Page 157 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

Before she can react, I pull out the handkerchief in my back pocket and press it to her face.

Her eyes go wide with shock and then flutter hopelessly. She struggles—for an old woman, she’s got plenty of fight left in her—but it’s a useless fight. As her eyelids finally drift closed, the rest of her sinks into limp unconsciousness. I ease her to a seated position on the floor, back against the wall.

When I turn and stand, I notice Elyssa frozen to her place in horror. “What are we doing?” Elyssa murmurs. “Is she… is she…?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“How’d you do that?”

I hold up the handkerchief in my hand. “Chloroform.”

She looks slightly relieved. “So she’ll be okay?”

“Of course. She’ll wake up in an hour or so,” I tell her. “Now undress her. We may not have much time.”

I move immediately to the locked storage closet. Snapping off the handle with the butt of my gun, the door swings open. Inside, I find exactly what I’m looking for—an “Out of Order” sign. Moving to the main restroom entrance, I hang it up on the door and then lock the handle, just to be safe.

I turn around to see Elyssa struggling to turn the woman on her back so she can access the zipper. She looks like she is trying to do it without touching the woman at all.

I go hunch down beside her. “Move,” I bark gruffly. I make quick work of it, rolling the woman onto her belly, then grabbing hold of the zip and tugging it down.

She’s wearing two layers of spanks over a bright set of red lace lingerie. Not bad for an old broad. Her husband doesn’t know what he’s missing. The old son of a bitch is so oblivious, it’ll take him hours to realize his old ball and chain is MIA.

With my help, Elyssa manages to pull off the dress. But I can still feel the guilt wafting off her.

“You’re the one who asked for this,” I point out, though she hasn’t said a word.

I expect her to fire back at me but she accepts the guilt and drops her head. “I know.”

I feel the bitter tang of my own guilt on my tongue. This is my world and I know it; I understand it, I’ve accepted it. But for Elyssa, this is all shocking and violent.

“She’ll be okay,” I reassure her again.

She nods but her eyes are pasted on the woman’s face. She shakes it off—or tries to, at least. Once we’re got the dress off her, I carry the woman into one of the stalls and set her down on the closed toilet seat. With her forehead resting against the stall, she looks like she’s sleeping.

“You’ll have more fun in here than you would have out there,” I murmur to her.

Then I shut the door and leave her behind me.

I enter back into the area in front of the sinks to find Elyssa pulling off her t-shirt. Her back is to me so she doesn’t see me enter. I have a sliver of time to look at her.

She’s wearing a plain white bra. It’s the kind of bra you wear when you think no one’s going to be seeing you in it. And yet, she still manages to look sexy. Though her body is pale and skinny, she’s still got subtle cords of muscle in her arms.

She looks in the mirror and her eyes meet mine. She blushes at once and tries to cover herself up.

“Keep going,” I order. “We don’t have time for you to get embarrassed.”

She sets her t-shirt aside and starts unbuttoning her jeans. I don’t make any secret of the fact that I’m watching her closely. My dick springs to life the moment she pulls the jeans down over her taut ass.

She pirouettes slowly. I can practically see her heart beating from here.

“You can’t wear a bra with this dress,” I tell her.

She glances towards the dress and then back to me. “I don’t think—”

“I’ve seen you naked before.”

“That was different.”

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