by Taylor Lee
Pushing by the doorman who had rushed to open the heavy glass doors to the impressive entrance, Jase led her into the lobby, his hand securely on her upper arm. Strains of classical music filled the air, lending a sophisticated air to the opulent lobby. The inconsistency between the refined music and the tall, steely-eyed men flanking the entrance was just one of the unexpected attributes of this unusual club. Sapphire saw Noah and another man she’d seen with Ian Ross among the formidable men guarding the entrance. Walking past the guards, Sapphire was struck by the sheer ostentatiousness of the Club. Apparently Ventrilo wasn’t above flaunting his wealth. Catering to wealthy men with refined, if unusual, tastes, Ventrilo added unexpected lascivious touches that confirmed the kinkiness as well as the lavishness of the setting.
After a second glance Sapphire realized that all of the artwork, from the paintings on the walls to the sculptures and objets d’art scattered around the room, in some way celebrated the human body. While women’s bodies were the primary subject matter of the artwork, apparently men’s bodies were just as revered. What appeared to simply be a row of curved vases holding fragrant flowers, on closer study were revealed to be replicas of impressive penises and other genitalia. Sapphire realized she was staring when Jase tugged on her arm. She felt her cheeks heat when she looked up and caught the amused twinkle in his eyes.
Passing through the lavishly appointed lobby, Jase led her into what appeared to be a central gathering place. Many of the portly men seated in posh leather chairs sipping drinks and chatting casually among themselves were accompanied by exquisite women. Interestingly, the women sitting quietly to the side of their companions weren’t participating in the lively conversations among the men. It was as if they were part of the scenery, decorative elements intended to add to the panache of the men they accompanied. Their beautiful clothes and lavish jewelry underscored the wealth and influence of their partners. Sapphire noted that while the men were all wearing wedding rings, the women were not. It was a given, an unspoken rule, that none of the lovelies accompanying these particular men were married to them. But, then, this was decidedly not a venue that one came to with his spouse.
It could have been any high-end Gentleman’s Club if not for the fact that the extraordinary women serving the cultured men were essentially naked. It would be a stretch to call the satin strips baring their curvy asses rather than concealing them, or the flimsy scraps of lace encompassing their impressive bosoms, uniforms. Amazingly the scantily dressed women teetering on their five inch heeled hooker shoes circulated among the men and their companions replenishing drinks and smiling at the patrons as though they were wearing a uniform. Which in essence they were.
Sapphire was slightly startled to see Ruby bending over and baring her curvaceous wares as she whispered in the ear of a large man who hadn’t bothered to wipe off the perspiration beading on his forehead and upper lip as he stared at the luscious breasts prodding his shoulder. Sapphire knew that her colleague was beautiful, but Ruby’s “bare to the world” costume confirmed that her petite body was as lusciously curved as Sapphire’s, if only on a smaller scale.
Keeping a firm hand around on Sapphire’s upper arm, Jase guided her through the crowded room. Sapphire didn’t miss the surreptitious glances that came their way from the groups of seemingly disinterested men. While she was certain that many of them were appraising her, she was confident that Jase was more interesting to the assembled patrons than she was. Sapphire knew enough about wealthy men to know that while they loved beautiful women and considered them the surest way to proclaim their wealth, it was their male rivals that interested them the most. After all, beautiful women were plentiful, particularly if you had the money to buy them. But it was their fellow elite, their competitors, who were more compelling.
As they walked through the room Jase’s easy confidence and upscale wardrobe confirmed that he had enough money to run with this herd. Sapphire didn’t need to see the frowns or pretended indifference on his peers’ faces as they passed to know that Jase’s sensational looks were an affront to these men. Luckily for them, in this club, the men didn’t have to be handsome, tall, and commanding with the physique of a professional athlete to gain entry. The essential criteria for membership were the size of their bankroll and their sphere of influence rather than their looks. But it was a given that the women these privileged men collected did need to be beautiful, either naturally, or at the hands of an accomplished plastic surgeon. One who would ensure that there were no imperfections, however minor, to spoil the Stepford prize. After all, these men had paid good money for their paramours; they had a right to expect perfection.
If the men pretended boredom as Jase and Sapphire passed through the room, their paramours were decidedly less oblivious. Many of the gorgeous women showered openly approving glances on the tall man striding powerfully across the room. Seeing the way the men and the women in the room responded to Jase, Sapphire couldn’t help but feel proud to be with him Even the serving men and women, looked up as he passed. Sapphire didn’t blame them for their interest. Rather than being off-putting, Jase’s cool arrogance was compelling .And the occasional smile that lit his emerald green eyes captured even the most outwardly jaded patron.
The sensation he caused reminded Sapphire of their shopping experience. Still appalled that Jase thought she needed him to ensure that she was dressed appropriately for the role, Sapphire admitted that even she wouldn’t have had the audacity to march into the Finery as if she belonged there. Sapphire knew of the Finery but had never shopped in the outrageously expensive boutique. The sexy outfits she wore on her missions were considered a business expense, ensuring that she would be reimbursed as part of her clients’ fees. But it wouldn’t have occurred to her to buy the kinds of luxury outfits that the Finery sold. The lingerie alone started in the hundreds for a bra no less, and rose to astronomical heights when you got into what the store euphemistically called dresses.
Glancing at the items on the display models, Sapphire decided the price wasn’t the only thing that was outrageous at the Finery. Several of the ensembles were nothing more than a series of straps and ties that relied on the body beneath for its shape. Amazingly, the incredible creation looked even sexier than the model would’ve looked if she were naked.
Clearly, Jase was a regular. He nodded to the imperious woman who strode toward them followed at a discreet distance by three additional, obviously eager, sales women.
His voice was offhand, as if his request was expected in a boutique geared toward dressing wealthy women in outrageous clothes.
“Good afternoon, Georgette. A room, please, for me and my companion.”
The rail-thin yet imposing woman with rigidly coiffed helmet of white blond hair murmured disdainfully, “But of course, Jase. Your usual?”
Nodding in agreement, Jase tightened his grip on Sapphire’s arm and completed the introductions. “Georgette, this lovely woman is Sapphire.”
Turning to Sapphire, he said in a pleasant voice, “Sapphire, please meet Georgette, the woman to whom I owe my exceptional taste in fine clothing.”
Sapphire almost guffawed at that depiction of the risqué clothes gracing the curvaceous, essentially naked, mannequins throughout the room. At that moment she realized that Jase hadn’t let go of her arm and was following, no, make that leading, her into the room Georgette indicated. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them. The room was three times the size of any dressing room she had been in. It looked more like a fancy salon. Comfortable chairs were grouped around a glass topped table. Crystal flutes and an ice bucket chilling a bottle of Dom Pérignon Rosé stood on a bar off to the side. In the middle of the room was a raised dais, essentially, an “in-the-round” stage. Two of the walls were covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. The only thing that was absent, Sapphire realized with a start, was a curtain or any pretense of a private changing room.
Her dismay was compounded when Jase released her arm and strode over to the bar
. He reached for the ornate bottle and asked over his shoulder, “Champagne, Sapphire? If you haven’t had this particular Dom Pérignon, I highly recommend it. It is one of my favorites.”
Sapphire tried not to stammer but it was useless. “I…I don’t understand, Jase. Is this the dressing room?”
His lips twitched and she didn’t miss the twinkle that sparkled in his eyes as he turned to open the champagne. After ceremoniously popping the cork, he poured two glasses and handed one to her then answered her question.
“I grant you, it is a tad more ornate than most but serves the purpose. And, yes, in answer to your question, this is the dressing room and the changing room.”
Sapphire stared at him and managed to squeak out the obvious question.
“Are you telling me that you intend to stay here…in this room, while I am trying on clothes?”
He raised his glass to her and said with a soft smile, “But of course. How else will I know when we have achieved the precise impression I wish to convey?”
His amused arrogance shattered her fear and she gave into the outrage rising in its place.
“You can’t mean that, Jase. If you actually think that I will allow you to stand there…”
She corrected herself as he settled into one of the overstuffed chairs, confirming that this wasn’t the first time he had been in this “private” dressing room, “I…mean sit there like a sultan on his throne, and watch me try on clothes, you are crazy.” She glared at him and shook her head fiercely from side to side to emphasize the point.
Jase laughed but his response was cut short by the entrance of their unsmiling hostess. Georgette frowned as she studied Sapphire. Her surgically smooth face wouldn’t have allowed a smile if she’d chosen to twist her lips into one. Instead she gazed at Sapphire as if she were a problem to solve. A difficult problem.
With a heavy sigh she turned to Jase. “Which do you want to emphasize? Her breasts or her legs?”
Ignoring Sapphire’s shocked gasp at being viewed as a collection of body parts, like a chicken, Jase pursed his lips considering the question then answered with the slightest hint of amusement, “If possible, I would like to focus on them both.”
Georgette sniffed as if she’d expected his answer.
“But of course.”
Turning to Sapphire, she dragged her gaze over Sapphire’s body, starting at her feet and landing on her neck. Apparently not seeing anything that pleased her, she said with an aloof shrug, “If you would, my dear, please step up onto the dais and turn in a circle so that I can determine your sizes.”
When Sapphire stared at her not hiding her surprise, Georgette added.
“And if you don’t mind, take off your clothes. All of them.”
Glad that she managed not to splutter in outrage, Sapphire pressed her lips together and faced the haughty woman head on.
“And if I do mind?”
Jase’s crisp order cut through her attempt to gain control of the untenable situation.
“Your clothes, Sapphire. Off. Now.”
Chapter 14
Jase fought to control his grin, watching Sapphire’s cheeks flame with a mixture of embarrassment and anger underscored by a healthy dose of disbelief. He kept his narrowed gaze focused on her not allowing her to look away. He watched the warring emotions stealing across her face. They were more apparent than he wished they were. He needed her to be able to mask her feelings, her surprise, and especially her outrage. It was a cinch they were heading into a domain where her every look, tone of voice, and unchecked response—both physical and emotional, would be studied and played upon. Roberto Ventrilo was a master at reading people. He could spot a plant with his eyes closed. Jase had seen him participate in a congenial conversation with an unwary guest then abruptly signal one of his men. At that moment, the unfortunate individual would be ushered from the room. Only the distant screams, and fact that he never reappeared, confirmed that Roberto had seen through his cover.
For the moment Jase gave Sapphire the benefit of the doubt. He’d seen her steely reserves when she confronted the gang thugs on the infamous video. Both Ian and Diamond had confirmed that in operator mode she was a virtual chameleon. She could assume her intended persona and never reveal a single crack in her façade no matter how challenging the situation. He hoped so. It was essential that they both keep a tight rein on their emotions, particularly since they were running so high. For a brief moment Jase wondered if she, or more frankly, they, could work as partners. He admitted to himself that he’d never reacted to a woman the way that he was reacting to Sapphire. She’d gotten under his skin in ways he was having a hard time coming to grips with. Which made it even more imperative that they were both able to conceal their true feelings.
He settled back in his chair, took a lazy sip of his champagne, and waited to see how she would respond to his outrageous demand. He was gratified to see her expression imperceptibly harden as she glanced from him to Georgette. Seeing her gaze settle on the ramrod straight woman who was eyeing her disapprovingly, Jase saw the accomplished operator subtly emerge. Facing her target, a slight smile, utterly devoid of humor, curved her full lips. It was her only visible change of emotion. Her voice held a faint challenge.
“My sizes are easily discernable, Madame. I’m larger on the top than I am on the bottom, and I’m five feet eight inches tall, much of which I owe to my long legs; plenty long enough to reach the ground, as Mr. Lincoln said. For those reasons, it is difficult for me to find a dress that fits properly which is why I customarily rely on separates.”
Throwing Jase a challenging glance, she added, “I have particular tastes in clothing and am more than capable of deciding which clothes make the most of my assets.”
Before Georgette could respond, Jase rose to his feet. He ambled over to the bar and refilled his glass. Leaning back against the bar he crossed his feet at the ankles and met her gaze through narrowed eyes. With a flick of his finger he motioned to the raised platform. He kept his tone even, almost casual.
“The dais, please, Sapphire. And then your clothes. All of them. You need to understand. No one knows her clothing as Georgette does.” He added with a slight grin, “She is almost as adept as I when determining what size a woman needs, and which clothing options will best convey the intended impression.”
When Sapphire continued to stare at him and didn’t move, he repeated softly.
“Now, Sapphire.”
After a brief pause, Sapphire’s slight smile widened but didn’t reach her eyes. Meeting his gaze, she nodded then moved toward the dais. Stepping up onto the edge of the platform, a distant expression crossed her face. Her languid movements as she walked to the center of the stage reminded him of a sleek panther. A panther that was more than aware of the response she was having on her audience. She reached behind her and slowly began to unbutton her tight halter top. When the buttons were free, she held the top against her chest for a long moment, then casually let it drop to the floor. Jase managed to quench the surge of emotion tightening his breath at the sight of her full breasts. Showcased in a strip of gossamer white netting, her nipples tightened into hard tips at his open gaze. For a brief moment he allowed himself the vicarious pleasure of imagining his tongue laving the distended nubs.
Sapphire’s only acknowledgement of her nipples’ betrayal of her studied nonchalance was a minute flush of crimson on her cheeks that disappeared as quickly as it came. Continuing her languorous movements, she undid the clasp on her pencil skirt and tugged on the zipper. She held the skirt in place for a brief moment, then slid it over her slim hips guiding it to the floor. Standing in front of him in her bra and the merest scrap of lace covering her mons, Jase’s detachment was severely challenged at the sight of her sensational legs, a dancer’s legs. His breath hitched at the sight of her thigh-high, lace topped stockings that, in combination with her four-inch high-heeled strappy sandals, made her long, toned legs even more spectacular. Determined to keep his untoward response
to her beautiful body somewhat controlled he raised his hand in a casual twirling motion indicating that she should turn around and show him her backside.
If she was embarrassed or angered by his silent command, Sapphire kept her expression impassive. If anything she openly taunted him, underscoring her slow sensuous rotation, with a saucy upturn of one, then the other of her shapely hips. Turning back to face him she met his eyes with her chin held high. Jase sipped on his champagne and then motioned to her underwear. Keeping his tone even, he said simply, “Off.” He waited a brief moment to judge her reaction, and then softened his order. Waving a hand at her “fuck me” shoes, Jase added with a slight smile, “You can leave the shoes on.”
Sapphire sucked in a long, slow breath as quietly as she could. No matter what Jase did, she refused to let him see how rattled she was. If was bad enough that she was wearing these damn high heels. Her shaky legs just made the stilt-like stilettos more treacherous. Of course he would insist that she leave them on. Men! God, they were so transparent. What was it about “hooker heels” that turned them on as much as they did? Yes, they made her legs look even longer, even more toned. But Sapphire believed there was something more compelling about the precarious shoes that fascinated men. It was the way that they essentially contained a woman. Kept her in her place. After all, who the hell could run fast, or even keep up with, a long-legged man when wearing heels that made quick movements challenging.
She chided herself. Enough contemplation of the sociology of high heels and why men loved them. She knew what Jase was doing. She even understood why. They were heading into a dangerous mission. He had to know that he could trust her. That she would follow orders, not question his commands. So what did the fucker do to test her? He ordered her to strip for him, down to nothing. Nothing except these damnable shoes. At first it took everything she had to obey him. Sapphire wanted to storm out of the boutique and tell him, and that haughty bitch who was laughing at her behind her back, to go to hell. But her competitive spirit kicked in. She decided that if he thought that removing her clothes in front of him—at his command, no less—would embarrass her, that she wouldn’t do it, he could think again.
