The Final Veil: Who had kidnapped America's favorite belly dancer? Read online

  "She was a snot," said Joy in a matter-of-fact tone. "I mean, that humble act of hers never fooled me. She was a great dancer and she knew it, and while she never lorded it over anybody or anything, I could tell she secretly thought she was better than me and everybody else here. You know how some people like preachers put on this big humble act, but it's really just a front? Well, that was April."

  "You didn't like her because she was a snot," I said. "Sounds annoying, but not much of a reason for kidnapping her."

  "Well, I didn't kidnap her," Joy said.

  "I didn't think you did," I said. "Do you know of anyone who might have been upset or mad enough with her to kidnap her or harm her?"

  "No, not really," Joy said. "But you know, some of the guys who come into the club here are terrible nuts. And she's been on TV a lot, you know, and that REALLY brings 'em out of the woodwork."

  "No doubt about that," I agreed. "We've got men working on that angle. What I'm interested in is people she may have known. Did she piss a lot of people off with that snooty attitude of hers?"

  "Nah, most people fell for that humble act of hers," Joy responded. "She was really good at it. I think she kinda believed it herself, you know?"

  "So you were the only one here who really caught on to her?"

  "Nah, there was also Molly and Tara and Sugar," Joy said. "They were pretty much on to her. Sugar especially."

  "Why especially her?" I asked.

  "She was a little in love with April when she first came here," Joy said. "That's not so rare. A lot of dancers are bi, y'know, and the young ones fall for the older ones pretty regular. Not that April was all that bi, which was really the problem. Sugar kinda laid her heart at April's feet, and April was real nice to her and all, being so humble, but she really didn't want to be April's true love, if you know what I mean. April was just really, really into men. I can understand that, but you know, some of the guys who come in here will put you off human beings, much less men."

  "I believe it," I said. "So, Sugar took it hard when April spurned her."

  "I wouldn't say 'spurned' is what she did," said Joy, "but Sugar might. She was all broke up about it and then decided April was an evil bitch queen and declared her an enemy for life. Then she took up with another girl."

  "What's Sugar up to now?" I asked.

  "She's lap dancing down at the Paradise," said Joy. "That's why I think she might still be mad at April -- she kinda blamed April for her having to leave here."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "April complained because she thought Sugar put ground glass in her shoes one night," said Joy. "It put April off her feet for a week. Everybody knew Sugar did it because she bragged to some of the other gals when they went out drinking a few days later. That was what got her fired. If she'd kept her mouth shut, she'd have been fine, until the management found out about the blowjobs she was giving certain customers after hours at a hundred dollars a pop."

  "The management wouldn't like that," I said.

  "If the law gets the idea that you put up with that kind of stuff, they'll have grounds to jerk your license, and with all the Bible bangers we got down here, it'll happen sooner or later," said Joy. "That license they got is a license to print money, and they know it. So they can you for shit like that. The ground glass thing could have been just an excuse. Worked out anyway -- I hear Sugar gives great lap dances."

  "So why does Sugar feel bad about leaving here, if she's doing so well at the Paradise?" I asked.

  "It's a status thing," said Joy. "This is one of the city's top clubs, the sort of club that gets mentioned when you talk about clubs in Atlanta. There's lots of other dancers working in no-touch clubs who would love to work at the Persimmon. When you go to another city, dancing at the Persimmon will get you a shot at the top clubs there. So Sugar wound up at a lesser-known club. Then she got tossed outta that one. Then she got tossed outta a couple more clubs. She's very pretty and she dances just fine, so I think the word got around among the club owners about her cock sucking in parking lots. Nobody wanted to risk their license, so she wound up at the Paradise."

  "Paradise is the bottom of the barrel, eh?" I asked.

  "Well, you know, their big thing isn't DANCING," said Joy. "They do lap dances. She's spending all her nights grinding her butt into men's laps."

  "I guess that would be a step down," I acknowledged. "I thought you got busted for that."

  "They're over in Gwinnett, where all those Yankees have moved in," said Joy. "They don't care about that, as long as you keep it quiet. And I guess they've been keepin' it quiet, because they've been doing it for a couple of years."

  "Do they make better money than you, or less?" I asked.

  "Less," said Joy. "If they made a lot more, I'd be dancing with her. Of course, she still makes pretty damn good money. But the real high rollers spend the night in the Persimmon, not the Paradise. I don't think she gets the big paydays like I do."

  I thought about a woman who'd been dancing in one of the top clubs in the city, making the top money, now reduced to scooching around on men's laps for much less money, blaming it all on April. If it bugged her enough, it could be a motive that could drive someone to something as dangerous as kidnapping.

  I pumped Joy about the male admirers she'd had, but they'd all vanished from her ken pretty soon after April left the club. I got the impression the only reason she still knew about Sugar was that she was still dancing in Atlanta. But it was a lead, and it was a little less theoretical than the leads that led to the Mothers of Propriety and the ALFALFANs. And while the Mothers and the ALFALFANs were groups, and we knew several people had abducted April, Sugar might well have friends. Criminal friends, who might see a profit motive in abducting April.

  Chapter 9

  I Was An Information Slut

  The Persimmon Club was located on a busy Atlanta thoroughfare just off a major interstate highway. It had a big billboard advertising its location. The Paradise Club was also located off a major interstate highway but it was much more discreetly located, tucked in the corner of a half-dead strip shopping center, one of those places that can't help advertising their poverty and failure. The Paradise Club had probably been a restaurant at one time, and I got the impression I could probably figure out which one if I'd been interested enough to stare at it for awhile, but I wasn't.

  Somebody had done a pretty good job of replacing the old restaurant's windows with walls so they didn't look obvious on the outside, but the inside had apparently been done by somebody in the throes of Populuxe fever. Everything was chrome trim and woggly shapes, with lots of black on the walls to bring out the glow of the chrome and the formica tabletops.

  The stages were two tiny squares with a pole going up the center. A couple of dancers were gyrating on them in fairly lively fashion while a loud techno beat pulsed in the background. About two dozen guys filled the room, though they didn't crowd it, and half a dozen girls circulated among them. It was still early enough that nobody seemed hurried or tired, and the place actually had a pretty good buzz.

  I took a seat in one of the less crowded areas and looked around. I immediately saw what Joy had meant about lap dances. About three chairs down from me a curvy brunette dressed only in the bottom half of a thong bikini sat in a man's lap, facing away from him. She rubbed her rump into his lap with slow, steady deliberation. She was looking just a little preoccupied with what she was doing. The guy behind her was staring into space, but I don't think he was doing a whole lot of seeing. He was mostly feeling that virtually naked butt rubbing itself all over his lap and his almost certainly erect cock.

  The song ended and she got up from his lap which he quickly tucked under the table he sat at. He put a bill in her garter and they smiled at one another, then she was off to another table.

  It took about ten minutes for a waitress to make her way to me. She was a sharp black woman dressed in a silver lame bikini. Very nice combination. She took my order for a $5 soft drink.

 
; "I'm looking for Sugar," I said.

  "I'm just the waitress," she said, grinning.

  "You know who I mean," I said, grinning back at her.

  "I do," she admitted. "I'll give her the word. Might be a few minutes, she's kinda busy."

  I hauled out two ten dollar bills. "Then I hope this'll encourage you to let her know promptly," I said, slipping one of the bills into her garter. "And I hope this'll encourage her to come over as quick as she can," putting the other bill on her tray.

  Ten minutes later a short, curvy redhead walked over to my table. She had breasts that looked big enough to have been bought, but which hung and jiggled and thrust from her torso in a very natural way. And the wide, smooth curve of her hips also added credibility to her breasts' naturalness.

  "Hi, I'm Sugar," she said. She had a light, clean complexion, merry brown eyes to go with her red hair and freckles across her rounded cheeks.

  She did not look like an abductress, but then, she didn't look like a stripper, either. Clothed in something that disguised the extravagance of her figure, you might take her for an elementary school teacher or a nurse, the sort who brightened everyone's day without really trying to.

  She wore a black sling thong bikini, the sort that just consisted of a single thong that attached to a collar in the front and back of her neck. One strap ran down from her clavicle between her breasts and over her belly button to her pudenda, where it flared slightly to conceal them (else it would have disappeared between them). The other strap ran out from her butt crack and straight up her spinal column to the back of her neck.

  To "conceal" her breasts she wore a translucent black scarf that was wrapped around her back and over her breasts, tied with a simple overhand knot in the middle, its ends dangling provocatively over her bare midriff. The scarf, held in place only by the bulging protuberance of Sugar's ample breasts, jiggled and shook with her every move.

  She could have removed both items of clothing, if that's the right word for them, and looked considerably less naked, because they did next to nothing to conceal her womanly charms -- in fact, they only emphasized her body's nakedness.

  Sugar walked over to me and stood a few inches from my knees, smiling.

  "I'm Sugar," she said. "You were asking for me?"

  "Yes, I was," I said. "Joy over at the Persimmon recommended I look you up."

  "Well, that's great," said Sugar. "She recommended a dance from me?"

  "She said you knew April Dancer, way back when," I said.

  "Sure I did," Sugar said without hesitation.

  "April has disappeared," I said. "I'm investigating her disappearance. Can I ask you a few questions?"

  "Well, I'm kind of on the job right now," said Sugar. "Can it wait until after my shift ends at 3 a.m.?"

  "Not really," I said, whipping out a twenty. "But I'd be very happy to pay you for your time. No dance, just answers."

  "I really appreciate that," said Sugar. "But I'm not allowed to take money unless I dance for you."

  "Can you dance AND answer questions?" I asked. "I'll pay you double for your dance..."

  "I don't see how management could object to that," Sugar said. "Y'know, as long as you're paying double, we could go over to the private rooms. Costs the same and I can do a lot more."

  "I'm really just here to find out about April," I said, trying to hold onto some semblance of professionalism.

  "You'll enjoy the dance," Sugar said, holding out her hand to me and smiling.

  "I'm sure I will," I said. What the hell, if this is what it took to get information, well, I was a private investigator, and this was a private thing.

  Sugar led me through the room to a hallway where a large black man sat quietly at a desk, obviously on duty as a guard. Sugar smiled at him and he nodded and said, "Room 3 is empty."

  I followed Sugar to Room 3. Following Sugar was fun. She had beautifully rounded hips and ripe, full buttocks, and she knew how to use them when she moved. The taut line of fabric that ran from her neck to her butt was like a sexual metronome.

  Room 3 turned out to be a little cubbyhole with a narrow, padded bench covered in red velour running along the far side of the "room." The walls were covered in red velour and the room's doorway was covered with a red velour curtain, which was the only closure the room had. The only fixtures the room had were large mirrors on all the walls, and some small shelves built into one corner on which rested a clock, a CD player with a rack of CDs beside it and a box of Kleenex.

  "OK, ground rules," Sugar said. "I can touch you about anywhere I like, but I don't HAVE to touch you anywhere in particular. You can't touch me at all, officially, but if you want to put your hands on my hips or my shoulders, that'll be OK. If your hands get out of line, I'll warn you. If they get out of line twice, or if they get way out of line, I'll call Stan, he's the guy outside, and you'll be required to pay for the dance, and you'll be escorted outside, and you won't be allowed back in. I wouldn't advise giving Stan any lip, not that I think that's what you're here for. But I have to tell you. OK?"

  "OK with me," I said, "but why can't we just sit here and talk and I'll give you some money and everybody'll win?"

  "Management is real strict on that gotta dance for the money thing," said Sugar. "I mean, I don't want to OFFEND you or anything, but this IS a dance club."

  I smiled at Sugar. "OK, dance away, I know I will enjoy it, too."

  "Before you sit down on the bench, you should know that you have to wear SOME kind of garment on your lap, but it doesn't have to be your pants. Undies will be fine. Though I'm sure you'll prefer pants. I have to wear the bottom part of my thong during the dance, but not the top."

  With these words, Sugar undid the knot between her breasts and pulled the scarf out, revealing two large, pendulous breasts that swung and jiggled in a very natural way once freed.

  I smiled and took off my pants, just to be contrary.

  "You fill those boxers out real good," Sugar said. "Now sit down on that bench and we can get down to business."

  I dropped my pants in a corner and sat down on the bench. It was a very narrow bench, just barely wide enough to give me a comfortable perch. That left plenty of lap hanging out in space for Sugar to play with.

  Sugar stepped over to the CD rack, picked out a CD, and pressed a few buttons. A soft jazz tune filled the room. Sugar stepped over to me and with a sudden, smooth move, sat on my lap. She immediately wrapped her arms around my waist and snugged up to my chest. I could feel her breath softly on my shoulder. I could feel her breasts pressing against mine. But mostly I felt her ass grinding into my lap, relentlessly, urgently rubbing against my half-erect cock.

  I put my hands on her hips, just to have something to do with them. Her hips felt wonderful in my hands, smooth, rounded, soft and feminine, like the smell of her perfume, which was kind of fruity but also had a deep, musky, female element to it. Which might have been Sugar. There was just something very natural and feminine about the way she talked and held herself, and about the way she moved as she lap-danced for me. There wasn't a thing stiff or unnatural about her. She wasn't performing, she was simply doing. And what she was doing was me.

  "Mmm, that feels right," said Sugar. "Your hands are in the right place."

  "Feels right to me, too," I said. "So, can we talk now?"

  "Sure," said Sugar. "Might not dance so well for you. When I dance, I let my body do all the thinking."

  "It's OK," I said. "You just let your body do the thinking and answer my questions the best you can, everything will be ... fine."

  "Mmmm, fine," said Sugar.

  "So, what did you think of April?" I asked.

  "She was OK," Sugar said noncommittally. "I mean, I didn't really like her. But I didn't hate her."

  "I'm trying to figure out why someone might have been upset enough with her to kidnap her," I said. "Her friends just talk about what a great person she is and how she didn't have an enemy in the world. So it would help if I knew why you didn't
like her."

  "I didn't like her, uhn," said Sugar, writhing in my lap as she spoke, "because she was so competitive. Um. She always had to, ohhh, have the best guys. Had to, ooh, be the queen bee."

  "Did she steal ... ah ... guys from you?" I asked.

  "Yeah ... now shut up," Sugar said. "Can't think. Talk later."

  I had to admit, she had a point. The tiny bit of fabric that wended its way through the pink crevasses of her loins may have kept her from being nude insofar as the State of Georgia was concerned, but it made no difference to my cock. My cock was under the impression there was a naked pussy rubbing against it, and for all intents and purposes, there was.

  It was sending signals to my brain, the sort of signals that tended to swamp out any other signals that were in my brain, up to and including signals that said I was about to ruin my life, or that I might soon be running for said life.

  With my cock fully engorged Sugar had a bead on it, and her butt was not going to let my woodie get away unslathered by her slippery pudenda.

  Suddenly, with a smoothness and speed that impressed me, Sugar pivoted on my lap, raising one stiletto-heel clad leg and leaning back slightly to let it pass between us as she whirled, her butt never leaving my lap.

  Now she sat facing away from me and ground her butt into my lap, bracing herself with her hands on her knees. I reached out and put my hands on her hips, sliding my fingers into the crease where her thighs joined her hips, but not reaching for any of the goodies farther south.

  "Mmm-hmm, you know just where to put those hands, mister," Sugar said. "And you know just where to put your dick, I bet."

  With her hands balanced on her knees and her new location, Sugar had much better balance and much better leverage. I knew this because suddenly her butt was all over my cock. She knew it, too. She could probably tell by the way my breathing was now coming in gasps, and from the way my hands clutched spasmodically at her writhing hips.

  "That's the way, baby," Sugar purred. "That's the way. Give it to me, baby. I want it so bad."