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Soon, Peter snored softly beside her. She shoved the guilt away as she waited to make sure he was really asleep. She had to be able to do her job whether or not she was his submissive. Maintaining that freedom was important.

Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed to the guest bedroom where she still had her bag of clothes. Once she was dressed, she grabbed Peter’s keys from the entry wall and slipped out the door. Out in front of his building, she waited for the ride-share she had called. It was two minutes away. When she was in the backseat, she sent a text to Olivia.

Do you have what I need?

Sure do, hon. I’ll have it waiting for you behind the bar.

True to her word, Olivia had a canvas bag filled with Carrie’s requested supplies waiting for her.

“You can come to the back and I’ll help you get ready,” her friend said.

Carrie was grateful for her friend’s help. In her free time, Olivia was an expert cosplayer and could transform herself, or anyone for that matter, into someone or something else. Tonight, Carrie just needed to be unrecognizable to the staff and patrons of the Doll House.

As Olivia was putting her wig in place, she asked, “does your new Dom know what you’re up to?”

Carrie refused to look her in the eye. “It’s a work thing Liv. You know I don’t let a Dom control what I do and don’t do for work.”

Olivia squealed. “So, you don’t deny that he’s your Dom?” This time Carrie looked at her friend in the mirror and gave her a shy smile.

“No. I don’t deny it. We’re still figuring each other out, though, so don’t get all weird and mushy on me.”

Olivia squealed again and went back to Carrie’s hair and makeup.

Twenty minutes later, Carrie was dressed and made up, so she barely recognized herself. She gave her friend a hug and called another car to take her to the Doll House.

At the door, she paid her cover and winked at the bouncer. It was the same one who had been on duty the last time she was here, but he didn’t recognize her, and he didn’t card her either, much to her relief. She didn’t have a false ID to conceal her real name.

The club was packed. She scanned the crowd looking for Lola, or maybe even Upwood. Lola was behind the bar, but the Upwood was nowhere in sight. Claiming a barstool, she waved Lola over and ordered a drink, making sure not to order her usual. When she came back, Carrie wiggled her finger and asked her to come closer. Lola leaned over the bar. “What’s up babe?”

She spoke in a slightly higher pitch than normal. “I have a weird question. You know anybody named Rip? I think he mighta knocked my little sister up and rumor is he hangs out here.”

Lola frowned. “Can’t say it rings any bells. We have a bouncer named Ripley, but he’s not the type to knock someone up.”

Ripley. It could fit. Why would a bouncer at a strip club know how to contact her, and how would he know Peter? Carrie wondered if she had ever seen this Ripley character before.

Carrie made a show of eying Lola up and down. “You look kind of familiar. You related to Sarah Neiland by chance?”

Lola’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my mother. How do you know her?” So, her suspicions about this being Tom’s daughter or stepdaughter were correct. Sarah Neiland was Tom’s ex-wife.

Carrie laughed. “She was my high school English teacher. Thanks for the drink.” She prayed she’d remembered correctly what subject Sarah Neiland used to teach. Lola didn’t react, so she must have.

After laying some cash down, Carrie wandered through the club, stopping near the stage to watch the girls dance. There were three on stage and for a moment Carrie felt a twinge of grief over Savannah. She spent the next hour chatting up any of the strippers that would talk to her. She asked if they knew a bouncer named Ripley, what he was like and whether they enjoyed working here. Most were friendly, but at the mention of Ripley’s name a few of them shied away.

“Oh, he works for Mr. Carranza. I don’t like talking about him. It’s dangerous,” one girl had said, before heading back to the stage. She asked the next girl who Mr. Carranza was. That was the wrong question to ask because the stripper clammed up immediately and went to talk to a bouncer. Carrie took that as her cue to slip out the side entrance and hail a cab.

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?” Carrie jumped and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming at the voice in her ear and thick hand gripping her arm.

“Gage, what are you doing here? How did you recognize me?”

He pulled her across the street to his truck and opened the door. “In. Now.” The door slammed when she was in and he stalked to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.

“Start talking, woman.”

“You first. I thought you were only staking out Peter’s place while he’s not home.”

Gage laughed. “I was in Olivia’s bar when you came in. At the point that you came out of her back room in a disguise, I suspected you were up to something shady, so I called Peter and he had me follow you. He’s not happy, by the way.”

“Fuck. I was supposed to be back at his place before he even knew I was gone. This was important.”

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