The Blue Room Vol. 6

by Kailin Gow

  The Blue Room

  The Blue Room

  VOL. 6

  Kailin Gow

  The Blue Room (The Blue Room Vol 6)

  Published by Kailin Gow Books

  Copyright © 2015 Kailin Gow

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For information, please contact:

  Kailingowbooks(at)aol(dot)com.

  First Edition.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  For my readers

  Prologue

  Staci

  I get up, shakily. Every single part of me is throbbing. I can’t see straight. My vision is blurred, strange. Every shadow looks like a shape; every shape is like shadows.

  “Wait!” I call.

  The smell of the perfume is overpowering. It is intoxicating. It brings back the scent of Rita, of those winter nights we used to spend lying together on the couch or the bed, painting each other’s toenails, shaving each other’s legs, watching TV in one another’s arms. I can smell her skin against me now: so smooth, so soft, perfumed with that strange mixture of lavender of rose. The smell makes me reel; her loss hits me all over again. A pain I cannot bear. A pain I cannot stand. Rita is gone.

  Then who was just here? I try to regain my balance, rubbing the bump on my head my injury has newly formed. I rush to the corridor just in time to see a vanishing figure: a flash of ash-blonde hair that glints for a minute under the chandelier lights and then is gone. The elevator doors close together in front of her face.

  And then that’s it. She is gone, the same way Rita is gone. A flash, a hint, a clue to this mystery. And then nothingness. Then absence.

  I hold my gun tight. This is my one chance to run. I need to find out who this woman is, this woman who dares to wear Rita’s perfume.

  Was she my assailant? Or was she trying to protect me? I’m so confused I don’t even know which way is up and what is down.

  Have they taken my father prisoner? My heart stops as I start to put the pieces of my assault together. Is that what they came for: to grab my father and run? Maybe they weren’t looking for me at all: but for him. But if that’s so, why even take the elevator, where they might be seen by other patrons of the Blue Room or residents of Blue Towers? Wouldn’t they see a struggling man, fighting to break free of his captor?

  Unless, of course, he wasn’t struggling. Unless he was in cahoots with my assailant all along: and I was the real target, not him. But then: why would that woman tell me to run? Why am I here: safe, alive, with my gun in my hand, and my father is gone?

  More and more curious, I think. But how much further down the rabbit hole can I go before we all go mad?

  I decide to follow them: hot in pursuit. I take to the stairs. There’s only one exit, I think, the lobby: I can intercept them there.

  But when I make it to the stairs, a hand on my shoulder stops me. A warm: protective hand.

  “Terrence?” I turn around in surprise. “You scared me.”

  I try to hide my gun in my purse.

  “Staci…” His brow furrows with a concern that’s almost paternal. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  I don’t quite get my gun into my purse before he sees it.

  “Staci, what the hell is this?”

  I catch my breath and gulp. The gun is shining bright in my hand. I try to explain, but my lips are so dry. My mouth is so dry.

  “My room…” I can’t even find the breath for words. “There was someone in my room…”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know….” I fumble with every single syllable. “It was dark. It was so dark…I didn’t see who attacked me…” Then I stop myself. After all, for all I know, Terrence could have been the assailant himself? Rita had told me to beware of the whole Blue family: and Terrence was certainly no exception. He had secrets as well, that much I knew. And it was awfully convenient the way he just showed up here to intercept me in time for my assailant and my father to get away. Was he someone I should be confiding in?

  “Poor darling!” Terrence is pulling me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around me nice and tight. Is it an expression of affection – or does he just want to hold onto me in case I try to escape? “It must have been quite a scare for you – you must feel pretty in danger if you feel the need to get a gun…”

  I say nothing. I pull away from his embrace, backing away slowly.

  And then I remember his voice. Remember words he’d said just days ago. Things aren’t looking so good for Virginia, he’d said. Virginia.

  Rita.

  Did he know Rita? He’d gone away to see “Virginia” – and a few days later, she was dead? Was he responsible for Rita’s death? For all I know, he could be. Anybody could be. In the Blue Room, there is nobody you can trust. Not even the people you love. Especially not the people you love.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him. I eye him suspiciously. He’s staring at me with the same smile as ever: the same, wicked, devil-may-care smile that suggests nothing more serious than a roll in the hay. This is the man who might be a killer. This is the man who might be Mr. X.

  “I’m here to see you, silly.” Terrence is looking at me with loving eyes. “I missed you too much to stay away. I’m sorry I haven’t booked a session. I was actually hoping you’d be willing to see me…off the clock. Like in the old days. The doormen downstairs still know me; they love me. They let me up here. Plus, I have some news for you.”

  “I thought you had to be with your friend,” I say. “What was her name again?”

  He looks up at me in confusion.

  “Virginia, wasn’t it? How is she, Terrence?” I keep my hand on my gun. I back further away. If he attacks me, I’m not going to go down without a fight. I need the truth and I need it now. “She was sick, wasn’t she, when you saw her? She must have been…things weren’t looking so good for Virginia, were they?” I bite my lip. I stare him down. I try not to let his piercing blue eyes let me melt. I’m going to be strong, I tell myself. “What a funny coincidence,” I say. “I have a friend, too. She calls herself Virginia. At least she used to. You know what else she used to do? She used to be a Blues Girl, Terrence. Working right here. That’s the last I heard of her. Do you know anything about that, Terrence, or is that just a funny coincidence?”

  Terrence is looking up at me in shock. His eyebrows are crinkling together. His smile has become a deep frown. Lines have set into his face: lines I’ve never seen before. A look of surprise, of shock. And a certain sadness.

  “You did know her, didn’t you?” I ask him. I keep my voice low. “Was she special to you, Terrence? Was she your special Blues Girl, your favored one, your chosen one? Was she just like me to you? Did you tell her all the same lies you told me…”

  “Staci…” Terrence is stammering. He takes a step towards me; immediately I take one back, keeping the distance between us nice and strong. I don’t want to take any chances. Not if this man could be a killer. Not if he could be the man who caused the death of my best friend. “How stupid do you think I am, Terrence? Virginia might have trusted you but I don’t. Not anymore.”

  “Staci, please,” Terrence pleads with me with his eyes: so blue, so plaintive. “Please let’s not do this here. I can’t bear it. It’s not safe for me here; I’m not even supposed to be here. The senior Blues all have their spies on the staircase. Someone could see me. Can’t we just go back to your room or
something, somewhere safe where we could talk? I have news – there’s so much I’m supposed to say to you. There’s so much I need to explain. We just need to be alone together, Staci.”

  “Why, so you can kill me?”

  “Staci – what are you even…”

  “So you can kill me just like you killed your precious Virginia!” Tears sting at my eyes as I spit out the words. And it’s true, isn’t it? Terrence killed Rita. I can see it all, now. He got her alone: beat her up. Then he headed back to the rehab center in Malibu to finish the job.

  “Killed….what are you talking about? Virginia’s not dead.”

  “Yes,” I say. My throat tightens with the pain of saying it. “Yes she is. The rehab told me. She died only a couple days ago.”

  “What…no…that can’t…”

  And then Terrence bursts into tears. His voice shakes with sobs. His face crumbles. Suddenly, before me, he is a broken man: completely broken. Tears are streaming down his cheeks. “Not Virginia…” he whispers. “She can’t be.”

  “You’re saying you didn’t do it?”

  But I already have my answer. The man sobbing before me has just had his heart broken. There’s no way he could have known Virginia was dead: not even the best actor in the world could have convinced me like this man is convincing me know.

  “She was like a sister to me…” he keeps repeating those words over and over. “She was like a sister, you have to understand. She was just like a sister to me. Like a sister…”

  “You loved her, didn’t you?” My voice is hoarse, unsure. My grasp on truth is slipperier than ever. I have no idea what’s right, what’s wrong.

  “Not like that…” Terrence says. “Look, when your whole family is fucked up, sometimes a substitute sister is all you’ve got. She was my best friend. I know somebody hurt her. And I’ve been dedicating my life to finding out who hurt her, and why, so I could keep her safe…”

  I relent. I take his hand and pull him towards my room. I lock the door behind us and then I watch as he grieves, as he cries for Rita, as he does what in my numbness I feel so unable to do.

  But no sooner does he enter my room than Terrence stops crying. His sad and forlorn look changes into one of intense need, intense concentration. Like he’s a hunter, and I’m his prey. “Sweet, sweet Staci.” He shakes his head. In a single swift motion he grabs my wrist and forces the gun out of my hand. “You should never trust anyone from the Blue Room. Least of all a Blue. I can’t have you pointing this at me Staci. It might accidentally go off and then where would we be?” His voice deepens and becomes husky as he pins me against the wall, his body pressed to mine, his hand around my neck.

  “Now,” he says. “Tell me what you know.”

  Chapter 1

  I‘m in shock, paralyzed. What is going on? Less than a minute ago Terrence Blue was weeping, openly, sobbing at the death of Rita – or Virginia – or whatever her real name was: looking more vulnerable, more open to hurt, than I had ever seen him in all the time we had known one another. He had tugged at my heartstrings, then: made me trust him. Made me even want him. He had made me believe that he was somebody else in this vast and trustless universe who cared for Rita Malone as much as I did. But that time was past. Now, my gun is lying on the sofa across the room and Terrence’s fingers are tight against my wrist: holding me so tightly that I can tell there are bruises already on my pale golden skin. He is pushing me up against the wall, so violently, so brutishly, that the marbled wallpaper scratches at my back and left marks. And I hate to admit it, but it feels good. Too good. I’m moaning in ecstasy against myself as I smell the familiar aroma of his musk: the sweat that means he wants me as much as I want him. I try to control myself, to tell myself Staci, you’re in danger, but my body responds to his touch before my mind does. My body is arching its back, leaning back my head, exposing my throat to his thin, pursed lips, hoping that he will take my neck in his lips and suck them slowly, deliberately, until I come from the touch of his mouth on my neck alone.

  I try to tell myself no. That I am in danger. That I can’t trust Terrence Blue, now more than ever. But he has disarmed me in more ways than one. The truth of the matter is: I am his. I belong to Terrence Blue, utterly, completely. His body makes my mind go blank. His touch is more powerful than any gun, any knife could be, in making me submit.

  How strange, I think, that I have found the one career that is most dangerous for me. My body is capable of so much more desire, so much more passion, than I ever thought possible. But at the same time, my body is my greatest weakness. I am susceptible to the touch of a man as nobody else seems to be: willing to risk my life, my safety, my quest for the truth for a moment in the arms of a man who might be trying to kill me.

  He leans his face in towards mine until his lips are painfully close to my cheeks. An inch more and he would be kissing them. “So beautiful, Staci,” he murmurs in a sharp and throaty groan. “So flawless. So sexy. You have such perfect creamy skin. You have such luscious, rosebud-dark full lips. I like them now. But you know when I like them better, Staci? When they’re wrapped around my hard cock. When they’re sucking for dear life on my hard, hard cock. And that sweet, sweet, yet sultry, earthy voice of yours – with its clear-as-a-bell soprano? That gets me so hard as a rock whenever I hear it crying out in ecstasy. You don’t know how hard you get me when you suck me and moan. Don’t blame me, Staci. Don’t blame me for what I am. Don’t blame me for what I’ve done. You can’t blame a guy for wanting you – not even for falling for you – not even when you’re off limits.”

  I flush with a mixture of desire and confusion. What is going on? A second ago Terrence seemed to want to kill me. But now what he looks like it’s far more insidious – and devastating. He wants me. All of me. To possess me, to ravage me, to kill me, to keep me, I don’t know. His need is everything. His need encompasses everything. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. Everything that is or ever was me is subsumed within the completeness of his touch. I love the way he feels.

  My eyes widen in fear and disbelief as I struggle against my own primal desires. “Terrence?” I ask him, accidentally biting my own lip, so swiftly are they trembling against my teeth. “Terrence, what’s going on?”

  He leans in closer, so that his blue eyes are piercing into my own. “Oh, Staci.” He yanks off my T-shirt so violently that it tears, leaving me shivering in my bra. The he pulls down my jeans, his hand delving beneath my silk panties, finding the part of me that is fullest in desire. He feels how wet I am. He feels how much I want him. “Whenever I’m near you, I can’t help wanting you, Staci. You don’t know the extent to which I crave your taste. You don’t know how badly I crave your body, all the time. I want to lick you, Staci – lick you all over – lick every part of you until you’re screaming my name. I want you now.”

  He buries his face in my breasts, unhooking my bra with his free hand while slowly working his way over my clitoris with his other. He removes my bra and begins to kiss me, lightly brushing his lips over the top of my breasts before taking my right nipple in his mouth and starting to suck on it. “I want you to know that you’re the only girl I crave. You’re the only girl I can’t get enough of, no matter what. No other girl, Blue Girl or civilian, gets me hard enough to do what I’m doing for you. No other girl gets me hard enough to make me risk everything.” He sucks my nipple, licking it and sucking it in turn until I start seeing stars, overwhelmed by my desire. With his other hand he rubs me, going back and forth, making me moan. “You’re so wet already,” he says. He sigh. “I can’t wait to feel you clench around my cock when I get inside you, when I make you come.”

  I can’t even find the words to say no. I can’t even stop him. Right now I feel like if he kills me, it would be a fair price to pay for the privilege of coming. That’s how wet he makes me. That’s how much I want him now.

  My conscious mind tries to get information – to try to turn the situation to my advantage, but it’s agonizingly difficult
. “But what about V-v-v-irginia,” I try to say, my mouth opening into a moan against myself.

  “I never fucked her,” he says. “Not once. She was a friend. I swear she was a friend – I didn’t lie to you about that. She was beautiful, don’t get me wrong. Killer body. But something about her made me think of a sister. She wasn’t like you. I didn’t feel this need, this desire for her, like I did with you.

  “Then you’re not Mr. X?”

  “I wasn’t Mr. anything…” Terrence says. “I was never a patron at the Blue Room. Just a purveyor. Until I met you. I’m Mr. O. now. I’ve never been anything else. It was just that I wanted you so badly – I knew how much money I’d throw away on the ability to fuck you again…”

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “Rita – I mean Virginia – she was in love with her patron. Or at least I thought she was. Then she disappeared – and now she’s dead. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  He pushes me against the wall. With his strong forearms he lifts me off the ground so he can wrap my legs around his taut, chiseled abs. His fingers massage my wetness so thoroughly, so completely, that I’m slick and ready for him by the time he enters me: in a swift and athletic motion that fills me up to the hilt, making me scream once more.

  “Oh, Terrence,” I cry. Rita and all her mysteries forgotten for the moment, “It feels so good!”

  “Who needs a patron,” Terrence murmurs, “when you can get all this from me? I don’t need to be a fucking patron to get women to want me, do I, Staci? Every woman wants me. He pumps in and out of me, and I keep screaming. It’s never felt this good before. The fear, the danger, only makes me more aroused than ever before.

  “Did Virginia want you that way?” It’s hard to keep up this interrogation with his cock sliding in and out of me, thrusting me against the wall until I’m on the verge of coming so loud I’ll bring the whole Tower down.