Free Plasma Frequency Magazine: Issue 12 by Arley Page A

flat. "C'mon." She pushed out of her chair and walked through a back door, not looking to see whether Brian was following her. Brian had to dive through the door in order to keep it from closing between them.
    She led him down a flight of concrete stairs, pausing in front of a fire door. "Danielle's nice."
    "I—what?"
    Allie shrugged. "We don't talk much. A little. But she's nice." She pushed the door open. Brian expected dim lighting and dancing poles, and was surprised to see a well-lit, carpeted hallway lined with numbered doors. It looked more like a motel or dormitory than anything else.
    " You should wait for her in the office, I guess," Allie said. She started to turn into the first door to their left, but Brian didn't follow. He could hear sounds coming from down the hall. A woman was moaning, another screaming. It did sound like a brothel. Danielle...
    Allie half-opened the door, closed it, and turned back to Brian with a little shrug. "Still working. Wait in—"              
    Brian pushed past her and stalked down the hall, listening for Danielle's voice.
    "Um, mister?"
    He ignored her. He could hear voices behind most of the doors, crying out or talking in husky tones, but none of them sounded like Danielle.
    “ Um...look, if you do any weird shit, I didn't bring you here, OK?" Dimly, he heard the fire door slam. It didn't matter. He kept moving. Behind one door, three people were talking in voices too low for him to make out; he grabbed the knob only to find it locked, and as he jiggled it, the voices rose in surprise.
    "Hey, what —"
    "Dude, we're not done yet!"
    "Wrong door!"             
    They were all men. Brian released the knob and kept moving. A woman laughed, deep and throaty, behind one door. A whip cracked behind another. Brian's ears were burning. Just two doors left; was she in some orgy behind one of them, had he missed her?
    And then he skidded to an abrupt halt as he heard a voice from the last door on the right.
    "—told me last time it'd be double if I did that."
    Danielle. It was Danielle.
    "Did I? Well, I suppose you earned extra —you took it like a pro. Lie back."             
    Brian wrenched the doorknob so hard he thought he would tear it loose. He was expecting it to be locked, and nearly fell over when it opened under his hand. He stumbled, caught himself, and straightened.
    Danielle lay on something that looked like an operating table, wearing a filmy black corset and nothing else. A familiar-looking device, some kind of computer terminal, sat just behind her head. A balding man in slacks and a polo shirt leaned over her, his hands at her temples, and another man in his late twenties sat in a chair in the corner, flipping through a magazine.
    The balding man turned as Brian came in. "Sit down and wait your turn," he said. Danielle's eyes were closed, and a probe was affixed to her left temple. The man held another probe at her right.
    "Dani," Brian said.
    Danielle's eyes flew open, and she sat up. The probe ripped free from her left temple, and she flinched. " Brian? What are you—"
    "What the hell is going on?"
    "I—I'm getting—I mean..." She twisted her hands in her lap. "We needed money."
    "And if you want to get it, you need to sell the goods," the balding man said irritably. "Lie back. Do you want brain damage?"
    "Mr. Harris, can you get Nate first? I need —I need to talk to—" Danielle's knuckles were white.
    "Fine. But if you go out in the hall, don't talk too loudly. No one wants to buy memories with you two shouting in the background."
    Danielle rose from the table, grimacing. The younger man rose and headed for the table, giving her arm a squeeze as she passed.
    A dull red lump of rage tightened Brian's throat. "Don't touch her."
    The young man started, then snorted a laugh. "It's a little late for that, buddy —"
    Brian didn't realize he'd raised his fist until Danielle grabbed it. "Brian, don't." Her voice was dull. She bent