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7

My heart’s in my throat as I walk down the block where the store should be. According to the card Arden gave me, it’s located at 723, so it should be in the middle of the row of storefronts.

I parked in the nearest garage, looking over my shoulder the entire time. I don’t know what I expect, really. Will Adam jump out from nowhere and kidnap me? That would mean he’d be following me around all the time, and I doubt that because he can’t possibly know where I am. Besides, Chicago is a big city. It’s silly to imagine him spotting me among so many other people. It’d be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Still, I’m apprehensive, walking with my shoulders hunched and my arms crossed in front of me. My head’s on a swivel, my eyes darting this way and that. I’m sure anybody looking at me would think I probably stole something and shoved it under my puffy coat that’s a little too big for me, thanks to the rigid diet I’ve been on. I wonder how long it will take before I feel confident enough to walk down the street like a normal person.

All the more reason for me to get the hell out of this city, which means doing what Arden wants and going to this store.

Only there isn’t a store. At 721 is a store that sells sneakers, ball caps, and jerseys. And at 725, there’s a pharmacy.

Between them is a narrow, three-story building of slate-gray stone. It has tall, windowless doors, and the existing front windows are backed with what looks like plywood. The glass is there, but the plywood behind it blocks any hint of light from filtering through.

This can’t be it. There’s not even a sign. It looks abandoned.

It’s the absence of weeds in the cracks on the sidewalk that tells me otherwise. The fact that the stoop is swept clean. And the windows, though useless, are intact. Just like the paint on the doors—not a single chip or scratch.

That doesn’t mean I feel any less queasy walking up the stairs. What goes on in this store that they can’t allow anybody to look inside? What is Arden sending me into?

There’s a small bell off to the side of the door. I jam my finger against it and pray this isn’t a huge mistake. Here I was, thinking I was such a badass after what happened last night. I guess I still have a lot of good-girl tendencies in me.

I only have to wait a moment before the door swings open to reveal a darkened entry and a second door on the other end. I realize somebody opened the front door remotely. Just another layer of mystery. I step into the entryway, the floor tiled in what looks like an ancient mosaic, while the front door swings shut behind me. The second the lock clicks, the inner door opens, and a tall, statuesque woman stands before me.

“Good morning. You must be Mira.” She stretches out a hand, her nails bloodred and shining. “My name is Cassandra. How are you today?”

Once again, not what I expected. She’s dressed in a deep purple blouse, black pencil skirt, and knee-high leather boots. Her dark hair is pulled into a clip at the back of her head. She’s tasteful, striking, and professional. What did I expect? Latex and pasties?

“I’m a little nervous,” I admit. Why not? I’m sure I must look it, my eyes almost bulging out of my head as I take in the store around us. Again, it’s surprisingly tasteful, the black floor and purple walls matching Cassandra’s outfit.

“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? I have sparkling water and juice, as well.”

“I would love some water, thank you.” Her heels click on the floor as she walks away, disappearing into a back room separated from the sales floor by velvet curtains.

“Feel free to take off your coat and make yourself comfortable,” she calls out. I do as she says, still looking around. Mannequins display various outfits: corsets, bustiers, and leather skirts. One mannequin wears a latex catsuit. I can’t imagine how a person breathes or even sits down in something so tight. What happens when you have to pee? I almost want to go over and inspect the crotch area. Maybe there’s a slit?

He doesn’t expect me to wear something like that, does he?

Cassandra appears holding a small bottle of Perrier. “Let me guess. This is your first time visiting a store like mine.”

“Wow, am I that obvious?”

She lets out an indulgent little laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite, and nobody wants you to wear anything that makes you feel uncomfortable in any way. Physically or otherwise.” She takes a step back and walks around me in a slow circle. “Yes, I think we have plenty of options here that would suit the tastes of the men who sent you.”

My cheeks flush at the thought of them. “Are they, like, customers of yours?”

“Let’s just say we have a working relationship. They’re generous enough to send new clientele my way, and I do everything I can to provide what they want.” She comes to a stop in front of me, tapping her chin with one of those red nails. I wonder where she gets them done—though I doubt I could afford it. Everything about her screams money.

“Is this all you have here? I mean, outfits and shoes?”

“On the second floor, we feature toys and other accessories.” She arches an eyebrow. “Are you interested?”

“I’m just trying to learn everything I can.”

“Maybe I’ll include a manual or two for you. We’re big on education here, as well.” She keeps using the word we, though she’s the only person here besides me. It would be rude of me to ask for more details, no matter how insanely curious I am. Now that I’m not so intimidated, plenty of questions are rushing in to fill the void.

She crooks her finger, beckoning me. I follow her down the rows of clothing racks lining the walls. She sizes me up, looking me up and down a few times before pulling out a few items and holding them up in front of me. I happen to catch sight of a price tag dangling from a leather corset and barely bite back a gasp. Yes, Arden gave me a lot of cash, but I would never imagine spending $400 on a single corset, no matter how beautiful it is.

“I think they’ll like this.” She drapes it over one arm before continuing to a display of what at first looks like a bunch of straps and buckles. “Thigh harnesses,” she explains before I can ask. “And we’ll get you some stockings and a pair of boots as well. And of course, you’ll need a skirt and panties.”


Tags: Darcy Rose Erotic