by Tabatha Kiss
“To Papa ‘Gento,” I toast.
They both raise their glasses and we all take a sip to the best damn mafia dad in the world.
Melanie chuckles behind her glass. “Remember the time he told Robbie to cut his fucking hair?”
“Well, to be fair,” I laugh, “it was longer than yours back then.”
Trix rolls a fist and gestures with it just like her father does. “Oy! Young man,” she says, immersed in an Italian accent. “You got nice chin there. Why you gotta disrespect it with that mane?”
Melanie grins. “He’s never let it get longer than his earlobes since.”
Trix’s phone vibrates again and we groan.
I extend my hand. “Give it to me.”
“No,” Trix says.
“Give it to me. Give it to me. Trix. Give it to me.”
She snorts. “Jesus, is this what sex with you is like?”
I pop off the floor but Trix is much too close. She grabs the phone before I do.
“Okay, okay!” she says, swiping the screen. “I’ll tell him to back off.”
“Tell him you are not interested in continuing a physical relationship with him, nor are you looking to begin an emotional one,” I say, my words slurring. “You need to set some boundaries with him.”
Melanie shakes her head. “If a guy is aggressive enough, that won’t work. It just turns them on.”
“Then, what do you suggest she do?”
She shrugs. “Kill him?”
“Well.” Trix cringes. “That’s a dick pic.”
My head snaps toward Melanie at the same time she looks at me. We both bolt off the floor and rush to stand behind Trix’s shoulders to get a closer look.
“Ladies,” Trix sighs, “meet the very best part of all my bad decisions.”
My jaw drops at his impressive girth. “Whoa.”
Melanie giggles. “Not bad, Marky.”
“Indeed.” Trix clicks her tongue. “Too bad it’s connected to an overbearing, possessive jerk.”
I pat her inked shoulder on the way to my spot on the floor. “Boundaries,” I say.
“Yeah, I know.” She taps out a message and sends it off. “We’ll see how he takes that…”
Melanie plunks down on her cushion again. “I’ve never received a dick pic.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Never,” she says.
“My Black Book profile gets them all the time. I finally had to stop checking it and created a new one with a fake identity.”
Trix leans up. “Wait, Robbie never sent you a picture of his junk? That can’t be right.”
Melanie shakes her head. “Never not once. However, the bathroom mirror drawings were a pretty accurate representation, I have to admit.”
Trix exhales hard at the ceiling. “How are we all single? Can I just point out how utterly unfair that is?”
“You noticed that, too, huh?” I mutter.
“I honestly can’t remember the last time we were all in relationships at the same time.” She pauses. “Have we ever all been in relationships at the same time?”
“I don’t think so,” I say, thinking back.
“Well,” Melanie grunts from the floor, “you gals can mope all you want. I, for one, love being single. I can do whatever I want, whenever I please. I can receive flowers from strangers without anyone pissing a bitch about it. It’s great.”
Trix looks at her. “There’s nothing you miss about being in a relationship?”
Melanie wrinkles her nose. “We talking in general or with Robbie specifically?” she asks.
“Robbie, let’s say. But only because I’m genuinely curious.”
I raise a finger. “Me, too.”
Melanie stares off for a moment. “I miss his vasectomy. Does that count?”
“No,” Trix says.
“Oh. Then, no.”
I snort and pick up my glass. “I miss the deep, soulful chats,” I say, taking a sip. “Staying up all night just talking with sex being the furthest thing from your minds…”
“Yeah,” Trix says with a sigh. “Those are nice.”
“Multiple orgasms,” Melanie says.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Those are nice, too.”
“No, I mean Robbie,” she says. “He can have them.”
I raise my head. “Robbie? Seriously?”
“No, he can’t,” Trix says. “Men can’t do that. Can they do that?”
Melanie nods. “Oh, yes. Some can and he could.” She sighs. “That man could pull out, come all over my tits, go right back in, and pound me until we both came together. Now, that... that a girl might miss. But the rest of it?” She waves a hand. “Nah.”
I blow a raspberry until I run out of air. “Sex. That is all.”
“And not just any sex,” Trix says. “Mind-blowing, body-tingling, need-to-rehydrate-mid-boning sex.”
My mind wanders back to that room on the third floor. Naked and chilled to the core but I had sweat on my brow and heat rising off my skin. I could feel the outline of his cock pushed against my clit. Just five more minutes and I’m sure I would have been screaming his name.
Mr. Snow.
“No-ra!”
I snap to attention. “Huh?”
“I said, how’s the stress going?” Melanie asks, her eyes squinting. “You okay?”
“Uh…” I swallow. “Yeah, I’m just… really fucking drunk.”
“Good. I’m not the only one, then…”
We all raise our glasses once more, each one of us throwing back whatever was left inside and chugging it down our throats. A little wine dribbles over my chin. I wipe it away but the heat inside of me rages on.
Mr. Snow.
I can’t wait any longer.
I glance at the clock. It’s just after midnight. Clive works the club until two…
I feel for my phone in my pocket before pushing off the floor. “Be right back.”
Melanie nods at Trix. “Any word from Big Dick Bodyguard?”
“No, not yet…”
I wander down the hall to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Their voices are barely audible, meaning I can probably get away with a whisper or two. I slide my phone from my pocket but quickly stop when I realize that I don’t have Clive’s number.
“Dammit…” I say to myself.
I set a hand on the counter to keep the floor from slipping out from under me.
Maybe the club has a number.
Yes, I’ll call the club and ask for him.
I sit on the toilet seat lid and run a search. Thank god for auto-correct. I don’t think a Red Crick Board exists in Chicago.
A girl answers. “Red Brick Road. What’s your fantasy?”
“Clive,” I say.
“I’m sorry?”
“Uh.” I clear my throat and sit up straight, just like I do at work when I have to make official business calls. “I would like to speak to Clive Snow, please. Is he avurlable?”
“I think he’s walking the floor right now. Do you mind holding?”
“I do not. Thank you very much, ma’am.”
The line changes and soft hold music plays. I close my eyes, bouncing along to the smooth elevator music. Actually, I think that’s the same music they play in elevators in my building.
“Clive here.”
I startle. “Hello!”
“Nora?”
“Yes, hey. It’s me. I’m Nora.”
He chuckles. “And you’re drunk.”
“I am not. I’m just a little tipsy… and thinking about you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I lean back on the toilet. “And I want…”
“Want what?”
“Body-tingling, mind-blowing,” I say, licking my lips. “Sex with lots of water drinking.”
“You’ve never made a booty call before, have you?” he asks, amused.
I gasp. “I am not calling for booty… Okay, maybe a little.”
“Nora, even if I could leave here right
now, I wouldn’t have sex with you tonight.”
“Why not?” I ask, frowning.
“Because you’re drunk,” he says. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Well, that’s… respectful.”
He laughs. “Sleep it off, Nora.”
“Will we see each other tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Anytime after five. I work in the morning.”
I smile. “You never take a day off, do you?”
“Look who’s talking,” he jokes. “Do you want to meet at the club?”
I imagine the dark, silent rooms on the third floor. Pink lights and time limits. “No,” I answer. “Come to my place.”
He pauses. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I bite my lip. “I want to submit to you. I want you to teach me how.”
“Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice low and wonderful.
“Come to my place,” I say again. “I have a condo on Michigan Avenue.”
He hums. “Of course you do.”
I grin. “Six o’clock. The Bailey building. Unit 4.”
“Again, Nora… are you sure?” he asks.
His voice curls around my spine.
“Yes, Mr. Snow,” I say.
“Then, I’ll be there.”
“Six o’clock,” I repeat.
“Six o’clock.” He makes that sound; that delicious, quick laugh I can’t get enough of. “I have to get back to work.”
I shiver with anticipation. “Goodnight, Mr. Snow.”
“Goodnight, Ms. Payne.”
He hangs up but I sit in place for a few more seconds just listening to the silent hum in my ears. Once again I start salivating like a damn dog at the sound of his voice. Mind-blowing, body-tingling…
“Hey, Nora!” Melanie slaps the door. “You fall in or something?”
“No.” I shove my phone into my skirt pocket. “I’m good.”
“Hurry up. Trix just got another dick pic and I have opinions.”
I laugh. “Be right out.”
As I stand, I catch sight of myself in the mirror again. My cheeks are flushed red. My eyes are bright and shimmering. For one damn second, I actually look relaxed. No thoughts of work or responsibility. No weight on my shoulders or creases in my brow. Just pure, blissful relaxation.
“Yes, Mr. Snow,” I say to my smile again.
Eighteen
Clive
Tomorrow night. Six o’clock.
One step closer to Nora’s client list.
I want to submit to you.
I can’t stop replaying her voice in my head. It makes me feel powerful and wanted. I want to hear it again. I’m going to make her say it again…
“How’s it going, Snow?”
My shoulder lurches forward as Roger smacks my back. I stand up straight against the door frame again. “Going fine,” I say.
People pass by us on their way out. It’s closing time. Roger the black blob, however, lingers in front of me.
“Didn’t see the newbie here tonight,” he says with a knowing laugh. “Trouble in paradise already?”
I sneer and point a stiff thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “Keep moving, Roger,” I say.
He pats my shoulder again with his black-covered hand and carries on toward the exit.
Trouble in paradise? Not even close, Rog.
I want to submit to you.
And she will.
That should keep me warm tonight. Hopefully.
I walk upstairs to the third floor. All six pink lights are turned off but I check each room just in case. I wipe down the furniture and the sinks. I check the closets to make sure everything is in place.
Same goes for the second floor. Wipe down the crosses and the benches. Hang up any spare leashes or chains onto the wall hooks. Sweep the floors.
Once the water and juice bar is tidied up, I head for the front entrance. Judy sits behind the counter in her usual place, counting down the register and filling out her paperwork.
“Second and third floors are clear,” I say, casting a wave. “I’m heading out. Goodnight, Judy.”
She glances up and flashes me a smile. “Have a good night, honey,” she says.
I step outside, pulling my coat a little tighter around me as I nudge the door closed. It’s starting to get cold. I’m not too thrilled about that but it’s just another thing in the world I have no control over.
I walk around the building to the back alleyway where my car is parked. As I draw closer, I fish into my pocket for my keys.
Tomorrow is Saturday. No plugging numbers at Little Black Book on weekends but I have an early shift at the gym. I’ll make my way there now.
The roads are mostly clear so it only takes a few minutes for me to cross town. I round the building and park in a spot down from the entrance. My shift doesn’t start until seven-thirty, so I have just under five hours to get a bit of sleep.
I lean over and grab the windshield visor from the floor by the passenger seat. I spread it over the dash and press it up to the window to block out as much of the annoying orange street lamps as possible.
My stomach growls and I look across the street at the twenty-four-hour convenience store. I won’t be able to sleep unless I eat something, so I twist around, grab my extra jacket, and step outside.
The man behind the counter waves at me as I walk in. Whether he recognizes me or not, I’m not sure. Nor do I really care. I pass by the register and grab a turkey sandwich and a bottle of water from the first fridge after the display of lottery tickets.
“That your car?” he asks me. “Outside the gym?”
“Yeah,” I say.
I set the items down on the counter and reach for my wallet.
He waves a sympathetic hand. “On me tonight, pal.”
I pause. Guess he remembers me just fine.
I’ve encountered this kind of thing plenty before. In the end, it’s best not to turn it down. It fills my stomach and makes them feel good about themselves. Win-win.
He eyes the patch on my jacket. “Thank you for your service,” he says.
“Thanks.”
I take the water and sandwich and walk out with them back to my car.
There’s some trash on the backseat. I gather the empty bottles and food wrappers and toss them in the trashcan outside the gym. I grab an extra blanket from the trunk as well. Can’t have too many of those.
I toss it onto my backseat on the way in and close the door behind me. Only a little bit of light from outside manages to slip in through the window covers. I won’t need much anyway.
I set my watch to go off at seven as another hunger pang rattles my gut. I tear open the sandwich wrapper and take a quick bite of the corner. The bread is a bit moist but it’s food. Free food. Won’t complain.
I lay down on the seat with bent knees, resting my head on the small pillow against the door.
This time next week, I could be anywhere but here. It’s hard not to get excited.
Even harder not to think about Nora Payne.
I want to submit to you.
Blood spreads a little faster through my limbs. Good. If those six little words get me through another day, then I’m happy. Six little words until six o’clock tomorrow. I can do that.
I’ve been through much worse.
Nineteen
Nora
I feel like a damn high school girl waiting on her prom date to come pick her up.
Except this time, he’s not going to come in, compliment my mother on our lovely home, and give my dad a handshake.
He’s going to fuck me.
I tried on a dozen black dresses before choosing this one. I’m still not even sure it’s the best option but if things go the way they’re meant to tonight, I might not even wear it for very long.
Damn, I need a drink.
Shoes first.
I bend my knee, quickly raising my foot and slipping my red stil
etto over my ankle.
The doorbell rings downstairs.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper as I shove on my other shoe.
All day. I have spent all day cleaning and tidying. It’s finally six but how the hell did it get here so fast?
I look in the mirror one last time, quickly fluffing my hair to make it look like I didn’t spend an hour making it look like this, then rush down the stairs.
Late dusk shines in from the windows in the living room and I give mother nature an enthusiastic thumbs-up for the perfect mood lighting. At least she’s looking out for me tonight.
I unlock the door — one last breath — and open it.
Clive Snow stands in the hallway and takes that breath away from me.
I expected jeans and a t-shirt, his usual work outfit at Red Brick. He wears a black suit with a red tie instead.
I gulp.
“Hey,” he says, smiling.
“Hi,” I say.
His eyes fall on my dress. “You look amazing.”
“And you look…” I shake my head and move out of the way. “Like you’re still out in my hallway. I’m sorry. Come in.”
He chuckles and steps inside, instantly looking around my living room. “So, this is what Michigan Avenue looks like from this side.”
I close the door and lock it out of habit. “To be honest, I never get tired of it.” I sneak a peek at the mirror by the door. Still looking good. “Would you like a drink?” I ask him.
“Ice water, please,” he says.
I cringe. “Right. No alcohol. That wouldn’t… be right.”
He smiles. “Nora, relax.”
“What? No. I’m fine. I’m very, very relaxed…”
I walk past the stairwell to the kitchen down the hallway. Clive follows behind me, taking slow and soft steps as he looks around. I try and tame my fidgeting hands as I reach into the cabinet by the sink for two drinking glasses but I nearly drop the damn things twice.
Get your shit together, Nora Payne.
I fill them with ice and water. “Okay—”
I gasp as I turn around and find Clive standing directly behind me.
“Nora,” he whispers. “Set the glasses down.”