Striking Distance. Debra Webb
gaze locked onto a dimly lit corridor and set of stairs on the opposite side of the club. She moved in that direction.
“You got an appointment?”
The male voice halted her in her tracks, and she glanced over to the man standing at the end of the battle-scarred bar. The numerous body piercings and tattoos did little to enhance his thin, haggard frame.
She smiled flirtatiously and leaned on the counter to look up at him. “Do I need one?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the corridor marked Employees Only. “You do if you’re going in there.” He looked her up and down when she stood back and adopted a put-upon expression.
She reached into her purse and withdrew the wad of cash Seth had dropped in there earlier. “I only want to watch.”
The bottom feeder behind the counter grinned grotesquely. “Baby, this’ll buy you just about anything we have to offer.” He flexed his bare, tattooed arms as he braced against the counter and leaned forward. “Including me.”
How could she resist? she thought loathingly. “As tempting as that sounds,” she lied, “there’s something else I need to do first. A big guy, blond hair, dark glasses came in here a couple minutes ago with a redhead.”
He nodded to the corridor again. “Last door on the left upstairs.”
She gave him a million-dollar smile that suggested a promise she definitely didn’t intend to keep. “Thanks.”
Tasha pushed through the crowd and made her way up to the second floor. Nine doors lined the dark corridor, most were partially open, offering glimpses of sexual depravity involving whips and chains and parties of three. The music still thumped loudly, adding a sick score to the nefarious acts taking place.
She slowed as she came nearer to the final door. Like the others it stood slightly ajar. A warning blaring in her skull, she eased into the entryway, allowing the door to shield her to an extent. She peeked into the room, telling herself that she just needed to know what he was up to. But that was a lie. This had nothing to do with her mission...this was personal. She knew it, but the realization didn’t stop her. She had to know. Had to see.
Swaying provocatively the woman undressed in front of him. Tasha watched his unchanging profile as the hooker gave it all she had without eliciting the first visible reaction from the man. Completely naked, her body pressing close to his, she reached for him, but he pushed her hands away. Yet something passed between them. He hadn’t spoken, Tasha was sure of that. The hooker must have seen some indication in his eyes of what he wanted.
She knelt in front of him, her red hair swishing around her shoulders as she moved her upper body brazenly, showing off her large breasts. Taking her time, to draw out the tension, she unfastened his jeans. First the single button at his waist, then slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered the zipper of his fly.
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