Kingsley wrapped his arm around Blaise’s hips and lightly pinched her clitoris between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you have a preference?” he whispered in her ear. “Ass? Pussy? Both?”

Blaise laughed. “All of the above.”

“Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because you know me so well, monsieur. Inside and out.”

Kingsley lubricated both her holes thoroughly, and Blaise moaned from the pleasure of his fingers on her and inside her. He rolled on a condom and entered her from behind. As she was standing it took a few minutes to work past the tight ring of muscle that wanted to keep him out. But he pushed in while Blaise pushed back, and soon he was deep inside her. Irina handed him the vibrator, which he slid slowly into her vagina.

“Oh, God...” Blaise gasped—the last two coherent words she spoke for a while. Irina played with Blaise’s bound breasts while Kingsley fucked her standing up. Irina squeezed and pinched, slapped and teased—inflicting pain both sharp and subtle.

He focused his attention on Blaise’s body—the tightness of her around his cock, the smell of her long hair—jasmine—the scent of her skin—Chanel No. 5, Marilyn Monroe’s perfume—the softness of her hips that he grasped, the sounds of her voice as she gasped and groaned and came, not once but twice in a row. He increased the speed of his thrusts and came, too, the orgasm almost painful in its intensity.

With a final kiss on Blaise’s neck, he uncoupled their bodies. A few drops of her own wetness landed on the floor between her feet when he pulled the vibrator from her. He went into the bathroom and cleaned off while Irina untied Blaise. Like a good and sadistic dominatrix, Irina made Blaise clean up her own mess off the floor. He returned to find Blaise stretched out on the bed, flushed and happy, as Irina knotted up her rope.

“A good day’s work,” Kingsley said to Irina. “What do you think?” He pinched Blaise’s toes.

“She’s hired,” Blaise said with a wide grin. Her eyes sparkled and her skin glowed. Was there anything more beautiful in the world than a sated woman? “That was glorious.”

“Did I pass?” Irina asked Kingsley. “Am I ready for the real thing?”

“Your aim is excellent, attitude is perfect and you certainly played the part beautifully. You forgot one very important thing.”

“What thing?” Irina scowled at him. “What did I do wrong?”

Kingsley reached into his pocket and pulled out ten one-hundred dollar bills. He held them out to Irina who reached for them. He pulled his hand back at the last second.

“Clients pay in advance.” He put the money back in his pocket and walked out, certain Irina would never forget that detail ever again.

He walked upstairs to his office and collapsed onto the couch by the window. Good session. Great kink. Irina would make a world-class dominatrix. With her and Felicia as his top dommes, every man in the tri-state area who had even once fantasized about feeling a woman’s boot on the back of his neck would come crawling to them, begging to be let into the club. A beautiful dream that might never come true. Fuller still wasn’t budging. Kingsley still wasn’t giving up. This staring contest had gone on long enough. One of them would have to blink.

Before Kingsley could finish his thought, Blaise burst into his office in her bathrobe.

“King—I need you. The cops are here.”

“Cops? Why?”

“Irina. She’s under arrest.”

“For what?” Kingsley grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. He raced down the stairs and found Irina in handcuffs being escorted to a waiting squad car.

“What is this?” he demanded of the officer. “What’s the charge?”

“She poisoned her husband,” the officer said. “So I hear.”

“That charge was dropped,” Kingsley said, standing between Irina and the squad car.

“Looks like they picked the charge back up again. Excuse me. I don’t want to have to arrest you, too.”

“King, it’s okay,” Irina said. “You did your best.”

“I’ll get you out,” he promised her. “Don’t talk to anyone. Not a word. I’ll call our lawyer.”

She put up no fight as the officer shoved her in the car and drove away. He watched them disappear around the block.

“Mr. Edge?” came a voice from behind him. “Kingsley Edge.”

Kingsley turned around and found a bike messenger waiting for him.

“Oui?”

“Delivery.” The boy handed him two envelopes—one large manila envelope and one small white envelope. He rode off before Kingsley could say another word.

He opened the large manila envelope first and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He flipped through them while he walked back into the town house.

“King? What is it?”

“It’s from the health department,” he said, not believing what he was reading. “They’re shutting down the Möbius for health code violations.”

“Health code violations?” Blaise repeated. “Because of the...you know?”

The sex club in the back. Someone had tipped off the health department. And who worked at the Möbius? Who knew Irina was staying at his house?

Blaise ran her hands through her hair.

“King, what’s going on? What happened?”

Kingsley closed his eyes.

“Sam happened.”