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A floodlight flicked on, illuminating Tam’s fluffy mane of blond hair from above, lighting up her whorish outfit as if she were clothed in scanty strips of molten metal. “Yoo-hoo!” She jumped, making her tits bounce. “Anybody there? Hellooo! I’m lost! Anybody there? Anybody?”
The door opened. A large man was silhouetted against the yellow light inside. He moved slowly towards the gate, an automatic rifle cradled in his hands. His thick, squarish face resembled that of a bulldog. “Who are you?” he called out.
“Oh, thank God! Am I glad to see you! I’m looking for Sumner Road,” Tam said. “I’ve been going totally nuts. My name’s Brandi.”
It was always jarring to hear Tam cast off her usual crisp pan-European accent and do a flat American caricature.
“I don’t know any Sumner Road. You should go back to Kimble and get directions there,” Bulldog advised.
“Oh, God, that’s going to take me forever,” Tam moaned. “I was supposed to dance at this bachelor party, and now there’s probably not even any point in going. And it’s cold, too! Would you believe, I forgot my sweater? And dressed like this too! Just look at me!” She spun around for his benefit. “I am, like, freezing in this teensy little thing! I don’t suppose you have any nice hot coffee in there, do you?”
Bulldog looked her over. “What are you, some kind of stripper?”
“Actually, my act is a little more complicated,” Tam confided. “I use butterscotch syrup, you see. And the groom licks it off.”
Bulldog stared at her for ten full seconds. “What part of you does he lick it off from?”
Tam let out a throaty giggle. “Depends on how much I’ve been paid, big boy. The best man for this party only wanted to spring for lips and nipples. But if the groom is up for it, and the party wants to tip me enough, he can just paint me up with syrup and…move south.”
“How far south?” Bulldog’s voice sounded strangled.
Tam giggled again. “Oh, all the way,” she whispered. “If he wants.”
Davy’s shoulders shook. He had both hands clamped over his mouth. Aaro and Seth and Connor were grinning like fools. Fucking pack of clowns, Nick thought, irritated. This was not a goddamn game.
“You mean, for a big enough tip, he can lick your—”
“I just love having it licked and licked and licked,” Tam cooed. “And if he makes me come while he’s at it, he gets a big discount.”
Long silence. “Uh…on what?” Bulldog couldn’t help but ask.
“On the next part of the evening’s entertainment. Where I paint butterscotch over a body part of his choosing and lick it off of him.”
They held their breaths for Bulldog’s response.
“Uh, want to come in and have that cup of coffee?” the guy asked. “I want to introduce you to the guys. They have got to hear this.”
“Oh, thanks! I would just love to!” Tam burbled.
The gate churned open. Tam slid her arm chummily through Bulldog’s elbow and minced along with him towards the guardhouse. It was harder to follow the sound once she disappeared inside. A guy inside was scolding Bulldog, calling him an asshole.
“Lighten up, Roger,” they heard Bulldog scoff. “It’s just a cup of coffee. Here you go, gorgeous. Cream and sugar are right here.”
“Oh, thanks! Oh, wow, that’s cool equipment! What’s that splotchy thing on the screen? Is that, like, infrared, or something?”
“Thermal imaging,” Bulldog explained. “Hey, toots. Tell ’em about the butterscotch syrup.”
They slid out of the van. The vehicle had a thermal barrier, so they’d been invisible inside it, and the thermal cloaks covered them once they were outside of it.
The five men crept slowly, flat to the ground. There wasn’t much time before the ice-celled cloaks warmed up and their own body heat started to show.
Come on, Tam. Stop dicking around. Get on with it. Now. Please.
The guys in the guardhouse were loving it. Bulldog was now warmed up and jovial, trying to persuade Tam to go to a hotel with them when their shift was over and give them a private performance.
Tam balked, coyly. “It’s tempting, but it would be so unprofessional. I should find the Sumner Road guys. I mean, the guy’s getting married tomorrow, so this is, like, his last chance, right?”
Bulldog chortled. “Last chance, my ass. I’m married too, gorgeous, but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. I like butterscotch.”
