way.”
~~~~
Chapter Five
Tasha bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling as she looked at Damon and Marco.
Marco wore a black suit with gray dress shirt—the shirt was open down the chest. An untied black necktie dangled from his collar, hinting that he had no intention of using it as an accessory, but rather was willing to take it off at a moment’s notice and use it for bondage. He could as easily have been on his way home from an elegant party or evening at the theater as on his way to a fetish club.
Damon she hadn’t been as kind to. Once she agreed to let them come, she’d run through Marco’s enviably large closet on the second floor master and picked outfits for each man. The easiest way to gain entry to a place was to look the part—that was true of life, not just clubs. Damon could have dressed similarly to Marco, but Tasha wanted to see the aggressive lawyer off-balance. While Marco seemed comfortable in his skin, adapting with relative ease, Damon was like a controlled explosion—each careful word and aggressive action an attempt to impose himself on the world.
Marco stretched his legs out, the limo she’d called giving him the space to do so. “You look good, Damon. I’m going to send a picture to your office.”
“Shut up, asshole,” he mumbled.
Damon wore leather pants that she’d found in the back of Marco’s closet. Nothing but black leather pants. According to the musician, they were from a photo shoot he’d done for one of his albums, where he’d been dressed like a biker while playing the cello. Tasha didn’t admit she knew exactly which album he was talking about—the liner notes, which included photos of Marco shirtless with a tattoo of music notes across his back, and another of him with his eyes closed, his face streaked by grease as he cradled the neck of his cello—had caused her to have more than a few fantasies.
Damon’s bare upper body showed off skin that was golden where Marco’s was pale, his muscles hard swells under that bronzed flesh. Tasha had used some black stage make-up she always carried to add dark streaks to his hair.
The limo pulled to a stop.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, sliding out. The driver was someone she’d worked with before and knew better than to turn off the car while she ran in to the adult store.
At this time of night, it was mostly men perusing porn DVDs and fleshlights, though this was one of the best sex shops in the city and carried only a limited supply of cheap porn. Tasha ignored their come-ons and grabbed what she needed, plus a few extras.
Ten minutes later, she was back in the limo. Marco and Damon both watched her attentively as she dropped into a seat.
“What did you get?” Marco asked. “I didn’t know this place existed.” He was peering curiously out the window.
“Masks for you.” She pulled out the shaped leather half-masks and passed them out. “You won’t be able to put them on until we’re inside, but do it as soon as we’re in.”
Next she took out a leather motorcycle vest. It had cost nearly five hundred dollars, but the large circular symbol on the back made it worth it. She handed it to Damon. It would have been fun to make him go in half naked, but his discomfort might give them away. Better to give him more clothes and make sure the op was a success.
“What’s this?” He was holding it up, examining the back.
“That’s the symbol for the BDSM community.”
Damon sighed, then nodded and slipped it on. Tasha eyed him—with the leather vest on and his muscled arms crossed over his chest, he looked dangerous and not at all lawyerly. He looked like the kind of man that would, and could, do serious damage in a fight as well as in the bedroom.
“You look different.” Marco said. “You look like a thug.”
“You look like a gigolo.”
Tasha smiled to herself, enjoying their easy banter. It was clear the men loved each other. She doubted they’d classify