Once he seemed satisfied, Mr. Parker ran his hands over me from my neck to my ankles, feeling me up as he went. He kept the movement relatively clinical, but that didn’t stop my dick from hardening.
The next thing I knew, my hands were being cuffed behind my back.
“What the fuck?” I challenged. “Are you arresting me?”
He spun me around and pushed my back against the wall.
“Shut up and don’t move,” he told me, then glanced at Addison. “And what about you, doll? Where’s your ID?”
“I…uh…” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s in my purse.”
“And where’s your purse?”
“I left it at home.” Her tone reflected her silent duh.
“Don’t look at me,” Mr. Parker ordered, then forced her head away from him and held her hands against the wall. He was getting more forceful as the minutes ticked by.
When he proceeded to frisk her right there in the hallway, I thought Addison would come. He took his time, touching her intimately. A moan escaped her, but then she immediately caught herself.
“Hey! You have no right to touch me!” She tried to shake him off, but Mr. Parker only got more aggressive, grabbing her arms and pulling them behind her back. He produced another set of handcuffs and quickly secured her.
“What are you doing, you asshole?” she hissed. “You have no right to arrest me.”
“You know it’s illegal to solicit sex, don’t you, little girl?”
“I wasn’t soliciting anything,” she countered. “I was going on a date.”
“Right. We can talk about this down at the station.”
When he reached for her arm, Addison jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
She spun around and started to walk, but he grabbed her arm again and led her to his apartment door. “This way, sweetheart.”
“Right.” She grinned.
Once inside, Mr. Parker locked the door, then nudged us toward the playroom. I noticed the door was open and the lights were on. He was certainly prepared.
And now that the easy part was out of the way, I was ready to see how this all played out.
Forty-Five
ADDISON
WHEN MR. SNOWDEN TOLD ME I was going to play an escort, I hadn’t known what to expect. Part of me thought they would set up a scene where I would be seduced by two men.
Being arrested hadn’t even crossed my mind, but it certainly made sense.
And Mr. Parker was playing his role rather well. The agitated cop was a nice touch.
“This way,” he ordered, pushing me toward his playroom.
I stepped inside and noticed that curtains had been pulled around the room and the only thing visible was the jail cell and the desk that sat in front of it. There was one desk chair tucked neatly underneath, while a single metal chair stood at the side, set up just like I’d seen on television.
Rather than move to the desk, though, Mr. Parker forced us both into the cell, then proceeded to remove our cuffs before closing the door. “You can rot in there for a little while.”
I massaged my wrists for effect. “Hey!” I shouted. “Don’t I get a phone call?”
“In due time,” he snorted. “Right now, you just sit your pretty little ass down and do what you do best.”
“And what’s that?”
He turned and sneered at me. “Look pretty.” His eyes cut to Mr. Snowden. “Or maybe she’s known for her blow jobs.”
I huffed, pretending to be offended by the rude comment.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mr. Snowden countered. “This is our first date.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Maybe the judge will believe you.”
Mr. Snowden sighed his frustration, then took a seat on the single wooden bench that ran along the back of the cell.
I started to pace and I was doing a good job of it until Mr. Snowden reached up and pulled me down.
“Sit,” he ordered.
“I don’t want to sit,” I argued, keeping my voice low, as though I didn’t want Mr. Parker to hear. “How in the world could you let us get arrested?”
“Well, if you’d been wearing more clothes,” he snapped, “then maybe you wouldn’t have drawn attention to us.”
“Me? You’re blaming me for this?” I scrambled to come up with a reasonable argument. “If I recall correctly, your email gave explicit instruction for me to wear sexy underwear.”
He barked a laugh. “And I meant under your clothes.”
“Oh.” I tried not to smile because that was actually a good comeback.
I glanced over, noticing that Mr. Parker was sitting at the desk, a laptop in front of him. I couldn’t see what was on the screen, but it made me smile to think he might be watching a movie or something. Anything to pass the time while we “rotted” here in this jail cell.
A solid half hour passed and I realized how seriously Mr. Parker took his role playing. I hadn’t expected to be mentally worn down by being forced to sit on a hard, wooden bench for an extended amount of time.
