Part 8. Taken.


	Amy was furious.  She had lain on the bed for a few minutes after
Malcolm's departure, trying to summon the will to get up and look for the keys
but had instead fallen asleep.  The sky was light when she had awakened.  It had
taken her three hours to find the keys which had been laying on top of the dirt
in one of her potted plants.  It wasn't spending the night handcuffed that made
her angry, although the search for the keys had certainly contributed to her ill
humor.  What made her mad was that Malcolm had done it to her again.  She had
been stripped naked, tied up, led around on a leash and whipped, then forced to
beg for sex.  What was she, some bimbo slut?  "Oh, Malcolm, please, please,
please fuck me."  Amy was furious with herself.  After a performance like that,
she couldn't even pretend she'd been raped.  And after all that Malcolm had
prevented her from learning anything about Claire--if anything had been learned. 
She had no way of knowing since she had been purposely excluded from the
conversation.

	Amy was angry at Malcolm, angry at herself, angry at the world.  So far
she had submitted herself to two evenings of degradation and servitude and had
nothing to show for it.  She was no closer to finding Claire than when she
started.  Malcolm had played her for a fool and Amy was now convinced that he
was responsible for Claire's disappearance.  That Sebastian guy was a major
weirdo, but Amy now doubted that he had anything to do with Claire.

	Maybe she should tell the police about Malcolm.  She decided against it
for the time being; she couldn't actually prove anything.  What was required,
she concluded, was a confrontation with Malcolm.  She wanted to look him in the
eye and demand that he reveal Claire's whereabouts.  She called Malcolm.

	"Malcolm, we have to talk."

	"So talk."

	"No, this has to be done face to face."

	"Alright.  Would you like me to come over?"

	"No."  If Malcolm was at her house, it might be hard to make him leave
and she would have no place to run to.  "How about where we met Cindy?"  This
appealed to her as neutral territory and she could make Malcolm buy her lunch.

	"What time?"

	"Two."

	"See you then."

	Amy hung up.  She decided to dress and put on one of her work
outfits--hose, heels, makeup, and jewelry.  It made her feel professional and
she would need the psychological leverage to deal with Malcolm properly.  Most
of her previous encounters with Malcolm had ended with her being tied up and
relieved of some of her clothing and most of her dignity.  No such outcome would
be permitted this time.

	She had just finished dressing and had sat down to compose herself for
the upcoming confrontation when her doorbell rang.  Amy opened the door but saw
no one.  She stuck her head out the door and looked around.  Still no one.  The
phone rang.  Amy returned inside and picked up the receiver.  There was no one
on the line.  She returned and closed the front door.  After a moment, the
doorbell rang again.  This was too much.  It could only be Malcolm.  Amy stomped
to the front door and flung it open.  There was no one.  Amy slammed the door
and locked it.  Time to call the police.

	As she turned toward the phone a canvas sack was pulled over her head
from behind and the drawstrings jerked tight around her neck.  Amy screamed, but
the heavy sack muffled the sound.  Her arms were jerked behind her and tied,
then her ankles were bound as well.  She was carried from the house and dumped
in the trunk of a car.  The trunk lid slammed.

	Amy was more angry than frightened.  Malcolm had definitely gone too far
this time.  She didn't even care what he did to her.  She would make him pay
afterwards.  She fumed and struggled as the car drove her to Malcolm's hideaway.

	Malcolm waited at the restaurant until 3:00, but Amy never showed.  He
called her number, but there was no answer.  Concerned, Malcolm drove to her
house.  Her car was in the drive.  The front door was locked.  Malcolm rang the
bell and pounded on the door, but there was no response.  Not knowing what else
to do, Malcolm returned home.

	As he drove, Malcolm considered the situation.  Was Amy jerking him
around?  Had he carried things too far last night?  Perhaps some emergency had
arisen.

	When he arrived home, he called and left a message on Amy's machine,
then listened to the messages on his own machine.  There was nothing from Amy,
but there was one from Mike who wanted him to call.  He dialed Mike's number.

	"Hey, Mike, what's up?"

	"Malcolm, can you come by?  I've found something rather odd I'd like to
show you."

	"Sure.  Be about 30 minutes."

	"See you then."

	Malcolm had kept in touch with Mike, but neither of them had made much
progress.  He hadn't told Mike about Sebastian and the Bit and Bridle.  It
wasn't that he was holding out on Mike.  Malcolm fully intended to inform him if
anything came of it, but in the meantime, he didn't want Mike to know about his
visits there with Amy.  It would raise too many questions about his own
activities.

	When he arrived, Mike handed him a beer and a white business card. 
Malcolm looked at the card.

To Love and OBEY

Men, is your significant other lacking in
These qualities?
Is she giving you the full measure of
Respect that is your due?
We can help.

	Malcolm turned the card over.

S&M Enterprises

Schooling for women with an emphasis
On the virtue of obedience.


	"So that's where he gets them," Malcolm exclaimed.

	"Where who gets what?"

	Malcolm told Mike about Sebastian and the Bit and Bridle.

	"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this before.  It's just that it's
sort of an embarrassing subject and unless it really turned out to be something,
I didn't want to mention it for Amy's sake."

	"For Amy's sake.  Right.  Malcolm, you could have told me.  I would have
understood."

	"You're right.  I'm sorry."

	"Apology accepted.  Anyway, it looks like somebody took your idea and
ran with it."

	"What idea?"

	"I know about your business, Malcolm.  Claire told me."

	Malcolm was stunned.  He took a long sip of his beer, trying to
formulate a reply.

	"It's okay," Mike said.  "You're secret's safe with me."

	"That's good to know," Malcolm replied, still feeling uncomfortable. 
"On to business.  Where did you get that card?"

	"A guy at work gave it to me.  Remember when Grace first disappeared? 
It was just after we had a fight and I thought she was just avoiding me.  Before
you called me, I was grousing about women in general and Grace in particular. 
So yesterday, this guy comes up to me and asks if Grace and I ever made up.  He
said if I was still having problems I should send her to these guys and they'd
straighten her out."

	"There's no number or anything on here.  Can this guy contact them?"

	"I don't know.  I already tried to call him this evening.  I'll try
again tomorrow."

	"Did this guy use their service?"

	"I would guess so.  I've met his wife more than once at company parties
and elsewhere.  She's a total bitch.  She treats Brad like crap, flirts with
guys in front of him, probably cheats on him.  I wouldn't be surprised if he
sent her in for regrooving."

	"Maybe we could arrange to meet her."

	"That might be revealing.  I'll try to set it up."

	"The real question is whether or not these are our guys."

	"It sounds like it might be Manfred's kind of thing.  There can't be all
that many guys doing this kind of shit."

	"In the meantime, we can pay a visit to the Bit and Bridle.  Maybe
Sebastian will show up."

	"With Grace gone, I don't have anyone to take.  Besides, leading women
around on a leash just isn't my thing."

	"We don't have to go in.  We'll just ask Gerald; he's the doorman. 
Besides, if Sebastian is there, I don't necessarily want him to see me.  Maybe
we can follow him when he leaves."

	"Yeah, I'd love to get my hands on that bastard Manfred."

	"I'll come back by about 8:00.  We should go in your car."