Dream Girl

Chapter Fourteen

A black leather bustier plumped Ashlyn's breasts up and out, and a miniscule pair of black leather shorts exposed sleek legs made even longer by spike-heeled sandals.

"Jesus Christ,” Zach said under his breath as he nearly went into cardiac arrest. He glanced over at the other man and saw the look on his face. This guy, whoever he was, was hot for Ashlyn, too.

Zach's eyes returned to her. He wanted to throw a blanket over her.

She stopped in the hall, her mouth a round O of astonishment.

"Zach!” She let out a breathless little laugh. “What are you doing here?"

He wasn't sure if he actually had the ability to speak; he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before words came out. “I just stopped by to see you. I wanted to see you."

"Uh. Well ... um..."

"Where are you going, Ashlyn?” he asked softly, regaining his wits somewhat.

She looked at him in silence, clearly debating what to say. “Work?” she said weakly.

He shook his head. “You apparently have a job you haven't told me about."

He felt pressure building inside him. What the hell was going on here?

"It's not what you think."

"Maybe you could tell me what it is, then,” he suggested, his voice very soft, very controlled.

The other guy just stood watching all this, and Zach glared at him. He glared back.

Ashlyn noticed. “Uh. Zach, this is my roommate, Ben. Ben, this is Zach.” She waved a hand.

"I figured,” Ben said darkly, making no move to shake hands.

Oh. Roommate. Okay, so she had a male roommate. That was no big deal. Except this Ben looked pretty possessive of her.

"Come to my room,” Ashlyn said with resignation.

Zach followed her down the hall and into her bedroom. It was neat and tidy, except for a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner. A plain blue comforter covered the twin bed, and a desk with computer equipment occupied one whole wall. That kind of boggled his mind.

He shook his head and turned to her.

Blood pooled in his groin as he looked at her. The bustier pushed up her full, plump breasts, to the point that he was amazed her nipples weren't popping out. He dragged his eyes from her chest down to those legs. Sweet Jesus, her butt cheeks were showing, the shorts were so tiny.

Her hair hung silky and straight. But her face—holy shit. She had all this dark stuff around her eyes that made her look a little slutty, and her shiny red lips looked ready to be fucked.

"You have a job as a hooker?” he asked sharply, angry at the arousal he felt looking at her.

"Zach,” she said calmly. “Of course not."

"Then what the hell?” he asked, gesturing. “Or are you going out on a date?"

"Zach.” She sighed. “Okay, here's the deal.” She paused again. He could literally see her mind working, and then she gave another long exhalation. “I work as a ... um ... honey trapper.” He looked at her blankly. “A sex decoy,” she continued, licking her lips.

"What!” His mind was boggled.

"I work for my dad. One of the services Farrell Investigations offers is fidelity checks. Wives who think their husbands could be cheating on them hire us. I go and meet up with the guy somewhere, like it's by accident, and see if he comes on to me."

He stared at her incredulously.

She bit her lip. “I don't do anything,” she quickly assured him. “I just see if they try something. I tape it and give a report to the wife."

"It sounds dangerous,” he said slowly. “What if he tries something and you can't ... stop him."

"I always can,” she said confidently. “I'm always in a public place, and I make sure the office and Ben and Doug know exactly where I am."

"Ben and Doug?"

"My roommates."

"You have two male roommates?” he nearly shouted. “You never mentioned that."

"I didn't?” She blinked. “I guess I never thought it was worth mentioning.” She waved a hand. “It's no big deal. It's just Ben and Doug. Ben and I have been friends since middle school, and Doug is a friend of his from work."

"Ha,” he said. “Ben is nuts about you."

Her mouth dropped open. “He is not!"

"Oh, yeah, he is. But getting back to this job ... your dad knows about this?"

She laughed. “Of course! He hates it, but he gets lots of business. There are three of us that do this. And, I'm pretty good at it."

"Well, yeah, I guess so. Look at you.” He gestured. “What guy could resist? It is kind of not fair. Especially if you dress like that. Jesus."

Her cheeks grew a little pink, and she looked down at herself. “Oh. Well, I don't usually dress like this. Tonight, the guy I'm meeting up with supposedly hangs out at this fetish club. His wife wants to know if he does, and what he does there."

"Jesus,” he said again, almost stunned speechless. “You're going to some kink club? All alone? Dressed like that?"

She nodded, like she thought nothing of it. Her eyes were a little wary, though.

"Uh-uh,” Zach said firmly, shaking his head. “You are not going there."

"Zach, it's my job,” she said, just as firm. “I have to go."

"I'll go with you, then."

"You can't! I can't show up with a guy! I have to be alone!"

"I'll just watch from a distance. Just to make sure you're safe."

She sighed with exasperation. “I'll be safe,” she said. “Besides, you can't get in unless you dress appropriately."

He raised a brow, and she hastened to explain. “I mean, there's a dress code. I guess they don't want people just walking in off the street to gawk at all the pervs."

He groaned and rubbed his face. “We'll see,” he said. “But I'm coming."

Ashlyn and Zach stared stubbornly at each other for a long moment. “Oh, all right,” she groused. “But you have to stay away from me. Seriously."

He nodded and put a hand on the small of her back as they left her room.

Ben sat in the living room, still glowering as he flipped the pages of a Maxim.

"Zach's coming with me,” she announced, a little sulkily. “But just in case, the address is on my desk."

"He hates my guts,” Zach commented as he started his vehicle.

"Oh, he does not. That's ridiculous."

She apparently had no idea how Ben felt about her. Maybe that was just as well. Things could get a little uncomfortable, living together. He decided not to pursue that topic right then.

She told him the address, and a while later they pulled up outside an old warehouse downtown, a three-story brick building that could have been a brewery—except for the small neon sign in a dark window that said “Klub Kink."

They walked into a dimly-lit foyer, where a man sat at an antique desk. He was big, with a shaved bald head and an expressionless face.

He eyed Zach. “No admission unless you comply with the dress code,” he said sternly.

Zach sighed. “What is the dress code?"

The man handed him a sheet of paper with a lengthy list. “No street clothes. Rubber, leather, PVC, transparent, full uniform or totally over-the-top. Absolutely no fabric trousers or street wear,” he read.

The man jerked his head to a door on the right that said, “Men.” “Strip down to your underwear,” he said. “You can change in there."

Zach hesitated only briefly. Underwear. Well, hell. But then he'd never been afraid to make a fool of himself.

"Wait here,” he growled at Ashlyn.

The room resembled a plush locker room. He stripped down, keeping on his leather flip-flops and snug black boxer briefs. He stood there with his wallet in his hand. What the hell was he supposed to do with it?

He took it with him, hoping Ashlyn could put it in her purse.

She eyed him up and down when he came out, and he grinned. He pulled the price of two admissions out of his wallet.

"I already paid for me,” she whispered. “It's a ... business expense."

He paid for himself and handed her his wallet. She smiled and shoved it into her purse.

The doorman stood and opened a heavy, carved wooden door just to the left of his desk to admit them.

They walked into a crowded, dimly-lit bar, techno-pop music blasting, lights flashing.

"I'll find you later,” Ashlyn yelled in his ear before she headed to the bar.

Zach gazed around, amazed at the getups people wore. A tall, muscular guy wore a g-string, garter belt and stockings. One woman's outfit consisted of a bra made of silver chains circling her bare breasts and similar chains on her hips. He swallowed hard.

He decided to wander around. Ashlyn was at the bar getting a drink. Not a bad idea, but he'd wait.

Signs directed him to “The Playpen,” the “Dom Room,” and the “Torture Chamber.” Whoa. If Ashlyn headed to the Torture Chamber, no effin’ way was he staying away.

He watched Ash get her drink, glance his way, and then start mingling through the crowd. He approached the bar and found a seat where he could survey the room. As he sipped his beer, flashing colored strobe lights illuminated partiers writhing and bouncing on the dance floor, all in various states of undress.

This was nuts. But everyone seemed to be having such a good time, it was hard to think it was all depraved. He noticed a man and woman making out on a couch. Things progressed—including, much to Zach's dismay, his hard-on—until a discreet bouncer hustled the couple out. Zach recalled the paper with the dress code also saying, “no sex except in designated rooms."

He couldn't help but be curious, so he went out the door through which the couple had been led. Doors with signs opened off a wide, artfully-lit corridor. The couple disappeared into the Playpen, so with a shrug, Zach followed.

Couples in various combinations of male and female were engaged in numerous stages of sex. His eyes widened. Holy shit.

"Looking for a partner, gorgeous?"

He turned to the woman. She was statuesque, dark-haired, actually kind of attractive in a French maid outfit that hid little.

"No thanks,” he muttered.

"Ah.” She winked knowingly. “You're into voyeurism."

"No!” he exclaimed forcefully, but she'd disappeared.

Well, voyeurism was relatively harmless.

Unable to drag his eyes away, Zach watched. And against his will, became even more turned-on.

He realized he'd better find Ashlyn. Some job he was doing keeping an eye on her. He was a pervert.

He went back to the bar but after fifteen minutes of looking, he realized she wasn't there. She must have gone to one of the other rooms. He went back to the hall and pushed the first door he came to. It was the Torture Chamber.

Okay, now this was sick.

There were people handcuffed, chained, being spanked and whipped. There were fewer people so it was easy to see Ashlyn wasn't there—thank Christ—so he left.

Next was the Dom Room. Peering into the dim light, he saw similar scenarios as the Torture Chamber, but not quite as severe. He watched one woman receive a sexy spanking from her partner, both of them obviously excited and enjoying it. The woman's ass glowed pink and she was panting. He clearly wasn't really hurting her.

Another man had a woman bent over some kind of cushioned table, her hands above her head in fur handcuffs while the man took her from behind. Her face, turned to the side, reflected her ecstasy.

Zach gulped and left the room. He must have missed Ashlyn, so he went back to the bar. Damn. Again, not there. Then he realized there were stairs leading up to another level.

He hurried up the stairs, passing a man dressed in leather coming down, who eyed him hungrily and arched a brow. Zach shook his head and kept going. He wasn't homophobic, but he definitely wasn't interested in experimenting.

Finally. He found Ashlyn, and when she saw him, she came right over. Her face was flushed, and she looked even more enticing.

"I was looking for you,” she said, her voice a little husky. “We can go now."

"Already?” The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

She gave him a knowing look. “What? You don't want to go?"