My sensual criminals

JAMES

We're getting closer. We don't take this route often, and there's a reason why. It's because we want to keep it secret, and the less it's used, the better.

But that's okay. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and this is the best route from Harrison Smith's apartment to our new safe house. It's been good at the new location. We haven't had too much trouble setting up, and our circle has remained undetected.

But there have been some rumors. Nothing major, but still, the devil is in the details. We have sensed the discontent among our men, and have seen the quick flashes of resentment before they disappear. There are murmurs in the hallway that stop abruptly as our footsteps approach, and I know why.

It's because of Ariana. Our crew doesn't know her, of course, let alone by name. But news travels fast, and there are rumors that there's a girl involved. In our circle, being single is not a preference, it's a necessity. Having love interests, or any kind of family, makes things infinitely more dangerous. As a result, we can't have strings attached. Hookers and party girls are as far as we go with women, so when the rumors started, we understood the discomfort. Ariana could jeopardize not only our safety, but that of the entire operation.

But they have to wait because Jack and I are not going to engage in wild speculation. Sure, his instincts were right, but I wasn't about to acknowledge it. What's more, Ariana needs a place to go, and that place is with us. If the others hate her, they'll have to find another solution. Maybe they're going to leave the crew. Find some other hiding place. I don't know, but Ariana is staying with us.

Fortunately, we haven't had any problems so far, but that could change tonight. After all, tonight's the night: we're going to introduce our little goddess to the gang, and anyone who has a problem with her being with us can leave.

I feel Ariana's chubby little hand in mine and hear her soft, delicate footsteps in the tunnel. This little girl needs us and, even more, we need her. I want her to be with us forever, because the first month without her was agony. Jack and I were miserable, angry and frustrated. Nothing made sense anymore. We had both had prostitutes before just to blow off steam, but now, nothing but our little goddess would do. Any other woman bores us, frankly, and has no charm. At first we used to share our frustrations out loud, as if talking could help us. But that stopped very quickly because the memories only made us sad, frustrated and horny. We tried to ignore her absence, but it was useless. We had to bring her back, somehow, some way.

Finally, we arrived at the safe house. A rusted iron gate is embedded in the concrete wall to my left, and I insert the key into the heavy lock with a click. A brief rattle sounds as the heavy chains move along the iron. Then a creak is heard as I open the iron door and lead Ariana inside, followed by Jack.

"A ladder?" she whispers, the first words she's uttered in a while.

"It's not wide enough for the three of us," Jack growls under his breath. "Start climbing and we'll be right behind you, honey." I walk through the door as well, close it behind me and the three of us start up the concrete steps. The sound of rodent paws tells us that we are approaching an inhabited place. Ariana lets out a small squeak that makes me smile.

"Are they mice or rats?" she whispers with a squinted nose.

"Both," Jack replies mockingly. "You're underground now, princess. This is their territory, not ours."

She shudders and I chuckle under my breath. We continue up the stairs until Ariana stops and I pass the pictures under my arm. "There's a door," she says hesitantly. "What do I do?"

"It's okay, it's not locked. Open it," I order him. And above me, the swaying of wood reveals low, eerily lit walls. Jack and I follow. I close the door behind me and watch Ariana's expression under the industrial lights as she takes in her new surroundings.

"What is this place?" she asks.

"So far, just a basement," I smile. "Follow me," I say taking her by the hand. I want to walk ahead of her so I can turn around and see her face when we turn the corner and enter our shared space, because she's going to love it. After all, when we moved to the new location, we had her needs in mind, even though we weren't sure we'd ever see her again. Jack seems to have the same idea and aligns with me. Just as well, because there is a bulletproof, triple iron double door to open. Jack leans over to the small dial box next to him and presses a succession of buttons. The box beeps and a loud click, more like a bang, comes from inside the door. I look at Ariana and see that her face is nervous but excited, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Jack and I nod to each other and push the double door open with a painful creak. As planned, I turn around to see Ariana's reaction to her new home, and I am not disappointed. Her lips half-open and she gawks. Her eyes, round as saucers, reflect the light of a hundred candles and torches. In the golden glow, her alabaster skin seems even more luminous than usual. Her chest heaves with excitement, drawing our attention to her soft, gigantic tits. We don't even notice when Matthew, our runner, approaches us and grabs the booty to put it in safekeeping.

Our girl looks amazing, like a goddess illuminated by a thousand tealights. Her angelic face and soft curves make it all worthwhile. She has the splendor found only in Renaissance paintings, and the air tightens in my chest. This is where she belongs. With us, in our lair.

I watch her gaze up at the high, wide ceiling of the circular brick room. The walls have torches distributed at eight-foot intervals, with small vents at the base for oxygen. The floor is covered with lush, expensive carpets. Six arches, placed at intervals in the circular room, lead to corridors to a series of private chambers. Dozens of chandeliers, glowing with hundreds of candles, hang from the high ceilings at various levels. Comfortable, expensive sofas populate the room, decorated in midnight blue, velvety purple and deep shades of maroon.

But it's not just the luxurious furnishings, because two dozen men drink, play chess and read quietly. Or at least, they were doing these things because now they are standing still, watching with curious eyes. Who is this pretty girl?

She shifts uncomfortably under their gazes, hiding a little behind me. I don't blame her. Our men are a motley bunch, and many of them look like they've seen better days with their broken noses and cauliflower ears. Plus, they're not exactly well-dressed. That's not what criminals do when they want to go unnoticed.

Jack and I nod to each other. It's time to make this official.