I’ve seen enough coke productions in my time to understand why the women are all naked—the boss doesn’t want to lose product if one of his workers decides to stuff an eight ball into a pocket to take home for later—but the guards? It makes no sense why they would be naked, and yet they are. Dicks everywhere. Natalia, myself and Ocho: we are literally the only three people wearing clothes in the entire facility. Natalia’s father must be really fucking paranoid if he doesn’t even trust his own guards not to steal from him. Awkwardly, the guard standing closest to us has a raging boner, his cock standing to attention. He has a tight, uncomfortable look on his face that makes me want to burst out laughing.
“Poor Matteas,” Natalia says, smirking. She openly stares at his dick, head angled to one side, as if assessing its size and girth. “He just started working on the floor. It can be very…hard for these guys at first. My father likes to chose young, beautiful women to cut his product. Stupid really. If he picked old, fat, saggy women, none of the men would be distracted by all the bare pussy around here.”
If she’s bothered by all the cocks, or the “bare pussy” as she so eloquently phrased it, then Natalia does an excellent job of hiding her discomfort. She’s probably been around this kind of thing her whole life, and had plenty of time to become desensitized to it all. I’ve seen members of the club back in New Mexico fuck their wives on the pool table in the club house; I’ve seen people having threesomes behind the bar, and I’ve seen guys being blown left, right and center. I’ve never seen anything quite like this, though. The women are all beautiful, and the guards lining the room all know it, I’m sure. Most of them have a stern, focused look on their faces, as they undoubtedly try to avoid getting an erection like the poor bastard to our left.
“Is this just for entertainment?”
Natalia places her hand on my arm and gestures for me to walk with her. “No. It’s more…diversionary. If workers are coming in here every day, totally naked, then they’re not plotting how to steal, or how to take power from my father. They’re too busy looking at each other’s bodies to think of anything else.”
A good idea, I guess. But wouldn’t fear alone keep them from trying anything so stupid? I felt like asking, but the bored look on Natalia’s face makes me rethink that. She turns and points to the other side of the room, a hundred feet away, where a single door, painted blue, provides the only pop of color in the entire room. “My father’s office is through there,” she advises me. “He hates to be disturbed, but I’m sure he won’t mind a visit from a foreign businessman like yourself.”
I look down at myself, taking in my t-shirt, dusty jeans, and my equally dusty, fucked-up leather jacket, and I wonder how many foreign businessmen come through Orellana.
“We have to get off the floor now. If we don’t, we’ll be too high to talk by the time we sit down with him.” Natalia stalks off toward the blue door, and the women workers, their faces covered in dust masks, all watch her with envy in their eyes as she passes them by. I wonder how many of them want to stab her in the back at the earliest opportunity. I’m willing to bet money that all of them do.
I glance over my shoulder, and Ocho hasn’t followed us; he’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at a girl’s ass as she measures out powder into little baggies, weighing each one, and tossing them onto a bucket. She doesn’t seem to care that he’s checking her out at all.
Natalia knocks quietly on the blue door, stepping back, and then clasping her hands behind her back. Her fingernails are dirty. I don’t know why I notice that, or why it makes me like her even more, but it does. A second later, the door whips open and a tall, incredibly skinny man is glaring at us down the length of his very straight, very long nose. A pair of tortoise shell glasses are perched on the very end of said nose; he peers at us through them like the prescription might not have been updated in a couple of years.
“Natalia. Who is this man?” he asks in a clipped voice. His accent is far thicker than Natalia’s; I’m sure they would normally speak to one another in Spanish, but he must have taken one look at me and known I wasn’t from around these parts, just as Natalia did back by the booby trapped buildings.
“Says his name is Sam Garrett. We found him snooping around outside the old outpost. He hasn’t said why he’s here yet. I brought him straight to you, Papa.”
The tall, spare guy with the glasses squints at me, frowning. His skin is much darker than Natalia’s; her mother must have been white. The guy straightens his back, and blows a deep breath out down his nose. “I am Fernando Villalobos, and you, my friend, have either made a very grave mistake by wandering onto my land, or you have a very good reason for being here. Which is it?”
It appears as though I’m standing before the very man I’ve come looking for. Hatred coils in the pit of my stomach like a snake. Is this the man who took Laura? How can that be true? He doesn’t look remotely capable of kidnapping anyone. His shirt is neatly pressed and tucked into his pants. His hair is trimmed in the most conservative, boring style imaginable. If I went to see my accountant and sat down in front of this guy, I wouldn’t even blink. “Oh, yeah. I have a really good reason.”
Fernando removes his glasses and sighs. “Which is?”
“Drugs. I want to buy a fuck load of drugs.”