Chapter 2
The Client Commanded Us To Kiss… And We Couldn’t Stop
The private room door closes behind us with a heavy click that sounds like a prison cell locking.
The mysterious client sits in a large leather armchair, legs spread, expensive suit perfectly tailored to his powerful frame. A black mask covers the upper half of his face, but his sharp jaw and dark eyes are visible. He radiates money and danger.
Brittany and I stand in the center of the room, still in our stage outfits — or what’s left of them. My black veil still covers everything except my eyes. Brittany’s torn red bikini top is clutched desperately against her chest.
“Strip,” the client orders, voice low and commanding. “Everything off. Slowly.”
We hesitate. Our eyes meet — pure hatred mixed with something hotter, more
