Role Play by Susan Wright Page B

And she, in her ignorance, had agreed.
    It was wrong to take advantage of her. But I couldn’t regret it, and that probably made me a bad man.
    Then again, it wasn’t my fault. I’ve always been told I’m bad.
    The fact that I went around letting people think I’m a rich airline executive also proved that early prediction. But I only took advantage of women who were after me because of my money, so who was to blame for that?
    Sierra was hiding something behind that gaudy wig. Now was my chance to find out what it was.
    I went through glass door of the bar. It was once a Chinese massage parlor named Happy Endings, and the name had stuck when it was turned into a bar. Across the front of the building was the fuchsia awning with Chinese characters that proclaimed the services the massage parlor used to offer.
    Inside it was sleek and modern, with glazed concrete floors and frosted glass partitions. I passed the stairs that went down to a big open space in the basement, and went to the main bar in the back. It was busy, like it always was for Pleasure Salon. People liked a low pressure event like this where they could meet in public. Since it was a bar, and people were drinking, there was no playing allowed.
    Sierra wasn’t at the bar or seated in the two rows of banquets. I went downstairs to find the room filled with moving light. A show was going as two people twirled short ropes with balls of fire on the end.
    I homed in on Sierra among the crowd along the side. The cocktail tables were filled with people standing around watching the show.
    I worked my way through the crowd in her direction. Sierra didn’t see me coming. She was focused on the performers. Her black halter dress clung to her curves, making an enticing package.
    I noticed that Sierra never scanned the crowd or the stairs when more people came down, so she wasn’t waiting for someone. Like last time at the Chamber, she was here alone. And she wasn’t chatting up the men around her who kept giving her appreciative smiles in the rare times she looked away from the performers. She wasn’t on the prowl.
    What other re ason than friends or meeting someone new would bring her to Pleasure Salon? The more I looked, the more it didn’t add up.
    The fire master up front started flogging the two girls with flaming whips. The girls squealed, probably more for effect than in real pain.
    Now Sierra looked away from the show. With shaking hands, she dug out her lipstick and a tiny mirror, and quickly touched up her dark red lips.
    I moved up next to her elbow. “Is that part of your disguise, Sierra?”
    When she recognized me, her expression was shocked, angry and, yes, turned on. She was turned on!
    I knew it. I couldn’t have gone so far if she hadn’t been right there with me. I hadn’t mistaken the way her hips had ground into me, the way her eyes never left mine, the instant connection we had formed in the midst of our scene. All week I kept thinking it was a psycho delusion that rapists probably felt, but here was the evidence in her eyes.
    She broke her gaze, turning her head away. “You have some balls coming up to me. After what you did.”
    Her voice was low and husky, like she was overwhelmed by the memory of it. I leaned in closer, wishing I could rid us of the barrier of her overly curly wig.
    “I’ll go upstairs with you,” I murmured. “Turn myself in to the producers. We’ll tell them how I scared you. I’ll do whatever they say.”
    Her startled eyes met mine. “You wouldn’t.”
    “They’ll say I’m a jerk who shouldn’t have done a mindfuck scene with someone I just met. And they’d be right.” I leaned in to lower my voice. “But I couldn’t resist you.”
    We seemed locked together, the rest of the bar disappearing. We were wrapped together in the darkness, as all the other eyes were focused on the flickering lights.
    My fingertips brushed her cheek, silky soft.
    She flinched. “Don’t touch me.”
    “I won’t until you