Chapter 9: Every Breath You Take (I’ll Be Watching You)

The rain pelted Emily’s bare shoulders as she darted through the alley, her breath ragged, her feet splashing in puddles. The grope coat lay discarded behind her, a humiliating memory she couldn’t bear to keep touching her skin. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, the cool night air kissing every inch of her exposed, golden-brown skin. She was drenched, her hair plastered to her face in dark, inky strands, her body trembling from a mixture of cold and frustration.

“I just need something to wear,” she muttered to herself, darting into the nearest shadowed doorway.

Inside, she found an abandoned beachside boutique. The display rack was a joke—a lineup of fluorescent spandex, glittering mesh, and bikini tops so small they could double as eye patches. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Emily rifled through the racks, her fingers snagging on neon strings and sequined fabrics.

“Seriously?” she whispered, holding up a gold micro-dress that shimmered under the flickering fluorescent light. It was absurdly short, with a neckline that plunged all the way to her navel. The back? Nonexistent. But it was all she had. With a defeated groan, she pulled it on.

The dress clung to her like a second skin, the wet rainwater making the fabric mold to her curves. The sequins shimmered with every movement, and the skirt rode dangerously high on her thighs. Her breasts, still swollen from earlier misadventures, pressed boldly against the plunging neckline, the fabric struggling to contain her.

“Goddamn it,” she muttered, tugging at the hem to no avail.

A soft, mechanical hum broke through her thoughts. Emily turned, startled, to see an old jukebox in the corner, its neon tubes pulsing faintly in the dim light. She took a cautious step back, but before she could bolt, the jukebox sprang to life. The neon tubes flared brilliantly, casting the room in an eerie, colorful glow.

A sultry, breathy voice spilled from the speakers, accompanied by a low, pounding synth beat.

(Verse 1)

Welcome to paradise, where the rules are hot,

Every little move you make ties you up in a knot.

Rule number one: show your skin, don’t be shy,

The less you wear, the higher you’ll fly.

Emily’s stomach dropped as the lyrics wrapped around her like a teasing whisper. She glanced down at her barely-there dress and felt a flush of heat creep up her neck.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the sultry music. “No, I’m not doing this.”

She turned to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t locked, but her fingers couldn’t seem to grip the handle.

(Pre-Chorus)

Rule two’s a tease: bikinis must stay tight,

But if they slip, it will be a real fun night!

Rule three? Oh, honey, it’s quite a scene—

A splash in the pool makes your outfit obscene.

The music grew louder, the voice sultrier. Emily stumbled back, her heel catching on a loose floorboard, and the dress’s hemline rode up higher. Her reflection in a nearby mirror caught her eye. The sequined fabric sparkled like it belonged on a Vegas showgirl, and her drenched hair clung to her face in a way that was maddeningly sensual.

“Stop it,” she hissed, yanking at the dress, but her hands faltered as the jukebox’s hypnotic beat pulsed through her. Her hips started to sway, unbidden, in time with the rhythm.