Naked Sushi by Jina Bacarr Page A

with tattoos following me. Guys with tattoos never followed me.
    So I wasn’t surprised when Steve showed up with his scary request. It wasn’t enough the FBI had seen me half-naked and put me through an interrogation like I’d tried to get past airport security with a double latte. Now he wanted me to play Mata Hari. I knew what happened to her, and it wasn’t pretty.
    “Hi, I’m Pepper O’Malley,” I choked out, handing the balding manager my résumé. He smelled like garlic and had pepperoni stuck in his teeth. I held my breath. “I’m here for the ball-pit job.”
    “You got any experience?” he asked, and then sneezed on my resume.
    “Yeah, sure,” I said, unnerved. “I play with balls all the time.”
    He snickered. Too late I realized what I’d said. Then he explained to me that all I had to do was keep the kids’ ball pond filled with red, blue, yellow and green hollow plastic balls. Hey, a job is a job. And you get free pizza, a programmer’s main food staple. So what if being trapped with a bunch of screaming kids in a padded cage wasn’t my dream job? A girl had to eat.
    The manager stuffed my résumé into his jeans waistband and then looked me up and down while he picked his teeth. With a penknife. “Do you have good people skills, Pepper?” His eyes lingered on my breasts.
    “I love kids,” I blurted out.
    “She hates kids,” said a deep male voice behind me. It made my nipples hard.
    Steve.
    He didn’t stop there.
    “She eats them for breakfast.”
    “Who’s your boyfriend?” The pizza parlor manager wanted to know, staring at Steve like he wanted to put him through a sausage grinder.
    “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, my spirits sinking.
    “I’m her pimp,” Steve said, and then he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the pizza parlor. Holding me by the elbow, he steered me toward his unmarked car parked in an alley. Nobody around. Perfect for a kidnapping.
    “Why did you do that?” I asked, jumping into the passenger seat rather than make a scene. I didn’t want to go downtown to the federal building a second time. “I answered a hundred online ads, and this was the only job that would talk to me.”
    “Cool it, Pepper, I’ve got a better offer for you.”
    “Since when did wearing a wire for the FBI pay the big bucks?”
    “You’re going to be a companion girl,” he said, checking his messages on his cell.
    “A what? ”
    “Your job is to entertain Japanese businessmen.”
    My eyes bugged out. “I’m not taking off my clothes again.”
    “You don’t have to. You’ll wear a recording device here.” He slipped his hand under my baby tee and cupped my breast. Okay, so he had my attention. Next, he flicked his finger under my bra strap.
    Oh, that wasn’t fair. He knew I was dying for him to pinch my nipple.
    “What if he gives me a bear hug and finds the wire stuck to my tits with duct tape?” I asked, trying my best not to get turned-on. I didn’t want to go down that road only to be disappointed again. I liked Steve too much to play games.
    “It’s not like the old days, Pepper, when you had to wear a clunky, battery-operated recorder. Everything’s digital. The recorder is implanted in a jeweled pin.” He smiled that devil grin of his. “No one is going give you a New Jersey pat-down but me.”
    He leaned over and ran his hands expertly up and down my rib cage, then between my thighs, taking time to dig his finger into my crotch. He rubbed his thumb into the tight denim cutting into me.
    Pushing, probing, stroking, delicious sensations filled me up. I squirmed. So much for me not getting turned-on. It was pure hell for me not to unzip my jeans and slide them down my thighs so he could finger me.
    I decided to play along. Let him try to convince me.
    What did I have to lose?’
    I had no intention of wearing a wire.
    “How do you know Mr. Briggs will be at this fancy party?” I leaned in and ran my finger along the sexy stubble on his chin. I