“I haven" t seen you around the Quarterz before. What" s your name?” The username that had seemed flippant when I created my account didn" t seem like such a hot idea now. But then I" d never expected anyone to get close enough to me to take me up on the implied invitation.
He let go of my hand, fingers walking slowly up my arm to trace the line of my collarbone, touch my chin. “Don" t be shy.”
I ducked my head and mumbled, “Snatch Me.”
“Bold name for such a shy girl.”
The guy just to my right spoke up. “I" ve seen her here a few times, out by the front gate. Reading the rules but never coming in.” This one was bald and dressed in biker leather, black vest, pants, lots of chains and tattoos. My mouth was so dry I could barely peel my tongue away from the roof of it to speak.
“I" m not shy and I" ve been inside.”
“Really?” The biker guy cupped my right breast in his hand, his thumb flicking back and forth over the nipple while the interrogation continued. The gleam in his eyes had my stomach doing a flip-flop. I wondered which part of that statement appealed to him. “Who broke you in?”
I had to bite my tongue to keep my jaw from dropping. I" d never heard anyone be so blatant about sex, so politically incorrect. No man had touched me, in a sexual way, while other men looked on. My mind was asking “what" s the matter with you?” while my nipples went harder and every flick of that thumb reverberated through a region much farther down.
“Answer the question. Or this is your first time?” This came from a dark-eyed man with what I thought was an Italian accent. He was tanned so dark I could easily imagine he spent his days naked, taking prey in sundrenched vineyards. He was shirtless now, wearing only black jeans. His straight black hair was cut in a primitive style that had the look of being done with the long knife he wore on his belt. He was the one attached to the other end of the leash around my neck.
Each man, in his own way, had made a physical connection to me. The air seemed to drip testosterone.
“Who broke you in?” the biker repeated.
If I had ever known the answer to the question, I doubted I would remember it now.
“I don" t know his name. But he was tall. Built.” Given the encounters I" d had so far, built might not be a helpful identifying characteristic in this world. “He had a place down the river out where the cliffs are the shade of emeralds.” A grin stretched in triplicate across three faces. It was sexily different on each man.
“Wastelander,” the Italian said.
“She might be a fun ride after all,” the biker said. The hand cupping my breast squeezed.
”Waster breaks them in right,” the blond agreed. He was close enough now that his knee bumped my thigh. My bottom lip started to tremble. I bit down to hide the weakness.
His voice gentled. “I" m Hunt.” He tipped his head left toward the biker. “That" s Urit.” And a nod toward the Italian. “Romero.”
What should I say? Nice to meet you?
I nodded. Waited. We all knew how this would end. I supposed they were deciding how to begin working toward that end. I couldn" t run so the next move was theirs.
“Only the once then, with Waster?” Hunt asked.
“Only the once,” I said. I didn" t want to think about Waster and his role as expert deflowerer of cyber-virgins.
“When did Waster ever use one more than once?” Urit asked.
“Shut up,” said Hunt. “You follow him around and count the times he snatches each prey? The point is, she" s still new.”
Was he trying to spare my feelings? A hot blush crept up my neck. I couldn" t adjust to the idea of chatting with three men about my sexual experience as casually as we might chat about weather. I tried to move things along.
“So you have me. What next?”
Romero and Urit looked at Hunt. Hunt looked at me, curled a lock of my hair around one finger while he considered.
“What" s next? Next you have some choices… One, you get to safe-out and go home.
We don" t do anything here you don" t want. Two-if you aren" t keen on three of us, Romero made the catch and you can go somewhere with him and he can do what he likes with you.”
Romero moved closer then, his lips quirked up in a hopeful half smile.
“Or,” Hunt continued, drawing my attention back to him. “You can join the three of us for a game of lucky librarian.”
Urit grinned and winked.
“What" s lucky about a librarian?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of lucky,” Urit answered. “Now the way I see it, it" s lucky if you lose the game and all three of us haul you back here to do the deed.” He tipped his head toward the grungy table.
Hunt expanded on the explanation. “Or you might get lucky and win your freedom before any of us has you.”
“If going home unfucked is your definition of lucky,” Urit said.
“There are rules for this librarian game?”
“You pick first, bebe. No rules until pick.” Romero smoothed my tousled hair.
They were focused, intent.
“You think, I won" t safe-out,” I said, stalling for time.
“Girls who come to read rules three days in a row don" t safe-out,” Urit said.
“The smart girls always find the library,” Hunt said. He was still twirling my hair around his finger while he spoke. “Smart girls always think they can win.”
“And they make for the best fucking when they find out they" re wrong,” Urit added. “All that thinking makes them hot.” He had a gleam in his eye. I knew he was baiting me. I still couldn" t let it slide.
“If you" re so good why does it take three hunters to catch one prey?”
“Because prey are smart,” Hunt said with a shrug.
“And you don" t have to have three,” Romero reminded her. “Not unless you want.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an endearing way.
Urit" s thumb was flicking my nipple again. “So what do you think, girl?” I had to be out of my mind. This whole thing smacked of a trick, sounded too easy, but they were charming. Yeah, even Urit in his own scruffy way. I knew I could outwit him. He knew I thought I could.
“I always wanted to be a librarian,” I said. I was rewarded with whoops. And pinches.
“These are the rules,” Romero began. “You get one hour. You still have clothes in one hour, you free.”
“Still have clothes?”
Urit walked to the checkout desk and grabbed a box from behind it. He tossed. I caught.
“You put on the costume,” Hunt said. “We give you five minutes head start. You hide where you want. We find you and take one item, then let you go.”
“Same guy can" t strip a trophy twice in the row,” Romero said.
“Get dressed,” Hunt said. Now that I had committed, he was all business. “Unleash her.”
Romero yanked his dagger from his belt, eyed me hopefully. “One last chance to change your mind, bebe?” It was tempting. I could imagine being pinned by those dark eyes, tied to a bed somewhere in a row house while Romero fucked me senseless. My sensible side threw water on the fantasy. I could beat these guys at this game. I knew it.
“Cut me loose.” He did, then slipped a hand under my skirt and relieved me of my dagger. “Librarians don" t carry knife.”
The costume was prim, proper and pink. Ugh. There were plenty of layers-skirt, jacket, blouse, chemise, stockings, garters, panties, bra, slip. No way they could win this! When I was dressed, Urit put my clothes in the box. Since I was a “noob” they dropped their prey scanners in with my clothes. The box was taped shut and returned to its place under the admission desk.
Hunt called out the time and said, “Go.”
I went.
At first I ran crisscrossing the allies, up one street, down the next, until even I didn" t know where I was. I ducked into a cellar to give myself time to think up a plan. I didn" t have a watch, so I couldn" t tell how much time I had left. The Quarterz was a big place.