Justice Girl: Trophy Hunter (Chapter 12) (Patreon)

Chapter 12

“Just lovely.”

Courtney gazed out upon Ocean City from her terrace. The city was lit up like a Christmas tree, spread out below her. Beyond the city was the deep, dark cobalt of the Pacific Ocean. The salty air waffling up to her lofty heights filled her with feelings of well being. The locals all thought the nights chilly, but as a old Londoner, she found it warm and wonderful.

“Moving here was the best decision of my life.”

London held too many memories of her lost family. Her lost life. All still so raw. And then her eyes fell upon the MAAD headquarters. So close to the docks. So close to Randy Girl’s brothel, where she’d almost fallen to those crazy, hate-filled losers. Then she winced.

“I can’t believe I slept with Chad Hatfield, of all men.”

Her eyes closed, arms wrapping around to hug herself as the memories flooded back in unbidden and unwanted. The smell of him suddenly filled her nostril. The taste of him, of his cock and balls, came back into her mouth.

“I can’t believe I let him fuck me for two whole hours,” she whispered. “In every orifice of my body. What came over me? Did he use magic to seduce me? Or some odorless drug?”

She enjoyed their passionate, their so very torrid, tryst way too much. Courtney hated how needy she was, how desperate to please and be pleased she’d become in his arms.

Was it forbidden pleasure that got me?

Yeah, she had always had a serious issue with forbidden pleasure. Her darker side long for, hungered for what was taboo and forbidden. Her teen years through moving to Ocean City were filled with one bad boy after another. All guys her parents forbid her to see. One and all fucked her until they had enough, and dumped her. Broke her heart.

Chad went too far. That was so wrong, she thought. Worse, I got nothing from him worth what I gave up.

The memories of the disaster outside of Wicked Girls came back unbidden and unwanted. A terrible setback for most of the city’s super heroines two night’s back. While she was captured, stripped, and gangbanged, along with Justice Girl and Platinum Angel, poor Zephyr was captured and taken away by Victory Girl and Randy Girl. She could only imagine the hell that poor Barbi was suffering through at that moment.

Heart pounding, she had to drive those thoughts from her head as she breathed deeply to calm her emotions down. The heroines were pretty sure the trap was set by MAAD, but then why did Randy Girl and Victory Girl show up? Was Wicked Girls really Randy Girl’s new strip club and brothel? Or were they told that to lure them into the trap?

So many unanswered questions.

We have to continue on the assumption Wicked Girls is owned and run by that wicked Amazon.

Her mansion’s landscape lighting clanked off and plunged her into absolute darkness, making her jump and breaking her out of that spiral of shame and self-loathing. She sucked in deep breaths to calm herself down, hands smoothing down her designer minidress as her eyes adjusted to the faint light. Courtney gave the city another look, and frowned.

“Time to stop wallowing in self-loathing and pity,” she said, voice stronger. “Time to get back to work finding and rescuing Zephyr.”

Her friend and fellow Sister of Alpha Meta Super Heroines had to be found and freed. Before all other concerns. They only had a small window of opportunity when it came to rescuing captured heroines. Yet, there hadn’t been a single word about Zephyr or Barbi Bangs from the bad guys. No one bragging about hiring either of her personas in Randy Girl’s brothel. No sightings. Nothing.

“Where could she be if not in that brothel?”

There was Randy Girl’s private residence. Also Victory Girl’s home. Both of which were secret, so the heroines didn’t know where to look for them. She needed to know exactly where to find the lost heroine. And that meant one man. Big Dawg.

“I hate him so much,” she whispered. “I really don’t want to see him again, much less speak to him.”

Courtney turned on a sky high heel and strode back into the dark mansion. The staff had gone home hours earlier. It was just her in there. So she went to her safe room, used her phone to open it, and entered.

“This is a job for Lady,” she said, and paused. “Damn, I’m glad I’m alone, because that sounded so lame.”

The redhead stripped out of her street clothes, and then pulled on tight black latex pants. Her black patent thigh boots were next, followed by the black latex halter top. After she fastened the black leather collar around her neck, with her Sisterhood Ankh, she pulled opera gloves up her arms to mid-bicep. Only then did she pick up her Sisterhood mask. Pressing it to her face, Courtney pressed a sequence of buttons and felt the high-tech mask seal to her face.

A very comforting feeling.

“I am Lady.”

She had all of ten seconds to bask in her heroine glory, before her phone rang. Not her heroine phone. She grabbed it to see who was calling.

Unknown number was displayed above the actual phone number.

Lady hesitated. Who would call her that late? Since it was an unknown number, then the person was not on her contacts. She started to let it go to voicemail, but then tapped answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Courtney,” Chad’s voice said. Her breath caught, a jolt rippling through her mind and body. HIM? “I hope I didn’t call too late.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she said, feeling a little discombobulated. Why is he calling me?

“I don’t know about you, but I can’t stop thinking about Sunday,” he said. “We were amazing together.”

Her jaw dropped. No he didn’t. Chad didn’t waste any time bring up their hookup. No small talk. Straight to them having sex. Her heart hammered, remembering that shameful afternoon. Her body shifted, squirmed, as those memories returned for the second time in the last half-hour. Worse, she felt her cunny getting wet.

What is wrong with me?

“Yes, I remember,” she said breathlessly. “What we did was wrong. You were with my good friend.”

“I agree, what we did was wrong at the time. But wrong never felt so good before,” he said. She caught herself nodding. “Of course, after I take you out tomorrow night, it’ll be perfectly fine for us to make love.”

That made her flinch. Tomorrow night? Her with him? Why did he just assume she would agree to a date, much less have sex with him again?

“Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she said, and froze. What did I just say?

“Great, I’ll pick you up at eight,” Chad said, and ended the call.

“Nonono, don’t hang up… Ah, Jesus!” she cried.

Lady started to hit callback and cancel their date. But…

Can I use this to get evidence to convict him of a felony? Probably. Her mind instantly returned to their encounter in her bed. Another date with him would undoubtedly end up in either hers or his bed. Better his bed. That way I can get up and look for incriminating evidence while he sleeps.

She had to sit down. Just thinking about what she planned left her mind reeling. So to take her mind off what she had to do, Courtney took a moment to add him and his number to her contacts. Only because that would display his name so she could avoid answering in the future.

“I still have time to cancel,” she said as she stood. “But first…”

She took a spiral staircase down to her garage, exiting out into a secret garage bay with her motorcycle. Using her phone, the heroine opened it to the outdoors, and raced out, up the winding drive, and out onto the street. Lady sped down out of the Hills, along those dangerously winding streets at top speed. It didn’t take long to reach the city proper, on relatively flat land. And then she headed for a seedy club in an economically distress neighborhood.

Lady slowly cruised past Big Dawg’s club, the Alpha Club, studying all the people out front. One and all African-Americans. It felt like every single one of them turned to glare at her as she rode past. Because she was a heroine? Or because she was a privileged white woman? Lady wasn’t sure, but knew she was not welcome either way.

Looping around, she rode up to the back of the club. Killing the engine, she pulled out her phone and called the informant. A woman answered.

“May I speak to Big Dawg?”

“About what?”

“None of your business. Just give the phone to Big Dawg.”

“Bitch.”

Lady’s breath caught, expecting the other woman to end the call. But she didn’t. A familiar deep, deep bass voice spoke next.

“Wazzup? Who is this?”

“It’s Lady, Big Dawg. We need to talk. In private. Mano-a-mano.”

“About what?”

“Zephyr.”

The bastard chuckled. “Yes. You would come here to find her. Ah, poor, pitiful Zephyr. Hold one.”

The call ended. Lady frowned at her phone, and then stuffed it back into it’s secret pocket inside her right thigh boot. She dropped the bike’s kickstand, and got off. The English ex-pat moved over to the steel, heroine-proof back door and waited. It took the better part of ten minutes, but the door finally opened and a busty African-American woman stepped out. She wore a metallic gold halter and skirt outfit, made up brightly like a stripper, and sneered at Lady.

“Big Dawg is busy, but he’ll give you five minutes.”

“Lovely,” she said, and then remembered herself. Lady shifted into her deep American-accented voice. “Lead the way.”

That wasn’t Lady’s first visit. It was always a different woman that greeted her, though. The music made the walls shake, so much louder inside than out. Even way in back it felt oppressively loud. Rap music. Not her favorite.

The black woman in gold led her to the same room Big Dawg always met with her. It was small and cramped, with a queen-sized bed and a well-padded, couch like chair for the massiveness that was Big Dawg to sit. No other furniture. So she always had to stand before him like a supplicant.

The morbidly obese informant sat stoically on his throne. Staring at her behind dark glasses.

His resting bitch face is legend.

He wore his customary, tailored track suit. That night it was red with white stripes. His fat fingers sparkled with rings, bracelets on his wrists, a Mr. T massive jumble of gold and diamond necklaces weighing down his neck. That night he wore a red stetson like one of those old-time noir detectives.

“Mr. Dawg.”

“Lady,” he replied. “You are amazingly bold, or maybe stupid, to contact me. What makes you think I want to deal with you after what you did to me last time we met?”

She winced. Yeah, that probably wasn’t her best decision five months back. But he touched her breast without permission, which gave her the right to kick him in the balls. Right?

“In truth, I’m desperate, Big Dawg,” she said, shifting uneasily. “Zephyr’s been captured by Randy Girl and Victory Girl. We don’t know where they are holding her. We need your help.”

The big man just glared at her for several minutes.

“I know exactly where they took Zephyr,” he said. “And she remains there to this day.”

Lady perked up. He knew! Now they could rescue their friend from ignoble sexual slavery. And maybe they could end those two Amazon villain’s criminal careers for once and all.

“Wonderful,” she said. “Where can I find her?”

The slightest of smiles touched his full lips. Then he shook his head.

“No. I cannot forget how much you hurt me. I think about that kick every day,” he said. “Unforgivable.”