Chapter 25

A couple of hours later, Emily—wearing her new clothes—walked into the detective squad room at the station house.

She was jittery…and it wasn't because of the coffee she'd had at Priscilla's house.

It was because she needed to have an orgasm…but she had been prohibited from having one.

Earlier, pleasuring Priscilla's breasts had led to pleasuring the rest of Priscilla, to the point where the woman had come twice on her face in the bedroom.

After the second time, while Emily was still on her knees at the foot of the bed, Priscilla had told her to get dressed, saying that she was sure Emily had appointments and other important things to do today.

By that point, Emily's pussy had been soaked and dripping, needing release. She had scoffed, feeling not a little outraged.

"Excuse me?" she had seethed, her clit pounding.

But Priscilla had sat there on the edge of the bed, cupped Emily's face in her hands while looking down at her, and stated her terms…

"I was thinking we'd have drinks later," she had said. "I know a fantastic bar! How about I pick you up just after lunch?"

Emily had glared at her.

"You want me to leave?" she had asked. "Now?"

"Aww," Priscilla had replied, a pitying look on her face. "I know you have needs, but I promise to tend to them later. In the meantime, be a good girl and save it all up for me."

On her knees, with her legs tucked under her, Emily had been able to feel her arousal wetting her ankles and calves.

"Please!" she had said through gritted teeth.

"Later," Priscilla had said firmly, keeping Emily's face cupped in her hands.

"I can take care of it whenever I want…you realize that," Emily had returned.

Priscilla had nodded.

"I do," she said. "The question is…will you?"

And that had been the end of the discussion. Emily, her core positively on fire with need, had gotten dressed, gathered her things, and left the mansion thirty minutes later, Priscilla making her driver available to take her wherever she wanted to go.

He had dropped her off at her condo. Inside, she had showered, but didn't masturbate while doing so. After the shower, she still didn't masturbate on her bed.

Naturally, she wanted to—if only to reassert agency over herself and give Priscilla Kroyn a metaphorical Fuck you. But she didn't. She knew the orgasm would feel terrific, but…

She also knew the orgasm Priscilla would give her later—after waiting all that time—would be tremendous.

And she wanted tremendous.

So, instead, she had gotten herself dressed again…in the clothes Priscilla had given her, save the panties which had been wrecked by her vagina issuing a lot of arousal, and headed to the station house.

Only Tom and Andie were in the squad room when she arrived, and Emily could tell from the look Tom was giving her that he was about to be a smartass.

"Show and tell time," he said, getting up from behind his desk and approaching her with his phone in his hand. Once standing next to her, he showed her the screen. "This is a picture of you getting into Priscilla's Kroyn's limo last night after dinner. Nice dress, by the way."

"Thank you," Emily said, staring at a spot on the far wall, waiting for more.

"You guys apparently took the long way back to her place," Tom said. "All the way up to Carlsbad, through Vista and San Marcos before heading back down to San Diego. What were you…sightseeing?"

"You could call it that," Emily said, giving him a sidelong stare.

He swiped that picture away, a new one taking its place.

"And this is a picture of you this morning," he went on, "leaving Priscilla Kroyn's house, wearing a different outfit."

"This outfit," Emily told him.

He looked at her.

"What are you, keeping clothes over there now?" he asked.

It was a fair jibe, she considered, so she didn't snap back with a cutting remark.

"I'm on the inside now," she told him.

"So, this was planned?" Tom asked her. "You knew what you were doing when you entered that house last night."

"I did," Emily replied, looking at him. "And I'll be invited back again, and again." She paused. "I think she likes my company," she continued softly, surprised when a part of her mind was telling her that was true. She did believe Priscilla liked her company…beyond their cat-and-mouse game. There was something in Priscilla's demeanor when she was with her. Also, whenever they didn't discuss the stolen painting, and chatted about other things, Priscilla seemed to genuinely enjoy that.

But she needed to put such thoughts away.

"How else can we go at her?" Emily queried. "I'm really asking, Detective. I want to get that painting back, and I need to know what else we can do."

Tom sighed and walked back to his desk. Emily took a seat at Bernie's desk. She rolled her eyes at feeling how moist things were between her legs.

"A connected woman like that?" Tom asked dryly. "Who's going to sign off on another warrant?"

"It's hidden in that house!" Emily shot back. "We get another warrant to fucking break down the walls if we have to!"

"On what evidence?" Tom exclaimed. "We managed to sell the DA on the whole every-woman-is-a-suspect idea, but what additional evidence do you have that will get us a second warrant that will allow us to tear Priscilla Kroyn's gazillion-dollar house apart?" He barked a dry laugh. "Do you have any idea who she is?"

From the top of Bernie's desk, Emily picked up the nearest and safest thing to throw—in this case a cheap Bic pen—and flung it at the wall opposite her in frustration.

"I fucking hate that you're right about that!" she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, well, you're gonna love this," Tom said. "As of an hour ago, surveillance on Priscilla Kroyn stops. That's from my boss's boss. She remains a suspect, but the department is no longer going to authorize spending the money to keep watch on her around the clock."

That was no surprise to Emily.

"Which means I'm your best friend," she said, looking at him.

"Meaning what?" he asked.

"Meaning that no matter what you think about where I spend my nights," Emily began, "I'm the only one who can get that evidence we need."

She paused, leaned back in her chair, and stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"She'll fuck up," she said. "She'll let her guard down. She'll get careless. She may even begin to trust me. And that's when we get her."

***

A little after one o'clock, Emily was back in Priscilla's Bentley limousine. Gordon had picked her up from the Italian restaurant where she'd had lunch with Leslie and Alan. The three of them had discussed alternative methods of gaining access to Priscilla's Presidio Drive mansion.

Leslie had floated the idea of "doing a Priscilla Kroyn."

When Emily pressed her on what that meant, Leslie had explained…

"Look, Priscilla hired lifelong criminals as part of her caper, didn't she?" Leslie had begun. "So…we do the same. After spending twenty years on the force, I know some real lowlifes—the kind of men who can get past all the security at the mansion, get inside, and really have a good look around. For the right price, of course."

"Tempting," Emily had replied. "But no." It was too risky. The lowlifes Leslie knew were probably unpredictable and hard to control. What's more, they might end up being the types who would do god knows what, should things not go as planned. The last thing Emily needed on her conscience was a dead housekeeper who unexpectedly walked in on Leslie's acquaintances as they were going about their job.

Using herself as a sexual lure for this case was something she could learn to live with. Signing off on actions that might get others hurt was not.

So that idea had been kiboshed, but they had come up with something else…

Alan suggested that Emily could smuggle in a camera.

"A tiny one, self-adhesive," he had said. "You look for an opportunity to stick it someplace hidden, and there you go. We can even give you several."

The drawback to that idea, Emily had considered, was that she didn't know where the painting was being stored. The mansion was…well, a mansion. It had rooms she hadn't even seen yet. What's more, she might be an investigator, but she was also a woman. She did not like the privacy concerns Alan's idea presented, although she was certain he'd had no ill intentions.

In the end, she agreed to it, deciding that she could be clever enough to place the cameras in locations where Priscilla or any of the other women in that household were unlikely to be naked.

The legality of that plan was, naturally, off-the-charts non-existent, but all that mattered was getting The Young Shepherdess back. The how didn't matter. She and Geneva Excess would contend with the eventual lawsuits later.

She instructed Alan and Leslie to have some cameras prepped for her by the end of the day. She figured there was a better than average chance she would be spending another night at Priscilla's. After meeting the woman for drinks following lunch, she would find an excuse to get away from her, hook up with Alan and Leslie, get the cameras, and make sure she was invited back to the mansion.

Now, she was on her way with Gordon to meet Priscilla, but after glancing out of the window, her brow furrowed with confusion.

She pressed the button which lowered the privacy shield between herself and the driver.

"Excuse me, but where are we going?" she asked.

Gordon was driving her to the airport. In fact, it was kind of a déjà vu situation. He was driving along the same road that she and the police had followed the van on yesterday.

"Ms. Kroyn is waiting for you on her plane, ma'am," Gordon replied.

Plane?

She opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it and slumped back in the seat.

See it through, Em!

Refusing to get on the plane would only set her back. In fact, it had a very good chance of halting altogether the momentum she had gained. After all, she had Priscilla's attention now. What's more, Priscilla enjoyed playing with her, which meant Priscilla wasn't yet bored with her. And who could tell how long that would last?

Emily knew that to find the painting she needed Priscilla to continue wanting to play with her. That meant she needed to get on whatever planes, trains, or fucking rocket ships Priscilla wanted her on. And to spend however many nights at the mansion Priscilla wanted her to.

The benefit, of course, was that Priscilla was incredibly sexy, and Emily wanted her.

There were worse things people had to do in order to finish a job…

***

She found Priscilla waiting for her on the plane.

Taking a plush seat directly across from her, she said, "I thought we were going for a drink."

Priscilla cocked an eyebrow.

"But I didn't say where," she stated.

"Ladies, if you'll fasten your seatbelts, please," a pretty flight attendant dressed like an executive assistant said. "We'll be taking off soon." She looked at Emily. "By the way, my name is Ginger. Please let me know if you need anything."

I need to come!

However, Emily doubted that was part of Ginger's duties.

"You know…I had plans today," Emily told Priscilla as she buckled her seatbelt.

Priscilla nodded, her face showing concern. The plane started moving.

"Well," she began, "maybe we can get you back in time for them." She winced. "I mean, it would be kind of tricky, and perhaps involve breaking the laws of physics…"

Emily glared at her.

"Why?" she demanded. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to love this bar!" Priscilla exclaimed. "They make the best pi?a coladas!"

"Where are we going?" Emily repeated.

"Or are you more of a daiquiri girl?" Priscilla queried.

Emily huffed out a breath through her nostrils. The plane was now taxiing quite fast.

Ginger was at the other end of the cabin, strapped into her seat.

"Excuse me, Ginger?" Emily called out, getting her attention. "Where are we going, please?"

"Honolulu, ma'am," Ginger told her.

Emily glared at Priscilla even harder.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she burst out. But then, as she felt the plane begin to lift off, she started laughing.

Of course she was being kidnapped to Hawaii by Priscilla Kroyn! Who else could kidnap her to Hawaii?

"I, uh, didn't pack anything," she told Priscilla snarkily.

"That could be a problem," Priscilla acknowledged. "You might have to stay naked."

Such an innocuous statement under normal circumstances, but Emily's clit started pulsing nonetheless because these were not normal circumstances for her core, which had been denied release this morning.

"Priscilla…" Emily said warningly, crossing her legs in response to what her clit was doing.

"Relax, clothes will be provided," Priscilla told her.

"Good," Emily replied.

"You hope," Priscilla added, an impish look in her eyes.

"Damn you!" Emily said laughing, leaning forward and playfully smacking Priscilla's leg. Now that they were airborne and there was very little she could do about her situation, she decided she needed to relax and enjoy what was happening.

She also supposed she could forget about getting those cameras from Alan and Leslie later.

"So…why are you going to all of this effort for me?" she asked.

Priscilla looked at her for a few moments.

"You won't believe me if I tell you," she said.

"Try me," Emily suggested.

"Maybe later," Priscilla said. "That is, if the pi?a coladas are to your liking."

Emily yawned.

"Excuse me," she said, after yawning a second time.

"There's a bedroom," Priscilla said, tilting her head in the direction behind Emily, towards the back of the plane. "You can take a nap. It's a six-hour flight."

It sounded like a terrific idea. She and Priscilla had stayed awake late last night.

"Join me?" she asked.

Priscilla quirked an eyebrow.

"If I join you…it's to sleep," she replied.

"But I've been…good," Emily said softly, knowing Priscilla would understand.

"Have you?" Priscilla prodded.

"Trust me, I'm about to explode," Emily confessed.

"Then continue being a good girl for a few more hours," Priscilla told her.

As frustrating as that response was, Emily realized that part of her had hoped Priscilla was going to make her wait. Not that she was going to admit that.

"Fine, Ms. Kroyn," she said, even more turned on now.

Priscilla smiled the smile a chess opponent might give once she realized that in two more moves she'd have checkmate.

They had to wait a few more minutes until the plane reached its cruising altitude before they could leave their seats.

"We'll be taking a nap," Priscilla told Ginger. "But wake me if any urgent messages come through."

"Yes, ma'am," Ginger replied.

The bedroom was aft. It contained a queen-sized bed, a low dresser, and its own bathroom and closet. There was even a bookshelf built into the headboard of the bed, with the books kept in place by a metal strip which spanned the length of it.

Emily scanned the titles. They were all related to art or art theory. She even owned a few of the books herself.

"I'm at least taking my top off," she informed Priscilla. She felt a little warm.

"Suit yourself," Priscilla replied.

As she removed the Henley and bra, Emily was certain she would be too horny to sleep. But once she laid down on the cloud-like mattress, and her head rested on the cloud-like pillow, she forgot about how horny she was, and how much she needed more sleep.

Priscilla joined her on the bed, spooning her from behind.

Emily sighed.

"This feels so nice," she said.

"The bed or me?" Priscilla asked softly.

"The bed with you," Emily couldn't help admitting. Fine, she was horny and wanted the incredibly sexy woman who was in bed with her to take care of that for her, but…

She also enjoyed lying like this with Priscilla. The woman just felt so good pressed against her.

And…if she was being honest with herself, she liked that Priscilla was someone who could give her the experience of taking a nap on a luxury aircraft…on a real bed, not a reclined seat. Where the hum of the engines were as effective as a lullaby in making her drift off to slumber.

What a life it would be with her!

But just before she lost consciousness completely, she sent herself a warning…

Careful, Em. She's still a criminal.