VIDEO - Carly Simon sings SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHT.

Mike and Jax spend a night at the Plaza Hotel filled with love, sex, leather, and ... some things that just can't be explained ...

**

Usually Jax leaned right into Mike when they got into a taxi, but this time she didn't. He had to move over to her. She was dabbing at her eye make-up with the tissue when the car turned up Eighth Avenue.

"What?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I'm not sexy enough for you now?"

He could feel her stiffen.

"You're too sexy in that leather gear. There's not a girl in town who wouldn't totally jump in your lap if she had the chance. I should've just told you to get lost when you showed up. You and me, dude, it'll never work out."

Mike leaned his forehead against her ear, nuzzling the thick black hair. "Yah, I've heard that before from the other you."

"She was right. You know what the story is. And it doesn't get any better. It just keeps getting worse. These fucking cults apparently never die out. They'll keep after me until they get me again."

He hugged her tight. "I'll protect you."

"You're a writer. You like the drama. It's stranger than everything else combined. I'm broken and you want to fix me. But, let me tell you, you'll get tired of it. I'm tired of it."

"No, you're wrong. I love you and want to be with you. I don't want to fix you. I like you just the way you are. Both of you. I'll take care of you."

Jax sighed impatiently. Trouble was, she believed him. But he was crazy. No sensible guy would sign on for a situation like hers. "You can't watch me every second. They're cunning. They're evil. They believe they have supernatural power. They'll get me in the end."

"We'll get away. We can go to Italy and live with my dad. My mom lives in a castle nearby in France. It's got a hundred rooms. We can go there."

She let out a weary breath as Mike's hand caressed the tattoo on her shoulder. "It wouldn't work, Mike. The cult originated in Italy. They probably have covens there, and in France too. They'd find me."

"But why you? Why do they have to have you?"

"Because I'm big magic. My father was the high priest. I was bred for the cult, to grow up and have babies for them to sacrifice. They know they'd never be able to get me to do that now, willingly. But I have great value to them as a sacrifice to Satan."

Mike growled and shook his head. "They're fucking nuts. Couldn't we pay them off to leave you alone? We have tons of money."

"Didn't you ever hear that money can't buy everything? It'd never work. You could offer them a hundred million, but that would only up the stakes on me. Try to understand. They really believe they get power from the devil for a blood sacrifice. The better the person, in their eyes, the more the power."

"Morons," Mike gruffed. "How can they believe in that crap?"

"It's a road to power for them – riches, fame, all of it. Like last night ... oh, jeez ... when they threw Henry off the terrace. They knew that fence was there. They threw him down purposely as a sacrifice, an unplanned one ... but a good one. Because he had betrayed them. To sacrifice a betrayer you get all kinds of perks. Especially somebody who ..."

"Whoa! Wait a minute." Mike grabbed her chin and pulled her face to look at him. "What do you mean ... he betrayed them?"

He saw tears spring to her eyes and she pulled away and looked back out the window, dabbing at them. Her voice was low and shaky as she said, "You're not gonna like this."

Mike gritted his teeth and braced himself. "Fuck. Tell me, please. And quick."

She began to cry. "Oh crap, there goes the eye makeup. Oh Mike, he was one of them. Henry belonged to the cult. It all happened so fast when they ran into the den. I was at the table, working on the manuscript. Henry ran in, he and the big man dressed as the devil, along with a huge Asian guy and another thug. Henry was ahead of them, shouting warnings at me. He saw your gun on the table and grabbed it, threatened them to leave me alone, that he'd let them in the house just to scare you, so you'd stop investigating them. But they wanted me, of course. And the devil guy laughed at him, called him a wimp, said he didn't have the balls to shoot them. He lunged and knocked the gun out of Henry's hand. Then he ordered the others to pick him up and throw him off the terrace ... and ... oh fuck ... make sure he hit the fence!"

She looked at Mike and saw that his face had hardened from the shock. "The devil guy ... he already knew the terrace was there. He didn't even look that way. I remember thinking that he must've been there before. I tried to pick up the gun, but he kicked it away and grabbed me. And that's when I heard Henry scream ... "

Jax sighed and rested her head against Mike's shoulder. "To sacrifice a traitor like that is big mojo. And I'd be even bigger. The biggest, now that I managed to escape from them this morning."

Mike's heart was thumping slowly and his skin crawling. He'd never suspected anything like this. Henry had belonged to the cult! He was the link that they hadn't been able to figure out. He had let the cult members into the house.

He groaned. "Christ! Henry must've known about the tunnel leading into the ground floor. They found it today. It goes from the apartment house in back to the utility room, and an old sewer tunnel off it goes into the museum property. They'd been walled up for decades, but recently made accessible again. No one knew that house as well as Henry did. I can't believe he was one of them. He was such a strict Catholic."

"Most of them are ," Jax told him. "Then they cross over to the other side, but still keep up the pretense that they're devout Catholics."

Mike shook his head, trying to rid himself of the awful feeling coursing through him. He and Giorgio had been closer to Henry than their own parents. And now ... the man had betrayed them, let devil worshipers into the house to attack him and kidnap Jax. And who knew what else they'd done in there?

Jax smoothed her hand under the leather straps of Mike's harness and her fingers played with the valley between his pectoral muscles.

"Don't hate him too much," she said, sensing his pain. "Some people are very susceptible to the mesmerizing ways of cults."

Mike nodded. "I won't. Not too much. At least he tried to help you. But this is going to absolutely kill Giorgio."

"I know." Jax was playing with Mike's left nipple now, his smooth naked chest a much-needed distraction for her. She sighed, sniffling. "But he's got to know the truth."

Mike grunted. "The truth is just one big horror story lately."

"Tell me about it." Jax grabbed a harness strap with her fingers and pulled at it. "And then, after all this nightmare, I just want to get dolled up and go out and dance and forget about it ... and look what happened. A girl can't even have any fun."

She slid her hand down from Mike's chest over the smooth washboard of his abs, and clutched onto the thick leather belt in the loops of his pants.

"You got a little too dolled up, honey," he said, tingling sensations sparking in his groin from her touch. "And it probably would have helped to wear some underwear."

So close to her now with the skirt riding up her legs, he could see that there was nothing there, as he'd suspected. And it was driving him crazy. He was having the hardest time keeping his hands to himself.

Jax managed a little laugh. "Sorry, I didn't have the right color. I don't exactly have a complete wardrobe with me. Besides, not only am I a filthy rich Fifth Avenue heiress, as the newspapers pointed out, thanks to you, but I'm also certifiably nuts. So I get to do exactly what I want, whatever and wherever."

Her fingers slid down Mike's pants top and shoved their way under his silky briefs.

Mike bit her earlobe. "If you keep it up with those fingers, I definitely will take advantage of the fact that you don't have any underwear on." He had the most gorgeous view of her breasts from atop them, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Where'd you get that little piece of a dress?"

As the taxi sped around Columbus Circle in the late night traffic, Jax told Mike about Evelyn Bond, how she had awakened at the woman's Gramercy Park townhouse this morning naked and bound to the bed, and how she had escaped.

"Jeezus!" Mike grunted when she had finished the tale. "You're like a superhero chick. Those cult members are sure as hell pissed off at you now, pulling off an escape like that. I see what you mean. They've gotta get you. It's turned into a matter of pride for them now.

"And that woman," he added. "Eric and I saw her with Santoro on Saturday night coming out of the House of Pain. We thought she was a client of his. I never dreamed she'd be a member of the cult."

Jax nodded. "Giorgio told me about that. You and I never really had the chance to discuss it all. And Santoro is one of them too."

"So that's why you want to kill him?"

"Yes, he turned me in to them. He recognized my tattoo as their mark."

Mike uttered an impatient growl. "And so you're running around town in that get-up with a gun, looking for him?"

Her eyes flashed at him. "Exactly. I'm rich and I'm crazy, remember? I do what the fuck I want."

Mike shook his head wearily. She was right. She had more than enough money to do whatever she wanted because she could afford to buy herself out of almost any kind of trouble. Except the cult wanting to get her.

He asked, "Would you really kill him?"

She was silent for a moment, her fingers playing with his stiffening cock. Then, "I like to think I would. When I'm really angry, I think I'd do it. But maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I'd just shoot out his kneecaps. I don't know if I can be a murderer even to save my own life. But I hope I can."

"What is it that you do with Santoro at the House of Pain?" Mike asked her.

Jax gripped his growing erection. "Oh my, this is so nice. I never did get to see it or feel it, other than it pressing against me."

Squirming, Mike let out an exasperated breath. "Quit changing the subject. Answer my question."

But she went on babbling. "I always wanted to have a dick. A nice big one like this. I used to think it'd be such fun. After all, I was sort of raised as a boy. I even bought a dildo a couple years ago, the kind you strap on, but I threw it out when I was that other girl. She didn't like it. I'm surprised I'm not a lesbian."

"Not at all?" Mike asked, and then took a deep sharp breath as she began to stroke him.

"No, I'm not even a little bit bi. But many cross-dressed kids grow up gay or at least very gender-confused. I had a lot of therapy for it. Cross-dressing young children is considered sexual abuse. It usually has sexual overtones from the perpetrators, even if they're the parents. And it always confuses the kids about gender identity."

"It's a pretty crazy thing to do." Mike shivered from the stroking. His cock was on fire, throbbing, and streaks of sensation were coursing up his spine. There was an aching in his balls and the burning in his thighs that he experienced earlier had returned with an explosive flood.

"Now tell me about Santoro," he demanded. "And stop changing the subject."

Jax laughed at him as the taxi swerved around a corner and pulled up to a stop. "Too late, Heathcliff. We're at the hotel."

Mike looked out the window to see that they were stopped in front of the entrance to the Plaza Hotel. Great! Not only did he have to walk in there half-naked and wearing leather, but he was also in a near-climax state and had a big boner he'd probably not be able to hide.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he griped at her. "I'm not like Heathcliff. He was mean and abusive. I'm not. I'm a nice guy."

"You're just like him romantically." Jax drew her hand out of his pants and took some bills from her purse with her other hand, leaned forward and handed them to the driver. "And he was only abusive because Cathy drove him crazy."

Mike was trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. "Like you're driving me crazy?"

Jax laughed, handing the change back to the driver for a tip. "Exactly. I'm at least as looney as she was, and then some, because there are two of me.

"And besides," she added, as she opened the car door and swung her legs out, tugging the skirt down protectively, "you look just like him. To-die-for dreamy handsome. That other me is crazy in love with you. But ... too bad, hunk doll ... not this me."

"Wait a minute!"

Mike jumped out after her as she stepped up to the curb. There were scores of people in front of the hotel and every eye seemed to turn to them as he grabbed hold of her arm and they crossed the sidewalk.

"Don't give me that crap," he said to her. "I don't believe you. You've got to feel the same as she does. You're both the same girl. You're just wilder and more aggressive. And I like that. I like it a lot."

She held onto him to help her balance in the spikes as she went up the steps. "Don't count on my being around if I stay like this. Those doctors kept saying this could happen, that severe trauma could flip me out into the wilder one. Ha! Well, here I am. You can make the sweetie-me happy easily. But not this me."

Mike squeezed her arm hard as they walked through the golden doors into the lobby. He lowered his voice. "You'll tell me what Santoro does. I'll learn how to do it. I'll take lessons if I have to. I'll make you happy, all right. No one else will ever get the fucking chance."

Then, "Look!"

They were walking past a bank of gilded mirrors and he stopped her, made her look at their reflection.

"Look at us. We're sensational together. Awesome. We almost caused a riot down there at the Red Club. If Ronnie saw us garbed up like this she'd put us up on billboards all over Manhattan. You're dreaming if you think I'll ever let you go."

He was right. What she saw surpassed even her own high standards of style, fashion, and beauty. With her hair dark to match his, their toned sexy physiques, and the provocative leather clothing, they looked like they were borne of the same DNA and bound together forever by it.

She pulled him toward the elevators. "Everybody's watching us. They think we stopped to admire ourselves."

Mike snorted a laugh. "Yah right. As if our lives could ever be so simple that vanity is our problem."

He didn't care if the others were looking. He was getting used to the constant scrutiny now. Eyes followed them as they walked by the registration counter and he nodded and smiled at women who were sending him admiring glances.

"How'd you pay for a suite here today," he asked, "without your name being recognized? It was in the papers and on TV."

"Thanks to you," she harrumphed. "I had to get a new phone because my other one's at your house. I downloaded an app from one of my banks in Europe. Brand new. You pay via the phone. No name. No account number. Perfect for the rich and crazy on the run."

"And you registered with a phony name?"

"Yes, I've done this before, dreamboat. Your girlfriend Jax isn't the only one who lives in this body."

"Sure there aren't any more of you in there?" he asked as they arrived at the elevators.

That made her laugh. "Yah right, dude. They would not want to mess with me for power and position, let me tell you. I only let the other one stay because she was here first."

As they rode up in a crowded elevator, Jax played with the straps on Mike's leather harness, her fingers tickling his pecs and upper abs. The other people in the car couldn't help but look and Mike knew Jax was loving the attention, same as she had at the Red Club. He'd done some reading online earlier in the afternoon about multiple personalities and the Dissociative Identity Disorder that caused them. She had all the common symptoms including the continual anxiety of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of the abuse she'd had as a child.

But he believed this Jax was not a distinct personality with a completely different persona. She was more a borderline personality, one right on the edge of the real one that she flipped into at times of major trauma and stress. Basically the same person, but without the extreme gamut of fears and phobias that the original persona had. And, he had read, the borderline personality often remembered everything about the real person, but not vice-versa, like in this case.

Mike squeezed her elbow and pulled her closer. He'd prefer that the real Jax came back. But if he had to live with this one for the rest of his life, he knew that his head would constantly be reeling, his heart always thumping, and his groin always throbbing. And what more could any man possibly want?

He could see she was getting antsy when they got off on the tenth floor. She pulled him out of the elevator and just about pushed him down the hall.

"Jeez! What's the hurry?"

She made a face at him. "Last night I kept picturing you and Giorgio with Emma and Leona. Uh! It made me so horny. And I felt so left out. Now it's my turn. Well, at least with you. Giorgio wouldn't care about doing it with me."

Mike laughed. "He would if I was there too. Maybe I'll tell you what he and I did together last night for Emma and Leona."

They had arrived at her suite and Jax took the key card out of her purse. "Please don't. It'll drive me crazy. You two are enough to drive a girl to total distraction. And the thought of you together ... damn!"

She opened the door and hustled Mike into the sitting room of the suite. She'd left a lamp turned on and Mike looked around the luxurious room remembering the many times he'd stayed in the hotel with his dad. Even though they had a big house just blocks up the street, there'd often been parties and business events held here that demanded his dad's presence, and it was more convenient just to stay at the hotel.

Jax turned on another lamp, a bigger one, and it flooded the room with light. Mike looked at her gorgeous face, framed by the jet black hair and adorned with the ruby red lipstick and outer-space eyes.

"The makeup didn't run at all," he said. "Must be tear-proof. It looks fine."

She pulled the purse off from around her neck and tossed it on the table by the window overlooking Fifth Avenue. "It's supposed to last a few days. I think he sprayed it with glue. I'll probably need a shovel to get it off."

Mike tried to grab her to kiss her, but she pulled away. "I need a couple minutes to freshen up."

Then she whisked away into the bedroom and he heard her turn on a lamp and go into the bathroom.

Mike shrugged his shoulders and went over to look out the window at the Grand Army Plaza below and Fifth Avenue beyond it. The late night traffic was moving slowly downtown. Hundreds of people were out there, almost as many as in the afternoon. He thought about how his life centered around this street. Almost everything he did was on it or near it. Yesterday he'd worked down at Saks, tonight he was here at the Plaza, tomorrow he was supposed to do Shirtless at the Fifth Avenue Abercrombie store nearby. And his home was right up the street. He cringed at the thought of it, wondering if he'd ever be comfortable living there again.

He walked over to the table and picked up the small black leather purse. He zipped it open and pulled out the gun, whistled in admiration as he checked it out. It was a small silver semi-automatic pistol with pink pearlescent  grips. Very chic and expensive, and ... deadly.

Mike pulled back the slide on top to see if it was loaded. Jax probably didn't know how to use the thing. Most people didn't. And he was right. There was a bullet in the chamber. She was walking around town, dancing and twerking down at the club, with a loaded gun, ready to shoot. The clip pushed another bullet into the chamber after a shot, but so many users forgot about that, often with deadly consequences.

He put the bullet in his pocket, the gun back into the purse for now. Then he placed the purse back on the table. He'd worry about what to do with the gun tomorrow.

He heard Jax moving around in the bedroom. Then she called out to him in a lilting tone, "Heathcliff! Romeo! Come on in here."

Exasperated at her name-calling, he walked into the bedroom, totally unprepared to find her standing there completely naked, except for the rosary around her neck and the sexy spiked heels on her feet.

"Jeezus Christ!" he exclaimed.

The expression on his face caused her to burst into laughter. "Oh please. Don't bring him into the picture."

Mike stood there gaping. He hadn't seen her naked before, and she was the most perfectly beautiful girl he'd ever seen, anywhere. Even sexier and lovelier than Ronnie in her gorgeous mature prime.

Finding his voice, he said, "You already brought him into the picture wearing that rosary. He's on the damn cross. Can't you take it off?"

Jax pulled the cross from between her breasts and looked at it. She hadn't really noticed before, but the figure of the crucified Jesus Christ was on it.

"Those kidnappers took it off, but I won't. Zingara said never to take it off."

Mike shrugged. "Well, I hope he doesn't mind if I totally molest you while he's hanging right there." He took a step forward. "Because that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

Hands sexily on her hips, she laughed at him. "I doubt that God minds people getting it on when he makes them with the desire to do it. And you are not going to molest me, tough guy. I'm the one who's going to molest you."

She walked up to him and grabbed the straps of his harness and pushed him back toward the bed with such force its suddenness took his breath away. Then she shoved him hard and he fell back onto the bed, sprawled out and looking up to her, surprise and excitement in his eyes and his heart thumping in anticipation.

Jax turned and picked something up from the top of the dresser. When she faced him again, she had a leather whip stick in her hand. She was still laughing.

"You're my big fucking hunk doll tonight, Mike. And I'm gonna do with you exactly what the fuck I want. Just you try and stop me."

**

Thanks everybody for reading! I hope you are enjoying this amazing night out on the town in New York City.

Next:  VOICES IN THE NIGHT. Mike's night of thrilling love and passion turns into one of utter ... terror.