In Too Deep, Book 2, Part 4

 [image: VitalikRadko]

Earlier today, I posted an older version of these two chapters. I apologize. They've been updated now, and while there aren't a ton of significant changes, there are a few. So if you read this before 1:00 pm Eastern, then it may be worth checking out again. Or not. No worries either way!

Chapter 15: Surveillance

Everything about this night felt surreal, like the recollection of a dream I was currently experiencing. It was out of control. It was wild. But up to this point it had never been never scary. I was with two Federal agents, after all. That lent a certain amount of legitimacy.

With my vision cut off in a tinted vehicle with virtual strangers—agents or not—I was suddenly scared as fuck.

“Julia’s, what’s going on?” I asked as the panic rose.

“Sorry, David. This is necessary. I know you won’t disclose anything, but we can’t let you know where we’re going.”

My stomach squirmed, just as we accelerated out onto the highway. I tried to keep my voice calm. “And where are we going?”

“First, we’re going to drop Mia off. Then… part two of this exciting night. You get to go on surveillance with me.”

“And why do I need a bag on my head again?”

“Because Julia has a flair for the dramatic,” Agent Mia Moore said.

Julia added, “Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it.”

***

I stayed quiet after that, stewing. We stopped somewhere, Misty said goodbye. Then we drove on in silence. The car wound and turned and climbed through streets that I couldn't see until at last we pulled to a stop and the hood was yanked away.

I had no clue where we were. I didn’t recognize the palm tree lined street or the large houses along it. I was too new to LA to even place what neighborhood that we were in, other than that it was a wealthy one.

Julia climbed into the backseat with me. I recoiled like she was a wild cat, and she laughed. “Chill, man. I just want to hide in the tinted windows back here.”

Headlights threw stripes along her face, and her attention shifted to something behind me. “Looks like they just got home.”

I didn’t want to look, but couldn’t not. Here was the trainwreck, pulling into the driveway. Here was my worst nightmare come to life. Here was the unspoken fantasy made manifest.

The car—a black Mercedes sedan, sleek and polished under the street lamps—screeched as it barreled into the driveway, stopping abruptly. The sound of the car door opening had that rich, well-made quality to it—German engineering at its finest. A woman’s laugh emerged. My wife’s laugh. I could tell, even from across the street and through the tinted windows of our SUV.

“Jesus Christ,” a man with a thick Russian accent said as he stepped from the driver’s side. “Are you trying to make me crash?”

This was the man with the beard and the great hair, standing tall and proud, like a man with money and power. When he reached down and zipped up his fly, I felt instantly sick.

“That’s the boss, right?” I asked.

“Nikolai Kozlov. Yes, he’s that, but also so much more,” Julia said.

The passenger side door opened, and out emerged… Raven. First her legs swung into view, long and bare, wearing black patent pumps with spiked heels and bright, red soles. Her dress was short and black, a strapless number that barely covered her ass.

“What can I say? I go all weak in the knees for big cocks.” She flowed around the car like mercury, and fell into his arms, pulling him in for a deep, soulful kiss. It felt like a punch to the gut, watching that go on and on, their arms entwining, their tongues dancing back and forth. 

Worse than the kiss was what came next—the way they held each other, quietly talking, their heads together, eyes locked. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. They were into each other. This went beyond pure physical attraction. A man didn’t look at a woman like that on pure looks alone, and I couldn’t remember the last time Amanda had looked at me with such intensity.

He leaned down and whispered something to her. She giggled, brushing her hair away and smiling up at him. With that, he led her towards the open door of the California mansion.

“Now we get to find out if she really is back,” Julia said, handing me a pair of headphones. She put a set on herself, before pulling out her phone. I figured she was going to find that video feed from earlier that night, from the backroom. I’d been thinking of that, too, on the ride over. Told myself that I didn’t want to see it, yet was disappointed when that’s not what she loaded.

Instead, she hit a button, and I heard the crunch of a leather sofa and the unmistakable sounds of kissing.

"Mmm, you’re still so hard," Amanda said. With the headphones on, it was almost like she was speaking directly to me. And to my horror, I realized that she was right—I was hard.

Over the headphones, as clear as if it were happening right beside me, I heard the clink of a belt buckle. 

"Her purse is the bug," Julia explained. “Can’t exactly hide a wire under her clothing, can we?”

“Right,” I said shakily. This went beyond a recording, and well beyond any stories or confessions. This was happening just across the street. Every detail felt like a stroke along my balls—the wet slurp as my wife took another man into her mouth, the way he groaned, how she popped off of the tip and whispered, “You know I’m in love with this cock.”

That couldn’t be Amanda. Not being able to see her lent to the denial, yet it was her voice. It was her. I’d watched that video too many times to fully live in denial anymore.

“In backroom, did my guests get the VIP treatment?”

Over the speakers, the sounds of slurping grew louder, mixed with a gag or a choke. Sounds that I’d only ever heard from Amanda on the video I’d watched earlier. Sounds that belonged in the kind of gonzo porn that I don’t watch.

I heard her slurp away, and when she spoke, her voice was husky. “You didn’t watch it?”

“I had to take care of other business. But we will watch it later, together,” he said with that thick Russian accent. “And maybe I just like hearing you talk about it.”

“Okay,” Amanda giggled. “So by VIP treatment, do you mean did he get to watch me fuck his girlfriend with a strapon while Selena rode her face?”

“Not quite.”

“You want to know if I did this to him.” More sounds of a blowjob. More gagging. “Of course I did. There’s almost nothing as exciting as a new cock.”

“She knows we’re listening,” Julia said. “And she’s comfortable with us listening. This is good.”

"You do that so well, solntse."

Amanda responded after a pause. "You like? How about this?"

"Uh!"

"You like it when I suck your balls, don't you?"

"It is...good."

I heard a wet fapping, wondering if Amanda was jerking him off, or had gone back to the blowjob. I wished I could see.

Which was the absolute wrong wish to have. What I should want was for all of this to be a bad dream. To have my wife back. To go back to Miami and be normal again.

“I sucked his balls, too,” Amanda said. “And I licked his asshole. Like this…”

“Ohhh…” Nikolai gasped, grunted, and suddenly I knew he was coming.

“Yes, yes… come all over my face, Nicky. Mr. Clark liked doing that, too. Too bad Selena’s not here to clean it off.” She giggled. Her voice got quieter as she stepped away, her heels clicking on tile.

“Thank you, David,” Julia said. She only sounded partially sarcastic. “You did it.”

“He’s the one you’re going after.” I thought about Julia’s stray comment earlier. “It’s not prostitution, but drugs. And…” And Ty had mentioned something else early on. “Jasmine. Jazz. That’s the case.”

“As we say, I can neither confirm nor deny, but well done, David.” There was definitely sarcasm there. “Kozlov had always been on our radar, but just as a small-time player. Small until about six months ago, when this new designer drug showed up. But this won’t last much longer. We’re close. There’s a source we need to find—the man who runs the lab where all this shit is created. We don’t know who he is. We don’t know where they meet. But soon, with your wife so close, we’ll get our answer.”

There was a tapping, like long fingernails on glass. I thought it was Amanda’s heels as she returned, but it was so much louder than that. When the tapping stopped and I heard a loud, sharp sniff, I got a little bit more clarity.

“It’s interesting,” Julia said, as calmly as a documentarian’s voice over. “Nikolai Kozlov will not touch jasmine—a good idea, as the pusher shouldn’t get addicted to his own wares. But he sure loves cocaine.”

There was another snort, followed by a deep, hearty exhale, like an athlete getting pumped up before the big game.

This time, the clicking was Amanda’s heels as she returned from cleaning up. I held my breath for her, wondering how she’d navigate the scene. She was a former narc. She was inside to stop more of it from spreading. I glanced at Julia, who was studying me in a way that made me very uncomfortable.

“Those lines for me?” Amanda asked.

My jaw fell open.

“I know how much you like to party,” Kozlov chuckled.

Amanda shared his laugh. Her heels struck the floor. Stopped. My gut was a writhing pit of vipers. 

The sharp sniff echoed inside my skull. I shut my eyes as the image of Amanda, the love of my life and someone with one of the strongest moral compasses, snorted a line of cocaine. That model of purity shattered.

Another snort hissed across my eardrums. “Mmm…” Amanda sighed. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Time to fuck.” Nikolai’s command was full of steel. “Take off your clothes.”

She had to do the drugs to maintain her cover, I rationalized. She had no choice. That was Raven in there. Not my wife. Not the woman I’d watched walk down the aisle for me.

Thing was, as I thought of the woman in that room, my blood pumped red and ready. She wasn’t my wife—she was a fantasy. Nikolai’s fantasy, certainly, but was she mine, too?

I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to get a handle on the situation and failing spectacularly. So I went back into my comfort zone—my rational zone. “Isn’t this going to mess up your case in court?”

“What is? Julia’s fixed expression never wavered. “I don’t see anything, and all I’m hearing are two people talking about parties.”

I didn’t know what to say. They were going to look the other way? Just ignore this? Surely the truth would come out and this would damage their case against Kozlov.

Reading my mind, Julia pressed on. “Doesn’t matter though. These recordings will never make it to a courtroom. This isn’t a sting.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We told you there were certain… compromises that needed to be made. She told you. We’re gathering intel, not evidence. Part of that requires a certain… authenticity.”

"Ah!" I turned back towards the house, like I could see through its walls, see the lurid act as it happened. Amanda's cry was unmistakable. I'd heard it hundreds of times when we were together. But had it always been so loud? So passionate.

"Fuck, you're big," she said.

"Just like you like it."

"You know me so well,” Raven cried. “The bigger, the better."

"Such a size queen. Was Mr. Clark big enough for you?"

“Mmm, yes… he had a really… nice… uhh… cock…”

“She needed to become Nikolai Kozlov’s fantasy woman—a hedonist cut from the same cloth as he is.”

"Uh, yes!" Amanda moaned. "Right there. Yes!"

“Like I said before, I never thought Amanda would be able to handle it, but she’s proved to be very… flexible.”

A wet slap registered through the mic. Amanda cried out. That primal instinct to charge into the rescue seized me. I actually reached for the door as a second spank landed. This time, I heard something else in Amanda's reaction. She wasn't crying for help. She was into it.

"Harder," Amanda gasped. "Fuck me harder."

"You hear them? You hear your wife?"

"Oh, yes. Yes!" Amanda's voice cracked. Her scream filled the headphones, cruelly crystal clear. 

"She's not faking. She hasn't faked it once since she's gone under. That girl loves sex, and now that we know you love that she does, too, all is good.”

“Know what I liked most about tonight?” Amanda’s voice was ragged with the sex. “I liked when Selena put on the strapon while I was… fucking… Mr. Clark…”

“I liked this part, too,” Kozlov said. “You liked the anal sex, yes?”

“You know I do—OOOO!”

“So tight.”

“Yes, reclaim my ass… reclaim my pussy… reclaim my body, Nicky!”

“You liked the DP?”

“I’m ready,” she gasped. “I’m ready to try for real.”

“I think that you are.”

Julia clapped her hands. “Now we’re officially back on track.”

“What?”

But she was done feeding me information. She was already climbing up into the front seat, and I felt disappointment take over. I wanted to stay. At least then, I got to be a part of whatever this was with my wife.

“Want to stick around?” Julia asked, looking at me in the rear view mirror. “There are some tissues back there to jerk off into.”

Julia had this way of making a man feel really small.

“I’m close… I’m close… fuck my ass… fuck it… fuck it into my ass!”

Nikolai Kozlov released a roar as he popped. Amanda was right there with him, screaming her head off at her own orgasm. “Oh, yes! Oh, yes, it’s so hot… so hot in my ass! I love it. I love it so fucking much!”

“No, it’s okay. We can go,” I said.

Julia smirked.

Last thing I heard before taking the headphones off was Amanda saying, “Put on the recording. I want to watch it.”

“Of course, my little exhibitionist.”

The tapping was back. “More coke?” she offered.

“You are exquisite, solntse. Simply exquisite. Ladies first…”

“Such a gentleman.” 

The car pulled away as Amanda’s long sniff rang in my ears. I pulled the sack on voluntarily, although I was so shell-shocked that I couldn’t have told you where we were anyway. I wasn’t processing the world around me. I was lost in my imagination. They were fucking, bodies glistening, holding one another, staring at one another, kissing one another. She’d stay with him all night. She’d sleep in his arms. They would have breakfast together after the morning sex.

“... wife’s a professional, and she knows what she’s doing.” I wasn’t sure if Julia was finally having pity on me, or just explaining what came next. I barely heard her, like trying to interpret someone else’s echo. “You did well, David. You did really well tonight.”

“What did we do, anyway?”

“We fully established our cover,” she said, back to treating me like a simpleton.

“For what purpose?”

“Ah, yes. Why, for the grand finale, of course.”

Chapter 16: Malibu

After two of the most intense days of my life, I was expected to just go back to work like my life was totally normal. It was Wednesday. Hump Day. Just an easy coast into the weekend after this one. There were briefs to file. There were clients to meet with. There was the grind.

The link to the BJ video was dead, and the second time I logged in, even the emails had been erased. My memories lived on—stirring up a confusing cloud of anxiety and excitement. Raven was at the other extreme of Amanda, and yet they were one and the same.

So hot in my ass… I love it so fucking much…

You know I’m in love with this cock…

Yes, reclaim my ass… reclaim my pussy… reclaim my body…

It wasn’t me she was asking to reclaim. It wasn’t me that she shared a bed with at the end of the day.

There wasn’t a moment that went by where some new detail didn’t creep into the back of my head. The tango with another woman. Her confession that she’d eaten another man’s ass. The sound of her snorting cocaine, or the realization that she’d done it before. Who was this woman, and had she always been there? She was a total paradox to the Amanda I’d married. But was she?

She snuck into our bedroom early Friday morning, her naked body warm and smelling like fruity shampoo. I thought it was just a very realistic dream at first—the way she kissed me, the way she slowly stripped me, the way she sank beneath the sheets to suck my cock..

“Amanda?” I looked at the clock. It was 6:30 in the morning.

She pulled the sheets back and looked up at me. She was makeup free, her hair back in a loose ponytail, bangs escaping. “I’m here.”

Seeing me start to wake, she crawled up my body and guided my cock into her pussy.

“Is this a dream?”

She shook her head as she sank onto me. “I needed to see you so you could reclaim me.” She sighed as she relaxed, my cock fully buried. “I told you that it would be different than before. I wanted to come sooner, but couldn’t get away.”

“You were with him?” Just asking caused my cock to throb.

She nodded. “Since the night you watched me dance. He asked me to move in with him.”

“And you said yes.” I knew I was being petulant. At the same time, my cock was only hardening.

“It’s not real, David.” She squeezed me. “This is.”

“Right, I know. You’re just… very convincing.”

“I need to be. I’m his fantasy. Nick is someone who… craves adoration.” Nick, she called him. Not Nikolai. Not Kozlov. Not the target. “But he doesn’t just want someone who will lie there for him. He wants someone who enjoys it.”

“And you enjoy it.”

“Some of it, yes.”

“You like the sex,” I said. We’d gone over that. “The drugs? Did you really…?”

“You heard that,” she said, quietly to herself. “Yes, Nick has certain… fetishes. The pursuit of pleasure above all else is his greatest aphrodisiac. I don’t do it often, and only with him. I’m not addicted.”

“And I’m not saying you are.”

“You don’t have to worry,” she said. The defensiveness had drained away, replaced by something more reassuring. “I’ve done it because I have to, not because I want to.”

“But it’s another thing that you two have shared that we haven’t.”

“You want to do some rails with me?” she said with a smile.

“No, of course not,” I said. “That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant. Shared intimacy, shared experiences. I understand.”

I pulled her close. “And I understand you. I’m sorry. You do what you have to do.”

She said, “When this is over—”

“It can be over,” I completed.

“I was actually going to say that when this is over, we find some new, shared and intimate experiences to have together.”

“I like that.”

She snuggled close and said, “Whatever we do when this is over, we get to figure it out. Together.”

*

Her visit helped… for a bit. Got me through Friday, at least, but when the weekend arrived and I was home alone, looking at the plants and telling myself that I needed to feed them, my insecurities were back. I didn’t have a cock like “Nick.” I didn’t have money or power. I didn’t have a dangerous, wild side. Maybe I was good enough for Amanda. Raven? I wasn’t so sure.

I got a text before my worries spun too far out of control—not from Amanda, but from Julia, of course.

Mr. and Mrs. Downing have plans tonight in Malibu. I’ll be by around 8. Make sure to shower.

And that was it. No question, no ask, no, ‘Hey, you doing okay?’ But honestly, I was good with it. Helped give me something to do. Helped focus my mind.

I took a long shower, inevitably thinking about Amanda doing the same in Nikolas Kozlov’s fancy home. Maybe he was there with her. Maybe he forced her to her knees so she could suck the dick that she loved so much.

I wanted to get off, but I didn’t. Instead, I exited the shower, properly edged. Whatever was going to happen tonight, I needed to be at my sharpest.

Julia arrived wearing a leopard-print party dress—back to full on Gillian Downing vamp. She handed me a garment bag. “Get ready, Davey dear. We’re about to go where only the rich and beautiful go.”

*

When I thought of Malibu, I pictured expensive homes that sit between the beach and the hills. I pictured vacations and relaxation, lying out in the sun or surfing or just frolicking in the waves. I didn’t associate it with bars and a nightlife. I guess I didn’t have the best of imaginations.

Malibu’s Living Room wasn’t a typical bar. It was more like one giant, sprawling house built on the edge of the Pacific, unmarked from the outside other than a parking lot filled with fancy cars. 

When we approached the doors to the Living Room, the bouncers recognized her. “Mrs. Downing,” said a mountain of a man in a thick, Russian accent. Looking at me, he simply said, “No guests. You know the rules.”

“This is my husband, Davey,” she said. “Check your list again. He’s always been on it.”

The man gave me a skeptical look, as if he were thinking, ‘No fucking way he’s with her.’ But he did consult his tablet, tapping a few times before frowning. “I didn’t think he was real.”

Julia reached out, brushing her fingers along the bouncer’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Boris. Davey here gets turned on when other men play with his wife. Don’t you, dear.”

She was really enjoying this more than she should. I nodded, putting on as confident a smile as I could as I looked at the bouncer. “Maybe if you get a break, Gilly here will suck your dick while I watch.”

“Come on, Davey,” Julia said, whisking me away before I could cause more trouble. “Bye, Boris.”

The scene inside of the Living Room was more like that of a house party than a club. Room after room was filled with sofas and loungers, conversation areas and seemingly makeshift dance floors. DJs spun electronica. The lighting was low, with a black light here and a strobe there.

Beyond, the sun made its final descent on the far horizon. Some gathered outside, along the balcony, drinking and flirting. Some were nestled into alcoves, masked in velvety drapes, getting close and talking quietly.

‘You’ll need to be discreet,’ Julia had said on our way over here. ‘This isn’t the Gold Club. It’s not associated with our targets and we don’t have the proper warrants.’

‘So what is it?’

‘It’s a playground for rich people to have fun, and your wife’s friend, Nikolai, is a frequent patron.’

I searched for them as we walked in, remembering my instructions to be discreet yet unable to carry through. “You’re looking like a fucking tourist,” Julia muttered.

We were walking by a short stretch of bar where a woman was laid out, her shirt lifted to just under her breasts, as another woman drank tequila out of her pierced navel. I tore my eyes away and looked at Julia. “I mean…”

Julia glanced towards the dance floor in the next room. The last rays of the sun turned the dancers into silhouettes, bouncing and rocking to the music, arms and legs swaying like reeds in the wind. I knew Amanda well enough to pick her out, even just as a shadow. I knew how she danced, cocking her head and tossing her long, loose hair as she felt the music. Her movements were different here than in the strip club. Here, she was more carefree.

I forgot all about the girls doing body shots behind me, and my heart, already beating fast, took off. 

Julia got very close, blocking my view—close enough that I could smell her unfamiliar perfume and see the specks of makeup. Her breasts pressed against my chest as she leaned in and whispered, “There aren’t many watching here, but you can’t do this. Remember, don’t fucking stare—and definitely don’t stare at her.”

“Why did we even come then?”

“‘Cuz you want to see her work, and we need to make sure that she wants it, too.” She guided me to the bar, where the woman was just sitting up. “Aw, I was hoping you came with the drinks,” Julia said to her.

The woman was hot, her hair fading from dark gold to bubble gum pink in a trendy ombré. She glanced at Julia, taking in my fake wife’s leopard print dress and hot body, then over to me. “You want a drink, too?”

Julia answered for me. “No, my husband likes to watch.”

The answer seemed to please the girl. She smiled and turned to the bartender, opposite us. “One more for the blonde.”

The girl pulled her legs back up onto the bartop, leaned back, and lifted her shirt. Her skirt was short and pleated, like the fantasy version of a Catholic school uniform, and she had a very flat stomach. Sprinkling salt just below her navel, the bartender handed her a lime, which she set into her cleavage and looked excitedly at us.

“Hold my purse, dear,” Julia said. She climbed up onto the bar herself, almost like she was going to go down on the pink-haired girl. Instead, she lapped slowly at the salt on her lower belly, making sure to meet the girl’s eyes. The bartender poured a healthy amount of tequila into her navel, which Julia slurped up.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” someone said behind me.

Julia moved up the girl’s body, kissing along her stomach and snapping the lime out of her cleavage. Biting into it, juice dribbled down her chin. She plucked it out, tossed it to the bar, and leaned in. Before I could get a handle on how turned on I was, Julia was kissing the other girl, their tongues twisting and playing.

“Thank you for the drink,” Julia said huskily, hopping off the bar. To the bartender, who stood there with his mouth as gaping as mine, she said, “Can I get a couple more for my husband? Glasses are fine.”

“Uh… yes.”

“I thought we were supposed to be discreet?” I said after the tequila shots. We migrated outside, drinking more reasonable—yet still very strong—cocktails.

“Discreet means not sticking out. That’s called fitting in.” She turned, elbows on the railing, her back to the ocean. Her eyes were on something inside as she sipped her drink. “Our girl in there gets it.”

I was proud that I didn’t immediately look. That earned an approving nod from Julia. Instead, I leaned on the railing, facing out. The sun had set. Night was here to announce the start of the party. I could feel it waking up behind me, but out there, on the dark ocean, all was calm. “This place is really something.”

“They screen everyone who comes in. Background checks, NDAs—don’t worry, ‘Davey’ got those, too—a hefty membership fee. Puts the clientele at ease.” She continued to focus on whatever was going on inside. “You can look now. In fact, you really should.’

I turned around as casually as I could. Like most bars and clubs in southern California, the Living Room was built with indoor and outdoor spaces in mind. A series of French doors were propped open, affording us a good view onto the dance floor.

I found Amanda in the midst of it all, arms up, grinding between two muscular black men. The vision struck me like something physical, and I was glad that I was leaning. She’d transformed herself yet again. Her dark hair was now formed into cornrows that met in four braids down her back. Paired with a strapless, short, maroon bodycon dress and tall heels, I barely recognized her. Only it was definitely her. I knew the way she moved. I knew her mannerisms.

Like she sensed me, Amanda looked out from between the two guys. Our eyes met for only a second, but the connection was just as real as a caress on the cheek.

Her focus, however, wasn’t on me. She didn’t linger, even for a moment. Anyone looking would just see her scanning the small gathering outside before fixing on something off to our right. 

“You know them?” I asked Julia. Really, though, I was looking beyond her, to whatever Amanda was looking at. I saw Nikolai Kozlov, of course, standing there, vape pen in hand, shamelessly staring back at her.

“We don’t know them,” Julia said, “but you also need to stop staring.”

“Right.” I looked at Julia. “Got it. So why isn’t he in there, dancing with her?”

Julia had this way of smiling at me that made me feel small and naive. She did it all the time. She did it now. “Told you he’s like you. He likes to watch.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod. Glancing back into the club, I was just in time to see Amanda reach out to the black guy in front of her and pull him down for a deep, searing kiss. Behind her, the other guy palmed her tits.

Other than me and Nikolai, no one else seemed to notice. They weren’t the only ones making out on the dance floor, and just beyond, on the couches and in the alcoves, things had really started to feel like a house party.

“They come here to meet other men.” Julia caressed me, keeping her voice low as we people watched. “He likes to watch her dance.” Her hand dropped lower, brushing over my crotch. “Just like you.”

She squeezed my erection. I gasped. “Makes sense, considering where he works.”

Inside, Amanda broke the kiss with the one man only to turn her head and start making out with the guy behind her.

Julia said, “It’s definitely nice when we love our jobs, don’t you think?”

The DJ’s set ended, and Amanda left the two guys with some kind of whispered promise before prancing outside. She ignored me completely, her playful smile reserved for another man. It cut deep. I was part of the furniture. 

“Having fun?” I could just hear Nikolai ask, his Russian accent thick.

“You know it.” It hurt even more when she kissed him. This kiss was somehow different than with the black guys. She had a familiarity with this man that felt like a betrayal. “I love it when you watch me.”

She didn’t look at me, and I felt excluded. It wasn’t some double entendre, meant for the both of us. There was an intimacy between her and this other man, wholly apart from what we shared. 

I couldn’t hear the rest of their exchange, although I could feel their intimacy, hearing it in Amanda’s laughs, seeing it in the way she clung to him when they entered the interior once again. Her braids bobbed and bounced in the small of her back, like dark asps nipping and fighting.

“Well, she definitely doesn’t have a problem being Raven in front of you anymore,” Julia said. “I’ll be honest, I definitely thought this case was fucked. She was on a guilt-ridden downward spiral.”

The two black guys had moved over to the bar—now free of anyone taking body shots—and were drinking and chatting with one another when Amanda and Nikolai approached them.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Really?” Julia said, looking at me incredulously.

“I mean with me. I guess we leave?”

“We could.” Julia toyed with the buttons on my shirt. She studied my chest before swinging her eyes hungrily up to mine. “Or we could watch…”

I had no idea how to respond. “What?”

“You didn’t really think all the security and discretion going on here was just so that some rich fucks could dance, did you?”

“Still not following.”

“This is the living room.” She caressed my chest, looking around. “And while fun things can certainly happen on the couches…” She seemed to focus on one of those fun things happening behind me, “...the real action is in the bedroom, right?”

“Sure.” And then, because I still wasn’t following, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“This is a swinger’s club for the most elite. In the back rooms are bedrooms. Some are for private get-togethers. Others are more public. Can you guess which one Nikolai, owner of a strip club, prefers to take his girls to?”

“You serious?”

Julia bit her tongue playfully. “Want to watch?”

“Lead the way.”

See you next Tuesday!