Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

“Great,” she says, her face relaxed but still smiley.

  The elevator opens and Nora walks onto the floor with confidence the way she always does.

  I stand still until the last possible moment before the doors decide to close.

  Talking over coffee.

  Talking over coffee… about something other than... well, you know.

  Nora Payne just asked me out.

  I step off the elevator and make a hard turn toward the accounting block.

  This was the whole point, right? To gain Nora’s trust. To earn access to her life and get close enough to… Christ, I don’t even remember anymore.

  That’s a lie. I remember exactly why I’m here and it sure as shit isn’t to plug payroll numbers all day.

  I lower into my desk and stare at the wall beside my computer monitor.

  This is getting too out-of-hand. It was different when it was a possible one-night-stand. It was different when Nora Payne was just another rich bitch from the wealthy district. Just a damn representative of the elite one-percent with enough money to throw at all of her problems — anything Alex and I planned to accomplish included.

  I never expected a connection.

  I never expected real trust.

  I never expected to fall for her.

  That’s what this is, isn’t it? That gripping nausea in my gut twenty-four hours a day? That sick feeling that never goes away until I’m in her presence again. Then, I feel like a million fucking bucks. I feel indestructible. All because she looks up at me and says my name.

  She’s my sub. I have a responsibility to protect her… inside and outside of the bedroom.

  But how long could we possibly last? Not long, that’s for damn sure. She’ll move on and I’ll be left with nothing. That’s the only way this can end.

  I have to finish the job I started.

  Twenty-Six

  Nora

  I look over my shoulder toward the entrance again. It’s not even six yet but I can’t stop counting the moments.

  Talking over coffee. It’s the oldest date in the book. I’ve done it a dozen times before but I’ve never felt this many butterflies.

  The entrance chimes again and I perform a quick look, hoping for that ruggedly handsome and familiar face to walk in and whisk me off my feet, but… no.

  It’s just Robbie.

  I see him before he sees me. He walks in with dirt caked on his jeans and t-shirt but that leather jacket is in pristine condition, as usual. He spots me and I give him a friendly wave. He raises his bandaged hand to acknowledge me as he heads toward the counter to order.

  I pick up my phone to distract myself from checking the time again but I just end up checking the time anyway. Five fifty-five. He still has five minutes. Calm down, girl…

  Robbie plops into the booth across from me and sets his coffee down in front of him. “Hey, Bubbles,” he greets, nodding softly. A few tattered, sweat-covered strands of his hair plop down along his forehead.

  “Hey, Rob,” I say. “You look… tired.”

  “Just another manic Monday,” he answers, raising his coffee to his mouth. “You, on the other hand, look cute as hell, well-rested, and ready for a night out.”

  “Maybe.” I blush. “If he shows up.”

  “Nora, nobody, and I mean nobody, will ever live up to your impossible standards for timeliness and punctuality,” he jokes. “Give Daddy a break.”

  I tilt my head in annoyance. “You, too?”

  “Blame Trix. She texted me.”

  I deflate. “Jeez…”

  He chuckles but quickly throws on a more serious face. “For real, though. Are you happy?” he asks. “You look happy.”

  My smile spreads. “I think I might be.”

  “And you’re safe, right?”

  “Uhh…” I laugh. “Yeah, we’re safe.”

  “I don’t mean condoms,” he quips. “Obviously don’t have to ask you that. I mean, do you feel safe with him? He’s not violent or anything?”

  I shake my head. “No, he’s not. He’s dominating, sure, but I’ve never felt safer. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “Because there is a very tall, very blue-eyed father figure by the register that looks about ready to beat me up.”

  I look over my shoulder. Clive stands at the counter across the shop, gently leaning against it as he waits for the barista to make his coffee. A smile touches my lips but he continues staring fire daggers at Robbie.

  I turn back to Robbie. “He’s a sweetheart, Rob. He just sees a strange guy talking to his date. Do I need to remind you what happened to the last guy you thought was hitting on Melanie right in front of you?”

  He rolls his eyes. “You punch one priest and the world never lets you forget it.”

  I raise a brow while I take a sip from my cup.

  “Hey, Nora.”

  Clive appears over me, his hand instantly falling to rest on my shoulder.

  “Hey, Clive.” I gesture across the table. “This is my friend, Robbie. Robbie, this is Clive.”

  “Yo, Clive,” Robbie says. He extends his bandaged hand by accident. “Whoa — wait. Hope you don’t mind going lefty.”

  He switches to his left hand and Clive extends his own.

  “Nice to meet you,” Clive says.

  Their handshake lasts a second too long. I look down to find both of them squeezing each other with white-knuckle grips.

  Men.

  “Anyway…” Robbie takes his hand back. “Good to see you again, Nor.”

  I nod. “You, too, Rob.”

  Robbie stands up, purposefully extending his height as tall as he can but Clive clearly towers over him by five inches. He slides his sunglasses free from his pocket and scoots them up his nose. “I’ll see y’all around,” he says, giving Clive a head nod.

  “Bye,” Clive says.

  Robbie takes off and Clive sits down in the booth across from me.

  “What was that about?” he asks me.

  “That was just… Robbie,” I answer.

  He wrinkles his forehead. “Seemed like he was coming on to you,” he says, gripping his cup.

  I set my coffee down. “Clive, no. Trust me. He’s my best friend’s ex-husband. We’ve been friends for a very long time and that’s all we’ve ever been. He’s more like a big brother to me than anything.”

  His shoulders relax a little. “And he’s never…?”

  “Never. Okay — full disclosure — I have seen him naked but that was a very strange Easter Sunday parade that he will never live down.” I laugh.

  “Okay.” He cracks a smile. “Ex-husband?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened there?”

  I sigh. “Melanie Rose, despite her profession, isn’t the romantic type and Robbie Wheeler is the tattooed bad boy from the other side of town who knows exactly how to push her buttons. They met out of nowhere one night, a few years ago, and it was like a powder-keg. When they weren’t fighting, they were fucking, and every moment in-between, they were madly in love. In all my years of setting people up, I’ve never known two people more entwined than Mel and Rob.”

  “So, what changed?”

  “Robbie is an alcoholic,” I say, thinking back. “And after a year of urging him to get help and making excuses for him and his behavior, she had enough.”

  He raises his coffee. “Seems harsh,” he says, taking a sip.

  I nod. “It’s hard to stand by your man when he can’t even stand up on his own. But she tried. We all tried. One day, she kicked him out. They had a huge fight. They both said some things they couldn’t take back. She filed the next morning and he signed the papers.”

  “He didn’t try and fight it?” he asks. “If I was that much in love, I don’t think I’d give up so easily.”

  “Oh, Robbie’s never given up on Melanie,” I say, smiling. “When Melanie decides she wants something, she usually gets it. But Robbie is far more patient than she is. He’ll wait.” I shake
my head. “It’s only a matter of time until that keg sparks again. I guarantee it.”

  Clive’s brow bounces once. “You really are good at the whole dating thing.”

  “Only when it comes to others. My own track record is…” I chuckle into my coffee. “Well, fail is such a strong word.”

  “And it doesn’t apply,” he says. “I don’t think dating and relationships are things you fail at. There’s far too much chance involved for there to be a definitive formula. Not to throw your livelihood under the bus, of course.”

  “You might be right.” I tilt my head. “Just don’t advertise that I said that.”

  He laughs. “I won’t.”

  I admire him across the table. It’s almost strange seeing him somewhere other than the office or standing in the shadowed corners of Red Brick. This is just… Clive Snow. Casual, coffee-drinking Clive Snow.

  “Well, enough about me and my friends,” I say. “I want to know about you.”

  “About me?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I glance around. “Here we are. Talking over coffee for the first time. It kind of feels like a first date.”

  He nods, smiling. “A little.”

  “You want me to trust you, right?” I ask. “I want to, too.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asks, staring into his coffee.

  I shrug. “Where are you from?”

  “Here,” he answers. “Born and raised.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where did you go to high school?”

  “Amundsen.”

  I blink. “Me, too.”

  He leans forward. “Yeah?”

  “Class of 2005.”

  “I was 2010.”

  “We just missed each other, then.” I laugh. “So, that makes you…”

  “Twenty-five,” he answers.

  I bite my lip. “I remember twenty-five.”

  “Not too long ago for you.”

  “Feels like a million years,” I say, chuckling. “What’d you do after you graduated?”

  “I tried more school for a semester or two,” he says. “That didn’t work out, so… I joined the Army.”

  “Ahh,” I raise my cup, “now here’s the good stuff.”

  Clive shakes his head. “That didn’t work out, either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He pauses. “I went through basic and then they chucked me onto a plane to some desert first chance they could.”

  “Afghanistan?” I ask.

  “Iraq,” he corrects. “A few months later, I was injured and they tossed me right on back home.”

  I hesitate. “Must have been some injury, then.”

  “It was enough to discharge me for good.”

  “So…” I look at the table between us. “That scar on your leg is…?”

  He fixes his jaw. “You noticed,” he says.

  “Hard not to.”

  His eyes go dark for a moment. “I nearly lost it,” he says. “I wish I had some amazing story of heroics to go along with it, but I don’t. A squad mate of mine panicked under pressure, hugged his rifle a little too hard, and I just happened to step in the way at the wrong time.”

  I breathe out, my heart breaking. “That’s… a letdown.”

  “It really was.” He taps the table. “Anyway, they sent me home and I moved back in with my mother for a while until I could walk again.”

  “What does she do?” I ask, happy to shift the subject.

  “She was a teacher — at our high school, actually.”

  I lean forward. “Wait, what does she teach?”

  “English Lit.”

  “Mrs. Snow?” My jaw drops as my brain places her. “Your mom is Mrs. Snow?!”

  He nods, smiling. “That’s Mom.”

  “I loved Mrs. Snow!”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Wow.” I blink with nostalgia. “I haven’t thought about English Lit since… English Lit.”

  Clive laughs. “I’m sure she’d understand.”

  “I wonder if she remembers me.”

  His eyes fall again. “She died last year.”

  I lean back, my guts churning with grief. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry,” I say.

  “It’s all right.” He waves a hand. “She worshiped her students. I’m sure she would have remembered you.”

  Fuck.

  How many times am I going to shove my foot in my mouth here?

  Still, at least I feel like I know him just a little bit better now. The timeline isn’t exactly complete yet but he’s already revealed so much. And not an ounce of it is fair. I’m not about to make him tell me more. I’m not even sure I want to hear it, in case my heart rips apart.

  I exhale hard. “Clive, I am so sorry,” I say again.

  “Really, Nora. It’s fine.”

  “No, it’s not.” I drop my head. “We’ve been here five minutes and I’ve paved over the worst possible subjects in your life…”

  Still, he smiles. “I guess, in your case, we can probably re-visit the concept of failure in dating.”

  I breathe a laugh. “Fuck. Maybe you’re right.”

  Clive extends his hand across the table and rests it on mine. “Nora, I mean it. If I didn’t want to talk to you about these things, I wouldn’t have answered. Okay?”

  I nod, feeling his warmth climb up to my elbow. “Okay,” I say.

  He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb and sits back. “So, you’re the expert. What do normal couples usually do after the first coffee date crashes and burns?” he asks.

  “Well,” I grin, sensing opportunity, “according to my expertise, the general consensus is that the man takes the woman back to his place and… he spanks her.”

  He raises a brow. “Does he?”

  “He does.”

  His head tilts. “Something about that just doesn’t seem right…”

  I raise my hands. “Hey, you asked the expert.”

  He stares across the table at me with a subtle hesitation in his blue eyes. “My place, huh?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  He sucks in his bottom lip, pausing for a moment before his mouth curls again. “I’ll do you one better. Come with me.”

  I blink as Clive stands with his cup. “Go with you where?”

  “Just come on.”

  I bolt up with excitement, tossing my empty cup in the trash as he leads me outside.

  Twenty-Seven

  Nora

  Clive takes my hand and walks me down the block. We take a right turn into the first alleyway we pass. I look back with suspicion, covering my nose over the stench of garbage while Clive’s fingers tighten around mine. Please, don’t let me step in a puddle or… worse.

  We turn again and I find myself at the coffee shop’s alley exit. The next door down is bright red with white grid lines painted from top to bottom.

  The Red Brick Road.

  Clive reaches into his pocket and withdraws a set of keys. “Be real quiet, okay?” he says.

  I bite my cheek in suspense. “Why?”

  He unlocks the door and pushes it open. “After you.”

  I don’t hesitate. I walk past him inside, mostly just to get out of this smelly alleyway. He closes the door behind us, plunging the room into darkness but that doesn’t seem to slow him down at all. His hand locks on mine in the dark and he leads me down a shadowed corridor cut off from the club’s floor. I hear the deep, moody music and the faint hum of voices on the other side of the wall.

  “Employees only area,” he whispers.

  “I figured.”

  “Watch your step. Going up.”

  My toes tap the edge of the first step but I find the banister beside me to keep from falling. After a few steps up, I move easier but I keep my tight grip on his hand.

  Clive turns a knob and pushes another door wide-open. I blink to adjust to the soft lights inside but my jaw drops as I realize where we are now.

  It’s a tight corridor, barely large enough for two adults walking side-by-sid
e, with three large windows looking out onto the club’s second floor. My head tilts in confusion, thinking that I don’t recall those windows being here on the other side, but then—

  “Two-way mirrors?” I ask.

  Clive pauses by the first window viewing a St. Andrew’s cross and smiles. “Yes.”

  I stand beside him, taking in the view of a young girl tightly restrained to the cross. It’s that same couple from my first visits here. Her Dom stands behind her with his belt in one hand and her ponytail in the other, gently tilting back to growl something in her ear. She smiles, just like always.

  My skin shifts. “Isn’t this…” I pause, feeling the beautiful ache in my neck as he tugs the girl’s hair back. “Isn’t this like, really wrong?”

  “What is?” Clive asks.

  “Aren’t we invading their privacy? They don’t know we’re here…”

  “In here, out there.” He shrugs. “What’s the difference?”

  I bite my lip, still not sure if I agree. “There are no fake mirrors on the top floor, are there?”

  “Oh, no. Those rooms are one-hundred percent private. I wouldn’t have taken you up there if they weren’t.” He points at the windows. “These are just an added measure for keeping people safe. If we suspect someone of bad behavior, we can get a closer look through these.”

  “Bad behavior?” I chuckle. “Isn’t all of this bad behavior?”

  He winks. “I mean rule-breaking, specifically. Not honoring safe words, things like that.”

  “Have you ever caught anybody doing that?”

  “Once or twice,” he answers. “We have a zero-tolerance policy, and yes, it’s very satisfying to kick them out.”

  I nod, feeling a little better about it. “So, why are we here now?” I ask.

  Clive looks at me, his eyes dropping down to my chest. “I have a fantasy,” he says, “and I thought that maybe you’d be willing to help me fulfill it.”

  “What fantasy?”

  “It’s kinda naughty.”

  My lips twitch. “Can we get in trouble for it?”

  “Only if we get caught.”

  “Will we get arrested if we get caught?”

  He chuckles. “No.”

  “Okay. What is it?”