Page 14 of Watch Me

Gently, I wrap my hand around her elbow. “Would seeing the room and all the places Del can hide so he can catch this bastard help you decide?”

My business partner sends me a knowing smile.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, but maybe if I see the room, something will occur to me.”

“You two come up with the plan and let me know. I need to get back to my…company.” Del claps me on the back, kisses Shanna’s hand, and disappears upstairs.

In the charged silence, I lead Shanna down a hall and up another set of stairs, to the playrooms. At the second door on the left, I pause and ease it open…

8

Inside, a handful of comfortable chairs and a long, cushy sofa take up the foreground of the shadowy space, which overlooks the stage beyond. Currently, the room is devoid of guests, but muted emergency lights shining from the ceiling reveal the center of attention—a sleek bed with four chrome posts and matching restraints.

“Oh,” Shanna gasps out beside me.

I love that she’s shocked.

I’d bet this week’s take that she's envisioning herself on that stage, her pussy shoved full of my cock—and a rapt audience watching. I’d bet next week’s take that she’s incredibly aroused.

“Other members sit here”—I point to the nearby seating—“or look through the windows at the far end of the room and watch the scene.” I point. “From the clip you showed me, I suspect your blackmailer sat in the room, here.” I point to a small chair in the shadows, a mere three feet from the end of the bed. “He likely used a zoom lens to get the tight penetration shots. We’ll know for sure when we catch him.”

“Of course.” The warble in her voice sounds even more pronounced.

I smile to myself as I turn and point to a bare wall. “Through here is a doorway, accessible only from the security area. See, no knob on this side. We can position the cameras to watch this chair. Del can either monitor the room from the bank of cameras or from one of the other chairs in the corner.”

“If you have security cameras viewing this room, can’t you just review your existing footage and see if anyone held a video camera during the scene in question?”

I shake my head. “The cameras are focused on the action on stage. Our primary concern is the safety of the players. We make sure everything that happens on stage is consensual. If there’s even a hint that something isn’t, we stop the scene. But we don’t regularly monitor the audience. So, in order to catch your blackmailer, we’ll have to change the camera positioning for your scene. And I’ll protect you.”

“I didn’t agree to…perform, much less with you.”

Not yet, but she will. “Hmm.”

“Besides, won’t the blackmailer be able to spot Del if he’s in one of those chairs?” She gestures across the room.

“Come with me.” I offer my hand to her.

Shanna looks at it, then at me, eyes wide. Reluctantly, she places her fingers in mine. She’s shaking, and that chink in her armor is heady. I repress a smile.

At her touch, sparks dance across my palm and down my fingers.Dios, I can hardly wait to get my hands on this woman. To get inside her. To make her come apart for me.

For now, I lead her across the room, to a dark pair of padded armchairs. I gesture for Shanna to sit in one. I settle into the other beside her. She thinks we're trying the room out, looking for vantage points. I have other ideas…

“In this corner, the light is too dim for anyone in the audience to discern more than a shadow. Players cannot see back in thiscorner. So, it’s a good place for Del to hide, if you want him nearby.”

“It is dark,” she concedes. “But I still didn’t agree.”

She will.

A click and a whoosh later, the players’ stage door opens. I glance at my watch. Noon. Right on time.

Excellent.

In walks a big barrel of a man dressed in leather pants, a half mask—and nothing else. Tattoos form a colorful sleeve down his beefy arm. In his hand, he clutches a petite redhead’s fingers and guides her to the bed. She wears a flowing, floral skirt that ends at mid-thigh, a button-down blouse in a soft ivory, and a pair of pink high-heeled sandals. She looks as if she’s come from one of the office buildings down the street for her lunch hour.

“Are you wearing a bra, slut?” the man with her asks.

“No, Master.”

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