Dead in Hong Kong (Nick Teffinger Thriller) by R.J. Jagger Page A

having him take her back to his place where she could snoop around in hopes of getting even more dirt. When that didn’t work, they decided to break in.
    Well, screw that.
    That insanity was going to end.
    It was time.
    He called Kam Lee Yao and said, “Where are you?”
    “At the establishment.”
    Kong chuckled.
    “I’m going to come over and talk to you.”
    “Why, what’s going on?”
    “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
     
    KAM LEE OWNED AND OPERATED the best dungeon in Hong Kong. It sat in the hills south of the city, on Bowen Road not far from Lover’s Rock. Outside, it looked like a mansion. Inside, i t was a world unlike all others—a world of addictions, a world of s ecrets , a world of f orbidden pleasures. Kam Lee didn’t know it at the time, but her kinky side took hold at age ten, when a pack of boys held her down spread-eagle on the ground and took turns tickling her to death.
    That incident laid dormant for ten years.
    Then she began to explore.
    She preferred to be a top.
    In fact, she was always a top.
    Well, not always.
    She’d submit to a certain few.
    Kong was one of those few.
    She had a stable of lovelies, available 24/7, tops and bottoms, varied enough to satisfy even the most extreme desires. They were pricey, make no mistake about that, but they were worth every penny. There were ten soundproof rooms with a variety of themes; dark dungeons, bedrooms, devices. Five women were on hand at all times to handle the walk-ins—fifteen on the weekends.
    The girls’ schedules were posted on the website.
    Clients could pay cash or credit.
    Confidentiality was paramount.
    Special arrangements were available for high-profile clients or anyone else who wanted absolute discretion. They would be picked up by car, driven to the back door, and escorted in total secrecy to one of the rooms. If they wanted, the slave could even be blindfolded the entire time and never even know who the session was with.
     
    WHEN KONG SHOWED UP, Fan Lee ran a finger down his chest and said, “So what’s going on?”
    He looked around and said, “Let’s talk in private.”
    She took him into a room that had a number of devices—a cross, a rack, and an assortment of sexual furniture—and closed the door.
    He exhaled.
    “I need your help with something.”
    “How bad do you need it?”
    “Bad,” he said.
    She smiled and said, “Good.”
    Then she slid her dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She wore nothing underneath, other than a drop-dead gorgeous body.
    “Do a session with me and I’ll help you,” she said.
    “You don’t even know what I want you to do yet.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    Kong cocked his head.
    “It might be dangerous.”
    “Repeat, it doesn’t matter.”
    “Now?”
    She nodded.
    “You’re the only one I trust enough,” she said. “I’ve been in the mood for a month.”
    Then she laid on her back on the rack and stretched her arms over her head. Kong knew what to do, he’d done it before. He stretched her out, tight, so that she was barely able to move.
    “Comfy?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “How long of a session to you want?”
    “A half hour.”
    The words shocked him.
    The longest session to this point had been ten minutes.
    “Really?”
    “Yes,” she said, “and no matter what I do or say, don’t stop. I want the full half hour. Promise me.”
    “If that’s what you want.”
    “That’s what I want.”

Chapter Thirty
    Day Five—August 7
    Friday Afternoon
    ______________
     
    PRARIE MADE IT TO SHORE without drowning or getting killed by the rock star but couldn’t find Emmanuelle, so she headed back to the InterContinental.
    Good thing, too.
    Emmanuelle was there.
    They hugged.
    “That was too close,” Emmanuelle said.
    True.
    Very true.
    “The laptop got a lot of water on it but it still turns on,” Emmanuelle added. “Unfortunately it has a security password so I haven’t been able to get in yet. Once we do get in, I have no idea