Kinky Claus

by Jodi Redford

  Marissa blinked. “Yes. Why?”

  “For starters, you haven’t acted this mopey since you learned the McHottie was a fan of the sausage McMuffin,” Jane supplied.

  It took Marissa a second to grasp Jane’s meaning. She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks for putting that image in my head.”

  “I’m telling ya, you should have asked him if he was into threesomes. Talk about a wasted opportunity.” Jane sighed and crumpled her napkin before dropping it next to her plate. “I hope to God your current moodiness isn’t because of him.”

  Sid speared Jane with a reproving look.

  “Come on, don’t pretend like you don’t agree with me.” Jane tossed up her hands in exasperation. She scooted her chair sideways, clonking its metal feet on the floor. She wrapped her arm around Marissa’s waist and squeezed. “I say this with nothing but love. When it comes to OCD and men, you have a fucking PHD, sweets.”

  Marissa glared at her friend. “You should talk.”

  Sid pointed her fork at Jane. “She’s got your number there, Toots.”

  “No, the difference is I fuck a man before he fucks me over.” Jane adopted a bored expression. “It’s called having the upper hand and always being a step ahead of their games.”

  “Spoken like a true jaded cynic.” Sid shook her head. “You can’t lump all men together. Sure, there are some assholes out there—not all of them of the male variety, by the way—but there are plenty of guys who aren’t douche bags looking to take advantage of women.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll bet ya that accounts for approximately one percent of the men in this room.” Jane leaned back in her seat and scoped the nearby tables in the cafeteria. “Maybe less.”

  “Leo and Dev aren’t that way.” Sid twitched her nose when Jane started to open her mouth. “Yes, I know they’re not down here, so don’t even say it.”

  Marissa’s mind traveled to her conversation with Trig last night. Despite his confession of wanting her he was willing to keep things strictly professional to protect their friendship. If that didn’t make him the complete opposite of the King of Douches, nothing would. She couldn’t point that out to Jane though without opening a giant can of worms. Instead she settled for blurting out the only other name she could conjure at the moment. “Jack. He’s a decent guy.”

  Jane’s chair righted with a jarring clank. Her posture as rigid as her features, she narrowed her eyes. “Are you shittin’ me right now?”

  “No.” Marissa calmly folded her hands in her lap. “I know things didn’t work out for you two, but should that automatically make him an asshole?”

  “Considering the manner in which he dumped me, yes.” Jane’s eyes glittered with an inner fire. “That man is the living definition of prick. And I don’t mean that in the good sense. I bet that’s why his wife left him. His outstanding asshattery probably became too much to take.”

  “That’s not fair. We don’t know anything about his marriage,” Marissa pointed out.

  “And that’s another thing!” Smoke practically funneled from the top of Jane’s head as she banged the table edge with her fist, making the utensils rattle. “The man never talked about his wife. Not once. What divorcee doesn’t backstab their ex with petty innuendoes of frigidness or erectile dysfunction? It’s fucking shady.”

  Sid gusted an exasperated breath. “Maybe he’s one of those rare individuals who don’t bad mouth or complain about their bad relationships.”

  Jane ignored Sid’s wry stare and instead continued with her Grumpy Cat impersonation. “I don’t think he would have even told me he had a kid if I hadn’t seen the picture in his wallet.”

  “Which you found via snooping,” Sid said dryly.

  “Hell yes. Thank Jesus I am a raging sneak, otherwise I wouldn’t know shit. Not that I do anyway with him. He could be a fucking drug dealer for all I know. Or a closet cross-dresser.” She shuddered. “A vegan even.”

  Marissa slid a glance in Sidney’s direction and noticed that her friend was trying just as desperately not to laugh. Sometimes Jane’s level of ridiculousness topped any chart known to mankind. Today she was obviously in fine form. Then again, Jack tended to bring out the limited edition crazy sauce Jane reserved for special occasions and office parties.

  Bottom line, she was wasting her breath trying to make Jane acknowledge that not all men were players with nefarious intensions. Especially when it came to Jack Brewster. “I don’t know why we went off on this weird tangent. How about if we talk about something else?”

  Jane shifted slightly to the right and continued to silently sulk, so Marissa sent Sidney a pleading look. Taking the bait, Sid cleared her throat. “Getting excited for your party tomorrow night?”

  Oh Lord. Not the direction she’d wanted to steer the conversation. “Um, sure. I guess.”

  “You don’t have to go by yourself, you know,” Sidney offered gently. “It isn’t like I’m tied to Leo and Dev every second of the day.”

  “The Kink Geeks likely wouldn’t be against that idea though,” Jane muttered.

  Sid’s lips twitched. “Yeah, probably not. But my offer still stands.”

  “And I appreciate it, but I’m fine going alone. Really.” She’d never blatantly lied to her best friends before all of this. She had no choice but to do it, but that fact didn’t lessen the twinge of guilt that insisted on bulleting through her.

  Jane turned to face them, officially dismantling the invisible sanctum of sulkiness she’d built seconds prior. She thrust a finger towards Marissa’s face. “Just come clean and say you’ve got some guy on the side and you’re too ashamed of us to introduce him.”

  Oh, that was low. Even for Jane. Clearly she’d stoop to any level in her quest for information.

  Sidney grunted. “If I was Marissa I wouldn’t introduce you either. You’d probably flash your hoohah and call him a cross-dressing vegan.”

  Marissa choked on a cough.

  “Nah.” Jane plopped her chin in her hand. “Maybe a cross-dressing vegetarian though. Best to initially lull them into a false sense of security before bringing out the big insults.”

  Time to rudder this ship onto a different course before it sank faster than the Titanic. “There is no guy. End of story.”

  Jane and Sidney stared at her intently. Oh crap. She’d been a little too vehement with her denial, and now their suspicions were really stirred up. She mentally dragged in a steadying breath and counted to ten. The only way out of this was to patch her lies with some truth. She was already in over her head, might as well paddle all the way into the deep end of the pool. “Okay, I am going with someone. I... hired him.”

  Sid frowned. “I don’t understand. What exactly do you mean by paid?”

  “You know.” Marissa gestured vaguely.

  “Actually, no. Explain please.” Sid gave her a patient look.

  Might as well spit it out fast. Kind of like ripping a band aid off without overthinking how much it would hurt. “I hired him through an escort service.”

  A pregnant silence shrouded the table while her friends gaped at her. Jane was the first to break from her trance. “No way. You paid for a gigolo?”

  Marissa winced. “Want to broadcast that over the PA system? I’m pretty sure that table all the way in the back didn’t hear you.”

  Jane waved her hand dismissively. “Fuck ‘em. Why didn’t you say something before now?”

  “Because I figured you’d act exactly like this.” Marissa hunched her shoulders. “Look, it’s just a onetime thing I decided to do. Let’s not make a big deal out of this. Please.”

  Sidney hugged Marissa fiercely. “We’re not. And we’re not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about. In the whole scheme of things, Jane has far more judge-worthy stunts under her belt. Half of them probably illegal in most states.”

  “More like three quarters. And I’m a double offender in Utah.” Jane nodded proudly.

  A fraction of the tightness eased from behind Marissa’s
sternum. Yes, she hadn’t given them the entire picture, but it still felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her. Besides, keeping Trig’s name out of it was necessary and the right thing to do. It wasn’t her place to reveal his secret, and since there was no chance of them getting sexually involved she didn’t need to feel any guilt where Jane was concerned.

  This would work out.

  “Wait a minute.” Jane’s expression turned accusing, instantly dousing Marissa’s enthusiasm.

  Oh shit. What now?

  Her eyebrows slashing low, Jane leaned forward. “You mean to tell me you’re going to wear that granny sack of a dress on a date with a gigolo?”

  Relief swept through Marissa, only to be replaced an instant later with bristling ire. “Hey, you said the dress was fine.”

  “Sure, for an average guy. Not a fucking gigolo.”

  “The correct term is male escort,” Marissa replied with an exasperated huff.

  “Whatever. You sprung for a boy toy, you’re gonna have to look the part. And I have the perfect outfit for you.”

  Oh God. Visions of mini Band-Aid dresses pirouetting in her head, she peered desperately at Sidney. “Help?”

  ***

  As it turned out, traitor Sid was in full accord with Jane’s evil wardrobe machinations. Left with no escape plan, Marissa found herself held hostage in the Hallowed Chamber of Hoochie Excess—AKA Jane’s walk-in closet—shortly after 7 pm.

  Sidney thrust a glass of Chardonnay into Marissa’s hand. “Fortitude.”

  “I still have to drive home.”

  Sid took the goblet and drained half of its contents before returning it to Marissa. Sighing, Marissa took a sip and allowed herself to relax. Really, how painful could this be?

  The rack of clothes in front of her rustled and Jane’s arm suddenly popped through the colorful, glittery sea of fabric. Marissa took one look at the skin-tight electric blue tube dress and started backing for the exit.

  “Verdict?” Jane waggled the hanger.

  “That would be a big fat hell no.”

  Jane’s grinning face appeared through a gap in the clothes. “Just fucking with ya. I knew you’d throw a conniption.” She stepped out from her hiding spot and held up another outfit in her other hand. “This is the dress I had in mind for you.”

  Surprise spiking through her, Marissa inspected the gorgeous ruby red silk number. “It’s...perfect.”

  Jane preened. “Told ya so. I bought it a few years ago with the delusional idea that maybe one day I’d miraculously sprout huge knockers or get a sugar daddy who’d pay for a boob job.”

  Marissa sighed. “For the millionth time, you don’t need bigger breasts.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not ready to give up my Wonder bra just yet.” Jane shimmied and danced the dress in Marissa’s direction. “C’mon, you know you want to try it on, my little Slutterella.”

  Laughing, Marissa snatched the hanger from Jane and dashed for the bathroom. Once she was inside, she stripped and stepped into the dress. Zipping up the side, she swiveled toward the full length mirror—and double blinked at her reflection. Wow, she actually looked—

  “Hot.” Jane followed up the statement with a wolf whistle as she stepped into the bathroom. “I would so do you in that dress.”

  “Me too,” Sid piped up.

  “Aw, you guys.” Sniffling, Marissa hobbled to her friends and wrapped them in a group hug. Someone grabbed her butt and she gave Jane a stern look. “Are you seriously copping a cheap feel right now?”

  “You know you like it, hussy.”

  Well, now she knew where Trig got his moves. Chuckling, she broke their three-way embrace and reached for the zipper. “Are you sure you’re okay with me borrowing it? Because I’m guessing you didn’t snag this one off the clearance rack.” She spied the tag hanging from the label and scanned the price out of curiosity. The number of zeroes attached at the end made her faint. “Jane.”

  “I know. Coulda bought one boob with that. But what am I gonna do with one boob?”

  “One-boobed sideshow freak,” Sid supplied helpfully.

  “Goddamn it, why didn’t I think of that? The gobs of money I would have brought in could have paid for the other boob.”

  Sidney rubbed Jane’s shoulder in sympathy. “Always a day late, a boob short.”

  Exceedingly cautious with her movements, Marissa wiggled out of the dress and carefully returned it to the hanger. “I can’t wear this.”

  “Of course you can. It would be a crime against nature if you didn’t.”

  Marissa shoved the dress toward Jane. “No.”

  Her chin tipping upward in a stubborn slant, Jane stared her down. “On behalf of small-tittied women everywhere, I demand you wear it and make that damn gigolo’s eyes roll out of their sockets.”

  Oh great. Yeah, exactly not what she needed to have happen.

  Although, it would be interesting to see Trig’s reaction to the dress.

  Oh hell, who was she kidding? She wanted him to fall at her feet in raging state of lust. Or better yet, push her up against a wall and slide his hands around her breasts, cupping and squeezing them before claiming her mouth in a deep, wet, carnal kiss. Yes, they couldn’t give in to that sort of primal urge, but she wanted it.

  Dear Lord, she wanted it.

  Swallowing her whimper, she tugged on her wool pants and cardigan, studiously avoiding direct eye contact with Jane. “Okay, I’ll take it.” I’m going to burn in hell for this.

  An hour later she and Sidney finally bid Jane good night and journeyed out to their vehicles together. Sid offered her a hug before she got behind the wheel. Marissa started to pivot toward her Subaru just as Sidney honked her car horn and waved her back over. Stooping, she peered at Sid through the opened window. “Did you forget something?”

  “Yeah, to tell you how proud I am of you. I know it wasn’t easy for you to step out of your comfort zone.”

  “If the dress was a few inches shorter I’m not sure I’d be so brave.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the dress. But I’m proud of you for that too.” Sidney grinned. “I really do hope you have an amazing time tomorrow night.”

  “Err, I’m not intending to do anything wild.”

  Sidney winked and rolled up her window.

  “No, really, I’m not,” she shouted as Sid tooted the horn again and gunned it out of the driveway.

  Hugging the dress’s garment bag against her chest, she sighed and shuffled toward her car. After gingerly placing her outrageously-priced cargo on the backseat, she slid into the driver’s seat and cranked on the engine. Shivering at the chill that’d overtaken the interior of her car, she clicked the heater dial to full blast and swung away from the curb.

  Deciding to bypass the bottlenecked congestion near the mall, she zig-zagged through the maze of side streets until she reached Lincoln Avenue. Groaning at the sea of glowing tail lights ahead of her, she stepped on the brake and thunked her forehead on the steering wheel. Tis was not the season to be jolly. Not with this freakin’ traffic.

  Pressing her spine against the lower lumbar rest, she straightened and massaged her nape, fruitlessly attempting to relieve the tension setting in there. Bright flashing lights blinked in the peripheral of her vision. Craning her neck slightly, she squinted at the neon marquee sign situated above the doorway of the building across from her.

  Sinners. Frowning, she tried to puzzle out why the name rang a bell. Judging from the number of vehicles in the parking lot, the place was popular. Definitely not a restaurant though. Most of the establishments in this part of town were night clubs and the occasional strip—

  “Oh my God.” It hit her with a reverberating jolt of awareness.

  “I was only going to suggest that you should come watch me at Sinners Friday night.”

  It was Trig’s club. Where he danced. Mostly naked. On Friday nights.

  It was freakin’ Friday night.

  She gulped. “No. I shouldn’t. I real
ly, really shouldn’t.”

  But you want to.

  Aw hell.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Trig powered through the last dozen chin-ups before releasing his grip from the bar and dropping to the mat for a round of stomach crunches.

  “Campbell, you fucking pretty boy, you’re on in ten. Better get suited up.”

  Tightening his abs until the burn curled through his belly, Trig gritted his teeth at Frank, the stage manager. “Hell, we’re all pretty compared to you, you ugly motherfucker.”

  Hoots of laughter rang out behind Trig. Frank grinned, his gold-plated grill competing in the shine department with his shaved scalp. “Keep it up and I’ll find a real bowser to call up on stage for you tonight.”

  Trig lowered his back onto the mat and shrugged. “All women are beautiful in their own way.”

  “Especially when they pull out the Benjamin’s,” one of the guys cackled. His observation incited additional guffaws from his cohorts.

  Trig only rolled his eyes. Yeah, he was just as desperate for money as the rest of these yokels, but he didn’t believe in being mercenary about it. The day he saw his customers—or women in general—as nothing but a walking bank would be the day he’d leave this place behind him and never look back.

  Lacing his fingers behind his head, he finished out his remaining crunches. By the time he was done he sported a fine sheen of sweat. None of that manufactured spray bottle shit for him. He hefted to his feet and strode to his dressing area. After patting the excess dampness from his skin with a towel, he peeled down his track pants and exchanged them for his custom-made tear-away pants. He situated the suspenders before tugging on his fur-collared jacket and buttoning it up. Bending at the waist, he snagged the final touch to his costume—the requisite Santa hat. This one came with an attached white beard. He wouldn’t put it on until the last minute, seeing how the damn thing was ticklish as all get out.

  Frank slapped Trig on the back and handed over a huge candy cane. “Try not to have a size complex.”

  “That was meant for the candy cane, right?” Trig shot back.

  The door to the dressing room opened, allowing in some of the noisy din from the front of the house. Their newest guy, James, ambled inside and accepted the bottled water Frank automatically passed his way. The kid swigged two-thirds of it down before glancing at Trig. “Dude, the chicks are on fire tonight. Best tips I’ve gotten all month.”