Undercover

UNDERCOVER

By

Terri Carnis

© copyright Oct. 2007, Terri Carnis
Cover art by Alexis DeShanks, © Oct. 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-097-9
New Concept Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places are of the authors' imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Kyla Cusack rushed to the motel mirror to check herself out, knowing she only had a few minutes before her 'john' arrived, expecting sex.

Wavy red hair framed her pale blue eyes and pouty lips, accented by sapphire-blue eye shadow and ruby-red lip-gloss. Both looked good on her skin, pale as milk, and the black silk bustier acted like a push-up bra, all but putting her breasts on full display. It was too much for her taste, but there was no point in complaining. When you worked as a sex decoy in the Vice Unit, you had to look convincing, playing whatever role you'd been assigned.

The day before, she'd gone to a fashion ball as a high-end call girl, wearing a gold lame´ cocktail dress and two-carat diamond earrings, along with a splash of French perfume that cost $200 an ounce. She'd received the VIP treatment at Seattle's Alexis Hotel then been propositioned for sex in the famous Space Needle, where she'd busted her date … all of which was classier than her current grit-and-grime assignment near Denny way.

She ran her hands over the black vinyl mini skirt. Shifting her weight, she regretted wearing the fuck-me mules, with three-inch stiletto heels. True, they pushed her height to five foot eight-inches. But they also killed her arches.

She glanced at her watch, then rapped on the wall shared with the next motel room. Two reassuring taps came back, which signaled that her partners, Vice Detectives Ruben Morales and Paul Schaffer were ready to protect her and help arrest her client.

Behind her, a tentative knock sounded on the door, followed by a muffled voice. "Hey, Babe. You ready?"

She glanced in the mirror, pushing up her breasts-careful not to disturb the wire concealed in her bustier to record the transaction. Then she smoothed down her skirt, making certain that her badge-hooked over the front of her panties-didn't show. Quickly, she stepped to the door and peered through the keyhole, making sure her trick was alone.

He stood there, a big guy wearing a pin-stripe suit, with perspiration dotting his forehead. He hadn't bothered to take off his gold wedding ring, which reflected the hallway lights. She figured him for a traveling businessman, maybe in town for a convention.

For reassurance, she touched her necklace, with its array of dangling metal rectangles. The longest rectangle held a small, carefully disguised knife blade.

"C'mon, Baby," he said, giving the door a thump. "I don't like waiting."

Usually, she carried a snub-nosed pistol, but its bulge would have shown in tonight's 'uniform', so she made do with the mini-knife and backup from her partners.

Quickly, she manufactured a smile and opened the door, shifting to her sultry voice. "I'm ready," she said, "if you are."

He hesitated at the doorway, his gaze darting about the room. Did he think a pimp was inside, ready to rob him? That happened a lot, so she understood his caution. Or had he made her as a cop?

She gave her breasts a slow squeeze, working them higher in her bustier and then gestured at the bed. "Ready to fuck?"

He bit his lip, and for a moment, she thought his conscience as a married man might win out. Then, towering over her, he focused on her cleavage, where the bustier showed part of her nipples. But he didn't say anything … didn't respond to her offer.

She stifled a sigh of fatigue. Her feet were killing her, and he had to commit, or there'd be no arrest.

"Come on," she said, giving her hips a little twitch. "If you're willing to pay, I'll give you a ride you won't forget."

"Oh yeah," he said, stepping forward, making her retreat to the bed. "A hundred bucks for a half-and-half."

She forced a smile at his use of street lingo, using 'half-and-half' to refer to oral sex and intercourse in the missionary position. "Fine," she said, "a blow job and a straight lay."

He grinned. "How about warming me up, by flashing a little pussy?"

"My pleasure." She lifted her skirt and flashed her badge.

"You're under arrest," she shouted, a cue to her partners, who burst through the door and grabbed the guy's arms.

Instead of fighting like some of them did, this john folded. Blinking, he stammered, "There m-must be some m-mistake."

"Yeah," she said as she cuffed him. "There was a mistake, all right. Bad judgment on your part."