Chapter 2

Had it not been for the steaming, tall hot cup of Caramel Mocha, then Sam’s sure she would have evolved into some female version of the Grinch. Thankfully, by some miracle, Briggs seemed to know that she really needs it today, especially since Adrian Carter’s raunchy photo was stuck in her mind all fucking night.A few hours of paperwork later, Sam manages to score an actual job. Which is great because at least it gets her outside and in the field. Taking Briggs with her they drive to a shadier part of town and park up in some dingy alleyway.

“So why are we here Ma’am?” asks Briggs as Sam locks up the car and makes sure it’s secure. There’d been a few times last year when some stupid kids had tried to car-jack one of the cop cars for a ‘laugh’.

“Some prostitutes been...murdered,” replies Sam in the most professional, detached tone she can muster. There’s only been a handle of cases she’s had to deal with to do with murder. She’s dealt with death, many times, more often than not it’d be a car-collision that is the cause of the tragedy. However it’s very rare it’d be murder and in those instances the murdered and murderers were shady people, who had a little too much of alcohol or some other drug. Only once has she had to go along to inspect a deceased prostitute but it turned out that she’d overdosed rather than it being a homicide.

Still, Sam was warned when she signed up for the job there’d be some pretty gruesome stuff to deal with and well...looks like they weren’t lying.

Sam’s partner, Briggs says nothing in response and both stride forward in silence. As they round the corner and pace down the narrow alleyway, Sam can see numerous paramedics standing around and looking perplexed.

Relief washes over one of the paramedics as they spot Officer Sam Torres and Officer Gale Briggs.

“Hi, I’m Ricky. I’m the one who called you guys,” he introduces walking alongside them as they cautiously approach the body.

She’s young-notes Sam with surprise. Her youthful face is dusted with make-up however even that can’t quite disguise her now ghostly pale complexion. She’s a slim girl and as expected she’s dressed scantily. Sam would have guessed her to be another overdose case, were it not for the inch wide hole straight in the middle of the girl’s forehead.

“We got a call and came right away. The caller said he’d just found her like this and he’s in shock at the moment so he’s in the van,” explains Ricky pointing to the ambulance parked outside on the road.

“Right, okay, thanks. Have you moved or examined her in any way?” asks Sam unable to stop staring at the horrific sight before her.

“No we haven’t touched her at all, we thought it’d be best to wait for you guys,” replies Ricky with a grim smile as he glances back at the girl.

“Good,” mutters Sam hypnotically.

“Alright. So...um, I guess you’ll have your own team out on this then? So we’ll just get going,” awkwardly requests Ricky. Sam gives a sturdy nod at his actions and waits as the team packs up and takes off.

As they take off a man, presumably the one who first spotted the body, stumbles shakily towards them. Snapping herself out of it, Sam tries to focus on the task at hand. She assigns Briggs the responsibility to call up the homicide unit while she strolls over to deal with the witness.

“Sir? I’m Deputy Chief Torres, I believe you were the first to spot the body?” she asks. The middle aged man, merely nods. He’s quite a frail, worn out looking thing; with an old, worn out, blue suit that seems too large for him. Along with his appearance, his frantic, wide eyes and long grown facial hair suggests to Sam that he could be some kind of drug user.

“Okay, I understand this is traumatic but I’ll need you to come with me to the police station so we can ask you a few questions. There’ll also be a psychologist there who will need to asses you. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes,” he shakily nods.

“Good. My team mate, here-Officer Briggs- will accompany you to the station and answer any queries you have,” instructs Sam nodding for Briggs to come over and take care of the man.

“I’ll come along in a moment. I need to wait for the homicide team to get here first,” says Sam in a hushed tone to her comrade.

Pretty soon just after Briggs and the guy has left, a couple of analysts arrive to examine the body. Amongst them is one of Sam’s only friends- a woman by the name of Carmen Hall. Unlike Sam she’s a completely red-blooded Latino, with straight, bronze hair streaked with golden highlights. She has a slim figure, with her hips and shoulders balancing perfectly. Sometimes Sam feels envious of the beautiful woman but Carmen’s much too bubbly and lively to truly be jealous of.

“Wow, how old is she?” whistles Carmen, in shock, sharing the same sentiments as Sam.

“I have no idea, but definitely not legal,” replies Sam stepping back to letting them to carry the body bag through to their van.

“Christ! Right, well, looks like we’ve got our hands full today then,” sighs Carmen. Sam gives a conquering smile and follows her to the van, allowing the rest of her team to photograph and clear up.

Carmen and Sam lightly chat but it’s hard to converse when there’s a dead girl in the back of the van, and guys in white, jumpsuits are squished together in silence.

The unbearable journey soon comes to an end and with relief, Sam’s glad she doesn’t have to see the body again. Trying to shake that image out of her mind, Sam walks through the office only to see the witness sat on one of the chairs outside her office. Giving the man a slight smile, she signals for him to wait a moment as she grabs her clipboard, interview paper and pen.

Emerging back out, she leads the guy into one of the interview rooms and starts questioning him on his finding.

Half an hour later and she was getting nowhere. Mr Hadley was keeping something back. She just knows it. After all, who just ‘wanders’ across a dead body in the alleyway on a busy weed-day morning? No, the guy went there for something...it’s just what? Drugs? Possibly but...something’s off. Call it intuition but Sam’s pretty sure, he didn’t kill her though. He’s just too...he just seems too shaken up about it to be the killer. But appearances can be deceiving, so she’s not going to go easy on him just yet.

Suddenly, just as she’s about to go back in, Carmen comes running in hastily. She’s panting and gleaming as she approaches Sam.

“Sam! Sam!”

“What?” laughs Sam seeing Carmen’s bright red cheeks.

“Look, look! She’s linked,” exclaims Carmen protruding a tattered rectangular piece of paper from her latex gloved hands.

Sam doesn’t it see it until she examines the paper carefully to make out the words written on there.

‘P. Santiago’

It’s all she can clearly figure but it’s enough.

“Where was it?” asks Sam, her heart skipping a beat.

My God. Sam can’t believe it. She can’t. This is just her luck. Of course, she feels terrible at the loss of the youthful life, but still...She’s can’t believe that just the other day, she’d nearly lost all her leads and now...Now, she’s got a fresh, new one. Sam feels her excitement spike, at the thrill of a renewed chase.

“In her bra,” shrugs Carmen. Sam has to force herself not to frown at that. Even now, after watching all those CSI episodes, she knows it’s the way they examine the body. But to know they actually do that...it’s...so dehumanising; almost like they’re studying an object and not a...person. Sure they’re not alive anymore but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be...treated with dignity.

Anyway, shudders Sam, it’s just the way it is and she understands it’s necessary, not that it brings her any more comfort. She vows that when she dies, she’ll have to make sure they keep her clothes and body parts completely intact.

“Okay, anything else?” asks Sam.

“Yes. Gale told me to tell you that the guy you’re interviewing was checked and contained no suspicious evidence. He also ran the guy’s fingerprints and apart from minor crimes there’s been nothing of great significance,” repeats Carmen.

“Anything drug related?” pipes Sam. Maybe the guy was there to buy some drugs and that’s how he stumbled across the girl? Or maybe he’s connected to Santiago as well.

“No, just some speeding tickets and minor theft charges,” replies Carmen causing Sam’s lips to form into a thoughtful frown. Well then, it looks like she’ll just have to drill him even harder.

“Okay, thanks Carmen.”

“No problem! Oh! And don’t forget the Annual Ball invites are being delivered today. You promised you’d come remember,” points out Carmen, causing Sam to roll her eyes. The Annual Ball, of course; such a dreadful event and definitely not Sam’s ‘scene’. She doesn’t know why they insist on holding such a pointless event, wasting so much money and resources and for what? Nothing. That’s what. All you do is struggle into some crazy glitzy dress, walk around balancing on some blasted skyscraper stilts, cake your face into countless chemicals and spend the entire night pretending to take an interest in some meaningless conversation with the dullest people on the planet. Of course there is one good thing to the whole affair-the food. Sam’s never gone of course, but once her only other friend-Hanna- snuck her out some chocolate gateau cake which was possibly the most divine thing, Sam’s ever tasted in her life. So if Sam ever-god forbid- decided to actually go, then the only thing she’s sure she’d enjoy would be the 5 star dinner.

“No, I didn’t. I said I’d think about it,” defends Sam indignantly.

“Oh, come on, Sammie! Please?! You know the ‘plus-one’ isn’t compulsory right?”

Anger rushes to Sam as she pouts and spits, “yes! And I don’t care about going alone. I just don’t want to go!”

“...Yeah, sure,” sarcastically drawls Carmen, causing Sam to intake sharply in fury.

“What? You think I couldn’t get someone to go with me?!”

“No, no...I mean, look...I have a cousin coming into town next week, maybe you two could come together?” suggest Carmen, with innocent eyes which is far from the truth. After years of knowing Sam, Carmen knows exactly how to play that anger and pride of hers to Carmen’s own advantage.

“I don’t need you to set me up, Carmen! I am perfectly capable of finding my own plus-one!” cries Sam.

“Really?” questions Carmen.

“Yes!But it doesn’t matter because I’m not going-”

“Sure. I mean, I guess you couldn’t have asked Hanna, ‘cause she’s actually got a male date,” cuts off Carmen with a shrug.

“Urgh! Carmen, I told you, I can get a ‘male, date’ if I wanted. But there’s no point, because I’m not going!”

“Alright, alright, no need to get so defensive. If you say you can then sure I believe you,” defensively states Carmen throwing her hands up in innocence.

“Yeah well good...” mutters Sam gazing away and sulking for a moment.

Carmen waits for it, allowing the silence to pass between them, and trying to hide her smirk. Sure enough a few minutes later and she hears Sam huff in defeat.

“Fine! Fine! I’m come, but I’m coming alone, got it?” she points out in demand. Carmen just nods, unable to hide her wide grin.

“Good!” Carmen nods and with a quick squeeze of a hug, she leaves Sam standing there shaking her head in disbelief.

Sam knows she’s been played. She also knows that Carmen’s one of-if not the only- one who can actually manipulate her like that. Still, somehow it feels good to have that one person, who gets her so completely, who can handle her and deal with her. A bittersweet ache throbs at Sam’s chest when she realises her loneliness. Carmen may be able to handle her but Carmen’s not Sam’s partner. Carmen’s can’t ever be that one person Sam can completely open up to, bare her scars and have that deep emotional connection. Yet, it’s completely contradictory. Because that’s what Sam craves yet she’s completely unwilling to allow that to happen. A strong, scarred part of her doesn’t want her to have that trust with someone, it doesn’t want them to see the real her. Even Carmen’s doesn’t know the real her. She wouldn’t want to e-

No, God, Sam pathetic much? Sam cuts herself off from those trains of thoughts. Those are only allowed when she’s sat at home on a Saturday night, feeling sorry for herself. Right now, she’s got work to be doing and none of that entails being a whiny little bitch.

Marching into the interview room again, this time with new information and a clear goal, Sam turns up the heat on the grilling of her suspect.

By the end of the day, Sam groans and leans back in her supposedly stress relieving chair-yeah right, stress relieving her fat ass. She’d got nothing out of the guy. He did seem a little frazzled at the mention of Santiago, but apart from that little slip in reactions, there was nothing. She’ll have to dig deeper if she’s going to get more than a flinch out of him. Somehow, she knows that Santiago probably isn’t too forgiving of those that give him away, which is most likely why her suspect refuses to say a word-even though, she’d afforded him protection numerous times. Maybe she’s getting too soft?Nah, that can’t be it. She just needs to do more research. Find a link between the prostitute and Santiago and why she’d been killed.

Gah! All this thinking’s giving her a headache. Just as Sam’s finishing up the report and opening up the police database, a sudden knock rings at Sam’s office door.

“Come on in!” calls Sam, sparing a glance up as the door is pushed ajar. However it’s not just pushed ajar, no, it’s flung aside and a bubbly blonde flounces in. The woman closes the door behind her and cocking her hip, she folds her arms across her large chest.

“Sama-”

“Oh God, don’t start Hanna,” groans Sam leaning her head back and then rounding it back at the blonde.

“It is a Friday woman! Your shift was up 2 hours ago, so get your ass out of that chair right now!” scolds Hanna, as her sharp green eyes that are so seemingly bright due to the smoky make up around them, narrows.

“Han, I’ve got work to do,” points out Sam.

“Everyone always has work to do but it can wait until Monday-”

“No, it can’t!”

A deathly glare from Hanna has Sam inhaling and trying to get a grip on the situation, even though it’s pointless. When Hanna really wants something, it is very rare that she doesn’t get it. Some would say she’s spoilt rotten but her closest friends knows there’s only little truth in that.

“Hanna, seriously what do you want? I’m not leaving until I’ve done what I need to,” sighs Sam.

“And what’s that? Getting to the bottom of the Santiago case?” clips Hanna.

“...Yes, wait, how do you know that?” asks Sam.

“Um, hello? Secretary to the Chief, I know everything that goes down around here babe.”

“Hanna-”

“Uh! No. I don’t want to hear it Sammie. You are coming with me,” demands Hanna, causing Sam’s expression to crumple into one of confusion.

“Er..where exactly am I ‘coming with you’ then?” she questions.

Last time, Hanna had tried to take Sam to some kind of poker game where the lecherous players had thought of herself and Hanna as their ‘entertainment’. Then there was the time where Hanna had misled her into a burlesque club where she’d also somehow convinced the manager to get them on stage and dancing. Safe to say that after those memorable incidents and many more, Sam is always cautious of going out with Hanna.

“Oh relax, I just want to go clubbing,” shrugs Hanna carelessly with a roll of her eyes. Sam mentally breathes a sigh of relief. At least that’s not too bad. She’s been clubbing a few times with Hanna and it didn’t end in complete disasters, although...they do a very limited choice in clubs now, since Sam’s barred from a good number of them.

“But...But I don’t wanna,” whines Sam shoulders slumping and her full pink lips pouting out.

“I don’t care. You’re coming with me,” retorts back Hanna good-naturedly. She knows Sam and she knows that Sam works way too hard without playing just as hard. Thank God she’s got someone like her, thinks Hanna, congratulating herself on being such a good girl to the only female cop in the force.

“Nope, not going to happen,” defiantly replies Sam.

Hanna gives a quirk of her eyebrows and a devious smile, causing Sam to smile smugly back. Then quicker than Sam would have thought possible for a woman with 4 inch heels, Hanna bounds across the room and switches off Sam’s computer.

Sam’s eyes widen in horror and her body has a split second of confusion before she realises what her supposed friend has done.

“HANNA!” cries Sam in surprise more than anything.

“Come on! It’s already almost 6!” replies Hanna in impatience.

“Hanna!I-I could have lost all my work! I-”

“Oh please! Like I don’t know you press control S every 2 minutes. Besides it’ll be on auto-recovery...Now let’s go!”

Sam just sighs and gives her friend one last disapproving look before neatly organising her files away.

Hanna couldn’t care less about Sam’s disapproval; she’s long used to it. Instead Hanna’s more excited about the fact her and Sam are about to go out. She’s got extra special plans for them this evening and she knows that with Sam it’s all going to be even better. It may not seem like it to many people, but Hanna’s one of the privileged to know that when Sam really loses her inhibitions, she’s one of the most fun people to be around. That however, usually entails ‘bullying’ her to down a few vodka shots and such.

“What if I’d had plans this evening?” mutters Sam as she packs away.

“With who? Your invisible boyfriend?” snorts Hanna causing Sam’s cheeks to tinge pink and a rush of anger paired with embarrassment to flow through her.

“Shut-up! There’s nothing wrong with being single,” she defensively cries and then as an afterthought adds, “you’re single too.”

“Yeah but babe, I don’t sit on the couch every night eating take-away and watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother or whatever else it is you watch,” comments Hanna as Sam pulls out her backpack and slings it over one shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with doing that! It’s a life-style choice,” murmurs Sam as she switches off her office lights and walks out of the door with Hanna.

“Oh you mean like not having sex in years is a life-style ‘choice’?” cheekily remarks Hanna causing Sam to roll her eyes but still grin wide at the teasing comment.

“So when should I expect Hurricane Hanna over then?” asks Sam as they step out onto the sidewalk outside the police station.

“8. We’ll have some pre-drinks first,” shrugs Hanna glad Sam’s up for the night.

“Fine,” Sam sighs, feeling her cosy night plans evaporating away.

As Sam and Hanna part, Sam strolls to the bus stop, awaiting her ride home.

It seems only minutes since their parting when Sam hears the knocking at her door.

Tugging on her bathrobe, Sam exits her bathroom and heads for the door. She’d expected the Hanna’s arrival early thus why she’d got in the bath as soon as she’d got home. But she hadn’t expected her 1 and a half hours early.

Sam opens the door to allow Hanna in before bolting it shut again.

“I thought we agreed 8?” pointlessly questions Sam.

“Yes well, I remembered it’s you and how if I actually turned up at 8, you’d be wearing jeans, a t-shirt with your hair in a tight bun; so I decided to come earlier. No need to thank me,” explains Hanna kicking off her heels and padding into the kitchen to find the bottle opener for the wine. Sam shrugs and follows, knowing it’s all true. She’s never been confident in dresses and her hairs way too wild be left alone.

“But Hanna, please, don’t force me into one of those skin-tight dresses, I hate them,” whines Sam, gazing enviously at Hanna’s own beautiful physique wrapped in a figure-hugging hot pink dress. Also, her hair is curled perfectly and make-up done immaculately. Sam feels a stab of pain at her chest when she’s momentarily reminded of her step-sister. Jesse had always been...perfect. Probably still is, guesses Sam. Shaking away those unhappy memories Sam suddenly realises Hanna has sashayed herself into Sam’s bedroom.

Sam quickly rushes to the bedroom, praying Hanna hasn’t already tipped her closet upside down already.

“Hanna! Hanna, look I don’t-”

“How about this?” she asks tugging forth a crimson red chiffon dress, Sam doesn’t even remember buying.

“Han-”

“Nah, it’s too nice and...not slutty enough. Let’s see...”

“Hold on, did you just say ‘slutty’?!” cries Sam in panic. She does not have the figure to be pulling off slutty. She’ll look like an elephant in a size zero dress.

“Yes, yes, now what happened to that gorgeous gold dress we bought that other time?” wonders Hanna completely in her zone.

Sam sighs and sits on the bed, knowing it is useless trying to argue against Hanna when she gets into her weird ‘dress putting together’ phase.

“Here it is! Oh my God, it’s even more beautiful than I remember! Why do you never wear this?!” squeals Hanna, her fingers caressing the shimmering dress.

Sam groans out loud, when she realises what dress Hanna has just picked. Oh God, no! The thing is undeniably beautiful but just...not on her.

“Get it on, Sam,” demands Hanna flinging the slinky attire onto the bed next to Sam. As Sam nervously gazes at the dress, Hanna has already set to work finding shoes to go with it.

“Hanna, please, I can’t wear this. I look awful in it, maybe you should have it,” suggests Sam. Hanna’s head whips around and a concerned, worried expression crosses her face.

“Sam, honey, trust me, you look good in it, okay? Pretty please, get it on...for me?” begs Hanna, her green eyes going wide.

“...Ugh...fine,” groans Sam giving in and going to get some appropriate underwear. She takes her clothes into the bathroom and starts to change, not liking the way the slinky gold material flows over her figure, nipping in at her waist and clinging to her large ass.

The cut is low with two thin strips cutting across her shoulders and holding the whole thing up. It then shimmers down to stop just an inch below her ass. The hundreds of fringes on the dress are a glittery gold and sashay every time she moves. Sighing, Sam gazes wishfully in the mirror hoping she looks a little less...pear shaped in the mirror, however the cruel reflection tells her otherwise.

“Hanna, give me another dress. I don’t want to wear this one,” orders Sam hand on hip and leant against the doorway.

“Hu- Oh my God. Oh my God, seriously Sammie, you look good. You are not changing, especially not now that I’ve got all the other stuff sorted. Now, sit down and let me do your hair and make-up,” commands Hanna, pulling out the chair at Sam’s vanity desk.

Rolling her eyes Sam trudges forward and slumps into the chair, ready for the primping to begin.

Hanna quickly pries off the thick hair tie holding Sam’s hair back in her usual neat bun and allows the wild mass to spring free. Sam groans as she witnesses the large almost frizzy, curly volume of her hair puff free from its restraint.

“Seriously Sam, sometimes I wonder what I’m going to do with you. I mean, look at this hair! You have no idea how many women would kill to have hair this thick and gorgeous!” exasperates Hanna carefully brushing it out.

“I look ridiculous,” mutters Sam in retort, as her eyes glance up to Hanna’s own silky platinum, tamed curls. With hair like hers, Sam feels like she looks like she’s just been dragged through a bush backwards.

“Shut up. You do not...Although, no one’s envious of those roots starting to show,” replies Hanna, referring to the brown of Sam’s hair. Her hair is highlighted with honey blonde strands and they had once started at the tip of her roots, but in time they’d obviously faded out. And Sam knows she should get them done again soon, but right now, she frankly doesn’t care and besides...it doesn’t look too bad.

“Whatever. I’ll do it when I get some time,” shrugs Sam carelessly as she feels Hanna finish brushing out her hair and move onto make-up.

Turning her around, Hanna gets to work applying the basics first- liquid foundation, powder foundation and a primer for the eyes. Next she sweeps across liquid eyeliner to elongate Sam’s already wide eyes and define it as more sultry. A light dusting of gold glittery eye-shadow finishes off Sam’s eyes and Hanna moves onto to give Sam a coat of dusty pink lipstick to highlight her plump, full lips. Last to go on is the bronzer which only causes Sam’s naturally tanned, brown Latino skin to look even more radiant.

“Done, yet?” asks Sam in a mocking bored tone just to tease Hanna, who she knows hates being rushed.

“Yes, yes, calm down. Now, put on those black heels and give me a twirl,” demands Hanna rising up and leaning over to check the mirror of her own make-up. Sam gives a short roll of her eyes but complies and slips on the pair of tall, plain suede black heels. Even with them on, she sadly notes she’s still pretty short.

“Okay, now turn,” instructs Hanna satisfied with her ‘face’ and motioning a circular motion with her finger to Sam.

Sam gives another roll of her eyes and carefully totters around in a circle. As she does a full 360, she glances at Hanna with an expression that asks if she’s happy with the transformation.

“My God, I am good,” proudly states Hanna as she then adds, “you look so hot right now. Even better than a Latino pornstar!”

“Hanna!” cries Sam in outrage.

“Oh shut up and drink up,” sings Hanna taking a swig of the wine before handing it over to Sam. Sam shakes her head with a smile on her lips and takes a large swig of the drink herself.

Adrian sighs in annoyance and glances at his watch for the 10th time.

“Cain, how much longer?” he asks his driver with impatience. Patience is not something Ade has been abundantly blessed with and unfortunately for him, a lot of people and a lot of things seem to drain that limited supply.

“Sorry Sir, the traffic’s terrible. Friday night and all. You got to be careful for those drunk youths-”

“Cain,” Ade cuts short Cain’s usual rant.

“Um, should be just a few more minutes Sir.”

“Right, thank you.”

As promised minutes later and Cain pulls up outside one of the many clubs along the street. ‘Provocative’ however is different. Not only is it one of the town’s biggest and most popular clubs but it’s also owned by one of Ade’s closest friends- Dale Holden. Not that that’s exactly why he’s here tonight.

Nodding at one of the bouncers he strolls into the heavily condensed, loud area. Heading to the side with the velvet rope, guarded by another bouncer, he’s immediately flashed through. Finding Dale isn’t a difficult task. As his job entails a lot of socialising (and because he loves it) he’s sat with a large group of people. Ade notices many of these are scantily dressed women, but integrated between them are men in suits, who he guesses are some rich sods.

“Dale,” calls Adrian.

Dale’s eyes shoot up and search around confused, until they land on Ade’s tall figure.

“Ade! Hey! She’s already here,” he says, detangling himself from the group and joining Ade against the railings.

“Where?”

Dale scans the area, searching for the mentioned woman. A beautiful red head catches his eyes and he waves her over.

Adrian scans the crimson haired woman sliding up to them. Her shoulders are slightly hunched, which just won’t do-she needs more confidence if she’s going to be working at the club. Still, it can be taught. Her figure is good-slim, nothing too special. Her eyes are definitely her highlight though. They are a beautiful moss green colour and so gorgeously large.

“Ade this is Emma Foster. Emma, this is Mr Carter,” Dale introduces before smiling reassuringly at the woman and getting back to his guests.

Emma’s eyes nervously meets with the piercing blue of her possible employers and she bits her lip.

“Miss Foster,” coolly nods Ade holding his hand out and shaking it with hers.

Suddenly someone barges against her and Ade holds out his hand to steady the woman. With a hand at her lower back he shuffles them further along the balcony to a quieter corner. Down below the club is fully alive with some upbeat song.

“Nice-Nice to meet you Mr Carter. Thank you for this, I know this is...unconventional,” she weakly smiles. Ade raises an eyebrow as a smile flickers at his lips-at least she’s a good conversationalist.

“That’s quite alright. So are you positive this is the route you’d like to take,” he asks. If she’s not sure about working at the club, then there’s no point even continuing this conversation.

“Yes, definitely,” she nods enthusiastically. He can’t help smile at her excitement, a little more confidence and training and she’ll be a great edition.

“Good. Then I suggest we schedule an interview for next week. Ring in and my secretary will get it sorted for you,” he instructs, grabbing two flutes of campaign from a tray and nodding at the girl. Good thing about being friends with the owner? Free drinks, free entrance, free stuff.

“Thank you,” shyly smiles Emma, taking a soft sip of the drink.

She glances up from her eyelashes at the man in front of her-her breath catching from the sight of him. Hands down, he’s probably the sexiest guy in the club and she’s just been hanging around with sexy as sin guys. His fitted black suit, that crisp white shirt, the silver tie all look like it’s made specifically for him. A thrill of excitement flashes through Emma as she dares to imagine the naughty experiences she’ll have with gorgeous men like him if she manages to get recruited into the BDSM Club.

As Emma’s inner fantasy is rolling, Ade’s eyes flicker across the dance floor below. Body’s are intertwined, arms wavering and voices are ringing out. Of all the body’s dancing, one in particular catches his eyes. Ade has to look again at the woman dancing her hot ass off. Her wide hips swinging and rolling, in fact her whole body seems like it’s made of liquid. The way it shimmies and sways is almost hypnotising. She’s gorgeous-Ade notes. As she spins around, he drinks in the sight of her wild blonde hair whipping around her face, her dress shimmering and glinting in the strobe lights, as it displays her body so perfectly. Ade’s eyebrows rise at the woman but confusion swarms him. He’s seen her before-he’s definitely seen her before-but where?

His answer comes when she glances up and warm brown eyes meet with surprised cobalt blue.