Nobody who was anybody had ever heard of Felicity Yates. She seemed to have appeared almost overnight: a giant rising from the depths of vineyard hell, cresting the surface in glorious debut, then continuing onward and upward. By the time people began to take notice, she had rocketed into the upper atmosphere, and beyond. Her vineyard, Elixir of Agditis, appeared, then took the wine world by storm in a matter of weeks. The label topped list after list as tourists flocked to her vineyard for tastings at an unprecedented rate; the restaurant she had opened now booked out its reservations months in advance. Despite this, Felicity herself remained a mystery. Public records from before her rise to prominence painted the picture of a reclusive daughter to wealthy, dead parents who’d converted her parents' old estate into a vineyard. She was hardly a socialite, did not rub elbows with celebrities or wine maestros. Instead, Felicity Yates secluded herself within an equally mysterious inner circle. Following her success, her public appearances were as selective as her choices in company. 

It didn’t add up. At least, that’s what Emery had said. She’d launched into some rant about government bribes and ties to big pharma, secret societies and “dark wine,” whatever that was. And yes, the sheer speed and intensity at which Felicity Yates’ wine had risen to stardom was rather odd, but conspiracies? The whole thing sounded unhinged. According to Emery, however, it was a bombshell just waiting to drop: a Pulitzer in the making. Emery, of course, would never accept such an award, or so much as credit herself. Fame made undercover investigative journalism rather difficult. Either way, despite Leanor’s skepticism, Emery had once again run off to chase her latest wild hunch. 

Six months later, she hadn’t returned. Nobody had heard from her; nobody knew where she was, Leanor had checked. The authorities were no help, as always. And so, Leanor took matters into her own hands. Admittedly, Leanor wasn’t half the journalist as Emery. While Leanor chased down restaurant healthcode violations or gas stations that sold cigarettes to teens, Emery exposed police corruption and busted open prostitution rings. Somehow, though, Leanor had found an in. It had taken a fair bit of persuasion, but she’d convinced her boss this was worth booking a trip out to Ms. Yates’ vineyard over. Officially, she was there on behalf of her paper to review Ms. Yates’ restaurant, and wine tour. Unofficially, she was there to pick up where Emery had left off, and hopefully find out what had happened to her. Imagine Leanor’s surprise then, when, after being seated in Felicity Yates’ restaurant, she had scanned the room, only to spot a familiar face among the staff. 

With a few slow breaths, Leanor forced herself to calm. Of all the things Leanor had expected to see, this was… well, it wasn’t even on the list. Granted, this was not the first time Emery had taken a job while undercover, but six months? And no contact whatsoever with anyone in her life? Was she in over her head? Or just so caught up in the delusion of a non-existent story, that she’d thrown her life away and become a waitress? Leanor sighed, drumming her fingers against the table; she needed to stay cool. She’d grab Emery’s attention, find out what was going on, and go from there. In the meantime, Leanor kept her eyes down, and stole the occasional glance upward, hoping to catch Emery’s attention. This was, as it would turn out, unnecessary. Next thing Leanor knew, Emery was standing beside her table, a polite, professional smile on her face. “Good evening, Ma’am, and welcome,” she greeted. “My name is Kara, and I’ll be taking care of your wine needs for the night. Is there anything I can get you started with?” Her tone betrayed not even the barest hint of recognition or familiarity. She was good; Leanor already knew that.

Relaxing back into her seat, Leanor gave Emery a courteous smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Kara. You know, this may sound strange to you, but I have this odd quirk about my wine. I find it’s easier to make my order if I know a thing or two about the person serving me. Can you tell me a bit about yourself? How did you get into this line of work?” She cast Emery a pointed look.

For her part, Emery opened her mouth to answer, only to suddenly catch herself, and hold up a finger. She withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket, then turned away and faked a sneeze. “Nobody is watching us, Em.”

Emery turned to face Leanor. “You shouldn’t have come here,” she replied, hushed. 

Leanor raised her eyebrows, then lowered her voice. “What’s going on, Em?” 

“It doesn’t concern you,” she said. 

The absolute gall of this woman, Leanor couldn’t believe her, sometimes. “People are worried.” 

“You should be.” Emery took a half step closer, and leaned over, as though gesturing to the menu. When she continued, her voice shook with fright. “You don’t know what this woman is capable of. I still don’t. There are parts of this restaurant—private rooms—which I’m not even allowed to enter. Mistre—Miss Yates watches everything, everyone. People have gone missing, Leanor. People like us. There’s something going on in this place, the less you know, the better.”

Perhaps she was exaggerating, perhaps she was simply too caught up in the story. Leanor didn’t know for sure. If Emery really were correct, though… “I’m not leaving if you’re in danger. You need to come with me. This isn’t worth risking your life over.”

“That’s the difference between you and me, L—”

“That you’ll put your job over your life?” Leanor hissed. Then, she twisted the knife. “Over your relationships?”

“We’re not doing this again, L.” She sounded sad. Sighing, Emery shook her head. “I don't know what kind of stunt you’re pulling right now, but this conversation is over. I’ll be back with a wine order for you. You’re going to drink it, order your food, tip well, then go home tonight and never come back.” 

Leanor, in fact, did not follow Emery’s advice. She had to admit, though, the wine was pretty good. Bright, sweet, a bit tannic, but not to an overpowering degree, and it had a lovely, nutty finish. Leanor was no expert, but her tastebuds certainly didn’t object. 

The tasting tour of Elixir of Agditis Vineyards began at 2:00pm sharp. It was lead by a well dressed, attractive woman named Priscilla, and promised to give its participants a comprehensive experience of all the winery had to offer. Only, that was a lie. Leanor knew that was a lie. She’d barely slept the night before, it showed on her face. Instead, Leanor had finished dinner, retired to her hotel room, and scoured the net for information on the Vineyard. Perhaps this was something she have done a long time ago. In all honesty, Leanor hadn’t expected anything of value readily available. She was correct, mostly anyway. When she knew what to look for, Leanor was at the very least able to confirm rumors about secret private tours and events held in and around the vineyard, restaurant, and Felicity Yates’ personal estate. It was enough to go on, something to keep her eyes out for during her tour. Conveniently, the tour just so happened to take place in a special section of Miss Yates’ estate cordoned off and made available for the paying public. 

About fifteen minutes, and two samples of wine into the whole thing, Leanor became profoundly impatient. She wasn’t interested in spending the afternoon looking for shreds of leads while she swished wine about inside her mouth then spat it out over cheese and smalltalk with upper middle class tourists who would probably tell her she was brave through clenched teeth if they knew what was between her legs. So, first chance she got, Leanor slipped out a side door, and into the wider estate. 

Creeping through the well lit, opulent hallways of Miss Yates’ estate: Leanor was forced to admit one thing: she didn’t have a clue what she was doing. Maybe Emery was good at sneaking around where she didn’t belong and sniffing out groundbreaking discoveries, Leanor just felt lost. Not five minutes later, Leanor stood stock still, holding her breath as she pressed her ear against a door; she’d heard a sound coming whatever room lay beyond: a voice, she thought. So far, Leanor hadn’t gotten a single indication that she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. Then, behind her, she heard the floor creak; Leanor stood with a start, straightening herself out. 

Panicked, she glanced for some way out, but there was nowhere to hide, it was either the door behind her, or pray that whoever had made that sound wasn’t headed her way. A moment later, the choice was made for her. 

“Are you lost?” A woman called. Leanor followed the noise. She recognized the woman staring at her from down the hall. Tall, elegant, one might even say regal. Dark hair framed her face, and stopped just abover her shoulder. Her bright eyes shone with amusement, but there was something else there, too. She looked eager, hungry. Standing in her gaze, Leanor imagined this must be how a mouse would feel whilst being toyed with by a bored housecat. 

“I—uh.” Not the most convincing of excuses. 

Her tight-lipped smile twitched, widening by a hair. Felicity Yates crossed the room, head held high, eyes fixed on her intruder. “What brings you to my home?” She asked, stopping an arms length before Leanor. 

“I was um—I was on the wine tour, and I wanted to use the bathroom. I took a wrong turn and—”

Felicity broke into a grin. The light caught pointed teeth as she lurched forward, seizing Leanor by the arm and pulling her in close. Her spare hand flew to Leanor’s mouth, muffling her cry of surprise as Felicity pressed her nose into Leanor’s neck and inhaled slow and deep. When she pulled away, she stared at Leanor in wide-eyed wonder. “Equisiste,” she breathed. “Let me ask you something, my dear. How would you like a private tour?” She paused, expectant eyes fixed on Leanor. When she received no answer, she sighed, and removed her hand from Leanor’s mouth. “Speak.” Leanor hadn’t the slightest idea how so much impatience could be packed into just one cutting syllable. She stared at Leanor, regarding her with such a strange mix of interest, and cold dispassion. Like she was thing, and her protests were but a routine obstacle,

“I—I just want to get back the tour I paid for thanks,” Leanor stammered.

“Oh is that so?” She droned. “No interest in a private tour by the mind at the head of this entire operation?” Scoffing, Felicity rolled her eyes. “Please, cut the shit. I know you were poking around when you weren’t meant to. And now, you the fly find yourself caught in the spider’s web.” Felicity stepped closer, leaning in until her lips were just barely ticking Leanor’s earlobe. She continued, speaking in a low, husky purr. “But see, I’m generous. I’m offering you an opportunity to see what’s really going on here.”

Frozen in place, Leanor stumbled over her words. Her lips and tongue felt heavy and loose. Her knees weak, she struggled to conceal the strain in her pants. Why the fuck did this lady have to be her type? her type, and apparently into her. And sure, Felicity was being a real fucking weirdo creep about it. But she was standing so close, and her voice had such an aggressive, possessive rumble to it. 

Felicity tightened her grip around Leanor’s arm, shoving Leanor against the wall and taking another long inhale. She shivered, and exhaled a shuddering half-moan, half self-satisfied giggle. “That aroma,” she groaned, pressing herself into Leanor’s leg, then grinding her hips. “Such a fine bouquet.” Her teeth grazed Leanor’s neck, and Leanor’s legs gave out. She stumbled backward, somehow slipping out of Felicity’s grip, and crashing into the door behind her. Leanor didn’t know what the fuck was going on; at this point, she didn’t want to find out. Emery, she should have listened to Emery. It was too late now, though. With nowhere else to go, Leanor gripped the doorknob, and darted into the room beyond. 

She stumbled inside, and found a dead end. It wasn't just a dead end, though; Leanor and Felicity weren’t alone here. At the center of the room, a young woman sat in what looked like a repurposed dentist chair. She was naked, and tied to the chair, though she made no attempt to struggle in her bonds. Her eyes were fixed, staring ahead with a blank, dull expression into a screen just above her. Her jaw was slack, mindless, throaty moans erupted from her throat on occasion, as drool trickled down her chin. At the base of her chair, a dildo had been hooked up to automatically pump in and out of her ass. A constant stream of translucent, sticky cum dribbled from her limp dick, and into a tube. 

Nothing could have prepared Leanor for the sight before her. Baffled, she stared in silence, struggling not to fixate on the distant pleasure written across the woman’s face, the ways her entire body shuddered as her cocklet twitched at each thrust of the dildo. Leanor tried to ignore the way she, too, stirred at the sight. Her breath hitched in her throat, she tensed, trying not to stare at the terrifying, tantalizing display before her. She wasn't doing a great job. 

The door closed behind Leanor, Felicity stepped in closer. “Dear oh dear,” she purred. "I was going to save the best for last, you know. But now look at us,” her arms snaked around Leanor’s waist, drawing her into a crushing grasp; Leanor bit her lip. “The tour has barely begun and you’ve already seen too much.”