Title: Hide and Seek (Parts 1-2 of 9)


"Hello." Tara's voice slurred as she spoke into the handset
of the AT&T phone that sat on her bedside table.  Moments
earlier she had been welcoming in her day off by sleeping
soundly through the early morning hours.  The irritation in
her voice was covered only slightly by her groggy stupor.

A stern, monotone voice replied, "Tara, what I am about to
tell you is no joke.  It is very real and deadly serious.  You
are to listen to what I say without interruption or Wayne
will suffer because of it.  Do you understand?"

Her mind could not grasp the statement it had just heard.
"What...wha...who is this?"

"Tara, what this is, is a chance for you to save your
husband a lot of pain by cooperation.  Who I am is of no
concern of yours.  All you need to know is that I have your
husband here with me.  He is ok and is in no immediate
danger.  That will remain true as long as you cooperate.
Are you ready to listen, yet?"

"What have you done to my husband . . . who do you think
you are. Let him go! I'm calling the police..."

In the background Tara her husband voice as it cried out in
pain.  "Wayne!! What's going on??"

The voice picked up again, "Tara, that sound was Wayne in
a state of, shall we say, mild discomfort.  You will not be
calling anyone - not the police, no family or friends - or
your husband will be hurting a lot more in the near future."

"Ok, ok . . . I'm sorry just please don't hurt him again. I'll
do whatever you want.  Just don't hurt him any more."

"Good, that's better, Tara.  Now that you are ready to
listen, let me tell you what is about to happen.  First, again I
have your husband and will continue to hold him until our
little game is over.  Second, I expect your full cooperation
at all times.  Any deviation for the task that you have to do
will result in Wayne's being tortured.  Third, you will be
under observation the whole time.  If you attempt to make
any contact with anyone not involved in the game, I will
end the game and you will never see your husband again.
Are you clear on all of those details?  I want a simple yes or
no from you."

"Yes"

"Good.  Then here is how this game is going to work.  I
will provide you with clues on where Wayne and I are.
You must guess your husband's location.  Each time you
guess incorrectly I will provide you with one more clue.
However, to earn the next clue, you will have to complete a
challenge that I assign to you.  Once completed you will get
another clue and be able to guess again.  We keep playing
until he is found.  Do you understand?"

"I think so.  But what kind of tasks will I have to do?"

"The tasks will be whatever I decide.  No limits and no
promises, other than to say that the longer the game goes on
the more challenging the tasks will become.  Now, are you
ready for your first clue?"

"Yes sir, I am."

"Here it is:  'landmark'."

"That's not fair.  You haven't told me anything.  Are their
any boundaries?  I don't know what city or state it's in.  Is it
even in the country?"

"Sorry, no explanation of the clues.  They are what they
are.  Just keep playing and pay attention and as the game
goes along they will point you right to us.  The better you
are at solving the riddle, the sooner this will all end.  So,
what is your guess?"

"I don't know.... a landmark.... I don't know.... All I can
think of is the Statue of Liberty."

"I am so sorry.  We are not at the Statue of Liberty.  But
that was a good start for you.  Now, to earn another clue,
you must complete my first task for you.  Go outside and
look on the windshield of your car.  You will find an
envelope containing the directions to the location of your
first challenge.  Follow the directions of the individual that
greets you there.  Tell that person nothing about this game.
He/She knows only what is needed to fulfill his/her role.
Once you have completed the task at that location, I will
contact you with your next clue.  You have one hour to
arrive at the assigned location.  Goodbye."

The line went dead.  Tara slipped on her robe as she sprang
from the bed and on shaky legs stumbled her way out of the
bed and down the stairs to the front door.  When she
opened the door she saw the promised package under the
driver's side wiper of her blue Volkswagen Jetta.  Her eyes
scanned the document and realized her destination was in
the Buckhead region of metro-Atlanta.  From her suburban
home, it was easily a 40-minute drive. But it was Atlanta.
Traffic was always un-predictable.  Any hint of bad luck
and her trip could be over the allotted hour in an instant.
She had to hurry.

52 minutes later, Tara pulled into the parking lot of
Headshots Studio.  The owner of the establishment opened
the door as she approached.

"You must be Tara."  She pensively nodded in
acknowledgment.

"Great my name is Michael Romeo.  I'm set up and ready
to get going.  Someone must really want some portraits of
you.  The studio is all yours.  Just go into the back there.
Angie, my stylist is waiting for you.  She's got all the
outfits you'll be wearing.  Take your time getting ready and
I'll be out here when you're done."

Michael directed Tara to the rear.  As she entered the back
room, he locked the front door and closed the blinds.

Michael's assistant was a young redhead.  She was actually
rather plain looking with an average build.  Aside from her
brilliant red hair, there was little to make her stand out in
any crowd.  Tara smirked at the irony of such a woman in
charge of styling at such an exclusive studio.  Angie went
right to work on Tara.  She had left the house in such a rush
earlier, that her hair and make-up went untouched after her
long sleep.

As Angie pampered Tara from head to toe, she finally had a
moment to contemplate her situation.  She had gone to
sleep the night before with so few troubles.  Her life with
Wayne was not perfect, but their relationship was fulfilling.
As far as she knew, they had no enemies.  Who could want
to do this to them?  For that question, she had no answer.
She did not know what their tormentor wanted out of this
game.  The unknown was terrifying.

What she did know is that she was about to be posing for a
photographer.  Michael had said there were outfits to be
worn.  That meant changing clothes, which meant she was
likely posing for several portraits.  But why would someone
want pictures of her?

"There, all done honey."  Angie had completed her work
while Tara had sat lost in thought.  Tara's long brown hair
flowed smoothly down her neck and came to rest just
below her shoulders.  Her face sparkled from the heavy
make-up her stylist had applied.  It was much more than
Tara would have worn on her own.  She had the appearance
of a woman very much trying to attract the attention of a
man - any man.

"Let's get you dressed."  Angie took Tara by the hand over
to the clothing rack.  For the first time, Tara felt
uncomfortable about the photo shoot.  The outfits, such as
they were, were all lingerie.  A dozen combinations
covered nearly all the spectrum of intimate wear. From a
simple plain chemise to lace teddies to leather and satin
bustiers, every style was present.

The frozen bride stared at the rack while Angie went to
work.  Tara's shirt slid quickly over her head and soon
afterward her bra fell to the floor.  In quick order, Angie
removed the clothing below Tara's waist and she stood
naked, and still motionless.

At 35, Tara could still turn a man's head without trying.
No, she didn't have the same body that she did at 18.  What
woman does - especially after giving birth to three
children?  But she was still a striking woman.  Her frame
concealed the few extra pounds to the point of making them
meaningless. Her large d-cup breasts still swelled proudly
out for her compact torso.  Even her rounded ass still
maintained a desirable apple shape.  No she wasn't 18 --
she was 35.  That meant her sensuality didn't begin with
her skin and jump out after men.  It meant that her appeal
resided deep within.  She had a comfort and confidence in
her own person that radiated from her clear brown eyes.
Tara was the kind of woman that men of all ages still
craved.  Her charms were all the more compelling because
of how unaware she was of her own beauty.  She may not
have understood why anyone would want pictures of her,
but most any man who met her did.


"You are a beautiful creature there, aren't you,"
commented Angie as she grabbed the first outfit.  Tara was
indeed a beautiful creature

"There, you're all ready now."  Angie completed dressing
Tara in the first outfit.  Tara had been decorated in a white
beaded lace halter teddy.  She looked every bit like a new
bride offering herself to her new man on their wedding
night.

"Wow, baby you look delicious," came Michael's
compliment as Tara entered the shooting area.  A bed was
centered on the stage between the strong studio lights.
Michael directed Tara to the bed.  He set to adjusting the
lighting and his cameras, while Angie make some final
touch-ups to Tara's hair and make-up.

"Just relax and follow my lead.  Your benefactor for the
evening told me to make sure you looked like you were
enjoying yourself."

For the next two hours, Tara posed in hundreds of positions
and went through the entire rack of revealing outfits.  When
the last shuddered closed, not much of Tara's body was left
to the imagination.  It had technically been covered the
whole time.  But the intense lights and high-resolution of
the camera peered through the sheer lingerie shot after shot.

As Tara returned to the rear to gather her clothing, she
discovered her sandals were gone.  Angie appeared with
her new footwear.  Tara was given a pair of red stiletto
heeled mules.

"We were told to replace your shoes with these when you
left."  Handing the 4-inch heels to Tara, Angie parted with
a "good luck."

Tara returned to the front to find Michael waiting.  He
handed her a CD-ROM of her pictures and disposable cell
phone.  She was ushered out the door and Michael returned
inside without saying a word and locked the door.

Part 2

Tara stumbled on the elevated footwear at the startling
sound of her new phone ringing.

"Hello," her hesitant voice cracked into the handset.

"Very well done, my pet.    Now that you are all dolled-up,
are you ready for your next clue?"

"Yes sir, what is it?"

"Your next clue is: 'west'.  Give me your answer when
ready."

After a quick moment to consider landmarks out west, she
narrowed her choice down to one, "I guess the Golden Gate
Bridge."

There was a brief pause over the connection.  It lifted
Tara's spirits until the voice crushed them with his answer,
"Oooooooo, I'm so sorry we are not at the Golden Gate
Bridge, baby.  Looks like you are going to need another
clue.  Go to your car and again, you will find an envelope
containing the directions to your next stop.  Go to the back
door and ask for Rita.  Follow her instructions to the letter
and you will receive your next hint."

Once at her car, Tara opened the second envelope.  The
directions kept her inside the I-285 perimeter that surrounds
metro-Atlanta and she only had to drive a few miles.  Her
blue Jetta arrived at the back entrance of the location of her
new challenge.  She had never been there but the shower of
neon lights lining the roof and the establishments' name,
'Doll House,' left no doubt about its line of business.

Tara felt her throat tighten and her stomach begin floating
in a sea of nerves as she clumsily rang the buzzer at the
back door.  A large mid-aged woman with an unfiltered
Marlboro smoldering between her yellowed teeth greeted
the sheltered wife.

"Hi, I'm Tara and was told to meet a Rita here."

"In flesh dearie," the cumbersome woman barked and
pulled Tara inside the dark club.

"So I hear you want to dance here tonight.  Ever danced
before?"

Tara shook her head no and followed in Rita's shadow
down to the dressing room for the girls.

"Well, shit.  We don't take amateurs here and certainly no
rookies.  Well, I guess someone knows someone or some
shit like that to get you in here tonight."  Rita stopped in the
center of the well-lit room and grabbed Tara by the arms.

"Let me take a look at you and see what we've got to work
with."  Rita's hands began roaming over Tara's face and
neck, "I'm guessing your few years on the downside of 30.
Gettin' to be a little old for this work, aren't ya, dearie...."
Rita chuckled.  Her hands drifted lower to Tara's shoulders.
She spun the smaller woman around in a quick circle.

"Still looks like you've got a shape to you...I need to see
your goodies so take off your clothes."

Tara hesitated at the order, "Fuck, little missy.  How you
gonna dance tonight, if your shy about showing your
precious shit back here.  Now, get out those clothes, or go
home and quit wastin' my time"

Tears formed in Tara's eyes as her resolve slowly formed.
Just as Rita as ready to discard her project, Tara reached to
remove her t-shirt.  The rest of her clothing followed in
short order.  Tara stood naked except for her new shoes,
ready for inspection.

"There we are suga'.  That wasn't so bad. Now, let me see
hear."  The matron's thick, rough hands locked onto the
tender flesh of the younger woman's breasts.  "Not bad.
You got some nice titties on you still.  They look and feel
real.  Are they?"

Tara nodded.  "Great, a lot of men like big naturals like
these.  Turn around and let me see your caboose . . . .Not
bad, not bad at all."  Rita's fondling of Tara's body
continued with her club-like thumbs pulling apart the
cheeks of Tara's full, Latina ass.

"Bend over for me, dearie."  Rita's left hand encouraged
Tara to comply with the order.  She bent over at the waist.
"Keep going on, just reach down and grab yo' ankles for
me."  Rita urged.

Tara's hands grasped her ankles and exposed the pussy to
her mentor's view.  With both hands now pulling apart the
folds of Tara's intimate curves, Rita gave a final critique of
the new dancer.  "Well, all the parts is here and still in
pretty good shape for ya age.  I think we can make this
work."

Rita released Tara and allowed her to stand.  "Just
'member, you're giving up about 10-years to every other
workin' girl here.  Some of the mongers like older pussy,
some don't.  You gotta go find the ones that do to make yo'
shit tonight.  Come on, let's get you dressed."

Rita led Tara in the back storage room where the club's
spare costumes were kept.  She fumbled through several
options before deciding on an outfit. "Let's play up the
whole momma and teachy thing.  You're my new naughty
school teacher."

So Rita began handing Tara a complete ensemble.  The
lingerie consisted of the typical stripper fare of stockings,
g-string, open-cupped bra and the stripper's wallet - a
garter.  On top, she worn a long straight skirt that any
school teach might have chosen.  Of course, this one was
secured with a Velcro strip and not buttons and a zipper.
She covered her breasts with a plain white blouse.  The
outfit was completed with some conservative large, framed
glasses, a wooden-ruler, and prop apple.

The ladies spent the next several minutes creating a routine
for the rookie dancer to follow.  "Just 'member, be
confident.  You're the only one who knows your bustin'
yo' cherry.  There's a bunch of sharks and deadbeats out
there.  If you look scared, they'll eat you alive.  Rumor is
you need a c-note to get outta here.  Don't you worry 'bout
that at all.  Just don't freeze or fall on your ass too many
times and that kind of money is easy.   They'll all be drunk
anyway.  So just stick your tits and ass in their faces, they'll
cough up enough money for ya to be gone in no time.  Got
any more questions?"

Tara did, but none that mattered.  She was scared senseless
by the task in front of her.  But it had to done.  Wayne's
screams from earlier in the day still echoed in her head.
Whatever embarrassment lay in front of her, she simply had
to push through it.

"Well, just sit tight.  Your number starts in about 10
minutes.  What stage name ya want?"

"I don't know. You pick one for me."

Rita gave it a second's thought, "Well, let's just call you,
'Sassy,' cuz that's what you need to be in a few minutes...
I'm headin' out front.  When you hear your song and DJ
introduce you, you be ready.  Jump out on that stage like
you own it and you'll be fine."

Tara listened from just off stage as the seasoned performer
on stage went through her act.  The nervous bride had never
even been in a strip club before.  She peered through the
curtains to watch the sensuous moves of the expert dancer
on the stage.  She was following a tall-leggy blond with
breasts that had been well augmented by the surgeon's
knife.

Doubts and insecurities crept into her mind as she observed
the youthful performer on stage.  But she simply had to
lock those thoughts deep into her and focus on her new
route and Rita's advice.

"Like I own the stage. I own the stage," Tara repeated to
herself in barely audible tones as cheers came up from the
crowd.  The dancer was finished.

Just then the pulsing beat of Tara's first number began to
play.  The DJ prepared the crowd for Tara's appearance.

"Boys, you remember that teacher you had in
school...Y'all know the one all the guys talked about in the
halls.  The one that always seemed to keep one of your
friends after school for extra work.... well, get ready to see
her again.... the Doll House is here to bring that memory to
life.... Give it up for our own freaky teacher,
Saaaaaasssssssyyyyy!!"

Cheers and shouts rang out in anticipation of Tara's grand
unveiling.  Nerves nearly overwhelmed the frightened
woman, but her determination won out.  Tara sprang out on
to the stage and into the floodlights.

The bright lights of the stage blocked her vision of most of
the room.  Only the men directly next to the railing were
visible through the glare.  She was relieved that at.  While
there were easily over 200 men in the room, she felt as if
only a small handful could see her.

The initial spring in her step faltered as the realization that
she of what she was about to do rushed back over her.  Tara
was a faithful wife and a godly Christian woman.  Other
than her husband, she had not used her body to entice a
man in 20 years.  Now her husband's very life depended on
her ability to do it.  A moral crisis raging in her tender mind
now compounded those familiar doubts and fears.  The
crowd noise lessened.

Her hesitation had lowered the excitement in the room.
The impatient men were about to turn against the rookie.
The change of atmosphere in the smoky room broke Tara
from her conflict.  Once again, her resolve stiffened and the
housewife slipped into the role of dancer.

She drifted quickly into the flow of the music and allowed
the rhythm to stream through her body.  Tara's movements
loosened and she started going through the routine Rita had
given her. Her dance took her on a quick trip along the
railing that protected the stage.  She playfully pulled the
wooden ruler from her skirt and tapped the knuckles of the
men's hands that reached out for her

A second trip across the stage brought the opening of her
blouse.  Each released button brought more of her olive
skin into the sight of the hungry men.  Tara left the shirt
hanging open.

When she completed the second circuit, she danced her
way to the center of the stage.  She faced the curtain and
playfully looked back at the crowd over her right shoulder.
She paused and smiled at the crowd for a moment before
bending at the waist.  With her legs straight she reached all
the way to the ground and placed her apple and ruler on the
stage.  Standing up straight again, her hands went to the
sides of the long-straight skirt covering her stocking-
covered legs.  Each hand grabbed the small tabs at the top
of the Velcro strap.  A sharp tug and the Tara's ass and
white stockings were the crowd's to ogle.

Tara tossed the skirt to the back of the stage.  She again
bent at the waist to retrieve her props.  The full bend
stretched the back of her legs and caused the cheeks of her
ass to part.  Only a small, thin string hid any of her charms
from the onlookers.

The second song of Tara's set started.  The crowd's energy
had returned.  Tara used the opportunity to fish for her first
tips of the night.  Her eyes scanned the railing for men who
looked willing to part with some cash.  The first taker was a
man who looked like he might be on his first trip to a club.
Tara danced her way over to the young man.  She knelt
over in his direction.  The movements opened the sides of
her white blouse.  With the opened-cupped bra surrounding
the lower half of her breasts, the young man got the first
view of her ripe tits on the evening.  He gratefully slipped a
single into Tara's garter.

Several other men soon joined in the game.  Tara managed
to clear roughly $20 dollars on her first attempt.  It was
time to remove more clothing.

The meek bride returned to center stage and again faced
away from the crowd.  A quick shake of the shoulders and
the white blouse drifted to the floor.  While her exposed
hips kept in sync with her music, Tara's right hand moved
to the center of her back and deftly released the clasp that
held her revealing brassiere in place.  The garment joined
the blouse on the stage as Tara bent forward again.

Now exposed from the waist up, she continued to dance
with her back to the crowd.  Momentary glimpses of her
full bosom filled the lustful eyes of the men willing her on
as she swayed in time to her accompaniment.  Tara then
spun around to face the crowd and covered the tips of her
chest with her arms.  The crossed limbs pressed the pliable
flesh against her body and accentuated the seductive
curves.

Tara returned to the edge of the stage and found another
eager man to tease.  She danced in front of him until he
reached for a tip.  Once the money was extended, she
lowered her arms and gave the crowd their first full-view of
her torso.

The men erupted in cheers when the impressive, natural
breasts sprang out of the confines of her arms.  They
bounced and swayed freely in a way the no artificial breast
can.  Rita had been right.  Despite her relatively advanced
age in the club, the sight the large, unaltered mammories
brought a rush of onlookers to the edge of the stage.

Money was extended all along the railing.  Another trip
around the block netted Tara another $40 dollars.  Her total
climbed to $60.  She had one more important piece of
clothing to remove.

Her third song started.  Tara again returned to center stage.
This time she faced the crowd.  The thumb on each hand
slipped delicately inside the narrow band of her miniscule
panties.  Tara was covered in sweat from the exertion at
this point.  Adrenaline filled her muscles and veins.  The
rush of 200 men cheering her on had covered the normally
reserved woman awash in sexual tension.  Her hands
eagerly pushed the tiny garment to her knees.  The panties
fell to the floor.   Tara raised them to her left-hand with one
foot and playfully tossed them into the crowd.

She was covered in only a pair of white-fishnet stockings.
Her entire body was on display to the crowd.  Getting back
to the railing, Tara followed the lead of the dancer that she
had seen earlier.  She crawled on hands and knees.  With
each movement of her legs she greatly exaggerated the
sway of her flared hips.  Once at the edge, Tara sat back on
her ass and offered her legs to the crowd.

She kept them crossed at the start.  But as more money
gathered in her line of sight, Tara uncrossed her ankles.
Hands groped the sides of her thighs as they stuffed more
cash into the elastic band surrounding it.  Tara's legs
continued their journey apart and more hungry eyes peered
in to take in her most cherished sight.

Ten minutes ago, the bride was fearful of rejection and
morally conflicted.  But in that moment, there was no fear
or remorse as her knees and thighs opened to the bright
floodlights of the stage.

Another round of cheers went up from the men when the
legs finished their journey.  The stage manager trained the
full force of the club's spotlights onto the opened and
offered pussy.   Singles rained in around Tara.  Her hands
slid down her sweat-covered stomach to her folds.  The
fingers of her hands pulled back the delicate lips of her
vagina.  The bright pink skin of her tender slit was opened
for the strangers to take in.  Each man clearly saw the
moisture forming in her cunt and the small trail of
excitement beginning to seep onto her thighs.  Tara ground
her hips against an imaginary penis while the last song of
her faded out.

She lay on the stage for a long moment as the cheers
continued.  Her ego soaked in the praise of her horny
suitors.  However, reality slowly broke through the fog and
the Christian woman soon came to her self.

Tara sprang to her feet and quickly gathered the money the
lay around her.  She darted off-stage without even pausing
to gather her discarded clothing or props.  Rita met Tara as
she ran behind the curtain.

"Whoa there, honey.  You did it.  Here give me your
money and let me count it."  The naked woman emptied her
hands and garters to into house mom's hands.  Rita's count
came to $212.

"Well, sweetie looks like you've got plenty here.  You're
good with me.  Rest up for a minute and let me know when
you're ready to get dressed.  I've got some shit for you to
take with you."

Tara sat stone-faced and stared into the dressing-room
mirror in front of her.  Her body was still wet with her own
perspiration.  She could feel the moisture between her own
legs.  How could she have done that?  How could she have
enjoyed it?  And she did enjoy it.  There was no denying
that.  Tara ate up the catcalls and propositions she had been
showered in over the last few minutes.  The exposure and
danger had made her feel alive in a way she had not known
in years.

That realization scared Tara even more as she contemplated
the immediate future.  She was about to get another tasks to
do.  The voice on the phone had promised each one would
be harder than the one before.  Tara's concern now was not
so much if she could go through with it, but if she would
enjoy it too much.

In time, Tara gathered herself and found Rita.  Her clothes
were returned to her minus her panties.  The simple cotton
panties she had worn from the house that morning were
gone.  In their place, she was given a lacy-trimmed pair of
Brazilian-cut panties that framed perfectly the smooth
curve of her ass.

Rita handed Tara and plain manila folder and ushered her
out the back door.  Again, there was an envelope on the
windshield of her Jetta.  Just then the phone rang again.  It
was time for the contest to move forward.