Cruising the Strip by Radclyffe, Karin Kallmaker Read Free Book Online Page A

killer high heel, the blonde pushed the door closed, breaking the spell.
    Tendra dug in her pocket for the business card-sized invite to the vendor’s hospitality suite. Maybe it had been a mistake to treat herself to a day without her contact lenses. Holding the card as far away as she could, Tendra thought it said suite fifteen hundred, but that’s where she was, and, well, the displays of certain items she could see through the other bedroom door weren’t the kind of accessories used in patient treatment.
    Her heart pounding in an erratic rhythm, she forced herself to stop looking at the coils of soft white rope, the gloves with everything from faux claws to sandpaper on the fingertips, and leather buckled items made to restrain any part of the human body. Peering at the card, she decided it must say suite sixteen hundred, and she turned toward the door.
    “Can I help you?” The soft voice stopped Tendra in her tracks.
    She knew it had to be the blonde before she even turned around. “No, but thanks. I know where I’m supposed to be.”
    Crystal green eyes appraised her coolly, though Tendra detected a hint of humor. “You’re not the first person to get the wrong floor. You don’t look like a doctor.”
    “You don’t look like an…escort.” At least not in the street appropriate black slacks and simple silk tee, Tendra could have added.
    The eyes darkened. “Are you trying to insult me?”
    “No more than you were me.” Tendra shrugged. “I’m five years older than I look, and no, I don’t stand on a box in the operating room.” She was used to being shorter than her colleagues, and it was no surprise that as petite as the blonde was, she was still an inch or so taller than Tendra was.
    “I run a cyber-escort service, and no, I don’t fuck men for money.”
    Tendra gave a little nod. Her brain was too fogged and tired to exchange barbs and flirtations.
    “I fuck women for fun, though,” the woman added. There was a blatant invitation in her eyes. “You look like you could use some extreme relaxation. If you twist any tighter you’re going to break.”
    Stunned by the woman’s perception, Tendra fumbled for words. “I don’t—I’m just in the wrong—I’m not—”
    “Don’t tell me you’re not into women. Not after the way you looked at me. And at the toy room.”
    “I’m late for drinks—I was meeting someone—”
    The cool, firm voice silenced her. “Have a drink with me in my room.”
    Tendra couldn’t believe how much she was tempted. She hadn’t had a sexual impulse for at least a week, and yet her entire body was screaming yes in seconds. She’d had the psych courses; she knew why she was looking for an escape from life, through any means possible, including far too much Scotch every one of the last seven nights.
    “I’m Vette.” The woman held out her hand, her expression cool except for that lingering gleam of humor in her eyes. “Short for the kind of car I’m sure you’ll someday own.”
    An electric shock ran through Tendra the moment their hands clasped. “Corvettes aren’t really my style.”
    Vette didn’t let go of her hand. “But wouldn’t you like to drive one, just once?”
    She knew the color was draining out of her face. Blood was rushing to her sex, which was swelling and pulsing like a second heart. She had resented having to come to this convention instead of taking a badly needed few days off. Her mentor Reilly had said she would be better for the distraction, but Reilly had Liz, and that made her outlook on life a lot rosier than it used to be. Distractions? Tendra hadn’t arrived here wanting more than a steady supply of Scotch and a lot of sleep.
    Vette moved just a little closer, still holding Tendra’s hand. “Actually, they say a Corvette isn’t a car you drive. It’s a car that drives you.”
    She trembled, unable to breathe. The woman’s eyes were mesmerizing and Tendra felt as if a spell were stealing over her, and she was