Part Thirty-One: The Sex Club

                                    

                                          
Today's the day we meet Hassan: our target.
All of Task Force 141 has played a vital role in taking down Al-Qatala, but to take down the leader feels daunting, to say the least.
But we're ready for this. I'm ready for this.
Ghost and I have spent weeks preparing for today.
First impressions are everything, so I need to be on my A-game the entire time. 
Ahmad says since I'm a foreigner Hassan is very excited to meet me.
Oh yay! Lucky me! 
Pfft. 
It's time to head to the underground sex club that Ahmad tells us is referred to as "The Underground". 
Very creative...
Ghost and I finish getting dressed. Ghost is wearing a black button-up silky shirt, except the top buttons are undone and you can see part of his beautiful chest. His shirt is paired with nice slacks, black loafers, and a plain black balaclava. 
God, he looks delicious.
Focus, Breanna.
I'm wearing a black latex dress so tight I feel like my rib cage is cracking. It's incredibly short, too...you can see just the bottom of my ass cheeks. 
If I were to bend over you'd be able to see my bright red thong and my money maker.
The dress is strapless, almost like a corset top, so my poor tits are bursting at the seem. For reference, I'm a D cup, but I'm looking like double, maybe even triple D's...
This outfit is paired with black latex thigh-high boots.
Naturally, my hair is big, bouncy, and curly. My makeup is smoky. 
As I look at myself in the mirror I'm convinced that I was a prostitute in a past life.
Ghost comes up behind me and tries to pull my dress down a little.
"Hey! If you do that my nipples will fly out!" I reprimand, embarrassed.
I can tell by how the fabric of his balaclava shifts that Ghost is frowning. He sighs. "Little revealing, no?" 
"I'm pretty sure that's the point." I roll my eyes.
"Right." He shakes his head. "Let's go."
We don't have the exact address of the club, so we first need to meet up with Ahmad and Cyra at a random address they provided for us. We're going to carpool to The Underground. 
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little upset. I really don't want to see Cyra again because of what happened. 
As we drive to the location to meet them Ghost catches onto this. 
"You're upset. Why?" He breaks the silence. 
"I'm not." I clearly am. 
"Breanna, please," Ghost sighs.
"It's stupid," I pout.
"Say it anyways."
Dammit. 
We said we'd be honest with each other from here on out...
"Let's just say I'm not thrilled to have to see Cyra," I say upset, crossing my arms, and facing the window.
Geez, I sound jealous. Well, I am. I hate that I am.
Ghost sighs, "I understand. It's my fault you're in this position. I'm sorry."
"It's whatever," I dismiss. 
"It's not whatever," Ghost says firmly.
"I'm telling you it is." 
"Brea-"
I cut him off.  
"Not now. Later." I stand my ground.
He nods his head and lets the matter go. For now, at least. 
We finally pull up to the location and Ahmad and Cyra are standing outside, waiting for us. 
"Hello, friends!" Ahmad looks ecstatic.
"Great to see you, Ahmad." Ghost shakes his hand.
"Hello, Cyra." Ghost timidly shakes her hand, feigning politeness.
"Good to see you again, Michael." Cyra has a stupid little grin on her face. 
"Hi to you too, Sarah," Cyra says pettily.
Bitch.
"Hello," I deadpan, averting my gaze. If I give Cyra too much attention it'll consume me.
Ghost is staring at me. You can cut the tension with a knife.
"Haha! Should we get going then? Hassan is very eager to meet Sarah." Ahmad winks at me.
"Yes, let's get going," Ghost agrees.
We sit in an incredibly awkward car ride, but I think it only feels that way to me. The three of them are talking and getting along fine. 
Ahmad is driving and Cyra is in the passenger seat. Ghost and I are sitting together in the back. 
He has his hand on my thigh the entire drive. 
I like that. 
It takes quite a while to get to the club. It doesn't help that it's in the middle of the red-light district. As we drive we can see that the streets are riddled with prostitutes trying to survive.
It's hard to see. 
These poor women and girls...
Finally, we arrive at the club. From the outside, it looks like an abandoned, disheveled building.
As we approach the entrance, a man opens a slit in the door and says, "Password" in Persian. 
Ahmad responds in their mother tongue, providing the password: "Paradise".
The door opens and there stands a single man and a flight of stairs heading underground, a few multi-colored bulbs dimly illuminating the space.
All of a sudden fear washes over me.
Am I really ready for this?