and Joy out- In thick accents, spoken in broken english- C. heard them speak. The voices were different, but the words were almost the same as they passed each girl. Some of the women were heavy, some were perfect-some were shaking, nervous as they spoke- fighting with the words as they came out of their mouths. Eyes darting back and forth- these were the ones in need of a fix- a chemical high. The older ones, had a sadness in their eyes, subtle and telling as they chanted.

"Wanna fuck?"

"I need your cock."

"Hey, I will eat your lady friend for you- You can watch".

These were prostitutes from Estonia and Russia. Some coming from as far as St. Petersburg. five weeks of selling their bodies in Helsinki could feed a family of four for a year back home. Most were slaves to the Russian Mafia, paying off debts- some were herion addicts, most of them drank too much, smoked too much and wanted to die on the inside.

Joy found a girl, roughly 2o years old- weak and nervous. Small breasted, almost a child in a way. Joy was quick and wasted no time and when Joy saw something that she wanted there was no deliberation. C. knew what was next. Over the music Joy shouted to C.

"Get us a drink- a couple of vodkas on ice! We'll be over here, Pick one you want- then lets get the fuck out of here."

C. did as he was told. His penis was already hardening as he went to the bar. Each of the women making eye contact and asking to see his cock, asking him to fuck them. He was shaking on the inside with anticipation. Sick and twisted- yet strangely alive. When he got to the bar- he stood next to an older woman that looked at him and smiled, then looked back towards the dance floor. She was different, not as overt- smart in that respect- knowing that by playing a bit coy- she would win out over the other more inexperienced hookers.

She leaned over to C. She nodded- "Welcome to this fucking madhouse, my name is Nadya!" She laughed easily. C. liked her right away. Nadya, of course- they were all named Nadya or Natasha or some other bullshit name- but it was her ease of talking that sealed the deal for C.

They got back to the table where Joy was already feeling between the legs of the young hooker. The negotiations were short- $500 for both of them-$350 for the older one, $150 for the younger one- they would catch a cab and go back to C and Joys hotel room.

From there the damage and the sickness would start.

Club Mikado Part 1

Such a place was called Club Mikado, closed last year- but one of the most amazing fronts for prostitution C. had ever seen. The bar was an old 1930's business building, with solid wood trim carved delicately with cherubs faces on the facade of the doorways and stairs. The floor was made of a black and white mozaic tile, painstakingly placed into the floor- the lamps shown dimly on them as he and Joy walked into the bar.

Inside the alcove sat a man behind a table- A big man with broad shoulders. His hair was cut in a flat top, military style. He was wearing a coat, which was odd with the warm temperatures of the month. He looked up at C. and Joy- his eyes met Joys for a moment- then over to C's.

"Yes?"

"How much for two"? Said C. He was uncomfortable with this man, he knew that he was Russian Mafia. Through opening in the coat he saw a large pistol.

"You, 30" He looked at Joy. "Her, free".

Joy was wearing a thin silk, black dress with her hard nipples very visible. Her black hair, tied back, thick rimmed glasses framing her eyes. C. produced the 30 euros while Joy stood there looking as smoldering as ever.

"Stand over there" the Russian said. C. went first. He turned his back against a wall of the alcove. The guard roughly frisked him, then asked him to set aside.

It was Joy's turn- He had her put her hands against the wood paneling. He started on her legs, slowly moving up each one, stopping for a second where her legs and her ass met. C. saw him gently squeeze her ass- copping a feel, reaching up towards her pussy. Joy in response, lifted her head up a little and cleared her throat. He then moved up her back, slower now- feeling her spine- reaching around her waist- towards her stomach, then up towards her breasts. She put her head down and shook her head-C. couldn't see her face- but he guessed she was smiling. C. was feeling a little flush with irritation. He wasn't possesive of Joy, but he also didn't like seeing her abused in this way.

The Russian let her go- Both C. and Joy were at the base of the ornately carved stairwell passed the man's station. Joy looked at the man, smiled broadly and said softly,"Pig".

The Russian, looked at her closely, his eyes narrowed. C. was now nervous. It was 2am- and help was very far, if not impossibly far away. Joy just smiled at the Russian- As if she had said good morning to the man for the first time.
'
The Russian laughed. He said, "Go- find yourself some pussy, bitch!". He went back to his table and sat down. From underneath the table, he pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, which could have only been vodka and took a long slug from it.

C. and Joy climbed the stairs- Techno music was playing loudly. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted down. They passed a couple, a very young woman- in her early 20's and a overweight business man in his 50's dressed in a suit. The woman was holding onto the man's arm, rubbing the fabric of the man's suit as they walked down. The woman looked at Joy, long and hard- She wasn't sure what to make out of the beautiful woman in her mid 30's walking into the club Mikado.


(More to follow )

Helsinki September 2006: Part 1

The water way between Helsinki and Estonia takes about two hours to cross on a regular ferry. The proximity to mother Russia leaves Finland very vulnerable to the new seedy western influences of the former Soviet Republic. Finland is very conservative in some respects and very liberal in others. They don't have gambling houses out in the open, or even hidden like Japan's Pachinko palaces, which are fronts for the Japanese Yakuza's to launder money. If you want to gamble you, there is normally a card table at the local disco in the corner. If you want to fuck, there are other places.

Tokyo: Two years later

Tokyo smells like moss in the springtime. Like the scent of sex, it hangs heavy in the back of your throat, making the words coming out of your mouth thick and heavy. Outside the window of the Intercontinental Hotel the rain fell gently against the pane. The once crisp sheets now wrinkled and matted. Cumfort laid on his back, sweating- cooling his skin from the heat in the room. She sat up smoking a cigarette, naked and still moist from their session of fucking. The room wreaked of the smell of cum, her juices, Mild Seven cigarettes and moss. The ever present smell of the city. She laid back and looked at the ceiling. She took a drag and blew a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

They didn't say a word. Two years of this madness. Two years of chasing each other over the globe. The nervous girl he lusted at the New York bookstore is gone, long gone. In reality she never existed- Replaced with the percieved innocence was a dangerously sick person- with desires and lusts deeper than he ever could have imagined. He looked at his dairy from that day before he flew to Tokyo. How naive he was. How he thought he was so in control, stalking her. She turned the tables on him long ago. He thought he was a player.

In reality, he was nothing when he was with her.

In reality he was her puppet-her flesh and blood dildo. Her cock. He felt trapped, smothered and sick. Bits and pieces of the last two years came to him- haunted him. But he always came back for more.

In reality, he always would.

Beginnings: The moment

From the personal diary of Cumfort, June 2005

"It starts as a glance- A moment. A small smile. The brushing of hair away from her brow. The licking of lips. Moistly ready. Delicate movements. Subtle- but telling.

She was sitting at the bookstore cafe directly across from me. I was watching her for the previous half hour wondering if she was catching my stare- She looked uncomfortable- unsure of my intentions.

My intentions were clear to anyone watching me। I wanted her- I wanted her with every fiber of my being. The eyes, the black shoulder length hair, the small breasts and the long legs. It was all there- ripe for the taking.

She pretended to be working on a stack of papers। Her eyes darted around the pages. She

wasn't reading them. I laughed to myself. Was she wondering who I was. Did I mean her danger? Was I stalking her? I probably was, but in my mind- all I felt was heat. I had to be carfeful, I didn't want to scare her, too much- There is a moment in every seduction that allows you to move forward or backwards. Now was not the moment. She had to know the desire was there- but she also had to know she was safe too.

As it would turn out, there would be more than enough time..."

C-