Conquest

by Ronica Black

  “I just stopped by to see how your night went.”

  Mary fought hardening her eyes. The gall. What a bitch, coming over there and actually asking about her night. Mary clicked her mouse and refocused on the computer. She’d minimized the screen with her sex club search on it, and now she was pretending like she was working. Maybe Meeker would get the hint.

  “I wanted to apologize for not getting a chance to buy you that drink. Rain check?”

  The way she said rain check made Mary’s skin crawl. It was so high-pitched it felt like she’d just run her nails across a chalkboard.

  Mary stopped typing and looked up at her. Meeker was a woman’s woman, all style and pretty poise and gossip. Perfect hairdo, perfect makeup, perfect nails. She always seemed to say the perfect thing at the perfect time. And her clothes were to die for, according to the others. But Mary wasn’t in to the whole girly, ruffly thing.

  “What do you say?” Meeker asked with a zillion watt smile, her voice climbing again.

  Mary didn’t even bother putting up a fight or laying into her for setting her up. She had other things to attend to and way more important things on her mind. Like that gorgeous, ripped, incredibly talented blonde for starters. So instead Mary decided to fuck with her. Shrugging, she said, “Sure.”

  Meeker seemed surprised, and Mary caught her glancing over the cubicle, probably looking toward the others for guidance. They obviously wanted to know if she’d showed last night. But she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing.

  “Uh, okay.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good,” Mary said, once again focusing on her computer. “You let me know when and where.”

  Meeker seemed to fight for words, and Mary couldn’t help but gloat at the sight. It was like watching a flopping fish struggle to breathe on a boat deck, the seconds ticking by painfully slowly, the fish finally lying still, gills yawning, desperate for water. Mary would gladly relieve the fish with water, but for Meeker, no way.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  Mary didn’t miss a beat. “Okay then. See you later.”

  Meeker walked away and Mary heard the others pounce on her with hurried questions. The fuckers. Ugh, God, why hadn’t she stayed home? She didn’t need this crap today. She dropped her head into her hands, wishing she could go home and curl up to dream about her encounter with the woman. But she wouldn’t be able to sleep or rest, much less sit still enough to dream.

  Standing, Mary searched for her colleagues just over the cubicle wall. To her relief, they had dispersed. As she returned to her seat she retrieved the business card with Conquest on it. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the phone and dialed information. She gave the name and the address and, to her surprise, there was a listing. Her heart pounded as the line rang. Her heart rate slowed, though, as the ringing continued. Eventually, it connected to a nondescript voice mail. She cleared her throat and spoke, trying not to be too loud.

  “Uh, hello. My name is Mary. Mary Brunelle. I was there last night and spent some time with a tall blond woman. She was German I believe. Anyway, I was hoping to get a hold of her. Can you please have her call me?” She rattled off her cell number and hung up quickly. She was hunched over her phone like a secret cannibal devouring someone’s ribs. If anyone had happened to pass by, they would know immediately she was guilty of something.

  Forcing out a breath, she eased back against her chair and waited. Oh, no. What if they just used caller ID and called the office instead of her cell? Shit. Quickly, she redialed the number and left another voice mail, this time emphasizing that her cell only should be called and preferably before five because she had a class some nights. But any time after seven would be fine.

  She hung up and at once felt utterly ridiculous. A class? As if that were more important than the woman? She must’ve sounded like a child. She stared at her cell phone, willing it to ring. But it didn’t. She stared some more. Willed some more. But nothing.

  When her boss walked by, she appeared busy. When co-workers wandered by, she did the same. And when the office phone finally rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She answered with all stutters and nerves. But it was strictly business and not anyone from Conquest.

  By the time four thirty came around, she was so wound up she felt like she needed a stiff drink. She’d checked and rechecked her voice mail on her cell phone, triple checking that she hadn’t somehow missed a phone call. There were no messages, though. No missed phone calls. For whatever reason, the woman hadn’t called.

  She pondered this as she gathered her things and left the office. Why hadn’t she called? Did she not get the message? Maybe no one was at Conquest until evening. That was possible. She tried to relax a little, allowing that excuse to swim around in her brain for a while. If worse came to worst, she could always just go back over there.

  Could I?

  What about tonight?

  No, not tonight. Give her a chance to call first.

  She wound her way through the parking lot and found her car. She had just pressed the button on her keyless remote when she heard some snickers coming from nearby. Three of her co-workers were leaning against a car, cigarettes in hand, smirks on their faces.

  “Hey, Mary, how’s it going?”

  She wanted to just lower her head and get inside the car like she usually did. She hated these guys, these three assholes in particular. Her instincts told her they were probably the ones behind the joke even though they hadn’t been included in the original deal to meet her there. She wouldn’t have gone if they had been.

  “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  She tossed her shoulder bag onto the passenger seat and straightened, staring into the evening sun.

  “Home.” She straightened her clothes just like she often did when nervous.

  “Home? That’s what you say every night, Mary. Don’t you have a life?” They laughed softly as the leader, Wade, sucked hard on his cigarette, as if amused by himself. She watched his cheeks cave in and she wished like hell his whole face would follow, sucked into some nameless void to be gone forever.

  “I have a perfectly nice life,” she said, her anxiety causing her words to sound hollow and weak.

  “I bet you do,” Wade said, elbowing the asshole next to him. He pushed himself away from the car and came toward her. “I bet you got a real nice life. See, everyone else thinks you don’t. They think you’re boring and uptight. A real meek little bitch.”

  The words stung as if she’d been slapped. Still, she tried to hide it by squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw. She hoped he didn’t notice her trembling.

  Tears fought to surface.

  She hated this about herself. No matter how strong and confident she felt inside, her body always snapped and rattled like a weak twig in the wind.

  Wade seemed to eat it up as he drew closer. “But I disagree. I stick up for you, Mary. Because I know you. I know that beneath that uptight little exterior lies a lioness. A real sex kitten.”

  Laughter erupted and Wade cocked his head a little, as if waiting to see if she might be amused.

  Mary shook with anger and embarrassment. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. She just stood there and took it, trying her damndest not to cry.

  Wade reached out and touched her face with rough feeling knuckles. The cigarette smoke burned her eyes. She flinched and drew back, and this time he laughed along with his buddies.

  “Go on home, Mary. Before the big bad wolf gets you.”

  He turned and walked back to his friends who continued to laugh. As she climbed in her car and wiped her eyes she heard him say, “No way, man. She didn’t go. I’d bet my life on that.”

  She wished he really had bet his life on it, and she thought about that the entire drive home, crying and shaking and yelling at herself. Why couldn’t she stand up for herself? Why did her voice always falter, caving in to tears and other emotion?

  She had no answers, and when she got home, she change
d her clothes and busied herself cleaning. She was wound up and angry, mostly at herself for taking Wade’s shit. She should’ve slapped him. Or grinned back at him and given him a smart response. She should’ve done something, anything. But all she’d done was stand there like an idiot.

  After cleaning the kitchen counters and dusting and vacuuming, she settled down on the couch and stared at her phone. There had been no calls. The television offered no answers and no entertainment. The woman still saturated her mind, bleeding through Wade and his bullying, saturating him completely to where he was helpless and unable to harm her in her mind. She imagined the woman confronting him, giving him a powerful punch and a good talking to. Then she imagined her wrapping her arm around her protectively before leading her away to safety.

  The woman could handle Wade. Probably put him to his knees. She’d love to see that.

  Mary picked up her phone and took a deep breath as she redialed the club. This time someone answered, a gruff sounding man, and she almost hung up.

  “Yeah? Hello?”

  She closed her eyes and forced herself to speak. “Yes, hi. I called earlier and left a message. My name is Mary. I’m looking for the woman I, uh, met with last night. She’s taller and blond and—”

  “Yeah, yeah hang on a sec.”

  Her heart thundered. There was muffled movement and she could hear his voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Her heart stilled and fell when it was him who came back on.

  “Yeah, Mary is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “She ain’t here.”

  “Oh. Well, when will she be there?”

  “She doesn’t keep a schedule, sweetheart. This ain’t a doctor’s office. We don’t take appointments.”

  “Oh.” She felt foolish but still at a loss. “Is there any way she could call me back?”

  “I’ll give her the message. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  There was a click and a sharp dial tone.

  It seemed to exemplify her day. Sighing, she sunk further into the couch and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Jude entered the club by the back door and strode purposely to her room. The heavy throb of the music and the electricity from the pleasure seeking patrons felt charged and thick as she wove between sweaty bodies.

  Some reached out for her and spoke, turned on and surprised at her civilian attire. But their hungry fingers and hungry come-ons fell short of truly touching her, just like they always did.

  She recognized a few of those hungry faces, but she had no interest, knowing a sensitive little fuck here and there wouldn’t do. No, not tonight.

  Even the ones that dressed the part and talked the talk and thought they wanted a real, true fuck couldn’t handle her at full force. And she was in no mood to cater to their sudden tender needs or “my husband doesn’t want me” tears.

  She strode confidently, ignoring them all as she headed for her room. Once inside, she closed the door, locked it, and then stripped out of her clothes. What she needed tonight wasn’t lingering in the hallway, batting long lashes or pushing out amped up breasts in new leather vests. As she opened her duffel bag and stepped into her leather garb, she tried to imagine what exactly it was she did need. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she knew the second she saw it, she’d know.

  Her imagination soared as she continued to get ready, doing her hair and spraying on cologne. The woman she needed would be consumed in a halo of light as she entered the club, a dangerous look in her eye and a purpose in her step. She’d push all others aside with her brazen confidence and walk right up to Jude, daring her.

  Jude would take that dare, slam her against the wall, and conquer her right there in front of the others. She’d bite into her neck and—a familiar cry of firstborn lust echoed through her head. She tried to shake it away, but it kept coming, this time along with the pale, smooth, giving flesh beneath her hungry teeth.

  It was Mary’s cry.

  Mary’s flesh.

  Mary.

  Mary had taken her full on and had begged for more. She’d come for her again and again.

  And Jude had let her touch her, taking her hands within the first few minutes and insisting on it. Jude had never wanted anyone’s touch before, not at Conquest, and she’d never allowed it. But Mary was different. She’d wanted her touch.

  She steadied herself against the dresser as she remembered how she’d almost come in her hand. Sweet, innocent Mary had stroked her aching flesh and stared into her face like she was God. And it had almost shattered her to pieces. It was why she’d made her stop.

  It had taken years to pick those pieces up, and it no doubt would again, no matter how beautiful and pleasurable the pieces were, even if they were brought about by Mary. She couldn’t risk that loss of control again. She couldn’t allow someone else to slip inside her chest and command the beating and feeling of her heart. It had hurt too much before and the puppeteer of her heart had turned on her, slashing and squeezing her heart, leaving it murdered and useless, a dead lump inside her. Just thinking about it again caused a cold sweat to break out over her. She had to remind herself that she was okay now, her heart fine and though scarred, recovered and functioning. Her one and only relationship was long past and she pushed it from her mind, refusing to think of her ex. That refusal was how she’d survived and that wasn’t about to change now.

  A series of loud knocks came from the door, tearing her from her thoughts. She was grateful for the distraction. Her leather vest and pants felt cool and snug against her skin as she moved and when she opened the door she saw Cord standing there looking at her in his boorish manner, fists at his side, moisture crowning his brow. His coarse chest hair fought against the leather pressing into his broad but somewhat flabby pectorals. Vodka and sweat permeated around him.

  They rarely spoke and when they did it wasn’t without important purpose. He thrust his hand forward and she caught sight of a piece of paper wadded up in his palm. She took it and opened it, knowing at once what it was. Cord, too, acted as if it were old news.

  “She’s called a few times. Left messages. Sorta hyper.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Yeah.”

  He left her there alone in her room, blue and red bulbs bleeding. She closed the door and sat on her bed. The paper read, Mary Brunelle from last night. Wants you to call her, in Cord’s barely legible handwriting. A phone number was scribbled below it. She ran her thumbs over it recalling Mary and everything that had come with her. The innocence, the sincerity, the trepidation. Her moans, her cries, and her orgasmic pleas. She would love to have her again. The mere thought alone slammed her blood through her body in a maddening pace, even more so than her fantasy only moments before. The reaction wasn’t welcomed, and she didn’t allow it to continue for more than a few seconds. She’d been battling it all day long and had hardly slept when she’d finally arrived home the night before.

  Rising, she crumpled the paper and tossed it in the corner bin. She’d tell Cord to ignore any messages from her, just as she did all the others.

  This was why she had rules.

  Mary Brunelle was dangerous, intentionally so or not.

  And from here on out, she was off limits.

  Another knock sounded and relief pushed out with her breath as she opened the door. Finally. A distraction.

  “Hi.” The blonde was short and fit, still dressed in the suit she’d probably worn to work. Her perfume was strong, a lot like her attitude and eager confidence. There was no halo of light, but it wasn’t needed. Jude saw all she needed to see in the determined, keen glimmer of her eyes.

  “Come in.” Jude moved aside and watched as the blonde strode past. She’d had her several times before, forcefully, holding her up against the wall, legs splayed, sharp high heels pointed outward while she called out to God, the large dildo forcing her in and pulling her out with its thick mass.

  Oh fuck yes, she would do. She would have to do.
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br />   “Where do you want me?” she asked with a coy look on her well made up face.

  Jude clenched her jaw and shoved Mary from her mind for the umpteenth time.

  “Everywhere.”

  Chapter Six

  Class. Mary wasn’t looking forward to it.

  It was round two of Spanish and something she had to take for work. The company was starting to advertise as bilingual, and it was either jump on board or jump ship. So she’d jumped on board hesitantly and was still clinging to her life vest. The good news was she was supposed to get a decent sized raise after completion of four classes, so she was keeping her eye on that, plus the fact that she’d hopefully be somewhat fluent in Spanish by the end of it all.

  It really wasn’t that awful and she’d actually enjoyed the first class and had learned quite a bit. She’d taken the first class online, only going to the campus to take her final exam. This round was an on-campus class, and she was more than a little nervous. But at the very least it got her out of work a little early. Anything was worth that. Even a nerve-racking hour and a half at the college four days a week.

  She kept telling herself that as she walked to class. Numerous others passed her by, and she knew that normally she’d be staring at the ground, avoiding gazes and hellos. But all she could think about was class ending so she could swing by Conquest.

  To her dismay, the woman from the club hadn’t called. Mary had sat by the phone all night long, watching reruns well into morning. Finally, she’d drifted off to sleep only to dream about her. When she’d awakened, she was convinced they had met up again. Only after a long, hot shower did she realize it had only been a dream. Disappointment had weighed her down after that. She couldn’t seem to shake it. Why hadn’t she called? Mary had gone over it repeatedly in her mind. Surely she’d received the message by now. Surely.

  And yet, no call.

  By the time four thirty had rolled around she’d tossed her cell into her purse, refusing to keep staring at it. She’d have to take matters into her own hands and just drive back over to Conquest after class.