Justice in the Shadows (14 page)

Sandy gave a startled cry, drove her fingers into Mitchell’s hair, and pressed her breast harder to Mitchell’s mouth. “Oh my god.
Dell.”

Mitchell was on fire. All day, the memory of being with Sandy—her smell, the softness of her skin, her surprised cries of pleasure—had simmered just below the surface of her consciousness. All day she’d wanted her, and now, now she couldn’t touch her enough.

“Dell,” Sandy gasped, tugging at Mitchell’s hair. “Dell, take your shirt off. Come on, baby…let me feel your skin.”

With her lips still around Sandy’s nipple, sucking the hard knot of flesh relentlessly, Mitchell began tearing at her clothes, pulling her shirt from her jeans, fumbling at her fly. Sandy’s hands joined hers and finally she had to release Sandy’s breast long enough to lean back and remove her shirt. In the next instant, Sandy’s hands were on her, running over her breasts and abdomen, pushing below the edge of her jeans. Everywhere, everywhere she burned.

“Sandy.” Shivering with need, Mitchell looked up into Sandy’s eyes. “I want to taste you. Please…is it okay?”

Sandy’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled as she framed Mitchell’s face. “You have…such a fabulous mouth.”

Still kneeling, Mitchell groaned as Sandy’s hands moved lower beneath the waistband of her open jeans. “Do not…go there,” she warned, her stomach board-hard with arousal as she pulled away.

“Hey!” Sandy protested.

“Be patient.” Carefully, Mitchell slid Sandy’s tight black slacks down and off, then drew her fingertips up the inside of Sandy’s smooth thighs. Sandy, heavy-lidded and breathing quickly, was propped on her elbows, watching her.

“Okay?” Mitchell’s voice was hoarse.

Sandy nodded, placing one hand behind Mitchell’s neck. “Uh-huh. Better even.”

Mitchell let Sandy guide her head down, closing her eyes as she immersed herself in the warm, wet welcome. The first kiss drew a sound of surprised pleasure, the next a long sigh, and when she carefully traced the delicate folds and firm prominences with her tongue, a sob of joy. Sandy’s fingers on the back of her head pulled her closer, and as she played the nerve bundle with her tongue, she unconsciously lowered one hand to stroke herself.

“Ohh,” Sandy gasped, jerking nearly upright, both hands on Mitchell’s head now, holding her close, just holding on. “Dell…Dell, I’m gonna come.”

Mitchell swiftly forgot her own needs, bringing both hands beneath Sandy’s hips, holding her fast as she carried her higher. Breath suspended, she followed the rise and fall of Sandy’s hips, timed her strokes to the pulse beating between her lips, and thrilled to the sensation of her lover climaxing in her mouth.

Sandy grabbed a handful of Mitchell’s hair and tugged weakly. “C’mere.” She edged one leg between Mitchell’s thighs. “Oh, you’re really wet.”

“Yeah. You make me so hot.” Mitchell turned her face to Sandy’s neck and kissed her. She wanted to come, but she never wanted the excitement to end, so she held very still, holding back. “You feel so good.”

Sandy put her mouth to Mitchell’s ear and whispered, “Come on my leg.”

The words shot through Mitchell like a bolt of lightening, triggering her nerve endings, everything going off at once. Her control shattered, and she came with a shout.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Sandy soothed, stroking the length of Mitchell’s back. “You’re so sexy, Dell. God.”

“You kill me,” Mitchell mumbled.

“Mmm. I like that.” Sandy tightened her hold, feeling at once incredibly strong and incredibly vulnerable. Mitchell did scary things to her.

But when Mitchell sighed, “Yeah, me, too,” all Sandy really felt was happy.

“Will you stop fidgeting?”

“It tickles.”

“Aww.” Sandy drew the brush along Mitch’s jaw. “I bet you didn’t give Jasmine a hard time.”

“Jasmine wasn’t standing between my legs.” Mitch shifted on the stool, and Sandy pushed closer, making Mitch gasp.

“Good thing,” Sandy muttered. “She’s way too hot.”

“Not interested.”

“Shut up, Mitch. You’ll ruin my line.” Sandy switched to a pencil and widened the already dark brows. “So, where you goin’?”

“Jasmine is taking me to the Troc. Depending on how things go, I might go out clubbing with some of the kings later. The sooner the better, Frye says.”

Sandy reached down and gently squeezed Mitch’s crotch. “Just make sure you don’t spend it anywhere else tonight.”

Mitch got wet and hard.
Shit.
“If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna
spend it
right here.”

“Mmm. I can do fast.”

“I
can’t
.”

“Liar.” Sandy reached down between his legs again.

“Not right
now,
anyhow.” Mitch grabbed her hand. “Will you give me a break?”

Sandy laughed again. “No freakin’ way.” She kissed him, seriously this time, until she felt him start to rock against her, then she stepped back. “See ya later then, stud.”

“Jeez, you’re a tease.”

“Mmm, you complainin’?”

“You hear me complaining?” Mitch murmured, sliding off the stool and pulling her close. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. Man, I want to.”

“Sure. So go already, since you’re no good for anything else right now.” She kissed him one last time to soften the words.

“I’ll be good later.”

“Promises, promises.” But she was smiling as he walked out the door.

———

Jasmine wore figure-hugging deep red slacks, a scoop top, and a short shiny black vinyl jacket. “Sandy did a great job. You look great. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever gonna be.”

“You okay on the background stuff we reviewed?” Jasmine hooked a hand around Mitch’s forearm as they walked. “I’ll be with you tonight, and we’ll just hang out. Tomorrow I’m performing though, so you’ll be on your own for a while then.”

“I can handle it.”

Jasmine slid her arm around Mitch’s waist as they reached the door of the club. “I have no doubt.”

Immediately inside the door a burly guy in a tight black T-shirt and black jeans stood with arms folded across his massive chest.

“Hi, Ronnie.”

“Hi, Jas.” He leaned over and delicately kissed her cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Ronnie, this is Mitch.”

He held out his hand. “Yo.”

“Hey,” Mitch said, shaking the huge hand which was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Is Kennie here?” Jasmine asked.

“Sure. He’s in the lounge with a few of the other guys.”

Jasmine took Mitch’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Mitch took a deep breath.
Show time.

The lounge was a paneled, low-ceilinged space with a sofa, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table and a pool table. Two drag kings stood, cue sticks in hand, intently studying the lie of the balls on the faded green felt. A third sat with his booted feet propped up on the table, watching the game, a beer bottle in one hand. All three were dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and boots, and all had the smooth-faced, androgynous features so typical of drag kings. One had a small trim mustache that looked real, one had convincing sideburns, and all of them were flat-chested.

Mitch couldn’t help a quick glance at their crotches, wondering how he measured up.
Nothing too obvious. Guess I’m okay there.

The seated guy rose as they walked around the pool table toward him. He was Mitch’s height and a few pounds heavier with a small tattoo, a kanji symbol from the looks of it, low on the side of his neck.

“Jasmine! Hey, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Jasmine dipped her head and kissed him on the mouth. “Hi, Kennie.” She tugged Mitch forward. “Ken, this is Mitch. Mitch, Ken Dewar, the troupe leader of the Front Street Kings.”

“Hey,” Ken said, extending his hand.

The drag king with the mustache snorted. “Yeah, make
him
sound important, why don’t ya.”

“Aww,” Jasmine soothed. “We all know how special
you
are, Dino.”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned. “Hiya, I’m Dino.”

“Mitch.” Mitch shook hands all around. The third guy Mitch recognized from the Front Street Kings’s website. Phil E. Pride.

“Mitch just moved up here from DC. I thought you guys could show him around.”

Ken lifted a shoulder and looked Mitch over. “You perform, Mitch?”

Mitch shook his head. “Nope. No talent. At least not on stage.”

That drew a laugh.

“What brings you up here?”

“A girl.”

Ken raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jasmine.

“Oh, not me, Ken.” Jasmine smiled sweetly. “You know I adore every one of you, but you’re way too much men for me…” They all laughed. “And I am oh so already taken.”

“I keep hoping,” Ken said.

“I’m going to go talk to some of the girls,” Jasmine said. She squeezed Mitch’s arm. “I’ll see you later, stud.”

“Okay.”

Mitch took the seat opposite Ken in one of the lumpy chairs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I haven’t been here very long and I’m trying to get a sense of the scene. It’s tough, you know…on your own.”

“Most kings hang here, because of our shows. There’s seven of us in the troupe, and maybe that many regulars who aren’t performers.” Ken reached for his beer. “You looking for a job?”

“I could use one. I’ve got a straight day gig, but it doesn’t pay much.” Mitch grinned. “Like I said, I’m not looking to perform. I used to be a bouncer, and I can do almost anything around a bar.”

“Ought o be able to find something around here then.” Ken propped his feet back up on the coffee table. “So—you’re friends with Jasmine.”

“Yep.” Mitch waited, sensing Ken considering that fact.

“You interested in the club scene or is the thing with your girl serious?”

“It’s serious,” Mitch replied. “But I’m not married.”

And just like that, he was in.

———

“What did you say your name was?”

“Sandy.” Sandy turned her back on the guy at the end of the bar who was giving her the once over. “Lucy said maybe you could put me with this movie guy to make some fast cash.”

Trudy, the thin Asian girl from the video, looked away. “Lucy sent you?”

Sandy nodded, then swiveled on her seat as a hand stroked her shoulder. It was the guy from the end of the bar. “Buzz off, will ya?”

“What’sa matter, honey? You too
busy
or something?”

The guy moved his hand lower, brushing the side of her breast.

Sandy’s eyes narrowed and, without moving anything but her arm, she slid a hand up the inside of his leg and closed her fingers around his balls. Then she squeezed, gently. “Well…”

He smiled.

She kept squeezing.

His smile turned to surprise, and then his eyes suddenly widened in shock. “Jesus,” he whispered desperately. “Let go.”

“I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“Okay, okay.” His knees buckled, and he grabbed the edge of the bar. “Ah, Christ…please.”

His eyes started to tear, and satisfied, Sandy released her hold. “Goodbye now.”

“Bitch,” he croaked, but his voice lacked any venom.

The girl with Sandy watched the stranger limp carefully away. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll be waiting outside for you?”

“Most of the time they’re too drunk by then to do anything, but I’ll go out the back just in case. So—can you help me out?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Look, if you do, I’ll split the money with you.”

Trudy’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“It’d be worth it to me. I’m tired of blowing slime balls like that guy over there for small change.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Trudy picked at a nail. After a minute, she said, “I’ll ask around.”

“Hey, thanks.” Sandy tried not to look as happy as she felt.
I earned my money tonight, Frye.
“So let me give you my number, ‘k?”

When Sandy left the bar on Delaware Avenue it was almost four in the morning. Ordinarily, she would have strolled over to the strip on Locust and tricked for another two hours in the dark alleys or front seats of parked cars. Tonight she headed home, hoping that Mitch, or Dell, would be there waiting.

Rebecca groaned and reached for the phone. “Frye.”

“It’s Sloan. I have to talk to you.”

“What time is it?”

“Five.”

“How important?”

“Very.”

“Ah, Christ. Okay.” Rebecca sat up and pushed the sheets aside. “Your place?”

“That’ll work. I’ll wake Jason.”

“You need the rest of the team?”

“It can wait til later.”

“Am I gonna like this?”

“Maybe.”

Catherine waited until Rebecca put down the phone. Voice fuzzy with sleep, she asked, “Everything okay?”

“Sloan has something.”

“Call me later.” She burrowed back into the pillow.

Rebecca smiled, walked around to Catherine’s side of the bed, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Lips close to her lover’s ear, she whispered, “What’s the matter? Something tire you out last night?”

“Mmm.” Eyes closed, Catherine smiled at the memory. “Something.”

———

Mitch stood uncertainly before the door to 3B, listening intently for any sound from the other side.

“Sandy?” he called softly, tapping very gently. He waited a minute, then turned to go down the hall to his own apartment. The door behind him opened.

“Hey.”

Mitch spun around, heart racing. “Hi.”

“Where ya goin’?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you know…it’s late. Early…whatever.”

Sandy wore only a pair of dark string bikini underwear and a tank top. She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, her eyes moving slowly over Mitch’s body. He looked even better than she’d remembered in his black T-shirt and leathers. “So, you wanna come in?”

Mitch nodded, trying not to look as hungry for her as he felt. “Yeah.”

“How was your night?” She didn’t move.

“Long.” He moved to the opposite side of the threshold and stretched an arm up along the frame, tilting his body toward hers, but not touching her. And inch separated them, and he could feel her heat across the chasm, penetrating his clothes, soaking into his skin. His insides twisted he wanted her so bad.