The Madness of Well Disguised Mind

"What the Hell?" Sam barked as he made his way through the madness at the front of the station. The area around Phyllis’s desk was surrounded by young women in various states of, Sam swallowed audibly and tried to reevaluate the situation. They weren’t undressed exactly, in 2006 it would be euphemistically called alternative club wear. Oh fuck it, Sam thought. The desk was surrounded by girls in skimpy leather dresses and over the knee ‘come fuck me’ boots. Ray and Chris were mingling amongst them ‘taking names’ and leering.

"I repeat," Sam said louder. "What the Hell is going on?"

Chris looked up from taking a name and blushed. "Um, well Boss. Bit of a bust up at Mistress Simone’s last night. Bloke roughed up one of her girls and tried to knock over the safe. Didn’t go well."

"Go well?" Sam prodded.

"He’s dead Boss. Found him in a back alley a few streets down."

"So Chris," Sam dragged the DC closer to him and lowered his voice. "Why did we bring a bunch of," Sam stopped and wrinkled his nose, "prostitutes down to the station?"

"Not prozzies Boss," Ray broke in. "They’re," he turned to the young woman fingering his handcuffs. "What are you lot called again?"

"Dominatrixes," she answered with a wink. Looking at the handcuffs she smiled seductively. "Can I borrow these? They’re much shinier than my pair."

"Maybe later luv," Ray agreed and Sam could see him blush. "I’ll let you try wearing them if you really want."

"Um," the young woman looked flustered.

"Ray," Sam broke in with a smirk. "I think she was intending for you to be wearing them. Now where’s the Guv?"

"Huh?" Ray’s eyebrows raised to his hairline.

"Um, Lost and Found Boss," Chris broke in. "Waiting for you before he starts questioning Mistress Simone."

Sam hurried toward Lost and Found anxiously. Before he’d come to 1973 DCI Sam Tyler had thought that in 18 years as a police officer he had seen everything -absolutely everything. Then he walked in this morning from his week’s holiday to find a station full of dominatrixes. It’s something different every day he thought.

"Finally Tyler," Gene snapped as he turned the corner. The Guv was leaning against an outside wall and smoking. "Took you long enough Sleeping Beauty."

Sam bit his lip in frustration and lowered his head. Cautiously he looked from side to side. There was no one else in the corridor. "I’d have been here earlier if someone would have woken me up when he left for work," Sam hissed quietly.

Strong hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shoved him against the wall. The same hands that last night had, Sam felt his cock twitch and tried to derail that train of thought. They were at work, they had a dead thief, and a dominatrix waiting to be questioned about it. Now was definitely not the time.

Gene leaned close so that his lips were next to Sam’s ear. "You just looked so peaceful lying there Gladys, I just didn’t have the heart to wake you. Especially with how exhausted you were after the past week."

The past week, Sam smiled. His holiday to Hyde, he’d told everyone. Going to see some family. Girl he had a thing with. That sort of thing. In reality he’d spent the week moving his meager possessions into Gene’s house, cleaning the flat out and making himself at home. Cooking, organizing, and the greater part of his day involved coming up with new and intricate ways to honeymoon once Gene got home. His cock twitched again and Sam tried not to groan.

"Tonight," Gene whispered. "Right now we’ve got to go and talk with Simone." He dropped Sam abruptly and jerked open the door. Sam followed his DCI inside and mentally prepared himself to physically restrain the man from hitting a woman.

"Your DCI has been very impatient," a smooth voice announced. "Apparently you’re frequently tardy." Sam looked over at the petite blonde woman and watched as she looked at an expensive gold watch. "Shame," she sighed. "He’s five minutes too early."

"Thought you said I was late Guv?" Sam split a look between them.

"You are," the Guv snapped, all business now.

"If you’d have taken five minutes longer though your DCI was going to let me punish you," the woman smirked. "As angelic as you appear young man, your DCI seems to believe you need some behavior modification. Which just happens to be my specialty."

"It’s DI Tyler," Sam said as he glared irritatedly at the Guv.

"Simone Beauvais," she answered and held her hand out, palm down. When Sam glared she raised an eyebrow and returned the hand calmly to her lap.

"All right Simone," the Guv announced. "Who shot the pansy?"

"The pansy? DCI Hunt such language," she tutted. "What a naughty boy."

"Stop it," Sam growled. Simone simply smirked in reply.

"Mr. Worthram isn’t a pansy I can assure you," she said smoothly. "Quite attracted to women. Particularly my more exotic ones."

"So you know the deceased?" Sam asked.

"For quite some time. A very regular customer. Not of mine of course, he doesn’t have that kind of cash flow. Mealea punished him twice a week on a regular schedule."

"That the chink bird?" The Guv broke in and Sam grimaced.

"Cambodian," Simone answered coldly. "The woman currently in the hospital with a broken jaw and three broken ribs? Not exactly going to fly away now is she? Even if she grew wings."

Sam swallowed again and looked over at the Guv. Apparently the older man’s tactics were not going to work. Gene just stared at Sam and lit another cigarette. "So," Sam started again. "Why don’t you tell me what happened? How Miss," Sam looked at the file. "Miss Thach came to be attacked."

"Right," Simone reached over and snagged one of the Guv’s cigarette’s and lit it, inhaling deeply. "I don’t know much more than what she already told the police at the hospital. Mr. Worthram has been coming to my establishment for about 5 years now, twice a week, regular as clockwork. Wants the same thing every week just a different girl. Then Mealea starts working for me and they seem to make a good pair."

"A good pair?" Sam asked.

"Clients need a stable relationship with their dominatrix," she explained. "It’s a trust issue. If a submissive trusts their master then it’s much more pleasurable. The submissive can relax into the role play more readily and the master already knows what’s necessary for their satisfaction. Most of my clients see one particular dominatrix. Mealea happened to be Mr. Worthram’s."

"So what did this Mr. Worthram like?" The Guv interjected.

"The exact details?" Simone answered. "I can’t tell you that. In my profession," she smiled. "Discretion really is the key. I can tell you that he’s a Type A mummy’s boy."

"What’s that involve then?" Sam asked.

"Wants to be treated like a little boy who’s done bad of course. Wanted Mealea to yell at him a bit for being a bad boy and then turn him over her knee and spank him. Once that was over she’d send him to the corner and at the end of the hour she’d allow him to apologize for his behavior and lick her shoes. It followed a regular routine."

"A regular routine?" Sam asked and tried to fathom just what he’d been told. "Twice a week Mr. Worthram, first shift foreman at the Bensonhurst welding company, came in to have a woman verbally abuse him, spank him, make him stand in the corner and then lick her shoes?"

"Every Sunday and Wednesday," Simone confirmed. " Paid £500 in cash each visit and gave Mealea a £20 tip on top of that."

Sam just shook his head in disbelief. "So what happened last night then? Did something get out of hand?"

"According to Mealea," Simone answered. "Mr. Worthram had come in for their session like always, Mealea had accused him of leaving the room dirty, not picking up his clothes and being an all around lazy slob. He’s on the floor, apologizing, and she sits down, pulls him across her knee and reaches for the belt she uses on him. Next thing Mealea knows he’s up, grabbed her by the throat and he’s starting to hit her. Before she can get a yelp out he’s clobbered her with the butt of a pistol he’s brought in that she didn’t see. Goes pulling her out of the room and when the bodyguards confront him he holds her in front of him like a shield. Makes his way into the office and tries to wrench open the safe like it’s not locked. When that doesn’t happen Mealea tells me he shot the door on the safe as if that was going to help. When that didn’t work he grabs her again, drags her along behind to the front door, dumps her there and makes a run for it. We called the police and an ambulance and now we’re all on the same page."

"We took your original statement at the hospital," the Guv broke in. "What that doesn’t tell us is where you were while all this was going on."

"I was seeing a client of my own." Simone answered and sat back, exhaling. "According to what I’ve been told though Mr. Worthram was shot two to four hours after leaving. I was at the hospital with Mealea giving our statements and so was Harry, my main bodyguard while William stayed with the other girls and the police in my house. Therefore, we all have alibis."

"Who were you with?" Sam asked suddenly.

"What?" Simone replied.

"It doesn’t say who your client was," Sam answered. "Who was your client? We need to check your alibi."

"I don’t think you want to do that DI Tyler," she answered. "You seem like a bright young man and all but I really don’t think you’re acting it right now."

"I’ll worry about how bright I am thanks," Sam snapped.

"Who was your client luv?" The Guv broke in. "Just tell us and we’ll go be discreet and talk to him."

"You don’t need to know," a stern voice said from behind them and both Sam and the Guv turned to stare. "The lady has an alibi and this line of questioning is unnecessary as well as currently turning my station into utter chaos."

"Superintendent Rathbone," Sam gulped. "Sir, we’re just trying to,"

"Shut it Tyler," Rathbone warned.

Sam and the Guv turned to stare at Simone as she stood up from the table, stubbed out her cigarette and smiled at Superintendent Rathbone. Both men stood as if on leading strings. Sam noticed she whispered something in the Guv’s ear and the man blushed brightly. Giving him a smirk she sauntered over to Rathbone. "Such a good boy," she crooned. "I’ll see you tomorrow night then."

Sam could only follow the Guv dumbly as they trailed behind Rathbone and the dominatrix. Sam couldn’t believe this. He knew that A division was as crooked as they came but they were letting a murder suspect walk out the door because she was the mistress, no Sam corrected himself, the woman who routinely spanked their Detective Superintendent! This was beyond poor policing this was, Sam didn’t have the words.

Looking over he could see that Gene was chuckling. "I’m glad you think this is funny," he glared.

"Oh come on Sammy-boy," Gene laughed harder. "You know as well as I do she didn’t commit the murder. She’s got an air tight alibi. Group of prozzies work a corner just down from Simone’s. My guess is he got rough with one of those girls and tried to take her earnings. Pimp came along and did his job. We go down there, scare a few people, the killer will turn up by tea."

"So what did she whisper to you that has you believing that then?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Not a thing," Gene was laughing so hard he was leaning against the wall. "I always thought that I just wanted a clearer statement from Simone than the one DC Cartwright took last night. Hear it with my own ears. Besides I thought Chris and Ray needed a treat."

"So what did she say then?" Sam was curious now and he could see tears running down Gene’s cheeks.

"Told me," Gene gasped. "Told me that if I wanted some tips on how to teach you your place I should give her a ring. Told me she’d teach me how to discipline you free of charge."

"What?" Sam felt his eyes widen in astonishment. There were backhanders in policing, sure, but Gene had promised to stop taking them. Besides this, well this wasn’t a backhander at all!

"Only thing is," Gene was sobbing with laughter now. "Her and the girls want to watch. She seems to think you have a lovely arse in those trousers. Thought her girls would appreciate it too."

"Gene!" Sam hissed. "This is not funny!"

"Yes it is," Gene snorted and tried to regain his composure. "Besides she’s right."

"Right?" Sam countered. " I need to learn my place?"

"That too," Gene answered. "What I was talking about," he stepped behind Sam and reached out to fondle his arse. "Is that you do have an amazing arse."

"Oh," Sam answered. For once, the first time he could think of in his entire life, he had absolutely no reply for that. 

Part Two 
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