Beneath The Pearl Ch. 03

Chapter Three

The Deal

Why is it so noisy in here?

Lara noticed several things all at once as consciousness flowed back into her. The first was that she was lying flat on her back on something soft, and she had a splitting headache. The next was that she was having trouble swallowing and that it hurt to try. The third was that there were loud voices right next to her. She found them intensely irritating. They were doing nothing to help the pain in her head.

"Why the fuck was he not in cuffs?" a loud male voice said.

"I was trying to make him comfortable. Look, it was a mistake, but...." a woman replied.

"You're goddamn right it was! I told you something like this might happen. I never should have allowed this!"

"Let's not get carried away here. She has a pulse and she is breathing. She's fine."

"She hasn't woken up yet! Neither of us has a clue whether she's okay or not. Look at her neck! And where the hell are the paramedics? Fuck this, I'm going to find them myself."

Lara heard a loud clang that sounded like a door closing. Opening her eyes slowly, she winced at the blinding lights above her head. At least, they felt blinding. She held out her hand in front of her face to block some of the harshness of the light as she squinted to take in her surroundings.

She was on a couch, in what looked like an office of some kind. Precise details of the surrounding objects eluded her. Her vision was blurry. What she could see quite clearly was Lucia standing at her side. The agent had her hand to her temple and appeared to be massaging it while staring at the door.

"Lucia?" Lara croaked.

"Lara! Fantastic," Lucia said as she crouched down beside the couch. "We need to get our story straight before Mike comes back, okay?" she added hastily.

"What happened?" Lara asked groggily as she tried to sit up to face her. She still couldn't see very well.

"Price attacked you during.... well, you know. We must have been making a lot of noise because before I could step in and stop him, Mike and a bunch of officers burst through the door and tackled him to the ground," Lucia told her softly but at a quick tempo.

Memories of the incident slowly began to form in Lara's mind. The interview with Price. Lucia's blackmail. Blowing Price. And then his hands around her throat.

"Fuck, my head is killing me," Lara said, her normally silky voice now distinctly gravelly.

"I'll get you a couple of Tylenol in a minute, but it's important that we are on the same page here. Let's not mention the little.... agreement we made with Price. There is no need to muddy things. He asked for sex. We both said no, and then he attacked us, okay? That's what happened," Lucia said.

"Can we do this later?" Lara said. All she felt like doing was going back to sleep.

"Listen to me, Lara! Price had his pants around his ankles when Mike and the other officers intervened. There are going to be questions. I've already told them that nothing sexual happened. I cleaned up your makeup a little, so if you are convincing, they'll believe it. He whipped it out, you said no, and then he lunged at you. It's best for everyone that you say the same thing," Lucia said, leaning forward and locking eyes with Lara.

"Best for everyone?" Lara asked.

"Best for everyone," Lucia repeated.

Lara's vision was slowly returning to normal, and her brain was beginning to unfog the longer they talked. As such, she knew what Lucia was alluding to.

She means Alan. 'Everyone' means Alan, Lara realized. Play ball and repeat my bullshit story, or he'll pay the price.

Before she could answer, the door was flung back open, and she saw Mike hurry into the room, followed by two more men in navy uniforms with medical equipment in tow.

"Lara! Thank God. Are you okay? How do you feel?" Mike blurted out as he rushed to her.

"Give us some room, Detective," the paramedic behind him said.

"Right. Sorry," Mike said as he backed away.

"How long was she unconscious?" the paramedic asked.

"Two, maybe three minutes," Lucia answered as the man kneeled down in front of Lara and started to examine her with his gloved hands.

"Ma'am, what is your name?"

"Lara."

"And do you know where we are?" he asked.

"The police station," Lara answered.

"And who is the president?"

"Jed Bartlet."

The two paramedics and Lucia all gave each other worried glances, but Mike just started to chuckle. "She's fucking with us," Mike said, shaking his head while laughing. He looked relieved at her answer.

"How? Who is he?" Lucia asked.

"The fictional president from The West Wing. It's a TV show," Mike explained.

"I binged it last year. I'd have voted for him," Lara said before she coughed several times.

"The fact that I'm the only one in the room who knew what you were talking about makes me feel old," Mike said.

"You are old."

"I'm thirty-two, Lara!"

"That's a nine-year gap between us, you fossil. I wasn't even born when it started to air. Was it in black and white when you first saw it?" Lara asked him with a wicked smile.

"Let's leave the jokes for a moment. Lara, I'd feel more comfortable with the actual answer. Who is the president?" the lead paramedic reiterated before Mike could fire back.

"Donald Trump. Relax, everyone. I'm not brain-damaged. No more than before, anyway," Lara said.

"Lara, what the hell happened in there?" Mike asked.

"Mike, I already told you. Price just...." Lucia started to say before Mike's sharp glare stopped her in her tracks.

Lara looked from Mike to Lucia as she pondered how to answer. She knew that if she told the truth, Lucia was in deep shit. The truth was scandalous. But would Lucia's superiors even believe it? It would be her word, the word of an ex-stripper, versus that of a decorated DEA agent. Mike would take her at her word, of course. There was no question there. But would the higher-ups? Doubtful. They'd think she was lying.

Still, even if they didn't believe that Lucia had blackmailed Lara into performing oral sex on Price, she had allowed an unrestrained prisoner to assault a civilian. That fact alone would torpedo her career, or at least set it back years. She could see the fear in Lucia's eyes as they stared at each other.

Part of her wanted to do it. Out the bitch. She deserved it. But another part knew what it would mean for Alan. Lucia would go scorched earth. She'd carry out her threat. The saying that a lie could travel halfway around the world before the truth had time to put its pants on was an apt one. In a maximum-security prison, the false idea that Alan was a child molester would get him killed before she could help him. And so, she went with the only viable option in front of her.

"It's like Lucia said. During the interview, he started to demand sex. He said he was owed it for his cooperation. When I turned him down, he got violent," Lara said, her gaze not leaving Lucia's for an instant while she told the lie.

"Motherfucker!" Mike practically spat.

"We were lucky you were close by," Lucia said, flashing him a big smile, which he did not return.

"I should have been in the damned room," Mike said, giving her another withering look, which curtailed her smile.

As the silence in the room lingered, the door opened once more, and a uniformed officer leaned his body through the threshold.

"Agent Mendez? Chief Willis sent me to find you. He'd like a word in his office when you get a moment," the officer said.

"I don't answer to him," Lucia said with a scowl.

Lara's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the open and quite public display of hostility. Clearly, the interview with Price not going as planned, coupled with Mike's anger toward her, was getting the best of the normally composed woman. Even so, Lara saw her professional demeanor snap back into place after a beat.

"But I can, of course, take the time to fill him in on my progress," Lucia said as she gave Lara and Mike a cursory nod before striding gracefully toward the door and exiting the office.

"I think I'm going to head home and lie down. My head hurts," Lara said, rubbing her temples with her thumb and forefinger.

"I don't think that's a good idea. You have some bruising, along with some petechial hemorrhaging, and if you do have a headache, I think it would be best for you to come get checked out, just to be on the safe side," the lead paramedic told her.

"I don't think it's really necessary," Lara said, feeling no desire to spend all day in a hospital. Not to mention that the expensive bill that would follow was one she could do without.

"Just humor them, Lara. Just to be safe, like he said, okay?" Mike implored her. She nodded reluctantly.

Mike stared at the deep bruising on her neck as the paramedics helped Lara up off the couch.

I think I'm long overdue for some alone time with former Captain Edward Price....

***

Mike walked briskly through the holding area of the police station as he tried to keep himself calm and his blood pressure from spiking.

He had been relieved that Lara appeared to be fine, but that temporary abatement of his anger was now gone. He was back to being furious. At Lucia, for not heeding his advice and for taking Price so lightly. At himself, for letting her talk him into sitting out the interview. And at Price, for once again proving what a piece of shit he was. The last time something like this had happened, with Jo, Mike had taken the high road. Not this time.

Several months after Price's arrest, Jo had finally told him some of the details of Price's sexual assault on her. Mike had wanted to pursue it. He had wanted to add it to the list of charges Price was facing. Jo had been adamant; she wasn't coming forward. She had argued that Mike didn't understand what it meant to be a woman in a male-dominated job. If she came forward, she'd forever be seen by her peers on the force as a victim. She had told him that it was ultimately her choice and that he had to respect that. Besides, Price was guilty of a litany of crimes. According to Jo, one more charge wouldn't make a difference. Mike had disagreed but respected her wishes. But the fucker had tried again, this time with Lara and Lucia.

I'm not letting it go unanswered this time around.

The police station had several heavy-duty holding cells, and as he passed them, he wondered which one Price had been placed in. He figured he'd find out soon enough. As he rounded the corner, he spotted the gargantuan, oversized metal desk where the watch commander was supposed to be stationed.

Mike was not surprised to see only a single man sitting at the two-man desk; in fact, he'd been counting on it. He recognized the sole occupant manning the desk as Officer Jones, although "man" might be pushing it. He was clean-shaven and baby-faced, and Mike knew he had less than two years on the job.

"Afternoon, Detective. What can I do for you?" Jones asked as Mike reached the desk, which was filled to capacity with live monitors.

"I need to speak to Sergeant Doakes. Why isn't he here?" Mike asked, already knowing the answer.

"Um.... he was called away suddenly. He got a call from his wife," Jones said, entirely unconvincing in his lie.

"It must have been quite the emergency. I hope everything is okay," Mike said, faking concern.

Of course, Mike knew everything was completely fine. He, like half the officers in the building, knew Sergeant Doakes had a weakness for horse-race betting. Also, for betting on football. Or basketball. Or hockey. Or basically any sport or game in existence that you could bet money on.

Mike was well aware of Doakes' frequent trips to the local bookie, where he often dropped large sums of money to satisfy his habit. All in cash, of course, to hide it from his wife. Doakes was well liked, which was why, presumably, he had never been ratted out to the chief. Mike had his suspicions that the chief already knew and was turning a blind eye. Regardless, Sergeant Doakes' absence was expected and more than welcome for what Mike needed.

"I'm sure he'll be back soon. Do you want me to give him a message?" Jones asked, seemingly less bothered by being relegated to the role of secretary and more concerned about getting Doakes and himself into trouble.

"Well, he left you here alone, and against protocol. He must trust you. You can help me instead. Which cell is Price in?" Mike asked.

"Number four," Jones answered.

"Great. I need you to open it for me," Mike said.

"Uh.... Detective, technically, the only person allowed to do that is the watch commander, and unless I have confirmation from the chief or it's a medical emergency, I'm not supposed to open the cells on my own."

"But you said it yourself, son, Sergeant Doakes isn't here. Maybe I should call his wife and find out when he'll be back?" Mike suggested as he took his phone out of his pocket and made a show of tapping it a few times.

Jones stood up from his chair in a panic and reached over to a transparent lockbox containing several keys. "No, no. That won't be necessary. Let's not disturb them. I can do it for you. Price, right? Cell four?" Jones said, babbling quickly as he collected the right key.

Mike tried to suppress a smile as the pair walked down the hall to the correct cell. Jones put the brass key into the thick lock and swung open the door.

Both men entered the cell to see Price sitting in cuffs on the metal bed. The room was practically empty, with no furniture of any kind. There was no toilet or sink. It was four walls and a long stainless steel sheet running parallel to the left wall that served as a bed with no bedding material present. The room was purely for holding people, rarely more than twenty-four hours, and as such was as perfunctory as possible.

Price looked up and smiled at both men. "Deputy Jones! How nice to see you again. How long has it been?"

"Over a year, sir. And it's 'Officer' Jones now. I transferred here a few months back," Jones said.

"You don't have to call him 'sir.' He's not a cop anymore," Mike told Jones.

"I will always be a Captain," Price said as he stood up, glaring at Mike before returning his attention to Jones. "I remember that you always showed the proper respect. I thought you were a fine young man during our training exercises together."

Jones' face changed, and his eyebrows furrowed as he answered. "Only it wasn't a training exercise, was it? You were moving guns and using me to help you do it."

"Nonsense! Trumped-up charges concocted by this jealous, corrupt coward standing beside you!" Price replied.

"They thought I was in on it," Jones continued. "They grilled me over and over. It was months before they finally cleared me, but the damage was done. The stink never went away. I kept getting looks. That's why I had to leave the sheriff's office and come here, to get away from it. To have a fresh start."

Mike spoke up before Price could respond. "Do you have the keys to his cuffs?"

"Yes, right here."

"Open them, please," Mike commanded.

Jones stepped forward and worked to remove the handcuffs from Price.

"What's going on here? Am I being moved?" Price said, looking nervous as the cuffs were released.

"You can wait outside now, Jones. Close the door behind you. I'll knock when I'm ready," Mike told the man.

"Detective, I'm afraid I can't do that. We work a two-man system. Nobody is alone in a cell with a suspect. It's procedure."

"He's not a suspect. He's a convicted felon. And I want a few words alone with him," Mike said.

"Don't listen to him, son! Follow procedure!" Price said imploringly to Jones.

Jones pursed his lips as his mind worked through the possibilities. He was clearly trying to figure out which option was worse. Earning the wrath of the detective versus potentially getting into trouble for not following protocol. He looked from Price to Mike and then back to Price again, catching the fear in the mustached man's eyes. Jones abruptly realized what was about to happen.

And to his surprise, he found he was okay with it.

"I'll be right outside, Detective," Jones said to Mike as he moved toward the door. His eyes locked with Price's, and he smiled as he started to close the weighty door. "Good to see you again.... sir."

The door closed with a heavy-sounding thunk, and the pair were now alone in the small cell. There wasn't much room left due to the stature of the two men.

Price was the taller of the two, far exceeding six feet and having several inches in advantage over Mike. Yet, even with the height and added muscle that Price had packed on while on the inside, he still appeared the smaller man due to Mike's broad frame.

Mike's colleagues often jokingly referred to him as "Arnie" on account of his massive arms and tree-trunk-sized legs, the result of his youth spent wrestling for his high school and, more recently, almost daily trips to the gym. And so, even though Price had the advantage of looking down on Mike, it was he who appeared thoroughly uncomfortable at the situation he found himself in.

"You made a big mistake today, you know. Attacking a civilian and an agent of the DEA? That's aggravated assault," Mike said as he unclasped his watch from his wrist and placed it in his pocket.

"Assault?" Price scoffed. "I didn't assault anybody. The whore was begging to suck my cock the moment she came into the room. I gave her exactly what she wanted. As for Lucia, it was a love tap. Nothing more. Just to put her in her place."

"Well, you might find your place in the pen more permanent after what you just did," Mike said.

"Horseshit. Mendez needs me. She needs what I know. She isn't going to blow up my deal, no matter what I do."

Price stared as Mike began to unbutton his own cuffs and then methodically roll his shirt sleeve up one arm.

"You can stop with the theatrics, Hawthorne. This is all a bit performative. You're a boy scout. As straight as they come. If this act is designed to scare me, you'll have to do better. A lot better than this," Price said, his worried face not matching his words.

Mike ignored him and moved to his other arm. Price tried another tactic instead.

"How's the little woman these days?" Price said, filling the dead air between them. "I hear she's pregnant. You know, Jo practically threw herself at me during your little investigation. I fucked her good and hard. She certainly does get around. Are you sure it's yours?"

Mike didn't react. His face remained unmoved. Now finished with his sleeves, he took a step toward Price.

"Come now, Detective. We both know you aren't going to...." Price started to say before Mike's right fist connected flush with Price's jaw.

Price's head snapped back like a rubber band as he stumbled backward and hit the far wall of the cell. He slumped to the floor in a daze. Then he stared up at Mike with a shocked look on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"Get up. Get up, you motherfucker," Mike shouted at Price, taking up an orthodox fighting stance.

Price staggered a bit as he got to his feet, his eyes filled with rage and his hand cradling his jaw. Moving forward, he swung a powerful but telegraphed looping haymaker at Mike's head. Mike rocked his head back, the punch catching nothing but air as it whistled past his ear.

The wild punch left Price wide open. Mike took full advantage by snapping a hard, straight right hand that exploded on Price's nose. There was a loud crunching sound as cartilage gave way and a spray of blood erupted from Price's nostrils. Mike followed up with a low and vicious left hook, burying his knuckles into the soft tissue just below the ribcage of the former captain.

The two-punch combination stole Price's breath as he doubled over with a strangled gasp. With a big inhale, Price straightened up and, in apparent desperation, put everything he had into another all-out overhand punch.

Mike lowered his head, dipping below the attack. He drove forward like a bull, his wrestling instincts kicking in. He wrapped his arms around both of Price's legs in a perfect double-leg takedown and hoisted the taller man off his feet for a split second before slamming him backward onto the concrete floor.

The impact echoed in the small cell, a sickening crash of flesh and bone meeting the unforgiving floor. Price lay on his back, trying and failing to pull air into his lungs. He made a series of high-pitched, wheezing gasps as he struggled to breathe.

Mike stood over him, his own chest heaving, not from exertion, but from his adrenaline spiking. He wasn't sure if it had been the left hook to the body, or the slam onto the ground. Either way, Mike was confident he had done some damage. From the wheezing, he guessed Price had sustained a collapsed lung. Mike didn't believe in karma, but he had to admit the symmetry was satisfying.

"Having trouble breathing, Eddie?" Mike asked, his voice low but clear. "Good. Now you know how it feels."

"They'll.... bury you.... for this," Price struggled to get out.

"I doubt it. You have no friends left here, Price. The chief cleaned house following your arrest. A complete purge of all your buddies. The ones he couldn't fire, he transferred out. So, nobody is left to go to bat for you. I'll be fine. I might get chewed out a little, but I can deal with that. The worst I'll get is an official reprimand, and believe me, it was worth it. I'd be more worried about what's next for you. About what I'm going to do next," Mike said.

"What do you mean?" Price asked between short, sharp breaths.

"Deal or no deal with the DEA, right now you go back to the pen. Only you aren't going back to your cell in Ad-Seg. I'm calling in some favors. You're going back to GenPop," Mike said with a sinister smirk.

Price's eyes widened in absolute terror. "You can't! The last time.... I was nearly...." Price said before coughing violently.

Mike finished the thought for him. "I know. You got shivved, right? Not too surprising, to be honest. Cops don't do so well once word gets out."

"They'll kill me!" Price whined.

"Tell me why I should give a shit? Tell me why I shouldn't sit back and let them put an end to your sorry excuse for a life," Mike spat back.

"I'll talk. I swear. I'll.... I'll tell Mendez everything," Price said as he tried and failed to lift himself off the floor.

"You're damned fucking right you will! Every little thing you know about Gambini and his operation. All of it. If Lucia asks you anything she wants to know, you cough it up. And if I find out that you have held anything back...."

"I won't."

"You better fucking not. The ledger too. The one you have hidden away. Where is it?" Mike asked.

"A safe deposit box," Price said, having finally managed to haul himself up and onto the steel bed.

"Bullshit. You've been locked up. Who has been paying for it while you have been inside?" Mike asked, not believing his story.

"I didn't rent it. I bought the box. The key is hidden in my house. I'll tell her where it is," Price said, still gurgling as he breathed between sentences.

"Remember what I'll do if you don't. Oh, and one other thing. Lara is off-limits. For good. You don't try to contact her, or to talk to her. Ever again. Got it?" Mike said as he leaned down to within a few inches of Price's face.

Price averted his eyes and gave a weak nod. Mike walked back to the door and slammed his open palm on it three times. The door swung open, and Mike stepped past Officer Jones as he exited the cell.

"The Captain fell and hurt himself. He might need medical attention. No rush, though," Mike said.

Jones responded with a wry smile. "Sure thing, Detective. I'll get right on that."

***

Mike used his middle finger to scroll the mouse wheel down several times as he flew through the pages on the computer screen in front of him. There was a lot of information to get through.

It had been four days since Price's interview and his attack on Lara and Lucia. Mike's "encounter" with Price in his cell had borne some fruit. Following Mike's threat to him, Lucia had performed two more lengthy interviews with the man, this time on camera and with him in shackles. He had been much more forthcoming than before.

The ex-cop had kept his word, likely through fear of what Mike would do if he didn't. It seemed Price weighed the prospect of serving out his time in his mansion under house arrest versus getting stabbed by some angry convicts and decided he preferred the former.

He'd also handed over the ledger. They had scanned the entire book, and it was now digitally stored on their server. That was what Mike was perusing at this very moment.

Mike was shocked at how thorough it was. Price had recorded names and bribe amounts, all neatly documented. That had been expected, but the ledger also contained detailed accounts of meetings and encounters with all manner of criminals, from Dave Miller to Salvatore Gambini and a bunch of other names Mike didn't recognize.

It was almost like a diary. He now understood why Price had gone to so much trouble to hide it. It could be used to control Price himself just as easily as it could be used to blackmail all the criminals in the ledger.

He checked the time in the bottom corner of the computer screen. It was late. He really should be heading home. He glanced around him at all the other desks. They were all empty.

I'm the only one stupid enough to still be here at this time of night. He suddenly felt guilty for leaving Jo alone. I should go spend some time with her.

"Earth to Mike," a voice called to him. "Come in, Mike."

He swiveled in his chair to watch Lucia as she walked up to his desk from behind him. "I read you loud and clear. Although I really shouldn't still be reading. You or the computer. If either of us were sane, we'd be at home," Mike told her.

"True. I guess you couldn't stop reading it either," Lucia said with a nod toward his screen.

"Price certainly went into detail, didn't he?" Mike suggested.

"Yeah. That ledger is just what we needed. And I have a feeling you had something to do with him finally handing it over," Lucia said.

"I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about," Mike said with a hint of a smirk.

"Well, I appreciate whatever it is you didn't do. Thank you, Mike," Lucia said while taking a step closer to him as he sat in his office chair. "And about what happened. I should have listened to you. You've known Price longer than I have."

"It's your case. I understand you wanted to do it yourself. And despite how it went down, I do owe you an apology. I shouldn't have been so short with you after it happened. I was just so angry at myself for not being there for you and Lara. He attacked you too, and I was a dick about it. I never even asked if you were okay," Mike said, shaking his head.

"I did hit my head pretty hard against the wall. I've had a few dizzy spells since, but I'm sure I'll be fine in a few days," Lucia said.

"You should see a doctor, Lucia. Don't take any chances. It's what I said to Lara. Better to be safe than sorry," Mike said, looking concerned.

"You were right to insist she go to the hospital. Lara isn't used to this sort of thing. I'm made of sterner stuff," Lucia said, as she put one hand on the desk and bent forward at the waist to peer past him toward the computer monitor. "Which part are you reading?"

"Uh.... Price is talking about an encounter he had with Gambini's right-hand man. A guy called Marco. He didn't think much of him, by all accounts," Mike said, somewhat distractedly.

Now that Lucia had leaned forward, Mike had a clear view down her top. He couldn't help but stare. The view was impressive. Her tanned breasts were large yet shapely, pressed together by the low cut of her bra, creating a deep valley that drew his eyes in. He could see the swell of them, the soft curves almost enticing him to lean in. He felt himself swallow as he focused on them.

"Looks good, right?"

"Huh?" Mike sputtered as his eyes shot to Lucia's face. She was looking straight at him.

"Price's ledger. It looks good, doesn't it?" Lucia asked him.

"Oh, yeah. Very informative," Mike said, hoping she hadn't noticed him staring at her chest.

"I haven't gotten through it all yet, but I was surprised at how detailed it is so far," Lucia said.

"He writes like a girl," Mike said offhandedly.

"Does he? How does one 'write like a girl,' exactly, Detective?" Lucia said, as she turned toward him, a playful smile evident on her lips.

"Flowery, I suppose? I'm not trying to be sexist or anything, but come on, Lucia. He was a middle-aged cop. You've got to admit, there are parts of this thing that read like they were written by a teenage girl," Mike said, trying to recover from his faux pas.

"Okay. It is a bit bitchy in parts. You may have a point," Lucia answered with a chuckle.

She moved her hand from the desk and straightened back up, but as she did it, Mike noticed her stumble, almost as if her balance had deserted her. He reached out to steady her, but she had already landed squarely in his lap, sideways, her arm draping around his neck as she sank into him.

"Had a sudden dizzy spell there. Thanks for the soft landing," Lucia said quietly.

As far as he was concerned, "soft" wasn't the operative word. The material of her pantsuit legs was thin. Mike could feel her ass pressed against his groin as she sat in his lap, and combined with his earlier enjoyment of the view down her top, he was becoming firmly aroused.

Her face was mere inches from his, and he could smell her perfume. It was intoxicating. Mike froze, in part due to shock but also because of embarrassment over his rising "problem." He was sure she could feel it.

I'm a fucking idiot. I berate her in public, then I stare at her tits. Now, I'm pulling her onto my lap. She's going to get the wrong idea. Or file a harassment claim against me.

"Uh, no problem. Happy to help. No, not happy. That's not what I meant. Just that it's good you didn't fall," Mike said.

"Yes. It is. Good," Lucia said, shifting slightly.

In a state of near panic, Mike placed one arm completely around her waist and lifted her as he rose out of the chair. Lucia's eyes went wide in surprise as she found herself airborne for a split second and then gently, but firmly, placed back on her feet.

"Right, well, it's late," Mike said as he turned away from her and shut down his computer.

"Want to get a drink somewhere? We can discuss where to go from here with the case," Lucia suggested.

"Another time. I'd better be getting home. Jo will be wondering where I am," Mike said with an awkward smile as he grabbed his phone from the desk and shuffled away from her. "See you tomorrow, Lucia."

"Have a nice night, Mike," Lucia said sweetly as she watched him amble away from his desk in the bullpen and toward the exit.

Almost.

Lucia collapsed back into his office chair, closed her eyes and sighed.

She'd almost had him. She knew he wanted her. It was only a matter of time. All he needed was the right motivation and the right push.

Lucia caressed her lips with her tongue as she remembered how his cock had felt against her. Hard. Rigid. And large. But the part she'd loved the most, the part that made her wet, was when he had grabbed her and manhandled her off his lap and onto her feet.

She had desperately wanted him to take her. To grab her and throw her onto his desk. To fuck her, hard and fast. For a moment, she thought he was going to do just that. But he had resisted.

This time.

She imagined what it would have been like if he had succumbed to his desire. In her mind, she pictured herself on her back, splayed across his desk as he hurriedly unbuckled his belt. She moaned aloud as she conjured the image of Mike yanking her pants and underwear off, placing her legs over his shoulders and pounding into her. How he would hold her legs high and wide with his powerful arms as he fucked her for all he was worth.

She bit her lip as the fantasy continued, seeing her own hair dangling over the edge of the desk. Her, looking up into his eyes as she lay there, her back scratching and scraping harshly as he thrust into her over and over. She wanted to feel his power, to have him dominate her. To feel the aggressiveness she knew was bubbling beneath the surface.

She was worked up now and needed release. She'd go to the nearest bar and find some. It wouldn't take long. In her experience, it beat any app for efficiency. But before that, she decided to plant the next seed. Lucia picked up her phone and dialed Mike's number. He answered almost immediately.

"Uh, Lucia? Is something wrong?" Mike asked over the phone, clearly confused about why she was calling him after he had just left.

"No, nothing is wrong. I was just hoping you would text me Lara's address? I want to go visit her tomorrow. You know, to see how she is doing and make sure she is okay," Lucia said.

"Sure, I can do that. That's really nice of you, Lucia. I'm sure Lara will be grateful."

***

"Get fucked, Lucia," Lara said, as she stood inside her apartment at the open front door. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I think you might, once you hear what I'm here to discuss," Lucia said.

Lara tried to slam the door closed, but Lucia blocked it with her hand and placed her heeled shoe in the entryway.

"Okay, you're pissed. I don't blame you. But invite me in so we can talk. It's in your own best interest. It's in Alan's too," Lucia added.

"You can threaten me just as easily right here," Lara replied, but her hold on the door softened.

"No threats. I come in peace. This is important and not fit for discussion on your doorstep where anyone might hear."

"Fine. You've got three minutes," Lara said, acquiescing against her better judgment.

She held open the door and allowed Lucia to walk past her. Lara noticed that the woman's hair and makeup looked professionally done, almost as if she was preparing for a photo shoot or a fancy night out.

Her outfit consisted of a simple but expensive, long turquoise-colored coat that reached to below her knees. Lara couldn't tell what she was wearing underneath it. All that was visible from her neck down was the coat, some of her long legs, and finally her heels. They walked together into Lara's living room.

"Nice place. Have you been here long? Oh, that's a nice view!" Lucia said, scanning the room's contents and the far window.

"Two minutes and fifty seconds," Lara said coolly.

"Alright, I'll get right to it. I want to apologize for how I handled things. Springing the situation on you like that, I understand why you reacted the way you did," Lucia said.

"You can shove your apology. You brought me there as a piece of meat. As a sex toy for Price to get what you wanted," Lara said, her lip curling in disgust. "I expect that from men like Price. Getting it from you tells me all I need to know about who you are. You're a traitor to your gender."

Lucia rolled her eyes at the barb. "Oh, come on, Lara. Don't get all sanctimonious on me. I know your history. Bit hypocritical, no? From a sex worker?" Lucia countered.

"I was never a hooker. And you seem to have a problem understanding the difference between choosing to do something and being forced to do something," Lara said.

"Nobody put a gun to your head, Lara. You chose to put his cock in your mouth," Lucia said.

"You're delusional. You threatened to have my boyfriend killed!"

"I think you'll find I did no such thing. Regardless, you swallowed your pride. And him. Price gave up what he knew. It all worked out in the end for everyone, right?" Lucia said brightly.

"Worked out? He could have killed me! Look at my fucking neck!" Lara said, pointing to the faint bruises on her neck that were less pronounced than before, but still visible.

"Bruises fade. But I acknowledge that things could have gone better. And I appreciate you not running to Mike and telling tall tales, so I come bearing gifts. As a 'thank you' of sorts, I pulled some strings and got you a visit with your boyfriend," Lucia said.

"What? When?" Lara asked, unable to quite believe what she had just heard.

"Today. At 4:00 pm sharp. You're welcome," Lucia said with a grin.

Lara spun her head around to check the time on the digital clock next to her fridge.

"I've got to go get ready," Lara said, still somewhat frazzled by the surprising turn of events. She hadn't expected this.

"Wear something slutty for him," Lucia said, still grinning.

"I don't need fashion advice, thank you very much," Lara replied, her tone defensive.

"Suit yourself, but I'm familiar with this sort of thing. Partners and spouses behind bars, if you will. Prison can do a number on a person's morale. If you show up looking like something the cat dragged in, it's not exactly going to lift his spirits, is it? Plus, he's been surrounded by men for a while. Take my advice and get dressed up. Wear something low-cut and show your girls off. Men are simple creatures. Trust me, he'll be thrilled," Lucia said, her tone lofty as if she were giving sage advice.

Lara was loath to admit it, but what Lucia was saying made sense. Still, she had her reservations. "If I'm all dressed up, won't it feel to him as if I'm.... living my life without him?" Lara asked.

"On the contrary, it will remind him what is waiting for him, and it will give him a good image to use when he is alone in his cell," Lucia told her.

"I suppose that tracks," Lara said, nodding.

"Glad I could help."

"This doesn't make us even, you know. Not by a long shot," Lara told her.

"What if I got him out? Free and clear of the whole 'murder charge' mess?" Lucia said.

Lara was stunned into silence.

Did I just hear her right? She's offering to help?

"You could do that?" Lara asked, silently praying that Lucia wasn't bullshitting her.

"Yes. It would take some doing, of course. It's a murder charge. I can't just snap my fingers. I'd have to talk to my superiors and get the green light. It would take a while, too. Our government isn't exactly a well-oiled machine at the moment, not with half the people above me getting fired and replaced every other week. But I can certainly get the ball rolling. If you help me with what I need," Lucia said.

"Help you how, exactly?" Lara asked, her eyes narrowing. Her initial excitement gave way to a strong sense of suspicion.

"Price and his ledger told us a lot about Gambini, his businesses, and how he operates. One thing that was highlighted, though, is that he is pretty well insulated from most of the illegal activities. We have enough to shut some of it down, but he won't be implicated. We can't tie him to it," Lucia explained.

"I don't know how I can help with any of that. I've never even met the man," Lara said.

"My point is that if we are to get anywhere, we need a man inside. Or a woman. Lara, I'm applying for a job at The Pearl as a dancer, using an alias. I'm going to my audition later," Lucia said, opening up her coat to show what she was wearing underneath.

Lara examined the outfit with a professional detachment, assuming Lucia wanted her advice on it because of her experience.

The agent was wearing a striking emerald-green halter top, its straps crossing in an X shape just above and between her large breasts, creating a triangular "window" that revealed her inner contours and cleavage. The straps traced a frame around the exposed skin. Unlike the lifting or compressing effect a corset or push-up bra might have, the halter top accentuated the natural shape of her breasts, only subtly pulling them together. The soft velvet clung to her torso, emphasizing her hourglass figure while leaving her upper back bare. The vibrant green also helped to create a clear contrast against her smooth and tanned skin. Below the top, a matching high-waisted thong with delicate straps crossing her hips completed the bold look.

In truth, it was more akin to nightwear or lingerie. She knew why Lucia had worn the coat on her way over. It wasn't the getup of an amateur but rather that of a seasoned performer. Lara was impressed. She could give her honest opinion.

"Nice choice. It's sexy without being so elaborate or restrictive that you won't be able to move. Have you picked the music yet?"

"Yes, but Lara, that wasn't the sort of help I needed from you. My audition is tonight. After you are finished at the prison, I want you to come with me," Lucia told her.

"For moral support?" Lara asked, confused.

"No. I want you to audition too. To get your old job back. I need you in there with me," Lucia said.

"You've got to be shitting me," Lara said, shaking her head.

"I'm serious. You are familiar with the place, how it works, and the people. You have a relationship with the staff, and you know the owner, Dave Miller, well. Very well, according to a couple of videos I've seen on The Pearl's website," Lucia said.

Lara's mouth dropped in shock.

How the fuck does she know about that?

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone," Lucia said, reading Lara's expression perfectly. "I saw your videos while doing my research on The Pearl. I figured you wore the mask to stay anonymous, but you can't hide your voice, Lara. Or your body. I had my suspicions from your picture in the police file, but I knew the moment I saw you in the flesh at the station that it was you in those videos."

"Nobody knows about that, and I'd like to keep it that way," Lara said, feeling distraught at handing the woman even more ammunition to use against her.

"As I said, I'll keep it to myself. My point is that you have intimate knowledge of The Pearl. You can help me," Lucia implored.

"I can lay it all out for you. A deep dive. The complete crash course in Dave and the politics of The Pearl. Tell you everything that might help," Lara suggested.

Lucia shook her head. "It's not the same, and you know it. Besides, it's not just the information. A second body in there is invaluable."

"How? What aren't you telling me?" Lara asked.

"I'm not going to bullshit you. I need to get close to Gambini."

"You mean fuck him," Lara said.

"Yes, if that's what it takes."

"You don't need me for that. From what I hear, you have no issues spreading your legs while undercover," Lara said, reciting the tidbit of information that Mike had told her about Lucia's last assignment.

It was now Lucia's turn to look shocked at the sudden bombshell being dropped.

I did my homework too, Lara thought to herself, unable to keep a smirk from her face at the tables being turned.

Lucia recovered quickly and went stony-faced. "I do what I have to in order to get the job done. I make no apologies for it."

The two women stood for several moments, each one silently judging the other as they stared. Lucia was the one to break the stalemate.

"Gambini is a known womanizer, so it likely won't be much of a challenge. But I'm just being practical. He's Italian-American. They aren't exactly known for their diverse dating tastes. I need a backup in case he doesn't go for my.... complexion," Lucia said awkwardly.

Lara understood Lucia's predicament.

She is worried he might not like her. That he might be racist and not go for the "Latin" look.

"You have the pale skin and brunette hair that some guys are into. I'd rather have an extra round in the chamber in case I miss. If you are more to his taste, we can pivot to you," Lucia reasoned.

"I'm not whoring myself out for you, Lucia. Forget it," Lara said firmly.

"Jesus Christ, fine!" Lucia said, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated fashion and finally showing some signs of frustration. "But you can flirt with him. Get close to him. Dance for him. Let him take you out. Lead him on. I know you are capable of that."

Lara bit back a remark and thought about what she was offering for a minute. Lucia could get Alan out. It wasn't a put-on. Lara knew the DEA would make deals and bend rules to meet their own ends. If they were willing to cut a deal with Price, who had already been convicted, they surely wouldn't balk at making Alan's trial go away. She could easily see them having a quiet word with the DA to make him see reason. But at what cost?

Lara knew what would be involved in going back to The Pearl. It was obvious what ingratiating herself with a man like Salvatore Gambini would mean, despite what Lucia had just said. It was a line she wasn't prepared to cross.

"I can't go back to The Pearl, Lucia. There is just too much baggage," Lara said, trying to reason with the woman.

"But you've done it before! And you have to work somewhere. How are you going to live? To pay for this place?" Lucia pushed.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I've already decided I'm going to return to stripping. Temporarily," Lara said.

"If not The Pearl, where? Silk is a pile of rubble. Are you going to move?"

"I looked online, and there is a club about an hour away. It's a bit of a commute, but I'll make it work," Lara said, raising her chin.

"What club?"

"It's called 'The Seraphim Club,' I think. It looked decent from the pictures I saw."

"Ha!" Lucia scoffed dramatically. "Lara, that place is less a strip joint and more a brothel! You'll spend most of your time on your back if you go work there. Funny choice considering you just said you had no intention of 'whoring yourself out,' wouldn't you say?"

Lara frowned as she digested what Lucia had just said. She hadn't known about any of that, having assumed from her brief research session online that the place was legitimate. If Lucia were telling the truth, and that was one hell of an assumption, this new club was a non-starter. Lara had no intention of working in a brothel.

"Think about it, Lara," Lucia urged, sensing hesitation. "Think about your future. You come back to The Pearl with me, just for a short while. We gather the intel we need, and once Gambini is compromised, your job is done. Alan comes home, and the two of you can move on. Together."

Lara couldn't deny the logic, but she had seen Lucia's talent for manipulation already. She didn't trust her. Lucia was out for herself, and she would crush whoever stood in her way, including her and Alan. But if the offer was real, was this something Lara was willing to do?

Stripping and lap dancing were easy for her. She knew it, and she was good at it. But there were other considerations at play. Such as Dave Miller. He'd be her boss again. She didn't relish the idea of being under his thumb. Navigating that had been perilous the last time, and now she'd have Gambini to contend with too. It had the potential to go very wrong, very quickly.

Lara asked herself the question. Could she manage it? Finesse her way through the minefield and come out unscathed on the other side?

"I don't know about all of this...." Lara said, unsure of herself as she mulled it over.

"You've decided yourself to go back to stripping, anyway. This way, you get some cash coming in, help the DEA bring down a scumbag, and help your boyfriend out of a jam. It's three birds with one stone!" Lucia pressed. "Look, don't give me a decision right now. You need to get ready for your visit."

Lucia walked over to the coffee table next to one of Lara's leather chairs. She picked up the pen and paper that were lying there. "Here is my number. Give what I said some thought and get back to me when you are ready."

She put the pad with her number back down and produced something from her coat before placing it on the table. From the brief glimpse Lara had gotten, it looked like an item of clothing. Lucia moved to stand in front of her while placing her hand on Lara's arm.

"Enjoy your time with Alan. We'll talk later."

Lucia walked out of the living room, leaving Lara alone.

Lara could hear the clacking of the agent's heels fade away as the woman left the apartment, closing the door behind her. Only then did Lara walk over to the coffee table and examine what was there.

Sitting beside the pen and paper was Lara's bra. The same one she had shed during the interview with Price. Lucia had kept it and had clearly thought now was the best time to return it. Lara stared down at the bra and tried not to think of its significance, instead focusing on the pad, specifically the name "Lucia Mendez" above the phone number.

This is either an opportunity or a noose. I have no idea which.

***

"Twenty-two years?" Alan said, in apparent shock at the man standing across from him.

"Yup. I'm eight years into a twenty-two-year bid. I'm up for parole after eighteen, though," the man responded, almost nonchalantly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Sitting on the bottom bunk, Alan listened to the man talk. He had been moved, for the third time in as many weeks, to a different cell, and with that came the complicated and potentially dangerous task of getting to know his new cellmate. The man, who had introduced himself simply as "Fitz," was a big improvement over his last one. He seemed much friendlier, at any rate.

Fitz looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, if Alan had to guess. He was of average height and had a wiry frame. His face was full of sharp angles and hard lines, and his eyes were deep-set, giving him a guarded or wary appearance. There was also a severe-looking scar on his left cheek that made Alan curious, but not curious enough to ask about just yet. He knew it was in his own best interest to get along as much as possible.

"That seems like a long time for a simple robbery," Alan said.

"There was nothing simple about it," Fitz replied, looking momentarily irritated at the comment.

"No, I just meant...." Alan started to say, suddenly worried he had offended him.

"This wasn't a 7-Eleven, kid. It was a jewelry store. A high-end joint. And I didn't bum-rush the place. I had it all planned out. To the letter," Fitz said, looking proud as he spoke before his face fell slightly. "But the best-laid plans of rice and men and all that jazz."

Alan ignored the mangling of the common saying, deciding it was best to just carry on. "What went wrong?"

"The regular security guard called in sick. The replacement thought he was fucking Rambo or something. My gun was a replica. His wasn't. He shot the place to hell, hitting me and the clerk behind the counter. Poor son of a bitch died on the spot, and I got the blame even though my gun was made of fucking plastic," Fitz said, obvious bitterness seeping into his voice.

"Oh," Alan said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yeah. Oh, is right," Fitz said. "Still, nothing I can do about it now. Just got to get through the next few years as smoothly as possible."

"Any advice on how to do that?"

"I'd love to tell you I have some Zen trick that changes everything, but that would be bullshit. The honest answer is that it sucks. It always sucks. But you get used to it. This just becomes your new normal."

"I'm not sure I can cope with this being my life, Fitz," Alan said with a grim look on his face.

"Don't think about it. It won't help. Focus on your trial date. Or your girl. Anything but the idea of what might happen. I've seen people go crazy stewing over shit they can't change, and I don't want to be stuck in here with another nut-bag," Fitz replied.

"Makes sense, I guess. Focus on the trial. And on Lara," Alan repeated.

"Lara? That your girl?" Fitz asked.

"Yeah."

"What does she look like?"

Alan was about to answer before deciding a picture was worth a thousand words. He reached over to his bag and fished out a photograph of Lara before handing it to the older man. Fitz took the photo, and his eyes went wide as he examined it.

"Fuck a duck," Fitz said, as he drank in the image of Lara in a revealing black dress.

"I know," Alan said, not bothering to hide his pride.

The photograph had been taken on a night out, with the soft light of a restaurant catching the highlights in Lara's long, brunette hair as it fell over one shoulder. She was looking just past the camera, with a warm smile on her face.

The black dress she was wearing was simple but devastating, its low neckline doing little to hide her voluptuous body and the shape of her chest. The fabric clung to the curves of her waist and hips, while the slit in the dress revealed a tantalizing length of smooth, toned thigh. The woman looked a million miles away from the gray concrete cell that Alan and Fitz inhabited.

"Can I borrow this picture tonight?" Fitz said, his eyes still glued to Lara.

"Um...." Alan said, not sure how best to answer.

"I'm just fucking with you, kid. Relax," Fitz said with a chuckle as he popped Alan in the shoulder, hard enough to shift Alan off balance. "Still though, fucking hell. Look at the tits on her. They real?"

Alan hesitated for a second before deciding to humor him. "Yes," Alan said simply.

"Outstanding," Fitz said, with noticeable lust in his eyes. "So what the fuck is she doing with you?"

"I have no idea."

"Don't get me wrong, Al. You're a decent-looking guy, but this girl of yours is a certified dime. How'd you meet?" Fitz asked.

"It was a college party. She came with a friend of mine," Alan said.

"A male friend?"

"Yeah."

"You stole his girl? You rat bastard!" Fitz said, grinning.

"It wasn't like that. I didn't make a move until I found out she wasn't really his girlfriend. She was pretending," Alan said, giving the abridged version of how they met.

"Like his beard?" Fitz asked.

"Something like that," Alan said, unwilling to elaborate on the full, complicated tale regarding Lenny, Lara, and himself.

"Well, do yourself a favor and do what you have to in order to hang on to her," Fitz said.

"What do you mean?"

Fitz hesitated before answering. "Forget I said anything. You've got a lovely girl," Fitz said as he handed Alan back the photo.

"Thanks," Alan replied as he took the photo and sat back down, turning it over in his hands.

Fitz nodded and moved over to the small shelf that held some of his own belongings. But the comment kept gnawing at Alan. After nearly a minute, he asked again.

"Fitz, what did you mean when you told me to do what I had to?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Fitz asked.

"Yes."

"Alright," Fitz said, moving to sit down beside Alan on the bottom bunk. "I'm not trying to piss in your cereal here. I'm just being honest. Women who look like that aren't alone for long."

"She's not alone. We are still together," Alan said, frowning.

"Yes, but if you want to stay together, you need to be realistic."

"Realistic about what?" Alan asked, still confused.

"About how many guys are going to hit on her while you're in here. Let's imagine that your trial goes well. You beat the rap and walk out of here. It's still going to be, what, another six months? And let's be real, it could be longer if those fuckers drag their feet," Fitz said.

"I'm aware of that. What's your point?"

"That your girl hasn't gone that long without sex since she was sixteen. She's going to be having it while you are in here, and if you want to keep her, you need to make peace with that."

"Lara isn't like that."

"All women are like that. Especially ones who look like her," Fitz countered. "How often did you two bang before you got locked up?"

"What the fuck does that matter?" Alan said, irritation surfacing in his demeanor.

"I'm guessing daily?" Fitz said. "You think she's going to go suddenly celibate for that long? Cold turkey?"

"So you're saying she's going to cheat on me, is that it?" Alan said, raising his voice.

"You can't look at it like that. I've seen this situation play out before, kid. Don't think of it as cheating. You're in here. She's out there. You need to give her a pass."

"A pass?"

"Yes, a pass. She's going to do it anyway. If you don't give her a pass, it's going to feel like cheating. For her and for you. And that shit is toxic. It won't last once you get out of here," Fitz said.

The fucking nerve!

Alan had to fight the impulse to reach out and throttle the man sitting next to him. The old fart didn't know a thing about his relationship. The idea that he could size Lara up with just a glance at a photo was ridiculous.

But as he stewed in his anger, he realized that Fitz was right about one thing. Before Alan had found himself in here, he and Lara had fucked on a daily basis. He knew Lara had a high sex drive. He couldn't remember a single day since they had been officially together when they hadn't done it.

And so, doubts started to creep into his thoughts. Was Fitz actually right? Could Lara go this long without satisfying that urge? And perhaps more importantly, should she? It wasn't her fault he'd behaved like a colossal oaf and punched that idiot at the bar. Why should she have to put her life on hold on account of his mistake? Would Lara even expect to give up sex for that long a time? Would she expect him to give her a pass?

Alan thought back through his relationship with Lara, focusing on their sexual experiences. One incident stuck out in his mind. Lara had treated him to a lap dance at The Pearl, performed by a friend of hers named Britney. Lara had watched, participated even, as Britney had gotten him off. He had cum while Lara talked dirty into his ear, encouraging him as he finished.

Alan had thought at the time that she was extremely liberated when it came to sex. He thought it even more now. And given that fact, what sort of boyfriend would he be if he demanded she change her attitude just for him?

His thoughts were interrupted by the cell door opening. A corrections officer whose name Alan didn't know walked in and stood before the pair of seated men.

"New guy. Get moving. You've got a visitor," the guard said.

"What? I was told I didn't qualify," Alan said, sure that there was some sort of mistake.

"You didn't. You still don't. Somebody upstairs must like you because you're on the list as of this morning. Let's go."

"Is it Lara?" Alan asked, now feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

"How would I know who the hell it is? Come on, I don't have all day."

Alan shot to his feet and moved to follow the man out of the cell before Fitz called after him.

"Al? That shiner you have courtesy of your last celly? Lie to her about how you got it. She doesn't need to know that shit," Fitz told him.

Alan nodded at him as he turned and left the cell. The jury might still have been out regarding his "pass" theory, but Fitz was right about the black eye. Alan didn't want Lara to worry any more than necessary, and he knew it would be a bad idea to tell her that his last cellmate had punched him so hard that his eye had swollen shut for three days.

He'd make something up instead.

***

Lara sat on the uncomfortable plastic chair as she tried to avoid making eye contact with the other visitors surrounding her. The room was filled mostly with women, all of whom were dressed in casual, everyday clothes. Lara felt decidedly out of place.

She had taken Lucia's advice and dressed up but was now regretting that decision. Both the guards and the visitors were giving her stares. She had spent extra time on her hair and makeup and felt good about that part, but the dress had been a mistake, and she had known it the moment she sat down.

Lara had picked out an expensive red outfit. More specifically, it was a scarlet cocktail dress designed to create an hourglass silhouette that had looked great in her mirror at home, but now she thought she had too much cleavage on display. It was a wrap-style dress, and her posture while sitting on the low plastic chair caused the crossover front to pull apart, revealing more of her bust than she had originally planned.

She couldn't ignore the hot flush of embarrassment, realizing that what she had intended to be sexy and alluring now just seemed cheap and trashy, given her surroundings. She felt like a trophy wife coming to visit her gangster boyfriend.

The guy who handled visitor processing had also admonished her for her choice of outfit, telling her, "This isn't a nightclub. Next time, wear something more appropriate," before letting her in.

Trying not to fidget too much as she waited, she absentmindedly started to rub her neck where Price had tried to strangle her. The bruising had faded somewhat but was still visible, so she had applied some cover-up to conceal it. She didn't want Alan to notice it. It would be difficult to explain if he did.

Explaining to Alan the deal that Lucia had suggested would be equally as difficult. Lara still wasn't sure whether she would take the woman up on her offer. If she did, should she tell Alan? Surely he'd want to know that there was a chance he could be released. But would he agree with what Lara would have to do in order for that to happen?

Maybe I should keep the entire thing to myself for the moment. At least until I know more.

"Follow me, please."

Lara looked up at the guard who had spoken the words in her direction and quickly rose out of the flimsy chair. She followed him out of the room and down a long corridor.

He led her to a new room that was filled with alcoves. Each one had a seat in front of a large see-through barrier. The barrier wasn't glass, but a thick sheet of reinforced polycarbonate, its surface marked by years of scratches. It was flanked by some dividers she assumed were for privacy, not that they offered much. Sitting in a seat on the other side was Alan.

Lara hurried to the chair on her side of the barrier and sat down as Alan mouthed several words she couldn't hear. There was no old-fashioned telephone receiver to pick up and talk into, as she had expected. She searched around for a switch or button to press, but there was nothing in front of her, only a speaker built into the desk. Suddenly, she heard a beep, and some words came out of the speaker.

".... you hear me?"

"Yes! I can hear you. Oh my God, Alan. What happened to your eye?" Lara asked in a panic as she noticed the sore-looking black eye he was sporting.

"Oh, that. My bunk in my cell is the top one. I never had bunk beds as a kid, so I didn't know the best way to get down. I whacked my face against the frame when hopping down the other day," Alan said, giving her a crooked smile.

Jesus Christ, they are beating him! Lara thought.

Her face obviously betrayed her thoughts as Alan followed up immediately.

"It was just a clumsy accident. It looks worse than it is," Alan said, trying to reassure her. He decided to move on quickly. "How is everything? Are you good?"

"I'm fine," Lara answered. She had waited so long to see him, but now that she was here, she was suddenly at a loss for what to say to him.

"Well, you look absolutely amazing," Alan said, as he glanced up and down her body.

"I feel like an idiot. Everyone was giving me dirty looks," Lara said.

"That's because they are jealous of how beautiful you are."

"I doubt it. I look so trashy. I shouldn't have worn this," Lara said, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Alan told her while grinning at her.

She couldn't help but smile back. "You're only saying that because these are the only pair of tits you've seen in forever," Lara said while squeezing her arms together, accentuating her cleavage.

Alan just stared for several seconds before giving her an answer she didn't expect. "Not true! There is a big dude a few cells down from me who has enormous ones. At least an E-cup."

Lara burst out laughing. She felt a jolt of relief that he seemed the same. That his time in this shithole, no matter how brief, hadn't changed him.

Yet. Changed him yet.

Even so, she was worried he was putting on an act for her benefit. She decided to let him. Pressing him over the eye wouldn't accomplish anything.

"Joking aside, he's actually a nice guy," Alan said.

"Who?"

"The big guy. Mr. E-cup. He runs his own Dungeons & Dragons game," Alan said.

"You're kidding. In here? That's crazy!" Lara said.

"I know. It kind of flies in the face of the hardened criminal and gang violence thing, doesn't it?"

"We are all just people at the end of the day. Are you going to join in?" Lara asked.

"I think they have a full group. But I might let him know that I'm interested in case a spot opens up," Alan said.

"You should."

"Something tells me that the D&D game they play won't be anything like the last time you played," Alan said with a smirk.

Lara blushed in embarrassment as she remembered that sexually charged night. "I would hope not."

"I missed out on all the fun last time. I was too busy breaking and entering across the hall," Alan reminded her.

"Well, when this is all over, we can have our own private game and I'll make it up to you. So, no sexy adventures with your new friends," Lara joked.

"That's eerily similar to what my dad told me when I went off to camp when I was twelve," Alan snorted. "I think he was genuinely worried that I was gay because I was more interested in games than girls."

"Have you spoken to either of your parents recently?" Lara asked.

"No. For the time being, my phone privileges extend to my lawyer only. I can't call anyone else. Even if I could, I wouldn't call them," Alan said.

"They are your parents, Alan. I'm sure they want to hear from you. To know that you are okay. They love you."

"Love is supposed to be unconditional. They should have accepted you and been happy for me. I can't believe how they reacted when I told them about you," Alan said.

"I can go see them. Maybe try to extend an olive branch?" Lara suggested.

Alan just shook his head. "No. They don't deserve it. They have to make the first move. If they do, we'll listen. If not? Fuck them."

Lara squirmed in her seat as she listened to his words. She was the reason he had fallen out with his parents, and it bothered her. A lot. She couldn't imagine completely cutting her own parents out of her life. She appreciated him sticking up for her, but it seemed like the extreme option. Staying away from them and allowing Alan to continue his relationship with his parents was something she would gladly do. That seemed reasonable to her, but Alan didn't see it that way. According to Alan, they came as a package deal.

"Anyway, enough about them. Have you talked to Hall? He told me that you had something scheduled," Alan asked, seemingly eager to move the conversation away from his parents.

"Yeah, we talked. I think we chose well. He seems to know what he's doing," Lara said.

"He'd better, considering what he costs. The money these guys charge is obscene. I feel awful that you are having to spend your money on this."

"Our money, Alan. And it's worth it. We need somebody experienced, especially with all the crap this district attorney guy is throwing at you," Lara said.

"Hall says he is some young hotshot. Foley, I think," Alan said.

"Farley," Lara corrected him.

"Yeah, Farley. Hall says he's never seen a DA go this hard on a first-time offender before. He says if he didn't know better, he'd think that Farley has it out for me. That it almost feels personal," Alan said with a frown.

"He said something similar to me. You're sure you don't know this guy?" Lara asked.

"I've been racking my brain about it, but I keep coming up empty. Hall showed me a picture of him. I don't remember meeting him, and I can't imagine how we would ever have crossed paths."

"I could go ask him?" Lara suggested.

"I hope that's a joke. My girlfriend harassing the DA about my case? You'd end up in here with me."

"Maybe we could share a cell. We could squeeze into your top bunk," Lara said, winking at him.

Alan laughed, but it died fast, replaced by a flicker of doubt that darkened his eyes. Lara thought he looked apprehensive, as if he were unsure of what to say next.

"Speaking of.... um.... that, I think we should talk about how long I could be in here. And what it means for both of us," Alan said, stumbling a little over his words.

"Uh, okay," Lara said.

"Realistically, this is going to take a while. I don't want you putting your life on hold. It's not fair to you," Alan said.

"Putting my life on hold?" Lara repeated, still thoroughly confused by what he meant.

"Yeah. You should be able to.... do things. Normal things, without worrying about me while I'm in here," Alan said.

"Alan, what in God's name are you talking about?"

"With me in here, this is sort of like a long-distance relationship, right? And you will be alone for the foreseeable future. Without.... companionship," Alan said.

"Wait. Are you talking about sex?" Lara asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'm just saying that I understand that you might have certain needs. If I'm not around to help with that, it would be understandable if you decided to go elsewhere."

"Are you suggesting that I would cheat on you?" Lara said, her tone becoming sharp as her eyes narrowed.

"No, it wouldn't be cheating, would it? Because you have my permission."

"Permission?" Lara said, her voice rising.

Alan winced as her reaction left him in no doubt how his choice of words had been received. "That was the wrong word. What I meant was...."

"Oh, I know what you meant! You're saying you understand how big of a slut I am. That you know that I can't go another moment without getting dicked down, yeah? That I couldn't possibly go so long without spreading my legs for some random guy," Lara said, her face now filled with fury.

"Maybe we should just forget I said anything," Alan said.

"I can't believe that is how you see me. That you think so little of me!"

"That's not...."

"No wonder your parents think I'm a whore. You do too!" Lara said, getting to her feet.

"I don't! Lara, I'm sorry. Please, sit back down and let's talk about this," Alan pleaded as he stared up at her.

"What is there to say? I'm a fool. I thought that you understood me. That you knew the real me. Clearly, I was wrong."

"You weren't. I just thought maybe you might want this. That if you knew I was okay with it, you'd be happier. That if I gave you a pass, it would help keep us together," Alan said in desperation.

"Save your excuses. You should thank your parents. They were right all along. I'm just some whore you shouldn't be with."

"Lara, I don't...."

"I'm sure they'll set you up with someone better who doesn't have to be given a free pass to cheat. A nice girl, not some desperate nymphomaniac like me, right? Well, good! I'm sure you'll be much happier. I will be too. I don't need this. I don't need to be here. And I don't need you."

"Please don't say that. I'm sorry. I love you, Lara!" Alan said in a panic as he realized what he had done.

"Go to hell!" Lara screamed at him as she turned and marched away from the booth.

***

As Lara stormed out of the room and down the long corridor, her hands trembled from the adrenaline coursing through her. She clenched her fists at her sides as she walked, trying to choke down the rising anger that threatened to overwhelm her.

She found herself alone and back in the waiting area. She collapsed onto the same hard and cheap plastic chair. Her breath hitched, and she pressed her hands to her face, wanting to hold back her tears. They came regardless, floods of them streaming down her cheeks. She sobbed loudly for several minutes as she let her emotions take over fully.

Eventually, her tears slowed, her breathing steadied, and the tightness in her chest began to ease. The sounds of the prison filtered back into her awareness. Metal doors clanging, muffled voices, the hum of fluorescent lights.

As she sat there, the anger and sense of betrayal faded, and she was just left feeling confused. How could he think like that? After all that they had been through together. Yes, she enjoyed sex. She wouldn't be shamed for it. But she had always been faithful. She hadn't been with anyone else since they had made things official. He had even moved in shortly after. They had been together for over a year, and nothing like this had ever come up.

She wiped away the remnants of her tears and sniffled as she ran back over what he had said. It hadn't been an accusation. It had almost sounded like a suggestion. "I just thought maybe you might want this. That if you knew I was okay with it, you'd be happier."

The idea that she couldn't go a few months without sex was insulting. More than that, it had been devastating to hear him say that was what he thought of her. How could you not take that idea personally? But then it dawned on her that perhaps he hadn't meant it that way. And he was right about the reality of everything. This wasn't just a few days. It was longer, and there was more time to come before the trial and his potential release.

Sex had been a daily occurrence for them, sometimes even multiple times, and it had been an adjustment when Alan had been arrested. It was true that it had been tough being alone lately. She had an assortment of toys that saw some use, but it wasn't quite the same. Still, the idea of cheating on Alan had never crossed her mind.

You had another man's dick in your mouth a few days ago. He's right. You're a whore.

The dark thought was dismissed as soon as it occurred. She hadn't wanted that. It was blackmail, and she had done it for Alan. To keep him safe. Because she loved him.

And she still did. Despite what he had said, despite what she had said back, she knew she loved him. She had been angry. She still was. If the shoe were on the other foot, and she were locked up with him outside, she would never suggest such a thing. Right?

You set him up with one of your friends and watched.

This next dark thought entered her mind, but she couldn't dismiss this one. This one was true. Lara had not only allowed it; she had instigated it. She'd watched as Britney had teased him. Then she had directed the action between the two of them.

I gave him permission.

She shook her head in sudden understanding. Had that been so different? Was that why Alan had suggested this? In a way, Lara had opened this door by showing him she was okay with being sexually adventurous as long as she was involved. As long as she knew about it. It only made sense that he would remember that. Was Alan just trying to follow her lead?

Lara had a voyeuristic streak. She knew that about herself. She liked to watch and be watched. It had been a thrill to see Britney blow Alan. Watching two people go at it was hot. He'd certainly enjoyed it too, but Alan had never shown any signs of being a voyeur or a swinger.

He was no cuckold either. He didn't get off on the thought of her with other men. So, his "idea" wasn't for him. He wasn't getting anything out of it. In fact, knowing him as she did, it would probably be very uncomfortable for him to imagine her with other men. And yet he had still suggested it.

It had been a ridiculous thing to say, and the way he had broached it left a lot to be desired, but she realized now that it had come from a different place. It hadn't been said out of malice. It wasn't a judgment. He didn't think that she needed it. He just wanted her to have it. To be happy.

He was an idiot. But he was still her idiot.

She felt justified in her initial reaction, just maybe not to that level. She had to admit that her blow-up at him was partly because of her own insecurities about how people saw her. That wasn't his fault. And she knew in that moment that she needed to fix it. To talk to him. Tell him she understood what he had meant. She couldn't leave things like that. Not with him alone in there with nothing but his thoughts and nobody to talk to.

Lara got to her feet and brushed herself off. As she walked through the same door and down the long corridor once more, she worried that it had been too long. That she wouldn't be able to get back in to see him. Her fears were confirmed by the same guard she had seen earlier, who stood barring the door.

"Sorry, I can't let you back in," he said, holding up an arm to stop her.

"It's important. It will only take a minute. I need to tell him something," Lara said.

"Can't do it. It's protocol. Besides, even if I did let you back in, he won't be there. He'll be back in his cell by now. I'm sure whatever it is, you can tell him next time."

"This can't wait. Please, can't you make an exception? Get him back?" Lara begged, becoming desperate.

"They'd have my job, ma'am."

"Well, can you give him a message from me?" Lara asked.

"I'm really not supposed to...." he started to say before seeing the crestfallen look on her face and softening somewhat. "What's the message?"

"Tell him that we're okay. That he's a stupid fuckhead, but I understand what he was trying to do for me, even if it came out wrong. Tell him I'm sorry for what I said, too. I didn't mean it. That I do need him. And tell him.... that I love him," Lara said, as her eyes started to water again.

***

"That was fast. How did it go?" Fitz said from the bottom bunk as he watched Alan trudge back into the cell.

"Not well. I fucked everything up," Alan said, not looking directly at his cellmate.

He leaned against the wall with his arms above his head and sighed, resting his forehead against the cool brick. Before Fitz could speak again, a guard entered the cell from behind him.

"New guy. Your visitor. She was the chick in the red dress, right?"

"Yes! Why? Did something happen?" Alan asked as he turned to face him.

"No, just that she asked me to pass along a message. Uh, she says she is sorry. And she knows what you meant. And, um.... she loves you," the guard said, looking a little embarrassed.

"She said that?" Alan said, as the relief hit him so hard he thought he might have to sit down.

"Yeah. She also called you a stupid fuckhead, so I wouldn't get too carried away," the guard said with a snicker as he turned and left the cell.

Alan stared after him, thankful that he hadn't just torched his relationship.

"See? I told you. I know women," Fitz announced smugly.

***

"Thanks for showing me all of this, Dave."

"Happy to do it, Nico. I think it's great that you want to learn the ropes," Dave said, pushing a stray ledger aside. "A lot of guys in your position wouldn't bother. They'd be happy to just coast by on your family name."

"That's not me. I'll be running things soon, and I know how important it is to understand how things work. How they really work under the hood and not just on the surface," Nico responded, his eyes locking with Dave's in a determined manner.

The pair were in Dave's office at The Pearl with a number of large books sprawled out on the desk in front of them. The books in question were records of the club's financials.

Not all of them, Dave thought to himself as he watched Nico lean forward, scanning the largest ledger in a studious fashion. Just enough to whet his appetite. He doesn't need to know everything.

"I do have some questions though," Nico remarked as he straightened back up, meeting Dave's gaze across the mahogany desk.

Dave shrugged. "Fire away."

"It says here you have three different suppliers for your alcohol."

"Yes, that's right," Dave answered.

"Why? At Silk, my dad used only one company. It kept things simpler, and surely you get a better deal if you order in bulk?" Nico said.

Dave shot him a knowing smile. "Perhaps, but there are advantages to not using just one supplier."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one thing, they all compete with each other. If you put all your eggs in one basket, what do you do when he jacks up the price of those eggs? This way, it keeps them all fighting for my business," Dave explained, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret.

"I guess that makes sense. Still, different companies, with different orders and delivery dates. It's a lot of hassle," Nico said.

"There are other reasons too why it works out better this way. Let me give you an example. Let's say you get a delivery that isn't up to snuff. Maybe they short you a few crates or some of the product is watered down. What would you do?" Dave asked.

"I'd confront them. You can't let that shit slide," Nico said decisively.

"That's one way to go, sure. You could knock a few teeth loose. They'd know not to fuck with you, and your reputation would be enhanced a little, but that route has consequences too. Now, you're out a supplier. If you get physical every time there is a problem, eventually you'll run out of suppliers. And what if they go to the cops?"

"Don't you have them on your payroll?" Nico asked.

"I do, but that's a valuable chip to cash in. You don't want to waste it on minor stuff like this. Plus, involving them is a headache in itself. We aren't in the business of inviting trouble if we don't have to," Dave told him.

Nico gave a slow nod. "So what would you do instead?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You do nothing, at first. Let him think he's put one over on you. See if he does it again. If he does, you halve his next order and give it to his competitor. Now he knows he's been busted. But you haven't confronted him directly. You give him the opening, the chance to back down and save face. If the next order is back to normal, you've won. You know he's dirty, but he got caught. Now, you own him. He won't try that shit again," Dave said.

"What if he doesn't back down and keeps trying to stiff you?" Nico asked.

"Then, you do it your way. Your reputation is worth more than the cost of the booze, and you can't let the world see you as a sucker. You show everyone what it costs to cross you. But that's a last resort."

"Yeah. I get it. A last resort."

"The key is options, Nico. Always have options. We use multiple vendors for everything," Dave said.

"Something tells me that wasn't a hypothetical, was it? That actually happened?" Nico said while chuckling.

Dave gave him a wide grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Who's to say? But the lesson here is not to rush in. As I said, options, Nico. You never tip your hand until you know the right move. Until you've decided on breaking fingers or staying friendly."

There was a sudden knock at the door that echoed sharply through the room and caught the attention of both men.

"Come in," Dave said.

He watched as the door opened. A woman entered and walked toward them. Dave was struck by her attitude immediately. He knew her name and why she was here from her application. She wanted a job. Most girls, even some experienced dancers, would be nervous when applying for a job like this one. Auditioning in a new environment and for a man they didn't know would be daunting. It was understandable. But this girl's demeanor was anything but nervous.

As she sauntered toward him, she exhibited nothing but easy confidence. Her stride was overtly sexy, with a noticeable sway that drew his eyes to her body. Dave liked her choice of outfit. It wasn't overly complicated or flashy, but it still grabbed your attention. The green halter top displayed her impressive chest beautifully, while the high-waisted thong she had chosen hugged her hips, highlighting the curve of her ass and lengthening the line of her legs.

He liked her hair too, but he had known that from the photographs she had already provided. It was long, dark and glossy, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The natural volume gave it a lively bounce with each step she took.

As she stopped in front of the desk, he also noticed how smooth her skin looked. Many of his dancers used self-tanner or spent time in a tanning bed to get that sun-kissed look. Dave knew this girl didn't need that. Her bronze skin was a natural part of her complexion.

"Mariana Rodriguez?" Dave asked as she stood in front of him.

"Yes," Lucia answered. "The guy at the bar told me to come straight up. Are you Mr. Miller?"

"I am, but you can call me Dave. This is Nico, an associate of mine," Dave said while gesturing to the man on the same side of the desk as she was.

Nico nodded his head at her in greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too," Lucia said, giving him a dazzling smile. "Will you be staying for my audition? I don't mind doing both of you."

Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise at her choice of words before recovering. "As tempting as that sounds, I'm afraid I can't stay. I'm going to dinner with my father, so you'll just be dancing for Dave," Nico said.

This girl is smooth, Dave thought.

Unlike Nico, he knew the words she'd used were no accident. She had dropped the idea of "doing" them into conversation to get both men picturing sex with her while also giving her plausible deniability that she had only meant "doing" a lap dance. It was impressive, but also made him wary. She was no bimbo, that was for sure.

"Speak of the devil," Dave said as he watched Gambini walk through the door that Lucia had left open. Gambini lumbered into the room, his heavy steps a stark contrast to Lucia's graceful entrance from earlier.

He was dressed in a sharp suit that strained at the seams, his rotund frame filling the doorway awkwardly. Despite the expensive fabric and polished shoes, the ensemble missed the mark, falling well short of what he was likely aiming for. It was too tight and pinched for a man who carried his excessive weight, and the undoubtedly tailored suit looked ill-fitting all the same.

"Nicholas! There you are. We need to leave soon if we are to keep our dinner reservation," Gambini said as he ambled toward his son, ignoring Lucia and Dave completely.

"Where are you two headed?" Dave asked.

"La Dolce Vita. It's a fine Italian bistro across town. Great food and a little taste of home," Gambini said pompously.

"Buona scelta, signor Gambini. Un vero sapore di casa," Lucia said to him in Italian.

Gambini stood open-mouthed and in shock as he turned to the woman, as if noticing her for the first time.

"Grazie. Si, il cibo.... molto buono. Um.... molto come Italia, si?" Gambini answered, stumbling over his words.

Fuck. He doesn't speak Italian. Not well, at any rate, Lucia thought to herself, now very aware that she might have embarrassed him.

"You speak Italian?" Dave asked.

Definitely not a bimbo.

"No, not really. Only a few phrases. I probably mangled it. I certainly don't speak it as well as Mr. Gambini," Lucia said, lying completely and trying to backtrack to spare Gambini's pride.

"Yes, well, I understood what you meant," Gambini said gruffly. "Who are you?"

"Mariana. I'm here to audition," Lucia said, giving Gambini the same smile she had used on Nico earlier. She stood there as his eyes roamed over her.

"Dave, can I have a word?" Gambini said abruptly, motioning with his head to the side.

Dave obliged him and stepped out from behind his desk. He followed him to the other side of the room.

"Why is she here? I thought we were hiring an Asian girl?" Gambini said, his voice low but not low enough to stop them from being overheard.

"We are. But this girl applied, and I thought I'd give her a chance," Dave replied.

"Why? You already have that Jessica girl. We don't need another spic."

"Jessica is Chilean," Dave explained.

"Whatever. They are all the same."

"So Asian girls are okay, but Hispanic ones aren't?" Dave asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes! The chinks come here to work. Her kind don't. She'll probably try to rob the customers. Or us," Gambini said.

"If she does, we'll deal with it, but we need fresh bodies, Sal. We've lost too many girls recently," Dave said in a half whisper.

"Lin was never going to last," Gambini said, bristling a little.

"And Britney? She was here long before you were, and now she's gone too," Dave said irritably.

"Who?" Gambini asked.

"The blonde you groped!" Dave said, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Oh. That. You know how I feel about that, Dave. I was just being friendly with her. Your former head of security is lucky I didn't kill him after what he did," Gambini said dangerously.

"Well, whatever. The point stands. We need more girls. I mean, look at her. She's gorgeous. If she can dance decently, I'm going to consider her," Dave said.

"It's a mistake."

"Well, it's my mistake to make," Dave countered.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Gambini muttered, shaking his head as he stomped away from Dave and toward the door. "Come on, son. I'm starved. Let's leave Dave to it."

"See you later, Dave," Nico said as he followed his father out of the room.

Fucking prick, Lucia thought to herself as she watched Gambini leave with his son in tow.

Gambini hadn't been discreet regarding his reservations about her. She had heard most of it. Her fears had been confirmed. He didn't like "spics." It was now more important than ever to impress Dave.

"Okay, let's get to it," Dave said as he walked over to his long leather couch and sank down into it. "The remote for the sound system is on the desk. Select whatever you like on the screen and then show me what you can do, Mariana."

Lucia grabbed the remote and scrolled through the enormous collection on display. With a few presses, she queued up the three songs she wanted for her dance, the first of which was "Me & U" by Cassie.

She pressed play, and the bassline of the song filled the room at once. It had the solid beat and the seductive atmosphere she wanted, slick and hypnotic without being too loud or busy. Just the right tempo to begin a dance.

She didn't rush. Lucia stood a few feet away from where he sat on the couch and began to move her hips to the beat. She held his gaze, the dark eyeshadow giving her a sultry and predatory expression, as her hands traced the curve of her own waist before moving up to run her thumbs under the fabric of her green halter top. Then she hooked her fingers into the neckline, pulling the material down just an inch or two before letting it snap back against her skin. It gave him a brief glimpse of what was underneath. A tease, but nothing more.

Lucia then performed a slow, rolling body wave that showcased her flexibility. It was a smooth, fluid motion that looked effortless, yet undeniably sexy. Her dark hair cascaded down her back as she rolled her body to the music.

Dave's eyes tracked the movement of her hands on her own body. Watching her touch herself, even through the velvet, made his cock stir. He shifted slightly on the couch, already beginning to harden.

She spent another thirty seconds or so dancing for him from a distance. He focused on how good her ass and legs looked as she dipped low, on the mesmerizing way she rolled her belly, and finally on how her breasts swayed naturally beneath the fabric as she moved. She didn't delay too long, though, just long enough to let him see the full package.

When she was satisfied that he was ready, she stalked toward where he sat. Dave spread his legs slightly and leaned back into the leather couch as he rested his hands at his sides.

She had started well, in his opinion, but now was the true test. Would she be robotic and go from move A to B and then to C like a checklist? Would she go the predictable route full of hair whipping and proximity hovering for most of the set list? Or would she have more up her sleeve? He hoped for the latter.

Lucia stepped directly between his spread thighs. She didn't touch him yet and merely stood there, close to him, letting the warmth of her inner thighs radiate near his knees for a moment. He looked up and down the length of her body as she paused there. Then, she began to lower herself slowly, while locking eyes with him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, her touch delicate but still firm, asserting control rather than using him to support herself. She dipped her body down, hovering just inches above his lap without making contact in order to let the anticipation build. Lucia then rolled her hips in a figure eight.

Dave could feel her thong brushing lightly against his pants. He assumed she would keep this up for a while, but she surprised him by suddenly pivoting on his lap. Lucia spun around, quick and graceful, so that she was facing away from him. She dropped her weight back, finally making full contact, and pressed her ass firmly against his groin.

Lucia leaned forward and braced her hands on his knees while arching her back. This allowed her to push her rear out, grinding on his lap in an easy, circular motion as her ass glided over his zipper repeatedly.

The heat of her radiated through the thin material with every roll and press of her body working against him. Her thong was barely any barrier at all, and Dave found himself fighting the urge to grab her hips and grind her down harder.

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell he was aroused by a very different reaction. His erection felt hard and pronounced against her. She glanced back over her shoulder and met his eyes while she worked her hips in slow, sensual circles. The corner of her mouth curled into a knowing smile before she turned away again. For a few more beats, she kept her teasing movements up. Dave groaned softly, and she rewarded the sound by pressing herself harder against him.

As the song played on, she reclined toward him, leaning back so that her ass and body were now flush with him as she continued to grind.

Dave then decided to test her, to see her reaction to temporarily losing control. He reached both his hands around her, and roughly grabbed her breasts. To his delight, she didn't flinch or tense up. She simply allowed him to feel her up while keeping her rhythm, the back of her head lolling onto his shoulder.

He kneaded and cupped her large breasts through the material of the top. He could feel the points of her nipples, hard beneath the velvet, and rolled them between his fingers through the fabric. The weight of her breasts in his palms, the give of the soft flesh, the way they moved with her breathing. All of it made his cock strain harder against his zipper. He attacked them with zeal, eliciting a soft moan from her. She seemed to relish the roughness.

Just as the first track began to fade, a new one took its place. The intro to Kaleo's "Way Down We Go" started to play through the speakers. The mood shifted instantly, this song having a heavier, almost blues-like quality to it.

Lucia used the change of pace to switch positions. She sat up and slowly swiveled around on his lap to face him, straddling him. Her knees were now on either side of his hips, pinning him gently beneath her.

"Let me get this out of the way so you can have a better look and feel," Lucia said as she reached both hands up and behind her head to the knot holding the halter top in place.

With a practiced tug, she released it, and the fabric came loose. She didn't rush to cover herself or slowly tease him with the reveal. She just lowered her hands, letting the front portion of her top drift down. It pooled on his lap and revealed her chest completely.

His eyes feasted on her breasts, full and heavy, yet sitting proudly with only a little sag. This time, she didn't wait for him to initiate. Lucia took his hands and guided them back to her chest, forcing him to cup her skin without the barrier of the top.

She either really likes this or she knows to commit to the act. Either works. Impressive.

Dave sighed as his fingers pressed into the soft, yielding weight of her. Now that he could have a more thorough examination from straight on, he realized that they were heavier than they first appeared. They filled his hands completely. Her skin was warm and smooth. He circled his thumbs over her nipples and watched her head fall back in response, exposing her neck to him. Then, he flicked them a few more times before returning to kneading them possessively.

He loved the way the supple flesh swelled and shifted in his hands, the way they bounced slightly as he playfully slapped them. She continued to grind to the beat and let him have his way with her chest.

"Enjoying yourself so far, Dave?" Lucia purred as she brought her lips close to his ear and trapped his hands between both their bodies.

"Sure, but it will take more than this to convince me. I'm not easily impressed, darling," Dave said.

In truth, he was impressed. She was better than average, for sure. Her skills and looks made her good enough for his club. But he was curious about how far she would go, so he had thrown down the gauntlet.

"I know I can convince you," Lucia said as she shifted her weight, lifting herself slightly.

Still raised up on his lap, she leaned to one side and shimmied out of her thong before kicking it aside when it reached her ankle. Her hands went to his belt.

There was no hesitation. No fumbling. She hadn't dithered or thought about what he had meant by his comment. She had acted instantly. Lucia undid the buckle and the zipper with the efficiency of a woman who knew exactly what to do. She didn't take his pants all the way off. Instead, she tugged them down and then pulled his boxers with them. Now free, his cock sprang out and twitched in front of her.

Dave suppressed a smirk as he watched her reaction. She had hidden it well, but he had been waiting for it. She had been surprised by his length and girth. Dave was aware that he was no physical prize with his flabby gut and balding head, but he also knew his cock was more than capable of pleasing a woman.

Lucia gripped his length in her hand and guided him to her entrance as the song began to swell, the drums of "Way Down We Go" kicking in with a slow, steady beat. He inhaled sharply as she teased the tip of his cock against her slit. Then, as the chorus exploded with the line "And way down we go," Lucia sank down.

She took him all at once, the heavy drop of the beat matching the drop of her hips. She threw her head back once more, as a long and somewhat theatrical moan escaped her lips. Her pussy swallowed him whole, right down to the base.

Dave felt her tighten around him, and for a moment he held his breath as she adjusted to his girth. She was slick enough that she'd already taken him in one stroke, but he could feel her stretching to fit him. Feel the way she clenched and released as she accommodated his size.

"Fuck...." Dave said, with a groan of his own as his hands reached for her waist. He gripped her roughly, his thumb and index finger on each hand digging into her skin.

Lucia began to move. She didn't just bounce; she rolled her hips with her rise and fall, grinding down on him with a purposeful, milking motion that matched the rhythm of the song.

"You feel amazing. So thick," Lucia moaned.

She maintained the same measured pace for over a minute, hands resting on his chest to help brace herself. Every downward grind had her working him at just the right angle, her movements deliberate and controlled. He was buried deep, and with each roll of her hips, she massaged him from tip to base in a slow, maddening rhythm.

Then, all of a sudden, she stopped moving. Dave looked at her questioningly before he felt what she was doing. She tightened herself around his cock, her inner walls contracting in pulses that felt to him like he was being squeezed by soft velvet. Dave's breath hitched. His hips jerked involuntarily beneath her, and she felt him twitch inside her with each squeeze.

"Do you feel that?" Lucia breathed, her voice low and sultry. "I can finish you like this, if you'd like."

"I can last," Dave said, as if challenged.

"Not if I don't want you to."

"Prove it," Dave replied.

She surprised him again as she released the pressure and began to move once more. This time, however, she reached up and gripped the top of the couch on either side of his head. Lucia shifted her hips high, nearly pulling completely off his length, before slamming back down with a loud slapping sound of skin against skin. She did it again and again. Over and over as she picked up the pace, her breasts bouncing dramatically in front of his face with each impact.

Dave couldn't resist. He leaned forward and caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. She cried out, her rhythm faltering for a second before she adjusted, angling herself so he could keep his mouth on her while she continued to bounce. Her hand came up to cradle the back of his head, pressing him harder against her breast.

She let him have his fill for a moment, indulging him. But she knew the last song was approaching, and so she pulled back, releasing his head as she did so.

"Fuck up into me. Hard. Hold me tight," Lucia said as she grabbed his wrists and forced his hands tighter around her waist. "I won't break."

Dave heeded her words and gripped her powerfully as she slammed down on him.

As expected, the song changed and was replaced by the stomping drumbeat of "Do I Wanna Know?" by the Arctic Monkeys. The gritty guitar sound filled the room.

Lucia adjusted her position instantly. She planted her hands on his thighs behind her for leverage and leaned back, shifting the angle entirely. At the same time, she switched up the tempo of her riding, matching the steady drums as she pistoned herself up and down on him. She was grunting with the effort, the slow, languid grind long gone and replaced by an aggressive fuck. The wet slap of their bodies meeting carried over the music, punctuated by the creak of leather beneath them.

"Do I have the job?"

"Shut up and ride me," Dave said, as he closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation.

He was close. The friction as she glided over him was intensely pleasurable. There was no mistaking the feeling of her internal muscles fluttering and clenching around his shaft. Likewise, there was no ignoring the incredible warmth as she engulfed every inch of him over and over. Or how she somehow gripped him tighter with every downward stroke as she rode him.

The base of his spine tingled, his balls drawing up tight. Each time she slammed down, he could feel himself hitting deep. He could hear the filthy sounds of her pussy taking him. It all combined to push him right to the edge. Then she clenched around him mid-stroke, that same velvet squeeze from before, and it shattered what little control he had left.

It was too much, and he knew he couldn't hold on any longer. He released her waist and gripped the leather of the couch in his hands as he exploded. He groaned loudly as he emptied himself into her, his body going still as his orgasm ripped through him. Lucia didn't stop, instead continuing to move on him, riding him with only slightly reduced fervor as he came in her.

As she milked the last drops out of his balls, she began to slow. The sounds of his groans were now replaced by her own breaths, strained from the exertion. Eventually, she stopped moving and simply rested on top of him as she recovered.

After waiting several moments, without fanfare, Lucia lifted herself up.

As she moved off him, she felt him slide out of her. She got to her feet and walked toward his large desk and the box of tissues strategically placed there. Lucia could feel his release beginning to trickle out of her. She didn't react overtly, and merely reached for several tissues to deal with the mess quickly and efficiently.

She studied the odd-looking clock sitting on his desk while cleaning herself up. It didn't match the room at all, and she found it to be completely out of place.

"Well, that was pretty good. And to answer your earlier question, yes. You have the job," Dave said, now composed enough to pull his pants up and put his cock away, while staying seated.

"Great," Lucia responded cheerfully.

She tore her eyes away from the strange timepiece and retrieved her thong, pulling it back on before she reached for her top.

"You can come in tomorrow morning and we'll go over the rules and what is expected of you."

"I'll be here," Lucia said.

With her top now firmly back in place, Lucia smiled at him one last time before turning and heading toward the door.

"Just one question before you head out. Is Mariana Rodriguez your real name?" Dave asked her, his eyes locked onto the back of her head.

Lucia froze with one hand on the door handle.

What the fuck?

She turned to face him, her practiced smile already restored before she answered. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, when you filled out the application and provided us with your photos and details, I did a background check. Just something we've started doing lately. It's fairly standard, you understand," Dave said, his smile turning condescending.

"Oh, of course. It sounds very reasonable. You can't be too careful these days," Lucia said.

"Absolutely. So you can imagine my surprise when I couldn't find any record of you. Anywhere."

Lucia feigned shock for a moment and then resumed her earlier smile. "You know what it must be? I wrote down Mariana because that's what my mother used to call me. Mariana is my middle name, you see."

"Ah, that makes sense, I suppose," Dave said, still eyeing her as a hawk might its prey. "And your given name is?"

"Lucia," she answered quickly.

"So if I check for Lucia Mariana Rodriguez, I'll find you?" Dave asked.

"I'm sure you will."

"Fantastic. In that case, I'll see you tomorrow. Ciao, Lucia!" Dave said.

Lucia's face dropped, just for a beat, as he said his farewell in Italian. She nodded her head at him before leaving the office.

Dave watched the door shut behind her and sighed, still enjoying the clarity that so often came with sexual release. He liked her. She was willing and smart. But he also knew to be careful. He didn't know why she had lied about her name and, frankly, he didn't much care. She wouldn't be the first woman in his club to want to escape her old life or keep her new occupation hidden. But he had to make sure she was solid. He couldn't risk not doing his due diligence. If the new name didn't check out, he'd deal with it.

He hoped it would. Mariana, or Lucia, or whoever the hell she claimed to be, was a fantastic fuck. He was looking forward to having her again. One thing was bothering him, though, and he couldn't quite shake it.

When Gambini came in, he hadn't introduced himself. She had already known his name.

***

Lucia walked with a purposeful stride through the club, trying to ignore the debauchery around her as she headed toward the exit. She was barely present as she internally analyzed what had happened.

There had been hiccups, that was for sure. She hadn't expected Miller to do a background check on her, and when he asked for her real name, she had panicked and said Lucia. Lucia Mariana Rodriguez didn't exist. He wouldn't find anything on her either. She'd have to see to that, and quickly.

The other wrinkle had been Gambini's reaction to her. He hadn't looked impressed, and her gaffe in speaking to him in Italian hadn't helped matters. She would still attempt to insert herself into his orbit. She had to try, but she knew it likely wouldn't be through seducing him. Even if she was successful and he bedded her as planned, he'd never see her as anything more than a quick fuck. She needed girlfriend access, or at the very least mistress status, and she knew she wasn't going to get that from Salvatore Gambini.

That left Nico and Dave. The son had spent a good portion of their introduction subtly checking her out, or at least what he thought was subtle. She had noticed, and that meant he was a good possibility. As for Dave, well, she'd already laid the groundwork there.

She had intended to play a more "push and pull" game. Tease and denial. But after hearing Gambini counsel Dave not to hire her, she couldn't risk not getting the job. She had known instantly that the safe play was to fuck him.

It hadn't been too unpleasant. He was an ugly runt of a man, but he was certainly packing. There was no doubting that he had a nice cock, and in a full session, she was sure he could make her cum. At one point while riding him, she had considered her own gratification, but had resisted the urge to indulge. That little audition had been purely about him, and so she had ignored her own desire and focused on his experience.

And that was what she had given him. An experience. Guys like Miller had sat through a thousand lap dances, many of them performed by women with more skill and technique than her. So he'd want the show. The act. Not just the sex, but the performance to go with it. She knew he'd enjoyed it, so that part had gone well, at least.

Still, Dave may have been the key to getting her foot in the door, but Gambini and Nico were the real targets. For any of this to work, she needed details and access an outsider would never get. And that meant getting Lara on board with the plan was vitally important. Lucia knew her odds were much better with Lara back at The Pearl and under her control. She'd given Lara the carrot of her boyfriend's release. She hoped it would be enough to convince her.

Lucia ignored the two bouncers ogling her as she retrieved the coat she had left at the front of the club upon entering and quickly headed out of The Pearl and toward where she had parked. She opened the driver-side door and slid inside. The moment her ass hit the seat, she picked up her phone and dialed.

The line clicked a couple of times before a demure voice said, "We aren't available at this time. Please leave your message after the beep."

Lucia waited for the tone before speaking.

"This is Agent Lucia Mendez, ID four, four, three, one. Initial contact went well, but I need a full identity creation for one 'Lucia Mariana Rodriguez.' Birth certificate, driver's license, Social Security number, the works. Today. This is mission-critical. Miller is running checks now, and this has to pass muster. Get the guys to pull an all-nighter if you have to. If I show up tomorrow without it, we may as well all pack up and head home. Use the same photograph as Mexico. Send a courier as soon as it's done."

Lucia ended the call and tried to relax as she sank into the driver's seat. She hoped they could work fast enough and that the documents would pass a cursory inspection, at least. Dave didn't worry her, but she knew Gambini wouldn't mess around. If he discovered who she was, he'd put a bullet in her head before she could blink.

Lucia startled as the phone in her hand vibrated. She looked down at the screen and didn't immediately recognize the number. She answered anyway, hoping it wasn't bad news.

"Hello?"

"Uh.... hello. It's Lara," the voice on the line said.

"Lara, it's great to hear from you. How did your visit with Alan go?" Lucia asked, trying to project cheerfulness into her voice.

"It went okay, I guess. Listen, Lucia. I've been thinking about what you said. The deal you offered. If you can get him out, then I'll do it. I'll help. I'll come work with you at The Pearl."

***