No Holes Barred: Missing
A missing woman--a club that vanishes--missing time and memories. Exclusive, dark, and shrouded in mystery--No Holes Barred is a club like no other in the world. There, only those fortunate enough to gain membership experience sexual encounters the likes of which they have never dreamed possible.
But it’s the mystery not the pleasures of the flesh that draws Candice, and once inside, she goes down hard on Jerico in her determination to probe the perplexing puzzle in her search for satisfaction. Jerico has penetrated her deep cover, however, and is just as determined to delve the depths of her desires.
Word Count: 20,160
Genre: Futuristic/Erotica Romance
Rating: Erotica. Contains explicit sex, graphic language, and some scenes of sex with mulitple partners.
Available formats: : PDF, RTF, Epub, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc)
© Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, June 2005
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
As I sat in my car, staring at the unprepossessing building that housed the exclusive adult club ‘No Holes Barred’ I was more aware of my body than I had ever been in my life. I’d spent the past two hours trying to convince myself that the humming within me was pure adrenaline flow from the danger inherent in the job I’d taken upon myself. The edge of excitement I’d put down to the thrill of the chase.
The plain truth was, although there was a dollop of each within me, I knew it was more than that. I was sexually aroused as well, so much so that I could hardly keep my mind off of my tits or cunt and concentrate on the task at hand.
If anyone had ever asked me if I was ‘in’ to bondage or S&M I’d have told them they had to be out of their mind, but I’d discovered that tonight, when I would be going into a place such as I’d never known, impersonating a woman I’d never met, my mind simply wouldn’t allow me to lie to myself.
I might have been a little unnerved about facing the unknown, but I was far more excited by the prospect of my experience than I was afraid or reluctant.
Solving mysteries wasn’t just my bread and butter. I loved it. I was fascinated with unraveling puzzles. I relished the adrenaline pumping excitement, and even fear, so often associated with my job.
Obviously, whether I actually wanted to admit it or not, I was a glutton for punishment--prone to self-inflicted S&M, or at least indifferent to the possibility of having to experience it. Otherwise, I’d have chosen a less dangerous job.
By day, I was a cop. I moonlighted for a private investigations firm, though, because I’d been stuck behind a desk in my chosen career and it didn’t seem likely I’d be seeing daylight any time soon.
Besides that, the pay sucked and I figured if it took two paychecks to make ends meet, this was the best way to do it.
With all due modesty, I knew I was good--maybe not Sherlock Holmes, but still damned good.
It irked me that I’d been chosen for this assignment solely on my appearance.
Our client’s daughter, who’d become a member of the club only a few short weeks earlier, had visited the club the weekend before and hadn’t been seen since. The client had gone the usual route but was too frantic to find her daughter to simply wait for the police to do their job. Preliminary investigations had turned up nothing except that Julia Hutchins appeared to have vanished from the time she’d gone into the club. She’d been seen entering, but no one had seen her come out and she hadn’t been spotted since.
My boss had decided I was a dead ringer for the missing woman and the quickest way to discover if any of the club members had had anything to do with her disappearance was to pose as the missing woman. I was willing enough, but I couldn’t see it myself. I was the same general height, weight and build. Otherwise, I didn’t look much like the woman at all. I didn’t sound like her either, for that matter.
I didn’t argue, though. I would be wearing her clothes. It was dark inside the club. Like the boss, I figured I was close enough to smoke the bad guy out if he was inside. Mostly, I was here to find out if anyone would react violently to the missing woman’s sudden reappearance, but in the back of everyone’s mind, we were all hoping that the charade would break the case wide open, not just give us a lead to pursue.
It could be dangerous, and that was one of the reasons I’d agreed to do it. It wasn’t that I had a death wish or anything. I knew, though, that the boss would just find someone else and I figured I was probably more qualified to handle a dangerous situation than most anyone he could come up with.
If I could just get my mind off of sex, sex, sex.
I hadn’t been laid in a year, though, and even that had been pretty much a washout as far as I was concerned.
My imagination was running riot, visions of sweating, writhing bodies flickering through my mind’s eye, the pungent, musky smell of sex in my nostrils and it was making me hot and wet and jittery in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety about the gig.
I shifted uncomfortably. My radio squawked abruptly, causing me to jump as if I’d been caught playing with myself.