by Marcia James
Suzi nodded and forced herself to take the toy from Lotty’s hand. Its soft plastic lips, painted a bright red, formed a perfect O.
“Place it over his pride and joy,” Lotty instructed.
With reluctance, Suzi slid the vibrator down the doll’s hard shaft. Lotty took the hand control and moved to the doll’s head. As she massaged the doll’s temples, the sex consultant turned the vibrator to the lowest setting. The male doll bucked as though in a seizure and shimmied across the tabletop.
“That looks like a lot of fun,” Suzi joked.
“It works better on the live ones.” Lotty’s smile was a little wicked as she turned off the vibrator. “They like it even better if you blindfold them.” When Suzi gaped at her, Lotty continued. “Just tell them it heightens their sense of touch to wear a blindfold. That way, you don’t have to worry about them staring at you while you work.”
The sex consultant pulled a package of disposable latex gloves out of her bottomless briefcase. “And, whatever you do, always wear gloves when you work, even though the Xecutive Branch’s clientele is pretty select.” Lotty handed the gloves to Suzi. “The club provides these in every room.”
Suzi just nodded, controlling her nervous joking with effort.
“And if anyone asks for a little oral pleasure, just say you’re allergic and have asthma.” Lotty smiled at Suzi’s horrified look. “If the john doesn’t like it, he can always book a different masseuse the next time.”
“Tilt.” Suzi’s mind swirled with nightmarish images of male members and sex toys, latex gloves and blindfolds. “Maybe I could get a job on the club’s cleaning crew? Or maybe they need a temporary office clerk?”
Lotty shook her head but her expression was sympathetic. “Sorry, kid. You’ll have a lot more access to the club and its secrets as one of the customer-servicing staff. Besides, your boyfriend will love all the little tricks you’ll be learning.”
Suzi almost asked, “What boyfriend?” but stuck to her policy of never discussing her love life—or lack thereof—at work. Lotty turned back to her briefcase, extracted a tiny cylinder and strapped it to her index finger with a Velcro band. Holding the finger up, the sex consultant touched a button that set the toy humming.
“This tiny vibrator can be used on the low setting to massage neck muscles, temples, even the male G-spot, you know, that smooth skin behind their testicles,” Lotty instructed. “But never use it to internally stimulate the prostate and give a john an A-spot orgasm. The vibrator could slip off and not be seen for a month of Sundays.”
Too numb to be shocked anymore, Suzi pulled a notepad out of her jacket pocket and began to take notes.
Chapter Five
Dalton glanced up from the paperwork on his desk as the interrogation room door squeaked open. Suzi exited the room followed by a smiling, business-suited woman. Dalton shook his head in amazement. The bullpen rumors were true. Metro PD had hired Luscious Lola as a consultant. For the first time in days, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
As Dalton watched, Lola shifted her soft-sided briefcase so she could shake hands with Suzi. The petite detective smiled and said something to the ex-prostitute before they parted company. Standing, Dalton approached Suzi as she walked over to her desk and placed a large and obviously heavy plastic bag on its surface. A man-sized, deflated foot protruded from the bag.
“Hi, Cho,” Dalton said as he reached her desk. “Whatcha got there? Boyfriend-in-a-bag? Just add air?”
“Yeah, I need a date next Friday. It’s Valentine’s Day, you know.” Suzi was quick as always with the comeback. “How ’bout you? You going to fill your inflatable woman with helium and get high on love?”
“Half the squad would volunteer as your date if you’d give ’em a chance,” Dalton ribbed her. “Of course, you’d have to knock off those ‘don’t touch’ vibes and maybe flirt a little.”
“Don’t start with me, Bull,” she warned.
At the sound of Jason’s nickname for him, Dalton winced and rubbed an ache under his breastbone. His partner had bestowed the “Bull” handle on him, not for his eighteen-inch neck and muscular build, but for the line of bullshit Dalton successfully fed to women when he was on the make. He’d suffered the nickname with grace before but now it was a painful reminder of his dead friend.
“I miss him too.” Suzi pitched the words for his ears only.
Dalton looked into her dark, empathetic eyes and nodded. Then clearing his throat, he put his plan into action. “Want to join me for a double latte break at Starbucks?”
“Anything to get away from the cop-shop java and the contents of this bag.”
Suzi gestured to the groaning package, which was slowly settling onto its side. Another stiffer part of the inflatable man now protruded from the bag. With a gasp, Suzi shoved the offending appendage back out of sight. As Dalton snorted in an effort not to laugh, she opened her desk drawer and grabbed a roll of duct tape. In less than sixty seconds, she’d taped every inch of the bag closed.
Dalton gave a short whistle. “With reflexes like that, you should take up calf roping.”
Suzi eyed him with suspicion as she removed her coat from the back of her desk chair and shrugged it on. “Was that a compliment? Or are you trying to steer—no pun intended—the conversation to Bull riding?”
Dalton smiled at that. Suzi was a pal. He’d never put the moves on her. She was pretty in an exotic, girl-next-door way and courageous under fire, but he thought of her as a little sister. And despite his general mistrust of women, he knew he could rely on her.
“I plead innocent,” he said as they walked out of the bullpen. Dalton pushed open a side exit door and held it for her. As she slipped past him, he adopted an exaggerated Texan accent and continued. “But, if you ever get a hankering to try a few rodeo moves, just give me a holler.”
The good-natured ribbing continued as they strolled down the block to Starbucks. The February chill was almost welcome after the stifling heat in the bullpen. When they reached the coffee shop, Dalton again opened the door for Suzi, who marched in and claimed one of the few open tables. They hung their coats on their chair backs to hold the table and walked to the counter to order. The rich aroma of ground coffee was so pervasive, he wondered if he could get a caffeine buzz just by breathing the air in the shop.
Dalton ordered a double latte. Suzi however took forever to choose her drink, finally settling on hazelnut. After dissing her about her sissy coffee selection, he paid for both drinks and they wound their way back to their table.
Suzi slid onto her wooden chair, giving Dalton a curious look as he gingerly lowered his sore backside onto his seat.
“What? An old bullet wound acting up?” she asked.
Dalton made a production out of stirring his double latte, hoping the steam from the hot drink would mask his blush. The tenderness was a souvenir from his visit with Mistress Bella.
“I strained my lower back a little moving my stuff into Jason’s house.” He didn’t meet her eyes.
“Oh that’s right.” The compassion was clear in her voice. “I heard he left you his house.”
“Yeah, and one scary cat. All it does is stare at me.”
“I’ve met Chi,” Suzi answered. “The cat probably misses Jason as much as we do.”
Dalton nodded, the pain of Jason’s death palpable between them. Lost in thought, he sipped his hot drink. Finally, Suzi reached across the small table and placed her hand on his.
“Look, Bull, I know you want to be a part of this investigation but the captain’s just looking out for your skin.”
Again Dalton nodded. Then he jumped into the reason he’d maneuvered Suzi away from prying police ears. “I can’t officially be part of the investigation,” he began. “But I’m available to do phone calls, legwork, whatever you need.”
Removing the warm weight of her hand from his, Suzi looked as if she were about to argue. He hurried on. “I can’t sit on my thumbs while you search for Jason
’s killers. I’ll quit the force, if that’s what it takes to be involved.”
Suzi sighed and folded her hands around the cup of hazelnut coffee. For several seconds she peered into the hot liquid as though it were a crystal ball.
“Dalton, I’ll share everything we find out with you, keep you apprised of every move we make but that’s it.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “That’s all I can do. You know Jason wouldn’t want you to lose your badge over this.”
Dalton cursed, the ripe expletive drawing shocked looks from nearby coffee drinkers. Apologizing, he lowered his voice and tried a more persuasive approach.
“I think the captain’s right to put someone on the club’s staff, although I don’t like thinking about you there,” he said truthfully. “And I know from Jason’s journal that customers have limited access to the club.”
Suzi leaned forward in her chair. “Jason kept a journal?”
“Yep, he had several covering all his cases. He wanted to be a crime novelist, like Joseph Waumbaugh,” Dalton explained.
“There anything that could help us in his latest journal?”
“Most of it was about Mistress Tori,” he said. “But after her interrogation the other day, I don’t think she’s involved in what happened.”
On Tuesday, Dalton had joined Suzi observing Tori Preston’s questioning through the two-way mirror of the screening room. Comparing notes afterward, they’d agreed the S&M moonlighting coed had been sincerely distraught over Jason’s death.
“If you don’t mind,” Dalton said, “I’d like to take a look at the tape of Tori’s interrogation in case we missed anything.”
“Sure. I’ll put my copy in an envelope on your desk when we get back,” Suzi said. “Just keep a low profile, okay, so Bennett doesn’t chew my ass out.”
Dalton nodded and took another drink of his coffee. The dark roast was pleasantly bitter on his tongue and the caffeine was finally hitting his brain. It was time to tell Suzi the rest. He cleared his throat and took the plunge. “Even though the club’s customers can’t wander around the place at will, I purchased my membership card last night.”
“You what?” Her voice rose an octave.
“I went undercover as the owner of a security firm—a guy with a craving for some domination.”
This time the creative curse words were from Suzi’s lips and the couple next to them angrily moved to a corner table. Neither detective spared them a second look.
“Are you nuts?” Suzi asked.
“Cool it, Cho,” Dalton tried to hush her As he glanced around the dimly lit Starbucks. Curious patrons turned away from his glare. He faced Suzi again. “There’s nothing you can say to talk me out of it. And if you think bringing the captain into this will stop me, you’re dreaming.”
Suzi searched his eyes then capitulated. “Okay, you win. I owe you and Jason for saving my butt during that riot so I won’t tell Bennett. But while you’re being some S&M loose cannon, try not to blow my cover and get us both killed.”
Dalton leaned forward. “It’s not as if I’ll be at the club every night. You can feed me names of staffers and I can do some legwork. I’ll stakeout their homes, follow their cars, whatever you need. And I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Like what?” Suzi’s voice held an edge of sarcasm. “Which whip is Mistress Tori’s favorite?”
“For your information, Tori Preston quit the club.”
Suzi’s curiosity beat out her irritation. “That’s interesting. She claimed she was moving back to Pennsylvania, so maybe she did. I guess we can check up on her.”
“Consider it done,” Dalton said. “The woman who’s taking Tori’s clients goes by Mistress Bella. Think you can get me her real name so I can dig up the dirt?”
“Consider it done,” Suzi parroted with a reluctant smile. “As long as I get the masseuse job, we can share information.” She took a sip of her drink. “My interview’s tomorrow so I’ll have to ‘cram for the exam’ tonight. If the club’s personnel director has the poor judgment to hire me, I’ll try to meet Bella as soon as I’m on the job.”
“Thanks, Suzi,” Dalton didn’t conceal his gratitude. “We’ve got to start somewhere. I just can’t believe Jason was killed because he uncovered a bunch of underage girls working at the club. There may be runaways on the staff but I’ve got a gut feeling there’s something bigger behind all of this.”
* * * * *
Dalton used the remote on Jason’s coffee table to pause the videotape. Tori Preston’s pale, tear-stained face loomed larger than life on the big-screen television. Her unblinking blue eyes shone with a pain that matched the misery Dalton viewed in the mirror every morning. This girl had cared for Jason.
He wasn’t surprised. Jason had been the best friend he’d ever had and a great partner. He’d been a wisecracking babe magnet but Dalton had trusted Jason with his life many times and found his trust well-placed. God, he missed him.
Dropping the remote into his lap, Dalton picked up a cold, leftover slice of the pizza that had been his dinner hours before. Despite the fact the meat toppings appeared to be petrified and the vegetables resembled a dried flower arrangement, he took a bite and washed it down with warm beer. He was too lost in thought to care much about his taste buds or his stomach lining.
Having watched the interrogation video several times, Dalton was convinced Tori’d had nothing to do with his partner’s murder. She’d been genuinely upset by his death. And her surprised reaction to the news Jason had been investigating the employment of underage runaways at the club had been very believable. If Tori had been acting, she deserved an Oscar.
Dalton lifted the remote and pushed the play button. The TV picture jumped to life as the pretty blonde answered a question about the club’s staff.
“All the employees I’ve met at the club are over eighteen. Most of them are young, college-age, but definitely adults.” Tori stopped and seemed to be scanning some mental files. “It’s possible runaways are involved in some of the private parties the clients throw.”
“Private parties?” Captain Bennett’s voice rumbled from off-camera.
“The clients can arrange hot tub or mattress room parties,” the girl explained. “The mattress rooms are just what they sound like, large rooms where the floors are covered with mattresses for the swingers.”
“And who picks the guest lists for these parties?” the captain questioned.
“The club’s manager Clyde Salvi will either hire party girls or the clients will bring their own guests.” Tori used her hands in a natural manner as she spoke and never avoided eye contact or blinked nervously. “I haven’t been to any of the parties so I can’t tell you about the girls who join in.”
Dalton used the remote to fast-forward the interrogation tape for several minutes. The high-pitched squeal of the video’s accelerated voices didn’t faze Chi, who perched like an Egyptian cat god on top of the television. When Dalton neared the end of the tape, he hit the play button to watch Tori’s final words again.
“I’ve given notice at the club,” the girl said. “I’m moving back to Pennsylvania to look after my mom who’s getting pretty frail.”
“Before you leave, we’ll need her name, address and phone number in case we have to reach you,” Captain Bennett’s disembodied voice explained.
“Sure,” Tori said. “I want Jason’s killer caught.” Her voice rose in volume and she trembled. “We became friends. I know he wasn’t a junkie. Somebody shot Jason full of drugs and threw him in the river. I want that person to pay.”
As Dalton watched, the girl looked down and two tears fell onto her tightly clasped hands. Then the screen went black. With a sigh, he rewound the video and slipped it into its envelope to return to Suzi in the morning.
Jason’s journal lay on a side table. Dalton reached for the leather-bound book, which now bristled with yellow sticky notes. Dalton had marked every page even slightly pertinent to the case. He turned now to a passage about the c
lub’s swinger parties and reread what Jason had written.
For an additional fee, the club’s swinging clients can hold parties in the mattress, theme or hot tub rooms. I’d bet my right nut Clyde Salvi “recruits” teenage runaways as talent for these orgies. Now if I could find just one of these kids willing to talk.
Dalton had seen surveillance photos of the club’s manager. Salvi was grim and intimidating—a knee-breaker with dead eyes. No wonder none of the runaway girls or boys wanted to talk. Captain Bennett had cops visiting shelters and local teen hangouts to interview the kids. But so far, they hadn’t turned up anyone willing to admit to working the Xecutive Branch parties. And Dalton was afraid they never would.
He flipped through the pages of the journal until a reference to Mistress Tori caught his eye.
Mistress Tori used a cat o’ nine tails tonight. I’ve discovered there’s a very fine line between pain and pleasure. The nerves stimulated by her whip sent shock waves straight to my cock. Afterward, I fisted myself as she watched. I loved the way her eyes followed my hand and her face flushed with excitement. When I came, it was harder and longer than ever before. What if I can never achieve an orgasm like that with anyone but Tori?
Dalton closed the journal and tossed it on the coffee table. He didn’t know which made him more uncomfortable—reading his buddy’s private words or worrying he’d become as addicted to Mistress Bella as Jason had been to Tori. Shutting his eyes, Dalton scanned the memory of his session with Bella. Had the humiliation and pain turned him on? Never one for self-delusion, he admitted some of the discomfort caused by Bella’s toys had produced a quasi-sexual rush. But it’d been an empty sensation devoid of emotion, like getting off with a prostitute. No, Dalton couldn’t see developing an addiction to Bella’s type of kinky stimulation.
Had he enjoyed turning over the dominant role to a woman? Being brutally honest, Dalton acknowledged that relinquishing control had been erotic. There were no worries about performance when you weren’t even allowed to touch your partner in the sexual game. And it had been a game, albeit an intense one. Even in handcuffs, Dalton hadn’t been helpless. At any time, he could’ve used the safe word and the session would’ve ended. So he’d allowed Bella to call the shots and that had been arousing.
