“Except you three. And now two boys to protect, as well.”
“We’re a team. We’re going to get her elected.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
“Can’t I?” I tip my head as I study him. “Unless you’re going to suddenly decide not to back her. You and I both know you can sway the entire party to vote for her.”
“I’m not in office any longer.”
“Cut the bullshit, Benchley. You literally know where all the bodies are buried. How many ratfucks do you have waiting in the wings to drop on people who don’t follow your ‘suggestions’ to support her and Owen?”
His gaze narrows as he slowly nods. “You might not be wrong about that.”
“Then let’s work together. We both want her elected governor. Hate me or love me, I honestly don’t give a fuck how you feel about me. All I care about is her happiness, and Owen’s, and that includes our boys.”
“Weareworking together,” he says. “That’s why I’m giving you a chance to cover up your shit instead of hiring someone else to do it and ratfuckingyou.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Benchley. You want me to cover up my own shit soyoudon’t have one more loose end hanging around out there that might come back to biteyou.”
He wears an evil smirk as he sits back in his chair. “Who says you can’t read minds, Carter?”
Chapter Sixteen
Then
I follow my latex-clad wet-dream come true as she winds her way through the diaphanous maze. We arrive at a door on the periphery of the space, probably across the huge room from where the stairs to the first floor are located.
There’s a man sitting on a stool here, and he looks at our wristbands before opening the door for us and allowing us to pass. I realize there are stairs inside, and I gulp what’s left of my soda and drop the cup in the garbage can next to the door before plunging into this stairwell after her.
I follow her up the dimly lit stairs, unable to stop myself from looking up her skirt as we go, but it’s too dark for me to see if she’s wearing panties or not.
My cock is still rock-hard, aching, probably leaving a wet spot in my briefs.
I’ll be damn lucky if I don’t come before we finish climbing these stairs.
Her steps are smooth, measured, confident, her long legs trim and gorgeous, her posture perfect.
Everything about this woman is like something out of one of my darkest fantasies come to life.
It feels like she knows that, too.
The suitcase is heavier than it looks, and I carry it with both hands, using the top and side handles and praying the damn thing doesn’t bust on me and embarrass the hell out of me, or make her mad at me. Behind us, the music from the second floor fades as we approach another door and she opens it, not waiting for me and forcing me to turn and catch it with my side and shoulder or risk it crashing into my face.
This space is still large, but the ceiling is lower than the floors below, maybe ten feet instead of the more cavernous warehouse feel. The lighting is much dimmer, in shades of red and purple, from small lamps on the floor in various places and pointing up at the ceiling, which is painted black.
This space is less populated, but I expected that, too. I had to pay a much more expensive cover charge to get this wristband. Apparently, certain Dominatrixes and Doms are allowed access and get a cut of that extra fee. They draw in more customers for the nightclub.
There are no vertical dividers or curtains in this space, but there are couches, mattresses, spanking benches, and more crosses. Short pieces of iron bar hang from chains in various places, and when I spot a woman whose wrists are attached to one, I realize what they’re for.
The man with her holds a riding crop and is standing in front of her, fucking her as he smacks her ass and backs of her legs with the crop.
I somehow manage not to trip as I follow the woman across the space. There’s a man in a latex hood strapped down to a bench and getting fucked by a Dominatrix wearing a strap-on. I try not to slow down too much as we pass that scene, but I can’t help watching. When the unnamed woman I’m following glances over her shoulder at me, I suspect her path was deliberate to gauge my response.
Yeah, I’m desperately horny now.
Another woman is bent over one end of a couch and being brutally fucked at both ends by two men wearing masks that cover only their eyes. From the welts on her ass, I’d say she’s already had a beating.
All that, and more, I try to take in as I catch up to the woman and realize we’re stopping by a bench similar to the one the man being fucked by the strap-on is restrained to.
