Dark Ink Tattoo: Ep 3 by Cassie Alexander Read Free Book Online Page A

As always,” Fran said, coming into the room she’d led me to.
    “This is what I’m wearing in their fantasy?” I found that hard to believe.
    “Don’t worry, it doesn’t have to stay on long.”
    A bed occupied the center of the room, neatly made with nice sheets, a nightstand on each side, and a leather chair sat in the corner.
    “Is that where he’s going to be?”
    “No. I’ve arranged the cameras for him –“ she pointed at the ceiling, where small red lights shone.
    “Is he up there already?”
    “Ready and waiting.”
    I strode over to the chair, sat down, slung a leg over an arm, and looked up at the nearest camera. “Thanks for letting me fuck your wife,” I said loudly.
    “Jack!” Franny protested.
    I gave her a bemused look. “That’s what he wants, isn’t it?”
    “You are incorrigible.” She put her hands on her hips, surveyed the room, and then nodded to herself, satisfied. I was glad one of us was. I watched her walk out.
    * * *
    Living in Vegas I was well aware of all the different ways that sex could be transactional, from the brothels far outside of town, the card-clickers on the corners creating litter, the vast abyss of the internet. Anything from a blow-job to an orgy could be bought here, including, apparently, me.
    I was slouching into the chair, trying to look like I did this sort of thing all the time, when she walked in.
    She was as tall as I was, thin and angular like a ballerina, her chest almost flat. Her hair was in a flapper-ish dark brown bob – all the better to be out of children’s sticky hands. She had on khaki trousers and, I swear to god, a mint green sweater set, pearl buttons clasped all the way up. There was a ring on her finger, and her thin lips were pulled into a worried line. She stood just inside the doorway, and I could feel her judging me.
    Time to cut to the chase. “Is this really your idea of a good time?” It was easy for me to act like I didn’t care, because I honestly didn’t -- after the bleeding I’d taken Franny had tanked me half-a-pint up.
    Her lips quirked and her eyes narrowed. “Is it yours?”
    I tilted my head and let my eyes roam her body. Everything about her said control-control-control . Her hair was precise, her clothing the kind that old money wore, her children likely headed to Ivy Leagues. To break a woman like that -- let it never be said that I shirked a challenge. “It could be.” I unslung my leg, but kept myself relaxed. “So what’ve you and he negotiated? What’s he want to see down here?”
    “Me. Being with some other man.” Her jaw clenched a little, and she glanced at the floor, before remembering her pride and glaring back up.
    “That’s it?”
    She swallowed and nodded.
    “There’s a lot of some other men in the world. Which one would you like?”
    I hadn’t moved a muscle, nor was I going to, until I’d sussed her out.
    “I – I don’t know.”
    I made a thoughtful noise, then played for the camera. “Then let’s talk about that. Because I do like the idea of him up there, watching helplessly, as I ravage his beautiful wife – the one that no one would ever imagine cheating on him. But if she were ever going too –“ I let my voice drift and kept watching her intently.
    “Should I be a man who picked you up someplace plain? Like the grocery store? You and I, standing in different isles with a pile of apples between us, and we both look up. Something electric happens then, a charge carried by our eyes, something physical or chemical. You know that I want you, and worse yet, that you want me. You try to ignore it, but you can’t. You look away, but you still see me in your mind. When you look up, I’m gone, but that night you touch yourself, imagining me – knowing, hoping, that somewhere out there I’m stroking myself to my memory of you.”
    I had more than enough blood on board to whammy her, but apart from the fact I wouldn’t have -- I didn’t have to. I could tell she was