Undeniably His: Bliss Series, Book Five

by Hall, Deanndra

  My clicker doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, and I accidentally set off the panic alarm on my car before I get the door open and slip behind the wheel. The air around me has grown too thick and heavy to breathe, and I’m gasping by the time I stick the key in the ignition, but as soon as the motor turns over, I realize I can’t drive. I can barely see. There’s something in my eyes, and I reach up to rub them.

  Tears. That’s the moment when I fall apart. I’m too old. I’ve lost my job because I’m too old to be sexy and desirable. That’s why no Dominant wants me. That’s why I’m alone. Because I’m just too old and nobody wants me. I hadn’t realized until just now how much of my self-esteem has been tied to this job, and now I have neither self-esteem nor the job. What the hell am I supposed to do?

  Who am I?

  I don’t know what to do. Crawling in a hole and dying sounds like a good plan. The interstate bridge is looking like a perfect prospect for a jumping-off place when my phone rings. Without even looking at it, I pick it up and whisper, “Hello?”

  “Hey! Just wanted to remind you about the orientation Thursday night if you’re still free to help me.” I try to speak, but I can’t. “Melina? You there?”

  My mouth doesn’t want to form words. “Bri … Brian, um, I …”

  “Melina? Is something wrong? Melina? Talk to me! What’s wrong?” he’s shouting into the phone.

  “I, um, I lost my job.”

  “What? What happened?”

  “They said I’m …” I can’t say the words. I just can’t.

  “They said you’re what?” he barks.

  “They said I’m … I’m too old!” I wail and just fall apart.

  “They … They said WHAT? Oh, no. You need to get an attorney. Right now.” When I don’t respond, he yells, “MELINA! Go to Dave’s! Right now! Go!”

  “What?”

  “Go. To. Dave’s. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Go right now. And be careful, honey, please? Go straight there, Melina. Please?”

  “Okay. Okay, I will. I should call …”

  “No. Go right now. Don’t worry about calling. I’ll meet you there. Go on, honey, and drive carefully.”

  “Ohhhh-kay. Um, okay,” I sob out.

  “I’m hanging up now. You shouldn’t drive and talk on the phone. I’ll see you there. Melina, promise me I’ll see you there,” he says, his voice forceful.

  “You’ll see me there, Brian. I promise. Bye.” I try to start my car again but grind the starter because I forgot it’s already running. I should call Dave, but I’m not sure I can use the phone, so I just slip my car into gear and pull out of the parking lot. On the way out I sideswipe a trash can, but I really don’t care. Nothing matters.

  It takes me forever to get there because I keep forgetting where I’m supposed to be going and have to double back. And then I forget again. My brain is an absolute minefield of horrible thoughts. A car I’m pretty sure is Brian’s is there when I pull up in front of the little cottage, and getting out of my car seems a little too hard. And then the car door opens and a pair of arms drag me up and out, holding me tight while I sob and cling to him. Dave. Right now I just want him to drop me and stomp on me until I’m dead. I don’t want to talk, and I don’t want to live. I just want to die.

  By the time we get to the door, Brian is there, holding it open, his face an anxious mess. Next thing I know, I’m sitting on the sofa, Brian on one side and Dave on the other, and there’s someone leaning down in front of me. Olivia. She’s giving me tea. How nice. I don’t want it, but I can’t turn it down. Tea. That’s what little old ladies drink, right? How appropriate.

  “Tell me what they said to you, baby. What did they say?” Dave asks.

  I just shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t say the words.”

  “Did they really say you’re too old?” Brian asks, and the minute the words are out, I wish he’d never said them. That makes it far too real.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I announce.

  “Oh, no. We’re going to talk about it,” Dave informs me, and when Dave makes a pronouncement like that, he means business.

  “But I don’t want to,” I reemphasize.

  “We have to. And I just want to say this out loud. They’re full of bullshit, Melina. Total bullshit. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. You’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, yeah? Then why have I been in that club all these years and nobody wants to collar me? All the times I’ve gone through The Pairing and my Doms have left me stranded and humiliated on the stage? Yeah, the beautiful porn queen, getting fucked all day every day and sleeping alone at night. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fucking awesome,” I mutter, angry and hurt and sad.

  “They haven’t collared you because they’re not the one you’re waiting for, sweetie,” Dave says.

  “Right. So let me ask you this: We’ve scened together hundreds of times, and you never offered to collar me. Why is that?” I ask Dave. “If I’m all that wonderful, why not?”

  “Honey, I had no intention of ever collaring anyone. I mean, I haven’t collared Olivia. Our relationship isn’t like that at all. And she took me completely by surprise, and when I say completely, I mean completely,” he says in way of explanation, and I know all of that to be true. “If I had been in the market, you would’ve been at the top of my list, Melina. After Marta, I didn’t want to ever be in a long-term relationship again, but if I had, I would’ve picked you hands down.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No! I’m not! I mean it. Of all the women I know, you’re the only one I could’ve ever seen myself spending any long amount of time with. You’re the only one I knew who I was sure wouldn’t drive me crazy on a long weekend. Why those other guys haven’t seen that, I have no clue, but I have. If you’ll just be open to it, you’re going to find someone eventually.”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Dave’s right. You just need to be open to it. But I think we have more pressing business now. You need a good attorney,” Brian says.

  “No. I need to just forget about it.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” I insist. “They’re right. I’m too old.”

  “Damn it, Melina, don’t say that about yourself!” Brian shouts at me and I jump a little. “I mean it! That’s ridiculous.”

  I pat his hand like he’s the offended party. “Just let it go, Brian. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Like what? What are you going to do?” he asks.

  All I’ve got is a shrug. “I have no idea. I figure I’ve got a few weeks to come up with a plan. I have a little money. I’m paid up eight months ahead on my lease, my car is paid for, and I’ve got money in the bank. I’ll eventually have to find something, but I’ve got a little time.”

  “You can work part time for me,” Brian offers. “I can always use help.”

  “No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “The first time some corporate client came to town to look at a piece of property and was met by a porn star, you’d lose the business.” He starts to say something, but before he can I say, “And yes, they’d recognize me. I guarantee they would. Speaking of which, I need to change my hairstyle and color in the next few days so I can blend into society. Don’t know what I’ll do about these though,” I say, lifting and pressing together the twins on my chest. “They’re kinda obvious.”

  “Are you just giving up? Because I don’t think you should just give up,” Dave says.

  “No. I’m not giving up. I’m being realistic. That part of my life is over.” And that’s when it hits me.

  I’ve never had another job. I’ve never worked in any other way. I started doing porn flicks as soon as I got out of high school and that’s all I’ve ever done. I don’t know how to use a cash register, or run a commercial dishwasher, or stock a shelf. I only know a few things. One of them is fucking. The other is adult products and fashion, as in sexpot fashion. I don’t real
ly know anything else.

  So what the hell am I supposed to do?

  * * *

  Dave wanted me to stay overnight with them, but I just couldn’t. I love Olivia and Nadine, but being around a baby when I’m this depressed isn’t really good for me. I insist on going home.

  Two hours later, my doorbell rang and Cirilla was there with frozen dinners, enough to keep me going until Thursday night. She said Brian is going to feed me after orientation, which I’d totally forgotten about. She sat with me a little while and tried to get me to talk, but I just couldn’t.

  It’s Wednesday afternoon and I haven’t been out of the condo since I came home on Monday. I’m sitting on the sofa, staring at the TV, when somebody rings the bell. The surprise I feel when I look through the peephole is second only to the joy that fills me.

  Cassie and Darlene are standing there. Darlene’s got this huge rolling suitcase, and Cassie’s got two totes over her shoulders. “What are you guys doing here?” I ask, breathless.

  “We heard you need a new look. Let’s get started, shall we?” Darlene says with a laugh. “I know you well enough to know what your natural color is, you bleach blond bimbo! I think that’s where you need to go, and we’ll do highlights with it, maybe red ones. Whaddya think?” she’s asking as she barges in and starts pulling things out of that suitcase.

  “And I brought everything we need for a mani and pedi. You’ll look great in a couple of hours,” Cassie says, laying out supplies.

  “You guys, I don’t know―”

  “Yes,” Darlene says. “We won’t take no for an answer. You need this, and we want to help. And you’re right. You need to shed that look and start fresh.”

  Ten minutes later, I’m covered in a drape and have my feet in a swirling footbath. I still can’t believe they’re doing this, but I guess I have friends I didn’t realize I had. We’re chattering along when Cassie says, “So what are you going to do now?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. I don’t know how to do anything.”

  “Oh, that’s not true,” Darlene corrects. “You’ve gotta know how to do something else. Where did you get all those cute things you wore on set?”

  “From a little shop. Frills ‘n Thrills. Adult store here in town, privately owned, not a chain place.”

  “Uh-huh. Think they might have an opening?” Cassie asks.

  The adult store. Why didn’t I think of that? I know Frieda pretty well. Maybe she’d give me a chance. Worst thing she can do is tell me no. Otherwise, what do I have to lose? “I should check. Thanks! I never thought of that.”

  Darlene gives me a big smile. “I bet she’ll snap you up. Now let’s get started.”

  Two and a half hours later, I look in the mirror and I’m shocked. I thought going back to my natural color would make me look old, but it has the exact opposite effect. My features look softer under the warm walnut brown, and the reddish highlights give me a glow I didn’t have before. Instead of the usual neon stuff, Cassie did a pretty frosty pink on my toenails and fingernails, and it really gives my hands a lift. I needed this. As I stand there, admiring their work, another revelation hits.

  I’m not in the business anymore. I don’t have to wear skin-tight clothes, stiletto heels, and skimpy underwear. I can actually wear comfortable things, and I make up my mind I’m going shopping. I deserve some athletic shoes, some tops that are a little loose, some underclothes that aren’t binding or riding up or cutting into my shoulders. Hell, I can actually wear socks if I want to! And flats! And a cardigan instead of a leather jacket! Hey, this whole thing could have a huge plus side!

  When they’re done, I decide to try something. I go into the bathroom and start doing my makeup, but I decide to take a “less is more” approach. It’s amazing what happens.

  I look like a regular person, not some made-up sexpot. I don’t have to wear quarter-inch-wide eyeliner! Or fake eyelashes! Or wild-colored eyeshadow! This is ridiculously cool. My “getting ready” time just got cut by about an hour.

  That’s the moment I decide. It takes me ten minutes to shower without washing my hair, since it’s freshly colored, and I throw on the only pair of comfortable jeans I have, a tee-shirt a date left behind one time, and a pair of slip-on deck shoes, and grab my keys. In five minutes, I’m in the parking lot of Frills ‘n Thrills and I step inside. I hear a voice say, “Be right with you!” and I stand at the counter, waiting.

  “Hi! Can I help you with something?” Frieda asks, and I almost burst out laughing. She doesn’t recognize me!

  “Um, yeah, Frieda. What do you think?” I ask as I hold my palms up and twirl.

  She stares for almost a full minute before her eyes go wide and she blurts out, “Melina? Is that you?”

  “Yup!” Now I can laugh. Couldn’t keep from it if I wanted to. She’s staring, jaw dropped, and I’m laughing aloud. “It’s me! Got a minute?”

  “For you, baby, of course,” she says and points toward the back. I follow her and when we get to her little office, she points to the door for me to close it. I sit down across the desk from her and she asks, “What’s up?”

  “I got fired.”

  “You WHAT? Why in the hell did you get fired?” she shrieks.

  “They told me I’m too old,” I explain.

  “What? Those sons of bitches! Those god damn motherfucking sons of bitches! They said that to you?” I nod. It does my heart good to hear this little shrived-up old lady cussing like a sailor on my behalf. “Well, that’s not right. That’s not right at all. What can I do to help?”

  “I thought maybe I could help you,” I say, but I can see she doesn’t get it. “I mean, do you need help? Like in, do you have any job openings?”

  “For you, baby? Of course I do! I’ll make one! When do you want to start?”

  “Could it possibly be next week? I need to get some comfortable work clothes and shoes first.”

  She nods. “Of course. I’ll get you a name tag made.”

  “Um, about that. Is there any way I could have a name tag that says Mary? I really don’t want customers to know who I am, if you catch my drift.” I’d thought about this on the way over, and I really think it’s the right thing to do.

  “Oh, honey, yes. I think that’s probably a good idea on your part. After all, that’s not a really common name, Melina. So I’ll do that. Want to start Monday? When we open at ten o’clock?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much. This is kind of exciting!” I tell her, all smiles.

  “Ever worked a register?” I shake my head. “No problem. It’ll take you about three minutes to figure it out. And I’m glad you came to me. Let’s show those bastards a thing or two about how ladies of a certain age can handle themselves!” she says with a laugh.

  “Yeah. Bastards,” I say in agreement.

  “I still can’t believe they said that to you. Oh, well, we’ll show them.” She stands and extends her hand, but after I’ve taken it, she says, “Oh, fuck that shit!” and heads around the desk to hug me. Somebody does want me.

  Take that, you sons of bitches. Melina Roberts has a job.

  * * *

  When I get home, I call Trish, Sheila, Olivia, and Cirilla. I’m hoping they can go shopping with me. Olivia begs off because Nadine has a cold, but the other three jump at the chance. We hit two of my favorite stores, but not before they’ve oohed and ahhed over my hair and makeup for ten minutes. It’s kinda nice, really.

  I come back with cute shorts and capris, a couple of lightweight sweaters, skinny jeans, some little platform sandals and some sling back wedges, and some very, very cute tops, plus a couple of classy dresses, not overly dressy, just nice and casual. Not at all what I would’ve bought before. I also wind up with some sturdy, functional bras. The twins are still incredible but they’re not quite so, um, prominent. The whole wardrobe is different from my usual. Instead of being designed to scream, Hey, look at me! it’s all designed to say, Hey, I’m just like you. That’s what I was going for, and I t
hink I succeeded.

  We stop at one of the local restaurants to have a drink and order some appetizers, and for the first time, I feel like I’ve got girlfriends. It’s not that they never treated me this way before. I suppose it’s that I never felt like I could do girlfriend stuff. It was best if I kept a low profile. Now I don’t have to do that anymore.

  By the time I get home, it’s bedtime and I’m pooped, but when I crawl into bed, I lie there, stare at the ceiling, and count my blessings for the day. I have a new look, new clothes, and a new job. No, it won’t pay what my old one did, but I also won’t be doing what I did before. It suddenly occurs to me that now, when I have sex, it will probably mean something to me. It won’t be like an extension of my job. It shouldn’t have before, but let’s face it―if you fuck for a living, then anytime you fuck, you feel like you’re at work. Truth.

  Tomorrow will be a new day. There’s orientation for the new Doms tomorrow night, and then I’ll have a long weekend before I start work on Monday. I have a new life, and I have real friends for the first time. I’m just like a regular person. I am a regular person. And it feels good.

  * * *

  When I get up the next morning, I get a big surprise. I’ve been up maybe ten minutes and somebody rings my doorbell. I open it to find a guy standing there with a bag, and it turns out to be a full breakfast from one of the diners there in town, complete with a note.

  Congratulations on your new life, Melina!

  Love,

  Dave, Olivia, and Nadine

  That calls for a thank-you note. I’d always counted Dave as a friend, but now I have Olivia too, and the rest of the girls. The thought makes me smile all the way to the shower.