She thought hard, desperately. Where could she go? The BAN didn’t have any offices in Washington, at least none that wouldn’t be watched by the aliens. If they were determined to find her and armed with the most capable data-mining tools, they would have a list of her friends, acquaintances and everyone she had more than a nodding familiarity with, allowing them to watch and wait for Jayne to show herself. It seemed a great deal of effort for them to track down one person, but they’d spent a great deal of effort to wipe out others who’d spoken out against them. She didn’t dare run the risk of leading the aliens to one of her friends. There had to be another option.
One option suggested itself at once. She could pick up someone in a bar, allow him to take her home and then spend the night with him. A moment later, she pushed the thought aside angrily. How could she consider becoming a prostitute? How far could she fall before she went eagerly to bed with a stranger, just for a roof over her head? Sickened at herself, she stumbled to her feet and started walking. There had to be something better than prostitution, or sleeping under a bridge or in an alleyway. Maybe she could find a room for the night, but then what would she do for food?
She froze as a military convoy rumbled past her, heading towards the White House. Grim-faced soldiers occupied half of the vehicles, their guns in their hands as if they expected trouble. The other half of the convoy was occupied by aliens, carrying long silver sticks that had to be weapons. Jayne stared at them in horror, wondering what was going on. The soldiers had to be collaborators, or maybe they were merely pod people… no, they looked too grim for that. A thought slowly surfaced in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to gain a bed for the night and some small measure of revenge against the aliens.
It took her an hour of shuffling before she finally reached the bar. By then, night was falling over Washington, a deeper night than the city had known for a long time. The aliens, for whatever reason of their own, were rationing power. Jayne suspected it was merely a way to remind the citizens that they no longer controlled their own lives. The Talking Shop generally catered for Washington’s upper elite of political aides, bureaucrats and civil servants, men and women who made the country run. Unsurprisingly, many of them had chosen to remain in their jobs, serving the aliens. It was a job, after all, and their families needed to be fed. Jayne hated them even as she understood them — and hated herself for understanding.
She’d had her hair cut just after changing motels and it looked short, almost elfin. Once she’d gone into the toilet and pulled off most of the disguise, she managed to look remarkably attractive — and cheap. She inspected herself in the mirror, pulled down her shirt to show the tops of her breasts, and then practiced smiles until she was confident that she looked seductive. The trick would be picking up the right person… she sauntered out of the toilet, sat down near the bar, and ordered a drink. It wasn’t long until men started to cluster around her, but she did her best to ignore them. She wanted to land a bigger fish, someone actively involved with the aliens…
A hand fell on her shoulder. “Buy you a drink, lady?”
Jayne would have slapped him in her old life. The man thought he had the power to compel her to take his drink, and maybe a mouthful of his cock for good measure. She’d met the type before, men who were so powerful that they thought they could get away with anything. Even if Jayne had been with someone else, he would have tried to make a pass. And if his target had known how important he was, he would have succeeded. Or he would have had his revenge.
“Yes, please,” she said, trying to look flirtatious. It was wasted effort. Her mark had already started to order the drinks, including a surprisingly large amount of cocktails. Jayne hesitated, wondering if he intended to get her drunk, but it rapidly became obvious that he intended to drink most of them himself. He threw back his alcohol and seemed unfazed. A heavy drinker then, Jayne noted. She was careful to only take a few sips of her wine. His hands were already roaming over her back.
“Come on,” he grunted, finally. He’d had enough drinks to put Jayne in a stupor, yet somehow he managed to stay on his feet. “I think we should go something else, don’t you?”
The cold night air seemed to shock her awake as they stepped out into the darkness. What was she doing? She could run; perhaps she should run. This could go very badly wrong. She eyed her companion, saw his beefy hands and roaming eyes, and winced inwardly. It could definitely go badly wrong. The mark hailed a taxi and gave directions to a fashionable building near the Senate. Definitely someone important, then, she concluded. She pushed her doubts aside and waited for her chance. It would come soon enough.
In the taxi, his half-drunken hands were all over here. Jayne cursed herself and her bright ideas as she endured his pawing, even though each touch left a trail of slime over her body. Luckily, he was too drunk to undo her bra, or slip his hand into her panties. His kisses lacked all passion, or anything but lust. If she were really lucky, she told herself, he’d collapse before they could get inside. She cursed herself once again as the taxi pulled up to a stop outside a fancy apartment block. The armed guards outside checked her companion’s face, rolled their eyes and waved him through. Jayne had the distant feeling that his picking up of a random girl and taking her home for sex was a regular event. The guards certainly hadn’t seemed concerned when they’d seen her.
The interior of the apartment was nice, rather like a swanky hotel. Jayne watched in some amusement as her companion managed to stagger towards the elevator, push the button, and then stagger back to her and take her in his arms. She did her best to avoid a kiss as the elevator dinged for attention, her companion pulling her inside and pawing at her as soon as the door closed behind them. It was a relief when the elevator stopped at the fifth floor and they stumbled out. The oaf took nearly four tries to get the key into the lock before he finally managed to open the door. He was tugging Jayne inside before the door was even completely open.
Jayne took a moment to study the apartment as he pushed her towards the sofa, letting go of her as he headed over to the drinks cabinet. Working for the aliens clearly paid well, although the asshole presumably hadn’t been working for them until they’d revealed their true nature. The apartment was decorated with various gaudy knickknacks and lucid paintings, including a version of the Mona Lisa where the woman was showing a naked breast to the artist. Jayne had never been to France and she’d certainly never seen the original, but she was sure it wasn’t meant to be like that. Her date waved goofily at her, poured himself a large glass of wine, and swallowed it as if it were cheap water. And then, without any foreplay at all, he started to pull down his pants. Jayne had to hold herself in place to keep from physically recoiling. She’d seen how much he’d drunk, yet he could still get an erection. Had the aliens given him something to improve his sex life? It might explain why he’d become so willing to serve them.