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by angelaw

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  My Fishnet Fetish

  ISBN 9781419919749

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  My Fishnet Fetish Copyright © 2009 Sahara Kelly

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication March 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  MY FISHNET FETISH

  Sahara Kelly

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Godzilla: Toho Co., Ltd

  My Fishnet Fetish

  Chapter One

  “They’re at it again.”

  “Who?”

  “At what?”

  Nadine Summers leaned over her drafting table and peered out of her window.

  “Those guys I told you about.”

  There was a moment or two of silence from her computer as her two best friends, Fenella Whitfield and Dee Jackson, chewed over the information. They were linked by Nadine’s webcam since she had a deadline and couldn’t make their wine-and-nibbles evening. Didn’t mean they couldn’t talk, though—thanks to technology. It probably hadn’t been designed with girl-gossip in mind but it worked very nicely for the three of them. On this particular night anyway.

  “I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything silly, Dini.” Fenny’s Boston-proper tones came over the speaker, mixed with a hint of worry.

  “Yeah. Like mistaking yourself for Steampunk Suzie, grabbing an empty beer bottle or something and going down there to straighten ‘em out.” Dee’s throaty chuckle followed. “You draw Suzie, honey. She’s got fifty pounds and a helluva lot more muscle on her than you do.”

  Dini kept her gaze on the activities outside. “Don’t worry girls. Much as I’d like to go get a closer look, I’m not a total idiot.” She sighed. “Just half a one. What I wouldn’t give for a real big rifle with a night scope on it.”

  “Sweetie, give it to your heroines in your books. Let Suzie play with it in your next cartoon strip. Don’t cross the fantasy-reality line, okay?” 5

  Sahara Kelly

  Dini giggled and dragged her eyes away from the street. “Only in my work, Fenny.

  But I reckon I might well have been born in the wrong time or something.” She leaned her head on her hand and stared absently at the nearly completed drawing on her work table. “Can you imagine how great it would be to actually man a ray gun and blast a wicked alien ship into smithereens around some poor desperate planet?”

  “Shouldn’t that be woman a ray gun?”

  “Is ray gun all one word, or hyphenated?” Dini waved off the questions. “Shhh.” Her attention was back on the white van below her on the quiet street. “I swear they’re dealing crack or something.”

  “Frickin’ Christ, Dini.” Dee sounded exasperated. “Did you call the cops?”

  “Went one better, Dee.” Dini squinted into the darkness. “I dropped by the South Street Precinct and actually filed a report. An honest-to-God real report.” She chuckled.

  “If nothing else, it was good for research.”

  Fenny’s sigh of relief was quite clear. “Thank the good Lord you’re a smart woman, honey. For right now, you just stay put, make notes if you must, but let the authorities handle it, okay?”

  “Yeah. What she said.” Dee added her mite around a mouthful of something crunchy. “Although I swear I’d put my money on you, Dini, if it came to a blow-by-blow.”

  “Don’t see anyone down there I’d be interested in blowing.” Dini’s chuckle was wicked.

  “Uh-oh. Sounds like you got your mind on sex. Suzie’s about to get laid.”

  “She just did, Dee. Gotta have her smiling at least once an episode.” Dini looked down again at the colorful drawing of a full-breasted woman reclining nude on a red velvet couch. It spread over the whole of her drawing board and was ringed with assorted pens, pencils, paints and a messy stack of overlays.

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  “She’s stark naked and happy. And I kept her boots on this time. Rather a nice erotic touch, I think.” She studied the drawing dispassionately. “Yeah. High-heeled, leather, lace-up boots and nothing else. It works.”

  “Your fans are gonna eat that up, Dini. No question.” Fenny sounded certain.

  “Since the majority of them are horny teenage boys, you’re probably right.” Dini chuckled. “Well, better they jerk off with Steampunk Suzie than some of those icky teen slut websites. At least Suzie’s got a personality and a goal in life.” She paused. “Along with the requisite full breasts and shaved pussy, of course.” She grabbed a pen and added a speck more detail to that particular body part.

  “Yeah. About that…” Dee’s voice filled the room.

  “Dee. Shut up.” Fenny’s usually calm tones sounded a little stressed.

  Dini blinked. “Fenny? You didn’t!”

  “She did.” That was Dee, gleeful and wicked. “I haven’t seen it, since she refuses to show me, but the fidget’s there. That little wiggle now and again that says I’ve had a Brazilian wax job and I don’t know if I’m horny or itchy.” Fenny’s howl was a thing of beauty to Dini’s ears. She loved it when Fenny lost her composure. There was something reassuring about it. Sisters under the skin, as it were.

  She glanced at her screen to see Fenny throwing a pillow at Dee, then moving close to the webcam, filling it with blonde hair and blushing cheeks. “Whether I choose to get my pubes waxed or not shouldn’t be a subject for discussion. No, I’m not showing Dee because that’s…well, that’s just wrong on so many levels.” She paused for breath. “And it hurt like a motherfucking sonovabitch.” All three women were silent for a second or two, then the laughter began. Dini laughed so hard she had to move away from her drawing or get splashes as the tears ran down her cheeks onto the paper.

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  Sahara Kelly

  “You guys just slay me. I love you both,” Dini rasped hoarsely, heaving in breaths as she giggled all over again. “Damn this deadline. I gotta go or I’m still not going to get it done. You’re too distracting.”

  “Miss you, sweetie.” Fenny sounded sad. “Sorry you can’t be here, but we’ll pick a better time next week, okay?”

  “Absolutely right, babe.” That was Dee. “You finish what you gotta do. We understand, honest. Friends are always here. Deadlines come and go.” She grinned.

  “Just make sure Suzie gets fucked really good, okay?
Maybe her mom should go get a little herself?”

  Dini snorted. “Yeah. Like I have time for that right now.”

  “You never know, Dini. You never know.” Fenny winked. “You take care and we’ll talk soon. Bye.”

  “Bye, toots.” The irrepressible Dee nudged Fenny out of the way. “Keep thinking positive. And wear that corset next time you go out. If that doesn’t get you any action, hell—I give up. Bye for now.”

  The screen darkened as her two friends disconnected their webcam, leaving Dini with the echoes of laughter and the warmth of knowing she had two such great friends.

  She turned back to her work, deftly filling in the remaining colors, adding the few touches that made Steampunk Suzie unique—and popular. It was a blessing in disguise, a casual conversation with one of the college nerds who haunted the coffee shops of Cambridge, an invitation to submit something for their latest web endeavor—and before Dini knew it, Steampunk Suzie was the rage of the Internet.

  And bringing a hefty chunk of change along with her, thank God. Dini couldn’t see herself as an administrative assistant. Her typing skills were erratic at best, she didn’t function well early in the morning and her choice of attire was hardly appropriate for some office environment.

  She grinned as she glanced down at herself. She was trying out a new corset tonight, something she was thinking of putting on Suzie in her next adventure. Deep 8

  My Fishnet Fetish

  purple with lots of sequins, it sparkled like crazy in the light of her desk lamp. There was a long sort of black lace frill at the bottom that barely covered her tiny matching thong. She’d thrown on black fishnet tights and her favorite grungy boots, finishing it off with a big pair of purple wings leftover from last Halloween and pointy fake elf ears. Fantasy meets erotica with a dash of magic.

  Kinda like something she’d imagined as a cross between a strip show and Lord of the Rings. Hobbit Hooters maybe.

  Suzie was going to wreak havoc in Fairyland for her next adventure and maybe get into a little bondage action. Dini believed in doing her research. At least when it came to visuals for her comic strip. For her I.M. Blue novels—well, the research was in books filled with cosmological theories, the Internet and her dreams. Sadly, nobody was hiring a freelance mercenary gunner for a small attack shuttle traversing the vastness of space toward Alpha Centauri.

  Still, in spite of science’s utter failure to keep pace with Dini’s imagination, she’d finished her latest novel and sent it in to her editor last week. And now—she signed the drawing in front of her with a flourish—Steampunk Suzie was all set to enjoy another adventure and bring thousands of teenage boys some sort of vicarious satisfaction.

  Leaning back, Dini stretched her arms high, enjoying the rasp of the corset across her nipples. God, she could use some satisfaction herself. It had been months since her last “night of delight”, a phrase she used to describe the occasional dalliances that ended in bed.

  They never went any further, of course. Nope. One night only. Dini considered herself a star in that regard. She never repeated her performance. Diva Dini rule number One. And mostly that was okay. She wasn’t going to invite a guy over for more than sex. He wanted anything else, well go find somebody else.

  Was she a user? Maybe. She worried about it occasionally. But then the small photo on the wall reminded her what could happen if one gave away more than just a few hours of physical pleasure.

  9

  Sahara Kelly

  Dini sighed and eased off her stool, leaning from side to side and unkinking a few of the knots brought on by a couple of hours leaning over her drafting table. Unbidden, her gaze drifted to that same photo, black and white, mounted in a plain silver frame and hanging inconspicuously to one side of her workspace.

  Alan.

  Lieutenant Alan Summers. How young he looked to her now. He would always look that young. He’d never age, never wrinkle or lose his hair or develop a paunch.

  He’d always be the young officer who swept her off her feet, who took her into the world of military wives and who she’d loved beyond reason for barely more than a year.

  As always, Dini turned away from the photo with a smile. She’d promised herself she’d remember the good things. Dwell on his laughter and his charm, not the—other things.

  Alan was gone and nothing she could do would ever bring him back. He’d been a gift to her, she’d decided. A gift that was so special she hadn’t been permitted to keep him for very long. And she had also promised herself never to accept a gift like that again, since losing it was… unspeakable agony.

  She was very fortunate in her life, right now. The addition of Fenny and Dee to her tiny social circle had enriched it. Suzie was going gangbusters, I.M. Blue was comfortably settled in the midlist and showed no signs of slumping.

  Yep. For Nadine Summers, aka I.M. Blue and Steampunk Suzie’s mom, all was good overall, except for one irritating damn thing—her fucking toilet was on the fritz again.

  Stalking across her living space toward the bathroom, Dini hissed with annoyance and ended up staring at the offending porcelain contraption.

  “Listen, you.” She jiggled the handle. “You’re pissing me off. You can be replaced, you know.”

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  My Fishnet Fetish

  The contents continued to trickle in an annoying plumbing version of a Chinese water torture.

  “I’ve called a plumber. It’ll serve you right if he guts you to your ballcock.” Threats seemed ineffective, even when Dini ran a hand through her spiky blonde hair, yanked her corset into place, shook her wings and muttered what she hoped was an incantation or a prayer to the Flushing Functions deities.

  Her plea was answered by a loud knock at her door.

  “Oh thank God. The plumber at last.” She glared one last time at her toilet. “I warned you.”

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  Sahara Kelly

  Chapter Two

  Detective Jonas Smith needed a beer. Or maybe even two. It had been a long shift and he’d only taken this follow-up call as a favor to a buddy whose wife was sick. But that’s what cops did for each other—cover their backs.

  He’d got more than ten years in on the force, five of them here in Cambridge. He loved his job most of the time, hated it occasionally and now and again it overwhelmed him. But mostly he was content with his life. He had girlfriends, women who were just friends and one or two fuck buddies just for fun. He knew he wasn’t hideous, enjoyed female companionship but kept it casual. He wasn’t ready for the “C” word—

  commitment. A few of these thoughts drifted absently through his mind as he waited for the door to open.

  It was probably going to be some nosy biddy with nothing better to do than spy on her neighbors. She’d seen someone moving in a new TV and thought they were stealing, or more cars than usual and figured somebody’d set up a whorehouse across the street. He liked public involvement in crime prevention, but sometimes it brought out the crazies.

  All part of the job. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen and very little left that could surprise him.

  So when the door opened, Detective Jonas Smith was not prepared for what he saw.

  And he did something he hadn’t done in quite some time.

  He lost his breath.

  She was a vision from every man’s fantasy—petite, blonde, soft hair haloing her head in the backlight from the room behind her. She was wrapped in some sparkly purple stuff that barely covered the tips of her small breasts where they were pushed up into a cleavage he’d like to lick for an hour or two.

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  My Fishnet Fetish

  The rest of her was even better. A lacy something drifted over the tops of her thighs, and her legs—oh dear God in Heaven—they were encased in fishnet tights. Jonas felt his cock stiffen at the sight of one of his favorite erotic dreams.

  With difficulty he dragged his gaze back to her face, absorbing the sight of purple wings and pointed ears. Okay. He needed more than two
beers. He needed a vacation.

  She was staring at him too, with a flicker of interest in those unusual grey eyes.

  However, her first words weren’t quite what he’d expected.

  “About time. The toilet’s through there.” She nodded over her shoulder and held the door wide.

  Jonas blinked. “Thank you, but I don’t have to go.” She obviously didn’t listen. “The water won’t stop running, no matter what I do.

  I’ve jiggled and twisted and tapped. Nothing worked. So every night I gotta turn it off with that valve thing underneath.”

  Jonas stepped back, pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and compared the apartment number to the one he was supposed to be visiting. Yeah, he’d got the number right, but she’d gotten his number wrong, apparently.

  He sighed. “I seem to have stumbled into the sexed-up branch of fairyland here.

  Forgive me but I left my magic wand in my other pants.” To his astonishment, her lips twisted into a wonderfully wicked grin as she dropped her gaze to his crotch. “Pity.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. He was getting a hard-on. With difficulty he recalled himself to business. “I’m looking for a Nadine Summers?” Sex-Pixie tilted her head to one side and frowned. “That’d be me.” She looked down to the floor beside his feet as if checking for something, chewed her bottom lip and then looked back up. “You’re probably not the plumber, then, are you? He just wants to know where the leak is.”

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  Jonas shook his head and reached into his back pocket for his ID. “Detective Jonas Smith. I’m following up on that report you filed down at the South Street precinct.” She raised her eyebrows. “Well damn. Color me surprised. You’d better come in then.” She closed the door behind him. “Gotta tell you I wasn’t expecting such prompt action. Or any action at all, to be honest.”