by M. Leighton
After I lock up, I’m walking to my truck when I see a familiar car drive by. My older brother, Steven, gives me a nod as he passes. Even from this distance, I can see the concern in his black-as-damn-night eyes.
After Mom died when I was younger, Steven took on the role of second father to me and my other siblings, Scout and Sloane. For some reason, when Dad got all distant, his way of drowning in his grief I guess, Steven stepped up to keep an eye on the family. Maybe it was his personality to begin with. Maybe it was the way he reacted to Mom’s death. Maybe it was his age. Who the hell knows? I just know that from pretty much the day after she died, he’s had a stick permanently lodged in his ass.
I turn my head and keep my eyes on him as he goes, frowning in suspicion in case anyone is watching me. That’s what a criminal would do. It’s not uncommon for cops to cruise through areas like this, and with Tommi being Tonin’s girlfriend, I’m sure these streets get it more than others. But still, it was a helluva risk for Steven to take. I know why he did it. He can’t stand not being able to check on me. He’s a control freak that way and since he got promoted in his division, he’s even worse. Power went straight to his head. Thinks he’s gotta parent the shit out of the rest of us. He oughta know by now, though, that I don’t need parenting. I’ll have to remind him with a sucker punch to the nads as soon as I get this case closed up tight. Then he can buy me a beer while I tell him the awesome way I took down a drug lord.
The thought makes me smile. It’s been a lifelong practice of mine to give my brother as much shit as I can. It usually works out well for me. He’s easy to taunt and ruffle.
I take my truck the short drive to Tommi’s house and I park across the street.
From my position, I have a decent view into Tommi’s back yard. I see her take something out to the trash–maybe leftovers from dinner?–and then, about thirty minutes later, I watch her hang three sets of sheets on the line. Three. It reminds me of the woman in the back bedroom and the way Tommi takes care of her. And the toll it seems to take.
After she goes back inside, I wonder why she’d lie about something as simple as who lives with her. I stop thinking about it entirely, though, when I see her literally dragging Travis out into the yard. She’s tugging on his arm, a playful smile on her lips, saying something that I can’t hear.
She’s wearing shorts. Tiny black ones that make her hips look slim and her legs look long. They’re paired with a striped tank top that accentuates her lush tits in a way that only real tits can be accentuated. It’s the first time since that day on the highway that I’ve seen her dressed so casually, in regular people clothes. The rest of the time, she looks more glamorous. Stuffier. Maybe even a little uptight. Like she’s not quite comfortable in her own skin. Or her own clothes, I guess. Seems like she’s who Tonin wants her to be, whether that’s who she actually is or not.
Eventually, Travis stops resisting and moves on his own. He takes off his hoody as Tommi goes to get something from that little utility building out back. I actually see him smile when she returns with a Frisbee.
They throw it back and forth for a few minutes, Travis more half-heartedly than Tommi, before he finally gets into it. And when he does, they seem to have a lot of fun.
Tommi bites her lip and zings one at Travis as hard as she can, her whole upper body twisting with the effort. It takes off at an angle and Travis has to dive to catch it. Through my open window, I hear a happy, high-pitched tinkling sound–Tommi’s laugh. It’s light and carefree and…childlike. Almost like he’s her kid and she’s getting to spend some treasured time with him. It obviously pleases her to see Travis engaging, something that isn’t always easy for kids with Asperger’s if I remember right from my research.
Travis braces his feet and sends the red disc flying back toward Tommi. It goes high and long, and Tommi runs backward to keep her eye on it until it drops enough to catch. I see the water hose strung across the yard and I see her backing right for it. I actually lean up in my seat, like I might be able to catch her, when I see her foot tangle in it and her body pitch backward. With an expression of shock, I see her arms flail and hear her squeal as she goes down. She rolls over, ass-end up, and then flops back on the grass. For a few seconds, I feel a little bit alarmed, wondering if she hurt herself, but then she sits up. Her face is red, she’s laughing so hard. She throws her head back, exposing her long, graceful throat and I wish with everything I have that I could be back there with her, enjoying her this way. The way no one but Travis gets to see her. The natural way.
They play for almost another hour before she glances at her watch and tips her head toward the house. I’m guessing she’s gotta get ready for her date with the criminal. Or take care of the woman in the back bedroom, if she didn’t as soon as she got home. As she walks across the yard, putting a gentle hand to Travis’s shoulder as she falls in behind him, I can see the disappointment on her pretty face. This is what’s important to her–Travis. That much is obvious. So why, then, does she stay with Tonin?
I don’t find an answer, which tells me it must be complicated. Probably involving a lot of things that even I can’t find out. Unless she tells me. But she’ll have to trust me if she’s going to do that.
At five minutes until seven, a limo pulls up in the driveway. No one gets out until Tommi comes down the sidewalk, and then I don’t even pay any attention who it is that does. She’s all I see.
Her hair is in a loose braid that falls over one shoulder. It’s messy, like someone’s had their hands in it, pieces falling out around her face. Sexy as hell, and goes with her strapless little black dress to make her look downright edible. Shit!
The slinky material falls from the peaks of her nipples straight to mid-thigh. It’s loose, but I can still see her curves move beneath the sheath as she walks. It almost caresses her hips and ass, and I wonder again about whether she’s wearing underwear.
The idea is hot as hell, but then I think about her dressing this way for Tonin and I just get mad. She’s wasted on him. He doesn’t deserve a woman like her and I can’t for the life of me figure out what in the damn world she’s doing with him.
The driver (I finally make note of) opens the back door and I see an arm reach out to take Tommi’s hand. Tonin no doubt. I grit my teeth and try not to think about his hands touching her in the dark interior of that limo.
I follow the car as it pulls away from the curb. Part of me wants to go back home. I don’t need to see this shit. But part of me wants to go, wants to see her. It’s like a freak show. After kissing her, after seeing her with her brother, after watching her carry an unknowable weight around when she thinks no one is watching, I’m determined to figure out the reason she stays. Because I know she can’t possibly want to. But I need proof. I need to know that his touch makes her cringe. I need to know that she’s wishing she was anywhere else, anywhere but with him. I just hope to God I see some. Surely I can’t be wrong about her. Surely the way she cares for that woman…surely the way she cares for Travis…surely the way she responds to me, I can’t be wrong about her. Surely.
Tonin takes her to a swanky restaurant, one with a wait list that’s months long. Turns out money talks, no matter how dirty it is. The only way I can stay even remotely close is to sit at the bar. The pain in the ass part, though, is that I can’t even drink since I’m driving.
What I wouldn’t give to be able to slam back a couple of shots to take the edge off.
I don’t dwell on why I’m suddenly so angry. I just watch for Tommi.
When they finally make their exit at a few minutes after nine, I hurry out to my truck, parked in a restricted spot down the street. I fight the urge to crumple up the parking ticket that’s waiting for me on my windshield. Instead, I just stick it in my console to turn in to the department when all is said and done. They can pay it, dammit.
Next, I follow the couple to an exclusive club that’s pretty well known for it’s…loose reins on its patrons. I know there’s no way in hell I’m even getting th
rough the front door without a badge or a member to back me up, so I wait for Barber to get out of the black SUV that follows Tonin everywhere he goes before I approach.
“Can’t keep my eyes on her from out here, now can I?” I say with a crooked smile. Casual. Dedicated. Taking my job more seriously after his call today. That’s what I want him to think.
He stares at me with his bizarrely blank eyes–killer’s eyes, if I had to guess–before he nods once and turns to walk off. I follow him in, the two doormen, AKA high-end bouncers, nodding us in as we pass. I’m not surprised that Tonin and his goons are well known here.
The inside of the club is done up in black as far as the eye can see. The walls, the ceiling, the marble floor, the granite bar–everything, jet black. Even the stage, the focal point of the room, is black, and just as shiny as the shiny black pole in the center of it. There’s a dancer on it right now. She has red hair that reaches her ass and tits that look too big for her body. I’d much prefer the natural handful of Tommi’s to this woman’s. She’s pretty hot, just not what’s on my mind at the moment.
I watch her wrap one leg around the pole and grind against it as she rubs her nipples. I don’t know how, but she’s doing a great job of making stripping look classy. That’s probably a talent in and of itself. I doubt any of the girls one might find in here are common or trashy, though. Just expensive.
The stage is surrounded by deep-seated velvet chairs in black, each with a small, round table to the side, and there are several doors on two of the walls, as well as a balcony area up top. The glass is smoked, but not so much that I can’t see a pole coming from the ceiling up there, too. A private viewing room, I guess.
That’s when I see Tommi preceding Tonin through a door that opens onto steps that go up. I guess I know where she and Lance are going now.
I’m feeling pissy again when Barber lightly slaps my arm to get my attention. He motions toward the bar that wraps around the left side of the room. I nod and follow, sitting with him and two guys I’ve only seen once before, but haven’t been introduced to. Must be Tonin’s most trusted men. Like Barber, just lower.
I slide onto a stool and turn to watch the cocktail waitresses shake their ass across the room as they dart between tables. They’re wearing short, black, satin skirts and sequined tops that look like low-cut, sleeveless tuxedos. All of them are good-looking. Built like brick shithouses. Smell like expensive perfume instead of stale cigarette smoke. Nothing less than grade A pussy in this place, I’m sure.
Nothing but the best for Tonin.
Even I can hear the bitterness in the tone of my inner voice. That’s why, when Barber signals me for a drink, I order a shot of whiskey with my Coke.
My eyes continually stray to the balcony. It’s eating me up wondering what the hell is going on up there. I almost come out of my seat when I see a nice, naked ass get pressed up against the tinted glass in the balcony. It’s attached to a blonde head. I think my heart stops for a second when I see Tonin flatten his hands on either side of her head and kiss her. I can’t watch this shit! I just can’t do it.
But then I realize it’s not Tommi. Thank God! She’s not tall enough to be Tommi and her legs aren’t long enough. That only makes me feel a little better, though. I still don’t know what he’s putting her through up there. I just know that I feel like she needs me, like she needs saving. And not just tonight. Every night.
Four shots later, nothing seems to be able to take the edge off. I have to know what’s going on up there.
I tell Barber I’m going to the bathroom. After seeing several people going in one direction, I finally saw the muted male and female symbols above a short hallway right beside the stairs that lead up to the balcony. The stairs I need to sneak onto. I head that way, squelching the voice in the back of my mind that warns me that this is a bad idea. Yes, I’m supposed to get close to her, but it probably shouldn’t be eating me up like this because I can’t. The rational side of me says that I’m dangerously close to mixing business with pleasure. Every other side of me tells that side to go to hell.
I glance behind me to see if Barber’s watching. He’s not. He and the other two are eyeing a waitress that has stopped to talk to them. She’s all but sitting in Barber’s lap, which he doesn’t seem to be minding much. I turn back toward my objective.
After another quick glance behind me, rather than continuing on to the bathrooms, I open the door that leads upstairs and then jerk it shut behind me. In the darkness of the stairwell, as I look up to whatever might be waiting for me at the top, I realize I’m almost to the point of no return. I also realize that I don’t care. If I get caught, I’ll think of something, some excuse. I’m quick on my feet. You have to be to go under. I was born with the skill to do this and I’m not afraid to use it.
I still hear the music from the club; it’s just a little more muted. But now, I also hear laughing and moaning. It’s coming from upstairs. And it sets my teeth on edge.
I mount the steps, pausing at the top to look left and right. The stairs don’t dump directly into the balcony. There’s a small anteroom before it, and I can see another open doorway. It leads into a private bathroom. I can see the vanity mirror and sink.
The next song that comes on is sexy as hell, Don’t Tell ‘Em. Under different circumstances, I’d love to have this playing when I’m with Tommi. But not tonight. Not like this.
I ease around the rail that tops the steps and press against the wall to get a sidelong glance into the balcony room. My jaw drops open and hangs there, stunned wide.
There’s a stage up here as well. A smaller version of the one downstairs. And Tommi is on it. Her ass is pressed to the pole, back arched, eyes closed. Her fingers are threaded into the hair of a brunette. Looks like she’s licking one of Tommi’s nipples. Tonin is on a couch to the left of the stage, watching the show as the blonde who I must’ve seen from downstairs sucks his cock. His palm is on the back of her head, pumping it up and down, as he eyes Tommi and the other girl on the stage.
So this is what he likes. This is what he has her do for him. While I hate the thought of him seeing her, of him possibly making her do stuff like this against her will, I almost hope this is what gets him off, that he never lays a hand on her otherwise. Just watches other women do it. Maybe this is what she does to get what she needs from him, whatever that is. Because I know there’s something. Right now, Tonin is saving her from…something. But who’s going to save her from him? Or from herself?
I can’t stop my eyes from drifting back to the stage. The brunette is making her way down Tommi’s stomach, her hands plastered to the round ass that I so often admire. Tommi’s eyes are still closed, her body swaying slightly to the sensual tune, but not necessarily like she’s enjoying what’s happening. She looks to me like she’s checked out, like she’s somewhere else. Thinking of something else. I wonder again if this is what Tonin makes her do. Maybe it’s what she has to do to keep him from putting his dick in her. Hell, if that’s the case, I don’t blame her. I’d let a hot chick lick on me all day long if it saved me from Tonin. Of course, I’d let a hot chick lick on me all day anyway, but that’s not the point.
The brunette pulls Tommi’s lacy panties from one hip and I let my eyes wander back up a flat, golden stomach to pale-white, creamy breasts that are absolutely perfect in every way. They’re plump and high and topped with dusky pink nipples that are just the right size. At the moment, they’re hard as damn rocks, too.
My cock stirs in my jeans and I think to myself that I should go back downstairs. Tonin would be mad as hell if he found me up here creeping on his party, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Tommi. She’s the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her skin is flawless, her body exquisite. Every long, tall inch of it.
I pull my gaze away from her tits to find her face. Her eyes are open now. And focused on me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN- TOMMI
In my mind, Sig is so real. With the thump of the music drowning
out reality, I can feel his hands on my body, his mouth at my breast, his hair between my fingers. In my fantasy, in the quiet of my mind, I can be anywhere, with anybody. And I chose Sig. Whether I meant to or not, he’s on my mind more often than not lately.
Heat and moisture spread from my nipples down my stomach to my navel. Fingers tug at my panties and I want more than anything to lose myself to sensation. To him.
Only this isn’t real. Not what’s in my head. It’s just a dream, a foggy place where I go to escape whatever is happening to me. I’ve done it most of my life and it’s always worked. Until tonight. I know when I open my eyes, I won’t see Sig. I’ll be alone in a room full of people, in a room full of people who don’t even know me, who only want something from me that I don’t want to give.
Reluctantly, my lids drift up and lock onto a pair of eyes that look onyx in the shadows, eyes that I’ve been dreaming about since I first saw them sparkle in the sunshine. For a few seconds, I can’t be sure I’m not still in my dream world.
Is Sig really standing in the doorway, watching me? I don’t know.
His gaze devours me, delves into my soul, through the windows of my pupils. I can feel him touching me there, like I can feel his stare touching me everywhere else.
Like a caress, I watch his eyes fall to my lips. I wet them because they burn for him, for his kiss. I see his perusal skim my throat and chest and stray to my breasts. My nipples tingle into sharp points, aching for the man who stands across the room. My stomach muscles contract when the dark orbs tease them. And when they go lower, as though stripping me barer than I already am, I feel the gush of warmth between my legs.
I gasp, teetering between what’s real and what’s imagined. It’s when Sig’s eyes return to mine, blazing with a fire that singes my nerve ends, that I realize he’s here. He’s really here, standing in the doorway, watching as another woman touches me so that Lance can get off. What he doesn’t know is that his is the only touch that I crave–Sig’s.