Page 3 of The Dragon 1
And other times—it wore the face of love just before it devoured you.
Many nights that moment replayed in my mind. Each time, I wasn’t sure if I remembered the woman’s face correctly anymore.
But I remembered the scent—black amber and plum; I remembered how it clung to the air like prophecy.
Decadent and dark.
Oh, so impossible to forget.
Chapter one
The Erotic Soul Circus
Nyomi
Sex pulsed through the Japanese brothel. It was this intense heat, vibrating through my bones and causing my nipples to stiffen under my shirt.
Don’t forget the book, Nyomi. This is work, nothing more.
In my short life, I’d learned that pleasure came in all sizes.
In Tokyo, they’d discovered the same notion and sold lust in rich boxes for all to drool over and buy.
I can't believe I’m actually here!
Standing in the hallway, I ran my fingers along the warm, smooth tiles decorating the walls.
Piano music mingled with women giggling.
Cigar smoke intertwined with the sensual scents of lit candles outlining the bar.
Art hung on the walls, portraying nude, feminine bodies in the most delicious positions.
Work, not play, remember. Thank God I brought Zo. He’ll keep me in line.
My buddy Zo stood on my right with his mouth agape and his attention darting from left to right. We had to be the oddest pair in there—a short Black woman in her mid-thirties with lazy brown curls hanging past her shoulders and a 6'4 white guy with a blond fashion mohawk crowning his head.
Our clothes didn’t help either. I wore army boots, raggedy jeans, and Salvador Dali’s painting “The Great Masturbator” plastered on my black t-shirt.
Meanwhile, a plaid suit was snugly wrapped around Zo’s slim body.
Zo didn't have hot looks like some men, he'd spent his life working with what he had. No one could deny that the man had style.
Let’s hope Zo can help me behave.
When we first entered the brothel,Castle in the Sky, this odd yearning had come over me, as if the owner sprayed sex in the air and hoped to have us all instantly horny.
My heart sped up.
Excitement skittered across my skin, between my legs and warmth rose in my core.
I held the mini tape recorder up to my mouth and pressed the record button. “March tenth. I’m inCastle in the Sky, the third brothel that I’ve visited. However, unlike the others this one is elegant and—”
“Soapland,” Zo whispered dramatically, like he was delivering classified intel.
I blinked at him. “Come again?”
He pointed to a polished plaque beside the door. “It’s not technically a brothel. It’s a soapland. Big cultural difference.”
