Desert Heat Angeline Bright (c) 2005 ISBN 1-59578-136-6
Desert Heat Angeline Bright Published 2005 ISBN 1-59578-136-6 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Angeline Bright. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com Email:
[email protected] Editor Corina Calsing Cover Art by Dawn Seewer This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Dedication For my lover, who is too shy to be named in an erotic novel but is always supportive of my writing. Publisher’s Note There are no chapters in this book.
Desert Heat “His name is Antonio Martín,” said Chief of Police Juan Gutierrez. He held up a file photo showing a man in his early thirties. Vice Squad detective Amy Callestine resisted the urge to whistle. Despite what people saw in the movies, members of the criminal element were usually pretty ugly, but not this one. A lean face and strong chin pointed defiantly at the camera. Dark eyes below thick eyebrows glared with a cocky, almost bored, expression, not the usual look of someone in a mug shot. The old expression about opposites attracting ran through her mind. She’d always found dark eyes mysterious and alluring, so different from her light blue, and with her pale skin and blond hair this fellow Anton couldn’t be much more opposite. Amy leaned closer, studying the image as she would any suspect’s, although not quite for the same reasons. “We picked him up on a gun violation a couple of years back,” Chief Gutierrez continued. “It was a routine traffic stop, broken tail light. The officer got suspicious and searched the vehicle. Found an unlicensed .357 under the driver’s seat.” “What tipped the officer off?” Amy asked. “Nothing,” grunted detective Max Tully, the only other person in the briefing room. “That’s why good old Antonio’s not behind bars right now. The cop was a rookie and didn’t follow procedure. Some slick lawyer from Scottsdale got the perp off on a technicality.” Amy shook her head. The Phoenix Metro police were infamous for not following procedure. The city was barely a hundred miles from the Arizona/Mexico border, and both the criminals and the cops still had a Wild West mentality. The problem was that the courts didn’t. She’d seen too many crooks walk free because of some overzealous cop not playing by the book. “So why are we still after this guy?” Amy asked. “We think he’s smuggling drugs across the border,” Max said. Amy stopped ogling the photo and turned to Captain Tully, who was her superior officer on the force. He was handsome, although in a completely different way than the suspect. He had a strong, stocky build, a blond buzz cut from his days as a Marine, and sharp blue eyes so bright as to be almost crystal. She still got caught by those eyes. In her first month on the force, they’d had an affair. It was wonderful, full of passion and exquisite sex, but she had to cut it off. If they’d been found out, it would have been the end of both of their careers. He didn’t see it that way. Two years later, and he was still possessive, always trying to get her to come back to him. It was constant source of tension. The whispered conversations in the hall and the late-night phone calls taught her that sleeping with her boss, even though it gave her some of the hottest nights of her life, was too much trouble for what it was worth. She learned her lesson, though. She’d stuck to regulations ever since. “So why are we going after him? Sounds like a job for Narcotics,” she said, brushing those memories away and getting back to her job.
“Antonio runs a swingers’ club here in town,” Chief Gutierrez said. The middle-aged man shifted in his seat and picked up another document. “We have reports that he sometimes smuggles large crates out of Mexico and brings them there. We think he uses the club as a front to ship and distribute the narcotics.” “And this is where I come in,” Amy replied. Young, attractive women like her were quite an asset to the force. In the past two years, she’d posed as a prostitute in truck stops along Interstate 10, infiltrated an escort service that was blackmailing public officials, and nabbed prowlers in city parks. The chief nodded. “We want you to join this club and see what you can find. It shouldn’t be too hard to get in. Those places are always short on single young women,” he said. Max scowled. “I don’t like it,” he grumbled. “They’re sure to search her at the door, which means she can’t bring a gun. She’d be defenseless in there. Anything could happen.” Here we go again, Amy thought. He always got so protective when she went undercover. “I can take care of myself, Ma … Captain Tully. You know I have black belts in karate and judo.” “I should go instead,” Max countered. The chief’s eyes flicked from Max to Amy with an appraising look. Amy tensed, but kept her face expressionless. Gutierrez had been on the force for more than thirty years. Did Max really think he wasn’t going to pick up on the hidden elements of their conversation? After an uncomfortable silence, the chief finally spoke up. “A woman can get better access in this situation than a man can; you know that. Besides, Amy’s right, she can take care of herself. She’s been in plenty of situations like this before.” “But chief…” “That’s final, captain.” **** That night, Amy primped before the mirror. This part of her job always amused her. She never liked to dress up much. Like many people born in the Southwest, she was relaxed with regard to fashion. Shorts and a t-shirt were good enough for her. One of the things that appealed to her about becoming a cop was that she wouldn’t have to spend an hour or more every morning making herself look good for a bunch of office stooges. Besides, she liked the thought of herself in the navy blue uniform. That all changed when she joined the Vice Squad, though. All of a sudden, her looks were everything. So, what look to take for this job? She wondered. The hair should stay blond. She didn’t have time for a dye job anyway, and men often assumed blondes were dumb. That could be an asset. How much makeup? Cake it on and look loose? No, better to be subtle about it, look like a newcomer to the scene, a first-timer perhaps. Despite being twentyeight, she could still pass for a college girl, especially in dim lighting, so that could be her persona: jaded college girl out for a secret adventure. Not very believable, but the scene thrived on fantasy. Everyone involved wanted to believe.
Next came the dress: black or red? Not red, too obvious. Simple black, but not too short, and off the shoulder. Her shoulders, despite her martial arts training, still looked deceptively small and narrow. That would make her look vulnerable, like a young woman out of her depth. That was the key. She’d have every guy in the place ready to talk with her. As she put on the finishing touches, she mentally reviewed the information in Antonio Martín’s dossier. Mexican national, naturalized in 1998, supposed age 35. Birthplace, Mexico City. All that was probably bogus, though. Fake IDs were even easier to get in Mexico than they were in Arizona. His record was clean, except for the failed gun arrest. Opened up Desert Heat Adult Club in 2000. According to the police file, it was the biggest and most popular swingers’ club in the Southwest. It had very strict screening for entrants; although looking the way she did, she wouldn’t have to worry about that. The club had an even cleaner record than the owner’s, not so much as a noise ordinance or fire code violation. The record seemed too clean to Amy. Every business ran afoul of the city bureaucracy sooner or later. Antonio, assuming that was his real name, must be bribing someone. She stepped into her living room and practiced a few katas. The familiar karate motions reassured her, loosened up her muscles and warmed them. She threw a couple of roundhouse kicks into the air, enjoying the feel of her agile body. Short silk dresses not only made Amy look sexy, but they hiked up when you started kicking, allowing for freedom of movement. Opponents got a bit of a peek before losing their teeth. After a few minutes, she stopped and rearranged her hair, then looked ruefully at the high heels sitting by the door. No way to avoid wearing them, but they sure cramped her style. If things got really bad, she could always kick them off. In a pinch, a stiletto heel could be a nice weapon. There was this one trucker last year… The ringing of her cell phone distracted her thoughts. She answered it. “Hello, Amy? This is Max.” Amy’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Yes, Max, how are you?” She kept her voice level. “Look, be careful, OK? You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” “This is my job, Max.” “Yeah, but I don’t like it. Undercover work’s too dangerous. Bill over at Computer Crime says he needs an extra hand. Maybe you could transfer. I could arrange it.” “I don’t want to transfer. I like working Vice.” “But why? You could do anything on the force.” “I’m good at Vice. That’s what I want to do. Goodbye, Max.” She hung up, shaking her head. Every time she went undercover, it was the same. Max was always trying to protect her. He was the head of Vice, but that wasn’t why he was doing it. Putting his officers into harm’s way was part of his daily routine, but he wanted to protect her, keep her locked up in the station doing boring desk work, all because of a few nights more than two years ago. Perhaps he hoped that if she were around the office more, she’d come back to him. But she didn’t want a desk job. She wanted to be out there where the excitement was, grabbing the bad guys. That wasn’t the only reason, though, she admitted to herself as she put on her heels. No, she’d also joined Vice out of titillation. She’d always been interested in the erotic,
always wanted to venture into the dark and forbidden world that everyone pretended didn’t exist. She thought she might have a little fun on the side while protecting the public. Boy, had she been wrong on that score! She no longer thought she was going to meet Prince Charming out on the streets. She’d met, and arrested, too many greasy truckers, drunken perverts and sleazy businessmen cheating on their wives to harbor any more illusions. Now it was a job, and an important one. Still, she had to admit she felt a sublime tingling all over her body when she walked into a pickup joint or an adult club. All those eyes on her still gave her a thrill. She gave herself one final lookover in the hall mirror and smiled. “Desert Heat, here I come.” **** The club was located in the warehouse district next to the Interstate. A full moon was riding high, and warm desert air blew through her hair as Amy got out of her car. She scanned the parking lot. There were about fifty cars in all. Not too many, but it was only 7 p.m. on a Thursday. From what she heard, on Friday and Saturday nights the place was packed. The parking lot was well lit, unlike the surrounding area. At night, with all the workers gone, this part of town was abandoned. All she heard was the distant whoosh of traffic passing by on the raised Interstate a half-mile away. The club itself was a long, low building, obviously a converted warehouse. A chainlink fence, topped with barbed wire, surrounded the property, and an open gate at the parking lot entrance was the only way in. There was a single lit door and a modest sign on one end. Other than that, there was nothing to distinguish the club from any of the other warehouses in the area. Amy's heart trembled within her chest. She always got a bit jittery before an undercover job; for her, there was always a slight, sensuous undercurrent. Perhaps this time it really would be exciting. After she had ditched Max, there hadn’t been any time for romance. Her job kept her too busy for that. Her memory lingered on Antonio Martín’s mug shot. No one ever looked good in those things; they were worse than passport pictures, but somehow he looked gorgeous. Those dark eyes, that look of confidence in his chiseled features… Cool down, Amy, she thought. You’re going in there to bust this guy for drugs. He may be a looker, but he’s a con. Go do your job. She approached the spotlighted doorway. A muscular man in a tuxedo was standing by the door. His long, blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail to reveal hard, angular features. A security camera on the wall above him tracked her movements. “Welcome to Desert Heat, madam. My name is Mikhail. May I see some identification please?” he asked. His voice was cultured, with an Eastern European accent she couldn’t place. Amy showed him the false driver’s license the Vice Squad had provided her. “Amy Farthing,” he read. “Twenty years old, I see. I think you’ll be most welcome at our little club. Are you aware of its nature?” She smiled at the age on the license. It was as fake as the last name. Twenty-eight, twenty, what’s the difference?
“I’ve read the website,” she replied. “There’s only so much we can put on the website, madam. I want you to be aware that our club is quite … active. This is not another college pick up bar. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Amy was taken aback. She’d been to plenty of adult clubs, and she’d never been asked to think twice. Looking the way she did, why in the world would this bouncer try to warn her off? “I know what I’m doing,” she said, and suddenly felt as if she didn’t. Easy there, she thought. The bouncer shrugged and returned her driver’s license. “A one-night membership is fifty dollars. After that, if you decide to become a permanent member, you have to speak with the owner.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said as she pulled out a fifty from her purse. Permanent membership it is, then. A woman came out of the door. She was dressed in a form-fitting, one-piece suit of red leather. Her hair matched. With a sharp intake of breath, Amy realized that so did her eyes. Must be contacts, she thought, but they sure look real. “This is Estella,” the bouncer continued. “All new guests must be searched. Of course, in your case, I cannot do that task myself.” Amy thought she detected a trace of disappointment in his voice. Their eyes met for a moment. The heat of that gaze shocked her and made her look away. His eyes were red, too. This club had some strange dress codes for their employees. Estella gave her a thorough pat down (a bit too thorough). Long, red-painted nails raked down her inner thighs, then up around her hips and between her breasts. The bouncer Mikhail watched with amused interest. Amy felt her face flush. Blood coursed through her veins, making her nipples harden and warming the space between her legs. She found herself gazing into the bouncer’s red-tinted eyes… “All clear,” Estella said at last. Mikhail opened the door. Warm, red light suffused the parking lot. “You may enter, madam,” he said. Amy passed through the thick metal door into a narrow hallway. Another door stood in front of her. She paused for a moment, calming herself, then opened it. The rhythmic pulse of dance music and the flash of strobe lights momentarily overwhelmed her. She hesitated at the doorway, waiting for her senses to adjust, then scanned the interior of the club. A large dance floor dominated the center of the room. Multicolored lights flashed and swirled in time to the music. About two dozen people danced on the stage, some in couples, others in groups of three or more. One woman, wearing only a pair of black lace panties, moved sensuously between two completely naked, younger men. They ran their stiff cocks along her smooth torso as their hands explored her body. Amy had seen things like this before, and she always felt a little twinge of jealousy when she did. All that attention focused on her… She snapped back into professional mode and studied the rest of the room. Around the dance floor, in the half darkness away from the strobe lights, stood several tables. A few small groups of people huddled close together, watching the dancers, their hands
hidden under the tables. Beyond that, she could see several doors lining the walls. Most were closed, but a few hung open, and lone, silhouetted figures, male and female, waited in dimly lit doorways. Across the room, on the opposite side of the dance floor from where she stood, she saw a bar. She made her way towards it. A drink would make her seem innocuous, and she was sure to get into a conversation. Perhaps she could learn something. She passed between the tables and felt eyes on her. All the men, and some of the women, watched as she strolled by. As she passed the row of doors, she realized that they led to small rooms. She peered into one, the man standing in the doorway openly admiring her figure. The room contained nothing but a king-sized bed with a full-length mirror along it. A dim red bulb lit the interior. “Hey,” the man said. “You’re new here aren’t you? Want me to show you around?” She looked at him for the first time. He was handsome, dressed in a simple polo shirt and a pair of slacks. Although a bit on the older side, he was well built and his eyes showed none of the menace that was so common in these sort of places. Those eyes coursed up and down her body. “Perhaps some other time,” she smiled and continued on. Well, at least his eyes were normal, she thought. This club was unusual. Everyone seemed to be good looking, and none of them were leaping up to harass her. Antonio Martín obviously was very strict about who he let in. Probably had good security, too. She was sure there were cameras on her, hidden eyes watching the new girl’s every move, waiting to see if she would fit in. She sat down on a stool in front of the bar. The bartender, a black woman with a strangely feline face, eased up behind the counter. “What’ll it be?” she purred, in an accent that it took Amy a moment to place as African. Back in college, she had a roommate from Kenya who spoke like this. “Scotch on the rocks,” Amy replied. One of the nice things about undercover work was that she could drink on duty. It would be hard to fit in otherwise. She had been a party girl in college, so she didn't have to worry about a drink or two slowing down her reactions. The bartender brought the drink, and Amy looked at her more carefully. She had cat’s eyes. Amy shook her head and took a sip. This Martín crook had a strange way of dressing his employees. “Welcome to Desert Heat,” a low voice said into her ear. She jumped a little and turned to look at the man beside her. It was him: Antonio Martín. He had approached silently and was sitting on the stool next to hers. He was even more handsome than in his mug shot. That same lean face, that same strong chin, and those eyes… There was so much power in them. She had felt it even with his photograph, but in real life, it was a thousand times stronger. Unlike his employees, his eyes were normal. Just brown, human eyes, but the force in them was overwhelming. They seemed to look deep inside her, examining her, judging her, seeing all her secrets and deciding if she was a worthy mate. There was no mistaking what he was thinking. Her body flushed with a warmth even greater than when Estella had patted her down while Mikhail watched.
Then, she had been excited despite herself, but now she felt an erotic thrill she had never experienced before. “H … hello,” she stammered at last. “My name is Antonio Martín. I am the owner of this place,” he said with just a hint of an upper class Mexico City accent. He extended his hand, and she took it. His handshake was firm, but she felt as if he was restraining himself, that his powerful hand could crush hers with the slightest effort. Her gaze traced the bulging muscles under his starched white shirt and followed them up to broad shoulders. Her attention traveled downwards across a broad torso, shirt unbuttoned halfway to show a chest covered in thick black hair, then they drifted further. Antonio raised her hand and kissed it with warm, full lips. The tip of his tongue brushed her skin. He let her hand drop and looked into her eyes again. Amy struggled to control herself. She was a cop, and this was a suspect. She had to keep her head clear. She had to do her job. But this place … this place … it was what she had always fantasized about. Everyone was so attractive, so uninhibited, and none of the sleaziness that usually came with open sexuality. Amy realized that this had been what she had been looking for when she joined the Vice Squad; being a cop was just an excuse. What she really wanted was to be a participant. “So how do you like my little club, Amy?” he asked. “It’s amazing. I didn’t expect everyone to be so good looking. Nobody seems to be pushy either,” Amy stopped herself. “Wait! How did you know my name?” she demanded. Antonio smiled. There was warmth in that smile, sensuality too, and more than a trace of smug satisfaction. “It’s my business to know. Mikhail tells me of all the new people who come in here. To answer your first question, if someone appears drunk, rowdy, or otherwise not suitable, they never get past Mikhail. I believe that sex is a wonderful thing to be shared among equals. Members understand that respect is the first step towards true sensuality.” “So you respect everyone you sleep with?” Antonio’s gaze left hers and ran up and down her body. She realized it was the first time he had actually looked at something other than her face. “I am a good judge of character,” he said. “Just from looking at you I can tell that you are an intelligent, professional woman, but perhaps you spend too much time worrying about your job. This is probably why you come to a place like this, to break free. You are a sensual woman, too. You don’t deny this to yourself, but you keep it locked away, hidden from others. I can tell just by the way you walked into this room that you didn’t intend on joining with someone tonight. But you do like the attention these people give you, and you do like the idea of joining in their fun.” Amy stifled a gasp. Every single word was like an arrow straight into her soul. He had looked into her eyes and read her deepest secrets. Struggling to regain her composure, she changed the subject. “Mikhail has an unusual accent. Is he Russian?” “Hungarian, actually.” “You seem to have a lot of foreigners working here.”
Antonio gave a slight shrug. “This is America,” he said. “Except for the Indians, we are all immigrants.” A loud moan from the dance floor made them look. The woman dancing between the two men had finally lost her panties. They were between the teeth of the man in front of her. As he danced, they flew back and forth in time to the music. His hands massaged her breasts. She bent forward a little. The man behind her slipped his cock inside her and thrust in time to the pulsing music. The others around the three continued to dance, some watching them, some embroiled in their own erotic coupling. “You like what you see, don’t you?” Antonio asked. “Those people, they’re so uninhibited. They’re just doing it in front of everybody!” “You envy them, yes? Envy them for the eyes that are focused on them.” “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “Then why don’t you join them?” Amy couldn’t reply. She just shook her head. Antonio gave out a low chuckle, more ironic than mocking. “I can tell from your confidence that you have been to this sort of place before, yet you never join in, do you? Why is that, Amy?” Amy shook her head again, not trusting herself to speak. “Come,” he said, taking her hand. “You have not seen all of my club. Let me show everything Desert Heat has to offer.” Amy let herself be led away. To the left of the bar was a dark hallway she had not noticed before. They entered the shadows, still holding hands. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw they were in a maze of corridors and doorways. Low moans and gasps echoed off the walls, making it sound as if the air itself was trembling with a perpetual orgasm. They went by a side passage, then turned a corner. Continuing on, they passed a doorway opening into a small room. The entire space was taken up by a circular Jacuzzi. A couple embraced in its frothing water, oblivious to Amy’s stare. “Come,” Antonio urged. There were more passages, and more rooms, a bewildering variety of them. One was paneled with mirrors. Another was furnished only with a harness dangling from chains on the ceiling. Others contained beds. A few of the rooms had doors, but most were open to the hallway, openly displaying the scenes within. Many were occupied, but the couples and groups did not limit themselves to the rooms. Antonio and Amy slipped past, and sometimes stepped over, embracing figures lost in their own worlds of pleasure. In a distant part of her mind, Amy realized that she was lost. In this haze of lustful visions she had lost the way out of the club, back to the ordinary world she knew, the world for which she, as a police officer, was responsible. She let herself be led by this strange, sensuous man deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of sex. She brushed those worries away. This was the man she was sent to investigate. This was the job she was sent to do. What did it matter if the strong hand that held hers sent tingles up her arms? What did it matter if the confident movements of that lean, muscular body were far more erotic than the beautiful figures writhing in the maze? What did it matter if his eyes, those eyes, drew her closer to him every time they looked upon her? He was no longer leading her. They were walking side-by-side, arms hooked together, her free hand running up and down his brawny biceps.
They stopped at a room. A simple bed lay within. Antonio let go of her and stepped inside. “Join me,” he said, fixing her with his eyes. She hesitated. She shouldn’t do this, but every nerve in her body screamed to feel that body against hers. “Join me.” he commanded. Amy let herself go. Casting aside years of inhibition, she walked into the room. Antonio closed the door behind her and switched off the light. It was pitch black inside. Amy felt Antonio’s presence close behind her. His arms wrapped around her body, and she was enveloped in his muscular grasp. “Can we have the light on?” she whispered. “I want to see you.” “I prefer it off,” he said. “But I want to see…” “Just feel.” He squeezed her from behind, pressing the last bits of tension out of her muscles. His chest felt like a solid, warm wall against her back. His scent filled her nostrils. It was almost an animal scent, the aroma of the open desert wilds, not the jaded city life she knew. His hands explored her breasts, cupping them with powerful fingers, kneading them until she gave out a little gasp of pleasure. In the darkness, she felt his hand run down the sheer silk of her dress to her inner thighs. She leaned back on him as he pulled her legs slightly apart and ran the edges of his hands along either side of her moist womanhood. As he massaged her labia through the thin gauze of her dress, tremors of excitement ran throughout her body. She could barely stand now, totally surrendering to the sensuality of his touch. She pressed her ass against his body in time to his movements, as she had seen the woman on the dance floor do. The hardness of his manhood pushed against her. The animal scent increased, mingling with the smell of her own sex. Antonio let out a low growl that sounded almost bestial. In her mind, she was in a dark forest, where a wild creature hunted her… Her hand ran up and down his hard thigh, then up to his lean face. She was surprised to feel stubble there; she thought she remembered him being clean-shaven. It didn’t matter. The rasping of the rough hairs felt good on her fingers. As he pulled up her dress and worked his fingers inside her panties, she leaned back against the hirsute bulk behind her. He was so hairy! Her dress was up around her shoulders now, and she could feel his chest hair prickle against her back. She had admired his rough chest at the bar, but didn’t realize how much hair he really did have. The illusion of a wild beast became stronger, strengthened by the little snarls and growls Antonio was making as he fondled her. Two strong fingers pushed inside her. She groaned. She kicked off her shoes, felt Antonio pull the dress over her head and let it drop. She tried to turn around to face him, but his strong arms stopped her. He wanted to take her from behind, mount her like that wild animal she kept envisioning in her mind. Her hand strayed to his belt, fumbling in the dark as she unbuckled it. She slipped her fingers inside his pants and wrapped around his thick shaft. It felt almost unnaturally hot and incredibly large.
Antonio let go of her, just for a moment, and Amy heard him pulling off his clothes. In that short time, she did not turn around. She waited for his hands to direct her. With a growl, he grasped her again. Now only in her underwear, she felt his entire body pressed against hers. Again, she marveled at the raspy hairiness of it. She’d never been with a man with so much hair. It was almost like fur. That only made her more excited. The animal smell came over her once again, an intoxicating scent that made her tremble in anticipation. She ran her fingers up and down his cock. This, at least, was bare and smooth, ready to slip inside her. Antonio snarled, a low, wild sound in her ear. With a swift motion, he tore off her bra and panties. Amy tried to turn around again but he stopped her, pushing her onto her hands and knees on the bed. For a brief moment, she knelt there in the darkness, body hot with anticipation, head swimming from the thick musk filling the room… Then he mounted her. Bristly arms wrapped around her torso, a rough chest pressed against her back, and shaggy legs pushed her legs apart. The bulging tip of his cock pressed between her wet labia. Her cunt contracted, then dilated in anticipation of him. Amy yelped as she was filled by the full length of his manhood. She cried out at the size of it, then relaxed her muscles in order to encompass it, her body making the final surrender to this beastlike man mounting her. With a growl, Antonio thrust into her again and again, working up a rhythm. Amy moaned with each thrust, Antonio’s snarls and growls a bestial counterpoint. Her skin was covered with sweat, rubbed almost raw by the thick hide of her lover. She didn’t question his strange body, or the animal sounds he made, she just surrendered to it. Just feel. Antonio’s words echoed through her mind, and she rode the wave to orgasm. Just feel. The words cried as his thrusts became faster, as his hot breath blew in her ear with his panting. Just feel! Her body screamed as it exploded with orgasm, as Antonio, or the beast he had become, thrust even deeper into her, his body arching straight up in the bed, hands grasped around her hips, and he let out a howl, a long triumphant call of the wilderness, a sound of pure animal ecstasy. Amy’s arms collapsed underneath her as she gulped for air. Her cheek was pressed against the sweat-soaked sheets, but her hips were still raised, that huge cock still deep inside her. His hand ran down her spine, massaged her shoulders. Then his fingers gently brushed her cheek. Her body tingled all over again as he stroked her hair. His cock was still hard. The beast within him wanted more. And she wanted more too. This time she initiated it. She rocked her hips back and forth a little, feeling his engorged manhood rub up against the walls of her wet center. She started panting, like Antonio had, matching his animal sounds with her own, reliving that vision in her mind. Soon he was panting too, and their movements became stronger. Gradually, they increased the tempo, their bodies working together, until once again she felt his savage thrusts deep inside her body. She cried out in pleasure, snarled and growled as he did, two beasts of desire rutting in the night. Together they rode a wave of another orgasm,
and a third, crying out until the walls of the little room shook with the sounds of their mating. With a final, mind-blowing orgasm that made brilliant stars shimmer in her night vision, she and Antonio collapsed together onto the bed. For a long time they lay there, he still inside her, her body cupped in the warm, bristly folds of his body. Amy’s mind was a blank, floating on warm waves of afterglow. Still half dazed by the passion they had shared, she turned over and faced him in the dark. His slow, relaxed breathing told her that he was near sleep. She ran her hand along his side, feeling the hair beneath her fingers. Wait! That wasn’t hair … that was fur! She grasped it. It was long, thick, and all over his body. Wouldn’t she have noticed that in the bar, even when he was wearing clothes? Antonio jerked awake. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Honey, what’s the matter with your…” “I need to go,” he said, leaping out of bed. “What! Where?” “I have work to do. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have made love to you, not tonight.” “But Antonio, it was fantastic!” “I felt it too, Amy. You are a remarkable woman, but I really shouldn’t have tonight.” She could hear him stumbling about the room for his clothes. “Honey, turn the light on, you can see better. Then we can talk.” “No! Don’t touch the light.” Amy heard him getting dressed. She sat there, confused and hurt. As if sensing her emotion Antonio paused. “You are a special woman, Amy. I can sense that, but I made a mistake making love with you tonight. Tomorrow would have been better.” “What difference does it make if we met today or tomorrow?” she asked. “I cannot explain. I must go.” “But…” He stopped her words with a kiss. Their tongues intertwined in a long, luxuriant embrace. She moved her hands up to his face, but he gently pushed them away. “Tomorrow. Please, come to me again tomorrow. I can see you no more tonight.” With that, he slipped out of the room and away, leaving Amy to lie wondering in the dark. **** After a long while, Amy sat up, turned on the light and got dressed. Something had changed inside her, and she needed time to figure out what that was. Sleeping with Antonio had been completely unprofessional; he was a suspect. For two years, she had regretted sleeping with her boss, and then she turned around and slept with someone who was probably a smuggler? But it seemed so natural, so right. Antonio was completely unlike anyone she’d ever met. So free, so in control. Not like so many guys who use their confidence as a mask for
their hidden failings. Antonio backed up his confidence with something … special. What that was, she didn’t know, but she was going to find out. Antonio’s behavior still confused her. It was almost like he turned into some sort of monster. Amy shook her head. She must have imagined it. But what about the investigation? She sighed. Yes, the investigation had to go on. She still had to find out what he was doing with those shipments from Mexico. They weren’t declared, that was for sure. That was at least a customs violation. She hoped it was nothing worse than sneaking cheap booze over the border in order to save on import duties. Then he could get away with a fine. If it were drugs, she’d have to put him in jail. She didn’t want it to come to that. And tonight? If Antonio did turn out to be breaking the law, she’d lock him up. She had no choice. Even if he told the judge, jury, and everyone else about the night they shared, nobody would believe him. They’d all think he was making it up as a way to get back at his arresting officer. That was cold comfort. Suddenly, she realized that she didn’t care what other people thought. She didn’t want him to go to jail. She devoutly hoped he wasn’t the man Chief Gutierrez thought he was. She got up and exited the room, looking up and down the hall. The next problem was finding a way out of this maze… **** “So how’d it go?” Max’s voice sounded anxious on the phone. “Okay. I didn’t find out much. I’ll need to go back.” Amy was talking on her cell phone as she unlocked the front door to her apartment. It was standard procedure to call her superior officer after coming back from an undercover job. While Max was the last person she wanted to talk to at the moment, regulations were regulations. “Did you meet Antonio?” he asked. “Yes, but … erm … we didn’t talk much.” “Are you OK? You sound strange. Should I come over?” “No!…” Amy caught herself. “—I mean, no. You know you can’t come over, Max. You’re great and all, but it’s a bad idea.” She kicked off her shoes, eased out of her dress. “Whatever. You know you want me. We had a really good time,” Max grumbled. “Yes we did, but it’s over now, so let’s stick to work, ok?” “Fine. I needed to tell you something anyway. Our informant on the Mexican side tells us that another shipment is set to cross the border tomorrow night. Once they load it up and get it on the highway, it should make it up to the club in just a couple of hours.” “Does our informant know what it is?” “No. He’s Border Patrol, paid to look the other way.” “Why haven’t we put the creep in jail for corruption?” “Because he gives us tip-offs like this, that’s why. Anyway, he doesn’t know what’s in there. You’ll have to find out.” “So I have to go back tomorrow night!” Amy’s heart raced. She had been afraid that Max would have her investigating something else that night. Antonio had asked her to come…
“Well, you sound eager!” “Yeah, well, I just want to break this case.” “You really sound strange. I should come over.” “I’m going to bed, Max. It’s been a long, stressful day. Don’t make it worse.” “But…” “Good night, Max.” She hung up and went to the bathroom. Drawing a hot bath, she reflected on what she had said. No, it hadn’t been a stressful day; it had been a wonderful day. Weird, yes. Confusing, very. But stressful? If that was stressful, she decided she could use more stress in her life. **** The next night, Amy walked back into the club. Mikhail greeted her courteously at the door and didn’t have her searched. He waved aside the entrance fee with a smile, saying it had already been taken care of. The club was more crowded tonight. It was a Friday, and many more couples had come to blow off steam after a long week at work. She went to the bar and found one of the few empty seats. The African bartender with the cat’s eyes was behind the counter. “Good evening, Amy,” she purred as she took her order. “You know my name?” Amy asked. She didn’t remember mentioning it to her the previous night. “Of course I do; Antonio mentioned it,” the bartender smiled, giving her a scotch on the rocks. Amy smiled to see that she remembered her favorite drink, too. “The boss told me he was expecting you. My name’s Noémia, by the way.” “I’m Amy,” she said automatically, then laughed. “But you knew that. I didn’t realize I made such an impression. He must have had lots of women.” “I stopped counting long ago, honey, but you listen.” The bartender leaned closer to her and smiled. “He’s trying to hide it. Antonio always keeps his cool, but I know him, and I have never, and I mean never, seen him like this before.” Amy blushed again, not knowing what to say. “I have to say I’m a little jealous, but I always preferred blondes anyway,” the bartender said, cleaning off the counter. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me for a minute. If I don’t tell him the instant you get here, I’ll probably be fired. Although I bet he’s in his office now, glued to the security monitors. That’s where he’s been the last couple of hours. Staring at the parking lot must be getting a bit boring by now.” The bartender looked over Amy’s shoulder and smiled. “Well speak of the devil. Well, not exactly a devil.” Amy turned around. Antonio stood just behind her. “You came back,” he said, joy and relief mingling in his words. “You sound surprised,” she said. “I … after I left you last night I wasn’t sure if you’d be angry or not.” “I wasn’t angry, just confused. Why did you run away like that?” “I’m sorry. There was some important work to be done. I’d forgotten, and it needed to be taken care of right away.”
Amy bit her lip. She was a little hurt that he had left, and that he was so obviously lying to her. Or was he? The investigator took over, and wondered just what the nature of that work was. She knew she wasn’t going to get him to talk, but if she spent some time with him, he might let something slip. Then self-recrimination rose in her chest like a bitter acid. Who was she to complain of his lying? Wasn’t she pretending to be something she wasn’t, just to get the chance to arrest him? For a moment, she wondered why she ever became a police officer. “What’s the matter?” Antonio asked, sitting down next to her and grasping her hand. “I see I’ve hurt you. I apologize. It really couldn’t be avoided. Here, let me buy you a drink and we’ll sit for a while.” After Antonio had ordered her another drink, and one for himself, he turned to her. “So, we didn’t get much of a chance to talk last night, although I think I learned much about you.” Amy smiled. “I feel the same way. Tell me about yourself.” “I’m far more interested about you.” So they talked. First about little things, like the ranch his father owned in Chihuahua, and the neighborhood where she grew up in Phoenix. They talked about being young, and the dreams they had as they went off to college. They talked about their jobs and friends. It was a long, intimate conversation, and every word tore at Amy’s heart; she wasn’t telling him the truth, but an elaborate story she had made up, fiction Amy designed just for him and this bust. And she knew he was lying, too. There was no ranch in Chihuahua, no dreams from college. He was giving out a false personality, too, protecting himself as she was. They were like warriors on opposite sides of a battlefield, encased in armor that neither dared take off. To all those around them, from the smiling bartender who refilled their glasses regularly and kept a discreet distance at all other times, to the other patrons, who never tried to interrupt or make a pass, their conversation was an intimate moment that both of them cherished. The reality, Amy knew, was far different. Each thought they were fooling the other, protecting themselves with a false identity. The moments of passion they had shared the previous night were fading in her heart, turning stale and distant, buried under a heavy mantle of lies. The fact that Antonio must be feeling the same thing made it hurt even more. Amy couldn’t help but see the desperation in those brown eyes, that faraway look that hadn’t been there at their first meeting. The previous night had been pure attraction, but now that they had settled down into the mundane act of getting to know each other everything was going wrong. Amy was sure he was hiding something now. She had been trained to read people, first as a psychology major and then on the force. She could see the deception in his eyes. He was lying about something, perhaps about everything, but he didn’t want to. Besides the deception, there was sadness, regret. He didn’t want to lie to her, just as she didn’t want to lie to him, but they had no choice. They both had roles to play, and play them they must. The conversation faltered. Amy couldn’t stand it anymore, and she sensed that neither could Antonio. Eventually, they stopped talking altogether. Amy stared into her glass a long while, paralyzed by silence. Her scotch was nearly gone, but Noémia did not come to refill it. Amy couldn’t bear to look at Antonio.
After a long time, she finally got up the courage to speak. “Antonio…” “Yes?” Desperation. Fear. “You’ve had such an interesting life. Even if you were … even if you were someone … different, I mean, even if you hadn’t done all those things … done other things instead … I’d still be glad to be here.” She looked up, into those eyes. They weren’t so powerful now, not so commanding. Their look held tenderness, tinged with regret. He nodded. “Thank you,” was all he could say. “Boss,” someone interrupted, “you’re needed in your office.” Both of them looked up. It was Mikhail. “Why are you disturbing me?” Antonio growled, rage sparking momentarily in his eyes. “We have some work to take care of,” the bouncer replied. His tone managed to be both deferent and chiding. Antonio sagged, then nodded. He turned to Amy. “This might take a while.” “I … I need to get going. I’ll come back tomorrow, though.” “Is that a promise?” “Yes,” she said. She felt sure of it. Mikhail was already disappearing into the crowd. Antonio got off his stool and followed him. The shipment, Amy realized with a sudden sick feeling. It was time to be a cop again, time to betray someone she was… What? Falling in love with? Amy leaned against the bar and massaged her forehead. She didn’t even notice when Noémia filled her glass. Amy stared at it a long time, but didn’t take a sip. She was already a little tipsy, and she needed to keep her head clear. It was time to go check out what Antonio was doing. She had it all planned. The club, Amy remembered, was a converted warehouse. From the highway, she had seen that there was a loading dock on the opposite end of the building from the parking lot and main entrance. When she had arrived that evening, she had given the area a close look. She was pretty sure there were no security cameras except at the front door. Antonio wasn’t expecting anyone to go around back; there were concrete blocks at the edge of the parking lot to keep anyone from going back there by accident, so he didn’t monitor the rest of the building. The cameras were only on the front door and the interior. Apparently, he was watching the guests, not watching for undercover police, not for people who were going to betray his trust. No matter how much Amy kept telling herself she was doing her job, she couldn’t help but come back to that one harsh word: betrayal. She felt something for this mysterious, powerful man, and she knew that he felt something for her too, so wasn’t this betrayal? She sighed, picked up the glass, thought better of it, and put it down. Yes, she would have to go take a look. If he wasn’t doing anything wrong, what harm was there in looking? And if he was, well, then maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe it was better not to get involved with him. Reluctantly, she rose from her stool. Noémia was occupied with some other customers, so Amy took the chance to disappear into the crowd and head for the door.
Once outside, she nodded to Estella. “Going so soon?” she asked. “Antonio’s busy with something, and I need to get some air. I’ll be back tomorrow.” The red-clad woman put a hand on her hip and smiled at Amy. “You could spend some time with me instead. I have a break coming up.” “Thanks, but it’s too noisy in there. I’ve got a bit of a headache. Besides, a friend called and wants to chat over coffee.” She winced inwardly at the facile lie she had spun. It had gotten so easy doing that when she was undercover. She always justified it by telling herself it was part of the job, a way to catch criminals, but she didn’t think of Antonio as a criminal, or Mikhail or Noémia or any of the others. She hoped Chief Gutierrez was wrong about this operation. The cool night air and her pounding heart cleared her head from the scotch she had drunk. Feeling Estella’s appreciative eyes on her back, Amy walked to her car and drove off. She maneuvered through the maze of streets between the darkened warehouses. The chief had shown her a detailed map of the area, and she’d studied it until it was etched in her memory. There was a hidden spot behind an adjoining warehouse where she could park her car and approach the back of the club unseen. A chain-link fence topped with barbed wire blocked access to the club, but that would be no problem. It would be easy to climb, and a standard issue Kevlar police vest draped over the wire would keep her from getting cut. She found the spot and parked the car. She quickly changed from her eveningwear into sneakers and a dark jumpsuit, and strapped on a belt and pistol around her waist. She opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of binoculars. Adjusting the focus, she gave the warehouse a long, careful survey and confirmed that there weren’t any cameras in sight. Strange. If Anton was smuggling drugs he’d be sure to monitor all sides of the building. Amy smiled. If he wasn’t worried, he probably didn’t have anything to worry about. Maybe she wouldn’t find anything after all. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she got out of the car. The night was silent except for the distant sound of traffic. The moon was riding high, just beginning to wane, and the sky was clear. That made her nervous. She’d be visible as she went over the fence. Luckily, the spot she was going to climb was by the long, bare side of the club; no one should be there. She peeked around the building and scanned the area. No one was visible in the silvered light of the moon. She raced across the pavement to the chain-link fence. With a fluid motion, she threw her Kevlar vest on top of it, covering the coils of barbed wire. She was up and over in less than ten seconds. As she landed on the other side, she crouched and listened. From around the back corner of the club she could hear the sound of a truck idling, and the faint sound of several voices. She ran to the wall of the club and pressed herself against it. Slowly and silently, she crept to the back edge of the club. As she did, she eased the gun out of its holster. The electric light of the loading dock shone into the night, turning the pure rays of the moon a sickly yellow. The voices were clearer now, but she still could not make out what they were saying. It seemed to be a babble of foreign languages. She recognized Spanish, and what sounded like Russian and an Asian language. The others were mysteries to her. She cursed herself for not paying more attention in Señora Cruz’s Spanish 101 class in college. Parties and meeting guys had been more important than studying. Getting a C was all she wanted; now she wished she’d gotten an A.
Abruptly, she heard the truck’s motor cut off, and the babble of voices trailed away. She risked a peek around the corner. The loading dock was deserted. An old delivery truck with Arizona plates was backed up against a concrete platform. On the left side of the platform were several kegs of beer. In the center, close to the truck, were several long wooden crates. To the right was a hallway leading into the rest of the building. Amy slipped into the loading dock, using the truck’s bulk to hide her from view. She had to move fast and check out the truck and crates before anyone came back. She leapt onto the platform. Gun leading, she ducked into the back of the truck. It was completely empty. She turned to the crates. There were five of them, arranged in a neat row. Each was about seven feet long, three feet wide and two feet high. Amy lifted the top of one and was greeted by a puzzling sight. The crate was about half full of soil. She ran her hands through it. It was loose and seemed recently disturbed. She rummaged around, feeling somewhat foolish, in the hopes of finding something hidden beneath the surface, but there was nothing. She tried another crate, and another, and they too held nothing but soil. She tried the rest of the crates, careful to replace each lid as she finished, only to find that they all contained soil. Amy stood back, puzzled. Who would smuggle soil? It couldn’t contain some sort of bio-agent; otherwise, it would be sealed in something better than a wooden crate. No marijuana plants or magic mushrooms were growing in it, so what was it for? There were only two significant details about the dirt. The first was that each crate’s contents was heaped and clumped, as if it had been dug through. A ride in a bumpy old truck would have leveled out the soil. The other detail was that each crate seemed to have a different type of soil. One was rich earth from some temperate environment. Another was sandy, mixed with pebbles. A third was lush and moist. The crates were all only half full, so perhaps whatever the soil contained had just been removed and brought into the club. That would explain why they looked churned up, but not the different types of soil. Amy shook her head, baffled. She took out some evidence bags from her belt and collected a small amount from each crate. Perhaps the lab would be able to tell her more. Once she was done, she moved to examine the rest of the loading dock. The sound of voices from the hallway stopped her short. They were coming back. Silently, she leapt down onto the garage floor and sprinted back around the corner. She pressed herself against the outside wall of the club as before and listened to the voices. Once again, she heard several foreign languages. Then she heard the sound of wood scraping against concrete and the grunts of several men. They must be taking the crates away, Amy thought. Now was the time to escape, while they were busy. She sprinted to the chain-link fence and climbed up and over, retrieving her Kevlar vest as she descended. Back in her car, Amy studied the bags. This was too strange. She hoped the lab would be able to provide some clue, because she didn’t know what to think. She smiled to herself as she remembered the exploit that had gotten this evidence. The excitement of doing things like this was one of the best parts of being an undercover officer. Thinking of excitement made her think of Antonio. She changed back into her eveningwear. She felt bad for snooping around his business, but orders were orders.
Perhaps he wasn’t engaged in anything wrong after all. Suddenly she realized that she was feeling immense relief. Part of her fear of going into the loading dock had been the fear that she might find something illegal. She had fervently hoped not to find guns or drugs, and she hadn’t. Something strange was going on, that was for sure, but she wasn’t going to give up on Antonio just because of a mystery. But her hesitancy nagged at her. She was supposed to be a cop, and Antonio was a suspect. How could she let herself fall for him? Well, she wouldn’t let it jeopardize her judgment. If it did turn out Antonio was engaged in something illegal, she would bust him. It would break her heart, but she’d do it. In the meantime, Antonio was innocent until proven guilty. She started the car and sped off. **** “Nothing,” the lab assistant said. “As far as we can tell it’s just normal soil.” Amy shook her head and looked at the middle-aged woman in the white lab coat. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they be smuggling soil?” The assistant shrugged. “Sometimes smugglers put pot plants or other illegal substances in a matrix of soil, but we would have found traces of that. We did find something significant, though.” “What’s that?” “The soil is all from different areas of the world. Using a process called trace element analysis we can determine where a soil sample is from. You see, the ground in different parts of the world has different proportions of minerals and natural radioactive isotopes. Most of the world has been surveyed, so it’s pretty easy to determine where any particular sample is from.” “So where are these from?” The woman held up a sheet and examined it. “The samples you brought are from Syria, eastern Tibet, Ukraine, Manchuria, and southern Sudan.” “That’s quite a range.” The assistant smiled ruefully. “And now you’re going to ask me what all this means,” she said, “but don’t, because I have no idea.” Amy sighed. She was due to give Chief Gutierrez a progress report that afternoon. All she had was no evidence and more questions. She thanked the lab assistant and walked down the hall towards her office. Max ducked out of a side hallway and got in step beside her. “Was the lab able to figure anything out about those samples?” “No, but they were from different areas, as I suspected.” “Damn! That means you’re going to have to go back in and find more information. Perhaps I could go instead.” “This is my case, Max,” she whispered, making sure no one was close enough to hear her using his first name. “I talked to Bob about that transfer to Computer Crime.” “What transfer?” “You know, that transfer we talked about.” “You mean the transfer you talked about! What did you tell him?” “I told him you were interested.”
Amy spun on him. “What the hell did you do that for? You know I like working Vice.” Her raised voice made a detective look up from the water cooler at the end of the hall. “Shhh … keep your voice down. What’s wrong with Computer Crime?” “Nothing, but it’s not my department.” “But if you transferred, I wouldn’t have to worry about you all the time. You could still work Vice-type jobs from there. He’s just started a big project nabbing cyberprowlers. You’d be perfect.” “I’m not interested.” “But you wouldn’t be under my command anymore. That means we could see each other, and it would be okay.” “I told you, it’s over. Now leave me alone; I’ve got to think about this case. My case.” Hurt and anger fought for control over Max’s features. Hurt won. He turned and walked away. The guy I don’t want is still after me, and the guy I do want is wanted by my own department. Nice love life you’re having, Amy. **** Antonio was waiting for her at the bar. A brief look at his face showed that he didn’t suspect a thing. She had been afraid that there might have been a hidden camera somewhere she didn’t catch. A wave of relief ran over her. She decided to put the events of the previous evening out of her mind, forget the strange voices in the loading dock and the soil samples, and just enjoy some time with Antonio. Being an undercover cop had made her good at separating different parts of her life. She could take on a false name as easily as her own and pretend to be anything she wanted. It wasn’t the ideal way to live, but in her line of work, it was necessary. She suppressed the regret this made her feel and beamed at Antonio as she approached the bar. “I’m glad you came back. Last night’s conversation had me a bit worried.” “All done with work for the day?” she asked. He nodded. “I’m sorry about having to leave. We have all night together if you wish. I’m sorry about that.” “I understand. Really. You have this big club to run and I can’t expect to monopolize your time.” “You can monopolize it all you want,” he smiled. “Great! I didn’t get enough time with you last night. I’d like tonight to be a little less rushed.” “I’m glad,” he said. “You took a big step with me the first time we met. I was afraid it would scare you off.” “Nothing could scare me off.” She smiled. Her gave her an enigmatic smile. “Just what did you mean last night, when you said that you’d care for me even if I was someone else?” Amy looked at the floor. “I don’t know, I guess … it’s just that we don’t know each other very well,” she said.
“I feel like I’ve known you for ages.” “Well, I’m not as confident as you. I’d like to know more about you.” “We spent a whole hour talking about our past. I can tell you more, but it’s not like I’m being secretive.” Yes, you are, she thought, but who am I to judge? Amy rebelled against her gloomy thoughts. The lab samples had turned up nothing, which meant that Antonio was innocent. Being under suspicion proved nothing. She rebelled against the assumption that anyone under suspicion had to be a crook. That was the implicit message she got at the station, but there had been many times in her career when that notion had been proven wrong. Antonio was someone special, and she wanted to be with him. She practically leapt into his arms and gave him a passionate kiss. After a long, drawn-out moment, they separated. Antonio smiled at her. “Are you alright? You seen troubled.” “Not anymore,” she smiled, kissing him again. “What shall we do tonight?” As if in response to her question, an orgasmic moan came from somewhere in the club. They both laughed. “Okay, then. Where?” she asked. Antonio arched an eyebrow. “You are getting bolder.” “Am I?” “Would you like to join me on the dance floor?” Amy nibbled his ear and giggled. “I’m not that much bolder.” “Perhaps something a little more private?” “That would be wonderful.” He took her hand and led her behind the bar. Noémia smiled knowingly as they passed. “Don’t try anything I couldn’t do,” she said. They passed through a doorway and into a back room filled with beer kegs, bottles, folded sheets and cleaning supplies. From there, they passed down a short hallway and through a door. Antonio turned on a light and Amy saw they were in an office. A broad mahogany desk took up one end of the room. A computer and various papers cluttered its surface. On the wall next to it was a large TV screen. The picture was divided in quarters, showing views from four different security cameras that changed frequently. Amy could see black and white images of people gyrating on the dance floor, then Mikhail’s back as he stood in front of the entrance, then the bar, and a series of more interesting scenes. A couple of plush chairs faced the desk, and a couch sat against the wall opposite. “Welcome to my little sanctum,” Antonio said. “Not a bad little place,” Amy replied as she sat down on the couch. “Could use a feminine touch, though.” Antonio smiled and sat down close to her. “So could I,” he said. He moved closer to her, put his hand on her thigh. Once again, Amy felt that comfortable surrender. Her body tingled in anticipation as he took her into his arms. His touch was more intimate, less hurried than their first time. Their mouths locked in a long, luxurious kiss as their hands moved across each other’s bodies. Their flesh warmed to each other. Through a dreamy haze, she felt her clothes being removed. His
mouth explored her body, leaving warm, wet trails down her neck, sucking first on one nipple, then the other before moving further down. He gave her inner thigh a little snarling bite that made her yelp with pleasure and surprise, then he worked his way around her sex. She opened her legs wider. He lapped at her cleft, relishing the juices that flowed from her eager womanhood. He breathed deep of her scent; a distant part of Amy’s mind realized it was more like sniffing, before plunging his tongue into the folds of her labia. She grasped his hair and pushed his face closer against her. He responded by licking harder, quicker, and Amy ground her hips against him as she rose on a rainbow bridge up to the heights of a quick, furious orgasm. A cascade of light exploded in her mind, and she bit at a cushion to keep her scream from reverberating throughout the club. Heat, pleasure, tranquility. Then Antonio was mounting her. His huge cock effortlessly slid into her wet, eager sex. She ran her hands along his back, a hairless back (so silly of her to think he had fur), as he pressed against her. He kissed her then, and she tasted the tang of her own juices on his lips. She’d never experienced that before, never wanted to, but with Antonio all inhibitions seemed to fall away, leaving only with the thrill of her own body and the joy it could give her. His thrusts increased in tempo. She pushed out her hips in time with his movements, grabbing his tight ass to push him deeper, deeper, deeper into her. She was rising towards orgasm again. Antonio’s tightening muscles, triceps standing out like cords on the back of his arms, told her that he was getting close, too. Desperately, she pulled him against her. She wanted them to come together, be together when that happened, the beautiful miracle of two bodies becoming one. Their breathing became ragged, their thrusts wilder. Amy clawed at Antonio’s ass, ran her nails down his back. She was probably leaving great red marks on him, but she didn’t care, didn’t even fully know, and Antonio was too far gone to even notice. A final strain of muscles, two backs arching, and they were there. They cried out for sheer joy. Amy wasn’t biting the cushion now. She didn’t care who heard. She wanted the whole world to know of the ecstasy she had finally found. They held there for a moment, riding the high note of the symphony they had created together. Then Antonio collapsed into her arms. She hugged him close, a warm, sweating weight that made her feel safe and protected. Amy’s mind wandered. She felt like she was floating, half asleep, in a warm, comfortable and safe place where nothing could hurt her. With languid thoughts she knew that it could always be like this, all she had to do was be with him. It had never been so easy before… The phone on Antonio’s desk rang. He groaned and got up. “Sorry, that’s the internal line. Something must be wrong.” He picked up the phone. Amy could hear a muffled voice on the other end. He nodded and looked at the security monitor. He pressed a button and one of the images took up the whole screen. Noémia was behind the bar, arguing with an angry patron. The man was gesticulating wildly. Although there was no sound, it was obvious he was drunk and shouting. Noémia was shaking her head. Amy realized that the bartender was cutting him off, and he didn’t like it. A few other patrons were looking on, obviously offended by the man’s behavior.
“Looks like I’m going to have to give this guy a talking to. Then I’m going to kick him out. He’s a newcomer, and I don’t want idiots like that in my club,” he said, hurriedly dressing. “Yeah, you better go,” Amy said. “Why is it we always have to run like this?” he asked, pulling his pants on. Amy shook her head sadly, dressing herself. “I don’t know.” “I’ll be back soon,” Antonio said, kissing her as he went out. He closed the door behind him. Amy watched the monitor as she zipped up her dress. Antonio appeared on screen. Noémia stepped aside and began serving other customers. Amy watched as her lover confronted the drunk. There was such a contrast between them. The customer slouched in front of the bar, his movements sloppy as he explained his case. Antonio stood tall and dignified before him, not showing any anger but not showing any sympathy either. The drunk got more animated. Antonio came around the bar and led him to a table. They sat down and started talking. Amy had to admire Antonio’s class. Any regular manager would have thrown the guy out on his ear, but here he was, calmly explaining to him why his behavior was unacceptable. The man would probably wake up the next morning thinking what a great place Desert Heat was, even though he’d just been kicked out of it. A buzzing from her purse brought Amy out of her reverie. She’d left her cell phone on vibrate. She pulled it out of her purse and looked at the number. It was Max. She didn’t pick up. Suddenly, the room went cold. Everything came into sharp focus and she sobered up immediately. She had just realized where she was, and that she would be alone for at least four or five minutes. The cop took over. This would be the last time. If she could find nothing, she would close the case. Antonio would be free and they could be together. Amy knew in her heart that he was innocent. She ran behind the desk and looked at the papers scattered there. They were routine things: orders, spreadsheets, receipts. She opened up one of the drawers and found more of the same. With compulsive efficiency, she rummaged through the others. She had to do this, had to know. If nothing turned up in the next few minutes, she would go back to the chief and say that she could find no evidence of wrongdoing. The case would be dropped. It would free her as well. She needed to get rid of that last trace of doubt, that thin wall of suspicion between their hearts. If there was nothing there (and nothing would be there, she told herself), then she would be free to be with this wonderful man. Then she found them, hidden below a stack of order forms in the bottommost drawer. Two dozen green cards in a neat little stack, bound by a rubber band. They looked real, but it was easy enough to buy forgeries on the black market. The people pictured on them were of various nationalities and races. None of them were people she recognized as employees of Desert Heat. The truck coming at night, the babble of foreign voices, a stack of green cards… And then it was all too clear. Antonio was smuggling illegal aliens.
She nearly collapsed with grief. It had all been a lie. Antonio really was a criminal. She’d have to put him in jail, sit across from him in a courtroom and tell the jury what she found. Could she even look at him when the time came? Her police instincts had her shutting the drawer and rearranging everything as it had been. She wasn’t even fully aware she was doing it. She slipped out of the office before Antonio returned. The throb of the dance music pounded in her ears. She felt claustrophobic, self-conscious. She had to get away from all those people. A man smiled and said something, maybe asking her to dance. She pushed by him, not even noticing as she knocked his drink onto his shirt. After what seemed like an eternity, she burst outside and into the warm night air. It was blessedly quiet. She passed by Mikhail without even a greeting and strode out into the parking lot. Trying to hold back her tears, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed Max’s number. “Max, this is Amy.” “Hey, what’s up?” “We got him. Antonio is smuggling illegal aliens.” “Antonio, you mean that Martín creep? Hey, are you okay? You sound like you’re crying.” “I’m fine,” she replied, hearing her voice break. “What did that bastard do to you? I’ll be there in two minutes.” “Two minutes? Where are you?” “On the shoulder of the highway about half a mile from you, just next to the exit. I’ve been casing the place with a pair of binoculars.” “You’ve been spying on me?!” “No! Protecting you. I’ll be right there, baby.” Max hung up. Amy buried her face in her hands. What was going on? Max spying on her, Antonio a criminal. Everything seemed to be falling apart. “Are you all right?” a voice came from behind her. It was Mikhail. He pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her. “Thank you,” she sniffled. Mikhail. The illegal alien smuggler. This sexy guy who acted like a gentleman even though he was a bouncer at a swingers’ club. He’d go to jail, too. “You need to get out of here,” she said. The words came out before she could stop them. Confusion flickered across Mikhail’s rugged features. “Why?” A car sped into the parking lot. With a squeal of tires, it came to a halt in front of them. Max leapt out, a gun in one hand and a badge in the other. “Freeze. Police! You’re under arrest! Move slowly away from her!” he shouted. A slow smile crept across Mikhail’s face. He raised his hands and took a couple of steps to the side. “Well, this is a surprise,” he muttered. Then he looked right into Amy’s eyes. “I guess you’re a cop too, eh? Antonio really cares about you, you know. Of all the women he has had, you are the first to have such an effect. This is going to break him.”
Amy’s heart sank. She felt distant and sick as Max put away his badge and pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt. “What the fuck are you talking about? Put your hands on the car, Eurotrash,” he ordered the bouncer. Mikhail did as he was told, the same enigmatic smile on his lips. Max went to put the cuffs on him. In a blur of motion, Mikhail spun around and knocked the gun out of Max’s hand. Before the policeman could even react, the bouncer had him by his collar and threw him against the car. The bulky ex-marine tried to defend himself but Mikhail was impossibly fast. He was on Max in an instant, first with a punch to the solar plexus that doubled him over, then with a backhand slap that sent him sprawling. Amy dove for the pistol. She grabbed it, rolled over and came up onto one knee. She leveled the gun at Mikhail’s chest. “Get down on the ground right now, or I’ll shoot.” Mikhail cocked an eyebrow and looked around. “There’s no one out here; no one to hear the shots. That’s good. Witnesses would be inconvenient.” “You’ll hear a shot if you don’t get down on the ground right now!” Mikhail took a step forward. Amy pulled the trigger. Mikhail jerked, then stood erect, looking ruefully at the puncture in his suit. “This was expensive, you know,” he said. Then he looked at her. There was an eldritch gleam in his red eyes as he lunged for her. Amy got off two more shots before he was on her. Mikhail knocked the gun out of her hand as easily as he had with Max, then grabbed her by the neck. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must,” he said. Although baffled and terrified, Amy’s martial arts training took over. She brought up her forearms, hitting the inside of Mikhail’s wrists. The move knocked away his grip. Then Amy landed a punch in his stomach, followed by a karate chop to the neck that would have left any normal man unconscious for several minutes. But Amy realized this was no normal man. Mikhail was knocked to the ground by the force of the blows, but was up again in an instant. Amy sailed through the air, hitting the side of the car before landing hard on the pavement next to Max. Dazed, she still managed to get to her feet before Mikhail was on her again. One arm was around her head, his hand over her nose and mouth, cutting off her breath. With the other arm, he squeezed her, pinning her arms to her sides. Amy tried to head-butt him, but his grip was too strong. She brought her stiletto heel down on his shoe. He winced in pain but remained standing. “These shoes were expensive too,” he grunted. “Your lover is going to owe me a new wardrobe for all the trouble you’re causing.” Amy hooked a leg under his knee and buckled it. They fell together onto the pavement. She freed one hand and dealt him several blows to the face with her elbow. With a curse, Mikhail rolled away and stood up. Amy was too shocked to stand. The strikes she’d made on him were enough to fell half a football team, but he didn’t even looked bruised. Mikhail shook an admonitory finger at her. “I was being nice because you are my boss’s girlfriend, but now I’m going to hurt you.”
He walked towards her. Amy knew it was useless to struggle further. She was dead. This man, if he was a man, didn’t even feel bullets. Far behind Mikhail, the club door opened. For a moment, Amy saw a figure silhouetted in the doorway, then a blur of motion. Mikhail was knocked down. The bouncer and the newcomer rolled on the ground for a moment, then the newcomer came out on top. It was Antonio, but there was something wrong about him. He looked bigger. Hair sprouted from his face and the back of his hands. He roared like an enraged animal as he struck Mikhail again and again. Each blow made Mikhail’s head bounce off the pavement, but he barely seemed perturbed. “You dare raise a hand to my woman!?” Antonio shouted, his voice rising to a howl. Mikhail narrowed his eyes. “Your woman just shot me, and she’s working with this cop!” Antonio looked at Max’s prone body, then over at Amy. His baleful eyes were impossible to meet. Near panic, Amy scrabbled back before bumping up against the car. With her heart in her throat, she gazed, wide-eyed, as Antonio stalked over to her. His animal musk filled her nostrils again, but this time it wasn’t the scent of lust, but her imminent death. He drew his face close to hers. “Is this true?” “Yes,” she squeaked. He lifted her up like a rag doll and threw her over his shoulder, then turned to Mikhail, who was already getting up. “Collect the gun and spent casings, park this car, and bring this policeman with you. Have Estella keep a lookout for others.” **** Amy sat on a sofa in Antonio’s plush office. Next to her, Max lay half unconscious as Noémia straddled him, ministering to his bruises with a first aid kit. Amy noticed that the bartender seemed very concerned about his welfare, so concerned that she felt the need to press her chest against the still figure as she daubed iodine on the cut on his forehead. With mild surprise, Amy realized that she didn’t feel jealous in the least. Besides, she had more important things to worry about, like Mikhail and Antonio standing before her, arms crossed and eyes almost glowing with barely suppressed rage. “Tell me all, policewoman,” Antonio demanded. The coldness in it made her flinch. She didn’t deny the accusation of betrayal dripping from the word “policewoman.” “We had reason to suspect that you were smuggling something through this club from over the border. I came here to find out what that was. I discovered you were smuggling illegal immigrants, so I called my superior officer and he came as backup,” she explained, trying to keep her voice level. She was tired of lies, even if the truth might mean her death. Antonio let out a short, barking laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Illegal immigrants? Is that what you think of us?” “What are you, anyway?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. “We are Otherkin, and we do not follow your laws.” “Otherkin?”
“People, like you, although your prejudices have labeled us ‘monsters’ or ‘bloodsuckers.’ We are the people your narrow minds have relegated to myth.” “Are you … are you a werewolf?” she asked. Antonio nodded. “I am a shape-shifter, if that is what you ask. My form is of a wolf. Noémia’s form is a leopard.” “And Mikhail?” “Mikhail and Estella are vampires.” Amy closed her eyes. This can’t be real. This is something out of a B movie. This just can’t be real. Mikhail must have hit me in the head and I’m hallucinating. She opened her eyes. Everything was still the same. Damn. “I can’t believe you betrayed me,” Antonio continued. “I can’t believe I was so stupid as to believe all those things you said. You are worse than a succubus. Do you sleep with all your victims?” “No! It wasn’t like that. Let me explain,” she pleaded, close to tears despite her own sense of betrayal. “Oh, so you really love me and were investigating me all this time so you could arrest me? You humans have a strange sense of loyalty.” Amy sagged in her chair, knowing that what he said was true. She had betrayed him. Her self-hatred was slowly replaced by a cold, creeping fear. She looked up at the werewolf and vampire glaring at her. She could not meet their eyes. “Why did you tell me your secret?” she asked, shivering. “Because I want you to understand that you were wrong about us … about me,” Antonio replied. “Besides, you won’t have a chance to betray me again.” Amy froze. Max stirred next to her. Noémia was still sitting on his lap, cooing and stroking his forehead. He opened his eyes. When he saw the were-leopard’s catlike eyes close to his, he struggled to get away. Noémia hissed. Claws extended from her fingertips. Max gulped and kept still. “Poor baby,” Noémia purred, running her claws through his hair. “What are you going to do with us?” Amy asked. “That is a very good question,” Antonio replied. “Do not worry, I have no desire to kill you. Especially not you, Amy. Despite the fact that you lied to me and stabbed me in the back, I still care for you. It’s a pity our relationship has to end this way.” For a moment, the fear in Amy’s heart was replaced by a deep sadness. With an effort, she tamped it down and shouted at Antonio. “What do you expect me to do? You’re breaking the law! Trafficking in people…” “Did you not hear what I said earlier? We are Otherkin. Oh, we are people, but not humans. More like distant cousins of humans, and why shouldn’t we have a chance to come to this country? Many of the countries we come from are rent by war or oppressed by dictators. Don’t we have the right to a decent life, like you? But we cannot immigrate the normal way. First of all, immigration offices are only open in the daytime. That leaves the vampires out. And the INS does blood tests to check for diseases. Shapeshifter's blood is a mixture of both human and animal. Such a test would surely reveal
what we are. Not only would we be denied entry, but we’d be hunted down, just as in the old days when people still believed in us. So no, we cannot move freely through your world. We have to make our own arrangements.” “Like those crates of soil?” Max asked, staring at Noémia with googly eyes. “There the legends speak the truth.” Antonio sounded like he was lecturing a slow child. “Vampires need to rest in their native soil.” “You’re all monsters! You kill people!” Amy shouted. “Really? And where did you learn that? From the movies? What do you know about us?” “Well, I…” “All you know is a bunch of recycled lies propagated by the ignorant and the afraid. The Otherkin are as moral as any regular person. Vampires, for example, do not kill their victims. They do not need very much blood, actually. To avoid detection, they have arrangements with blood banks in every state. You’d be amazed if you knew how many managers in the Red Cross are actually vampires.” “What about shape-shifters?” Max asked, sitting very still as Noémia kissed him first on one eye, then the other, then started nibbling his ear. “We hunt animals, not humans. We only resort to violence to defend ourselves, or our mates.” With this, Antonio gave Mikhail a hard look. The bouncer just shrugged. “So if you aren’t going to kill us, what are you going to do with us?” Amy asked again. The possibilities reeled through her mind. Maybe he would keep them prisoners for life, or turn them into undead monsters, or… “Vampires are quite good at hypnosis. Mikhail is going to hypnotize you both into forgetting everything that happened here. You will go back to the police station and report that you could find no evidence of wrongdoing. The case will be dropped. To explain your bruises, Mikhail will implant a memory of a car accident. You will think that your fellow officer here was driving you back to the station when you had a blowout and swerved off the road.” He turned to Max. “I am sorry, but we will have to crash your car to make the story believable. I hope your insurance will cover it. Does this sound fair to you?” Max sat very still as Noémia’s long cat claws scraped lightly down his face. “Um, sure. Make us forget everything. We’ll never bother you again. Just get us out of here!” Noémia pouted a little. “Can’t we keep them, just for a little while? He’s sweet.” Antonio chuckled. “No, Noémia, we can’t. Now get off that nice man and let Mikhail do his work.” The vampire stepped forward. He held up his right hand. On it was a gold ring set with a large diamond. It sparkled in the light, sending glimmering colors into Max and Amy’s eyes. Amy felt herself relaxing… “No!” she shouted. Her shout broke the spell. “No!” she shouted again. “I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget you, Antonio, or this place. Hypnotize Max if you need to, but … but … I love you, Antonio.” Antonio gazed into her eyes. She could see hope there, but hesitation, too. “Please,” she continued, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We belong together; I just know it. I don’t consider you a criminal
anymore. You’re right that all our laws can’t apply to you. You’re too different. If you say you’re not stealing or hurting people, then I believe you. I trust you. I want to be part of your life, part of this club. Please don’t make me forget you. I’ve never been this happy before.” “I love you too,” Antonio whispered. Amy jumped up from the couch and they embraced. She felt warm and safe in his grasp. Complete. “Well, isn’t that charming,” Mikhail clucked. Antonio smacked him on the back of the head. Mikhail grinned at them, fangs exposed. “So, Antonio, if you need any help tonight…” the bouncer chuckled. “Just hypnotize the damn cop and get him out of here,” Antonio ordered. Amy rolled her eyes. Guys weren’t all that different, no matter what their species. She looked at Max. Their gaze met, a sad look in hers, a silent pleading in his. “I’m sorry, Max.” “Look at me,” Mikhail ordered him. The sparkles from Mikhail’s ring danced in Max’s eyes. “Now listen to me very carefully…” the bouncer began. **** “There’s still one thing I don’t understand,” Amy asked. “Why did you say that it was a mistake for us to make love that first night?” It was after hours at Desert Heat. Most of the employees and recent arrivals were out on the dance floor. Mikhail and Estella were giving each other bloody hickeys. Noémia had turned into a leopard and was prowling around after a rather intimidated-looking cougar. “It was a full moon,” Antonio said. “Shape-shifters can control their transformation, but it is much more difficult on the full moon. If we are injured or, ah, excited, in any way, then we will begin to change. In the throes of passion, I wasn’t able to keep my fully human form. I did avoid turning completely into a wolf, though. That might have been a bit embarrassing for us both.” Amy blushed and rested her forehead on his chest. “To say the least. All this is pretty new to me.” “You are adapting remarkably well. Not many humans know our secret. Only those we know we can trust.” Amy looked up again, searching his face. “You trust me? Even after all that happened?” Antonio nodded solemnly. “Especially after what happened. You stuck to your morals, even though it wasn’t what you wanted to do. I could see how hard it was for you to try to arrest me. It made me respect you even more than I already did, and it proved that you loved me, that all this wasn’t a charade.” “I’m sorry about all that. If I had known…” “About the Otherkin? There is no way you could have. That’s why I didn’t blame you for your decision, and I still don’t blame you. You made the wrong call, but that was only because you didn’t have all the facts. Once you knew our situation, you saw we were in the right.”
“Well, your secret is safe with me. I don’t want any other human girls to get a hold of you.” Antonio hugged her. Amy relaxed into the warm strength of his arms. “You are the only one for me now. And thank you for your secrecy. We like to remain inconspicuous.” “You own a swingers’ club! How’s that inconspicuous?” “Well, we don’t put out a sign saying ‘werewolf owned since 2000.’” “OK, smartass. So, if you are trying to be inconspicuous, why do you let people see your eyes? Some of you look normal, but what about Mikhail and Noémia and the others? I thought they were wearing those special contacts, but they’re still pretty startling.” “Oh, that? Well, why should we have to go through all the trouble? Actually, Otherkin own the company that makes those contacts. I think it’s quite funny that so many of you humans, especially those who go to clubs, are imitating us, and you don’t even know it!” Antonio laughed, a free, wild sound. Amy joined in. A slim man dressed in a pale green jellaba and white turban came up to them. His pearly smile was set off by his ebony skin. Deep-set eyes glowed red like a pair of burning coals on his broad face. He shook Antonio’s hand. “Thank you again, Mr. Martín. You have saved my life!” he said. “Amy, this is Mr. Adamu Jakada, he’s a new arrival from Sudan. Mr. Jakada, I’d like you to meet Amy Callestine,” Antonio introduced them. Amy smiled to hear her lover finally use her real name. “Pleased to meet you,” Adamu said, shaking her hand and putting the other over his heart. “You have a fine man here. There is a terrible war where I’m from. My countrymen are being slaughtered by their own government. If he hadn’t arranged to get me here, I would have surely been discovered and killed.” “Welcome to America, Mr. Jakada,” she said. The African vampire leaned closer to her, his bright teeth extending to sharp points. “I heard about the little incident where you rummaged around my coffin. Do not worry, I have forgiven you.” “Um … thank you. Sorry about that,” Amy said, flustered. Adamu let out a booming laugh and slapped Antonio on the back. “I only hope you didn’t make our Mexican friend here jealous. You are supposed to be rummaging around his coffin, but, of course, he doesn’t have one. Too bad for him.” The Sudanese examined the dance floor, eyes gleaming. “I like this country already. It reminds me of the orgies we used to have in the royal court in Meröe all those centuries ago.” He disappeared into the throng. A few moments later, he reappeared, dancing close to a young Asian woman as she pressed her ass against his crotch. “You told him?” Amy said, dumbfounded. “Why not? They have a right to know why a human is in their midst. I vouched for you. They know you are trustworthy.” Amy laughed and kissed her lover, ran her hands across his chest. “If you think you can stay human, why don’t we have a little fun?” she whispered in his ear.
“Let’s go to my office,” he smiled. Amy glanced at the dance floor. Noémia, in leopard form, had finally caught the cougar, and their feline yowls pierced through the booming bass of the rock music. Mikhail and Estella were tearing off each other’s clothes with their fangs. The Asian girl had slipped off her thong, and Adamu was pulling up his jellaba. She felt an urge to be among that wild crowd. All those eyes watching her… “Let’s go up there instead,” she said. Antonio tilted his head a little and gazed at her appreciatively. “This is a surprise,” he said. She smiled back at him and took his hand, leading him to the dance floor. The music pulsed in her veins. Multicolored strobe lights flashed in her vision. The music intensified and she let herself be carried away by it. Antonio held her close as they rocked and swayed in time to the music. She focused on his eyes and found them filled with happiness and desire. The air was close and heavy with the smell of sweat and sex. Another yowl from the felines told her Noémia was showing that cougar a thing or two. Maybe I should do the same with Antonio, Amy thought. She pulled away from him, danced into the center of the surging crowd. Half-lit figures writhed and coupled all around her. Antonio gazed at her, wondering what she would do next. She slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The garment slid to the floor as she danced. A few eyes flicked her direction to admire her figure and the black lace panties and bra that she was wearing. She let herself go, danced with a wild abandon she had never known, even in her college years. Just feel, that’s what Antonio had advised her, and that’s how she wanted to live her life. The music took her over, captivated her. Before she knew it, she had taken off her lingerie and thrown it aside. She laughed when she saw her panties had landed around the ears of the cougar. Mikhail was using her bra to tie Estella’s wrists to a metal pole near the edge of the dance floor. A space had cleared around her. The couples and groups still embraced, still gyrated in time to the music, but she was the center of attention now. All those eyes were upon her. Sweat made her bare skin sparkle under the hot lights as she melded her dance with some karate moves. Mikhail laughed as he recognized some moves that had been used on him. Estella was straddling him now, her legs wrapped around his waist, hands tied above her head to the pole. The male vampire entered her with slow, easy thrusts. Both of them stared at Amy. “Welcome to America, indeed!” came the booming laugh of Adamu. They were all looking at her. She delighted in the thought that they had accepted her into their secret world. Their faces were open and friendly, their eyes hot with desire. But she didn’t want any of them, not yet. Tonight she only wanted that dark, lean man who was dancing towards her through the dazzling rainbow of lights. He had shed his clothes too, and his stiff member led the way as he came into the circle of dancers to stop in front of her. They came together, their hands running up and down each other’s bodies, two dances merged into one. Their hands and lips explored each other, caressed each other, the music fading, the lights dimming away as they delved into a world that was only
theirs. Antonio lifted her up and Amy was no longer conscious of the crowd staring at her. She was past the shyness, past even the thrill of being watched, for he was all she wanted now, and, as his cock filled her up, she shouted with sheer joy and liberation. She had finally found what she was looking for. She was finally free. The End About the Author: Angeline Bright is a professional archaeologist and historical researcher. She has worked on excavations on four continents. Her research keeps her flying back and forth between Europe and the United States and she feels at home wherever she has a change of clothes and a couple of friends. When not buried in old books or even older artifacts, she enjoys writing erotica, watching old movies and hiking in the mountains. This is her first published erotica, but not her last!!!
Meet LSB Authors At Http://Lsbooks.Net We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com for other exciting literary erotica romances. Weekend Games—Chris Tanglen Destiny's Magick—Rae Morgan Love Lessons—Vanessa Hart Portal—Sydney Morgann Bittersweet—Louisa Trent And many, many more!!
