The Deal free porn video

This story contains some harsh language and extremely obtuse references to sexual situations. Persons bothered by such are advised skip this story and continue doing the thorazine shuffle... "The Deal" is Copyright 2000 by Christina Myria Kenyon, all right reserved, No-deposit/No-return, and all that legal-type junk. The Deal By Myria This guy creeped me out. Let me tell you something, that's not easy to do. In my line of work you run into a lot of freakazoids, over the years I think I've just about seen it all. But not nothing like this guy. No, he was in a class by himself. Tall and skeletal thin, he sat ramrod straight in the chair. Long, well manicured fingers wrapped around the head of an ornate walking stick that he balanced like a martial arts master. His short gray hair and leathery skin spoke of age, but the way he carried himself, the way he moved, told a different story. I don't like it when things don't match up like that. The walking stick and his tailored suit spoke of money, that was at least a story I could like. His face was overlong, intense, aristocratic. His nose gave new meaning to the phrase "hawk-like". Thin lips that I never wanted to see smiling, a carefully trimmed goatee, cheekbones you could use for chisels. His eyes were too big for his face, the creepiest thing, the way they bore into you. Those irises looked more like fire opals than anything that should be on any human being. Creep city, bigtime. I glanced around my office, half to get away from those eyes and half to collect my thoughts. Old filing cabinets, beat up desk, dusty light fixtures, a hardwood floor I kept meaning to redo. What was a guy like him doing coming to me? One way to find out. "What can I do you for?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled since my secretary had led him in. I sat up in my chair and shuffled a few papers on my desk, trying to give the impression that I didn't really care. Frankly I would have been just as happy if this guy took his business somewhere else. "I need someone found," he said. "Ah," I replied. Missing persons, figures. Might explain why he'd come to me. I hate missing persons cases, but they were what I was known for. Life is weird that way. "Who?" He reached into his jacket and brought out a five by eight photo, reaching over to set it on my desk. "Her name is Cerrina Moore, what information I have on her is printed on the back." I picked up the photo and glanced at it. Blonde woman in a red dress, stunning girl. I looked at the back. Her name, presumably old address and phone number, and date of birth were printed there in careful script. Who writes anything by hand anymore? Especially like that, more calligraphy than handwriting. I had to glance at the birthdate twice before I realized why I recognized it, apparently we were born on the same day. "Why do you need to find her?" I asked. "I'd rather not say, thank you. I just need her found as quickly as possible." "Look," I replied, leaning back in my chair, "first off the more information I have, the better chance I'll have of finding her for you. Second, I have to have something to put down for the record. If she's an ex-secretary who ran off with the petty cash, fine. But if she's an ex-girlfriend you're stalking, the police might get a little peeved with me. Ya' know?" "The authorities shan't be an issue," he said, an almost smile flitting across his lips. "Suffice it to say that she has something of mine." "Money?" "Nothing so crass. It's an item of no real value to anyone else, but of great value to me." "Okay..." This guy wasn't exactly being helpful. "Is there anything else you can tell me about her, the item, when you last saw her, anything like that?" "No, I'm afraid not. The information I have is on the back of that photograph." If I had any brains I would just tell this guy I couldn't help him. But, as usual, there was a problem. Money, I needed the job. "My fee is..." I started. "I will quadruple your normal fee," he interrupted, "money is not an issue. I simply want her found. Quickly found." He reached into his coat again and took out an envelope. "This is a retainer, it should cover your expenses for the time being." Quadruple my fee? Holy shit, was this guy for real? I grabbed the envelope and slid it into a drawer, not wanting to be so "crass" as to count it in front of him. "Okay then, I'll get right on it." "Very good," he said, rising in one fluid motion. "I shall return to check on your progress tomorrow." I hate it when they do that, I don't like being pushed. "I'll do what I can, but these things sometimes take time." "Time, Mister Man, is not a commodity I have in abundance." He turned and walked to the door, every other step punctuated by a tap of that silver-tipped cane. Nice talking to you too, bunky. +++ The detective biz is not what it used to be, assuming it ever was what it used to be. These days the reliability of your high-speed internet connect and your degree of skill with search engines counts a lot more than what kind of gun you carry. If you even carry a gun. I do, but then I'm paranoid. I ran a quick search in a regular site just for shits and grins. Hey, you never know, sometimes you get lucky. This time I did, there were a couple of hundred hits right off the bat. Glancing down the listings, I was a little surprised. I shouldn't have been, but I was. A Cerrina Moore had apparently been a centerfold in a couple of different men's magazines, seemed to have an ardent following. I glanced over at the picture the creepazoid had given me. Yeah, with that face and that body she was definitely centerfold material. Still, was it the same girl? Of course all of the pictures were at pay sites. Figures. I never have gotten the whole nudie thing, just doesn't do anything for me. Why porno is so popular on the 'net is a mystery to me. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes to find a fake access code for one of the pay sites and bring up a picture of this Cerrina Moore. Yeah, it was the same girl, looking even better with a little airbrush than she did in the other pic. Kittenish smile, she looked almost hesitant, almost frightened. Odd, considering she was willing to bare all. The photo was from a November issue, fairly recent. Pic was probably taken earlier though. I sent a copy to the printer to add to the file and started a meta-search. There had to be something more useful out there than nudie pics of her. I idly wondered if creapazoid knew his girl there had been posing nude. Probably did, god knows he hadn't been willing to tell me diddly. Odd, that, most people can't wait to unload their story of woe. But then everything was odd about this one. +++ Even a computer can't take the place of pounding pavement and the meta-search was going to take a while to filter through things. The address the creepazoid had given me was halfway across the city, not a great part of town but not bad either. A mission style apartment complex that looked like something out of Three's Company, probably built sometime in the early seventies and in serious need of a new stucco job. I found the apartment manager's door and knocked. Three knocks and ten minutes later, someone finally answered. Tall heavy-set guy with a beer belly the size of Anaheim. No one had informed him that the three day's growth look was out and he smelled like he'd already started on his nightly one armed beer curls. "Hi!" I said, giving him my friendliest smile. "I'm Derek Man with Lowell Mutual Insurance Company and I'm trying to find one of your old tenants. A Miss Cerrina Moore?" "Who?" The genius asked me. I took out the picture and showed it to him. "Miss Cerrina Moore?" "Oh, the blonde bimbo. She ain't lived here in a while." No shit, Sherlock. "We are aware of that, but we need to get into contact with her. Do you by any chance have a forwarding address for her?" "Nah, she didn't tell no one where she was goin'. Kinda left real sudden like. Maybe six months ago? Maybe a year, I dunno, something like that." Oh, great. "Do you know anything about her acquaintances, friends, family, someone who might know where she is?" "Don't think she had any family, wasn't much on friends either. I dunno, she wasn't very friendly with me." I wonder why. "Do you know where she was working? My friendly smile was getting a tad thin. "A bank or something, I think." Great, there had to be fifteen or twenty banks within a ten-mile radius. "Any idea which one?" "Nah. Like I said, we wasn't tight or anything." "Any chance you could show me whatever records you have on her? Maybe a canceled check or something?" "I dunno, I shouldn't really be doin' that ya' know..." "It would be very helpful if you could. I'm sure she wouldn't mind, she stands to receive a substantial amount of money, but only if we can locate her." "Money?" His eyes perked at that. "Yes, a relative of hers who had a life insurance policy with our company died, she is the beneficiary." Like it would ever occur to this dipstick that the last thing on earth an insurance company is going to do is go looking for someone they had to pay money to. "I dunno, I could still get in trouble." I was getting seriously tired of dealing with this bozo. I took out three twenties and handed them too him. "Perhaps this would compensate you for your trouble?" He stared at the money for a second and I could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out how many cases of Bud he could get with that. "Yeah, sure, you're trying to help her anyway. Hold on a sec and I'll see what I can find." I waited as he walked back into his dim apartment, trying not to imagine what his filing system was probably like. A good fifteen minutes later he came waddling back out and handed me a piece of paper. "Here's a check of hers from when she lived here, that help?" I glanced down at the check, somewhat amazed that he'd gotten the right one. Bank of America, at least that narrowed things down. If she worked at a bank it was a sure bet she'd have her account there. "Yes, thank you, that helps a lot." +++ The meta-search hadn't turned up much. Given the way this case was going, I really hadn't expected it to. There was another address that predated the one I had, a buttload of references to her centerfold appearances, a couple of references to other women with the same name, not a whole lot else. I'd have to check out the other address, but I was virtually certain it would be a dead end. The only other interesting thing I could garner from the search was that her centerfold appearances had all been relatively recent and she hadn't been in anything since November. Made me wonder if she'd perhaps needed money quickly, it didn't seem like this had been a career for her. It only took me a couple of minutes to break into the phone company's records computer and look up her phone number - God knows I'd done it enough times. Her phone had been shut off December of last year, apparently it hadn't been the six months or a year since she'd moved, as Bluto had thought, more like three months. There wasn't a more recent listing for her so either she'd moved completely out of the area, didn't have a phone, or was using another name. It took quite a lot longer to break into the bank's mainframe, it was dark and I was hungry long before I was done. I couldn't find any personnel listings, hadn't really expected to. Likely those were on an internal system. I did find her account records, though. The account had been closed right around the same time the phone had been shut off, at the time there had been a bit over two hundred thou in it. Not a huge amount of money, but respectable. There had been a number of relatively large deposits in the six months before the account was closed, centerfold money? Hard to say for sure, I didn't know how much that sort of thing paid. I did a quick search for the Bank of America closest to her old apartment, printed out directions, and headed off for some dinner. The bank would be my first stop in the morning, but it didn't look promising. +++ I've always hated that banks open so late. They've got your money, what do they care if you have to wait? Most people do everything by magic money machine, of course, but that wasn't the point. And where did banks get off charging you for that, anyway? The whole damn thing was a big racket. This branch of the bank took up half of the first floor in an office building. Noticing the well dressed and invariably beautiful women working there, I could see how Miss Moore would have probably fit right in. If memory served, though, bank tellers didn't make squat. How they were paying their dry cleaning bills, let alone buying expensive nice looking clothes, was another of life's mysteries. I looked around and found the bank manager's desk. No one there, so I walked over and sat down anyway. A minute later a woman came over, smiled at me, and sat behind the desk. Short, red hair, inviting eyes, nice looking outfit. Pretty, if just a hair past her prime. I wondered if they had a policy against hiring ugly people. "May I help you?" She asked in an ingratiatingly sing-song voice. "Yes," I replied, smiling back, "I'm trying to find one of your employees, Cerrina Moore?" "Why are you trying to find her?" The woman asked, obviously a little suspicious. "There's been a bit of a family emergency. You see, I'm her brother." The woman raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. "Oh? I wasn't aware Cerrina had any family. You do bare an uncanny resemblance to her though." I do? "Yes, everyone always says that. Anyway, we kind of fell out of touch a while back and now I need to find her." "Unfortunately I can't really help you. Cerrina quit here about four months ago. Too bad, really, she was one of my best people." "Did she leave a forwarding address or anything like that?" "No, I'm afraid not. It was all very sudden, really, none of us had any idea she was leaving until the day she quit. Left me in something of a bind, but I forgive her. She was always such a sweetie, real quiet girl who always got everything done. I'm sorry, but I can't really help you." "She didn't tell anyone where she was going?" "Not as far as I know. I could ask around if you like, see if she said anything to any of the other girls." "I would greatly appreciate that." I wrote down my cell phone number and handed it to her. I tried to think of any other questions I could ask that wouldn't be apt to arouse suspicion, but came up blank. "Thank you," I said, standing, "you've been very helpful. "No problem. And, please, when you find her tell her we all miss her, would you?" "Sure." +++ I got in the car and turned the rearview mirror towards myself. Striking resemblance? We had the same hair colour, sure, but... I glanced at her picture. Okay, I could see it a little. Similar mouth, nose, eyes. Especially eyes. But still, not what I would call striking. I shrugged and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to the office. People see what they expect to see. +++ Madeline wasn't at her desk when I got in. Figured, dammit, lately it seemed like she was hardly ever around. She was probably off getting her nails done or something. My office door was open and he was in there. Creepazoid man, sitting in the chair ramrod straight just like he had been the day before. "Good morning, Mister Man," he said in greeting, barely glancing my way. "Did Madeline let you in here?" I asked a bit peevishly. I didn't like having my office invaded like that. "Whom?" "Madeline, my secretary." "You do not have a secretary, Mister Man." "Of course I do, she showed you in yesterday." "I recall seeing no such person." I shrugged, whatever. Old guy's memory must be going. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot to report on your case yet." "Tell me what you have discovered so far." No please? What was I thinking? "I've checked out her apartment, phone records, bank records, and previous place of appointment. Somewhere between three and four months ago she appears to have rather hurriedly moved without leaving any forwarding address with anyone." "This much I already knew." "Did you know that prior to that she had been posing for men's magazines?" I asked a bit smugly. "I did not, but it does not surprise me. Miss Moore was always very proud of her appearance. With good reason." With good reason? Interesting, not that I would disagree. "It is somewhat unusual behavior in so much as it seems to have been something she did over a very limited period of time." "And what can you deduce from that?" "Not much that helps with this case," I admitted. "At the moment I'm somewhat at a loss for leads. Do you know if she maybe moved out of this area entirely?" "I am quite sure she did not." He didn't know where she was, but he was sure she was in the area? This was really stinking. "Okay, well I'll continue to dig and see what I can come up with." "I would suggest contacting the people she was posing for," he said, then stood. "I will leave you to your work, Mister Man. Keep in mind that my time is limited and I need results quickly." He turned and left, closing the door behind him. Sure thing, bunky. I really, really didn't like that guy. +++ "Yeah, I remember her. Was sorry to see her go. Beautiful fucking girl, could have gotten her as much work as she wanted. Coulda gone bigtime with that bod. Shy, though, wouldn't do crotch shots. Too bad, I would have loved to see that pussy. Bet she's a natural blonde." I tried not to groan in disgust. It turned out that Cerrina had been doing her porno work through an agent. A sleazeball in a white satin shirt and way too much gold. Lived in an over-expensive place in the foothills. The kind of place where you maybe don't shed a tear when you see it sliding down the hillside on the six o'clock news. Sleazy had been only too happy to see me when I'd mentioned Cerrina's name. "Sorry, man," Sleazy said after a second, "didn't mean to freak you. You're her brother, huh?" "Yes, I am." "I could tell when I saw you. Trippy, you two look so alike. Too bad you don't have her tits." Sleazy laughed, too loud, too hearty, too fake. "You two twins or something?" "No," I said. This whole thing with people telling me I looked like her was starting to bother me a little. "Just brother and sister." Sleazy nodded. "Well I don't know how much I can help you, dude, she didn't exactly tell me where she was going either. Christ, I have to answer her fan mail myself. Sign her name to it, of course." I had to laugh at the mental image of some horny geek getting a letter supposedly from a beautiful blonde that was really written by this pond scum. "Can you tell me anything about how she was before she disappeared?" "Well she only worked for like six months or something, did three mags and like eight spreads. Does that bug you?" "What?" "Your sister spreading her goods." "A little," I said with a shrug. "She always surprised me too. Just wasn't the type. I mean she had the looks, serious hotty material, but she just wasn't the type. You need some serious ego in this business, can't give a flying fuck what anyone thinks or says. She was more like a scared little girl. Came through nice in her spreads, though. You can't fake something like that." "How did you meet her?" "Friend of a friend thing, how do you think anything works in this biz? She contacted me; really, I just scooped her up before anyone else could get her. She said she needed some fast money but would only do a few spreads and then that was it. Thought I could talk her into more, turned out I was wrong." "Did she say what she needed the money for?" "Normally I'd say a feeder, but that wasn't it." "Feeder?" "Yeah, feeding a habit. Your sis wasn't no skank, though, not a mark on her. If she was doing anything it was pretty mellow." "So she didn't say?" "A few vague things. One night she talked about being in some kind of trouble. I kinda blew it off 'cause she was drunk, ya' know? People say all kinds of shit things when they're drunk." "What did she say?" "Eh, she talked about some guy being out to get her, wanted something from her." "Did she say what?" "Yeah, her soul!" Sleazy laughed. "You're kidding?" "No, and she was dead ass serious. Said some guy was trying to get her soul and she had to get away. I dunno, maybe she was in a cult or something?" "Maybe. She didn't tell you where she was going, leave any kind of address?" "No, nothing. When she got her last check that was the last I saw of her. That was like two or three months ago. I dunno, maybe more, I'd have to look it up." "Is there anyone else you know who might know anything? Anyone she was close to?" "I dunno, Carol maybe." "Carol?" "Yeah, Carol Man, one of my girls. Brunette, really tall and thin. They were kind of tight, did a spread together." For some reason I shuddered at the thought. "Any chance you could give me her phone number?" "I dunno, I really shouldn't... Eh, what the hell. You don't seem like the type to harass the girls." "No, I'm just trying to find my sister." "Give me your number and I'll have her call you." "I would greatly appreciate it," I said, writing down my cell number and giving it to him. "No problem, kid. Hey, family's important, I hope you find your sis." "Thanks," I said, standing. "You know, we need guys too, you could do good with your looks. Ever think about it?" "No," I said, shaking my head, "I don't think so." "Your loss, let me know if you ever change your mind. Same for your sis." I don't fucking think so. +++ I had my doubts that Sleazebag was going to get around to having this Carol chick call me anytime soon, but I was wrong. I had barely stuck her name into a meta-search before my cell phone started ringing. "Hello?" I said, careful not to give my name since I didn't know who they'd be looking for. "Is this Cerrina's brother?" A woman's voice asked. Had to be either the woman from the bank or Carol. "Yes, this is Derek Moore." Funny how easy it gets to lie like that. "Hi, I'm Carol, Johnny asked me to call you." "Thank you for calling, it's kind of important." "You're looking for Cerrina?" "Yes." "Is she in trouble?" "I'm not sure, that's why I'm trying to find her." "Damn, I knew that girl was in deep." "Look," I said, "is there any chance we can get together? I need to ask you a few questions, it's really important that I find her." "I guess, Johnny said you were cool. You doing anything right now?" "No, where would you like to meet?" "You know where the Bop Shop is down by the pier?" "Sure." "Give me an hour and I'll meet you there." +++ The Bop Shop was a trendy bar and dance place down by the beach. This time of early afternoon it was nearly empty. I glanced around, it would have helped if she had told me what she'd be wearing. Tall, thin, and brunette wasn't much of a description to go by. Especially in a place like this. "You must be Derek." A woman's voice said behind me. I turned, startled. Jesus, tall didn't begin to cover it. Even without the four inch spiked heels she wore, she would have towered over me. Not that I'm exactly tall, admittedly I'm kind of short, but still. She was a pretty woman, if rather tired looking. Bags under her eyes didn't do her any favors. Too tall, too thin for my tastes. Too much make-up. Sexy outfit, though, without being too obvious. Or maybe just obvious enough. "Yes, that's me," I replied, trying to smile. "Couldn't mistake you. Johnny said you looked like her, but fuck... A little longer hair, some make-up..." She shook her head. "Trippy!" "Yeah," I said a little unhappily, "I get that a lot." "I bet, you wonna sit down?" "Sure." We found a table and sat down, she ordered a rum and coke, I ordered a coke. "So were you and Cerrina close?" I asked. "Kind of, as close as she let anyone get. I kind of had a thing for her, you know?" She shrugged. "I'm bi, helps in my kind of work. She's not, but I guess your probably figured that." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say all that. I mean you're her brother." "It's okay." "Guess you probably didn't know about this before? The mags and stuff." "No, not really." "Well your sister is a great girl, don't ever think different because of this." "I don't." "Good, there's nothing wrong with it. Such a pretty girl, I hate to think of her being in trouble." "Did she tell you what sort of trouble she was in?" I asked hopefully. "A little, bits and pieces." "Like?" "Someone was out to get her, bigtime. Like chasing her. She said she didn't have much time, that's why she was doing the jobs, you know? Had to get money to get away." "Do you know who was out to get her, why they wanted to get her?" "I don't know who he is, just that it was part of some kind of deal." "Deal?" "Yeah, she said she made some sort of deal and this guy was after her to try and collect." "What sort of deal? Money? Drugs? Something like that?" "No, nothing like that I don't think. She would say what the deal was, but she was scared. Really scared, I've never seen anyone that scared." "Your boss said something about a cult?" "A cult? Johnny is full of shit, Cerrina wasn't in any cult." "But she did say something about her soul?" "Yeah, one night after a shoot we were all drinking and she said she was going to lose her soul." "You think she was just drunk?" "No." "Huh?" "She was serious, Derek, really serious." "So she believed someone was going to steal her soul?" Great, a serious fruitloop. Why me? "That might be enough to make someone want to run away." "That's exactly what she said she was going to do." "Any idea where she was going?" "No, she wouldn't tell me, said it wasn't safe. But she wasn't going far, she said that much." "Why not?" "No idea, if I was that scared I'd be moving to Rio or something. She just said she couldn't." "So what good would going away do if she wasn't going far?" "She said she was going to change her life, disappear. Dumb, if you ask me." "Why do you say that?" "She could cut her hair, dye it, wear different clothes, whatever. She'd still have that body, those looks, she'd still stick out in a crowd. Someone would figure it out, especially after her pics came out. I'm surprised I haven't heard where she is from someone, word spreads fast." "But you haven't heard anything?" "No, not a word." "Is there anyone else she was close to, anyone who might know where she is?" "She had a boyfriend, Larry." She smiled. "We always called him Larry the lawyer. But he won't help you." "Why not?" "He's still pissed at the way she dumped him, still goes into a fury if anyone says her name. You get around him and he'd probably punch out your lights, especially the way you look like her. You really don't want to deal with Larry." "Do you know his last name?" "Yeah, Denkins. Or maybe it's Jenkins. Can't remember, but it's something like that." Something like that? Great. "Is there anything else you can tell me?" She thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. "No, not really." "Okay, well thanks for your help, it means a lot to me." "Sure, I really hope you find her." "Thanks." "And if you find her... Tell her I miss her." "Sure." +++ I wiped the meta-search on Carol Man, I already knew more about her than I wanted to. I took the bottle of gin out of the cabinet and poured myself a drink, sitting back down I leaned back in my chair. Let's see... I'm working for a creepy old guy I can't stand and who's name, I belatedly realized, I didn't even know. Cash is convenient that way. I was searching, without knowing why, for a beautiful blonde who was quite probably off her rocker and possibly involved in a cult. A blonde who everyone seemed to be convinced was in the area still when logic would say she'd be on the East Coast or something by now. A blonde who might not even be a blonde now. Might have dyed her hair, might have cut it, might have otherwise changed her looks to try and avoid someone or someones she thought were trying to steal her soul. A blonde who everyone thought I looked scarily like, which wasn't exactly doing great things for my ego. Not to mention that I didn't have one single solitary hard lead as to where exactly she might be. I had exactly zip, and that wasn't doing wonders for my ego either. There was too much here I didn't like, too much that didn't add up. Why did that creepy old man want this girl, anyway? What did he know about her that he wasn't telling me? What was Cerrina really running away from? There were too many coincidences. What are the chances someone would walk into my office and ask me to find a girl who apparently looks like my twin sister? Especially when I don't have any siblings? What are the chances her best friend would have the same last name I do when it's not exactly a common name? I closed my eyes and tried to form a mental picture of this case, a kind of mental map of how the facts fit together. It's an old trick, one that usually works pretty well for me, but in this case I didn't like what I was seeing. I didn't like the gapping holes in what I knew, I didn't like the directions things I did know were pointing. And somehow I had my serious doubts that my employer was the good guy in any of this. "Have you started to figure it out yet, Mister Man?" I sat up, my eyes opening in surprise. He was there, sitting in the chair as though he'd been there for hours. I was somewhat less shocked than I should have been. "How did you get in here?" I demanded, I know I had locked the door. "I really wish there had been more time, it's been amusing to watch you flail about. Amusing, and necessary. It would have been better if you had been given the time to figure it all out on your own, but unfortunately it took me too long to find a way into your world. I think that you have enough now to start to understand." "Understand what? That this has all been some bullshit story you cooked up?" "And why do you say that?" "Because none of it adds up and I don't believe in coincidences. I'm not even entirely convinced that this Cerrina Moore exists, that this wasn't some elaborate hoax you cooked up for some bizarre reason." "Oh she is real, Mister Man, I assure you of that. A lot more real than this fantasy you are living." "Fantasy? Tell that to my landlord when he comes to collect the rent." "There is no landlord, there is no rent, there is no secretary. This is all a fantasy you concocted, Mister Man." "You're insane, old man," I said with a snort. "Am I? How long have you been a private detective?" "Almost eight years," I said proudly. "Eight years? And how old are you again?" "Twenty-four." "And that doesn't seem odd to you?" "No," I said, "why would it?" "Do the math. Or, better yet, look at your license or your lease. You have been a private detective for just over four months, Mister Man." "Bullshit." "It is true. Four months ago you were a bank teller." "I've never worked in a bank in my life!" "Haven't you? What is today, Mister Man?" "It's Wednesday, why?" "There isn't any other significance to the day?" I shrugged. "It's my birthday, not that I care." "So you're actually twenty-five?" "Yeah, I guess." "That is very significant to me. Is it not also someone else's birthday?" I thought for a second. "Cerrina Moore!" I'd forgotten all about that. "You are starting to catch on." "We have the same birthday, so what?" "Do I really have to list the coincidences between you and that young lady? I think not. As you have still not yet discerned the truth, let me tell you a story while we've still time." "Time?" "The day is almost done, Mister Man." I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was twenty to midnight. I hadn't realized it was so late. "Okay, it's your dime, tell your story." The creepy old man smiled. I was right, that wasn't a sight I ever wanted to see. "There was once this boy whom God, as is his wont, had played a particularly nasty trick on. I have no idea why the supreme being sees fit to curse some of his creations in various ways, but then I do not understand why all of creation does not curse him as I do either. In the end, it does not matter." "I don't believe in God." "You should, Mister Man, you should. In any event, this particular little boy was cursed with being a girl on the inside, in his head where we all truly live. This distressed him greatly, for reasons that I hopefully do not need to explain, and when he was fifteen years old he cried out to me. Now I hear cries and promises from you humans all of the time, the din of your pathetic wishes grates on my ears. I ignore almost all of you, your needs and wishes matter not to me and your promises are as nothing. But sometimes there is one that is different, and this boy was one such. There was a sincerity rare among your kind, a purity of desire and belief, a willingness to walk into the abyss. Normally I would have ignored even him, likely he would have come to me anyway, but there was something about him. I wanted him sooner rather than later. I went to him and he quite willingly made a deal with me. Do you now what that deal was?" "I don't have a clue," I said, glancing at the clock again. "The deal was that I would give him ten years of happiness. Ten years to be the person he should have been, ten years to be a girl and then a woman instead of a miserable boy becoming a more miserable man. The price was his soul, or I should say her soul. At the end of the ten years it would be mine." "So you're saying you're the devil?" "Something like that, yes." "Why are you telling me all of this?" "That boy became a girl, as per our contract. Her name was Cerrina Moore." "So that was why you were looking for her, to collect her soul?" "I was not looking for her, Mister Man, I know precisely where she is. I was looking for you to discover yourself." "I don't follow." "Let me continue. Cerrina Moore was a very happy teenager, disgustingly so if you ask me. And she became a happy young adult, living a normal life despite the great beauty I had graciously given her. Had she had more time I'm sure she would have married, had children, done all of those things young women are wont to do. But her time was limited, and she was abundantly aware of this. As the time for our deal to come due grew closer she started to become more and more paranoid. She got it into her silly little head that she could escape her fate, escape me, and she made plans to try and do just that." "That's why she needed the money?" "Yes, quite. She was rather clever in her planning, I must admit, but it never would have worked. Unfortunately for her, and for me in a way, she misunderstood our contract. You see the deal ended on her twenty-fifth birthday, but it came due ten years to the day we had first made the deal which was several months before. She either had forgotten about or never understood the latter condition, her plans were based on her birthday. When I appeared on the properly appointed day she went quite insane." "Insane?" "Yes, insane. You might call it catatonia. I frankly would not care if she was sane or insane, it does not matter for my purposes, but in this instance she happened to go insane in a manner that was most inconvenient." "Bummer for you." "Annoying, but not terminal. In her catatonia she created a fantasy world in her mind. In that fantasy world she was again male, thus violating the conditions of our deal and putting my collection of what was rightfully mine at some risk." "I still don't get what this has to do with me. I haven't found the woman you're looking for." "Of course you haven't, you haven't been looking in the correct place." "And that would be?" "The mirror. Miss Moore created a fantasy world in which she was a private detective named Derek Man." "You're saying I'm really Cerrina Moore?" "Yes, I am. As hiding places go, it was really quite a clever one. It took me far too long to find a way into this world of yours. It almost worked, but no one beats me. No one, ever." "You are truly one whacked old dude." "Am I? I am quite sure you know the truth of it now. You've been trying hard to ignore the internal inconsistencies in your little fantasy world, but you can't now that they've been pointed out to you. And now it's time to remove some of the fantasy from this world of yours." One moment I was sitting behind my desk, the next I was standing and my desk was gone. In its place was a full-length mirror, and staring back at me in the mirror was Cerrina Moore. That same long blonde hair, the oversized bustline, that same red dress, just like in the picture. "Now you know the truth of it, Miss Moore, you can no longer hide in your fantasy world. The conditions of our deal have been restored and I can take your soul here as easily as in the real world. In actuality you have made my task somewhat easier. You gave me a merry chase, far better than most have ever managed, but it is time to pay the piper." I sighed. It was so odd being back to myself. Wonderful, yes, but I felt out of place here in this office with my memories split between being Cerrina and being Derek. Much better to be myself again, but I would be very happy to be out of here finally. "My patience grows thin, Miss Moore, even if I do enjoy vanity. It will go much easier if you do not force me to take what is mine." "Oh, I wasn't being vain, I was just making sure." "Of what, pray tell?" "That it was no longer my birthday." "What?" I pointed to the clock. "It's past midnight, it's no longer my birthday. Our deal is finished." "That cannot be!" "This is my fantasy world, remember? In the end it is what I make it. I had an idea what was going on when you showed up here tonight. I didn't know it all, granted, but I guessed enough to know I would need some advantages." "It does not matter what your fantasy clock says the time is, what matters is the time in the real world where our deal was made." "Well I'm not sure if that's true or not, but it doesn't matter. In the real world it is past midnight, it isn't my birthday anymore. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. I set the clock back twenty minutes when you came in and you talk way, way too much." "I will take your soul anyway, wretch." "I don't think so." "Then I will return you to your hated male form." "No, I don't think you'll do that either. Our deal is ended, you don't have any more power over me. You lose, sweetie." I knew I was pushing my luck, but I couldn't help it and I had to know for sure. "No one beats me, woman, no one. In the end you will be mine." "Maybe, but not, I think, today. And me, I'll take what I can get. Now begone unless you want to get stuck here." He screamed something incomprehensible and then suddenly I had a vision of something so horrible I could never begin to describe it. A blinding white hot pain shot through my head, knocking me to my knees, and suddenly the floor was gone, I was falling through an endless abyss. "Remember me in your nightmares, human bitch," his disembodied voice screamed at me. I was sure I would. +++ The sunlight streaming in through the windows hurt my eyes. I was laying in what I guessed was a hospital bed with an IV in my arm and another tube further south that I really didn't want to think about. I wondered how long I'd been lying there like that, but figured I probably had a pretty good idea. It took me a second to find the call button, and I was rather distressed by how weak I felt. The nurse that showed up was amazed, even shocked, to see me conscious. She must have been on the ball, though, my best friend and my fiance showed up with amazing rapidity. I gave Carol a hug and Larry a kiss, so happy to see them, the real them, and barely had any time for their torrent of questions before a doctor showed up. "So how am I, doc?" I asked him after he'd given me the once over. "You've lost some weight and you'll probably feel weak for a little while, but all in all you're no worse for wear. I have to confess I'm a bit at a loss to explain either your illness or your recovery." "How do you feel?" Carol asked me. I thought about it for a second and then smiled. "Like I just beat the devil..." Fin Copyright 2000 By Christina Myria Kenyon