Lost and Found Ch. 01

I walked over to a tree to pee, then shouldered my gun and started walking to the trail as though I was heading up on my hike. As I assumed, the man got out of the black SUV and came to stand in front of me. He was a short, stocky middle-eastern man in an expensive suit, and looked like he could handle himself in a fair fight.

"Trail's closed." He said.

"This is public land. I'm going hunting." I said, gesturing at my rifle and safety vest.

"Trail's closed." He repeated.

I took a step towards him, and he pulled back his suit jacket, revealing a pistol in a hip holster. The expression on his face said 'don't push me.' I'd never been in a fight before, and I'm not particularly strong or fast, but I knew that this man stood between me and freedom, and I wasn't going to let him win.

I looked past him and said with my best acting voice. "Oh my god, Ma'am are you alright?"

The guard turned to look, and I pulled the rifle off my shoulder and swung it into his head like a club, butt first. The man stumbled back, dazed but conscious, and started to reach for his pistol. I swung again and again, until the man crumpled to the ground. He was breathing, but unconscious.

I immediately relieved him of his gun and searched his pocket for a phone. It was locked, but his thumb print was enough to open the screen. I scrolled through his recent activities. I could understand some of the spoken language of Arabic, but couldn't read his screen. I knew my way around his apple phone well enough to change it to English, and change the lock screen. I found pictures of my car and license plate on his phone.

I walked around the back of my truck and got the jack out, and let Alexandra out of the bed. She recognized the guard, and hobbled over to spit on his unconscious body, a feral snarl on her face.

My plan from here was simple. The tire rims on the Mercedes SUV had the same five-lug-nut configuration on the hub as mine, so I took two tires off of the Mercedes and put them onto my car, keeping the flat tires in the bed of my truck for later. They were smaller than the tires on my car, so I had to move my front passenger tire to the rear, driver's side, and put both of the Mercedes tires on the front of my truck.

When I walked around the Mercedes, I saw something that gave me pause. The car had diplomatic plates. I had never seen diplomatic plates before, but it said 'diplomat' in big white letters across the top on a red and blue background. In the top left corner was the state department seal.

I moved the still-unconscious man in a suit to the driver's seat, took out the key, and threw it into the stream down below the parking lot.

Alexandra was watching all of this with wide eyes, and smiled at me as I climbed into the car and said "Let's go."

"Thank you." Alexandra said in heavily accented English.

"You're welcome." I replied. She reached her hand out across the center console, and took my right hand in hers. "We go to hospital." I said.

Alexandra's hand clenched mine. "No. No hospital, no police." I looked over and her eyes pleaded with mine.

"Who is Ashraf?" I asked.

"Powerful man. Rich man." She answered slowly in English.

"Who are you?" I asked. I looked over and tears formed in her eyes.

"I am nobody. I don't exist."

***

Over the next hour, I got a little more of Alexandra's story out of her, and was shocked at how much English she actually knew. She asked me to call her Alex, which I happily complied with.

Alex's parents were journalists in Moscow. They died when she was 12. The official story was that her father was driving drunk, crashed and killed both of them instantly. Alex knew her parents didn't drink, and she didn't believe that they would have been in the area the crash supposedly occurred when it was supposed to have happened.

She spent the next five years in a boarding school, which sounded a lot like an orphanage for teens. The school charged her parent's estate for her tuition, room and board, and when she ran out of money at age 17, they sent her with a man named Andrei. Alex shivered remembering that, and quickly changed the subject.

She was sent to America in a shipping container along with a dozen other women, all as poor and terrified as she was. Her picture was taken a few times, as she was rushed from one home to another, and finally she wound up in a penthouse apartment in Denver.

Ashraf owned the apartment. He spent a few weeks there every year, and furnished it in beautiful comforts, including a live-in girlfriend/sex slave, bought and paid for. There was a housekeeper, and a security guard who knew she was kept there, and for the last 3 years, they had been her only regular human contact.

Alex was given no clothes, no telephone or computer, and no documentation for the first year and a half. She was told that if she was caught on the street without papers, that she would starve in an American prison, and she believed them.

Around a year ago, Ashraf had begun buying her clothes. Just underwear at first, but then dresses, to take her out in the evenings. He could be a violent man when he didn't get his way, but mostly he was gentle with her when she behaved.

I could tell that there was a fire in her eyes while she told the story. She played along, biding her time, but he had not broken her spirit.

Alex spent most of her time watching television. Ashraf had satellite TV in the apartment, and got stations in Arabic and Russian, but Alex had figured out how to unlock the English language stations and had been trying to learn English.

She surprised him with a little Arabic, which made him happy, but when she demonstrated a working knowledge of English the previous day, Ashraf had repeatedly punched her in the face, and thrown her off a little cliff, leaving her to suffer with a twisted ankle, miles from the trailhead. He told her he would come back for her once she had learned her lesson.

Ashraf had started taking her out in public recently, and showing Alex off at expensive restaurants. Alex guessed that he worried what secrets she might spill if she could communicate with the general public.

***

When I got back down out of the mountains, Alex had finished her story, and had grown quiet.

"Are you sure no hospitals and no police?" I asked her.

"No! Ashraf has diplomatic immunity." She answered. "Police can't tell him what to do. If I go to hospital, they will call police, and Ashraf will take me back."

"Can I call some friends?" I asked. Alex looked at me warily, but finally nodded.

I pressed a button on my steering wheel, and said "Call Liz." The phone call came up on my car's display. It was early morning, and Liz would be just getting into the office around this time.

"Hey babe. Get anything?" Liz answered. We still used our pet names for each other from our marriage.

"Hi Liz. No, but I've got a little situation here I'm hoping that you can help me with." I said. Alex looked intently at the screen, and back at me. "What do you know about diplomatic immunity?"

"That depends, which country?" She asked. I looked at Alex.

"Abu Dhabi." Alex stated flatly. There was a gasp from Liz, and then silence.

"Liz, I'd like for you to meet Alex. She's a friend, and the situation we're in is hers. We also have questions for you about immigration, if you'd be willing to help us." I said.

"Of course, anything for you, Ben. Can you be at my office around noon? We can do lunch." She offered.

"That sounds great, can Brooke join us?" I asked.

"I'll ask her, but I think she's free. We still need to have you over soon. We have something we want to run past you."

"Thanks, hon, and just let me know where and when on the dinner. I'll owe you one, big time." I said.

"Anything for you." She replied. We said our goodbyes, and hung up.

Alex looked at me, and I could tell that she was fighting tears. "Was that your wife? Girlfriend?" She asked in English.

"Ex-wife." I answered. Alex looked slightly less crushed, but still looked at me with worried eyes.

"But she still calls you 'Babe,' and you call her 'hon'." Alex pouted.

"We're good friends, but nothing more." I said, unsure of why I was defending my relationship with my ex-wife to Alex, whom I'd just met last night, and hadn't shared more than a morning dry-hump with.

"Listen, I'm going to take you to my house, where we can both shower, and get cleaned up. I'd like for you to ice your ankle and face, too. Let's see if we can't get the swelling to go down." I said, changing the subject.

Fifteen minutes later we were home. I parked in my garage, and carried Alex up the stairs to my second floor apartment. I showed her where the towels and soaps were, and told her to take a shower. I went back to the car to get a load, and when I got back, she was standing naked in the bathroom door.

"I can't figure out how your shower works." She said, both arms on the door frame, and clearly displaying her naked body to me.

I drank in the beautiful sight. The only women who had been naked in my home before had been Liz when we were married, and the short-term girlfriend, and they had never displayed themselves for me like this. I snapped back to reality. This woman had been human trafficked, and abused. I wasn't going to use her like Ashraf had. I was a better man than him.

Alex saw the conflict on my face and limped out of the bathroom towards me.

"I didn't tell you my story for..." She searched for the right words. "...pity or sympathy. I trust you with secrets because you are good man." Alex said, reaching me, and taking my hands. She spun, still holding my hands, and wrapped them around her naked body. "Now, come into bathroom with me and show me you are man I think you are."

Alex turned her head and looked up at me. There was lust in her eyes, and she raised one hand to the back of my head. She pulled me down into a kiss. There was an electricity in her touch that flowed between us, and started tingling in my lips. Alex parted her lips and her tongue snaked out and touched my own.

"Come." She ordered, breaking the kiss and leading me into the bathroom by my hands pressed to her body. When I walked in the door, Alex turned and started undressing me. I helped her remove first my shirt, then my boots and socks, then my pants, and finally my boxers.

When my cock sprung free, Alex smiled big and wrapped her hand around it. "Beautiful kurats." She said in Russian, and I assumed that Kurats must mean cock. She pulled me into the shower stall by my cock, and asked me to start the water. I did, and let her have the first turn under the jet.

Up close, I could see that Alex's blonde hair was natural, as were her modest breasts. I guessed that they were a large B cup, and sat high and proud on her chest, a gift of youth. She noticed me staring, and hugged me, smashing her breasts against my chest, and wrapping her arms around my neck. She bent me down for a kiss, and I once again felt the electric tingles as she parted her lips and teased my own lips with her tongue.

When my lips parted, Alex's tongue darted into my mouth, and gently explored my tongue and teeth with her own, teasing at first, but then hungrily pushing into my mouth, aggressive and passionate.

I had limited experience with kissing. Liz hated French kissing, or anything lasting longer than 5 seconds. I'd had a little practice on dates since my divorce, but had never experienced anything like Alex's mouth. Alex was warm and wet, she lost herself in the kiss, and took me down the rabbit hole with her.

When we finally broke apart, Alex's eyes were glazed with lust, and she was muttering softly in Russian. "I need you." I finally understood, as she turned away from me and spread her legs.

Half crazed with my own lust, I moved slowly forward, bending my knees to bring my cock down to her pussy. Alex reached around, and guided me in, pushing herself back to impale herself on my hard length.

She looked over her shoulder at me, lost in lust and passion, as she started moving her hips. She reached one hand back to grab my ass, and started controlling me, forcing me to pump into her faster until I took up the rhythm on my own. Alex wailed as her climax hit, arching her back so much that I almost fell out of her.

She grabbed one of my hands, and pulled it around onto her clit, and started rubbing it in circles, until I took over the motions on my own. I felt my own release coming on as Alex started her second orgasm. I warned her, but she simply chanted "DA! DA!" (Yes! yes!).

I started to pull out, as we had no protection, but she grabbed my ass and pulled me even further into her hot core as my climax hit, and I started pumping load after load of cum deep inside her. Alex was moaning and shaking as I spent the last of myself inside her.

We uncoupled as I started to wither, and she turned around and hugged me, resting her face on my chest.

"I knew you were a good man." She said. "And I could tell that you would be amazing lover." She kissed me again, and then stepped back into the water.

We took turns soaping each other's bodies and washing each other's hair. When we were done in the shower, we dried one another off, and walked naked into my bedroom. I was picking out clothes when Alex walked up behind me and wrapped both arms around me. She started playing with my cock, and it responded immediately.

This was turning out to be a day of firsts for me. Liz and I had only showered together a few times, and had never had sex in the shower. After sex, Liz couldn't stand to be touched for days, and sometimes weeks afterwards. I'd never had this much sex in one day, and certainly had never been pursued for sex like this.

Alex felt me reacting to her hands, and spun me around. She kissed me deeply and then pushed me back onto my bed. She straddled my hips, and lowered herself onto my lap, impaling herself as she sunk down to rest on my thighs. We were sitting face to face now, and she kept intense eye contact with me as she started humping forward and back, using my cock and my body for her own pleasure.

She lost eye contact as she reached her first orgasm, arching her back and neck, the veins and tendons standing out through the pink blotches that showed up as she crested, shaking on top of me. I could feel her pussy gently pulsing and squeezing my cock as she rode out the wave of pleasure, then she came down, gasping for breath, and coughing as she came back down to earth.

She started riding me again, slower at first, then faster and faster until she reached an even higher peak, screaming out as she threw her head back and nearly rising off my cock, before slamming back home again. Each time, she returned her eye contact with me, until the orgasm became too intense, and she threw her head back in ecstasy. As she climbed to her fourth peak, she begged me to come with her.

It took barely any effort at all, as I was already holding back, just watching her beautiful body writhing in my grasp. I let go, and we reached our peaks together. I had never come so hard or for so long in my life. I went through little aftershocks as my climax continued well past when it normally died out. We collapsed back onto the bed, and held on to each other, still connected, and just breathing.

I looked at the clock on my nightstand, and saw that we would have to leave in the next five minutes to make lunch with Liz and Brooke, assuming no traffic. Alex and I rushed around. She re-dressed in her dirty clothes from the mountain, as those were the only women's clothing in the whole apartment.

We made it to the restaurant near the law firm only 5 minutes late. Alex took my hand as we walked in, but visibly relaxed when she saw Liz and Brooke. Both women were attractive in their own ways, but they sat next to each other, staring into the other's eyes, deep in their own conversation.

Liz was my age, 28. She was brunette, and held a few more pounds than she wanted. She was a good cook, and in the three years since our divorce, I had lost over 30 pounds from not eating her delicious cooking. Brooke did not seem to have the same problem that I did. She was naturally thin, and completely beautiful, with dirty blonde hair, and deep gray-blue eyes that seemed to hide a sadness behind an ever present smile.

Both women looked up as they saw Alex and I walk into the restaurant, and they stood to greet us.

I introduced everyone, and suddenly realized that I had never told Liz about the language lesson's I had been listening to. I kept thinking about it, but it felt funny, and I didn't want to have to explain it to her.

Alex kept hold of my hand as we sat, and we exchanged a few smiles. A waiter brought us a menu, but Alex couldn't read English well, so she just pointed to a picture of food that she wanted, and I ordered it for her.

Once orders and introductions were out of the way, I began telling the story about how Alex came to be in this country, how she had been beaten and left out in the cold, and how I came to find her and got her back to civilization. We also told them about Ashraf's diplomatic status and about Alex's lack of paperwork.

Liz looked at Brooke when we finished, and Brooke spoke first. "You're actually very lucky that you talked to me as this is a bit of my area of expertise. There is a law in this country that states that illegal immigrant victims of domestic violence are eligible for green cards. We just need to go to the police station, give them a statement, let them take pictures of the physical signs of abuse, and you should be allowed to stay."

Alex smiled, and then broke into a cry. "He has immunity. He will get me back. He has money and power. The police can't control him. If I go back to him, I know he will kill me this time!"

Brooke reached her hand across the table, and took Alex's hand. "Diplomatic immunity means that he probably won't do jail time for his crimes, but he will have to stand trial, and if we can find him guilty of even one felony, his status is revoked, and he has to go back to..."

"Abu Dhabi." Liz filled in.

Alex took a deep breath, and stopped crying. Brooke asked if she wanted to go to the bathroom, and Alex nodded. Brooke put a hand on her waist, and led her across the restaurant to the bathroom. As they left, I heard Brooke ask how her makeup wasn't running, and Alex admitted that Ashraf had her makeup tattooed on, so that she would always look perfect. Brooke looked shocked.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Liz leaned across the table. "Okay, something isn't adding up." She said. One eyebrow was cocked up.

"What?" I asked.

"According to your story, you've known that woman less than 24 hours now?" She asked. I nodded. "So how come you two are acting like a couple?"

"We've been through a lot together, and we've begun a relationship in that time."

"So is she living with you?" Liz asked.

"I think so. I don't think she has anywhere else to go."

"Are you sleeping with her?" Liz asked.

I must have made quite a face, because Liz held up her hands in surrender. "I'm the last one who should be judging who you have sex with. I only asked as your friend... as someone who doesn't want to see you get hurt." Liz said.

"Yes, we have a... physical... relationship." I said.

Liz nodded her head. "I thought so. Look, you're her hero right now. Your whole relationship is based on that. She clearly worships you, and she doesn't exactly sound like she has a stable background of healthy relationships to build on. My advice to you is to take a step back. Be a friend first, and if there is a real relationship there for both of you...well... then I guess I support it."

I looked at my ex-wife as she dispensed relationship advice to me. We were quiet for a moment, then she broke the silence: