Chapter 2 – Sinful Entrapment
Long, manicured nails tipped in dark lacquer danced along the tops of a muscled thigh beneath tailored slacks, catching attention of its quiet owner.
Ruby lips curved in a mischievous smile. Dark lashes fanned over a twinkled gaze directed at the man in the booth she had just slid into. Those who frequent a place like this alone were easy targets. They weren't there to celebrate. There was no party-for-one.
Not for these patrons.
They were the husbands. The boyfriends. They would show up without bustle, laying low in discretion under the pretence of flimsy tales to mask their truths. These were cashcows that lined her digital wallet instead of wasting away on a bar tab. And without others around, there were fewer distractions, leaving more attention up for grabs, more hours they would stay within the cavern of her salacious playground.
The seductress preened.
She had never shied away from an opportunity, and this one sat crisply in the domain where she expertly played the predator. No conquest of hers could ever avoid the lustful avarice of her enticement. The hunt was on. She could already feel the hunger squeezing at her innards, demanding fulfillment.
Barely-there touches continued up his leg, fingertips brushing along a bent knee.
"So what brings you here tonight…" a smooth, overly sultry voice began to drip, "…all alone…?"
Their gazes met in the dark of their surroundings. Intermittent flashes of the strobe lights allowed just a small purview to the man's firm features. The place was no doubt set that way by design, providing illusion of privacy from prying eyes.
His gaze lingered just long enough to acknowledge her presence before turning to look across the spacious lounge. Velveteen, half-moon booths scattered about, each with their own circular serving table that illuminated in a cherry red.
After a moment of silence, he finally answered the question that hung in the air like bait on a hook.
"Work."
The disinterested one-worded reply did not faze her though, nor did it detract from such a prize. She had ways of loosening men up, and was always up for a challenge if the incentive was high enough. And judging by what she saw, this catch looked to be worth it.
"I see, has work been stressful?" she cooed, inching closer as their legs touched, hand lifting to crawl across his broad chest. She could feel the man beneath her palm under the rich silk of a dark button-up shirt. Lithe fingers drummed excitedly, false lashes batting like butterfly wings as kohl-lined eyes peeked in a half-lidded gaze.
"Maybe I can help with that…" In an instant, she was straddling his lap, short skirt flaring up without restriction. "How about a dance to relax?"
Without waiting for a response, prominent hips began moving in slow, sensual circles, pert breasts squeezed overly tight in a sequinned bodice, purposely arching towards the man's still-turned face. Bare thighs rubbed against the tops of his in each carnal movement as friction built.
But to her fleeting disappointment, he was still not looking at her, seemingly distracted. By what, she did not care to know. She only knew that his attention was not on her, not yet, anyway.
That would soon change.
A spark of insult was brushed aside as new tactics arose. At the drop of the next beat from the surround-sound speakers, her pelvis ground hard against his flaccid groin, hands grabbing his to place upon the skin above her knees. The man's dark eyes snapped to hers, and she gave a wicked smile. Slowly, while still employing every lure of her womanly charms, she began guiding his large hands up the apex of where long legs met, then slinking down towards the softer flesh of her inner thighs, pressing foreign fingers so close to the entrance of a thong-covered core.
"Any special requests?" Suggestive words trailed alluringly, setting her trap and waiting patiently as his smouldering stare bore into her dark brown eyes.
"Yes." The man finally answered, and she saw the first quirk of a devilish smile edge his thin lips.
Leaning closer, she donned one of her most coquettish grins. "And what would this…special request be?"
It was amusing to watch this temptress try to rouse him. Anticipation was palpable in the way her breath held for an answer. He steadily leaned back what little space was left in the seat, spine resting comfortably against the plush velvet. Hands still upon the smooth skin of her legs, the request rolled easily off his tongue.
"Get me Dana Lane."
Stiffening immediately, she gapped, incredulity slapped across her powdered face.
All that work in building up tension died in the split second that her name left his pretty mouth. No longer heated, she felt a chill like being doused in frigid water. It was only another second before she recovered from speechlessness, plastering on a fake smile once more. Unhurriedly, and with as much dignity her ego could recite at the rejection, she released his hands and slid off his lap. Once on her feet, she passed a hand to smooth down her ruffled skirt.
"Of course. I will send her your way," she said sweetly before turning from the booth, anger scowling the corners of a pouting lip once out of sight.
Platform heels stomped with aggression at the humility that steamed her temper. Pushing brashly by the other girls that worked there, she didn't even bother excusing herself as she made her way towards the shift manager. It was the most straight-forward path to get the answer needed, not wanting to waste precious time prancing around the oversized club looking for said girl like she was on some goddamn errand.
"Brian," she called curtly, approaching the bar with anger once locating the manager. "Where's Dana?"
A tall, burly man in a clean buzz cut turned to her, brows furrowing at the woman's obvious irritation. He was busy wiping down glassware, but nodded in direction of the main stage. "She's in the Bird Cage."
With a pivot, she was off heading in said direction, weaving between a few tables before coming upon the area designated for the nightly entertainment. Narrowed eyes scanned the lucrative setup and décor for the week.
About a dozen platforms were levitating at various heights, the fifty-foot ceiling of the venue giving plenty of space for aerial performances. Rows of VIP tables each had their own platform where various girls danced, twerked, and spun on their bright, neon-lit poles. Salivating old men were eagerly reaching for the strippers that would let them close enough to cop a feel – for a price. Each small, green dot that lit up on the swath of a bra cup or sliver of g-string, was another transfer of credits from the old men's palm-activated payment to the wireless receiver weaved into the scanty clothes. She'd seen men roar with delight after a booty-slapping session, only to cry at the end of the night once seeing the zeros of their drained bank account.
Envy cultivated at the unfairness of the club's rules, fists clenching until pointed nails dug into her skin. Only the girls who'd managed to bring in a certain amount of revenue or high-value clients were privy to such point-of-sale devices. The rest had to earn their way traditionally through more time-consuming means. She'd been working there for much longer than some of those sluts that shook their barely-legal asses with as much talent as dehydrated jello left to shrivel in a forgotten refrigerator. So what if they were younger than her? She was just as beautiful, and she had more experience; knew more of what men really wanted. And yet they all flocked to those twats like junkies to their dealers.
Arms haughtily crossing, she approached the platform that ended her search, looking upwards at the two performers currently within the chrome cage that curved into a dome. They were about five feet off the ground, causing her to be at eye-level to their toes. It irked her further at being in such a demeaning position.
Tuning out the cheers and leers of nearby spectators, she called out loudly and uncaring for the interruption.
"Dana!"
But the girl didn't seem to hear her, sitting upon an attached swing while the other girl worked the floor of their private stage. Pointed legs swung as she dipped around her suspended perch before coming back up again in balanced precision, white feathers occasionally falling from her embellished costume.
Disgruntled with the waste of time, she shouted in a near screech above the noise.
"DANA!"
In a snap, the girl's head shot down to look at her, finally taking notice.
"Oh, hi Mika, what's up?"
"Someone from my section asked for you," Mika answered with clear annoyance, eyes skimming with spite over the club's Little Dove. "Booth 17."
Then just as quickly as she had appeared, she pivoted and strutted away without another word.
"What's up with her?"
Looking down at her performance partner, Dana heaved a sigh, somewhat used to the dramatics by now. "She thinks I'm stealing her clients."
The other girl continued the floor routine without missing a beat, legs now splayed in a half-split for the enraptured audience. Her brown eyes shone with a yellowing hue against the champaign spotlights, turning them a dazzling caramel.
"It ain't your fault no one's calling her name as often. She needs to get that stick out her ass. No room to be playing Queen here."
Dana let out a laugh before transitioning down from the swing in practiced grace. "Ignore her. She's always in a mood."
Pressing a button to lower their platform, she stepped through the wide space between the thick bars, much to the disappointment of their crowd at the sudden intermission. She paid them no attention.
"I'll send Kayla over in a bit to take my place."
"No rush, I'll keep them entertained." The other girl simply winked and blew a kiss while stretching into a full split, voluptuous ass bouncing hypnotically.
Head shaking amusingly at the woman's antics, Dana treaded away from the VIP area, declining advances from rowdy men who stunk of tobacco-flavoured vape and cheap scotch along the way.
It wasn't long before she found booth 17 in a much quieter section of the lounge. A man was sitting there casually, enjoying a glass of aged cognac with the rest of the very expensive bottle chilling in the ice bucket on the table.
Okay, not bad. This guy had money, and not afraid to spend. At least this would be worth her time away from the main stage, she mused. Approaching in even strides, she cast on a sultry smile, speaking evenly.
"Hello, Stranger. I've heard you asked for me?"
"Miss Lane," the man answered smoothly, looking at the woman before him wearing nothing but a white bustier trimmed with delicate feathers and diamanté rivets, matching lace panties that curved her round figure perfectly, and white, strappy stiletto heels that wound up mile-long legs in cross-crossing ties. The entire outfit emitted a light blue glow under the ultraviolet black lights, rendering it easy to see the swag of her hips in each confident step.
"So formal," she teased, lowering delicately onto the empty seat next to him. From this close up, her eyes traced the handsome features that would lessen her hate for the job. "You can call me Dana, though I am curious as to how you know of me. I don't think we've met before."
Definitely not. At least not a regular. She would recall if any of her clients were this well-blessed in outward appearances. Guys who looked like that wouldn't need to come to a shady place like this to get a hard-on. She was still quietly assessing and trying to gauge what type of guy he really was when his face started leaning towards her, stopping when his cheek was but an inch from hers.
"Yet," his silky voice caressed her ear, "we have met before, Miss. Higurashi."
Air rushed out in a single breath like a tidal wave, eyes stretched wide as her head turned abruptly to regard him fully.
Shit. How did he know of her real identity? The club rules were strict on using an alias, and she had been extremely careful in keeping it a secret from clients. Could he have overheard one of the other girls talking? Did she somehow accidentally let it slip?
Trying to play it cool, she levelled her voice into a more flirtatious tone to hide any rising anxiety. "Wherever did you get that name from?"
The man arched a dark, questioning brow.
And then something clicked.
She recognized that quirk from somewhere – on a someone.
Suddenly, she gasped. "Sessh – "
The name almost leaked in a whisper before she slapped a hand over her mouth, a look of surprise keeping a jaw hung wide behind her fingers. Flashing a faint, knowing smirk, the man leaned back, an arm resting casually on the top ledge of the seat behind her while taking a long sip of the amber drink in the other.
Regaining her bearings, she leaned away slightly to get a better look, intrigued pupils indulging the mystery before her.
"When you had mentioned a disguise, I was thinking more along the lines of glasses and a fake moustache."
The surprised expression had not left her face as she roamed the sight before her, trying to reconcile the image of the demon from memory to the man sitting there. When her curious gaze landed on the flat stare of eyes no longer the colour of iridescent gold, she had to stifle a giggle as all the momentary anxiousness dissipated.
"But this is leagues better. It looks –" reaching out, dainty fingers gingerly trailed along his scalp, touching the prickly fuzz of the side fade that melded into a thick mass on top, spiked at the tips, "–and feels so real. Please tell me you didn't actually cut your hair and dyed it brown... or is it black? I can't tell in this lighting."
It was odd, but she felt a mourning loss for those white, silvery strands; whose lengths and silkiness had almost caused an unreasonable urge to chop it off for her own wig collection. She shook off the somewhat morbid thought and continued her exploration of the new appearance, stopping herself from reaching too far to grope his stripe-free cheeks. It was such a drastic change. Alabaster skin had darkened in tone, a shade or so deeper than her own skin from what she could compare in this dim setting.
"The intent was to look believable." He saw her face fall slightly at the statement, and knowing of her odd fascination with his hair over the last few weeks of their acquaintance, he added, "However, I did not cut it off. It is simply an illusion."
Hands falling away, she gestured vaguely at his person. "It's a good illusion too. It's so real…so different. You look completely human."
Eyes were still wide as she continued to gawk, a deep shade of sapphire so dark it was indistinguishable from midnight. But at the back of his head, he could sense another set of eyes aimed in their direction. So he kept his voice low, once again leaning in to speak next to her ear.
"We are being watched, from my right. Let us proceed as discussed."
Forgetting the awe of the transformation, her head tilted ever so slightly with a curious gaze slanting towards the far wall where a bouncer stood.
She recognize him as Raul; Russian in background and generally a nice guy despite his rough-looking exterior. He did his best to look out for the girls, but was not the smartest tool in the shed. And he was a big blabber mouth – about anything and everything that happened in and around the club. It was one reason she suspected for Naraku in keeping him employed. Easy gossip.
Either way, dim-witted or not, she was familiar with the look upon that bearded face. He would give that same look to patrons that were just there to watch and not spend, taking the girls' time away from actual revenue-generating clients. The routine was well rehearsed. After fifteen minutes of a guy hogging the dancers and not transacting, he would come and 'demand' they make a purchase or shoo off the girls to a different table.
Reaching over, Kagome snatched the drink from Sesshomaru's clawless hand, downing the entire thing in one go before setting the glass on the table. Giving him a knowing look, she stood. "I guess it's show time."
A press of a hidden button on the side of the booth brought a rounded platform about a metre in diameter to descend from the ceiling above. As it reached the ground, she stepped forth to grab hold of the glowing red pole in the centre before it once again ascended, stopping at the standard five feet into the air like all the others.
Sesshomaru's gaze followed as she slowly began to sway like a leaf in the wind, well-toned body slithering to the music around the shaft like she'd done it a thousand times. Her individual stage was positioned just beyond the low table to provide a perfect focal point for anyone sitting in the booth. He refilled his glass with the half-empty bottle, peeling attention away to discreetly evaluate the lounge as he had done earlier.
The sickly scent of arousal from the masses of perverted men overlay almost all other scents in the vicinity, and the loud bass made it impossible to overhear matters beyond immediate surroundings. But at least his eyes still worked perfectly, unbothered by the purplish-blue tinting his entire vision from the UV lights. It was actually preferable to the constant fluorescence he had been so used to elsewhere.
The upper deck across the room was where his rapt focus was currently held. High rollers lined endless couches facing the open drop onto the main floor. Glass railings were the only thing preventing the lecherous groups from falling over as they hooted and hollered at the female performers below. But none of that mattered. What he was interested in was the stairwell leading up to that closed-off area, and the comings and goings of silent figures that blended into nooks and crevices. Aside from the few bouncers and bar staff, none were whom he was watching for.
"Hey beautiful! How 'bout you get that sweet ass over here and gimme a lap dance? Ya?"
Sharp eyes flickered to his left where the crude remark had come from. The empty booth adjacent to his was now occupied by four seemingly intoxicated men, decked out in baggy cargo pants and flashy shirts that were all the rage for tweaked out ravers. The one that had shouted was practically on the edge of his seat, the whites of his eyeballs a prominent glow like an animal on its nightly prowl as he openly gaped.
"Sorry guys," he heard the melodic reply, turning to see Kagome finish a twirl before dipping low with knees spread apart. An arm was stretched above her head with a twisted grip on the pole, while the other swept in a presenting gesture across her front towards Sesshomaru. "I'm already booked for this lovely gentleman's table the whole night."
"Oh come on shhweetheart, you could spare a few minutes for us right?" The man continued badgering, egged on by his ridiculous-looking posse.
Sesshomaru snickered as Kagome paid them no heed, not even bothering with a response as she ducked in a sensual body roll. Each one of her movement seemed measured and calculated. They timed perfectly with each hit of the drum, motions as smooth as the deepest bassline, each kick of her heel in rhythm to the snare.
He was never one to indulge in the offerings of these types of establishments, but that did not mean he had never been witness to the art of the dance. And as he sat there watching her become one with the music, he silently admitted that she was good at what she was doing.
Natural, pitch black hair fanned in waves across bare shoulders before a flip brought her upside-down, dangling by the hook of a leg as the rest of her stretched in a very flexible arch while the pole slowly spun.
Skill and athleticism.
Her eyes caught his, and she flashed a cheeky smile. It almost looked like a frown from her inverted state. He returned a subtle smirk, taking another sip of his drink as they both ignored the rumbustious group to the side, their pestering dying down after realizing they weren't getting anywhere in attracting the dancer.
It was a few more songs later and almost the full bottle emptied that Kagome eventually came to a stop. Platform lowering, she carefully stepped off and stood in front of Sesshomaru, who had been watching her the entire time.
"They're here."
Outwardly, the demon seemed unresponsive to her statement. But with closer inspection, one could see the strain of his eyes as they looked beyond her towards the entrance as a group of men entered. An imperceptible nod was her only acknowledgement as she pivoted with the music, back facing him.
Hips began swaying side to side in figure-eight patterns, jutting pointedly to each note as she dipped lower and lower, sinking into a bent-over position. Flipping her hair to the side, she sent a half-lidded, precocious glance from over a shoulder while gradually weaving closer.
Sesshomaru remained still as Kagome danced in front of him, transitioning into a full lap dance as her barely-covered ass cheeks made contact on his thighs. Downing the rest of the cognac, he rested the glass on the table before leaning back fully, giving her space to inch closer until she was up against the planes of his chest.
Heat radiated from the body that fit so snugly up against him. The soft rising and falling of her breasts with each breath that she took caught his attention from over a shoulder, prodding at a primal urge not felt in decades.
He shut his eyes from the sight, but faint scents of lemongrass and lavender invaded with a hint of salinity from the perspiration that sheened her skin. It was fascinating, how just a brief whiff of her unique fragrance alone was enough to drive out the putrid stench of the sleazy stripclub. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for far too long. Giving in to this one, tiny indulgence, he inhaled deeply, nose brushing briefly along the side of her neck before pulling away.
There was a slight pause in her movements, withholding a shudder that yearned to escape. The tingle running down her spine at the contact felt like someone took a feather to trace her skin. She shook off the warmth that pooled in the pit of her stomach, squashing the curiousness of why it felt so different compared to all the other meaningless touches received from clients. She'll save that thought for later analysis. Right now, she had a job to do.
Pulling up closer, head was titled until her mouth came next to his ear, body still rolling bonelessly to the background tune.
"The one in the white tie is Suikotsu Kamiyama. I think he works in the bio-medical field from what I can remember. And the bald one is Renkotsu. Not sure what he does, but seems important."
She felt a nod from behind before his low voice graced her ears. "The other two following?"
Squinting, she concentrated on pinpointing any distinguishing features of the figures heading through the crowds.
"One of them seems familiar, but I'm not a hundred percent sure yet. The other one is definitely new around here."
"How often have they met before?" The group was being led by one of the staff around the VIP area and straight towards the upper deck.
Giving another small roll of her hips, she pulled for any memories of those faces to come forth. "I'm not sure. This is my first time seeing them all together."
"Hn. Suikotsu and Renkotsu seem well acquainted."
"How can you tell?"
"The distance in which they keep." Sesshomaru observed the way the first two were at least a few paces away from the other men. "The latter two may be recent connections."
Shifting, she danced back up to a stand before facing him again, all playfulness draining from her smile. He eyed her conspicuously, unsure of the intention as she came straddling down in a similar fashion to what the previous woman had done. He shot her questioning look.
"I can get close," she stated in barely above a whisper, knowing his sensitive hearing could pick up those fleeting decibels in such close proximity. Leaning in, palms were placed atop his shoulders for leverage as she languidly slid against his body, feeling taut muscles stiffening beneath as her mouth came to rest underneath a strong jawline. "I'll get you the details. Don't wait up if I take too long."
Before he could question her, Kagome had already hopped off and stepping away in direction of their targets.
This was not part of the plan. Looking around, he saw that the bouncer was once again focused in his general direction like a hounding guard dog. He couldn't go after her now to stop whatever ludicrous plan she had formed on her own. It would seem suspicious and draw attention he did not need nor want.
Couldn't that woman follow simple directions?
A frustrated growl rumbled under his breath before he waved over a waitress for another bottle. The alcohol didn't do much other than keep up appearances for the club's rent-a-cops. As the new bottle arrived, he saw Kagome emerge from across the lounge, making her way up those same stairs to the upper deck before disappearing behind a door.
A poured drink was offered in front of him, stealing attention away to look at the waitress to his side. She gave a courteous smile as he accepted the glass before going back to her duties. Downing half the contents, he settled in for the night, hoping his patience won't be running out anytime soon.
-X-
"I need a guarantee the shipments will be undetected." The voice came as a low timbre, spoken with authority and laced with an air of challenge.
"You insult me, Suikotsu. I have been doing this for a long time. No one will notice."
"I will hold you to your word. Do not disappoint. When is the next delivery?"
"Two weeks from now." A second man spoke in much smoother tones; cadence slower and unhurried, as though taking a leisurely walk in a midnight forest. "Do not give me that look. You are well aware such a task will require time to prepare."
"The lab will be behind schedule."
"And nanotech cannot be rushed." There was an undertone of irritation, though it was thinly veiled.
"You know this will displease him."
"That is of no concern of mine. We have our agreement."
Ear pressed against the door of the private lounge's ensuite washroom, Kagome could hear the conversation almost perfectly.
"Gentlemen," a third, rougher voice entered the discourse, "there will be plenty of time to talk small details. We're here to celebrate the coming together of our arrangement, are we not?"
Then, a fourth piped up. "Ryuga's right. I'm sure we can agree that all things of importance have been ironed out in our earlier discussions. It's time to sit back and relax, fellas."
"Fine. We shall discuss the details another time."
"Agreed. Now, where did that bitch from earlier go? Wasn't she supposed to be entertaining us all night?"
"I believe she is in the washroom."
Crap!
Stumbling away from the door, Kagome hurriedly ran the faucet, pretending to finish up refreshing herself just as the door knocked.
Taking one last look in the mirror to check her appearance, she counted to three before opening the door.
"Someone's impatient. " Her teasing hum came a pitch higher than normal, sounding nothing like herself.
"You were taking a while, princess," said the man standing just outside with a sly grin, black hair weaved into a long, think braid hanging over a shoulder, masculine hand holding out a tray of vodka shots. She recognized him as Bankotsu from earlier introductions. "You owe us a drink for each minute you made us wait."
Kagome blanched. There were a dozen shots lined up, each filled to the brim. She was no lightweight by any means, but how the hell was she supposed to drink all that?
Straining to keep her face neutral, she just hoped they wouldn't notice the hesitance threatening to crack the fake smile. Her jaw was beginning to hurt in keeping up the charade. Even her legs were refusing to move forward as he tugged on her arm, leading her stiffly back to the couch where the rest of the men were sitting about.
"No fair, four on one?" Playing the innocent damsel card, she looked pleadingly to the rest of the group as she sat, Bankotsu sliding in to block any paths for escape. "I can't be drinking alone all by myself – it won't be much fun. Won't you all drink with me?"
And for added effect, she batted her long lashes sweetly.
"Okay, sweetheart, we'll drink with you."
Releasing an inward sigh of relief, she turned to pick up her shot glass when she noticed Bankotsu pouring another four. Wide eyes bee-lined straight at his face to spot a malicious grin aimed her way, full of teeth.
"But you still need to finish all of yours," he continued as a shot was placed in her hand. "Drink up, buttercup."
She was screwed. There was no easy way out of this. Not if she wanted to finish what she needed to accomplish.
Kagome maintained that alluring smile, taking a deep breath before downing the first of a dozen.
-X-