Page 36 of The Perfect Stranger

The music had started—soft, seductive, tonnes of anticipation, expectation. Lights within the glass box began to glow, skin caressed by its warmth. It started at her red stilettoed feet, traveling a path up her long sculptured legs and over her round, pert ass. She had curves in all the right places and they were worth celebrating. The woman wore a lacy thong under a short negligee that sat high on each cheek. The light exposed her tiny waist and perfectly shaped natural c-cups. Her long dark hair flowed in waves, gliding around her small shoulders as she moved to the music.

She found this easy, dancing for an unknown behind a pane of glass. She moved with such grace, it was obvious why a man of Luis Santos’s status enjoyed this particular beauty.

My finger hit the speaker on the arm rest. “Stop what you’re doing.”

My voice pulled her free, back to reality. She wasn’t startled, most likely used to men delivering special requests. However, my request would be vastly different to the ones she was used to. Ana paused, waiting for further instruction, pretty eyes searching the darkness ahead of her. Santos’s choice was a beauty. A perfectly sculptured face with large beguiling eyes.

“Exit the box and come to me.”

She grew nervous, tongue darting over her deep red lips. No doubt these requests never ended well for her.

“Por favor,” I added, and she frowned the slightest degree at the courtesy.

Abiding client requests, she turned and opened a narrow door to the left. For a moment, she was out of view before emerging from the shadows. She stopped just shy of my feet and hooked her hands around my neck. Her perfume was sweet, intoxicating.

“What would you like me to do, señor?” she purred.

Gently clasping her wrists, I pulled them away. “I don’t need a show.”

She stood tall, fighting the urge to be offended. “What do you want? I’m not a prostitute, I don’t give sex.”

“I don’t want that either.”

“Then?”

“Can you sit?”

Taking a step back she scanned the room, empty bar the one seat.

“There’s a chair behind the curtain.”

She sashayed away and returned a few moments later with the bespoke chair. She sat opposite and waited, her long red nail tapping on her knee.

“Ana…” I started, “…forgive me if this comes across as a little strange given the place we’re in, but I’d prefer if we just talked.”

“It is strange,” she agreed. “Most men are here to enjoy the show. But you don’t seem interested.”

“You are very beautiful. You don’t need to remove any more clothing for me to appreciate that.” She nodded, seemingly grateful for the gesture. “How did you end up in a place like this?” As if I had slapped her hard, Ana’s eyes widened in panic.

“Is there something—”

She got to her feet and rushed forward, an index finger glued to her lips to silence me. Her face was only an inch away from mine, but she didn’t need to talk to tell me what was happening. Taking my hand, she led me to the glass box. Once inside, she turned, arms crossed.

“Who are you really?” Her accent thickened in her haste.

“Antonio Suárez. I work for Gabriel.”

“You don’t look like you belong in this world.” Her eyes softened and her shoulders relaxed. Ana didn’t see me as a threat, and in a way, it felt like she could see my secrets without me having to reveal them.

“People who talk in this place end up dead,” she continued, “So why are you interesting in talking?”

I cast a cautious glance around the box looking for anything that might pose as a bug.

“You’re safe in here.”

“How can you be so sure?” I slid my hand around the top joins.

“I know this box better than anyone,” she said dryly. “Out there…” she pointed to where I was sitting, “…out there is full of them.”

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