by Gillian Zane
“I changed my mind,” I told the driver. I looked up another access point for my complex, one that I wouldn’t be using a lot. “I want to go to my friend’s house. The address is 1578 Nightingale, that’s by the mall.”
The cabbie nodded and turned right to head in the other direction. It would take me longer to get home, but this access point looked like it was in an open apartment complex. I don’t know who was following me, but this way I couldn’t be cornered in a lobby.
I watched as the SUV made the turn with us and my mind started reeling. Who could be following me? Was it some kind of Afterlife thing? Did they keep tabs on their operatives and this was the only time I’d noticed?
My stomach lurched at my other thought. It could be Drake. He seemed determined to find out what was going on with me. Could this be him? I had given him a home address. I looked on my phone at my ID. The address listed was one I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t even an access point, obviously fake. Could he be trying to figure out where I lived?
“Pull over here,” I said to the cab driver as we neared the complex. I touched my phone to his credit card reader and added a tip. “Thanks,” I said as I slipped out of the vehicle. He only grunted and pulled away quickly.
There was no such thing as good customer service anymore.
I hurried across the street to the main building of this new complex. I looked over my shoulder but I couldn’t see the SUV. Maybe it was in my head, a coincidence, and I was getting paranoid?
There was a key code box to get into the apartment complex, but when I touched the door I felt the familiar pull of recognition. I typed in the universal code for our complex and the door opened. When I walked through I was blinking back the daylight and standing in the lobby of my complex. Home.
I marched right into Brandon’s office.
“Who is this guy you had me talk to, Brandon? This Drake guy? I think he was following me and then he showed up at the bar looking for answers. He doesn't believe any of the lies I’ve told him.”
“I don’t know, Cassie, he was recommended.” He stood up and hovered around me, not knowing what to do.
“How does that happen? How do you get your orders?” I asked curiously, wanting to know what the hell was going on.
“I get the files delivered sometimes, other times it's through a text message or email from some anonymous admin that works in our division headquarters. There's a liaison, her name is Mel. She’ll bring me some of the cases and relay any messages I have back to the Powers That Be. I texted her about your issue with memory loss and she gave me Drake’s card with explicit instructions that you weren’t to reveal what you are.”
“He knows there’s something off about me. He’s an investigator for God’s sake. I think he followed me tonight.”
“You’re just being paranoid, Cassie. Even if he does dig, there is nothing he can find out. Your information is air tight. He might think you’re hiding something, but there will be no way he could guess what you are really hiding,” he laughed and put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me.
“It’s your first case, it would stress anyone out. Go relax a bit, get some downtime, try and nap. Sometimes you can shut off, it’ll do you a world of good.” He gently pushed me toward the door of his office.
“But, what if he doesn’t stop? He seems very intense and set on figuring out what’s going on with me. He found out where I worked.”
“Then all we have to do is give you a new identity. How’s the case going, almost done?” He changed the subject.
“Yeah, I should have it wrapped up Thursday night,” I said.
“Perfect. If the guy is still harassing you, when you get your next case, along with it you’ll get a new identity. No big deal.”
“Okay.” I was relieved. It was true, all I had to do was change how I looked and my paperwork and Cassidy Hail was no more. Just like Cassandra Mercier was no more.
I trudged up the stairs to my apartment. How many identities would I go through in death? Would it be hundreds? Thousands? There was no telling how long I would be in this position. If I was set to be in Limbo for thousands of years, how long would I have to be an operative? It was a tiring thought, but what was my other option? Oblivion? Moving on to some unknown other job? An eventual promotion to some unknown Nirvana, which could technically be the same as this?
Death definitely wasn’t what I expected.
Chapter 16
Party Over Here
“C - Party tonight. Need you there! Don’t b lame.”
The text message came through during my shift. It was weird balancing my new life with my old life. All my friends were still in college and here I was on patrol as a rookie officer.
“Got u a bday present!”
The follow-up came through when I didn’t respond. The party was at an acquaintance’s house near the lake. She was loaded, via her trust fund, and her parents’ house was the perfect party spot. She threw parties on a monthly basis and they were always a little much.
Tonight I was twenty-one. It was sort of a momentous occasion. Maybe a party was in order. I had promised my mother I would stop by after my shift. She was intent on repairing our relationship. She thought getting me a cake and a present, something she had rarely done when it mattered, when I was a child, would make things right between us. She was wrong.
“You drive?”
I texted back.
“Yes!!!!!!!!!!! Grab you at 9.”
“K”
The response was my name with kiss emojis all around it. I had been friends with Pete since middle school. It didn’t matter that he was about to graduate college with a degree in engineering, or that he was older than me. He would always be the kid who sat down at my lunch table, hit me in the face with a forkful of mashed potatoes and declared, “You’re my new BFF, but you need to smile more.”
I woke up with a start. I must have napped. That was new. I hadn’t had to sleep since I died, or at least since I’ve come to Karma Incorporated. I grabbed for my phone and checked the time. It was Thursday afternoon. I had slept for almost twenty-four hours. I only had a few hours before my shift at the bar. It was my third and hopefully the last shift I would work, if things went as I had planned. I was as nervous as a cat during a thunderstorm. I had one goal today- flirt and carry on with Bishop.
I dressed carefully, pulling out a t-shirt dress and pairing it with a comfy pair of boots that were appropriate for behind the bar. I left my hair down, going for loose waves, that look that says I didn’t try, but I really did, because it’s hard to look this good without trying.
I was getting used to the new me. The blonde hair, the perfectly proportioned good looks. It was so different from what I looked like when I was alive. I had been average- average height, hair color, looks. A sturdy six on a ten scale chart. I had been okay with that though, using it to my advantage. Blending into normality so people took me for granted. It worked then. Now, I didn't blend. I stood out. Men and women alike noticed me. I had to use the way I looked to my advantage in a different way.
I had the late shift again tonight, so I showed up at the bar and the place was a little quiet for a Thursday night. Bishop was sitting at the bar waiting for the current bartenders to close out. I pulled up a chair next to him, making sure to touch his back and his arm a few times as I greeted him and listened to him tell me some random story about his afternoon. I laughed at the right times. I smiled coyly. I chewed on my lip for effect.
He had to think I was receptive to his charms. From the looks he was giving me, he was eating it up.
By the middle of the shift, he wasn’t allowing me to just flirt, it was a put-up or shut-up kind of thing. I had to hold him off until we closed the bar, even though he was making constant attempts at engaging me behind the bar. A few times he came up behind me, a hand on my hip, his breath on my neck and a whispered compliment in my ear. As the night got later and the crowd got thinner, his attention was for me alone.
He caugh
t me wiping down my station. His hand pulled me against him, his body pressed against my back from knee to shoulder.
“Cassidy, I would never have you pegged as a tease,” his deep voice accused in my ear.
“I’m not a tease, Bishop.” I pressed back into him, keeping up the charade.
“Fuck,” he groaned as I snaked my arm around him from behind and pulled him closer. “I want to close down the bar now, so we can get some alone time.”
“Patience, I need the tips,” I whispered back and scooted from between him and the counter.
“You’re killing me, Cassidy,” Bishop said with a grin as he readjusted himself with no shame.
“Bartender!” a man down at his side of the bar called and Bishop rolled his eyes and walked backwards to his side, giving me puppy dog eyes the entire time, like I could send everyone away just so we could screw.
I waved him off and went back to doing my job. Both of them. For a Thursday night the bar was relatively low-key. It was the start of Spring Break and everyone seemed to be out of town, in places that were sunnier and had sand. The few people who were still here were miserable. The bar was dead. It was the perfect time to take a vacation, which was why Bishop was leaving tonight with his sister. He told me between patrons he was looking forward to getting in on some of that Spring Break action himself. Even with the pregnant girlfriend in tow. Well, he didn’t mention that last part, I only thought it.
Even with the slow night I watched Bishop shove a good deal of cash into his pockets. He was taking a good deal of our tip pool and cash that was meant for the bar. He was also getting a little sloppy. He must have thought he had me under his thumb and I was too smitten to notice his thievery. He was also about to go on vacation, he needed the extra grip, which was making him take more chances.
By one a.m. the bar was dead. We could usually keep it open until almost three, but there was no point in keeping it open just for the few stranglers that were playing darts and sipping on cheap domestics.
“Hey guys, we’re closing down early,” Bishop called to the last patrons. They grumbled but took down their darts and headed out the door. Bishop went to the front door and turned the signs off. The bouncer and bar back had cut out an hour ago when the crowd thinned. We were closed.
I started to clean my station, but Bishop had other things on his mind. Again the move from behind, placing his hands on my hips and drawing me close. He must have some kind of bent over the bar fantasy because he was on repeat.
“Teasing or not, now?” He held onto me tight. I ground back into him, letting my back arch against his body.
“Not,” I purred and he had me turned around and facing him in a second. His mouth found mine. He was intent on claiming me and not with romance. His kiss was hurried and aggressive. I would have mistaken it for passion if I didn’t have him figured out. He knew he was rushed for time. He knew his sister would be here soon. One quickie before the family gets here. Bastard.
I concentrated on him. On slowing down his hectic pace. I thought, slow, slow, slow. Don’t worry about time, there’s plenty of time. It worked. His pace slowed, he focused on me, on charm, on wooing me. I smiled, pleased, against his lips.
I willed him to forget that his girlfriend and sister were coming here, to lose himself in me. It was all about me.
“Cassidy,” he moaned my name. His kiss became lazy. His hands stopped pawing at me and began to caress. His movements became lethargic and drenched in seduction. Much better.
I kissed him back and he groaned against my mouth. He tasted like chocolate and peppermint. It was intoxicating. He really did know how to kiss, once he focused on it. It was all that practice.
His hands found skin trailing up my thighs and pulling my short dress up. He was kissing his way down my face, over my cheek and onto my neck. Sucking along my neck, his hands pulled the loose material of my dress up so he could cup my breasts. He squeezed them through the thin material of my bra and I moaned, letting my head fall back to give him more access.
“Cassidy, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this bar since you first got hired,” he said against my neck.
Me and every other girl in the bar. But, I didn’t say that out loud. That would ruin the moment and I had another ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes before everyone showed and this party got started. I didn’t want to take it as far as getting plowed on the bar, but the point was to make it look real.
He got impatient and tugged my dress up, exposing my flesh to the cold air-conditioned air of the bar. I had worn a lacy matching underwear set for maximum temptation value and he groaned in appreciation.
“You have the best set of tits I’ve laid eyes on.” He leaned over me, tugging the material of my bra to the side and captured a nipple in his mouth. It sent warm zings down my body and my back arched thrusting my tits up for him to play with. The guy might be a total douche, but he did know how to turn a girl on. It had been a long time since I had felt anything. No cold chilled me. No warmth heated me. My emotions had even been muted, not getting that angry, or that mad. But right now, I was turned on. I felt every part of my body and it was on fire. Every touch, every caress ignited something deep inside me. I was thrumming with the attention. Squirming with want and need. I hadn’t intended this, but it was consuming me, the want. I was all worked up and on the verge of giving in.
“Get on the bar,” he said, his intention clear. I hesitated for a moment, only a second, and then he bit down on my nipple.
“Ow!” I yelled. But, oh damn, it felt good.
“Come on, I want your ass on the bar. I need to taste you,” he all but growled. I scrambled back and pushed my body up and onto the bar. I pulled my dress up, so I wasn’t sitting on it, exposing the tiny scrap of lace that was the only thing hiding my sex from his hungry eyes. I spread my legs, welcoming his attention and he stared down at me with raw hunger on his face. His hands slid over my legs, over my knees and onto my thighs, pushing them further apart.
“You planned on fucking me tonight, didn’t you? Did you wear this for me, Cassidy?”
“Maybe,” I said slyly as his hand slid down my thigh and I shivered. He pushed my legs open even farther and bent over me. I could feel his hot breath through the thin material of my underwear. His fingers pushed the fabric aside and he licked, making me cry out in hunger. I wanted this. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted him to stop playing around and lick me. Make me come.
“Shit, Bishop,” I cried out as the door swung open and the scene I had set up unfolded perfectly. But way too soon. I had been so close to getting off.
Chapter 17
Face First
I’d like to go into detail on this particular scene. This was, of course, the crowning achievement of my budding Karma operative career. My first case had come to fruition. And quite well, if I had to say so myself. Even if I hadn’t gotten that orgasm. And this moment, this particular frame in time, would show if I had done my job correctly or had screwed up on an epic level.
This was going to be one of those moments Bishop looked back on throughout his life, and thought, is this what set my life in motion? Would it send him on the right or wrong path? That was up to him. The goal was the right path, but the thing about humans was they had free will. We could push them in the right direction, didn’t mean they were going to stay headed in that direction.
But, back to the scene.
There I was on the bar. My legs were propped up on the cooler, my dress jacked up to my neck. My bra cups were pulled down under my tits and they poked up all perky and pointed at the ceiling. They were good tits, even if they were a little too big. Brandon and his twelve-year-old boy big breasted mentality. I had gotten used to their larger size, but they were a bit much. I had to admit, though, large, perky tits, worked well for this situation.
Bishop was currently buried face first in my crotch. Both his hands were on the bar and he looked like he was dining in and enjoying every moment of it.
That
was when the door opened.
Three people walked in, Bishop’s girlfriend Angela, his sister, Bev and the owner of the bar, Marshall. They had all been chatting outside for a few moments before entering and were still deep in conversation when they walked into the bar. Marshall was feeling guilty about having to come in here and fire Bishop, especially after seeing the pregnant girlfriend. But he was determined.
After getting the CCTV working, he had watched Bishop shove nearly three hundred dollars in his pocket tonight as Marshall watched from his phone. Three hundred dollars that should have gone in the register and an unknown amount of tip money that should have been split with me. This was cause for termination, something he hadn’t had to do in his five years of being a bar owner. It was making his palms sweat and his stomach churn. And now with the pregnant girlfriend, he was regretting his rash decision to throw Bishop out on his ass and pressing charges.
But not anymore. I read it all over his face when I looked in mock horror at the three of them. All three of them stopped and gaped at the scene playing out on the bar.
All their negative thoughts rushed through me as the strong emotions coalesced around them. It was freaky and something I had never experienced before. It sobered me quickly. The intense sexual excitement I had felt earlier was gone, replaced with determination to see this done.
Three people with very different thoughts stared at us. Bishop hadn’t even noticed and wasn’t complaining. His head was still between my legs as my thighs tried to close.
The sister thought it must be some mistake. This couldn’t be her brother. Cassidy the slut was getting it on with the bouncer, or someone that was vaguely Bishop sized and had his same color hair, or something like that, while her sainted brother Bishop was in the back stocking the beer. The girlfriend was morosely relieved. She had known this was happening and now she had proof. Now she could get mad. Now she could tell everyone he was a douchebag, that she was the victim. And maybe her parents would take her back in if they heard the story.