Rapid Pulse: A Limited Edition Spicy Romance Collection

by Gina Kincade

  By lunchtime she was bored and tired of waiting. Passing the desk, she remembered the envelope from the manager. August was here, as was the last month the lease was paid. She needed to decide on one of three choices. She could sign a new lease for a year, elect a month to month option which would require thirty days’ notice to move out or payment for the next month, thirty days in advance, or she could give notice and move out.

  She knew she didn’t want to commit to a year. She also knew she didn’t have an option to move out. Door number two it would be. She signed the month to month agreement and took it to the manager on the first floor with payment for September and October. He had said let him know by Monday. This was easily by Monday.

  Maggie pushed the envelope through the mail slot in the door when no one answered making a mental note to check that he got it later before heading out into the humid Chicago afternoon. She killed time on Michigan Avenue, not wanting to be too early to pick up the suit. The wait was killing her, so was window shopping.

  By three she couldn’t stay away and walked in to Custom Helotry. She was surprised to find Ava working the counter.

  “You’re early.”

  Maggie blushed. “I couldn’t wait any longer. I figured I could browse here.”

  Ava snickered pulling a garment bag from behind the counter. “No need, it’s ready.”

  As she was all but at the front door, Maggie did her best to stifle the squeal. It came out through her nose like a broken whinny from a horse. The squeal might have been better. She rushed the open end of the counter grabbing Ava in a huge hug before taking the bag.

  “You’re the best!”

  Ava waved her off. “Awe shucks love. I know. Now go make me proud.”

  Maggie fractured more than one rule of the road racing to get home. Throwing open the door she slid into the living area courtesy of an envelope that had been shoved under the jam. She’d hit it just right and skated to the back of the sectional before catching her balance.

  Her first thought was Thorne but the paper said not before she had a hand on it. Plain twenty pound was not Thorne. She latched the door and set the receipt for September and October on the island with her copy of the counter-signed month to month agreement. No need to track the manager down later.

  She ran to her room, stripping as she went. Carefully, just the way Ava had shown her, she eased into the garment. It fit like a glove would, up against her skin but not so tight to blister as she moved. She took a long look in her mother’s Cheval in the corner. It was perfect.

  Back in the living room she grabbed the Cat and tried a few throws. The suit moved well and didn’t bind her arms the way she thought it might. A latent thought soured her jovial mood. She’d not planned for footwear. The outfit lost a lot with bare feet. Rummaging her closet in her mind, she owned nothing that would work. Slipping carefully out of the suit, she hung it next to the charcoal bustier, pulled her shorts and t-shirt back on and grabbed her keys.

  Ava’s eyes were wide when she burst back through the front door less than an hour after she’d departed.

  “Back so soon?” she eyed her, “Tell me you didn’t rip it.”

  Maggie was already deflated but sunk her shoulders a little anyway. “No I didn’t rip it. Shoes Ava...SHOES! I can’t go barefoot.”

  The laughter in response filled the main room. Thankfully there was next to no one in it. Ava came around the open end still laughing.

  “Come on then, let’s find some shoes. We have a few in, but not a lot. I hope we can find something that will work or you’ll have to order.”

  Tucked beyond a rack of leather pieces was a small rack of footwear. Maybe four feet wide and five shelves total, Ava hadn’t lied. There wasn’t much. Maggie’s heart sunk.

  Ava buoyed her. “There’re more sizes in the back, we don’t have room out here for all of them. Breathe Maggie, we’ll find something.”

  Pretty much everything was black. Some were tamer than others, but most were extraordinary in one way or another. Maggie actually said a prayer as she found a style that might work hoping that they would have her size. What she wanted was not here.

  She envisioned a pair of red lace-up thigh high stilettos to match the suit. She handed Ava a pair of black, back zip, flared-knee high plain boots with a maybe three inch metal spike heel and said, “Please tell me you have nine and a half in this.”

  Ava winced but went to look. When she came back she had two boxes.

  “I have a ten. They do run tight, so maybe. Or, the only nine and a half I have is this...” She opened a box with a mid-shin boot with silver spikes around the ankle. The platform would help but the heel was easily five inches. It was Maggie’s turn to wince.

  “Neither is really what I want, but let’s try the ten.”

  Ava pursed her lips. “Let me guess...red?”

  Maggie laughed. “However did you know?”

  The ten actually didn’t feel too bad on. There was not as much extra room as there normally would be and it was almost tight at the ankle. She glanced at the other pair. “I’ll just do these, but I need to order a different pair for what I want.”

  Ava put the second pair away and came back with a book. Maggie flipped pages debating between two pairs. One was just how she envisioned them; the other had a hidden zipper. Thinking of unlacing thigh high boots, she decided on the zippered pair.

  “Do these come in red?”

  Ava giggled. “Maggie they’ll come in purple polka dot for the right money and lead time, but yes, they come in red. I have your measurements. If they have close to Wonder Woman in stock I should have them on Tuesday’s truck.”

  Maggie heaved a sigh debating if she should just wait for them and leave the others behind. The black ones weren’t bad, they just weren’t red. As the words ‘frying pan’ and ‘fire’ passed her thoughts she hedged. As the Corn Princess Pageant came to mind, she decided to work her way up.

  “I’ll take these. Order those. What’s the damage?”

  Ava rang the black pair and did a due on delivery for the red. “Let’s see how they fit first. I can easily send them back and we don’t have to mess with refunds or exchanges. I know you’ll be back for them. I’m not worried.”

  Back home with the boots Maggie put the suit on again, this time with footwear. The look wasn’t bad, just not what she wanted. She practiced with the Cat anyway to get a feel for the difference in heels. She would definitely be wearing them tomorrow to work with Wendy.

  ‘She works hard for the money...’

  Maggie spent the night walking the loft in the boots on the carpet and the linoleum. They actually had a great tread across the ball of the sole and didn’t slide around which was helpful. The heel was about average for the dress shoes she owned and tame compared to the shoes for the casino. The spike had made them look higher than they actually were. The red ones would be a different story. These were turning out to be a good choice.

  She knew she was going to be conspicuous no matter what she did. Jeans and boots in August or shorts at the club. She shot for the middle but likely missed. She tucked a pair of black yoga pants into the boots and threw on a sleeveless black v-neck. If anything, it screamed awkward. She mustered her nerve and left.

  As luck would have it, the streets were mostly dead. A band at the waterfront had the crowd. She walked in, looked around and went to the bar to ask for Wendy when she didn’t see her.

  The response was, ‘She said meet her in the long room. She’ll be a few minutes’ when the bartender hung up the house phone.

  Maggie took a few minutes to get a feel for how the boots were on the lower knap carpet before withdrawing her Cat and long tail from her bag. Wendy hustled in a few minutes later locking the door and unlocking the keypad muttering openly about ‘boys’. Maggie was pretty sure she wasn’t addressing her but checked in anyway.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  Wendy waved her off. “Not you dear. Business stuff. Flipping Sunday for crying
out loud, couldn’t wait a measly day.”

  Maggie was lost. “Can I help?”

  “Oh pish-posh. Ignore me. I should’ve done my bitching before I came in. You don’t need to hear me. Let’s get to you. You practiced yes?”

  She was nodding her head to reinforce that ‘yes’ was the right response. Maggie wanted to giggle but didn’t.

  “Yes ma’am. Practiced. Promise.”

  Wendy smiled. “You don’t need to ma’am me. No one can see in.”

  Maggie’s jaw went slack. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that...I mean, yes ma’...I mean...yes, I practiced.”

  Maggie was completely flustered and Wendy was clutching her sides laughing hard.

  “Mags, I think I love you. No one, not even Peter, has gotten nearly so frazzled around me in forever. You remind me what it means to breathe instead of just exist. This world of ours needs more vibrant young women. And by that, I mean ones who aren’t content to lie back and be told everything.” She was flagging her hands around. “Well...we need them too, but it would be damn nice if a few more decided to stand up instead. You know?”

  “I’m your huckleberry.” Maggie drawled.

  “I never had a doubt.” Wendy winked grinning wide. “Now let’s throw.”

  Getting the feel of the roll, pull, drag and return of the long tail was not nearly as easy as the Cat. There was all the extra length to wait for. Figuring out how to balance through the whole rotation was different too. Maggie was glad she had practiced or this afternoon would have been brutal.

  Fortunately, Wendy was patient. They had started early enough too that it was a couple of hours before anyone was waiting for the room. By the end, the mechanics of the action were becoming easier to coordinate. Maggie would need practice, loads of practice, but she had learned the right way to do it and could build.

  It was going on four when they called it a day. Maggie felt alive. She recoiled the tail on herself multiple times in the beginning but not once in the last half hour or so. She was nowhere near ready to use it on someone else, but that was not far off. Her Cat work was largely improved from a week ago. If she could find a way to work more with the long tail, she knew that would get better too. Wendy was chatting before Maggie was paying attention.

  “...if I’m here I mean.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I said you’re welcome to come in and work whenever you want if the room is open. I can lock it out if I’m here...”

  Maggie stopped her mental dialog and paid better attention as Wendy continued. “I’ll be in New York for a bit with another club.”

  “You have a club in New York?”

  Wendy snickered, ticking off on fingers. “Yes...And Boston, Orlando, Dallas and San Francisco. We were working on one in St. Louis but the deal hasn’t gelled yet. New York, like this one, was already here and established when we bought it. The others we started ourselves. All but New York and Chicago are The Brass Cage. Chicago as you know is The Brickhouse and New York is The Rack.”

  Maggie’s head spun. She never imagined it was a chain kind of operation.

  “So, you own all of them? Or you own this one and help whoever owns the other ones?” She was too fascinated to hold her curiosity.

  Wendy unsealed the room and unlocked the door. “Let’s get a drink, we’re holding up the room.”

  They passed through the drape, gathered drinks and retreated to a corner table before Wendy continued. “Sweetie, are you asking to be kind or because you’re asking?”

  Maggie shrugged. “I’m actually fascinated.”

  Wendy sighed, “Stop me before you start snoring okay?”

  Maggie giggled and nodded, “Sure.”

  “There are four partners who have interest in all the properties, but each property has junior partners that are at the only property they have financial interest or investment in. Peter for example is an owner here but nowhere else. He would have, or will be in the St. Louis deal if we ever get through the red tape. There is a couple who have ownership in Cali, Texas and Florida but nowhere else. Heaven forbid they can’t get a tan in December.”

  Maggie slapped her hand across her mouth to mute the laughter that bubbled up and spilled out. Wendy waved it off.

  “Go ahead and laugh, I would. I’m just too in my head about New York. I told you, we need more good upstanding women in our world.”

  Lost, Maggie interrupted, “What’s wrong with New York?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it. One of the owners decided he’s in love. Got himself all wrapped around the pinky of a gold digger a third his age who doesn’t want him hanging around any ‘half naked hussies’ who would tempt him. I have a fair mind where he met her. Pot...kettle...don’t ask. I don’t know, just suspect.” She was waving a hand as she took a drink and juggled the glass above her head for another.

  “Anyway, so he’s leaving. No great loss. He hasn’t been on property much lately anyway according to the other owner’s spy. The other owner is a whole ‘nother story. So, Clifford is leaving, but he’s an owner and he wants to be bought out. He announces all of this on the cross country this morning which gets everybody riled up.

  Those who have interest in the Southern properties want nothing to do with the Northern properties except courtesy privileges if they’re in town. The other New York owner won’t be changing his protocol to be visible at the club daily and Boston doesn’t exactly have an owner to spare between the two they have so they won’t be going down to help New York either. Which leaves the primary partners and Chicago to cover. As a primary owner who happens to be in Chicago, I’m at the top of the list. The other primary owners are tied up with the St. Louis thing anyway.”

  Maggie had pursed her lips nodding along somewhere in the middle of the recitation. “What a mess. Didn’t he have to give some kind of notice?”

  Wendy snorted loudly as her drink arrived.

  “We could hold him to his agreement. Still may actually, but it’s a headache either way. He’s getting married next weekend. After the ‘big day’ we’ll have to deal with her as well. Nothing makes a group of predominantly gay men more anxious than a woman who knows how to work a cock and balls but behaves more like a dyke. The spy says she’s a bitch on steroids but she’s figured out just how to roll Clifford. He’s a freaking puppy.

  The fear is if we wait too long, she’ll decide she wants him to keep it, but she’ll handle it for him, which would be a disaster. So, we’ll buy him out and juggle the responsibilities, which means, I may not be around as often for chunks of time for you to practice.” Wendy grinned. “See, I do remember why I was telling you all of this.”

  “I never had a doubt.”

  They clinked glasses and each took a long drink. Maggie felt bad for her whip-wielding friend and some-time teacher. What a mess. She had no use for Clifford though she’d never met him. Wanting to lighten the mood Maggie raised her glass in toast. “Here’s to jackasses and the bitches who bed them. I hope they’re happy.”

  Wendy scrambled to grab the glass she nearly tipped as she burst out laughing. “It’s official. I do love you Maggie.”

  As they wound out of the hard laughter into fits of giggles, Maggie was dismayed to see Bart walk up. It couldn’t be very late, barely past five she thought. He eyed Wendy after looking warily at Maggie.

  “Everything okay here ladies? You girls are pretty loud.”

  Wendy replied, breathy sounding from the laughter. “Oh Barty, have you met Mags?”

  “Yes, I have met Maggie.” He eyed her hard as he responded.

  “She is simply too much. Oh, and I love her, so mitts off my whipping friend here.”

  Bart’s eyebrows raised high as he glanced between them.

  “I was going to check a new club later. I was wondering if you and Peter wanted to join me?”

  Wendy was laugh-sober quick. “Oh. Uhhhm, I don’t think I can. Peter you’d have to ask.” She looped her arm around Maggie’s shoulder. “Take Mags here.”

&
nbsp; She turned to Margaret, “You’re not busy are you?”

  Maggie looked at Wendy and then to Bart who seemed to be just as confused as she felt though he buried it better under his squint.

  “Uhhhh, no?”

  Wendy’s hand came down, slapping the table next to Bart’s forearm. Maggie flinched. Bart didn’t. “There you go. You kids have fun.”

  Bart put his hand through his hair and scratched hard looking at Maggie trying to figure out what had happened. “We’re going to a club called The Back Door, do you know it?”

  Maggie’s mouth threatened to drop open and hang. She shook her head no not trusting her voice.

  He puffed his cheeks up before blowing out a forceful exhale. “Yeah, well you can’t wear that.” He motioned to her outfit. “You’re going to need something a little more hard-core. And uh...” he sneered the last part, “not the other outfit I saw you in either.”

  His veiled message was loud and clear though went right over Wendy. Luckily, she had just the outfit.

  “Can you be back here by ten?”

  Was she seriously going to do this? She had multiple thoughts colliding as she nodded her head that she’d be back. Guess we know the answer to that question. There was something just beneath the obvious that she was missing. She’d find it.

  Wendy clapped. “Excellent! Then Maggie can be me tonight. You’ll still need to ask Peter, or take Ryan; he loves this sort of adventure.”

  Wendy jumped up and ran to the phone at the bar, made a call and came back. “There’s a lot behind the building Mags. Use this code to get in and park in seventeen, same code on the door at the back. I appreciate you going for me.” She handed Maggie a piece of paper with a six digit code for the security panels. “I need to run. I’ll see you both tonight.”

  Maggie looked at Bart. “What the heck?”

  He was wearing his perplexed face complete with the squint as he watched Wendy scuttle away. “I have no idea. I would have guessed estrogen, but then maybe you would have known. You don’t know? Guess we’re both SOL.”