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  Be there tonight at nine
o’clock.”   He slid his phone back
into his pocket, and then his eyes slid up my body.   “Wear the sexiest thing you own.”

 
    ***

 
    I’d done what I was told.   I was ready by eight, dressed in the
sexiest thing I owned.   Well, the
sexiest thing my roommate, Julia, owned.   She’d let me borrow a little black dress that was too big for her. Which
meant it was a little too small for me.  
    It plunged down in the front, showing off
my ample cleavage, and hugged my hips before ending right above the knee.   I’d blown my hair out into big waves,
then slipped into high-heeled stilettos.   Bangle bracelets adorned my wrist, and dangly silver earrings clinked as
I walked.
    Noah sent me a text at 8:15.
    Are
you ready?
    Ready.
    Willing?
    Willing.
    Show
me what you’re wearing.
    I snapped a selfie and sent it to him,
and the reply was immediate.
    I
can’t wait to get you out of that dress.
    I paced around my apartment until my
phone finally rang at 8:30.
    It was Jared.
    “Hello, Miss,” he said, which felt weirdly
formal, since he knew such intimate details of my life.   “Are you ready for your evening?”
    “I am, Jared, thanks,” I said.   “I’ll be right out.”
    I went to grab my purse before realizing
that wherever Noah was taking me, there was no way I could bring my huge messenger
bag.   I needed something sleek and
tiny.
    I rummaged around in my closet before
coming up with a tiny black Coach wristlet.   I started switching over the essentials – lipstick,
keys, ID, cash…. All the small stuff was in the bottom of my messenger bag, so
I had to pull everything out to get to it, including the file folder I’d been
given on Noah’s case, the one I’d been avoiding looking at.
    It dropped to the floor as I went to grab
my credit card out of my wallet, the documents spilling out onto the carpet.
    I reached down to pick them up.
    And then I froze.
    It was a picture of Dani DeClair, another
one from her autopsy.   The top was
labeled “DeClair, Dani.”   Only this
one was a split frame, with a picture from another woman’s autopsy on the other
side of the page.   “Hogan, Nora” it
was labeled.   Noah’s ex-fiancé.
    The pictures were taken from the same
angle, close up on both women’s wrists.   It was an unremarkable shot, especially for autopsy photos.   The pictures hadn’t been taken because
they were gory or shocking in any way.   They were taken because of their similarities.
    Both women had matching light red marks
on their wrists, circling around as if they’d been tied by something.  
    The same exact marks I had on mine.

 
    Noah

 
      I got to the club promptly at nine, and made my way
inside.   It wasn’t my usual
place.   Charlotte wasn’t ready for
Force, and I didn’t want to scare her off before we’d even started.   Besides, I liked my anonymity.
    I ordered bottle service for a table in
the corner and watched as men and women gyrated on the dance floor, their
bodies a tangled mess.   The women
were beautiful and came in all shapes and sizes, blonde, brunette, curvy, fit,
skinny, tan, freckled…whatever you were searching for, you could find it here.
    The men who frequented this club were
very rich.   And very rich men
tended to attract very beautiful women.
    I watched as a man placed a collar on a
stunning Brazilian girl and began leading her to the VIP area downstairs.
    My cock strained against my pants.   Not because I had any interest in the Brazilian
girl – no, quite the opposite.   All of these women were nothing compared to Charlotte, with her curvy
hips and voluptuous body, her gorgeous tits and pouty little lips.   I was hard because I couldn’t stop
thinking about her, imagining how innocent she was, how cute her little tantrum
had been earlier in the lobby of her building.
    You
shouldn’t have invited her here.
    I knew that.
    But I couldn’t resist.  
    I needed to make her mine.   It was pull