Playette

by T. L Smith

  I smile at him, tapping his shoulder as I walk back in.

  I’m not dreaming him, of that I’m certain.

  “Pretty thing.” My feet pause as I enter to the loud thumping music. Hands grab and pick me up. Ace chuckles and places me back on the floor. His dark brown eyes stare me down. “Where’ve you been? You were meant to come to mine.”

  I check around and see it’s just him tonight. This could be a good thing. I place my hand on his shoulder, pressing my lips together, the ones that were just kissed by a complete stranger. One who, for some reason, makes my girl parts sing.

  “And how was I meant to get there?” I ask, in the sweetest voice I can muster.

  Ace lets me go and scratches his chin looking me over. “That’s a good point, pretty. But now I’m here, all your problems are solved.”

  “Just like that?” I ask playing with him while toying with my pink hair.

  “Yes, pretty. I have magical hands which you will soon learn. So, let’s go.” He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder again. “Benny,” he yells out. “I’m taking your best girl with me. Be sure to pay her for a full night.”

  “She has commitments,” Benny replies in a fucked off voice.

  “That’s all right, Benny. You’ll take care of it. Won’t you?”

  Benny grunts. “Sure.”

  “See, pretty thing, I got you,” he states as he carries me to the door.

  I notice Sharon waiting at the bar watching us. “Can you grab my bag?”

  Sharon nods and runs off, and when she comes back I’m standing at the door of the car. She looks past me into the car where Ace is sitting. “Can I come?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “You don’t even like me,” I say to her. I look down at Ace who’s smiling. “Mind if we bring company? She can dance,” I say thinking she could be the perfect distraction so I can easily slip out and do what I did last time.

  Ace looks up at her. “Yes, my boys love fresh meat.”

  She doesn’t bother going back inside to get her things, she simply climbs into the car squishing me into Ace.

  “You guys own the club, right?”

  Ace looks over me to Sharon. “In a manner of speaking, yes,” he answers. His hand slides on my thigh then pulls up my skirt, his hands are gentle at least.

  Sharon watches, her eyes are hungry.

  “Do you want him to touch you, Sharon?”

  She looks away from my leg to Ace. Sharon’s wearing a little dress. Her tits are as fabulous as ever, and are seen through the sheer fabric. Her nipples are hard.

  “Yes.”

  Ace grabs my face and turns my head to face him. He kisses my lips, hard. I get over the shock fast as his lips start moving. He isn’t a bad kisser, but he isn’t a great kisser either. His lips are smashed against mine, and there’s no tenderness in his kiss at all. I’ve been kissed by a lot of frogs, I’ve slept with a lot of men. And I knew my sex appeal would be what would get me into the place with these men, and I was right.

  Sex and me, we’re old friends.

  And I love it.

  The power you can hold over a man. The control you can gain if you use it correctly. You can make a man, a powerful man, blind to everything around him if you choose to and do it right.

  And I choose to.

  Opening my eyes, I see Ace’s are already open and staring at Sharon as he kisses me. I pull away, lean over her and bend so my ass is in his face. Sharon slides over to my position as Ace’s hand grabs my ass.

  “Fuck.”

  She doesn’t waste any time kissing him as the car comes to a stop. I’m the first to exit taking my bag with me as I slide out. Walking around to their side, I wait until they get out.

  Sharon has a look of pure excitement written all over her face. How? Well, I don’t even understand. Even if I wasn’t trying to get into this place to kill every last one of them, I would never choose to come here.

  A gunshot rings out and Sharon jumps. My eyes go to where the sound came from and Ace chuckles.

  “I’ll keep you safe. The only big bad you need to watch out for is me.”

  I giggle as I slide my arm through his. We walk inside and he guides us to the staircase that leads up. When we pass the first door my palms begin to get sweaty, and when we reach the second door he stops, reading the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign.

  “Ace, you aren’t stealing our company for the night, now, are you?”

  Turning around to a perfect smile being pushed our way, I see Carter leaning against the wall. Ace flicks the door open anyway and nods for us to enter. It’s damn dark. So, Sharon reaches for the light and flicks it on, and then she screams so loudly my ears ring as I stand there trying to hide my smile.

  “What on earth, woman,” Carter says looking to Ace. “You bring a broken one?”

  Walking into the room, pushing Ace and I backward, Carter says one simple word, “Fuck.”

  Ace steps in, and I follow closely behind so I can see. There the fucker is, lying on the bed, eyes wide open, not breathing. No one knew he was there for a good twenty-four hours. Enough time for the drug to kick in and kill him. He had no chance. Carter runs over, his hand goes to his chest, but we all know before he even starts CPR that he’s dead.

  No one who’s alive looks like that—gray pasty skin, mouth hanging open, death stare, and a smell that is acrid to my senses.

  “Ben. Come on, man,” Carter says pushing again.

  “Who’s that?” I ask Ace, and I’m more than a little surprised when he answers.

  “That’s his brother,” Ace replies.

  Carter tries furiously pushing on Mack’s chest. I can see it now, the resemblance. Granted Carter’s way better looking, but as he tries to revive his extremely dead brother, I don’t feel a touch of guilt or an ounce of sympathy and definitely no remorse. I’ve done the world a favor by taking him off this planet.

  “You girls best wait downstairs, the boss won’t be happy about this.”

  I reach for a frozen Sharon and pull on her arm, so she turns, but she falls and trips, her hands landing on the broken glass from the night before when Mack threw the bottle. Blood begins to seep from the cuts in her hands and Ace swears. He looks at me, all lust gone now from his dark brown eyes. “Clean her the fuck up…” he pauses, “… downstairs.”

  I pull her up and out and he shuts the door. Sharon looks at her bleeding hands shaking her head, but she really doesn’t seem to be all there at the moment. “This is bad.” It’s all she says as tears start leaving her eyes and run down her cheeks. I wipe them away feeling somewhat responsible for this mess she’s found herself in.

  “I’ll bandage them up. It’ll be fine.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it won’t. I need them to dance. How am I meant to dance the pole with injured hands?”

  I look at them, and notice they’re bleeding heavily now and probably need stitching. We reach the bottom step, and I pull her into the kitchen. Wrapping a cloth I find folded on the bench around her hand, I position her on the counter. “Wait here, while I try to find something else.” Before I can walk away, another girl steps in holding a first aid kit, and hands it to me. She’s young, actually younger than Heather.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  She looks to Sharon’s hands and shakes her head. “What happened up there?” she asks, her head nodding to the stairs we just came down from.

  “Some guy’s dead up there, on the bed,” Sharon says.

  “Mack?” she asks.

  I nod my head.

  She smiles.

  There’s no sadness in her eyes at all, if anything I think she’s happy about it.

  “Good. He was mean. So mean.” She looks at her wrists, and I see bruises there.

  “What did he do to you?” I ask.

  She glances back over her shoulder. “He did it to all the girls. The animal likes forceful sex.” She shivers as the words leave her mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She l
ooks down and I look away trying not to catch her eyes again so she will be able to compose herself. Opening the kit, I start fixing Sharon’s hands.

  “Who’s the boss?” Sharon asks.

  The little thing perks up at that. “That’s Jasper. He doesn’t play all the time like the boys do, though. He’s more…” she pauses lost in thought, “… serious.”

  “Are they mafia?” Sharon tries to whisper, but it’s barely a whisper considering we all hear her.

  “They are.”

  I smile already knowing this—the Italian Mafia to be exact. Some may look sweet, but they will kill you if you cross them, sometimes for even just looking at them. They’re anything but damn sweet.

  “Are we safe to be here?” Sharon whispers again while looking around.

  “Tell me more about Jasper? Where is he?” I ask, ignoring Sharon’s words.

  The young girl looks me up and down. “You should go and not look back.” She walks away leaving us, and Sharon grabs my hand. “I want to leave, please,” she begs.

  I nod, walking her out.

  6

  Isadora

  “We shouldn’t have gone there,” Sharon says, looking at her hands and then back to me.

  “No. You shouldn’t have…” I pause. “Now, I have to go home,” I say.

  “You’re not making any sense. What are you up to?”

  I turn to look at her, her long blonde hair doesn’t match my brown hair, which is covered by my pink wig. I decide not to answer her. I shouldn’t have brought her, I don’t even like her. Guess she was there to play a part, that part being so I could gain access to the men while she was a distraction. It didn’t work tonight.

  As we arrive at the club, I usher her out. She walks inside while I pay the driver who leaves me where I stand. I could go inside and keep working, I guess, but now I’ll have to figure out how I’m getting back to that place to mark my next kill.

  “So pretty in pink.” His voice startles me.

  I jump on the spot. “No smoke tonight?”

  He bites his lip as he looks me over, the scar stretches and he smirks at me. His chocolate hair is styled to perfection and tonight he’s wearing jeans with a black shirt. He looks good, real good. My eyes search around and I see his black car sitting not far from the club’s entrance.

  “Why do you come here?” I ask, stepping closer. He does as well. His smirk not leaving his face, while his hands don’t leave his pockets either.

  “So, can I kiss you?”

  My heart rate picks up. I nod back to the club. “You could go in there with the right amount of cash, and have any of them kiss you.”

  “Including you?” he dares ask me.

  “No. I don’t kiss for money.”

  “But, would you do other things?” he asks, his head dropping to the side with the innuendo.

  “No,” I answer truthfully.

  I’m in this business for one reason and one reason only—to get to them.

  “Such a shame, really. Such a shame.” He shakes his head and starts walking backward to his car. “Would you like to come with me?” He opens the door.

  I look at it and shake my head. “No woman should get in a car with a stranger,” I reply, but with a smile.

  He taps his chin with his finger. “Then, why did you?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask.

  “You got in the car with them, I saw you. So, why did you?”

  “How do you know I don’t know them?”

  “Do you?” he challenges.

  “No,” I answer truthfully.

  “Well, why won’t you get in mine?”

  “Agendas,” I say, smiling.

  “So, you have an agenda to get into theirs, but you don’t mine?” That smirk is back again.

  “What do you want from me?”

  His eyes travel the length of me. “What can you give?”

  I smile back at him. “Nothing. Now, goodnight, stalking stranger.”

  “At least leave me with a parting kiss?” he says loud enough for me to stop in my tracks. “I can still taste you, Issy. Can you taste me?”

  I spin around to face him. “How do you know my name?”

  He smirks. “Does that matter?”

  I nod my head. “Of course it does.”

  “Kiss me, and I will tell you.”

  “A kiss?” I ask, confused. “And you will tell me how you know my name?” I question with a laugh. “No, thanks.” I turn to walk away again.

  “If that is your will, then I bid you a goodnight, Isadora.”

  Now that shit makes me stop, spin around to face him and take notice.

  No one knows that name not even Benny calls me that. He knows my full name, but he also knows I prefer to be called Issy, and therefore my full name has never been mentioned.

  “A kiss, and you will tell me how you know?” I ask him in disbelief.

  “A kiss. Yes.”

  I walk back and when I reach him he looks at me waiting to see what I’ll do. He’s so close now I can smell him. He smells so good, like a man that knows he has it all. He smells of the ocean and damn hard work.

  Before I can open my mouth, he reaches for me again and places his lips on mine, his hand holding my head in place as his tongue seeks permission to enter.

  I’m letting a stranger kiss me, and I like it.

  I like it, a lot.

  His hand holds my pink hair in place, if he tugs on it, it will come away from my head. He doesn’t, though. His other hand grips my hip and pulls me to him, so our bodies are touching.

  He’s…

  He’s…

  Fuck.

  He’s perfect.

  I pull away putting some distance between us, I need to breathe and having him that close doesn’t allow me to breathe at all.

  “Now, tell me?” I ask, catching my breath.

  “No.” My eyes go wide. “You didn’t give me that kiss, I took it. The kiss I want to give you is not on those lips.” His eyes travel down my legs and stops at my pussy, while his tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip like he’s a starving man.

  A laugh bubbles up from inside me. “You’re insane,” I say, shaking my head.

  In one step he’s back on me again, his lips hard this time as they touch mine. He pushes me back until I reach the wall, and his hands explore my thigh and he pushes up to my pussy under my skirt. He rubs his hand on the outside, making me moan into his mouth before he goes to move my G-string.

  When he does, I push on his chest hard and he backs away with a smirk on his face.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can smell you, and I know you want it.” He sniffs his fingers and I shake my head.

  The door to the club opens and Benny steps out, seeing me first.

  “Good, you’re back. What the hell happ—” He pauses and looks directly at my stranger. Benny’s back straightens and his head drops just a touch. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were out here. I just came to speak to Issy.” My stranger watches me for a reaction. I look down at his hand and see the red skull.

  Fuck!

  How the hell did I not see that before?

  How could I not have noticed he had the marking?

  “Isadora, seems you have your answer.”

  I blanch. Looking back to Benny, he steps back, turns, and goes inside shutting the door.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, hoping he won’t say what I think he’s going to.

  “Jasper.”

  Fuck!

  Fuck!

  Fuckidy fuck.

  He’s their leader—the one in charge of the Moretti Mafia.

  I pale at his words.

  “So, now you know who I am?”

  I don’t know exactly who he is as a person, but what I do know is that he’s nothing good. And he’s my biggest target.

  “You can come back to mine,” I say in an attempt to make my voice sound neutral.

  “You either have a thing for power, or you have an agenda, Isadora. Which
one is it?” He steps closer to me again. I place my hand on his chest, careful to not let it shake so he notices.

  “You owe me a kiss, do you not?” I say with as much seduction as I can muster.

  “I suppose you’re right.” He reaches for my hand and wraps his fingers through mine. If I kill him, the power will be knocked down. I may have more of a chance with the others. This asshole, he’s the one I want the most.

  It’s been ten years since my parents were murdered. And right now, I’m taking one of their killers to my apartment. This could be stupid, or I could get lucky. Either way, it’s a chance I can’t pass up.

  Even if he is a killer.

  “Isadora.”

  I don’t live far, and once we pull up out the front, he waits for me open the door before he comes inside. He looks around, there’s nothing personal here. It’s just clothes, and more clothes and shoes littered across the carpet. It’s the way I need to keep it. So, when someone comes to clean up my mess after they kill me, they won’t have to worry about the poor girl with the photographs on the wall, or about the family that loved her. No, they won’t have to deal with any of that.

  Just clothes and shoes.

  “Do I call you, Jasper?” I ask.

  “You’re a bit of a playette, aren’t you?”

  I relish in the name.

  I wasn’t a slut, but I didn’t hold any attachments to any of the men I took to bed with me. And I have no love or even like to give anyone.

  My world was torn open and everything seeped out of me—compassion, love, sympathy, pity, kindness, all of it. All out there for the world to see my pain, so why would I let them take anything else from me. My body’s mine, and mine alone, to play with as I like, to do with as I please.

  I first slept with someone when I was fifteen and it damn well hurt. A lot. It sucked. It was disturbing and I was affected for a while. But then the second time—I liked it, a lot.

  Looking up at Jasper, I wonder how many women he’s had at his beck and call. I bet he’s slept with hundreds of women in his lifetime.

  He takes a seat, kicks his feet up on the table and sits back with his fingers interlinked behind his head. “Why don’t you strip for me, Isadora.”