Into Her Fire
Fantasy Heights, Book 6
“Wow. I think I like restricted duty.”
Amanda nudged Eric Hernandez with her elbow. The pair of them stood just inside the front door of The Isle of Wight , Fantasy Heights’s most exclusive venue. Its oval-shaped dining area glowed with soft golden light shed by vast chandeliers and gilt wall sconces. Butter-yellow walls, white trim and crisp white table linen announced this space belonged to the innermost circles of the chosen few.
Right now, the room stood empty. Amanda and Eric were expected in one of the posh, private alcoves beyond the dining room.
Eric, six-foot-two of staid, observant muscle, glanced down at her. He was older. Probably forty-five, and quickly becoming one of Amanda’s favorite people. He’d been a constant presence these last two days since Gail Warnous had decided to play witch doctor. Eric’s boss, the brand new chief of security Jerod Hughes, had ordered him to make sure she spoke to no one about ‘The Thomas Disclosure,’ as she and Eric called it.
She found the resulting quarantine frustrating, but also a relief. Eric took the rules seriously. She liked that, and needed his safe, gloriously normal company to offset the week ahead. Bookings with Josh and Thomas loomed large and complicated, and of course her impending appointment with the mysterious Accord didn’t inspire confidence. She had no idea who or what the Accord might be, only that they had a say in her employment contract.
“We’ve got less than two minutes,” Eric said. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
Amanda reassured him. Yes, her scalp still hurt where she’d lost a chunk of hair to Gail Warnous, and yes, she was still leery of restraints and creepy, ‘no white hats’ whispering fantasy crashers, but this booking held nothing to fear. All she had to do was play prop in a demonstration for a familiar client and another performer she couldn’t wait to meet. Nicole, Derek’s regular girl, had finally returned from a short leave of absence, and none too soon. Amanda couldn’t handle another bout of Derek. Neither of them could keep the chemistry in check. Even the faintest memory of the way Derek had tongued and then fucked her that day in the interrogation room made her pussy clench with sensual greed.
“But what about… later?” Eric asked.
This time, Amanda smiled. ‘Later’ meant a booking with her mystery client. Eric wouldn’t be allowed on or near the set.
“Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”
Amanda ignored another dubious grumble. Her mystery client’s great escape last time had not been forgotten, but neither had anything else he’d done, like telling her to run Fiona’s Internet search, then confess it to Thomas. Plus he’d warned her to stay away from Gail, and Marla by association. In hindsight, it seemed as if her mystery client knew what he was talking about, and yet she was moments away from seeing Lily Briggs, the third person on his caution list.
She nudged Eric a second time. “Come on. I appreciate the concern, but all this worrying won’t get you into the observation booth any sooner.”
Eric headed out a side door where a service corridor would lead him around to the booth. Amanda cut through the empty dining area, feeling like a scullery maid. She wore only a baby-blue silk robe and coral-colored boy panties. Her surroundings called for gowns and jewels.
Multiple archways lined the Isle’s back wall. She looked for the one marked with a seven and veered that direction. Beyond the arch, in a shadowed foyer, she came upon a single locked door. She took a keycard from her robe pocket and let herself into a room larger than she’d expected with dark red brocade wallpaper and flattering rose-colored light from shaded lamps.
Hollywood brothel special, she thought. Canopied bed, enormous gilded fainting couch. Once she got past the garish first impression, she noticed the cushioned bench lining the entire wall to
Fantasy Heights, Book 6
“Wow. I think I like restricted duty.”
Amanda nudged Eric Hernandez with her elbow. The pair of them stood just inside the front door of The Isle of Wight , Fantasy Heights’s most exclusive venue. Its oval-shaped dining area glowed with soft golden light shed by vast chandeliers and gilt wall sconces. Butter-yellow walls, white trim and crisp white table linen announced this space belonged to the innermost circles of the chosen few.
Right now, the room stood empty. Amanda and Eric were expected in one of the posh, private alcoves beyond the dining room.
Eric, six-foot-two of staid, observant muscle, glanced down at her. He was older. Probably forty-five, and quickly becoming one of Amanda’s favorite people. He’d been a constant presence these last two days since Gail Warnous had decided to play witch doctor. Eric’s boss, the brand new chief of security Jerod Hughes, had ordered him to make sure she spoke to no one about ‘The Thomas Disclosure,’ as she and Eric called it.
She found the resulting quarantine frustrating, but also a relief. Eric took the rules seriously. She liked that, and needed his safe, gloriously normal company to offset the week ahead. Bookings with Josh and Thomas loomed large and complicated, and of course her impending appointment with the mysterious Accord didn’t inspire confidence. She had no idea who or what the Accord might be, only that they had a say in her employment contract.
“We’ve got less than two minutes,” Eric said. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
Amanda reassured him. Yes, her scalp still hurt where she’d lost a chunk of hair to Gail Warnous, and yes, she was still leery of restraints and creepy, ‘no white hats’ whispering fantasy crashers, but this booking held nothing to fear. All she had to do was play prop in a demonstration for a familiar client and another performer she couldn’t wait to meet. Nicole, Derek’s regular girl, had finally returned from a short leave of absence, and none too soon. Amanda couldn’t handle another bout of Derek. Neither of them could keep the chemistry in check. Even the faintest memory of the way Derek had tongued and then fucked her that day in the interrogation room made her pussy clench with sensual greed.
“But what about… later?” Eric asked.
This time, Amanda smiled. ‘Later’ meant a booking with her mystery client. Eric wouldn’t be allowed on or near the set.
“Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”
Amanda ignored another dubious grumble. Her mystery client’s great escape last time had not been forgotten, but neither had anything else he’d done, like telling her to run Fiona’s Internet search, then confess it to Thomas. Plus he’d warned her to stay away from Gail, and Marla by association. In hindsight, it seemed as if her mystery client knew what he was talking about, and yet she was moments away from seeing Lily Briggs, the third person on his caution list.
She nudged Eric a second time. “Come on. I appreciate the concern, but all this worrying won’t get you into the observation booth any sooner.”
Eric headed out a side door where a service corridor would lead him around to the booth. Amanda cut through the empty dining area, feeling like a scullery maid. She wore only a baby-blue silk robe and coral-colored boy panties. Her surroundings called for gowns and jewels.
Multiple archways lined the Isle’s back wall. She looked for the one marked with a seven and veered that direction. Beyond the arch, in a shadowed foyer, she came upon a single locked door. She took a keycard from her robe pocket and let herself into a room larger than she’d expected with dark red brocade wallpaper and flattering rose-colored light from shaded lamps.
Hollywood brothel special, she thought. Canopied bed, enormous gilded fainting couch. Once she got past the garish first impression, she noticed the cushioned bench lining the entire wall to
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