AtHerCommand

by Marcia James

  Chapter Four

  Dalton stormed through the door to Jason’s house and slammed it shut. Ignoring Chi’s startled gaze, he stomped past the cat into the master bedroom, shedding garments in his wake. The session had been worse than he’d imagined and he needed to scrub away the feelings threatening to swamp him.

  Stalking into the bathroom, he turned on the shower, tore off the last of his clothes and stepped naked under the blistering hot water.

  His blue curses bounced off the shower doors as hot needles of water connected with his tender flesh. Quickly turning the water to warm, Dalton rubbed the soap over his bruised chest. God, had he really just knelt there and allowed that woman to put sharp-teethed alligator clips on his nipples?

  He closed his eyes as the scene played out in his mind. Mistress Bella had shown him the vicious-looking things and then placed the clamps on his chest. The sharp initial pain had lessened to a dull numbness after several minutes, lulling him into a false sense of security. But when she’d removed the little bastards, he’d gasped at the burning rush as feeling had returned to his abused nerve endings. Bella had simply smiled.

  Dalton wasn’t sure which had been worse, the pain she’d meted out or the humiliation. At one point, Bella had manacled his wrists behind his back using padded handcuffs. It was demoralizing for a cop to be handcuffed. Sure, she hadn’t known his true profession but Bella seemed to be a mind reader when determining the best ways to degrade him.

  Turning, Dalton let the water cascade down his back and winced as he glanced at his reflection in the mirrored shower doors. There were welts across his butt, compliments of Bella’s crop. The red marks fanned in a pattern that looked as though he’d backed his bare ass into a hot radiator. The woman had wielded the crop with surprising strength, but it was the shame not the pain of the brief whipping that had gotten to him. Okay, so Bella thought he wanted the S&M treatment—was paying big bucks for it in fact—but it galled him to submit to the beating and the mind games.

  Rubbing the soap over his striped skin and down his arms and legs, Dalton tried to decompress. Anger, embarrassment and disgust over the evening’s events warred with something he could barely admit even to himself. There’d been times during the session when he’d been incredibly turned on.

  Gently, Dalton soaped his punished penis. The Gates of Hell was aptly named. When Bella had approached him with the strange-looking metal-and-leather restraint, he’d recognized it from his research. It was a cock harness designed to maintain a man’s erection at a tormenting half-mast.

  He’d gritted his teeth as he’d waited for her to strap it on him. She’d denied him the small pleasure of her gloved hands on his cock however, by tossing him the bondage toy and instructing him on its use. Forcing his erection into the cold sheath with its ever-narrowing steel rings was a torture he never wanted to repeat.

  Flashbacks of Mistress Bella’s mocking smile and cruel humor played through his mind, tensing muscles he’d almost relaxed. Her leather-encased body had been mouthwatering and his cock throbbed to life at the vivid memory. Dalton squashed his thoughts but visions of her arrogant eyes slipped around his defenses. Despite the physical discomfort and humiliation he’d endured, Dalton felt himself harden within his soapy hand.

  Hell. What’s the matter with me? He was getting an erection just thinking about the woman. It had to be a byproduct of being aroused all evening without climaxing. No way would he find submitting exciting. No way. She just hadn’t allowed him the end-of-session orgasm Jason had raved about in his journal. According to Bella, he hadn’t earned it. Apparently his performance wasn’t submissive enough, Dalton thought, as he carefully fisted his cock.

  Dammit, someday he’d love a chance to show Bella just how well he could perform. Closing his eyes, he imagined carrying her to his bed, slowly stripping off that leather corset and thrusting deep into her tight, welcoming heat. She’d moan and arch under him as he sucked and nipped those magnificent breasts.

  When he took her lips and tasted that smart mouth of hers, she’d be intoxicating and spicy, like a good Chianti. And when she came, Bella would wrap those long, long legs around him and scream out his name…

  The orgasm slammed into Dalton, taking his breath with its force and duration. As the semen pulsed through his tender cock, Dalton remembered Bella’s promise to sensitize his body and take him to new heights of pleasure. She’d kept her word.

  For several long minutes, Dalton braced himself against the shower wall and let the warm water sluice over him. When his legs no longer trembled, he turned off the shower and toweled himself dry. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally—drained in every sense of the word.

  Without bothering to throw on his sweats, Dalton walked out of the bathroom and over to the bed. Gingerly, he lowered his bruised body onto the mattress, the cool sheets soothing his skin. As he lay back on the pillow, he forced his mind off thoughts of the intriguing dominatrix. Avenging Jason took precedence over everything and he needed a plan.

  Now that he’d been inside the Xecutive Branch, Dalton realized a customer would only have limited access to the place. Captain Bennett had been smart to place a cop undercover on the club’s staff. Would Suzi Cho agree to share her findings with him off-the-record, so to speak? She was a good cop, not a by-the-book pain in the butt. Suzi would see the benefits of working with him on this case without mentioning it to the captain. He’d talk to her about it in the morning, Dalton thought, as he drifted into the first deep sleep he’d had since Jason’s murder.

  * * * * *

  “Cho is a common Korean surname so it’ll be safe for you to go by Suzi Cho on this job,” Captain Bennett explained as he leaned forward in his chair to pass a fake driver’s license and several credit cards in that name across the interrogation room table to Detective Soon-Hee “Suzi” Cho.

  Familiar with the drill from her years with Metro PD, Suzi took the proffered items and waited for the captain to continue.

  “Besides,” he said, “since the nickname Suzi isn’t your legal first name, no one at the club will be able to break your cover if they check up on Suzi Cho. Your story is you’re a Korean national who married a Marine to get your visa and then divorced him when you got to D.C.”

  Suzi nodded, examining the picture on her fake license. They’d used the photo from her legitimate driver’s license, an unattractive shot that made her look sleepy and bored.

  “You couldn’t have used my academy photo?” she joked. “The point of this is for me to get a job at the club, right? Not to scare small children.”

  “Fishing for compliments, Cho?” Bennett ribbed her.

  “You don’t have to be vain to hate your driver’s license photo. Well, at least my cover’s pretty simple.” A first-generation Korean-American, Suzi knew enough of her parents’ native language and culture to be believable in the role.

  “The Xecutive Branch employs quite a few female foreign nationals,” her boss continued, “so the divorced Suzi Cho should fit their job requirements.”

  “I’m not too worried about the job interview, sir.” Her easygoing façade faltered. “It’s my lack of experience as a masseuse that concerns me.”

  “‘Technician’, Suzi, not ‘masseuse’.” Bennett’s lips twitched. “The club has euphemisms for everything.”

  “Okay, ‘technician’, but the job description is the same.” Suzi sat straighter in her chair. How could she communicate her misgivings without appearing unhappy about the assignment? “The only massage I know is the basic therapeutic massage I learned when I was in rehab last year.”

  “We’ve got that handled.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “In fact, she should be arriving any minute.”

  “Who?”

  Bennett grinned. It was the first real smile she’d seen on his face since he’d gotten word of Jason’s murder.

  “Your consultant.” He stood and walked to the door of the interrogation room. “When you need to learn the tricks of a trade, i
t pays to hire a professional.”

  A trickle of apprehension ambled down her spine as Bennett left the room. Suzi wasn’t looking forward to learning the tricks of this trade, no matter who taught her. But she’d do whatever was necessary to get Jason’s killers.

  Suzi closed her eyes against the well of tears. He’d been her mentor and her friend. And during that riot two years ago, Jason had been her lifesaver. Pushing back her chair, Suzi stood, feeling the stiffness in her right leg. She didn’t like to think about the riot, about the sniper who’d pumped a bullet into her leg, shattering the bone. Pacing, she worked the kinks out of her creaky limb.

  God, she’d been so vulnerable, lying in the street waiting for him to finish her. Before the sniper could fire the killing shot however, Jason had raced to her under the cover provided by Dalton’s assault rifle and carried her back behind the barriers. While his partner had kept the sniper busy, Jason had packed the wound and carried her through a guarded building to a waiting ambulance. Suzi owed Jason her life.

  She heard footsteps in the hall and turned to face the door. A woman entered, followed by Captain Bennett. Suzi examined the newcomer who’d been hired to teach her the ropes.

  Tall, thin and thirty-something, the woman dressed like an accountant in a staid navy suit and low-heeled pumps. She wore a minimum of makeup and had twisted her hair into a conservative French braid. Her perfume was delicate, understated. Yet there was something about her eyes that sparkled behind wire-rim glasses…

  “Lola?” Suzi immediately regretted her obvious disbelief.

  “It’s Lotty now, Suzi. Lotty Landers.” The woman grinned as she stepped forward to shake Suzi’s hand. “Lola was my working-girl handle. Sounded more exotic.”

  “Lotty acts as a consultant for the Metro PD these days.” Bennett waved them into seats around the table.

  Lotty placed her oversized and bulging briefcase on the tabletop and settled into the chair at the end of the table. It was a position of power in the room, the one usually chosen by a cop during interrogations. Suzi grinned. It was no accident Lotty had picked that chair. The woman was familiar with the room’s dynamics and sparse furnishings, having been arrested regularly in her former profession.

  “Yep, I’m reformed, transformed and incorporated.” The ex-prostitute’s eyes twinkled. “It’s great. I get to work with my favorite cops and charge the same hourly rate I did on the streets.”

  Suzi laughed along with Lotty. The irony of the situation was delicious.

  “It’s good to know the cop shop cares enough to hire the very best.” Suzi held up her hands for Lotty to see. “The sooner you can turn these fumble fingers into magic fingers, the sooner I can infiltrate the Xecutive Branch.”

  Lotty took her hands, turned them over and examined them.

  “What? Are you a palm reader too?” Suzi asked.

  The sex consultant smiled. “No, that’s one scam I’ve never tried. But I can tell you have strong hands, which will be a plus in this job.”

  “For the massage part of the job or for the knocking-the-creeps-senseless part?” Suzi said only half joking.

  Lotty winked. “I can show you a couple of alternatives to punching out your customers. Ready to get started?”

  Suzi took a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  In a synchronized motion, both Suzi and Lotty turned their heads and shot Captain Bennett a look. After a moment, he seemed to get the hint.

  “I’ll just leave you two to get on with things.” Bennett rose from his seat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  When the door closed behind him, Lotty turned back to Suzi. “Listen, I’m sure you’re antsy about doing the things these sex massagers do but there’re ways for the johns to get their money’s worth without you having to put out in any way. Okay?”

  Suzi let out the breath she was holding and nodded.

  “You’ve just got to be a little creative, is all,” Lotty continued. “And I’ve brought you the tools you’ll need.”

  The sex consultant opened her large briefcase and removed several DVDs. She slid them across the table to Suzi.

  “These will help you with the basics—Shiatsu massage, acupressure…” Lotty explained.

  “I’d rather use acupuncture, maybe with a steak knife,” Suzi mumbled.

  The consultant laughed. “Pulling a Lorena Bobbit on some john won’t get you Employee of the Month.”

  “All right, I’ll study them.” Suzi set the DVDs next to her on the table.

  Lotty pointed to one of the DVDs. “This one’s on the form of deep-muscle massage used in Rolfing.”

  “Throwing up?” Suzi was horrified.

  “No.” Lotty chuckled. “Rolfing, not ralphing. It’s a type of psychotherapy combining massage with psychoanalysis.”

  “So now I’m supposed to be a shrink for these guys as well as their masseuse?”

  “No, but anything that gets them talking is a good thing,” Lotty assured her. “You’d be surprised how many johns want to talk more than they want sexual satisfaction. So this DVD will give you some pointers about drawing them out.”

  Suzi ran her finger over the cover of the DVD and then met Lotty’s eyes. “What if the customers want, you know, more than a straight massage and a chat?”

  “The lingo in the biz is a massage with a ‘happy ending’ or a ‘happy release’. That’s when the guy wants to get off at the end of the session.”

  Suzi shuddered. Although in her mid-twenties, she’d had only one serious relationship in her life—a college affair that had ended miserably. She wasn’t jaded or even particularly adept when it came to sex. In fact, she jokingly referred to herself as a born-again virgin since she was abstaining from recreational intercourse. Despite what her friends were up to, Suzi planned to hold out for love this time around.

  “If the johns want more than a massage, it’s time to employ some tricks,” Lotty said. “And you can always work the fact that you’re Asian too.”

  “Why do I feel a politically incorrect statement coming on?” Suzi rolled her eyes.

  “Listen, if you don’t want to get down and dirty with these guys, you’ll need to work all the angles you’ve got,” Lotty insisted. “And being Asian makes you mysterious, which lots of guys love. You can talk them into trying different things just by claiming to know ancient sex techniques.”

  “Please don’t tell me I have to dress like a geisha.” Suzi groaned. Would she lose her street credibility if she repeatedly banged her forehead on the table?

  “Only if you want to.” Lotty chuckled. “If you use Japanese methods, you can even walk on their backs.”

  “Can I wear spike heels?” Suzi knew her wisecracking increased in direct proportion to her nerves but she couldn’t seem to shut her mouth.

  Lotty didn’t answer. Instead she reached into her briefcase and withdrew a wholesale catalogue. Placing it on the table between them, she flipped to the first of several marked pages. The item featured was an expensive, computerized massage mat that, according to the sales text, provided a full-body massage plus heat.

  “I got the scoop on the club’s state-of-the-art toys from a friend who worked there last year,” the sex consultant said. “They have every toy and gadget made. This is only one of the massage products you can use in your assigned room. You just have to get it from the supply cabinet.”

  Suzi examined the page closely. This mat, when placed on top of the massage table and under the customer, could almost make the masseuse obsolete.

  “With this baby under the john,” Lotty continued, “all you’d have to do is a little acupressure work on the temples or a little kneading on the shoulders. Unless they ask for more personal attention, that is.”

  Again the consultant reached into the briefcase and brought out a second catalogue, a full-color directory of sex toys. Lotty turned to a marked page and pointed to an item she’d circled. Suzi gulped when she looked at the hollow, flesh-colored, rocket-shaped o
bject.

  “This is a male vibrator,” Lotty explained. “You place it over their—”

  “I get the picture,” Suzi interrupted, feeling green.

  “Well, the Xecutive Branch has a stockroom full of toys like this so you never have to touch the john’s johnson.” Lotty pushed the two catalogues over to Suzi. “Check these out to see what props you can use. Setting the scene is a big part of the game, you see.”

  Suzi flipped through the earmarked pages, examining the variety of massage props and toys, from a vibrator that strapped on the masseuse’s hand to aromatherapy masks to help relax facial muscles. Maybe with the help of these items, she wouldn’t have to get too personal with the customers.

  “I’ve brought a few things.” Lotty opened her briefcase again. “I want you to have some hands-on practice.”

  Her pulse stuttered. Did Lotty intend to call in one of the cops for a practice massage? Suzi had been careful to maintain a “good buddy” relationship with her fellow police officers, turning down the occasional request for a date. But the professional distance she’d developed wouldn’t stand up to her practicing happy endings on some horny Metro PD detective.

  Lotty placed several vibrating toys on the table and then pulled a flesh-toned, pillowy object out of her briefcase. Before Suzi’s startled eyes, the woman proceeded to blow up the item until it expanded into a full-size, anatomically correct male sex doll.

  “Good lungs and a strong mouth were important in my former profession,” Lotty joked.

  The sex consultant moved to stand by Suzi and arranged the doll on the table so its oversized, rubber manhood protruded within easy reach. Then she picked up a toy that resembled a pair of woman’s lips with a pouch attached. A wire ran from the pouch to a hand control.

  “This is another style of male vibrator,” Lotty explained.