Pushing the Envelope: A Prequel from "The Barter System" World (6 page)

July 2012

It turned out that the men Riya had chosen for her dissertation were kind of cool. 

She ran them through every criminal database, hacked their emails, and enabled the handy camera apps on their phones to see what they were up to when they thought no one was looking. 

Wrong – considering the project was actually scientific research and therefore supposed to be completely confidential and anonymous – but necessary in her mind. 

Careful not to share a single piece of information with her best friend, she scoped out the “subjects” over the course of several weeks to decide if her friend would be safe in their care and keeping.

Sean was a cute workaholic that had a great relationship with his mom and little brother.  Sweet car, too.

Victor was waking up when she was going to bed and
was
probably the sweetest guy she’d ever seen.  The similarities between him and Arnie made her smile.

Joshua trained constantly and didn’t seem to fit in with the other guys on his team who were jock stereotypes.  His ability to recover after masturbation was insane.

Lucas either worked or slept.  He seemed almost broken and she dug a little deeper.  What she found made her want Riya to go meet him first.

Ricardo was in the hospital.  She cross-checked his police file with his medical records and was relieved that it wasn’t a sexually transmitted disease.  He’d recover by the time Riya arrived.

Hudson was a straight up freak that she had a soft spot for almost immediately.  The dude was a true asshole but there was something about him that made her chuckle.

Max and Micah were similar to the real estate tycoon in that they worked fucking
constantly
and never seemed to have much fun.  She’d never seen such physically attractive men who weren’t being paid to be so. 

All in all, she felt better once she’d completely invaded every aspect of their privacy and stomped all over their civil rights.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone.  Riya answered on the first ring.  “Alright, bitch…I’m done poking and prodding at these guys.”

There was a long pause.  “You like them, don’t you?”

“I mean…I guess.  They have potential.”

She chuckled.  “Tell me this…would you fuck them?”

“Hell yeah.  Not gonna lie.  I’d fuck them all.”

“That’s better than your background checks, which I want to know nothing about…ever.  I can’t imagine.”

Tawny whistled a tune.  “Yeah, let’s leave it at that.”  She sighed.  “When is this all supposed to go down?”

“I leave the last week of August.  I’ll be gone for eight weeks.  I’m spending between five to seven days with each subject at their home.”

“I’ll make sure I’m in New York when you’re done.  You’re going to need some serious recovery.  If your pussy doesn’t fall out from sudden overuse.”

“Gross.” 

“Just sayin’ that you’ve let the thing grow shut.  At this point, you’re practically revirginized.”

“Weird, Tawny.  You know that’s not scientifically possible and it’s creepy to consider.”

“Use your vag.  It’s great for stress relief and lowers blood pressure.  That’s my PSA for the night.”

“You coming for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Fuck yeah, you like to cook and I’m practically starving to death.  Also, I’d like a play by play on the costumes you’re taking with you to meet these guys.”

“Costumes…?”

“Or you can play it totally straight.  That’s an option, too.  I’d have a different persona for each of them.”

“I’m the
control
, Tawny.”

“Yeah, you keep using that word, Miss Jackson.  At the end of this thing, I hope you’re still in full possession of all that control you think you have.”

Riya was quiet for a long moment.  “Me, too.”



Two months later, Tawny was spinning out from anxiety.

“Hollow, I will go on a killing spree if these fuckers hurt her.  You’ll have to bust me out of prison.”

“I have the unmarked van already sitting in the warehouse and we’ve run likelihoods just in case.”

“Remember to grab me between holding and court.  That’s always best.”

“Not my first rodeo.”  He went quiet.  “She’s going to be okay, Tawny.  She’s taken a huge leap of faith the last few years with you.  You have to do the same.”

“I know.”

“How many times have you told me how smart and grounded she is?  You know she’s got this.  Have her back, I’ll have your back, and let her do the things she has to do to find peace.”

“I’m scared this will fuck her up.”

“Then you’ll pick up the pieces and start over.  Believe in your friend, Red.”  She could hear his smile through the phone.  “You’ve trained her better than you think.”

“I hope to god you’re right.”

“I am.  By the way, what are you wearing?”

“Not a fucking thing, duh.  I love naked time.  My neighbors hate me.  What are
you
wearing?”

“Tactical gear.”

“Shit, that’s
way
hotter.  You guys pulling those kids out tonight?  I thought it was scheduled for next week.”

“Change of plans.  The mom is in the hospital.”

“Fuck.  Should I come up?”

She listened to him give instructions to his team.  “No.  Riya leaves tomorrow.  I might have you handle something in your area.” 

“Be safe.  Send me details.”

“Will do.  Hug her tight and let her go, Tawny.”

They disconnected and she crawled between the cool sheets of her bed.  Staring through the full window wall at the ocean beyond, she wondered how much would change in Riya’s life in the coming months. 

As long as her heart was still intact, she’d recover from everything else.  It was both her best friend’s strongest and weakest feature. 

She wanted her back safe and sound, if a little worse for the wear.  It was the only thing she’d ever beg whatever deity was or was not looking out for humans. 

“Riya is one of the good ones and I’ll lose it without her so…keep your eye on the ball.  Please and thank you.”

August 2012 – Deerfield Beach, Florida

Watching Riya drive away was not easy.  She stood in the driveway of the duplex and watched the rental until it was out of sight, cursing the tears on her face. 

Her phone rang and she answered without looking at the caller ID.  “Tawny, I need you to do a job.”

“Hollow…”

“You need to keep your mind occupied and this is right up your alley.  Do you remember May?”

“Of course.”  Memories flipped rapidly through her mind as she wiped her face.  “Oh my god, of course.  How could I forget?  Tell me what you need.” 

Three years before, a young woman called a women’s shelter from a gas station near Yeehaw Junction in Central Florida.  Certain flags during her conversation with the operator got her routed to Hollow’s people. 

A team was dispatched to pick her up but she was terrified of the men.  Tawny arrived in record law-breaking time and talked the girl out of the bathroom she’d locked herself inside. 

She said they could call her May.

She looked around fourteen or fifteen and she was clearly pregnant.  Driving her to the nearest safe house, Tawny tried to get information but May was exhausted and severely dehydrated. 

Hollow arrived the following morning but the young girl was too afraid to think clearly. 

Crouching in front of the chair where she sat, he gave her a gentle smile.  “My name is Hollow.  I hear your name is May, is that right?”

The girl nodded and her fingers curled around the seat of her chair until the knuckles were white. 

“I know you might not believe me right now but no one here is going to hurt you.  I imagine all of this can seem overwhelming.  I don’t want you to be afraid.”

“It’s big here.  Everything is so open.”

“Were you in a place that was small?”

“And dark.  Small and dark.  The world is much bigger and even brighter than I knew.”

Tawny met Hollow’s eyes and both of them drew the same conclusion.  May had been raised in captivity. 

“How did you get to the gas station, May?  Do you remember where you came from?”

“Somewhere cold.  I rode in a box in someone’s truck.  Water filled the bottom and I drank it.  It was made from wood.”  She held up her dirty hand.  “I have splinters.” 

Hollow glanced down and his eyes went wide.  Softly, he murmured, “Get a medic.”

“I don’t want needles.  I don’t want to be tied up.”  She started to shake and then wet herself.  “Please…please.”

“No one is going to put needles in you or tie you up, May.  You’re safe.  I think I know someone who would put you at ease in a way that is really important right now.  You need to get well and keep your baby safe.  Will you give it a try?”

“It is a lady?”

“Yes.  She’s very gentle and kind.  I think she’s the kind of person you need for a little while.  Once you feel strong and you have your baby, I’ll help you get wherever you need to go.”

“It needs a family.”

“Your baby?”  She nodded.  “You don’t want to keep your baby, May?”

“He’ll kill it.  If he finds out, he’ll kill it.  It needs to be safe.  It will never be safe with me.”

“You’re going to be safe, too.  Let’s take one thing at a time.  Tawny is going to drive you to a shelter and you’re to ask for a woman named Elizabeth.  Will you remember?”  May nodded slowly. 

“I can’t tell them my name.  There can’t be police.” 

“I understand.  No police.  Just a safe place for you and your baby.”

“Until you find it a family.”

“If that’s what you want then we will find a safe home for your baby.  Let’s get you cleaned up.  You need food and water.”



Tawny thought back on the image of Elizabeth Clayton walking away from the shelter beside May hours after her rescue.  Everything about the woman had seemed soothing, even from a distance. 

A few months later, May gave birth to her baby, placed it for adoption, and disappeared off the grid with the money their organization provided.  Hollow had never been able to locate her until now.

“You found her, Hollow?”

“I found her.  Our girl learned a lot since the last time we saw her, Tawny.  Someone gave her training.”  There was a pause.  “She’s been hunting the man I believe was her captor and popped up on my radar three days ago.”

“How?”

“She shot him as he exited the main courthouse in downtown Fort Lauderdale.”

“Holy fuck.  Is he dead?”

“Wounded but it wasn’t a kill shot.  She got away using the sewer system and contacted me yesterday.  Refused to come in at first but the search is heating up and she’s afraid.  She asked for you.”

“Where is she?”

He gave her a series of directions and she jogged to her car.  “She’s safe for now but I’d like you to keep an eye on her until I can get her transported out of state.”

“Consider it done.”

“I appreciate it, Red.”

“Hollow?”  He waited.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Keep moving, pretty girl.  Before you know it, Riya will be back.  In the meantime, you have a young girl to save.”

Disconnecting, she sent some positive energy to her best friend and checked the magazine in her gun. 

Since she was a little girl, Tawny Ratliff had given no fucks.  She didn’t care what people thought about her, there were few things she wouldn’t try at least once, and those traits had led her to the life she was meant to lead.

The end…not really.

Keep reading for a sneak peek of “The Barter System,” the first full novel of the series.

Research may be work…but that doesn’t
mean you can’t enjoy it.

Shayne McClendon

Tiny disclaimer…I limited the sexual content in “Pushing the Envelope” to give more readers a taste of my work.  However!  I cannot stress more strongly that while “
The Barter System
” is packed with incredible characters and an engaging plot…there is a
lot
of sex.

No, seriously.  There’s a
lot
of sex.  Just to let you know.  I tried to substitute sex with cards or watching sitcoms but…it didn’t read the way I wanted it to. 

If that’s not your cup of tea, check out one of my dramatic romances instead (hint, hint: “
Completely Wrecked
”). 

Carry on!

Last week of August 2012

Riya O’Connell perused the profiles of each man she’d chosen to participate in the final stage of her dissertation.  Page by page, she reviewed the data she’d gathered from them as well as her own carefully performed background checks for what must have been the hundredth time. 

The applications submitted to her website
The Barter System
originally numbered more than thirteen thousand before her six-month deadline in May.  Potential subjects filled out a brief application and gave basic information about themselves and their non-sexual lives. 

It had shocked her to see the number of bogus candidates – though she knew it shouldn’t have.  A vast majority of applicants submitted false information about age, relationship status, employment status, and criminal history. 

If someone lied about the little things, they were likely to lie about the big ones.  She needed honesty if her data was going to be accurate.  The rejected applications were numbered and now comprised the first fifty pages of her research.  Not a single word would be wasted. 

In the last three months, she’d trimmed the list to just over five hundred by sending out a questionnaire that had to be completed on a tighter schedule of ten days.  The second survey was much more detailed and specific, asking general questions about sexuality and preferences. 

Many men emailed her website with complaints about all the “work” she was making them do.  Naturally, those potentials were culled immediately from the list of possibilities.

She would need – legitimate information – to submit with her dissertation.  If a simple questionnaire scared them…they weren’t going to be up for the countless questions she planned to ask casually and formally. 

From those several hundred “real” applicants, Riya narrowed the list once again by requesting an essay about why they wished to participate.  More than three hundred men submitted their compositions by her third deadline. 

The majority were filled with sexual fantasy and very little emotion.  Those final-tier applicants had been painstakingly narrowed to less than thirty. 

Of those, less than a dozen men remained in her “first choice” stack of files.

After serious internal struggle and a bit of juggling, her final eight men were chosen at the end of July.  Only one change had to be made within the last few days and she was still unsure how she felt about it.

A snapshot accompanied each of their files and she knew these particular photos well.  They were faded and a little worn from how many times she’d handled them. 

Over the last weeks, she’d exchanged countless emails with them, giving herself a layer of familiarity she knew she needed to go through with her plans. 

It seemed strange that she’d never met them face to face or even spoken to them on the phone.  From such sterile interactions via technology, so much had already happened. 

Riya felt as if she already
knew them
personally, in the real world.  It was ultimately these men’s essays that tipped the scales in their favor.  Already physically attractive to her, what they’d written stood out above and beyond the others. 

To her core, she believed she’d chosen correctly. 

These men represented the overall success or failure of her dissertation – an investment of several years of her life to date.  She’d been compiling her data for the past year of graduate school and anticipated the end of this particular road eagerly. 

At the end of the day, it wasn’t as much about the degree as it was about the actual evidence; her personal validation that the project she had in mind
could
and
would
work – despite being unorthodox in the extreme. 

Not only would her records be the structure for her dissertation, they would also – perhaps even more importantly – be utilized in the acquisition of her secondary degree in creative writing.

Though also curious as a
woman
, that didn’t technically figure into the equation.  Sex, for most women, was intrinsically linked to their emotions. 

If you believed popular media, the clichéd version of men when it came to sex was much less emotional and far more juvenile. 

How men were stereotypically portrayed – combined with her own less-than-wonderful experiences – could not be all there was to the sexual interactions they had with women. 

Ultimately, her research would translate from the virtual world to reality…and provide concrete data on male sexuality in a way never attempted by another PhD candidate. 

Her advisor at the University of Miami was not convinced that her methods were either appropriate or altogether safe but had given her blessing to make the attempt with the caveat that Riya’s degree, as well as her reputation, hinged on tangible results.

She scanned the last documents and backed up her files to the server maintained by her best friend, Tawny Ratliff.  Tawny believed there wasn’t a hacker alive who could infiltrate the complex layers of her network.  Anyone who tried found themselves – and their systems – falling down a rabbit hole of epic proportions. 

When it came to hacking, Tawny had no mercy.  Likely because she was part of a shadowy hacking community who stood by a certain code of ethics.  A loose one…but a code of ethics all the same.

Layering the hard files in a tier, she stared at the tabs for a long time.  They were frayed on the edges with handwritten notes on the outside.  That was nothing compared to her typed and written notes inside. 

Riya had no doubt that she now knew
deeply
personal information about these eight men that
no one else
in their lives knew about them.  She took their trust seriously. 

Sean
37, Internet Entrepreneur, Orlando, FL

Victor
31, Fisherman, Savannah, GA

Joshua
22, College Student, Austin, TX

Lucas
42, Rancher, Billings, MT

Ricardo
32, Police Officer, Los Angeles, CA

Bobby
27, Musician, Boston, MA

Micah & Max
34, Financiers, Manhattan, NY

One by one, she traced their names as she called her friends and family to say goodbye.  They knew she’d be gone for several weeks.  Her conversations were purposely vague so she understood why the people who loved her most were more than a little concerned. 

Only Tawny knew everything about her, her dissertation, her website, and her various other
hobbies
.  Only she knew just how extreme her research was and to what lengths she was willing to go to get it. 

Their friendship spanned their entire lives and the unspoken motto was “no judgment” – not for any reason at any time.  In many ways, they were complete opposites; in others, they were shockingly similar. 

On paper, it was doubtful that anyone would connect them as friends.  Thankfully, their mothers hadn’t worried in the slightest about supposed compatibility.

During her call, she warned her father that she’d essentially be on
radio silence
until further notice.  That fact made Archer O’Connell
intensely
unhappy.  She was the only family he had with exception of Tawny and her mom and he was fiercely protective of all three women. 

That he hadn’t threatened to lock her away until he could
talk some sense into her
was both a surprise and a blessing. 

He and Tawny’s mom Maggie would have a hundred questions and even more concerns for her safety.  They wouldn’t care about her motives for this particular project or what she hoped to gain by completing it. 

Therefore, they knew what she
could
tell them and nothing else.  They believed she planned to visit college campuses across the country to study the sexual habits of young men entering adulthood.  It had been implied – though not exactly
stated
– that she’d be conducting nothing more than verbal interviews with her subjects. 

For the sake of argument, she actually
would
be doing interviews. 

That just wasn’t the whole story.

Less than one dozen candidates knew her true first name.  They’d only been informed after signing an ironclad non-disclosure agreement to protect her privacy and her personal reputation. 

After all, for the majority of the world, there was no such thing as “no judgment.” 

To keep things fair, she completed sections of each survey herself for the men she’d chosen. 

Since her applicants were asked to share so much about themselves, she felt it was appropriate to meet them halfway.  Some details were not shared for fear of skewing their initial impressions and tainting her conclusions but she gave them as much as she felt was possible.

She scanned her most recent handwritten notes into her laptop, making sure she didn’t miss a single piece of information, such as a letter or photos received at her post office box. 

There was no way to carry every file with her for more than two months and this way, everything would be at her fingertips for reference.  Each subject had a folder on her main drive that was remotely backed up every night. 

For almost an hour, Riya stared at the men she would soon be intimately acquainted with on various levels.  They represented a vast array of ages, backgrounds, and socio-economic status.  The racial mix wasn’t as diverse as she’d hoped but the other aspects about the men’s lives were night and day.

She updated her Good Girl blog and answered a few comments while she was online. 

The site wasn’t linked to anything else she did and she was careful to ensure no one knew she was the woman behind the eclectic mix of online diary, erotic short stories, and open forums about everything from adult toy experimentation to porn addiction.

Since her senior year of high school, she’d used the blog as a place to relax and be herself. 

Interactive with her followers, Riya didn’t hesitate to talk about her relationships with men, her sex life (or lack thereof), using celibacy as a test of personal willpower, and what piqued her curiosity as a single woman in the modern world. 

Many people had told her over the years that she had ridiculous expectations when it came to the opposite sex but she disagreed.  She felt “standards” was a better word choice. 

Men offered to be her guinea pigs and she always turned them down gently.  Women wrote in with suggested reading.  Some wrote in with suggested
lovers
.

Occasionally, her posts – and the threads they inspired – would spark her creative flow and she would pen a short story, novella, or full-length novel.  The cornerstone of her writing was that men and women were not so different after all – much like her dissertation. 

It wasn’t long before her
own
books started showing up as suggested reading by her Good Girl subscribers who were unaware that it was she who wrote them. 

Initially begun as an outlet to release her surprising – and often concerning – amounts of pent up sexual energy, Riya’s erotic fiction gradually morphed into a valid way to avoid touching her inheritance from her mother. 

She knew she was a sensual person at the core of her being.  It was also an indisputable fact that the
possibilities
of sex continued to intrigue her despite the fact that she hadn’t experienced much personally.  There wasn’t anything memorable enough in her sexual history to be used as a plot. 

In two months, without a doubt, there
would
be.  The thought filled her with nervous anticipation. 

Tawny was her emergency contact in case of trouble.  Riya doubted she’d
have
trouble, but that’s why they were called
emergencies
.  Her friend was frightened for her but kept it well hidden, knowing doubt only pushed her harder in the direction of her goals – often recklessly. 

They each possessed a prepaid phone that would be their only method of communication if there were to be a problem.  She would upload files directly to the website while in the field but couldn’t allow anything else to influence her research. 

The phone already had all the contact information programmed for local cab companies, hospitals, hotels, and airlines in each location, as well as the essential information for each of her subjects. 

Everything she needed for the next three months fit snugly into a large canvas duffle bag.  A sturdy backpack from the Army surplus store protected her laptop and held the few personal items she’d be taking with her. 

The next morning, she would leave South Florida, traveling a set itinerary around the country until she reached her final destination in New York City. 

It was the end of August.  She estimated she’d arrive at the last location sometime around Halloween.  Her first leg of travel was already arranged and her approximate arrivals and departures had been coordinated with each subject.