They soon reached the base of a steel staircase leading up to the DJ tower. It was roped off and flanked by a couple of bouncers. Gragg leaned in close to one of the bouncers. "Tell me when she's taken the hit!"
The bouncer knew the drill. He watched poker-faced as the young guy popped what he probably thought was ecstasy into the girl's mouth. She washed it down with a swig of bottled water, laughed, then writhed with the pounding music. The bouncer nodded to Gragg. Gragg nodded back and the rope was withdrawn to let them pass.
As the boy passed by Gragg, Gragg leaned into his ear. "Play your cards right, man, and I'm gonna get you laid within the hour." The guy smiled back and gave Gragg what the kid probably assumed was the universal "playas'" handshake.
Gragg watched them go. They were now in the holding pen-a controlled area where he could further reduce her inhibitions. The prostitutes there and Cheko's men would make it all seem completely acceptable to "go wild." Gragg had successfully separated her from her support system. The rest should be easy. He was already erect in anticipation, but a little patience was required.
Gragg walked the perimeter for a good fifteen minutes before heading back to the holding pen. He found the girl dancing on the mid-deck with a crowd of perhaps twenty. Most of the women there were attractive and scantily clad-but these were Cheko's whores and were of no interest to Gragg. The seventeen-year-old target was laughing as her date danced between women in g-strings. The girl was evidently flying high. On meth the laser lights, the trance music, and the writhing motion were said to be hypnotic. Accompanied by a surge of sexual arousal and perceived invulnerability. Or so Gragg had heard. He didn't take drugs himself.
Gragg radioed the security guard in the DJ tower. He couldn't even hear himself talk, but he knew the guard would hear. The guard looked out and saw Gragg wave his arm slowly, then point at the girl dancing nearby. The guard leaned over to Mix Master Jamal, and the DJ looked out at Gragg. He nodded and then snapped his fingers at the light board operator. Gragg leaned over to her date. "What's your girl's name?"
"Jennifer!"
"You wanna see her tits?"
The guy stared for a second in dumb amazement. Then burst out laughing. "Hell yeah!"
Gragg spoke her name into the radio and moved forward. A spotlight shone down onto Jennifer, and the DJ's voice came out like the booming voice of God, "Check out Jennifer! Is she hot or what?" A roar of lust arose from a thousand voices.
Jennifer laughed and looked back to see her date and those around her shouting encouragement.
The DJ's voice. "Let's see you move, baby!" The pounding bass moved back in, and she moved seductively to it. The other dancers moved away, and the laser lights enshrined her on the platform. The crowd surged in anticipation. Her eyes became wild with her potent sexuality. Each rhythmic gyration of her hips made a thousand guys howl. She was anonymous and powerful.
But Gragg was her new master. He looked back at Jennifer's date, smiled, and nodded to the DJ.
The DJ's voice boomed down again. "Lose the top!"
A thousand voices roared and took up the chant. The chant quickly fell in line with the music. "Lose-the-top! Lose-the-top!" Even the girls in the audience were cheering. Jennifer danced, soaking up the adoration. All eyes were on her body, screaming with lust. She was high enough that she didn't mind, and it seemed such a small thing to please them all.
She first teased them by flashing her breasts, but that only drove the crowd wild for more. They knew they had her now; it was only a matter of wills. They took up the chant with renewed vigor. "Lose-the-top! Lose-the-top!"
When she pulled her top off and danced, breasts jiggling free, the roar of joy rattled the walls. They motioned for her to toss her top down, and she dangled it above the outstretched hands of the lustful mob. Someone managed to grab it from her, and it was soon torn to pieces. Jennifer laughed and tugged at the All Area Access badge around her neck. Girls around the room started flashing their breasts, sitting atop the shoulders of guys in the crowd.
The DJ cranked up the music again, and the party moved on. But Gragg moved in with one of Cheko's men holding a digital video camera. Jennifer smiled as they filmed her dancing topless in front of a thousand people. Her young, toned body glistened with sweat.
Within a half hour, Jennifer was sitting on a sofa in the holding pen, sucking Gragg off while her date looked on in shock. But her date didn't stop them. Gragg moaned while one of Cheko's men videotaped her. He looked to Jennifer's date. "You're after me."
When he ejaculated into her mouth, Gragg felt a rush of power and sexual release. This was his drug. Gragg didn't like whores. He liked to turn women intowhores. The feeling of power was every bit as pleasurable as his ejaculation-perhaps more so. The fact that he was making money off this girl by doing a live porn Web cast for Cheko's Web site was even sweeter. She was being broadcast to the world, and the file would never go away. Gragg made sure he was never filmed above the waist.
As he moved away, he yelled, "Bukkaki!" And a dozen men surrounded her. She was already sucking on her date's cock. The meth was working its magic on her as the cameraman zoomed in.
Gragg zipped up his pants and moved away, feeling the endorphins course through his body.
Heider suddenly appeared next to him, laughing. "You're an evil man, Loki." Heider handed him a bottle of water.
"At least I got laid tonight."
Heider poked a finger into Gragg's chest. "At least I don't need a thousand people to orchestrate a blow job." He looked back at the girl starting on another guy. "Is she gonna remember any of this?"
"Probably not. And even if she does, she won't. If you know what I mean." Gragg looked at his watch. "Listen, meet me back at the car at three A.M. sharp. I've got to meet the Filipinos."
Heider nodded absently, still watching the girl work.
Gragg punched his arm.
"Ow!"
"I mean it. Meet me at the car at three A.M. sharp-or you'll have to bum a ride off the Albanian mob. Got it?"
"All right. I got it. Now if you'll excuse me…" At that, Heider stepped away to join the circle of men.
By 3:15 A.M., Gragg and Heider were back on the Katy Freeway heading east. Heider was leaning against the passenger door fucked up out of his mind.
"That MPEG video over the dance floor. It showed rams butting heads. Butting their heads! Their fucking heads!" He was weeping, but then suddenly erupted into uncontrollable laughter. He was apparently laughing about having just been crying.
Gragg focused on driving. He headed north and east for a half hour or so, then exited in a seedy industrial district amid rail sidings. They rattled along potholed streets. With each bone-shuddering bump, Gragg winced. The ground effects on his Si were going to get thrashed at this rate. He also felt like a prime car-jacking target in this industrial wasteland.
Yet, as he looked around the deserted factory streets, it didn't look like a popular gang hangout. The streets were too broken and crisscrossed with railroad sidings for the street-racing scene.
Before long, Gragg found the street he was looking for. He turned down the dead end and parked next to a rusted chain-link fence topped with brand-new razor wire. It enclosed flatbed tractor-trailers in various stages of decay.
At the end of the street stood a brick factory building marked INDUSTRIAL LAUNDRY CORP in faded paint. The windows near the roof glowed with fluorescent light from within, and the double doors near the loading dock were open wide, letting a wedge of light splay out across the weed-encrusted sidewalk. Signs in some Asian script covered the backs of both open doors. A couple of men in white aprons smoked out front, apparently on break.