Once again, I was wearing my prettiest outfit, with the almost-translucent blouse and the skirt that I had shortened, held together with tape and staples. Once again, I went to the bar in the expensive hotel, hoping to get picked up by a high-roller – and once again, I was.

This time it was a woman, and a cold, beautiful, scary one at that. Blonde, statuesque, regal good looks, definitely Teutonic. A Valkyrie. I tried to be warm and giggly, but she remained aloof and cold, yet took me home anyway. She looked hauntingly familiar, but I could not remember her name, no matter how hard I tried.

Then, somehow, I wound up dancing for her in her private studio – or at least trying to dance. She kept demanding that I do better, but I kept stumbling and forgetting the steps. Worse, she was using a riding crop on me and it was making me hot, which made my dancing worse.

Suddenly, I found myself dancing naked in front of a large audience – and was desperate to cum, my honey dripping onto the stage.

I slipped and fell on my back, then found that I was tied, spread-eagle, to a bed. A blonde woman was alternately enticing me with her hands and mouth, then hitting me with the crop. I had welts all across my body, especially around my breasts and kitty, yet I was dripping with unbearable desire. I loved it. I hated it. I urgently wanted it to stop, and I desperately wanted it to continue.

Please, I kept begging the woman, please let me cum. I’ll do anything…anything at all! She finally raised her head to look at me, and I saw my own face staring back at me.

Find Mistress’ killer! I snarled.

I was trapped, alone, squirming on the bed, fighting against my bonds as the mist rolled in and everything vanished.

I woke up, sweating, breathing hard, disoriented, and nauseous, feeling like I was going to throw up again. I got ready to bolt to the toilet, but the feeling gradually passed, and I collapsed back onto the damp sheets.

Oh, FUCK that had been bad! I gulped the air of the flat, trying to stop my heart from pounding its way out of my chest, then sat up. I swung my feet over the side and hung my head, wiping sweat from my face.

Finally, when I could, I stood up, wobbled over to the dresser, and got a cigarette.

Mistress never allowed me to smoke, saying it was bad for me. Well, what the fuck did that matter now? I was dead already, wasn’t I?

I lit up, opened the window, grabbed a blanket, and climbed, naked, out onto the balcony. I laid the blanket down and sat on it, then wrapped the rest of it around my shoulders. I didn’t try to cover my tits or kitty. I didn’t care.

One after-effect of the nightmares was that I woke up incredibly horny for some reason, almost as much as in my dreams. I frequently woke up wet and usually dealt with it the same way.

So, I sat out in the cool night air, smoking, and used a finger of my right hand to split my labia. I found my clit, which wasn’t quite out of its hood, and gently rubbed it until it was hard. I took a deep breath, tilted my head, and blew a cloud of smoke straight up while smearing my honey around.

I stroked my clit, gently at first, then with increasing speed and pressure. My breathing picked up again, and my heart started beating hard again – but for a much happier reason this time. I could feel my orgasm building, so I backed off, intending to edge myself, getting closer, then backing off, then closer again, then backing off.

Finally, when I had reached a stage where I would be begging Mistress to let me cum – I let myself cum. I leaned forward on my knees, clamped my mouth closed, squinted my eyes tightly shut, and felt a great wave wash over me. I eventually had to open my mouth to breathe again, panting.

I found it a challenge to cum that hard without crying out, but I didn’t want any more of an audience than I already had. I knew there were a couple of guys who watched me play with myself out here. They kept their windows dark, and stood back – but I could see their eyes, gleaming out at me as they stroked their dicks. Perverts.

As long as they didn’t try to get any closer, I was okay with them watching. I was used to having men see me naked. I liked it.

~~~~~

My close brush with the police at Gregor’s store had spooked me, so I decided to go to ground for a few days. I left the store as inconspicuously as possible, then used back alleys and back fences to get to my flat. I knew how to get around Rotterdam without being seen. I’d been a gutter rat there for many months so being invisible was second nature to me.

When I got to the flat, I holed up there for three days, only venturing out to the fire escape and back, and then only at night.

I had gone to a lot of trouble to die, and I didn’t want to risk screwing it up by being found alive. I wouldn’t be able to do it a second time, so I had to wait until the police had probably stopped looking for me in Rotterdam. At that, I could have been surprised that they were looking for me at all – except I knew how much clout Hans had. It was undoubtedly his pressure that were pushing the police to see if I was still alive. Well, I had plans for Hans, too, but they would have to wait.

Although I had shouted at myself in my nightmare to find her killer, I knew that Miriam was with me and approved of my plans. I could hear the warm approval in her voice when she spoke to me.

Since I couldn’t get out and around the city, I decided to do some serious thinking instead. If I were the police, and intent on finding Miriam’s killer, whom would I have suspected?

I started by making a list of anyone close to her, anyone with a grudge, anyone with a reason to dislike her, or a motive to want her out of the way.

I was the number one suspect on my list. After all, most victims were killed by someone close to them, especially their husband or wife.

I had an alibi, but I looked at it as a police detective might, and tried to pick holes in it. If I got close to whoever had killed Miriam, they would probably try to drag another suspect across the police’s noses to distract them – and I was the best choice, especially if I were dead and couldn’t defend myself.

One by one I listed the ways I could have killed, or arranged or contracted to kill Mistress. I made notes about things to investigate, and things to examine, then finally set myself aside as a suspect, and went on to suspect number two: Hans.

Why Hans? Well, he was the second closest person to Miriam, plus he got a big financial windfall when she died. He was already in line to inherit from his parents, so if she was dead, he would get whatever they would have left her as well. It is certain they would never leave anything to me, the street scum Miriam married. So, there was a financial incentive for Hans.

I jotted down everything I could think of about Hans and Miriam, making notes about how such things might be related to the killing. This was just the start of my investigation, and I was merely brainstorming now. And, as I said, I had other plans for Hans – but they would have to wait until I got in touch with Gregor.

I also added several members of the Wolf family, starting with the asshole who objected to my inheriting from Miriam. I also included her parents. They didn’t approve of her lifestyle, and even less of her decision to marry me. They hated having me as a daugher-in-law. Now they could disown me.

Over those three days, I wrote and thought and smoked and tried to sleep, with mixed success. The face in the mirror looked haggard and horrible – not that I cared. I stopped looking.

I listed the members of the DeCoven BDSM Club that Miriam ran. I considered people who had either not liked Mistress, like that fat asshole whom I’d almost throttled at the Club, or who stood to gain, like Mistress Andrea. I didn’t actually believe Andrea would want Mistress dead, but I was going to make neither mistakes nor assumptions about it. After all, Andrea was the logical choice to succeed Mistress, so she went on the list, no matter how I felt about her.

Once I finished with DeCoven and other business contacts, I turned to outsiders, starting with the police. After all, they were the ones who had first examined her body, they were the ones who did such a slipshod job of investigating, and they were the ones who concluded that there was nothing further to find. It seemed too…pat. Definitely something to look into.

I even included that non-entity from the German consulate that accompanied the police when they informed me of Mistress’ death. As I said, I wasn’t going to make any assumptions, but would check out everyone I could think of.

The list was as complete as I could make it. It was as good as I could do while confined to my flat.

Once it was done, I decided to review what I remembered from the cop I seduced. As it was well after midnight, I crawled out onto the balcony with my blanket and cigarettes, and thought about him, and what I could remember about our encounters.

I realized that I had learned some very valuable things from him – more than he realized. Yet the details were in with my online notes, and I needed them and my laptop before I could get down to serious work.

Getting what I needed from the cop had taken patience – although I had some fun along the way. I smiled at the memory and took a drag on my cigarette.

~~~~~

Piers had been one of the two cops that broke the news to me about Mistress’ death. He had ridden with me in the ambulance when my waters broke and I went into labor.

My seduction of him was cold-blooded and deliberate. The police had information I needed, so I either needed an ally or a dupe, and I didn’t care which.

I knew that Piers found me attractive. It was too bad that he was actually a good guy, but I knew what I needed, and he had access to it. It was that simple.

I had been planning something like this since Hans told me he suspected that Miriam’s death was not an accident. I knew, from my own earlier run-ins with them, that police forces tend to be both officious and lazy, and their so-called investigation of Miriam’s death proved that in spades.

So, when I was still in the hospital after Hans had told me of his suspicions, and Piers came to visit me, I laid the groundwork for his seduction. He said he just wanted to check up on me, and see how I was doing. I told him how much I appreciated what he had done for me, and made him feel like a hero. I even grabbed and held his hand, weeping.

I knew from years of pandering to men’s egos that he was buying it. I could see him straighten up, square his shoulders, and his smile broadened. I thought perhaps I had laid it on too thick, but his demeanor told me he believed me.

When I was out of the hospital and back home, I made a point of inviting him to come visit us, to see the baby he had helped deliver, and I continued to show my appreciation. That’s all it was at this point – appreciation. I was taking it slow, and making it seem natural, even though I had been plotting this for weeks.

He took to stopping by to bring himself “up to date” on how I was doing, and to check if I was okay, or needed anything. And whenever I answered the door, I would always check the peephole to see who it was. If it was him, I always made sure I looked sad when I opened the door, then broke into a smile when I saw him. And I started flirting with him, lightly at first, and then more seriously as we got closer.

When I thought he was ready, I broke down and started sobbing during a visit.

I should have won an Academy Award for that performance.

But it did the trick – literally. He came over and put his arm awkwardly around me. I turned toward him and buried my face in his chest, then, after a while, looked up at him with tears streaming down my cheeks – then, impulsively, stretched up and kissed him.

I released all of my pent-up emotions, real and faked, and pulled him to me. After a kiss that got deeper and more passionate, I dragged him to the floor and wrapped my arms around him. And then my legs. I was the distraught widow, desperately seeking comfort in the arms of another, letting him know he would be an inhuman brute if he pulled away. I had him hooked – so I pulled hard on the line.

When I gauged that his cock was stiff, leaking, and ready, I sat up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the bedroom. He hesitated and dragged me to a stop.

I turned to him, anguish in my eyes, and said, “Please, Piers. I need someone. I need a hero. I need you!”

He gave up with no more resistance than that and followed me to the bedroom. Figuring it would be harder for him to run without his pants, I started tearing at his clothes like a frantic woman, and successfully stripped him in a few seconds flat. Well, I had a lot of experience.

Then I took my clothes off. Slowly. I knew the way to a man’s prick, and hurrying while taking my own clothes off wasn’t it. Instead, I pretended to be shy, even embarrassed about letting him see me naked but made damn sure he did.

I pulled back the covers to the bed and got in. I stretched one leg far into the bed, making sure he got a clear view of my pink, puffy pussy lips, and saw his eyes widen as he did. I snuggled under the duvet, covering up the nakedness he had just seen, then held out a hand to him.

He hesitated, his prick swaying up and down, then slid under the covers, and took me in his arms. I could have guided us to a quick, mutually satisfactory orgasm, but I wanted him to lead so went passive. Whatever he wanted to do, I eagerly went along, as if he were an amazing lover.

In truth, he wasn’t bad, but young and a bit clumsy. Eager, though, and ready for it. Normally in a situation like this, I would have gone down on him and sucked his cock. I thought about it but decided it would be out of character, so instead, rolled onto my back after he had been petting me for long enough, and spread my legs wide. I looked expectantly at him, with big, sorrowful eyes.

He took the hint and got up on his knees, positioning his cock at my slit, then slowly started to push himself in.

It wasn’t hard as I was quite hot and wet. It had been weeks since I had been properly fucked, and I had missed it. All other things being equal, would I have chosen Piers? Probably not, but he was warm, gentle, and reasonably well-endowed, so I allowed myself to enjoy having him plunge into me – and encouraged him to go deeper by placing my heels on his back and pulling him in each time he pushed.

He gradually picked up the pace, and before too long was getting close to cumming. I wanted him to cum hard rather than fast, so I slowed things down by moving slightly, making it more awkward for him to move, slowing the pace. Then I put my hand on his chest, breathing hard, and looking down. I gave him the impression that he was going too hard for me, and he graciously stopped – which was what I wanted. After a while, when I judged he had cooled down some, I shifted again, smiled up at him, and pulled him close and kissed him, helping to get started again by moving my hips.

I did this for a while – letting him get close, then cooling him down, then starting again, until finally, he came. I came, too. At the start, I was faking it, but very shortly after that, it was real and I enjoyed it.

When he collapsed on top of me – while holding much of his weight on his arms and knees like a gentleman should – I put my arms around his neck and snuggled into him.

He rolled off, then collected me into the elbow of his arm. I cuddled up to him.

“Thank you, Piers. I, uh, I’m embarrassed to say that I needed that, but it’s true. Thank you.” And I kissed his cheek, then burrowed into his side, sighing.

He turned and smiled at me. “You are welcome. I know this is technically inappropriate behavior for a constable, but…it seemed like the right thing to do.” He stroked my hair, and I noted that I had blackmail material if I wanted it. Especially with the security cameras rolling.

Gradually we started talking. First, I talked about how devastating this all was, and how much I appreciated what the police, generally, had done, and how he particularly was doing such a great job. I slowly worked the conversation around to what happened to Mistress, although I called her “Miriam.” He was reluctant to talk about the case, but, after thinking it through, he started to tell me things that he felt were neither secret nor sensitive.

I worked hard at being amazed at how brilliantly they were doing all this great detective work but knew I couldn’t get too much out of him at first. Instead, I made sure he knew how impressed I was with his brilliance – quickly transferring the brilliance of the police generally into his, personal genius at detecting.

I also made sure he knew just how lonely and distraught I was, and how much his comfort meant to me. I meant to eventually see and hear everything the police had – and I didn’t care how I got it.

Besides, as I’ve said before, I like sex, and he wasn’t bad.

To be fair, I taught him a lot about how to please a woman – and made sure he had a great time, too. He came off of the whole thing not badly at all. He had the best sex ever and was taught how to be a pretty good lover. I’d say we both benefited.

~~~~~

My seduction of Piers worked out very well on other levels as well. Not only did I get some pleasure out of it, but I learned everything the police knew, and I read – and photographed! – some of the documents that Piers had brought to me regarding the case.

I fucked him several times over the period of time from when I left the hospital to when I died. In fact, the last time I had him was two days before my disappearance. I partly set the stage on that occasion by acting melancholy and grateful, and failing to cum, which surprised him.

“I’m fine, Piers, really,” I told him. “It’s just that’s sometimes, I get weepy and wish that it never happened, and wonder what I could have done differently, and…”

“Stop it, Nika! You had no involvement in what happened, so it couldn’t possibly be your fault.” He exhaled, then smiled at me. “They’re talking about closing the investigation, but, as I’ve told you, I think there are enough loose ends that I’m going to try to chase some of them down on my own time. We’ll get to the truth, you and I – okay?”

I smiled bravely through my tears, waited a while, and then said, “You’re so good to me, Piers. I don’t know what I will do without you.”

His smile faded. “What do you mean ‘will do without me?’”

I brushed it off. “I meant would do, that’s all. I just said it wrong. Pay no attention to me. I’m just all…screwed up.” Now I exhaled deeply then turned away. “I miss Miriam.”

I figured by that time that I had learned all I could directly from Piers, and my plans for disappearing were pretty well set, so I added, “Piers?”

He looked at me and smiled, stroking my breast. “Yes, Nika.”

I started to speak, then stopped, bit my lip, then said, “Nothing. Just…thank you.”

He smiled, and said, “You’re welcome, Nika. It was not only my duty but my pleasure, too,” and he leaned in to kiss me.

So, I guess I have only myself to blame that Piers is now looking for me for personal reasons, as well as doing his duty as a policeman. I needed the information he had, but I could do without his devotion to finding me now!

~~~~~

I acted out similar plays for other people around me. My doctors, the nanny, the other police, my therapists – they all got little hints that they would later look back on and say, “I wish I’d paid more attention!” But I had to be subtle. I didn’t want anyone imposing any kind of intervention on me!

The hardest to convince would have been Hans because he knew me so well, so I did my act off-stage for him. I made sure that I wasn’t going to see him and Marie in person for more than a week before I died. Instead, I video-recorded a farewell message to him, and saved it on a thumb drive, then placed the thumb drive in a hiding place the only he, Miriam, and I knew about. Miriam and I had used it to store important documents – plus some of our favorite porn.

In this video, I had recorded myself telling Hans that it was no good, that I just couldn’t make it without Miriam, that Eric would be so much better off with him and Marie than he would with me, and I was just a drag on everyone. I wept openly while I recorded this, and told him of my plans to commit suicide, and that I knew he would find this later – and would he please forgive me?

That should have earned me my second Oscar. In fact, I teared up when I watched it to see whether I need to redo it or not. I did, in fact, redo it several times until I felt it was just right.

I taped a label on the thumb drive, “Hans”, and hoped he would do what I expected with it.

Later I was notified that he had, for I had put a Trojan horse on the thumb drive. When he plugged it into his personal computer, it wrote itself into one of his system files, started running, then erased the file from the thumb drive, all while the video was playing.

I now had access to all of Hans’ personal files – and, when he communicated with his work computer, I would also have access there, too, as the Trojan horse would tag along on any transmissions emanating from his computer.

This opened doors to a lot of other people’s computers as well, most of which I ignored, but some of which later proved to be useful.

The Trojan horse did one more thing for me: it gave me an untraceable way to communicate with Hans. I could go online, check an indicator to see if Hans was using his computer, then sign into his mail server and write a draft email saved on his hard drive. To Hans, it would pop up the next time he booted or woke his computer, yet no one else would be able to read it because it would never be sent.

But I wasn’t ready for that yet.

~~~~~

After three days of hiding in my flat, I decided I could risk seeing Gregor. In fact, I had to in order to take my investigation any further because he had all of my equipment.

During the period I had spent convincing everyone that I was all right, I made several trips down to Rotterdam to visit Gregor. Sometimes I even took Eric with me. I told people I needed to get away from Amsterdam, go for a ride, clear my head, and perhaps visit old friends. The only one who knew that I only had one friend in Rotterdam was Hans – and I was very careful about what I told him.

Miriam had owned two cars – the 1999 BMW M850i xDrive convertible she was driving when she was murdered, and an older black Mercedes sedan that we used for shopping and errands. I took the sedan on my trips down to Rotterdam, usually with a load of equipment and supplies in the trunk, which I left with Gregor. We also discussed my plans, and I asked for his help with a few of my more…unofficial…needs.

But the way I went to Gregor’s place this time was a little unusual. I broke in.

It was late evening when Gregor walked into his study and switched on the light – only to find me sitting on his settee. He paused momentarily, then said, “So, are you back to your old ways?”

“What do you mean, Papi?”

“You broke into my house and you look like a whore.”

I stood up, walked over to him, gave him a hug, and said, “Ja, Papi. Your delinquent daughter has come home to roost!”

He laughed, “Well, about fucking time you showed up. The police almost convinced me you really were dead. Then what would I have done with these?” He opened a desk drawer desk, flipped open a hidden compartment, and took out a fake ID and a stack of cash, which he handed to me.

“So, what’s really going on? Not this crap you handed the cops. They almost think you’re dead – except that young one. What did you do to him? He doesn’t want you to be dead.”

I shrugged, “I fucked him. I guess he got attached to me is all. He can’t keep the investigation going – the police have too many other, more important cases. If it weren’t for Hans, they would have stopped long ago. It’ll blow over.

“By the way, Papi, you’re probably going to be under surveillance for a while.”

He shrugged. “It’ll be like old times. Who cares? Now, enough of the crap. I need to get to bed. What’s going on?”

So, I briefed him on my suicide, the things I’d found out, and the things I needed to find out. He just sat and looked at me with the lines on his face getting, if anything, deeper as I told him what I knew and suspected. I never considered holding out on him. There were only two people I truly trusted in my life: Gregor was one, and Mistress was dead.

When I was done, he just nodded, then reached into his desk file drawer and retrieved my sling bag and laptop. He said he'd reach out to some of his contacts for the information I wanted.

I stood up, and watched him lever himself slowly out of his chair, then closed the distance between us and hugged him hard.

I pulled back slightly and said, “Thank you, Papi. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I appreciate that you’re here for me.”

He gently pushed me away, and mumbled, “Go on, get out of here.” And when I turned, he smacked me on the butt, and said, “But be careful. You might annoy some dangerous people, okay?”

I nodded, checked the back window, then slipped out the door and faded into the Rotterdam night, just another working girl hauling ass home.