by Linda Wright
“I barely got into it.”
“I never knew you had such a hot figure.”
“Keep your eyes on the crowd, Doctor. We have a job to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The pair passed a cloakroom, staffed by two smartly-dressed young women in white blouses and blue waistcoats. Through a pair of open doors, a hallway led off toward the back of the building. Two staircases swept to left and right, curving outward and upward to the next floor. Doorways on either side of the hall led off to rooms, but Amari’s eye was on the huge daylight room beyond the stairs. Scores, maybe a hundred people were gathered there, all smartly dressed.
“We should split up,” Amari whispered. “Before they see us.”
“Keep your purse with you at all times,” he advised, before slipping into one of the side rooms. Fear chilled her. She walked alone, toward who knew what. Somewhere in this place could be the person or persons responsible for Gillian’s scars. Hers and the other three women’s. How would she know them? Would they be alone, or in a group? Did they own the place, or might they slip into parties like this and mingle, seducing women for reasons unknown, men with no consideration for the damage and distress they caused. They might not even be men, something she hadn’t considered until that moment.
“Now that is unforgiveable,” a man said.
Amari jumped, caught unawares. “What?”
“My apologies. I startled you.” Beside her, a tall man bowed, exposing a balding pate. When he straightened, his face was lined with age. His lips quirked upward, but it was a weary smile, an effort to placate her rather than demonstrate happiness.
“What was unforgivable?” she asked in a small voice. Did he know she was a fake socialite? He couldn’t have. She had the right dress, the shoes, and the bag to go with it.
“You have no drink. This is sinful. Where are our manners?”
“Oh. Yes, well, I only arrived a minute ago. No panic.” She indicated the doorway.
“Come.” He offered his arm, bent at the elbow. “I shall escort you to the bar.”
“There’s really no need,” she assured him. “We can walk side by side.”
“You mistrust me?” He shook his head. “So sad, so sad.”
“It’s not that. I hardly know you.” She glanced around, but no-one was paying attention. He hadn’t withdrawn his arm. She sighed, then slipped her hand past his elbow, and together they walked down the remainder of the hall, into the gathering of well-heeled people.
The bar ran along the back of the daylight room, hugging the wall, leaving the other three sides free for uninterrupted full-height glass. Steered by her older escort, Amari stepped up to the bar. A smartly-dressed barman raised an eyebrow and she ordered a rum and coke—no ice.
“Your dress is exquisite,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“It’s an Erdem Moralioglu, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Well done.”
“And you enjoy it?”
“It’s one of my favorites. I feel like Kate Middleton every time I wear it.”
“Actually…” he straightened the center of the trio of shoulder straps. “This was the style worn by Victoria Beckham.”
“Victoria?” Amari felt cold, exposed.
“Whoever sold it to you has their facts wrong.”
“I…” Damn! What in the hell? What do I say to that? I must look like such a fool, and a fake!
But he spared her. “What brings you to La Casa?” he asked.
“I heard it was the place to be.” She drummed her fingers nervously on the bar top, recalling the lines she’d rehearsed with Paul.
“Our reputation is well-deserved. What is it you seek?”
“Excitement, lifestyle at the next level.” She sipped her drink. “And maybe companionship.”
“Then you are open to new experiences?”
Amari smiled. She hoped it looked genuine. “Absolutely. What can you offer.”
The man nodded, although he wasn’t looking at her face. He seemed to be focused on something behind her. When he stepped forward, she instinctively leaned back. Something scratched her arm.
“Ow…” She spun, but saw nothing that might have been responsible.
“Are you all right?”
“Something… I don’t know… something scratched me.”
“So tell me more about your desires,” he continued, as if nothing had happened.
“What?” She pressed a hand to her stinging arm.
“You were telling me what you want from life.”
I… there’s more to life… um… than working to make others rich?” She glanced around, hoping to spot Paul. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just the scratch. Something was very wrong. Her mind was whirling, her heart racing. Panic clutched her. “I think I need some air…”
“Of course.” He indicated the garden beyond the daylight room. “The nearest door is this way.”
“Sure. Right.” As she began to move, her head grew light. “Thank…” The room tilted...
…and the memories ended.
~
Warmth enveloped her, cosseting her naked body, thrilling her nerves with soft, tender touches. She lay prone on something soft and accommodating, and a reassuring presence held her close, as if she was a babe in the womb. Never before had she never experienced such exquisite pleasure, of being kissed on every part of her body simultaneously, of being caressed by multiple hands, numerous fingers and soft, pliable lips. She opened her mouth to exploring tongues, smiling as gentle hands caressed her cheeks.
She was wet between her legs, although she had no idea why, except that she felt loved, adored and wanted. Her legs were open wide, inviting whomever lay atop her to fulfil her with hard, eager flesh. For an age, she ached in vain for the touch of swollen heat to ease into her, but when her unseen lover finally complied, she was unprepared for the invasion of her intimate flesh, for his girth to stretch her as much as it did.
But she took him into her, thrilling as his skin slid across hers, lubricated by her urgent need and desperate wanting. Her muscles squeezed his hardness, to find him firm and aroused. His entry forced a long groan from her lungs, as if accommodating him had displaced air from her chest.
In addition to the legion of kissers and caressers, she became aware of others, standing around her, possibly waiting their turn with her body. Two of them knelt beside her outstretched right arm, pressing their lips to her wrist. Their touch thrilled her, setting her heart thumping, although she had no inkling why she should be so excited by their attentions. Suffice to say, their mouths electrified her, sending waves of energy through her body and into her loins, where her muscles were clenching themselves around the stroking invader, in preparation for milking his emissions.
His long groan and wash of heat deep inside signalled his climax, but not the end of his arousal, for he continued to pleasure her long after ordinary lovers would have wilted. And when he was replaced by another, she smiled and took him inside her, anticipating a new wave of delights. The dream was so real, she marvelled, exquisite in every sensual detail, except for sight. Indistinct darkness filled her eyes, leaving the crowded figures as little more than silhouettes. But as long as their loving continued, it was something she could compromise on. Heat spread up her arms as the pair continued to press their mouths to her. She sighed at the simultaneous thrill of the stroking hardness within her, and the hot mouths at her wrist.
But when one of them, a woman, raised her head to smile, her teeth were stained pink, and her lips were deep red. A single dark drop fell from her lower lip to mark the bed covers.
Amari screamed.
~
“Amari?” a man asked again. His voice was insisted, and concerned. Big hands cupped her shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“Come back to me. Please…”
“Who?”
“It’s Paul. Paul Siddig.”
“Paul?”
“Yes. Come back to me
.”
“I’m here, I’m here…” she muttered. What was wrong with him? Why was he bugging her?
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“What happened?” Her mind was foggy, her thoughts sluggish. All she could do was echo his words.
“Yes, what happened to you last night?”
“I… no. What night?” Where was she? Her hands moved from her lap to explore her surroundings. She wasn’t in bed, at least. No, she was sitting upright, on a sofa, or soft chair of some kind. Was she home? Multiple overlapping voices washed over her. She was in a public space, then. The noise hurt her ears. She opened her eyes and stared around the lounge. People queued, muttering impatiently. Others carried coffees away from harassed-looking baristas who served as quickly as the professional coffee machines would allow. Paul sat directly opposite her on a low seat, peering into her eyes with deep concern. Behind him stood two cops, one male and one female, their thumbs hooked into their belts as they scanned the rubber-necking crowd.
“What’s with the uniforms?” Amari asked. Her throat was dry. Paul pressed a glass of milk into her hands. She smiled weakly and drank half of it.
“Just milk? All I can smell is coffee.”
“Call it a hunch, but I like to think it’ll help.”
“Alkalinity?” Her mind was starting to work again, although she still had no idea what she was doing in a coffee shop.
“Exactly. Snake venom is acidic.”
“Snake… venom?”
“Yes. I think you were given a mild dose. It might account for your disorientation.”
Dots began to connect in her head. She glanced down at the expensive dress she wore. Her heart sank. Deliberately, she turned over her right hand and stared at the two puncture wounds in her forearm. “Aw, shit…”
Paul’s hand covered hers. “I’m so sorry. I lost sight of you.”
“We were together?” She frowned.
“I had you in sight. When that old man led you out into the garden, I tried to follow, but two big guys blocked my way. By the time I got past, the garden was empty.”
“What old man?”
“I searched all night. I’m sorry, Amari. I let them take you.”
I don’t remember an old man. “It sounds as if we got in over our heads.”
“Yes, we probably did. But I needed to know what had happened to those other women. We both did.”
“So which garden was I in?”
“Behind La Casa. Do you remember?”
“I don’t remember anything after I put on this dress.”
“Do you remember the Jaguar? Supercharged vee-eight?”
She smiled. “You obviously do.”
“We drove to Detendez-vous?” He phrased it as a question, hoping to trigger a memory, but she shook her head. “You saw patient two, and we left.”
“La Casa? The nightclub?”
“Paul nodded. “The Wildfire Club was next, but you had a hunch La Casa was a better bet.” He dropped his head. “I didn’t believe you.”
“It was the right place?”
He squeezed her hand gently. “It would appear so.”
“I don’t remember going to any of those places.”
“Fortunately, technology is on hand to help.” He turned to the cops and held out his hand. Amari’s black clutch bag appeared. He handed it to her, but she’d no idea what he expected her to do with it.
“You hid a tracker inside there, somewhere.”
“I did?”
“Uh-huh. Please…” he indicated the bag, and Amari opened it, then rummaged inside.
“What does it look like?”
“Small, black, about half the size of a cell phone.”
“There’s nothing in here apart from some make-up and my keys.”
Paul frowned. “You’re certain?”
“One hundred percent. Here.” She handed the clutch bag over. Paul took a deep breath and searched inside. After a minute he groaned and dropped the bag onto the table. “Dammit!”
“The tracker would have told you where I’d been taken, wouldn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
“Will you both be okay now?” the female cop asked.
“I think so,” Paul replied. “Thanks for looking after her.”
“Thanks for the coffee vouchers.”
“Least I could do.”
“They were looking after me?” Amari watched them leave. Why couldn’t she remember anything?
“You were found wandering around in the mall. Someone must have called the cops, who called me.” He plucked a contact card from her bag and held it between two fingers.
“You’re my surrogate family.” She smiled. An only child, Amari had lost her mother shortly after starting medical college.
“Our contingency, in case we got separated,” he reminded her.
“I don’t remember.” She felt miserable, useless.
He squeezed her hand again. “We’ll help you remember, and we’re going to stop whatever’s going on in this city.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be much use to you now.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the best witness yet!”
“How do you figure?”
“Because you have first-hand experience. Somewhere in your head are the memories of what happened and where you went.”
“And if you try to reach them, I’ll probably go crazy, like the other women.”
“But don’t you see? I won’t have to. You can probe whatever’s supressing the memories. You’re a doctor. You can figure out new approaches that your patients never would.”
“I guess…”
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Of course I do. I’m…” She sighed. “I’m tired, and scared.”
“Let’s get you home. Have a hot shower, and let your mind settle. Don’t push yourself until you’re more determined to break through. And we can figure things out together. This is what I do, remember?” When she nodded, he smiled and helped her to her feet. “Good girl. Now, come on. Time to get you out of that slinky dress.”
Amari raised an eyebrow. “Nicely phrased, lover boy.”
“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“So I have to do it by myself? You’re such a disappointment to me.”
“I can’t win this, can I?”
“You can, but only if you’re very, very nice to me.”
“How about a nice foot rub?”
“See, now you’re saying the right things. Take me home, please. I want to get undressed.” It was Paul’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “So I can shower, dopey.”
“Of course. I knew that.”
~
Skin scrubbed clean of her mysterious encounter, Amari emerged from the bathroom to find Paul sitting down with a coffee.
“Make yourself at home.”
He leaned back and smiled. “I already did. There’s more in the pot.”
“I’m more in the mood for wine.”
Paul spun the small sample tube between his fingers. His manner was casual, but he took great care not to drop the tube. Valuable evidence, taken from Amari’s scars, might offer important clues. Another tube on Amari’s dressing table contained intimate samples she’d taken from herself. She’d no idea if she’d been to bed with anyone, but they needed clues…
“Can I ask… when you were showering, did you notice any unusual marks on your skin?”
“Aside from these?” She offered her arm. The scars were glowing red.
“Yes, any others?”
“Not that I noticed. Do you want to check me out?” She unfastened the tie on her bathrobe.
“Ah…”
“We can be professional about this, can’t we?”
“Of course.” He laid the tube carefully on the table and drew his fingers down his face. “For now, you’re patient number five.”
Amari rubbed her new scars. “It’s a position I never expected to end up in. How the hell did it happen
?”
“Because I didn’t protect you properly.” His jaw tightened.
“They’ve done it at least four times before. It’s wasn’t your fault. They’d probably practised.”
“They were organized. The two who blocked me were acting in concert. They knew what they were doing.”
“So…” Amari turned her back and dropped the robe from her shoulders.
“Yeah.” Paul rose to his feet. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Thanks for that.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I meant—”
“Relax, lover boy. I’m kidding.” She let the robe slip to the floor, and stood before her work colleague, naked as a baby.
Paul blew out his cheeks and stepped forward, his eyes already scanning her skin for defects. Tense, she glanced over her shoulder—to find him missing. But he’d dropped into a crouch, running his gaze up her bare legs and over her buttocks. She felt desperately self-conscious as he appraised her closely.
“You’re clear on this side. Do you feel ready to turn around?”
“Oh, boy…” With fists clenched, she spun to face him, face flushed as he drank in the sight of her nudity. “Please be quick.”
“I’m being thorough,” he assured her.
“This isn’t fair.”
“What isn’t fair?”
“You’ve seen mine but I haven’t seen yours.”
“Later, Amari, later,” he said distractedly. She stiffened as he rose to his feet, his gaze lingering on to her chest.
“Finished? Seen enough?”
“Almost. Let me see your arms.”
“My arms? I stand naked in front of you and—”
“Amari, please.”
“Okay. Here.” She thrust out her arms, fists still clenched. Paul took hold of her wrists, then turned her arms over. Aside from the two puncture wounds, he saw nothing untoward.
“Just the two marks, then.” He moved closer, sliding his fingers up her arms and over her elbows.
“Can I get dressed now?” She shivered as he moved closer, painfully aware of her nudity.
“In a minute. I’m not finished looking you over.” His fingertips brushed her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered closed.
“Paul, I…”
