“Yes. It will make my man happy.” She should think of another line of work.
The mama-san snatched the money back before leading them to a hallway that had several doors. She was chubby, but she moved fluidly along the hallway, the white coat giving her a business-like appearance.
The parlor wasn’t what Killyama had expected. It was clean and looked professional. She was reminded of the spa days Sex Piston had treated them to whenever Stud had sold a bike.
The mama-san opened a door at the end of the hallway, and Killyama looked around, seeing a massage table with a towel folded at the end. It was clean and had a fresh odor.
They all stepped inside, closing the door behind them.
“You go in there.” The mama-san motioned to a black curtain. “And stay until I come and get you when he leaves.” The mama-san pointed at Hammer. “He comes with me.”
Killyama and Hammer shook their heads. “That’s not the deal. He wants to watch, too—”
“The lesson for you, not him. If Kane sees you, my business over.” She snapped her fingers in front of their faces. “Your choice. You stay. He goes.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” Hammer tried to take her arm, but Killyama shook him off.
“I’ll be fine. Go with her. Pretty boy won’t even know I’m here. You know I can handle myself. If I can beat your ass, Kane won’t give me trouble if something goes wrong.”
“Kane good customer. You cause trouble, you deal with me.”
“No trouble, only happiness,” Killyama assured the woman.
She hid behind the curtain as Hammer reluctantly left with the mama-san. Jonas was going to kick her ass for this. Hammer was protective of her, but Jonas didn’t share the same confidence in her abilities. The two men had always been by her side for as long as she could remember, unless they were deployed, usually making sure a girlfriend was left to keep watch of her.
Killyama stayed to the side of the curtain, not sure if Kane would be able to see her outline through the thin material.
Stiffening, she heard someone enter the room. A charming voice was greeting the mama-san. When their voices began arguing over money because Kane wanted to use a coupon, Killyama became so frustrated she wanted to shout she would pay for the fucking hand job. Thankfully, the mama-san was satisfied with the money and left the room.
The sound of Kane undressing had her waiting tensely, worried he would look behind the curtain. When the room then went quiet, Killyama bravely peeked through a gap in the material, seeing Kane lying on his back, the white towel tenting his hard-on.
Killyama nearly screamed as the minutes ticked by before the door opened again, and a tiny Asian woman’s high heels tapped on the floor. She was wearing a tiny black dress that was so short Killyama could see she wasn’t wearing anything underneath when she bent over to light the candles. Then she dimmed the overhead lights.
Killyama watched as the petite woman oiled her hands. Then she looked toward Kane’s clothes. They were sitting on a table a foot from her.
Dammit, she had expected him to be on his back. Kane would be able to easily see her if she moved from her hiding spot. That meant she was forced to watch the woman slide her oiled hands over Kane’s body before giving him a blowjob that put the one Killyama had given Train to shame. She was furious at herself for letting the erotically charged atmosphere excite her.
There were no emotions between the two adults, other than lust from Kane. The woman looked positively bored. At least, she did until Kane grabbed the fragile wrist stroking his cock.
“No touch,” the small woman protested to no avail.
Kane slid himself out from her hands, using the grip he had on her wrist to twist her arm behind her back as he hopped off the table, forcing her to lean her upper body over the table.
“No,” the woman objected, whimpering in fear.
Killyama’s grip tightened on the curtain, unable to decide if this was part of the services the parlor offered.
The frightened cries escalated when Kane pulled the woman’s dress to her waist, about to sink his dick into the struggling masseuse.
Dammit, Killyama couldn’t watch the woman get raped.
When she started gasping at the forced weight of his hand that circled her throat, Killyama darted out from behind the curtain, pushing Kane off the crying woman.
“Who the hell are you?” Kane yelled as she helped the woman rise. “MAMA-SAN!”
Killyama held the woman as the mama-san ran into the room, Hammer rushing in behind her, restraining Kane. She couldn’t catch many of the words the mama-san spat at the terrified worker.
When she would have backhanded her, Killyama caught her hand.
“What’s going on in here?”
Kane’s yells had doors opening and closing as customers from other rooms fled.
“Is this a shake down? If you want my money, take it,” some stupide asshole asked.