"We will now be boarding our first class passengers first, followed by handicapped and disabled passengers." Said the women on the speaker as a look of happiness appeared on everyones faces. Washu forced her way through everyone to become the first person to get on the plane ... "May I please see your ticket mam?" Said the overly polite stewardess as Washu started to get on the plane. "Certainly." Said a straightforward Washu. All she wanted to do was get on the damn plane, get to Russia, and get this bullshit over with. She had the worst luck with the airline; Her flight was delayed 5 hours, her connecting flight was delayed also....She was furious. She would beat the crap out of anything at this moment....hell, she'd take on the whole fucking red army if she had too...... "Your seat will be row 1, seat A madam." Said the stewardess. "Thank god you guy's at least got my seat right. You have to understand that I have little room left for patience." Well, at least something has gone alright in this fiasco. In the airport, mostly people are happy when things go as they should for once.....it used to be that if you purchased an airline ticket, and you were going somewhere, chances were that you would get there with no problem. It was somehting that people took for granted. Now, people pray that there plane will arive no later then 2 hours late, and that the plane will not be overbooked with more then 15 people. Its unamerican, or, in Washus case, unjapanese. Washu made her way pass the stewardess and proceeded to the tunnel that leads to the plane. She was releived to hear the loud engine of the 747 jet airplane come nearer and nearer, as this was a signal of freedom from this damnable place. Washu had always hated large crowd's and stuffy places. But what was waiting for her in Russia, was all the inspiring Washu needed to overcome her fobia of too many people. She didn't know why she felt this way. She assumed it was just the smell of musty men in tacky buisness suits or the crying of little children followed by the nagging of their bitchy moms. Whatever it was, it was over....for now anyway.... Another thing she had to look forward to was her first class seat. She could relax and have plenty of room to put her leggs up and fall asleep. She paid the airline to have two men carry her baggage. "Put those in the over head cabin please." She said. Although she felt that her politeness was completely unnecciessary; if they get paid to do this, then why the hell should I go out of my way to be polite and thankful. What was the damn point she thought. "Um, miss, you have too many things, were gonna have to ask you to check some of your bags." Said one of the airline employees. "Oh give me a fucking break!" She yelled. "I waited for your stupid plane to get here, I cooperated then. I waited at the checkin station to get my ticket for 2 hours, i didn't complain then either. I waited and waited, and waited putting up with all of your bullshit! and now, the tables will be turned! you will have to put up with my bull shit!!!!" "Mam, there is no reason for a verbal assult here, we will check your bags for you." Said the man with a calm, reassuring voice. "Then do it!" Washu, feeling slightly embarassed, was shun to cooperate anymore. She decided that if anything else went wrong on this flight, she would explode. Minutes passed, Washu was glad that this plane was about to take off. "Excuse me mam, would you like a beverage to start off before we take off?" "Um, yes, i'll just have a tomato juice." She said. She figured the last thing she needed to go wrong was she getting drunk and missing her connecting flight. Washu pulled out her cell phone from the bag she hade carried on board with her. "Im sorry mam, we're gonna have to ask for all our passengers to turn off all electrical appliances at this time..." Washu remembered how she said that if anything else went wrong on this flight she'd explode. She then realized that she was too tired to put up a fight. She turned it off. When the stewardess left however, she turned it on again and called the man who would meet her in Russia. She dialed the number. After 4 rings the person would answer, as was the secret code for the transaction. ****phone call****** "Hello.." The man answered. It was not the question hello as people often do curious as to who might be calling them at this hour. But it was the confident hello, as if everything was going according to plan. The mans voice was deep, yet soft and delicate. "May I please speak to Nicholie Hel?" Said Washu. "Zis is Nicholie..." "It's me, Washu....I just got on the plane and I should be there around 6:30 Your time." "Goooood, I vill meet you et, terminal 3C." "Okay, your not going to bring any of your goones are you?" Asked Washu, hoping that his answer would be no. "Of courz I vill bring zem. Zey never go anyvere wizout me!" "Verywell, if you must." "Good bye..." Said Nicholie..worried that this phone call was being traced. Washu hung up the phone and pulled out her journal. Dear Journal, I am finally on the plane . Nicholie is going to wait for me at trminal 3C and from there we will dicuss how I will get the cocain. I am gonna be rich baby! rich! **************** Washu was excited. She thought of all the ways she would spend the billions of dollars she was gonna make... Washu has always had great ties with the Russian Mafia. Ever since she provided them with secret American and Japanese military secrets that the russian mafia sells to their government, enabling the Russian Red army to make devastating nuclear weapons. This all came easy for Washu, her computers and technolodgy were so advanced, that there was very little that she doesn't already know about. On many other occasions, Washu has helped the Russian Mafia with finding out who will betray them and squeal to the authorities about the mafia's corrupt aspects. The Russian Mafia was almost dependant on Washu's knowledge. And now.....now it was time for the mafia to pay her back. The Russians offered 898 million dollars worth of cocain. Almost a billion dollars for Washu's help and the continuation of her help in the future. This was an equal trade although washu's help has saved and made them billions. Washu would sell the cocain in America and Japan and would profit over a billion dollars; maybe 2 billion if she can extend the flow to the middle east. Getting that large mass of cocain from Russia to Japan was what Washu would fly to Russia to discuss. Nicholie Hel: an important very well respected Russian Mafia boss was to meet her in Terminal 3C when she arrived in Russia. She would from there be introduced to the head boss of the Russian Mafia: Yurri Gorbatov, who in Washu's opinion was a frightening man and in no way Washu wanted to associate with him. Nicholie and Washu however have in the past had sexual relations but were shun to ever mention it in the future. "Here is your Tomato juice mam." Said the stewardess. "Thankyou" Said Washu. She was in a lot better of a mood now that the plane was in the air and she thought of all the great things she would do with the money. She drank it down. The tangy spiced taste of the tomato juice hit the spot for Washu. It was cold, tangy and delicious. Washu was glad that no one had sat down next to her in the first class section. She had an entire first class row to herself. She didn't have to worry about sharing an armrest. She didn't have to worry about making small talk. And best of all, she didn't have to worry about anyone listening to her conversation. This ment she didn't have to use nearly as many code words. Washu turned on the television, a feature in first class, and was engaged in a movie. Scarface was the movie. She found Al Pacino to be pretty attractive at that time... It was the next morning and Washu had accomplished the unusuall task of falling asleep on the plane. >This is your Captian speaking, we will be ariving in Moscow in about 15 minutes....< "Thankgod!" Washu said aloud. She reached for her purse and pulled out her phone.....She dialed the number. "Hello." Said that same straight forward voice. "Nicholie, I am about 10 minutes from Moscow, I will be arriving soon.." "Your plane es late, you know vhat Gorbatov zinks about late comers.." "Is that a threat?" "It is not zo much a threat as it tis a future reference..." "Whatever, meet me at terminal 3C..." With that, Washu hung up. She was not in the mood to be scolded. Her past relationship with Nicholie Hel was that of extrordinary aspects. There relationship was like no other. They left eachother alone in times of dire need. It would be safe to say that there relationship was surrounded on what the other person thought the other was. Washu wasn't in love with Nicholie as much as she was in love with his power and authority. Nicholie on the other hand, was madly in love with Washu but was limited in expressing his feelings to her because of his position in the mob. With that, their relationship remained mostly sexual. A togetherness that in no way would last long....if it lasted at all. Both parties were aware of this, but never paid attention to it. The matter was left neglected, and the two got in a fight so terrible, that both of them never bring up any references as to what occured in the past. The plane landed. Washu had the planes crew carry her baggage again off the plane. She again was the first to get off the plane. And when she saw the look on her past lovers face, she knew that past references were not entirly forgotten. "Hello," Said Washu. "It has been ages Washu," "Yes it has...." "Nicholie, ve must hurry, if ve are not on time to meet Gorbotov, he veel be very angry." Said one of Nicholie's intimidating gaurds. "Yes, let us go..." The four of them walked at a semi fast pace down the airport walkway. Washu was sadend looking at the large quantities of homeless people. Children with bruises from abuse and mistreatment struggle to hold up there cups wich would only amount to about 60 cents a day. Old men who reecked of body odor and smelly clothes struggled on canes to ask for anything. A dime would do , perhaps a quarter.....if he was lucky. And then came the American turist.....the jackpot of all. Americans can not say no. The Russian bums know it. Americans never ignore the homeless. they'll always give an explain ation as to why they can't give the money....or, they'll give the money not because they want to help, but bacause they want the homeless off their back. Russians give the homeless the cold shoulder. Or even worse, they harass them or abuse them for fun. Prostitutes are at every terminal, waiting for that foreigner to give them more then they're worth. Old women with no legs sit hoplessly on the side with their cups in the air. "I 'ave one stop to make before ve meet Gorbatov," said Nicholie. "These poor people," said Washu mercifully. "Pay no attention to zem....they are rats! mere scrubbs of society...How I wish dis country vas still communist..." The four of them proceeded to the parking lot where the limouzine waited. "Driver! Take us to ze back streets," said Nicholie. "Why are we going there!" said a frusterated Washu. Both Nicholie's gaurds pulled guns on Washu. "Put zos away! Dont you ever point a gun at her unless I say!" said Nicholie. "I am sorry Washu, they are very over protective of me, but it is completely necissary." "Why do we need to go to the back streets? It's the worst place in town." "Zere is a 13 year old prostitute zat claims she knows vere Karkaroff is. Karkaroff is a traitor to ze russian mafia." "Just as long as we can get this over with as soon as possible...." said Washu. Nicholie and his men wore black suits with black ties. His men carried FMP 90 rifles and he carried a handgun. It was the official style. The style seen in all mob movies. The same stereotypical get up that is seen and imagined by everyone. They pulled up to a run down house wich was at one time a mansion when Russia was at its best. Nicholie and his men put on their trench coats. Prostitutes from 13 to 30 sat and stood around the house. Loud music could be heard from the inside. The windows were boarded up to prevent the police from happening to peak in on whatever evil things that went on inside. Chants and calls were called out at Nicholie and his gaurds, wich were ignored. One of the girls attempted to put her arms around one of Nicholies gaurds and she was sevearly beaten by him.....she lay unconcious on the sidewalk. Nicholie and his men laughed. "Zat is vat happens when ze prolatariot rebel against ze bourgiouse..." Said Nicholie, followed by jeers from his men. "That wasn't funny!" yelled washu. "Please Washu, you should not have such a sensitive heart....zings are different in mother Russia." Washu stepped over the bloody victim. The four of them approached the door and knocked. 5 seconds later a small sliding peep hole opened and a black man appeared. "What the hell is a black man doing in Russia?" Said Washu. "Ze come here looking for a fast and effective way to , what zey call.....pimp." "Who da fuck are you!?" said the man. "Do you have an appointment?" One of Nicholies men was about to blast the man right through the door but Nicholie stopped him... "Zere is no need for violence right now, zat comes later." said Nicholie. "What da hell do you want?" "I am here to see the man in charge here," said Nicholie. The man left to go ask his boss if he should let them in....he came back a minute later. "Aight, he says yall can come in." said the man. "Its about fuckin time," said one of Nicholies men. The room was filled with smoke. There was 4 poles and 4 platforms where strippers were performing for locals who knew and paid good money to get in to this secret place. Topless women were everywhere, performing pleasers for customers and some lay passed out from drug overdoses. The floor was sticky and the lighting was slightly dim. The place sometimes wreeked of drugged out women who've soiled themselves and musty men who need showers... The place was horrible. The black man led the four of them apperently to what is the master bedroom. Screems and moans of women having sex could be heard from every room. The floor creaked as they walked down the narrow hallway. The man knocked on the door of his boss. "Hey Marlon, those four people are here." "Send there asses in here." The man motioned his hands , signaling them to go in. The room was farely large. The man sat on the bed shooting heroine into a blonde womans arm. Naked women lay asleep and passed out on the floor. Old needles and empty cocain packts lay scattered on the floor. The man was not clearly visible from eyes view.....the shadow from the over head bed ceiling cast a shadow on is face. The curtains were pulled halfway around the bed. " Are you fellas lookin to take one of these broads home with you tonight?" Said the man. "I am looking for one girl in particular." said Nicholie. "Her name is .........Arina....Arina Casamich...I believe." "Hehehehe.....shes in the cell room right now, hehehe," "Whats the cell room?" asked Washu. "Thats the place where I keep the girls who I own." "You don't own anybody you fucking bastard!" screemed Washu. "I do to own them....they are girls of mothers and Fathers who were too poor to have and raise a child. Those pahetic people come to me and i buy them as babies. I make one of these crack whores take care of it till its about 10, depending on how mature it is. I raise them and put them out on the streets to make money." "You , you fucking bastard!" Washu made an attempt to go after the man but she was held down by one of Nicholies men. "Please Washu, do not make a scene, It is different here in Russia..." "I fuck em untill I think they are ready to make it on the streets. Sometimes I have them watch me fuck my sluts so they can learn. Its a pro fitable buisness, I'm a rich man now... anyone who says that money doesn't buy happiness doesn't FUCKIN have any!!! Look at the big fuckin smile on my face...Hahahahahaha!" "You, you bitch, how could you do that to these poor girls.!!" The man ignored her. "My name is Marlon by the way......" The man got out of bed and stepped out of the shadows. He was grotesque. he wore white boxers and a black robe. he was a light skinned black man with long dreadlocks. he had a deep nasty scar wich streched across his eye from the top of his forehead to just below his cheekbone. His left eye was yellow and discolored from the scar wich went across it. "Why dont ya'll sit down and have an egg roll or something.... I ordered chinese food but these crack whores dont look like there gonna eat, heheheheh." Marlon dry humped one of his drugged out women and laughed again... "Let us get down to buisness!" said Nicholie. "it tis very important zat I speak to zis girl of yours.... ******************** Do you guys want more? please e-mail me and tell me if I should continue with this storey. I am the author of the EROTIC TORTURE CHAMBER by the way.