A Very Long Weekend at the San Lotos Spa (Shiva x Victorian_Virtue)

[Shiva the Cat]

Jesus, the crusty old bastard could have at least sprung for something with a view Johanna thought as the car share dropped her off in the middle of the business park. The buildings, while newer and in relatively good condition, were of the same nondescript two- and three-story type that could have been found anywhere in the U.S.. They were mostly occupied by small administrative establishments, independent doctor's offices, and insignificant law firms, when they were occupied at all. Several of the nearest ones looked to be almost entirely vacant, but the parking lot of the largest building—a four-story brutalist fortress edged in fake-looking geranium beds—was packed to the gills.

And not with the aging sedans and dented SUVs common to the other buildings. No, these were luxury vehicles, carefully guarded by a grumpy-looking man built like a retired linebacker. Whenever anyone exited the building to retrieve their car, they too were more often than not sharply dressed in designer clothing, faces often hidden behind sunglasses that cost more than a month of Johanna's rent. That was unsurprising though: the San Lotos Spa was famous among its celebrity clientele.

Under normal circumstances, there was no way in hell Johanna Belknap would ever be able to afford even an hour at the spa, let alone an entire weekend. Even after five years, the company barely paid enough to cover the expenses of her crummy studio apartment, and the closest thing to a vacation she ever took was an extra long lunch break at the corporate gym.

Which, to be fair, paid off. Johanna had a body most of her female coworkers would have killed for: tall, skinny, with tits that were noticeable, but still small enough not to encumber her physical hobbies, and a tight, hard ass that was the result of an infinite number of squats, almost all of which were completed on company time. Her face was pretty with its sharp angles and olive complexion, but it would have been prettier with makeup, or at least a smile. Alas, her plush lips were usually pressed together in a frown, and her dark brows were often knit in frustration at the day-to-day bullshit of the office, earning her the unofficial title of “Queen of R.B.F”--resting bitch face, naturally. The fact that her luxurious mane of thick black hair was usually pulled away from her face in a severe ponytail or bun probably didn't help things, nor did the company-mandated uniform of the tight black trousers, drab white button-down shirt, and severe black blazer.

Today at least though she was dressed more comfortably, in jeans, sneakers, and a brown leather jacket over a tank top emblazoned with Frida Kahlo's face. Her hair, worn loose for once, was caught in the early summer breeze as her brown eyes gazed on the door of the San Lotos Spa with more than a little derision. If Frank was going to try to cover his ass with her by sending her to a spa for the weekend, couldn't he at least send her to a good one? Or at the very least, one with a pool? For Christ's sake, it was probably nicer out in the parking lot than it was in there.

But then again...Maggie in Accounting had been to the San Lotos before, and she swore by it. Granted she had only been able to afford an hour, and it had been a gift from her husband for their twentieth wedding anniversary, but she had assured Johanna that even that short time had been worth it. “It feels like you're in there a whole day, even if it's only an hour,” the older woman had testified when she learned about her colleague's upcoming visit. “I can't imagine what a weekend would be like. Why, you'll probably get to do four or five different sessions! You're so lucky, Jo-Jo. It's an amazing experience, I hope I get to go back someday.”

Yeah, so lucky to have a boss like Frank, who didn't know how to keep his hands to himself. On more than one occasion their illustrious president had cornered Johanna in an elevator or an empty conference room and taken the liberty of enjoying a grope or two. For the most part she had always been able to brush it off, mutter some half-hearted threat about going to HR and retreat to the safety of the Recruiting department, where she was queen (or at least a duchess). But last time he'd gone too far, offering—no, demanding—she sleep with him in exchange for a promotion.

That was where Johanna had to draw the line. She really did go to HR this time, and even though Patsy seemed hesitant to file the report, something must have gone through, because only hours later she got an email from Frank (well, Frank's secretary) apologizing that she had so misconstrued what was supposed to be a joke. Along with those half-assed sentiments, the email had included reservation information for the San Lotos Spa in her name: a peace offering. And there couldn't be anything inappropriate about it, because treatments at the San Lotos Spa were strictly solo, so there was no way Johanna was going to show up and find Frank laying naked on a massage bed waiting for her with a handful of baby oil.

At first she hadn't wanted to accept the offer, but when she had next spoken with Patsy she had suggested Johanna take the deal and forget about the whole mess. She would personally ensure Frank never acted inappropriately towards Johanna again, otherwise she would be more than happy to help find an outside lawyer to see the young woman was treated fairly. Besides, did Johanna really want to be without a job? If she crossed him, Frank could certainly make it difficult for her to find another.

And so Johanna had hung her head in defeat, left the office, and confirmed her reservation for the upcoming weekend. She was instructed to bring only her medical information (in case of emergencies) and a change of clothes if she wished, and everything else would be taken care of for her. Truth be told, she half expected the reservation to be a scam, but all the same when she walked into the blinding-white lobby of the spa and gave her name, the receptionist had no problem finding her in the system.

“It will be just a few minutes, Miss Belknap, and a host will be with you shortly,” the receptionist remarked in an overly cheerful tone. “May I get you something to drink in the meantime?”

“No, thank you,” Johanna answered, looking around at the long halls that stretched to her left and right, wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into. Although the vibe of the place might have been relaxing for some, to her it seemed a little too much like a hospital...or a science lab. For a moment she considered turning around and walking right back out the door, but before she could she heard someone else enter the lobby.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Johanna couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when she saw the outfit she was expected to wear. Latex, of all things? Is this Frank's idea of a joke? she wondered, then recalled that she'd seen people wearing something similar on the website, though she'd assumed it was more like a wetsuit than a rubbersuit. For a moment, her mouth twitched in a wry grin, trying to imagine Maggie in Accounting trying to wrangle her middle-aged post-kids body into the garment. Well, if she could do it, so could Johanna, although as she began to strip out of her clothing she was careful to look for any signs of hidden cameras around. Somehow it didn't seem completely unreasonable that someone in the building was probably having a good time watching people trying to put the damn suits on.

Luckily, Johanna herself didn't have too much trouble, though the latex did draw particular attention to her usually unremarkable curves. Both her tits and her ass looked about twice their size as they were squeezed and lifted into place by the latex, and when she was ready to step out from behind the curtain she couldn't help but feel a little bit like a rubber sex doll. "This had better be goddamn worth it," she grumbled to herself, tying her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face, and when she met up with Dr. Geary again her expression was probably far from friendly.

The office reminded her a little bit of the server rooms at her office: cold, and full of flashing electrical things she absolutely did not understand. Crossing her arms in front of her chest (just in case the chill gave Dr. Geary a little more of a view than she would have liked), she looked him up and down as though she were sizing him up for a fight. "So, how does all of this stuff work, anyway? It's safe right? Because I'm not really looking to get electrocuted or anything like that." Johanna tried to remember if she'd heard of any incidents tied to the spa, but nothing was coming to her mind.

She was so intent on remembering at first she didn't realized Dr. Geary had asked her a question. "Fantasies? Um...I'm not really sure, to be honest. I was expecting you'd have like, a menu or something that I could pick from. I'm not exactly a history buff..." Indeed, most of what Johanna knew about history was what she had seen in movies. Maybe she could try going back to cowboy days? It might be nice to ride a horse across an open prairie; definitely a contrast from being stuck in the city all the time. Or maybe something in the 1920s? A Gatsby-esque party would be fun, but if she wasn't actually drinking all of that illegal liquor and it was just a simulation, what was even the point?

Johanna began to stroke her ponytail thoughtfully. It would be dumb to waste the experience partying, she could do that in real life. She should try to think of something she would never be able to do in the real world, something dangerous and probably stupid. Basejumping, scuba diving....but they didn't seem good enough either. Those were just dumb thrills, not anything meaningful.

Then the idea occurred to her. Surprising as it may have sounded, it had never been Johanna Belknap's plan to be a Recruiter for Studebaker Technologies. In fact, until she was sixteen, it had been her dream to be a police officer, just like her father. Then during her junior year, Joseph Belknap was shot by a bank robber and died on the scene, and his widow had made all of her children swear they would never join the force, but find nice safe desk jobs where it was almost impossible to be killed by a stray bullet. Johanna had upheld that promise, but had always wondered how her life might have been different if her father hadn't been killed.

On top of it, watching old detective movies had been a particular bonding activity she'd enjoyed with her dad, her favorites being the ones where the detective took down the gangster. While Johanna understood there was a good deal of creative license in those movies, if she had to pick a time to live again, hands down that would have been it. Turning her gaze back towards Dr. Geary, she tilted her head slightly.

"Do you have anything with like a Maltese Falcon feel to it? Maybe Little Caesar? I wouldn't mind the chance to take down Al Capone," she replied with a slight grin. "I mean, I get that they weren't great about letting women join police forces back then, but I wouldn't mind a little vigilante justice if I had to take it. I think I really just want to blast some bad guys, you know?" She made a gun out of her thumb and forefinger and pointed it at him, raising an eyebrow in the process. "Sounds pretty cathartic after the week I've had..."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

One of Johanna's dark brows arched at the doctor's speech. "Look, I ah...appreciate the pitch, but you should know I'm only here because someone else paid for it. I doubt I'll have the money to come back here again, so we can just skip the Imagineering bullshit and cut to the chase. Do I put on a headset or something?" she asked, remembering the old VR setups she had seen in the old movies and TV shows she'd streamed on her computer back home. She was surprised and a little relieved when the doctor had revealed something that looked like a sensory deprivation pod instead. At least with a setup like that, guests of the spa wouldn't feel like they were getting ripped off and spending thousands of dollars on a glorified video game setup.

She was a little bit nervous though as she approached the tank. Johanna didn't consider herself claustrophobic exactly, but somehow getting shut up in the box was beginning to lose its appeal. "And no one's ever drowned in there? Or suffocated?" she asked, glancing back towards Dr. Geary. Drugs she could handle; she'd been to college and had done her share of experimentation. Even the idea of poking around in her mind wasn't too terrible; what was the worst that could happen? She'd no longer be able to do her scintilliating work of hiring new floozies for Frank to harass? What a shame.

Dr. Geary had assured her though there'd never been a single injury, and curiosity was beginning to overcome her hesitance. She didn't protest when it was time to finally climb into the egg, but somehow Johanna wasn't loving the look on the operator's face as she did so. Stupid fucking fetishwear catsuit she thought, realizing exactly where his eyes were going. As soon as she got home, she was going to research all that she could to see if it was really necessary to dress like a BDSM club waitress in order for all this to work. She might have been willing to buy the rest of the explanations of the system, but that one still seemed sketchy to her.

The chamber was empty when Johanna laid down, pausing to pull her long ponytail over her shoulder so it wouldn't put strain on the back of her neck. "See you on the other side, I guess," she mumbled as the lid closed unceremoniously, and she was left alone in the darkness. But not for long.

She could hear three musical chimes that seemed to surround her entire head, and a moment later she could feel the pod beginning to fill with liquid. For a moment her heart rate spiked as she felt the water level coming close to her face, but either it never quite covered her mouth and nose, or if it did she couldn't tell. Johanna's grip on the joystick loosened somewhat as her body relaxed and began to float in such a way that she felt almost weightless, and after what might have been a few seconds--or a few minutes--a brief, violent dizziness overcame her. It sort of felt like how sometimes when she would lay in bed at night, half-asleep and half-dreaming she was walking, and all of a sudden she would be convinced she had tripped and was falling on her face.

But the impact of the fall never came. Johanna could no longer be sure if she was laying down or standing up, and the darkness was leaving her senses confused. She reached up with her left hand, trying to feel for the lid of the capsule, but nothing was there. She couldn't even feel the liquid surrounding her body anymore, and her arms and legs were beginning to go strangely numb. Detachedly, it occurred to her that all of these sensations should be causing at least a little bit of panic in her mind, but all she could feel was a quiet curiosity. Narcotics she reminded herself. You should get your hands on some of these...

Johanna might have laid in the tank for a minute, or an hour, or a full day. Time was evaporating from her mind like mist on a warm morning, and she was content to let it go. But just as she was about to give herself over completely to the darkness and slip into a blissful sleep, something broke through. A soft, distorted piano tinkling out a familiar tune. Reflexively her lips began to move along in time. She knew this song, she'd heard it in some old black and white movie with Lena Horne. God she'd had so many great outfits in that movie. There was one in particular that stood out in mind, a close fitting gauzy black number emblazoned with seed pearls along the bustline and sleeves, with a couple silver accents near the shoulders that matched her earrings. Tomboy as she was at times, Johanna would have loved to own a dress like that.

And as soon as the thought crossed her mind, it seemed to come true. Johanna could see herself, clear as day, dressed in Lena Horne's gown (from Stormy Weather, that was the movie, she remembered with some pride). It hugged her hips and emphasized her bust sharply, and somehow her loose wavy hair had been bound up in victory rolls, drawing attention to her long neck. She was wearing makeup, dark eyeliner and a killer red lipstick, but as she eyed the paint job something startling occurred to her. Other than the lipstick, the image before her was entirely in black and weight. And not just the figure of Johanna herself, but the background as well, which seemed to be a nicely decorated powder room, framed in ornate gold (or silver, it was hard to tell with the lack of color).

It occurred to her then that Johanna was looking in a mirror, but when she looked down at herself sure enough: everything really was in black and white, albeit her high-heeled shoes were a shade of red that exactly matched her lipstick. This is the weirdest thing she thought, but then she remembered how Dr. Geary had said she wouldn't be going into a historically accurate fantasy, but rather one concocted by her own mind. Most of the movies she associated with the 1920s and 30s were in black and white, so it made sense that was what she might see.

"Everything all right, Miss Belknap?" a voice asked, and the woman jumped sharply as she realized she wasn't alone in the powder room. Standing near the door a middle-aged woman was holding a tray of toiletries, as well as a cup full of change. It was becoming clear that wherever Johanna was, it had to be quite the classy place.

"Um, no, I'm fine thanks," she said, realizing that she was holding a small clutch that, like her shoes and her lips, was also red. When she opened it up, she found a small stack of bills and some loose coins, along with an ID card for the U.S. Treasury Department of all things. But of course, wasn't that what the doctor had said she was doing? Might as well get in character and enjoy it. Smiling at the bathroom attendant, she dropped a quarter in the cup, which earned a soft gasp of surprise in response. Whoops, better figure out exchange rates Johanna chuckled softly as she stepped out the door.

On the other side she could finally understand where the music was coming from. She was in the middle of a busy nightclub, packed full of men and women in elegant clothes drinking champagne and dancing with each other to a live jazz combo on a stage at the far end of the room. Like in the bathroom, the scene was entirely in black and white, although here and there she could see additional pops of color, usually on the women's dresses or the flowers on the men's lapels. "Wow..." she breathed, avoiding a passing waiter and wondering what to do first. She caught sight of a long bar on the side of the room, and smiled slightly. Now that she knew she had money, might as well spend a little, government employee or no.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

The bartender bore more than a passing resemblance to the one from The Shining, but the idea barely passed through Johanna's mind as he handed her a dainty saucer of champagne. As she raised it to her lips, she marveled at the fact she could not only smell the sweet scent of the drink, but hear and even feel the bubbles tickling at her nose. What the simulation had skimped on in the color department, it was more than making up for in the other details of the world. She could even taste the champagne and feel it tingling in her mouth and her brain as she swallowed.

It might be nice to sit at the bar all night, drinking illegal virtual hooch and listening to jazz, but something inside her (was it programming, or her own intuition?) told her that would be a bad move. She was supposed to be doing something, but what?

Again, just as the dress had appeared on her body as she thought of it, she felt something brushing against her thigh. As stealthily as she could without flashing the man on the stool beside her, Johanna brushed her fingers against her thigh until they met with cold metal. She smiled amusedly to herself. Of course she had a derringer, why the hell wouldn't she? Never mind that it was supposed to be 1920, but she was clearly wearing a 1940s dress, and she was pretty sure the band was playing a song from 1937 and everything was in black in white. You are so bad at history she scolded herself, taking another drink of the champagne. Maybe that was why the simulations tapped into people's brains instead of using real events. It sure as hell must have been easier to program if you could throw things like accuracy out the window.

"I heard youse was one of us."

The voice was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Looking up from her drink, Johanna realized a man had taken a seat beside her at the bar, and not just any man. He was devastatingly good looking, and at first she tried to search her memory to see if she recognized his face from her memory. Not that she could say she knew him personally, but she would have expected this particularly character to be played by some old Hollywood actor or something. And while she thought she saw a glimpse of Gregory Peck's jawline or maybe Marlon Brando's lips, there was no doubting that the man beside her was something wholly unique unto himself. Like the rest of the room he was entirely in black and white, except for his eyes. Those were a piercing, almost hypnotic blue.

After looking him up and down, Johanna turned her gaze coolly back to her drink. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Guess it depends on who's asking," she remarked, taking another sip. The champagne was really beginning to get to her now, which was crazy considering she usually drank straight whiskey in the real world. Not only that, but something about the man's presence was definitely provoking a certain reaction in her. Jesus, he's not THAT hot she told herself, but felt herself getting a little warm between the legs nonetheless. At the same time it occurred to her that while she was technically wearing a bra beneath the dress, it wasn't the tight, padded sports bras she was used to wearing at home. This was just a flimsy piece of silk that would probably do nothing to hide her nipples, and rather emphasized her breasts rather than supporting them.

It was a good thing almost everything was in black and white, otherwise she might have worried her cheeks would show a flush and break her calm demeanor. In a further attempt to hide her flustered state, Johanna reached into her clutch and pulled out an ebony cigarette case, sliding one of the long white sticks between her lips. "If you're gonna stare, you could at least give me a light," she remarked, turning back to him and tilting her head up slightly.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

His hands were steady and slightly callused; the hands of a man who had probably lit cigarettes for a lot of women. Even though Johanna rarely smoked in what she was beginning to consider "the real world" (though it was hard to believe the nightclub and its inhabitants were nothing more than a bastard child of her own mind and a computer simulation) the tobacco tasted particular good and was doing a spectacular job at centering her mind after the champagne. At least, until the blue-eyed man leaned over to whisper in her ear with his velvet soft voice, sending a shiver down the back of her neck and causing her to instinctively cross her legs.

"Oh yeah? What's my friend's name? I feel like I ought to thank him for his kind hospitality," she murmured, turning away slightly to avoid blowing smoke in his face. Her eyes fell on the band momentarily, and she blinked. Something seemed off. Johanna was no musician herself, but somehow the man playing piano didn't quite seem to be matching the tempo of the music. There also seemed to be way too many clarinets playing at what looked like full blast, but she couldn't hear a note of them over the two horn players near the front. And the music itself seemed distorted somehow, growing louder and softer as the songs seemed to flow into one another.

Johanna shook her head sharply. Was it the cigarette, or still the alcohol that was playing tricks on her? Or was it the mysterious blue-eyed man beside her that had evoked such a primal, powerful reaction in her that the rest of her senses couldn't keep up? Either way, she crushed out the smoke and pushed the half-empty saucer away, and was about to confront her "friend" more aggressively when she saw he had disappeared entirely. "Typical," she sighed. Why did the handsome ones always have to run off? Well, with booze and cigarettes off the table (at least until she could figure out what was going on), that didn't leave much else to occupy her mind. For a moment she opened her purse, instinctively looking for her phone, but of course there was nothing there except her wallet, lipstick, a cigarette case, and...good lord, was that a switchblade?

Who packed this fucking thing?

There was little time to dwell on the matter however, considering the heavy hand that had pressed onto her shoulder. At first Johanna though it might be old blue eyes coming back to apologize for bailing on her, but handsome and blue-eyed this new fellow was not. Indeed, he looked like a rather unfortunate hybrid of a boar and an ape, and the expression on his face was about as cheerful as a trainwreck. "And who might you be, pal?" she asked, shutting her clutch quickly in the hopes that he wouldn't have noticed the knife. She also tugged down her skirt a little more, ensuring the gun on her thigh wouldn't be revealed either.

If the guy noticed he didn't say anything, either regarding his name or her weapons. Instead, he very firmly escorted her away from the bar and down to a guarded door near the end of the room. For a moment Johanna considered shouting out for help, but those patrons that noticed her predicament only stared at her dumbly, almost like unconcerned animals. The rest were all too busy dancing and drinking to look her way at all. At least once she and the goon had passed through the door he promptly released her and stepped back, shutting the door the way a zookeeper might shut a lion cage after throwing in a poor defenseless rabbit.

Well, not THAT defenseless Johanna reminded herself as she stepped forward towards the only other occupant of the room. He was an older, heavyset man, and vaguely familiar. Maybe it was because his clothes and slicked back hair reminded her of every mafia stereotype she'd ever seen, but his face in particular stuck out in her mind. Unlike with the blue-eyed man, there was absolutely no way this man could have been mistaken for an actor. But all the same, Johanna was sure she'd seen his face on a screen before, either in the news or on a documentary or some other less-interesting format.

As with all of her other interactions so far, it seemed best to just play along whenever someone assumed she knew something, so when the man stated that she knew who he was, she didn't argue. Instead she moved closer, looking to sit down across the desk from him, but finding there were absolutely no other seats available. What, was she supposed to just stand in front of him like a naughty schoolgirl then? Well if so, might as well give him the attitude of one. "Belknap," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight so one hip jutted out slightly. "And I gotta wonder: do you make all visitors to your place go through the third degree, or am I just special?"

She held his gaze as long as she could, but a movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention away for a moment. There was a large window on the far wall the looked out into the bar, and after a moment she realized she'd been sitting directly in front of a two-way mirror the entire time. Her heart rate jumped a little, but she did her best to keep the devil-may-care posture when she looked back at the man. "I'm in town visiting my sick cousin Gertrude, she suggested I check this place out for a good time. And I've gotta say, so far its been kind of a disappointment. In fact, I was just about to leave when that big galoot dragged me away from the bar, so if you want me outta here I'd be happy to oblige..."

Johanna turned slightly as if ready to head for the door, but she wasn't so dumb as to turn her back on him entirely. As a matter of fact, she was even looking around the room for other options of egress, or if worse came to worst, something she could maneuver between the big man and herself. But as far as she could tell, there was just the door leading into the bar, and another one leading into...oh lord, she didn't even want to know what he did back there. Cross that one off the list of exits she mentally reminded herself, tightening the grip on her clutch.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"No sir, I believe Belknap is French," Johanna replied, bringing one hand up thoughtfully under her chin. "But my daddy's from Indianapolis, so make of that what you will." Still taking care not to turn her back on the man, she began to pace slowly towards the mirror, gazing out disinterestedly at the crowd that didn't miss her at all. "As for that fella who gave me a light...never seen him before in my life. And a girl can't help it if she's pretty and draws men like moths to a flame, can she?" Looking back towards him, she flashed a dazzling smile as if to demonstrate the point. "Anyway, once I told him about my big, mean, Sicilian boyfriend he backed off. If your guys don't see to it that pretty boy meets with an unfortunate accident, I'm sure mine will," she added with a wink.

Was it purely the simulation, or had she always been this good at lying on her feet? Johanna had never dated a Sicilian in her life, and she certainly didn't have a boyfriend of any nationality. If he asks, tell him it's Michael Corleone she told herself as she began to scrutinize her host more closely. He'd probably believe her regardless; his face wasn't exactly one that screamed intelligence. In fact there was something sort of rat-ish about it, despite the hulking body and drooping jowls.

Rizzo! The name came to her like a flash of lightning. Frank Rizzo, of course. She remembered watching a documentary about him at some point or another, and had been more than a little disgusted at how he had run things back in...was it New Jersey? Or Philadelphia? She couldn't quite recall that particular detail, but she knew sure as hell he wasn't part of the Chicago scene, and besides, the thing that stuck out most to her was all that shit that had gone down with the Black Panthers, and they definitely were not a thing in the 1920s, or whenever it was supposed to be. For a moment, she glanced around Frank's office for some sign of a calendar that might help her anchor herself a little more firmly in time.

No dice though, and Johanna was starting to get the feeling that whatever year it was supposed to be, it was definitely getting late. At least, too late to sit around listening to a proposition that frankly disgusted her, considering it was coming out of Rizzo's mouth. "Well that's a generous offer, Mr. Rizzo," the woman did her best not to spit his name out at him. "But that boyfriend of mine probably wouldn't go for it. He's the real jealous kind, you know? So I should probably be on my way before he shows up here and causes a big fuss about things. Besides, Gertrude's gonna be fine. Just a bad appendix, that's all." Reaching into the pocket of her skirt, which she realized had a hole that would allow her to instantly snatch the gun from her thigh, Johanna began to back slowly towards the door.

"It's been a real pleasure meeting you Mr. Rizzo. I hope you have a good rest of your evening," she inclined her head slightly as her hand tried the handle behind her. To her surprise, she had not been locked in the office with the man, and before he could protest she decided to try her luck and open it. The door gave easily, and while the two guards on either side of it didn't exactly watch her with friendly eyes, they also didn't stop her as she made a beeline for the exit. Nor did any of the other patrons of the club get in her way, in fact they did quite the opposite. A path seemed to clear before her, pointing her way to the stairs of the building, and the only person to interfere with her was a teenage boy in a rather garish valet's costume.

"Whoa, hold on there Miss Belknap! Don't you want us to bring around your car?" he asked, then squinted suspiciously at her. "Or...you want us to call you a cab? I don't feel right about letting you go off if you don't feel good to drive, begging your pardon ma'am."

Johanna froze in her spot, then shook her head slightly. She didn't feel drunk exactly, and out in the fresh air of the night her senses seemed to calm down somewhat. If she were in the real world she still probably would have requested the cab to be safe, but after remembering the look on Frank's face she wasn't quite sure anyone who might give her a ride wouldn't take her straight back to his place. No, she'd better trust herself on this one. Besides, it wasn't like she could actually die. Worst case scenario she'd wake up back in the pod and be ready to write a bad internet review of the whole experience.

"Sorry about that, just needed a breath," she explained to the boy, opening her purse and pulling out a valet ticket she wasn't completely sure had been there before. "I'll take my car, thanks."

"Right away ma'am!" the boy cried, darting off around the corner of the building. A short time later, a cherry-red two-seater in pristine condition pulled around the corner, and...good god, did that say Bugatti on the hood? Man, the Treasury really knew how to pay people. "Here you go, Miss Belknap!" the valet replied, parking in front of her and hopping out of the driver's seat. For a moment Johanna could only stare in awe, but at the sight of the boy's outstretched hand she quickly gave him a tip then climbed into the rumbling vehicle.

In the real world, Johanna's driving skills were mediocre at best. She didn't own a car, and she had only ever learned how to drive an automatic. Yet she had no trouble getting the Bugatti into gear and pulling away from the curb, and in no time at all she was cruising merrily down the well-lit streets of the outer city. She had absolutely no idea where she was going of course, but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. She was safely out of Frank Rizzo's grasp, she really didn't feel tired at all even though it was clearly late at night, and she was finding that old curiosity rising up in her again. Her first idea was to head deeper into the city, maybe to explore another club before seeing if anyone had the remotest idea of where she lived. But after several glances in the rearview mirror, it occurred to the drive she wasn't quite as alone as she thought.

For several miles now, it appeared that a dark-colored truck had been following her. She wasn't totally sure when it had joined her, and it was maintaining a pretty generous distance behind her, but no matter which way she turned the truck stuck right with her. "Okay then, let's try this," Johanna murmured to herself, rounding a corner and pressing one of her high-heeled shoes to the floor. The Bugatti kicked forward with more speed than she had expected, but she had no trouble getting it under control as she began to make her way back towards the outskirts of town. While she was still within the city limits (and therefore feeling obligated to at least pretend to notice the speed signs) the truck still managed to keep up behind her, but once she was in the darkness there was no catching up with the roadster. Within twenty minutes she was utterly alone on the road, and finally dared to let out a sigh of relief.

Then she saw the thing in the road.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she shrieked, slamming on the brakes and turning the wheel sharply to the right. The tires skidded against the dirt, and she shuddered to think what the sounds of kicked-up pebbles were doing to the paint job, but at least she hadn't hit anything. At first she though it was a deer that had skidded across the road, but as she slowly turned the car around and shined her headlights on the figure, she realized it was a man. "Oh my god," Johanna cried, shutting off the car immediately and running to his side. "Are you okay? I didn't even see you. What are you doing walking around out here without a light? You got a death wish or something?"

It was only when she was close enough to his face she recognized the bright blue eyes peering at her in the darkness. "Oh...it's you," she murmured, feeling that same physical resonance as she looked at his gorgeous face. But her own expression quick twisted into a frown. "What the hell, man? Are you following me or something?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

Oh shit he's a cop. Well, didn't that technically mean they were on the same side? All the same, he probably wouldn't appreciate her playing fast and loose with the speed limit, or nearly running him over. At least he couldn't hassle her about wearing a seatbelt; the roadster didn't come equipped with them. Other than that Johanna hadn't really done anything wrong, except for having a teeny little taste of champagne, and he'd been in the same bar anyways, maybe even for the same reason. He had nothing on her.

Still, the guy was eying her with more than a little suspicion as he circled the car, and it was making her nervous. Or was she just excited at being reunited with him so soon? Even without the haze of the nightclub he was gorgeous as ever, and if it weren't for the scowl on his face she might not have minded if he really was following her. She also didn't argue when he invited himself into the passenger's seat of the car. "Call it a birthday present for my sweet sixteen," Johanna explained as she got back in the driver's seat.

"And I'll take you wherever you want to go, but if you're hoping to transport some bodies I've got some bad news for you. You see..." With her right hand she pointed her thumb towards the back of the car. "This here is a two seater, so unless you want to try to cram your friends into the trunk, I think you're going to have some issues. And for the record, I don't know shit about any mob." That was the truth at least. Other than figuring out Frank Rizzo ran the club and he was definitely not an individual she wanted to be involved with, she was just as much in the dark as the car on the road. "I just wanted to scope out the joint and see what it was like. I got a little thirsty, so what? Gonna throw me in the slammer for that?"

Johanna glanced over and risked a smile towards her passenger, but it died on her lips when she saw the stern look on his face. "What's your name anyway?" she asked, turning her gaze back towards the road as they approached the scene of the crime. "Mine's Johanna. But you seem to know a thing or two about me--or at least you think you do--so maybe you knew that already." Truth be told it would have be nice to ask him what exactly he did know about her; he could probably give her some idea about what exactly it was she was supposed to be doing. In the meantime though, she would have to settle for being a makeshift ambulance--or hearse.

"So how do you want to do this?" the woman asked as she pulled up beside the pockmarked wagon. "I can take one at a time, unless you boys want to sit on each others' laps."

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"What? Hey now!" Johanna protested as she was jostled out of the driver's seat. She was about to say something along the lines of That's mine! but was it really? Sure the thing had been fun to drive, but looking over the state of the two injured officers she was hesitant to argue further. At least the Bugatti was fast and would get them to a hospital hopefully in time, though she couldn't recall passing one on their way out to the sticks. It wasn't until the roadster was pulling away that she remembered what it was that had brought her out into the pitch-black countryside in the first place.

"Shit..." she murmured under her breath, then turned to catch up with the cop (who had noticeably still refused to give his name). "Hey, wait a minute. You hustled me out of that jalopy so quick I didn't get a chance to mention: after I left the club, there was this truck following me." Guilt began to clutch at her heart. "I managed to lose it on my way out here, but that car isn't exactly discreet, you know? Are you sure letting those guys drive off in it isn't gonna come back to bite 'em in the ass?" Although even if it did, there wasn't much either she or the cop could do now. The car had long vanished into the night, leaving them to walk down the lonely road by the dim light of a waning moon.

The sight of the star-filled sky overhead did catch Johanna's attention though, and distract her for a moment from the concerns that were beginning to spiral around her like a whirlpool. She'd never seen so many at once; in the real-world city where she lived, there was always too much light pollution to see anything more than the tops of cell phone towers and satellites. The strange black-and-whiteness of the world also seemed to make the stars glow even blighter than usual, even flicker a little. It was enough to bring her to a complete standstill in the middle of the road with her face turned to the sky, hypnotized by the beauty of it all.

Her companion didn't seem quite so distracted by sentimentality however, and seemed more than happy to leave her behind like a deer in the headlights. Scowling in his direction, Johanna quickly darted after him, pausing only to remove her shoes as directed. It still only left some thin stocking between her aching feet and the rough ground, but at least without the heels walking would be easier on her ankles. "Where are we headed anyways?" she asked with a grimace as she caught up to him, but the lights of a small town up ahead quickly gave her an answer. But the lights soon proved to be more of a tantalizing torment than a real source of hope, considering how far off the town still was, and by the time the pair finally reached a small house the woman was limping visibly.

Without waiting for any kind of invitation, she immediately collapsed into a chair once they were inside, letting out a sigh of relief as she was finally able to take the weight off of her blistered and dirty feet. Johanna accepted the water without a word, and after drinking the entire thing she felt revitalized enough to begin peeling off her stockings, revealing the long, toned, perfectly smooth legs (Did women shave their legs in the 1920s? She couldn't remember). With a deep breath she hobbled over to the water bucked and dipped the torn garments in the water, then set about cleaning the dust and dirt from her feet. A shower sounded wonderful to her as well, but the idea of stripping out of the gown that had fared only slightly better than her stockings only to put it back on afterwards sent a shiver of disgust down her back. Nothing to do then but wait for a ride back to her own home, wherever that might be.

In the meantime, she sat down at the kitchen table and let her eyes wander around the house. She noted quite a few medals on the wall, but it made sense. The cop looked old enough to have served in The Great War, though she was curious what he might have done to earn so many accolades. But what interested her even more was the name on one of them: James Rose. Unless the cop had a roommate--and judging from the sparse look of his house, Johanna found that doubtful--that was the name then of her erstwhile companion. "Well he sure didn't get those medals for politeness," she scoffed a little as she shifted in the chair, beginning to feel more uncomfortable in the tight dress. Maybe after old Jimmy was done with his shower (and how the hell did he have a shower, but needed to get his drinking water from the well?) she could talk him into lending her a set of clothes to change into. After all, there was no point in trying to be pretty for him or anyone else anymore; between her smudged makeup, mussed hair, dusty dress and torn stockings she must have looked like shit.

Oh well, she was used to being a tomboy anyways. What would have really made everything feel better would have been if she could have had a drink, but somehow it didn't seem prudent to ask for one from a Prohibition-era cop. So with nothing else to do she simply sat and waited, hoping James would be back soon and could at least give her a hint about what to do next.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

It seemed like James was taking forever in the shower, though in reality it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Sighing and stretching in an attempt to shake the fatigue out of her muscles, Johanna rose to her feet and decided to see if the sofa would be an improvement. It certainly had nothing on the overstuffed modern couches she was used to, but it was still an improvement to the kitchen chairs. There was a newspaper nearby, and just as she was reaching over to take a look at it she heard the shower shut off, and a few minutes later her host returned.

Damn, Stanley Kowalski's got nothing on this guy the woman noted as she looked him over in approval. "So, what now, Mr. Rose? Or is it Officer Rose? Maybe Detective?" Johanna leaned back rather luxuriously in the corner of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. "Or do all the other women you pick up on the side of the road just call you Jimmy?"

She had expected him to snap back at her rather provoking remarks; after all, he hadn't exactly been friendly to her so far. But Johanna was wholly taken aback when he sat down beside her with barely more than a mumble and began to rub her feet. What the fuck? Did the guy have some kind of fetish? Wait though, she needed to remember: gorgeous as he might have been, and nice as those strong hands felt as they massaged her aching legs and ankles, he was still just a part of the simulation. So technically, she supposed, the fetish must have been her own, although she suspected it really didn't matter where he put his hands. No matter where he touched, the pain and ache was beginning to melt away, leaving...

"Mmmm," she sighed gently, letting her eyes drift shut as she felt his hands moving higher, pushing the pencil skirt up to her hips and kneading at her thighs, which were slowly beginning to spread for him. A noticeable damp spot was growing on the crotch of her black silk underwear, and when she could feel James' mouth on hers, Johanna's arms instinctively circled his shoulders, pulling him closer against her chest. For a little while the woman simply reveled in the pleasure of his body crushing against hers, but before long she had to question if it was a good idea to let things go beyond a quick and dirty makeout session.

On the one hand, she had to acknowledge James wasn't real. Didn't that mean fucking him was just a glorified masturbation session? A flash of fear suddenly illuminated her mind as she began to wonder what was happening to her body, her real body back in the pod. Could Dr. Geary see what she saw, and was her body showing as much arousal there as it did here? Well, if it was, she supposed the only thing she could do about it would be to push the simulated man off of her and try to take the virtual equivalent of a cold shower.

But fuck he felt good. And it had been a long time since Johanna had slept with anyone, real or simulated. Plus this was a rare opportunity to get dirty with a stranger; after all it wasn't like she could get pregnant or any kind of disease from sleeping with James. She supposed the only real risk of sleeping with him would be some very awkward eye contact with Dr. Geary, if it turned out he really could see what was happening to her. Even then though, she couldn't have been the first person to use the pods for a sex fantasy, right? The people at the spa must have seen it all the time.

Well, that decided it then. After all, who was she to look a handsome, blue-eyed gift horse with killer biceps in the mouth? Johanna's hands began to wander slowly down James' chest until they reached the bottom of his shirt. Finally breaking the kiss, she began to playfully tug the garment upward.

"You're getting awfully fresh for someone who didn't want to tell me his name," Johanna teased, slowly beginning to peel off his shirt. "Is this how you plan to repay me for giving away my car?"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

All right then, clearly Jimmy was not a fan of pillow talk. Johanna might have teased him further, mostly to cover the awkwardness and slight discomfort on her side as he almost seemed to ignore her, but his mouth was on hers again before she could say anything else. Her eyes closed reflexively, but opened again in surprise as she felt some soft fabric sliding over them and obscuring her vision. Jesus this was getting kinkier by the minute. Once this was over and she was back in the real world, she really needed to lay off the porn.

That's right, the real world. This isn't real she reminded herself as James was holding her arms over her head. The flicker of alarm in her stomach was slowly dying down, completely smothered by a growing lust and need to feel him inside her that was only exacerbated by the feel of a clothed bulge pressing against her hungry sex. Johanna just needed to remember that no matter how weird things got or how real it all felt, she was still safely alone in the pod back in the lab. He couldn't hurt her, not in any real long-term way, and maybe just a little bit of pain, the kind that wouldn't leave any scars or real damage, might be interesting to play with. So she didn't resist when she felt him binding her hands above her head, leaving her completely helpless and at his mercy, although she couldn't still her squirming hips or the soft cry of need when she felt him pulling away from her.

Thankfully the absence wasn't long. There was a brief, violent motion as she felt him tearing the silk panties off, then she felt the delicious sensation of a bare cock brushing against her opening. "Oh fuck," Johanna gasped, raising her hips in an attempt to coax him deeper. "Stop teasing, and just--" Ah, but Jimmy wasn't a fan of talking, after all. A hand closed around her throat and cut off her words while at the same time she could feel him bury himself in her entirely. She wanted to gasp, or groan, or make some kind of noise in response but all all the woman could manage was a stifled whisper as she felt her air slowly tapering off. Beneath the blindfold she could see little stars beginning to creep into the blackness, and a curiously familiar sense of dizziness and delirium began to was through her mind.

Even if she could have breathed freely though, the pleasure James was forcing on her was enough to keep her from thinking of anything other than the feel of his cock deep inside her, hitting all of her most sensitive spots and stretching her beyond any other man she could remember. With her hands bound she seemed more conscious than usual of how her body was jolting in response to his movements, and the sense of powerlessness only pushed her closer to the edge. And when she felt the telltale twitch, followed by the hot seed filling her, Johanna finally let out guttural groan as she came in response, her entire body quivering in release.

She was still coming down from the high when she heard the familiar and most unwelcome voice above her. "Wake up Johanna, by all my metrics you have had a good time for yourself."

It wasn't James. James was gone entirely. So was the cute little house, and the uncomfortable couch. She wasn't wearing the dirty black dress, and her feet no longer hurt. Her arms were limp at her side but free to move, and her vision had returned to her, albeit she had nothing to look at other than the drop-ceiling above her. The only thing that remained from her time in the 20s (or whenever it was supposed to be) was the flushed expression on her face, stiff nipples and a very noticeable wetness on the inside of the latex between her legs, all evidence that her orgasm had been very, very real.

And she had been right; it was definitely awkward to look up into the clinical expression of Dr. Geary and knew he had seen the whole thing, or at the very least her physical response to it. Sitting up in the tank, Johanna crossed her arms quickly over her chest and pressed her legs together, trying to conceal as much of her self as she could in the tight latex catsuit. "That was...interesting..." she said finally, attempting to rise to her feet but still feeling shaky in her leg. "Your timing sucks though," the woman huffed under her breath, sitting back down in the pod to wait until the feeling returned to her limbs.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Ouch...you're taking my blood, what else do you need?" Johanna snapped as Dr. Geary removed the needle from her arm. She could also see his eyes lingering on her latex-covered breasts, and as soon as she had free motion again she quickly did her best to cover them while glaring daggers up at his face. "I woke up in some nightclub and had a drink, then I got called into the owner's back office where there was this big mafia goon-looking guy who ran the club and wanted me to be a hooker for him. I graciously told him no, and drove away," she explained shortly, turning her face away so he wouldn't see the slight color on her cheeks. "The car was fabulous, by the way. If I can get that again in the nextone, that would be wonderful."

Ah, but she was leaving out one crucial detail, and she had a feeling the doctor knew about it. Rather than risk being kicked out for violating the terms and conditions, Johanna figured she might as well come clean. "Oh, also I met this guy, and we kinda hooked up I guess," she mumbled, trying not to remember Jimmy's piercing blue eyes and the feel of that perfect cock buried all the way inside her. Her thighs pressed together impulsively, and she could feel Dr. Geary's gaze on her all the more. "I'll spare you the gory details, but I mean come on. Everyone probably does it, right? If you don't want people to hook up with strangers you should just like, override the programming or whatever." Why in the world was she getting so defensive? It must have been something in the way the doctor was looking at her. At least I got to finish. I bet the fucker would have kicked me out when we were halfway through if Jimmy hadn't been so good.

Well, Jimmy wasn't exactly real, but the point still held. "Anyway, I told you the reason I wanted to go back to that era was to live out the fantasy of taking out some gangsters, and I never even got the chance. So far I have to say I'm not super impressed, Doc. But I'm still game for another round if I'm clear to go back in. Can you at least give me some kind of hint about what I'm supposed to do this time though? Who I'm supposed to kill, where I'm supposed to go, etcetera? Or am I just supposed to fuck a rando in this one too?" Judging by the look on Dr. Geary's face, she was more than a little suspicious that the latter point might not be too far off. Fucking perv Johanna thought, laying back in the tank.

 

[Shiva the Cat]

"Hey, what the fuck? What are you doing?"

No gentle descent into darkness for Johanna this time. Before she knew what was going on restraints were forcing her back down into the pod, and the liquid was beginning to rise around her again. Wasn't she supposed to discuss her next 'fantasy' or whatever the fuck he wanted to call it? Apparently not, judging by the syringe in his hand. That was definitely new, and her eyes widened as he approached. She began to struggle in the bonds, but it was useless. Her body was still a little weak from the last round, and the bonds were hard metal and wouldn't budge (though she could have sworn she felt the ones on her chest squeezing her breasts even tighter between them).

That wasn't even the most disturbing part though. What did Geary mean she would kill or be killed? You couldn't die in these things, right? Wasn't that the entire fucking point?

"Let me out..." she mumbled weakly, but darkness was already descending over her. She could hear the same musical chimes as last time, and felt the same sense of weightlessness and falling.

And more falling.

And even more falling.

Light was beginning to melt in around her, not the black and white of 1920s Chicago, but a grimy sepia tone that made her think of the post-apocalyptic movies she'd seen. A pollution-cloudy sky was spinning overhead as she fell, and she was suddenly aware of the sharp sensation of crashing onto a pile of rocks. Johanna let out a cry of pain, followed by a confused grunt as she tried to sit up. Why did it hurt? These things weren't supposed to hurt either. Alarm began to grow in the pit of her stomach as she looked around, trying to get her bearings.

She was nowhere. Nothing but rocks and dirt as far as the eye could see. The air around her felt swampy despite the lack of any visible plants, and she realized with more than a little discomfort she was dressed head-to-toe in a close-fitting silver bodysuit. Her hair was up in a ponytail at least, which helped with the heat a little, but when she brushed the back of her hand against her face she was sweating heavily. This is the worst goddamn simulation ever Johanna grumbled to herself, and for the first time she noticed she couldn't feel the joystick she had held all through her last trip. There was no way out.

That was enough to push her over the edge. Rolling onto her side, she vomited onto the ground, the stress of the experience and the discomfort of the current simulation proving too much for her overtaxed body. When she was finished, she rose shakily to her feet, and began to look around for any sign of civilization. She had no water on her, and if death was possible she definitely did not want to go out by dehydration.

A moment later though, it didn't seem like that was going to be the case. Johanna heard a piercing shriek overhead and felt a shadow pass over her body, and it was a miracle her reflexes were still sharp enough (or her legs still weak enough) to fall sideways and roll out of the path of the attacking bird. "What the fuck?" she gasped for what seemed like the thousand time. Staring at the monster, she wished she still had the gun from her time in Chicago, or fuck, even a gun from her normal time would be perfectly fine. But the thing was diving towards her again, and she was going to have to settle for rocks if she wanted to defend herself.

Scooping up the nearest projectile, she hurled it t the bird's beak and missed dismally, but the clatter of the rock impacting the ground was echoed by a bizarre mechanical noise, and she saw a flash of light coming from several yards away, followed by a man wielding a strange device she could only hope was a weapon.

"Shoot it!" Johanna shrieked, throwing another rock again. "Fucking shoot it!"

 

[Shiva the Cat]

If she weren't so terrified, Johanna might have laughed out loud when she saw her rescuer wasn't armed with any standard firearm, but a full on phaser like she remembered in the comic books from when she was a kid. Ridiculous as it might have looked though, it got the job done and scared off the enormous avian brute more than her rocks had, and she was just grateful to see it was gone.

"Thanks," she grunted, turning back to face her rescuer. "What in the world was that thing? A seagull on steroids?" The grim smile on her face quickly died off though as she looked more closely at the man, and Johanna couldn't help but gasp as she recognized the familiar blue eyes of Jimmy. "James?" she murmured, tilting her head and trying to ignore the reflexive thrill that ran through her body as she remembered their last encounter. Fuck, even now she could remember the feel of his cock inside her, and despite the dry heat of the desert he was making her wet.

But it was clear from the way Jimmy was speaking to her that he had no idea who she was. Well why would he? Johanna reminded herself. He isn't real. After that last exchange with Dr. Geary, she wasn't totally convinced that the images before her were just figments of her imagination. It was probably more likely that all of these were pre-programmed simulations, and Jimmy was nothing more than a glorified NPC in this and other virtual worlds. The man before her had nothing to do with the cop back in Chicago, no matter how identical they might have looked.

"I honestly have no idea," was all she could manage to say when he asked how she had ended up in her current predicament. Johanna hoped Jimmy could fill her in a bit more on the current state of things, but it seemed like this version was just as tight-lipped as the last, though he led her through the tunnels of the mountain as easily as he had led her over the deserted country roads. This time though he apparently didn't live alone, but in a colony of rough-looking people that probably would have envied the homeless population of her own time. At first she felt pity for them, but when one of the called her "slut," Johanna's posture stiffened.

"Who the fuck are you calling slut, bitch? Fuck off," she snapped, turning back towards Jimmy. "What in the world is this place? And what's this about an emperor...Frank?"

As soon as the name passed her lips, Johanna's eyes widened. No way. No, it had to be a coincidence. It couldn't be that Frank. The Frank that had sent her here in the first place, who probably would have gotten a kick out of seeing her in a latex catsuit, tied down and filled with drugs. "Oh God I am so fucked," she grumbled to herself, finding a rock to sit down on and putting her head in her hands.