“Don’t you understand English?” Waylen roars, “Take your clothes off.”
Lisa’s expression changes for the worse.
“Leilani really has some tricks up her sleeves,” she thinks bitterly, “Who would have thought she could be such a seductress? She made Waylen change his mind in an instant.”
“Waylen asked you to take off your dress,” Veronica Smith reminds Lisa in a gloating voice.
“It’s probably because he wants to see your impeccable body,” whispers one of Lisa’s more supportive friends.
Lisa gets up and reluctantly unzips her dress. She stands in the center of the room showing off her lacy bra and thong, and the dress falls in a crumpled heap at her feet. Her underwear does little to hide what’s underneath—she is almost n.a.k.e.d in front of everyone. Waylen stares at Leilani in his arms, completely ignoring the s.e.xy, half nude creature in front of him.
“Waylen,” Lisa calls Waylen’s name flirtatiously trying to draw his attention to her.
She’s never met a man who wasn’t extremely turned on by her body. Waylen seems to be the one exception.
Robert covers his eyes and hands the costume to Lisa, “Please get dressed, Miss Lisa.”
He doesn’t have the courage to look at her for fear of somehow angering Waylen.
Lisa reluctantly steps into the leather suit. The tight, black leather covers her body completely, fitting her like a glove. Even though she’s revealing less skin, she looks s.e.xier than before.
“It fits like it was made for you,” Leilani says, lifting her head from Waylen’s arm, “Robert, you have good taste.”
Waylen follows Leilani’s gaze to look at Lisa, but as he looks, he slides one hand under the jacket, to caress her bareback. Leilani can’t help frowning. She can’t believe Waylen would caress her back in public and act like he isn’t doing anything. She wants to make him stop, but doesn’t want to draw attention to his shameless behavior.
Waylen continues to stroke Leilani’s skin beneath the jacket and Leilani fights him without moving her hands or drawing attention to himself. She moves her hands subtly, pushing against him. She feels a part of him hardening and she brushes her hands over his groin.
“Get hard so fast?” she whispers with a sneer, “For me or Lisa?”
“You have to ask it yourself,” Waylen says, pushing himself against Leilani’s hand.
Waylen stifles a gasp upon feeling the warmth of her hand. She’s the only woman who can turn him on like this.
“It says it needs to figure that out for itself,” Leilani whispers.
Suddenly she pushes Waylen away, zips up her dress, grabs her purse and takes out the key card for the presidential suite. Upon hearing the sound of the zip, Robert opens his eyes and surveys the scene in the room.
“Is Leilani inviting Waylen to come back to the room with her?” Robert wonders, “Waylen will be thrilled.”
Robert can’t help but blush when he thinks about what may happen in the suite. To everyone’s surprise, Leilani throws the card on the table in front of Lisa.
“Have fun, Mr. Bamford,” she says, “I’ll leave you two to enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“Is Waylen’s wife surrendering to his mistress?” everyone wonders.
Waylen clenches his fists and stares at Leilani with a burning look.
“Mrs. Bamford, where are you going?” Robert says, trying to block Leilani’s exit from the room “The grand finale Mr. Bamford invited you to watch hasn’t started yet.”
Leilani sneers.
“They must be insane to think I’d care about some ridiculous show,” the thinks, “It’s obvious that they’re more interested in making a private show of me than in what’s going on on the stage.”
Leilani takes a deep breath, “I have to go to the restroom.”
She wants to escape from the smothering environment of the private room. Surprisingly no one tries to stop her. As she shuts the door to the private room she hears the sound of glass shattering, but the sound-proofing in the club is exceptional; as soon as the door shuts behind her she can’t hear a single sound from the private room.
Leilani leaves the room and enters the hot public space of the club. Though it’s warm and smells like alcohol, she feels like she’s walking on air. She knows that Waylen is intentionally being difficult and that she shouldn’t let it bother her, but she still feels annoyed.
“Why am I letting him get to me?” she wonders, “Is it because Waylen saved my life and got injured for me?”
Then she shakes her head as if the thought is absurd. No one knows better than her just how she’s suffered over the last three years. She’d despise herself if she made the same mistake and allowed herself to care for Waylen again.
As Leilani wanders the dim halls of the club she sees oil paintings of men and women intertwined in s.e.x.u.a.lly explicit positions. The paintings are different but they are similarly e.r.o.t.i.c.
Some young waiters rush through the hall to serve VIPs as quickly as they can. They cast impressed looks at Leilani and press themselves into the wall as they pass her. Leilani bends over slightly to lift her dress so she doesn’t accidentally step on it. Suddenly there are hurried footsteps behind her and men in black suits rush her way.
“That way, come on,” orders the man in the lead.
He pauses to give Leilani a swift but admiring look and then keeps moving.
Leilani notices that the men have guns. A club is a place for all sorts of people—as long as a guest has money to spend, they’re allowed into the club. Patrons include the men who steer the economy and politics of the world and crime lords and mafia dons.
The young waiters are used to seeing guns in the club and they make way for the men to pass. Leilani doesn’t give it much thought and walks in the restroom which smells of a faint but pleasant fragrance. There is not a soul in the restroom, but Leilani feels uneasy. She tells herself it’s all in her head and opens the door to the stall. Suddenly she’s pulled into the stall by a strong force. A forceful hand covers her mouth and presses her against a strong chest.
“Hush,” a man’s lowered voice warns her.
Leilani’s right hand is twisted behind her back and her body is pressed against the stall door. The man covers her mouth with his hand so that she doesn’t have a chance to yell. His hand smells nice as if he’s put expensive lotion on it. Leilani curses her luck—she’s just managed to escape one disaster and has found herself caught in a worse one.
Hurried footsteps approach and she hears the rough voice of a man shouts, “Inside.”
Leilani can feel the man exerting more force on her arm. The footsteps get closer and closer. The men must be looking for this man. Suddenly a gun presses into Leilani’s waist.
“Shout something,” her captor hisses.
He releases her arm but Leilani doesn’t dare to act rashly because of the gun. Her body is still pressed against the door.
She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice calm, “What?”
“Make s.e.x noises,” he whispers.
His voice was low and his breath skims over her earlobe, sending a strange numbness to her body. Leilani unconsciously bites her lower lip.
“Is this how he plans to save himself?” she wonders.
“You don’t know how?” he asks with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice.
“He sounds calm as if he’s used to dangerous moments like these,” Leilani thinks, “Either that or he’s totally unhinged.”
He moves the gun upwards from her waist and holds it at her temple.
“Need some incentive?” he threatens.
Leilani knows that he can’t really kill her—if he fires the gun the other men will find him immediately, but she also knows that there are other ways he can hurt her.
“Aren’t you afraid it will draw their attention?” Leilani asks.
Leilani’s face is against the door so she can’t see his expression.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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