Pretty Dirty Trick

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Pretty Dirty Trick Page 51

by Tabatha Kiss


  I head toward the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner and stand in front of it. My reflection stares back at me and I smile into it as I open my trench coat.

  The blood red corset hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe. I suppose that’s the point but I have a bit of a history with not breathing on crosses. I would like to not repeat it.

  But I have my instructions.

  I slide the coat off and let it fall to the floor. I step up to the X-shaped cross, my feet feeling twice as heavy in these thigh-high leather boots.

  “Oh—”

  I step down and bend over to fish into my coat pocket for my blindfold. Wouldn’t want to forget that.

  I return to the cross, take one last look at myself in the mirror, and place the blindfold over my eyes. It blocks out every sliver of light around me, plunging me into an epic darkness that sets my nerves on fire.

  I place my palms on the cross and wait.

  My hearing piques and I listen to the sound of feet and voices behind me. I focus on my breathing, counting each inhale and exhale until I lose count. I feel eyes on me but I can’t tell whether or not they’re his. Is he here already? Standing behind me and staring this whole time… just to see if I’ll break?

  Finally, a flogger tickles my bare shoulders.

  I smile. “Mr. Snow?”

  “Hello, Ms. Payne,” he says, his voice so close. He moves in behind me and kisses the back of my neck. “You look beautiful.”

  I roll my head back and his lips graze my ear. “Thank you.”

  Clive reaches around me and pinches my chin. He draws me toward him for a kiss but I don’t dare move my hands from the arms of the cross. I feel his skin on my back and his body heat blends with mine. He’s not wearing a shirt.

  His fingers move down my shoulder, traveling up my arm to my wrist. “Are you ready?” he asks.

  I tremble, unsure. “I think so.”

  “Tell me when it’s a yes.”

  I take a deep breath, holding it in as it nourishes me, but it’s his capable hands on my body that brings me home.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”

  He steps back but his presence never leaves my side. He takes my hand and wraps a thin rope around my wrist before binding me to the fasteners on the cross. I smile, enjoying the thought of submission. I’m in no danger. He’ll take care of me.

  Clive ties up my other hand and fixes the rope to the cross. “How does that feel?” he asks.

  “Good,” I answer.

  He presses in behind me again, unable to resist a few nibbles on my neck. I sure as hell don’t mind. I let out a quiet moan as he feels up my curves.

  “We shouldn’t stay too late,” I remind him. “You have an early meeting tomorrow.”

  He laughs and drops his hands. “Don’t you ever clock off?”

  “It’s important for the new app! I am your boss…” I tease.

  “Only from nine-to-five.” He curls his arm around my waist and draws me closer to him. “In here, I’m the boss,” he says into my ear. “Say it.”

  “I’m the boss.”

  “No…” He scoffs. “Say that I’m—”

  I giggle. “You’re the boss, Mr. Snow.”

  His fingers twist my hair. “Bad girls don’t get rewarded, Ms. Payne,” he growls. “Bad girls get punished. Do you understand?”

  I quiver in his grip. “Yes,” I sigh.

  “Do you remember your safe word?”

  “Yes.”

  He runs his mouth between my shoulder blades. “Do you want me… to make you use it?”

  I shudder as I squeeze the ropes above me. “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

  He kisses my back. “Good girl.” I feel his lips curl into a smile. “I have something for you.”

  His hands move out in front of me and he lays something around my neck and fastens it. He pinches my blindfold and pulls it over my head to show me.

  I look at our reflection in the mirrored wall. It’s a thin, black choker just like the one he gave me before. Simple and classy with that shiny, dangling—

  My jaw drops. “Wait, is that real?”

  He smiles. “Yes, it is. Figured I’d put my first good paycheck to decent use.”

  “Wow…” I admire it for another second before my gaze finds its way to his bright, blue eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I want you all to myself, Ms. Payne,” he says. “If you’ll let me. Again.”

  I turn my head to kiss him and he wraps his loving arms around me.

  “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

  2 in the PINK

  2 in the PINK

  By Tabatha Kiss

  My name is Phoebe Pink and I have a problem.

  It all began at my high school reunion.

  I looked across the gym and there they were.

  Max Monahan and Thad Hemsley.

  The dynamic duo of Belle Academy.

  When they walked up to me and flashed a few smiles, I didn’t know what to think.

  They never looked twice at me before. Why would they? I wasn’t exactly one of the pretty girls back then.

  The next thing I knew, they took me back to their place and my panties were on the floor.

  I thought it was just one night, but…

  They still want me. Both of them.

  They have no idea about each other but the truth will come out eventually.

  They’re best friends. I should do the right thing and choose one.

  Then, I think… f*ck it.

  They can share. That’s what friends do.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  One

  Phoebe

  I let my eyes roll into the back of my skull. It’s not like my boss can hear it over the speakerphone.

  “Yes, Mr. Fellows,” I say. “I get it. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, Bradley thinks it’s a wonderful idea.”

  Crap.

  I clear my throat. “And I — in no way — wish to discourage your very talented son-in-law. I’m just saying that the young adult dystopian trope has run its course and the company would see more long-term benefits investing in a more original idea.”

  “We should strike while the iron is hot, Phoebe.”

  My office door opens a crack and my assistant sticks her head inside. I give her a wave, quickly laying a finger to my lips to keep her quiet as she sneaks into the chair in front of my desk.

  “That’s what I’m saying, sir,” I continue. “The iron is luke-warm. It’s practically cold.”

  He sighs. “Did you read the first few chapters?”

  I eye the manuscript on my desk. “Yes, I read them.”

  “And the treatment for the rest of the series?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  I wince. “There’s no problem, per se…”

  “It has everything,” he argues.

  “Yeah, that’s kind of the problem,” I say. “A teenage boy falls back in time to Ancient Rome.”

  “Right.”

  “In order to fight on behalf of his little brother in youth gladiator battles...”

  “So?”

  I squint. “Book two has vampires.”

  “It’ll be a hit!”

  My head falls back. “Actually, you know what, Mr. Fellows, maybe it just hasn’t clicked with me yet. How about I read over it all again this weekend and we talk about it on Monday?”

  “I knew you’d come around, Phoebe,” he says. “Keep up the team player attitude and that New York promotion just might be yours after all.”

  I smile through my gritted teeth. “I hope so, sir.”

  “Oh, speaking of…” He pauses. “That assistant of yours isn’t listening in, is she?”

  I glance over at Jackie. She grins silently and sits a little taller in her chair.

  “No, sir,” I answer. “Jackie is out to lunch.”

  “Good. I’ll be in LA late next week. Pencil in a lunch with me off-the-books. My lawyer
is still advising me to stay away from her.”

  Her smile widens as she twirls a lock of her black hair around her red fingernails.

  I pick up my pen and jot down Lunch with Martin on my desk calendar. “You know I’m always up for a cheeseburger with you, sir. Just name a time and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Excellent — and make sure you read that treatment again,” he adds. “I really think there’s something there.”

  “I can’t wait to dive right back in,” I say, forcing enthusiasm.

  “I’ll see you then, Phoebe.”

  “Bye, Mr. Fellows.”

  I end the call and drop my head, letting out a quiet, painful groan from the pit of my stomach.

  Jackie hums to herself. “So, Marty’s coming back to town—”

  I point a finger at her. “No.”

  She shivers with delight. “Somebody’s frustrated.”

  I raise my head again. “Bradley wrote a book series.”

  “The vampire-gladiator-love triangle thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  She scoffs. “No wonder it sucks.”

  “That’s what I said — in much nicer terms. He wants us to print it and nothing I say is convincing him otherwise. I mean, this is Fortnight Press. Not… Stroke My Son-in-Law’s Fragile Ego Press. I don’t want my name on something as stupid as this book series…”

  “Oh, come on, Pheebs…” Jackie throws a reluctant fist into the air. “Be a team player,” she deadpans.

  “I hate nepotism,” I say. “I swear to God, if little Bradley Dumbfuck gets this promotion over me because he’s banging the boss’ daughter—”

  “You’ll smile and nod politely without causing much fuss?”

  I exhale all the air from my lungs. “Yeah, probably that.” I reach for my empty coffee mug and slide out of my chair. “I must refuel.”

  Jackie stands up with me and we pause in the doorway as the mail cart rolls by.

  “Package for you, Jackie,” the carrier says, handing off a small box.

  Her lips curl. “That’s Ms. Bone to you, baby,” she says, eying him from head-to-toe.

  His youthful face blushes and he pushes the cart away a little faster.

  I stare at her. “Hey, Jackie...”

  Her eyes stay locked on his rear. “Yes?”

  “How’s that sexual harassment in the workplace presentation coming along?”

  She drops her smile. “You were serious about that?”

  I roll my eyes. “Any new messages?”

  Jackie drops the box on her desk and we head toward the break room across the land of cubicles. Several employees make an effort to look up and nod at me as we pass by. Some genuine. Some kissing my ass. All rightly earned by yours truly.

  She pulls out her phone and clears her throat. “Your mother called again.”

  I twitch. “What’d she want?”

  “Oh, just your weekly reminder to call her so she knows you’re not dead and also did you get it? Did you get it? Did you get it?”

  I chuckle. “Tell her I’ll call her back tonight and no, I didn’t get the promotion yet.”

  “Already did.”

  “Anything else?”

  I reach the coffee maker and let out a happy sigh that it’s not dry and empty.

  She swipes her thumb upward. “You got an email from a Sally Sweet.”

  I fill my mug to the top. “Delete.”

  “What’s Belle Academy?” she asks, her eyes skimming the screen.

  “It’s my high school. Sally was the Class President.”

  Her face screws up. “You went to a private school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Da-aaamn, girl,” she scrolls a little more, “this place looks fancy as fuck. How loaded is your family?”

  “We’re not,” I answer, taking a sip. “I was a voucher kid — and everyone knew it. Had a target on my back for four years. When do you think I gained all this weight?”

  “She wants to know if you’re coming to the reunion tomorrow night.”

  “I figured. Delete,” I repeat.

  Jackie follows me onto the main floor. “You’re not going?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I twist to glance at her as we walk. “Did you miss the part about me having a target on my back for four years? These people were not kind to me, Jackie. The last thing I ever want to do is voluntarily stand in the same room with them again and listen to how they all left home after graduation, went to any university they wanted on their parents’ dime, and ruled the world while I’m still stuck here like an idiot.”

  Jackie scoffs and steps in front of me to block my path. “Okay, first of all, you’re from Los Angeles, California not Clover, Kansas. Playing the I never left home, oh, woe is me card just makes you look like an asshole. Second, you went to an elite private school for free and I really don’t think I have to even explain to you why whining about that is annoying. Third, give me your coffee.”

  I hand it over without thinking and she sets it down on the nearest desk. “I just don’t think I should—”

  Her palm collides with my cheek with one fast slap. Several gasps echo through the employees as they all stop what they’re doing and stare at us with wide eyes.

  “Jackie?!” I cup my face and feel the warm tingle rise to the edge of my skin. “What the hell?”

  “Are you a boss-ass bitch?” she asks, straight-faced.

  “A what?”

  “Are you a boss-ass bitch?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. That really hurt—”

  “Because the Phoebe Pink that I know is a boss-ass bitch who doesn’t take shit from nobody — especially not a bunch of entitled, private school pricks who never had to work for anything before in their entire lives. The Phoebe Pink that I know is going to walk into that reunion with her head held high and her big boobs sticking out and she’s going to take names because she is a boss-ass bitch.”

  The pain drifts from my cheek and I slowly lower my guard. “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “You’re right. I’m Phoebe Pink.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  I gesture at the cubicles. “I run this whole branch.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I started on the ground floor!”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Now, I’m the boss-ass bitch.”

  She points a finger. “And you’re going to get laid tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, no.” I lean back. “No, I can’t do that.”

  “Phoebe…” Her face turns down. “Do I need to hit you again?”

  I retrieve my coffee and gesture to the others to get back to work as I make way toward my office again. “Jackie, I am not sleeping with anybody from my graduating class. No way.”

  “Why not?” she asks. “It’s the perfect catharsis. These people bullied and screwed you over for four years, the very least they can give back is fifteen minutes of deep dicking.”

  “They’re going to take one look at me and they’re going to see the same big, fat loser they always saw. They’re probably all married with kids by now and I’m not that kind of girl, either.”

  She chuckles. “I am.”

  I pause outside of my office. “Yeah, I know you are. That’s why you’re officially barred from the corporate Christmas party this year.”

  Her eyes wander. “That was a fun night.”

  “By the way, last I heard, Mrs. Fellows cleaned him out.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She smirks. “I should call him next week.”

  “Please don’t.”

  She waves a hand. “Eh, you’re right. It’s no fun unless they have money.”

  I walk in and settle into my desk chair as she sits across from me again. “They used to call me Peepee Pinkeye.”

  “And my class used to call me Jack-me Boner.” She raises her hands, presenting herself. “I’m still cool.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Yes, we are,” she corrects.
<
br />   “Yes, you are.”

  She rolls her eyes and holds up the phone. “So, what do you want me to tell Sally Sweet here? Other than to swing by the titty bar to pick up her check.”

  I stare at the phone in her hand, her thumbs poised and ready above the screen.

  Belle Academy. The land of opportunity, networking, and bad memories.

  I shouldn’t go. The probability of this going well for me at all is slim. It’s just asking for pain and reopening old wounds is the kind of thing I don’t do anymore. I don’t live in the past. It took me years to leave that girl behind and become who I am now.

  I’m a boss-ass bitch.

  My cheek tingles from Jackie’s strike. As usual, she’s right. These people will always remember me as one thing… unless I pull up my big girl panties and change their minds. A boss-ass bitch doesn’t run away from an opportunity. She seizes it with her bare claws.

  I sigh. “Tell her I’ll be there.”

  She grins and starts typing it out. “It says you can bring a plus-one. Can I tag along?”

  “Jackie, you do not want to go to this thing. Trust me. It’ll be nothing but a bunch of rich people standing around in six-thousand dollar suits and fancy cocktail dresses, drinking expensive champagne, talking about how perfect they are…” I pause, glancing into her wide-open, excited eyes. “Who am I kidding? Yeah. You can come.”

  “Yes!” She gives herself a celebratory fist pump before finishing the message. “And send,” she says. “Oh, click here to see our class portraits—”

  “Don’t click that,” I spit.

  Her jaw drops. “Aww!” She coos as she turns the screen in my direction. “Look at you!”

  My eyes fall to my old senior photo and I dart them away just as fast. “Please get rid of that.”

  “You were so cute.”

  “Stop it.”

  “No, really.” She stares at it. “I mean… okay, yeah, your hair is a little…”

  “I needed medicated shampoo,” I say quickly.

 

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