Chapter 4
Shirlee waited behind the dressing room curtain, fantasizing blood curdling tales of what Bu Manchu would do to her body if he caught her spying on him. Weak-kneed and barely breathing, she waited until Bu, Hiro and Kim sauntered off into a darker, more convenient part of the show room. Quickly, she pulled herself together, concentrating to dislodge the live sex act she'd witnessed and retraced her steps back downstairs where the grey haired woman sat pouring over her work.
"My dear, I thought you'd long since left." The receptionist cocked an eyebrow at the blonde, indicating that taking liberties in Bu Manchu's design studio was fatally taboo. "But I have good news for you. Mr. Manchu just telephoned from upstairs saying he's looking for a blonde haired girl for his show. I think you've got the look he demands." Even as she spoke, the woman's hazel eyes lingered on the luscious mounds of Shirlee's upthrust breasts. "Mr. Manchu is very particular about his models. This might be a good break for you."
Shirlee was pleased; the ice in her veins thawed. "Tell Mr. Manchu, please, that I would be delighted to be part of his show." She watched as the receptionist scribbled something on a Manchu business card and handed it to her.
"Take this card along with you to the yacht tomorrow night two hours before the showing. His assistant normally chooses his models, but it seems they're hung up today . . . which is the only reason I'm taking the liberty of giving you the go ahead." The receptionist seemed very nervous about making decisions on Manchu's behalf, noted Shirlee mentally, accepting the card and turning on her feel, feeling smug about today's accomplishments. Mr. Barker would be pleased.
Shirlee hadn't noticed until she stepped out of the cab that her wristwatch was losing time. The normally cool-headed blonde stood for a moment at the foot of Bu Manchu's gang plank, pausing while she composed herself, knowing that to appear ruffled and overly excited would nullify all chances for getting close to the infamous jade smuggler. Inwardly, she shuddered, remembering the disgustingly lustful scene she'd witnessed in Manchu's showroom . . . Manchu's abuse of the Thai girl in particular. Something else confused her: his strange remark about the border patrol being enthralled with Hiro's slinky, luscious looks. What had that to do with Burmese jade and the price of jewelry, anyway? For the kingpin of a multimillion dollar jade smuggling operation, the patrol's impression of Bu's models was a ridiculously moot point, wasn't it?
Another fact didn't sit well with Shirlee. Why was Manchu blatantly disinterested in exporting his jewelry when the West-America in particular-was clamoring for Eastern import goods now that China was once again open for trade with the rest of the world? Manchu certainly had a razor sharp business mind . . . but why?
A fly buzzed in the ointment.
Shirlee drew one more deep breath to calm herself, then approached the sinewy bronze skinned guard at the plank, standing with his feet wide apart, his arms crossed over his chest, reminding Shirlee of a Mr. Clean ad she's seen in an old US magazine.
"Your card, miss?"
The man's stony face didn't change its indifferent expression; she handed him her card and gave her hair a combing stroke. Above all, her appearance must please Manchu. Fleetingly, Shirlee wondered if the man thumbing her card could be the same man who gave the fatal karate chop to a luckless Manchu model years back. What had she done to displease him so? That steely glare made her suspicious.
"I'm one of the models," said Shirlee, a little miffed at the unnecessary once-over. "Would you like to see other identification?"
He grunted something and handed the card back to her, then tossed his head in the direction of the yacht, no words spoken.
The deck was abuzz with activity. A small Chinese combo was setting up their unique musical instruments on the after deck while chattering caterers in white uniforms arranged chafing dishes and platters on a long table.
"Orientals are an efficient race, aren't they?" came a man's voice from behind her and Shirlee jumped involuntarily as Bu Manchu stepped forward and stared brazenly into her eyes.
"Mr. Manchu? Shirlee Canan. . ." She held out her hand and he squeezed it warmly.
Bu sucked in his breath, his dark appraising eyes taking in the curvy form of his impromptu model. Shirlee was shocked to realize that this powerful man breathing inches away from her neck was exactly her height: five foot eight. Somehow his aggressive manner made him seem a giant. "I'm pleased you are on time. . . . if there's one thing I despise, it's tardiness." And people spying from behind dressing room curtains, thought Shirlee with a shiver. "Come with me. . ."
He took her by the elbow and led her regally as if she were his inspiration, instead of merely a model to show off his creations. "I want you to meet Kim, my assistant. She will help you in preparing yourself for the showing." He led the way to a cabin room and opened the door for her. "I am pleased you have consented to model for us. Your fair-skinned beauty will compliment the Manchu collection with unparalleled success."
"You are most kind, Mr. Manchu. I'll do my best to please you." Now why did I say that? wondered Shirlee, watching the man's mouth twitch into a sly smirk.
The door closed behind her just as Kim, dressed in a slinky black satin sarong slithered through the adjoining door. Shirlee glanced directly into the almond sloe-eye of the assistant to one of the Orient's most feared criminals.
"Mr. Manchu is no doubt pleased you have come," she said evenly, looking fully poised and self assured. "You are tastefully dressed for the show. That neckline is perfect for what you will be wearing."
Thank God, thought Shirlee, at least 1 won't have to go naked! Things were looking up.
"We have been looking for a blonde-haired model to show off our collection," she purred on, reaching down on the bed to unlock a hand carved teakwood box lined with black velvet and filled with the original Manchu jade collection.
If Manchu didn't export his jewelry, why is he so concerned with having a blond-haired model? That, too, fell into the category of questionables that seemed to be piling up fast.
"Our guests will be arriving in an hour. I will give you instructions as to where you will stand. Since jewelry, unlike clothing, is best seen up close, we prefer that you remain after the showing to mingle with the crowd. You will find the guests a very select group of people."
"I'm sure they are," echoed Shirlee, watching the naked brown shoulders ripple before her as Kim reached down to draw out a rolled jade necklace and a set of gold earrings casing carved pink jade shells. Despite herself, Shirlee had to admire the smoothness of the brown skinned beauty, and again she asked herself why a woman with such exquisite features would find pleasure in another woman's body. That was too heady a question at this point. "You have modeled often?"
Shirlee nodded, her amber eyes following the woman's deft movements as she held up the exquisite necklace and stepped forward to lay the cold rocks on Shirlee's soft neck. Close as she was, she could smell the rich Bali perfume emanating from the woman's luscious body like fresh flowers on a spring night, and goose-bumps jumped over Shirlee's flesh at the feel of Kim's talon-like nails grazing over her naked skin as the necklace was clasped in place. Standing on polished tip toes to pull back a wisp of baby soft blonde curls, Kim's firm high-set breasts rubbed accidentally against Shirlee's puffy nipples and sent a shiver up the girl's spine as she felt the cold feel of an earring weighting down her ear lobe.
The guests arrived in buzzing throngs on that warm June evening, all hundred of them. Fashion and society reporters from London, Paris, Rome and New York cruised the deck vulture-like. A certain segment was comprised of other famous jade dealers and a smattering of artists whom Shirlee failed to recognize, but she made a mental note of which photographers were taking photos of who, in case Mr. Barker might consider that essential information.
The showing itself was brief, but successful though it wasn't until Hiro stepped out onto the platform that the flashbulbs started clicking. Photographers fell down on one knee capturing Hiro's sleek animalist brown beauty with the gold chains draped about her slinky curves. Shirlee was thankful for the repose to study the crowd and try to match fuzzy newspaper clipping faces with the flesh and blood ones surrounding her.
Name designers clustered around her, like flies to honey, using the excuse of admiring her jewelry to the caress her breasts, stroke her soft neck and slip a hand where it didn't belong. A waiter passed around drinks and she joyfully accepted one. Being a model had never appealed to her better senses; a faceless position, she considered it, one step above being a secretary.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Manchu asked, worming his way through the crowd. Shirlee noticed he had the talent common among politicians and businessmen, of concentrating all his attention upon her while he was talking to her, as if no one else existed. Very clever, she though . . . and intimidating. Still, something about his gaze made her feel flattered and delighted. She was here to spy on him and if he was attracted to her, so much the better. Still, she couldn't allow herself the inconsistency of letting herself be captured by his charms. He was a murderer.
"It was fun. I loved your collection, Mr. Manchu."
"The minute I saw you, I picked you out as a model. You could do very well in the business . . . if you had the right connections," he put in eagerly. "I have many beautiful women working for me. . ." and here he gestured toward Hiro, "but none as beautiful as you."
"You are a very flattering man," she offered loosely, realizing at the same time that he was doing a fine job of keeping her off guard. "It was a privilege to model your jewelry."
Apparently, that's what he'd wanted to hear, for he turned on his heel and disappeared through the crowd, leaving the girl slightly perplexed and very frustrated. Perhaps his motives were more sexual than commercial, and if this turned out to be the case, what should her response be? Suppose he asked her to stay for a drink after the showing? Should she accept?
A few feet away from where she was standing, one of the models suddenly dropped her glass on the deck, her yellow skin suddenly gone white. Her smooth skinned features twisted up into a knot of pain and she slumped to the deck in a clatter of jade and gold jewelry.
"Oh . . . I feel . . . dizzy," she mumbled. Manchu's crew acted with dispatch, elbowing aside the cluster of concerned people and supporting her lithe weight between two of them as they led her into a cabin. Kim appeared from nowhere with smelling salts and a glass of water, while a crew member swept up the broken glass to quickly dispel evidence of illness. Instantaneously, the incident was over with and forgotten. Manchu was back at her elbow.
"Sue just fainted," the blonde informer said. "One of the models."
"Yes, poor Sue. I'm going to have to replace her. She faints in public . . . one of those phobias, perhaps?" He sounded impatient, disgusted, anxious to forget the matter.
"Perhaps it was the drink. . . ?" Shirlee's suspicious mind was speaking out of turn. Manchu gave the air a sudden karate chop and Shirlee took the hint, dropping the subject like a hot potato. His expression thawed and in a mellifluous voice, he said, "In appreciation for your fine talents, I want you to have the jewelry you're wearing. It fits you perfectly. Jade has always been cherished by the Chinese . . . in fact, in ancient China only the emperors were allowed to wear it, for as Confucius said, Jade is a virtuous gem." He paused to fondle his own pink carved creation dangling from Shirlee's shell-like ear. "Its warmth and luster indicate charity, its translucent quality typifies sincerity and its hardness mirrors intelligence and wisdom. . . ." He let his warm finger tips trail down the milky white stretch of her soft, naked neck. "I consider myself a fine judge of character, Shirlee, and you are all those things."
What could she say to that? "Oh . . . I couldn't. . . I mean . . ." Her fingers reached up to stroke the rolled jade necklace. It would be difficult to remain objective after accepting a gift of this magnitude. Mr. Barker might consider it unethical, and who could foresee what Manchu would want in return? The lewd image of Hiro kneeling humbly at his feet, sucking his bloated penis flashed through her mind, and she shook her head.
"Please . . . we Orientals consider it an insult to refuse gifts."
"But . . ." she struggled to form an objection in her mind, but she already knew she would wear that gorgeous jade necklace to her grave, so cherishable was it. Besides, there was something about the way he gave an order that compelled obedience, and Shirlee gave in.
Then he was gone again, moving through the crowd with practiced ease, leaving her standing alone, dumbfounded. Once again, he'd managed to haze her alertness. Why was he going to such trouble to make a good impression on her? Did he make it a habit of giving away his creations to his models? That was an important consideration . . . one worth following up, and Shirlee ambled back toward the cabin, hoping to find there at least one of the other models to test the validity of her hunch.
The inside of Manchu's Emerald was cavernous and Shirlee had difficulty remembering just which cabin Manchu had assigned for the models. Hastily, she pushed experimentally on several doors, finding them locked. Then she spotted an open hatch at the far end of a long corridor which appeared to run the full length of the ship. A bluish light emanated from the room and Shirlee wondered if it might be a control room. The corridor was void of humanity, so she poked her way in. The light, she discovered, was coming from a series of video screens and the lesbian assistant, Kim, was hunched over a kind of control panel, a pair of earphones on her head connected to a video tape recorder. Obviously, she couldn't have heard Shirlee approach and the young blonde was about to sneak back in search of the other models when her amber eye focused on the video screen closest to her. It was the face of Sue, the model who had fainted from the drink. What in the world was going on?
Reminding herself that investigation was not part of her job, Shirlee hesitated, since Kim could turn around at any second and see her prying into something that obviously was none of her business. Still there was the chance she wouldn't, since Kim was too engrossed in what was happening on the panel of video screens to glance over her shoulder. Anxiety bubbled in Shirlee's stomach as she reminded herself that taking chances was what investigation was all about, and stepped forward so that she could see all the screens in one sweep.
The lithe bodied model named Sue was shown on all four screens; the first screen showed only her face, her serene Chinese features twisted into a mask of undisguised lust. The other three screens showed her unclothed body from every conceivable angle as she lay stark naked on the bed, her hands tied together over her head, her legs left free. Sue was thrashing back and forth, apparently in the final stages of demonic ecstasy.
MY GOD!. Shirlee realized with a sudden insight just what was going on. She'd been drugged . . . that's why she fainted!
Anyone could see that Sue's behavior was quite bizarre, indeed. One video camera was aimed up between the model's shamelessly spread thighs and Shirlee could see that her vagina was flowered open and moist as if she had just had intercourse. The camera equipment of unsurpassed Japanese workmanship, produced an incredibly clear image and the young informer could distinguish every fold and wrinkle in Sue's ravaged cunt. The screen magnified the image somehow and she could even see the woman's pussy quivering and palpitating, as if even her pussy was begging to be battered and abused again.
Shirlee bit her knuckle as the figure of a man entered the picture. His face was turned to the side, away from the cameras, but he was muscular and naked as Sue herself. He seized the woman's legs and rolled her over onto her stomach, his hands moving immediately to the softly flaccid half moons of her buttocks. Expertly, he spread the two spheres, exposing the whole flat plane of the woman's backside to the camera's eye. Sue had been thrashing wildly back and forth, and her hips were still quivering with unsatisfied lust as the man's lewd finger danced wickedly over the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
These people were crazy! thought Shirlee, a little trickle of fear winding traitorously up her spine. This sort of thing only happens in the movies! What are they doing to that poor model? And why? What was this thing Manchu had for his models?
There was no immediate answer to any of these questions, except for the one about what they were going to do to Sue. Manchu straightened up, bringing a long, lust-stiffened penis into play and began probing with this fleshy instrument between the model's obscenely parted buttocks. Shirlee could see that Sue's mouth was open and moving, mouthing words . . . but it was impossible to tell whether she was crying, or pleading for mercy, or begging to be sodomized. In the end, it probably made no difference, because Manchu was clearly the director of this show. He was clearly going to sodomize her, realized Shirlee, as she watched him place the mushroom head of his massively throbbing penis against the puckering circle of the girl's anus and began probing and pushing. A moment of electric tension virtually crackled across the picture tube, and then Bu moved, slashing forward with his hips.
Sue's naked body went into a series of spasms, as if an electric current had just passed through her veins, straining desperately against the cruel ropes that bound her face-down. Shirlee found herself instinctively clenching her own ass cheeks as if she was about to be assaulted from behind, while she watched Manchu's thick cock slide inexorably up into the puckering orifice of the woman's nether ring.
God, how could Sue stand it? The man's lust thickened pole of flesh was big and he was ramming into her defenseless little anus like a maniac, surging deeper and deeper as if he did not care whether or not he tore her delicate anus to shreds. The rampant spear of male flesh went in all the way, right to the hilt, and Shirlee watched in awe as Sue's supple body began to pump up and down, desperately answering each of the man's punishing sodomistic strokes with an answering stroke of her own. Oh God! Sue was enjoying it! Whatever kind of drug they had put in her, they had managed to dampen her sense of shame and pain so that she was willing to accept even this bizarre unnatural act of anal copulation!
Shirlee could watch no more. Two days on the case and already she'd witnessed two sordid sex acts. She was shaking pitifully. Something more than mysterious was going on in Bu Manchu's jade business, but she was only risking her life by peering over Kim's shoulder any longer. She had some thinking to do if she ever expected to piece together what all this was supposed to mean, but that she could accomplish in safer, less distracting quarters. Recalling Barker's suggestion of warding against getting dramatic, she realized that if she were to watch any more of Manchu's unfolding drama, she might loose her composure . . . entirely.
Quickly, the young informer walked back up the corridor to the afterdeck, her mind in a fog. What kind of brutal person would sodomize a woman? What kind of woman would enjoy such disgusting treatment?
"I was wondering where you had disappeared to," called out Manchu emphatically as Shirlee reappeared in the midst of the party, feeling shaky and flustered, her cheeks burning insidiously. After that dreadful experience she had just suffered through, it suddenly felt marvelous to be out in the fresh open air again, away from whatever dark and criminal thing they were doing to Sue.
"Oh, the female thing, you know," she answered back, a little hysterically, as Manchu caught her arm and decided to steady her nerves with a drink which she accepted from a waiter who materialized from nowhere. Manchu was talking in her ear, the blonde informer found she had to read his lips to concentrate hard enough to understand what he was saying.
". . . My jewelry was made for beauty such as yours, and you will be lucky enough to see for yourself where this exquisite Burmese jade comes from . . ."
Burma? Seeing for herself? What was he talking about, she thought dizzily, her head spinning like a top. There was no accompanying nausea, but still she had the desperate need to sit down somewhere. What was wrong with her? Could watching Sue being sodomized on the video screen affect her this profoundly?
"You're looking pale, my dear," she heard Manchu whisper in her ear. "Very pale. . .. . .
"If . . . if you don't mind . . . I . . . I'd like to lie down for a minute," she mumbled feeling as if she were in the heart of a maelstrom on some godforsaken sea. "I don't know what's. . ."
"Come along with me. You can lie down in one of the cabins until you feel better," he purred in his soft, unctuous voice.
He ushered her around the corner, guiding her by the elbow, before it hit her. The symptoms were the same as with Sue. The model had started out feeling dizzy and ended up being sodomized, tied up and photographed. Not an appropriate fate for an informer!
With an anguished cry, she broke away from Manchu and stampeded down the corridor, the deck whirling about her . . . up a hatchway to an upper deck. Her ears buzzed and her eyes saw double, and she shook her head trying to clear it to save herself from whatever Manchu had in mind for her. The shuffle of running feet behind her intensified her desperation and she kicked off her shoes and darted frantically towards the prow of the ship. In the darkness, her drugged confusion overwhelmed her. She stumbled, and fell with a whimper against a canvas-covered lifeboat, bruising herself as she thudded into it. Shouts sounded in back of her, and she instinctively knew that Manchu was organizing a search for her. The night was filled with a trillion stars as she pulled back the canvas and fell into the lifeboat, then fumbled to replace the canvas, smoothing it of rumples.
With a long, moaning sigh, she fell into a semicoma and Manchu, the jewelry draping her neck and Sue's sodomization all became timeless, inconsequential memories.