Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven

April

Frankie stayed stopped at the traffic light long after it had turned green. A blaring horn behind him brought him out of his stupor and he continued down the rain-drenched road. He’d just dropped Accardi’s woman off at the hospital. She’d been kidnapped by a bunch of thugs, beaten, tied to a chair for three days. She was strong though. She’d held herself together long enough for Accardi and them to find her. The only thing he couldn’t get out of his head though was not the fear in her eyes but the fear in his boss’ eyes when she’d pulled away from him.

These last few days he’d seen a side of Accardi he’d never witnessed before. The panic, the aggravation, the fear all centered around one person. One woman. A woman who had run away from him. A woman who was merely an accountant and yet had taken such a hold of his heart that it shattered when she’d pulled away from him as if she hadn’t recognized him.

The entire encounter made him think of his new obsession: the new nurse at the club, Lilah. If Leo’s distress signal hadn’t interrupted him, he would have kissed her… in the club… surrounded by hundreds of people. He couldn’t get the color of her eyes out of his head: honey, but a dark honey that you could only really see the amber color when sunlight hit the glass at just the right angle. He’d spent far too long in the grocery store trying to find that color only to end up frustrated and empty-handed. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight. He couldn’t let himself get sucked into this girl. Look at what was happening to Accardi and Frankie was far less strong-willed. If he let himself go down that road… if he let her take a hold of him like this Genevieve girl was taking hold of Accardi…

Frankie shimmied his phone from his back pocket and called Marco.

“What?” Marco answered.

“I need to let off steam. Call the guys and let’s go to a club.”

“Fine, which one?”

“Mirrors.”

“See you in twenty.”

Frankie hung up and let his head fall back on the headrest. Mirrors would be the perfect place. He could watch some nameless person strip herself down and give his mind a different body to fantasize about all with a cloud of anonymity that always sent a fission of excitement up his spine. Mirrors was different from many clubs. A two way mirror separated performer from customer. The woman on one side of the glass could flip a switch that let the customer see her while also having the ability to light up the customer’s room so she could see them. It was perfect for his preferred… interests.

Fifteen minutes later he was walking through the front door of the Irish run club. He gave the owner, Malcolm, a distracted nod. A moment later Malcolm was walking beside him.

“Got a new girl in,” Malcolm said proudly.

“Don’t care,” Frankie answered, walking toward his normal room.

“Guys are already waiting for you,” Malcolm told him as they got to the door. “She’ll be ready in just a minute.”

The door slammed closed behind him and he nodded at the five men seated around the curved couch. There were already half-consumed drinks littering the table. Frankie slumped down into the chair beside Marco who offered him a cigarette.

“Did Malcolm tell you it’s a new girl? Just here for the night?” Juliano asked from the opposite end of the couch.

“Yep.”

“How’s Accardi’s girl?” Don asked.

“She’ll be fine.”

“What’s your fucking problem?” Marco asked, sitting forward as the light above the mirror turned green, letting them know the show was about to start.

“Got a lot on my mind,” Frankie answered. One thing. He had one thing on his mind.

The light in the room flickered on and the door cracked open. The men settled back in their seats, eagerly awaiting the entertainment. The room they sat in dimmed further as the “new girl” walked in. Frankie’s breath halted in his lungs. The woman stepped in, her first steps shy as she glanced around the lit room. For a moment her head turned toward the two-way mirror and she tucked some hair behind her ear.

“Get out,” Frankie said, his voice small yet dangerous.

“What?” Marco asked, his eyes on the woman walking toward the stripper pole.

“I said get out,” Frankie repeated, more stern this time.

“Come on, Man. We all chipped in and…”

“You have ten seconds,” Frankie continued, pulling his handgun from his waist, disengaging the safety and racking the slide before setting it in on the table in front of him without taking his eyes off the woman who was testing the pole by gripping it with one hand and dropping her head back.

“Frank… come on,” Don argued, his own eyes eating up the seductive girl in front of them.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Everyone jumped up. They hurried out of the room, knowing full well when Frankie started counting down after a threat, he meant to issue it. Juliano knew first hand. It was why he walked with a limp when it rained. Marco was the last to leave with a few grumbled curses. The door clicked closed and Frankie exhaled.

He stood up, his legs a bit shaky as the girl in front of him lengthened her torso to grip higher up on the stripper pole. She picked up her feet and let the pole spin her around. The red lingerie on her body clung to her like a second skin. He wondered why she was wearing it at all. He could see everything from her perky pink nipples to the small patch of hair just above her cunt. Her legs never looked longer as she hopped up higher and lifted one in the air making him groan.

Her feet touched the ground again and he watched as her small shoulders lifted and fell with her excited breath. Her ass looked perfectly round and plump. The muscles in her calves bunched as she stood on her toes. Her head turned and he followed her eyeline toward the velvet green chaise that gave this room its name.

Her eyes then went to the mirror and he swallowed hard as the corner of her mouth twitched into a seductive smirk. He hated the mask covering her face. Though beautiful and feminine, it hid her eyes… but not her identity. Lilah. He knew the moment she stepped out. He would recognize the pattern of freckles along her collarbone anywhere.

Frankie watched her walk toward the chaise. His heart leapt into his throat as she sat down on the velvet chair. Her hand caressed the fabric and she laid back, propped up on the chair’s arm. He took two unsteady steps back and sat on the couch as her hand skimmed down the lace of her lingerie and dipped inside the delicate waistband of her panties.

Her fingers glided over her wet heat and her body shivered. She dipped one finger inside and then another. Her fingers worked quickly within her, pumping in and out in a rough rhythm while her thumb stroked across her clit, stimulating her nerve endings. Her left hand traveled along her body, twisting her nipples through the lace lingerie until they were painfully erect. Her nails dug into her shoulder before raking down her arms.

Her breath was fast and sharp as she chased her release. Something was keeping her from getting her there, though. Her face creased in concentration and she took her lip into her mouth as her frustration seemed to grow. He wanted to touch himself, he wanted to stroke his cock to the timing of her hand but something kept him from doing so. He just needed to watch. He needed to imprint every movement, every moan, every halted breath into his memory so he could enjoy it over and over again.

Lilah lifted her hips, trying to find the angle that would make her see bright lights behind her closed eyelids. She groaned in frustration and removed her fingers from her pussy. She dragged them slowly up her body, over the delicate lace and sucked them into her mouth with a moan. His cock hardened to a painful degree, begging him to put them both out of their misery.

A moment later, her left hand grazed down the flat planes of her stomach again and through the swollen lips of her pussy. She bit the fingers of her right hand as she slid her fingers slowly inside her core. Her hips lifted off the chaise lounger and rolled. She inhaled sharply and moaned.

Heat crawled along her skin, turning her complexion to a deliciously pink hue, as her fingers glided in, out, in, out in a painfully slow measure that was a sharp contrast to how she’d begun. The fingers of her right hand caressed her breast rather than squeeze. Her thumb stroked delicately over her nipple and she moaned. She turned her head toward the two-way mirror and opened her eyes. His breathing stalled.

Her skin was red with excitement, her eyes were bright behind her mask, goosebumps covered every inch of her skin. She started to gently circle her clit as her fingers picked up their pace. Her eyes remained on the glass as though she were getting off on watching herself in the reflection. Her hips rocked against her hand and she gripped the velvet lounge with her free one. She looked up at the ceiling. She was close. She opened her lips as if to call out a name. She clapped her hand against her mouth as she came on her own fingers.

Lilah closed her eyes. Her breathing started to slow. She licked her lips and Frankie glanced at the clock. She’d somehow managed to spend ten minutes in there, nine more than he would have needed. She smiled to herself and swung her legs over the edge of the lounge as if this act in front of a stranger had broken free some restraint within her soul. She stared at the two-way mirror with a smug grin. Frankie smirked as she walked over to the mirror and squatted down. She stared at the glass as if she could discern his presence.

“Screw it,” she whispered.

Lilah leaned over to the controls and hit the one that would illuminate both rooms. The light in the viewer’s side, his side, flickered on. Frankie continued to sit in the very center of the couch, his arms stretched out on the back while he watched her intently. Her entire demeanor shifted and he knew she recognized him.

Lilah watched, frozen, as Frankie slowly stood up from the couch and walked around the table. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked toward the glass. Lilah came out of her daze with a jolt. She fell forward and grappled for the switches. The lights flickered as she fumbled for the right one. A second later Frankie was staring at his own reflection. He knew though, by the green light illuminated over his head that she was still there, she was still watching him. He could practically feel her panic through the glass.

Frankie’s shoulders moved slightly as he chuckled to himself. He leaned forward and exhaled hot breath along the mirror until a dense fog coated the glass. He lifted his right hand and started to write. Though he was on the other side of a two-way mirror, the letters he wrote appeared in the correct direction for her to read.

Hello…

The fog disappeared, forcing him to blow out another stream.

Lilah