Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2)

by C. J. Ellisson

  Gino lets out a low whistle. “Damn, don’t know if you want Mom to see these or not.”

  Before I answer, Vinnie chimes in. “Are you kidding? She’ll love it. So proud of her first born. She’ll probably share them with her church friends.”

  “There’s a thought that gives me the creeps,” Gino says. “Thanks.”

  Vinnie hovers over one and points. “Um, maybe not this one. Dude, are you hard?”

  I laugh, uncaring what the two think as long as Heather is happy. “Yeah, man. That happens when the photographer starts to strip. Go figure.”

  Vinnie stares at me and nods. “You sound happy, man. I’m glad. You deserve it.” I nod back, acknowledging his sentiment. “Bring her to dinner on Sunday. Surprise Mom. She’ll be ecstatic.”

  “What about the baby issue? Can I really introduce Mom to a girl with a possible paternity issue hanging over me?”

  “Don’t tell her,” he says. “You can’t say anything until you know for sure. The storm of drama you’d open up would be unreal. Much better to have her meet Heather and save the other ’til you have proof.”

  I nod. “You’re right. I’ll ask Heather over for dinner. Mom will love meeting her.”

  They look at the rest of the pictures, commenting more on the scenery and building shots than the others.

  “They’re impressive, man,” Vinnie says. “She’s got talent.”

  “Good thing your face is cut out of these.” Gino is examining one of me on the chaise. “Not that it sounds like you care either way. Did you print these for a showing?”

  “As in a gallery?” I respond. Now that he says it, I realize it’s a great idea. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Vinnie adds his opinion. “Yeah, they are definitely artsy enough for a gallery.” He snorts. “Assuming the place will show half-naked, aroused men.”

  “You guys gave me a great idea. I think I’ll call an old friend later. Now did the two of you come over for any reason other than to bust my balls over the baby? Don’t you guys have jobs?”

  “We came specifically to harass you. Now that you’re unemployed and all.” Gino just smiles. “That’s the joy and curse of retail. Mornings off, work late.”

  Vinnie picks up a print of a bridge leading into New York. “I’m on my way into the restaurant from here. Hey, can I take this one for the bar? The black and white is really classy.”

  “I need to ask Heather first.” Impulsively I grab a large envelope and slip it in. “You know what? I don’t think she’ll mind. Take it and if she says no I’ll call you to take it down. Sound good?” I’m eager to push the two out the door so I can make a few phone calls and print more shots.

  It takes another twenty minutes or so, but soon I’m alone again. I grab my cell and call the friend I mentioned, the one who owns a small gallery in mid-town.

  As luck would have it, the gallery isn’t showing anyone this weekend. Something about a botched delivery and a last minute cancellation. My friend wants to see what I’ve got, so I email a few dozen pics.

  Immediately I get a call back to messenger over forty of the best pictures from the files on hand. He’d like to have them framed and up for a preview for the other gallery owners tomorrow. If things work out like I hope, this could be the best surprise I’ve planned for Heather yet.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Heather

  “Hey, Heather,” Jimmy calls from my office doorway.

  It’s late in the day and now I regret stopping here after catching an earlier train back from Philly. Should have just gone straight home. Idiot.

  “Hi, Jimmy. What do you want?”

  He tsks at me while stepping into my office. “Now that’s no way to talk to a man. You should try for amiable and polite.”

  And you should fuck off and die. I somehow restrain the words busting to spew out. “I don’t have time for your games. Do you need something or not?”

  He grins, small and secretive, before glancing over his shoulder quickly. “I think I need you back on your knees, Heather. That always was your best position.”

  Fear lances through me at his boldness. Who says such shit at work? “Geez, cut it out, Jimmy. I’ve got no qualms about reporting your ass to HR for harassment.”

  He backs away, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just kidding, doll face. Since when did you lose your sense of humor?”

  “Right when you started working here. What gives? Why did you take the job anyway?”

  He shrugs and steps back. “When life offers me a challenge, I take it.”

  What a prick. At my stare he leaves, obviously he wasn’t here for any other reason than to rile me up.

  A little while later, right before quitting time, squeals of delight come from the cubicles in front of my office door. Hoping I didn’t mess up and miss contributing for someone’s birthday cake in the office, I poke my head out to investigate. A huge bouquet sits on Tammy’s desk, and she’s grinning ear from ear.

  Dread settles in my stomach. Jimmy did the exact same thing with me. A dinner, then flowers, all strategically done as a weekend approaches. More than likely he’s going to ask her out tomorrow or Friday for drinks and then the rest will be history.

  I hesitate, unsure if I should say anything, especially here and now in the middle of her happiness, in front of the whole office. God, I’m a wimp for not saying anything sooner. I glance up and see Jimmy watching me from across the office. There’s a cold and calculating expression darkening his face. What I wouldn’t give for Tammy to turn and see it all on her own.

  But no. She’s too busy sniffing the roses and grinning while she re-reads the card over and over again.

  Anger and frustration boils up and over, propelling me down the hall, no direction in mind. I need to get this crap out of my system. What I also need, is to let sleeping dogs lie and leave his shit behind me. She’s a grown woman, she’s free to make her own mistakes.

  Footsteps sound behind me as I approach one of the empty conference rooms. “Jealous?” Jimmy’s voice rasps softly. A strong hand wraps around my elbow as he steps up beside me. I glance up as I’m propelled toward the open door, to see an unsmiling Jimmy escorting me inside.

  I jerk my arm out of his hold and slam on the lights. Fear bubbles below the surface as I see him shut the door behind us, until I realize shapes of our co-workers are visible through the frosted glass next to the doors. I’m safe. I can scream if he tries anything. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I’m not jealous.”

  A confidant, cocky smile rests on his smug face. “Really? You sure as hell looked like you were a moment ago.”

  “You’re delusional. That was anger at myself you saw—over my indecision. Whether or not I should say anything to Tammy about you.”

  “And what would you say?” He steps closer, reaching out to touch me, but drawing back at the last moment. “Do you want everyone to know we dated and you were bad in bed?”

  “God no. That would be hell. Maybe I’ll tell everyone you’re a womanizing bastard. That might put a crimp in your style.”

  “And who would believe you? I’d make sure you looked like a jealous ex now that everyone knows I’m dating your assistant.” His look turns calculating, like he’s taking my measure. “Or maybe you’d go another route, and tell Tammy how I pushed you to your knees? Or how much you enjoyed choking on my cock?”

  My eyes dart nervously to the door. I reach out and grasp the handle, not liking where this conversation is going. “Why would I tell anyone that? I never liked when you insisted and got forceful. Who the hell would?”

  He shrugs, seeming not to notice how tense I am or that I’m about to bolt back into the hall. “You’d be surprised what some ladies like. You didn’t complain at the time.”

  “There’s a lot I didn’t know back then. I’ve grown a lot. Changed. Realized I don’t need to be a doormat to keep a man.”

  A dark look crosses his face. “You have changed, Heather. Finally grew
a back bone.”

  Deciding I’ve had enough from him, I open the door, my heart racing in my chest. His voice trails after me as I escape, “As long as you keep your mouth shut we won’t have any problems.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? Does he think this is some game we’re playing? I stomp down the hall, fear and anger mixing for dominance in my body. Good God, he’s freakin’ crazy. The best thing I can do is avoid him. And not engage in future conversations, obviously.

  Should I say anything to my bosses? What proof do I have? Is it sexual harassment when I just feel harassed? Then again, the shit he said about getting me on my knees should definitely qualify for sexual harassment.

  I scamper back to my office and close the door before sinking into the chair behind my desk. Sweat trickles down my back, plastering the fabric of my blouse to my spine, leaving a sticky unclean feeling behind. I take a few deep breaths to calm my heart. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. I can handle a slime ball like him.

  How? How do you intend to keep the upper hand with a creep like that?

  What the hell should I do? Maybe if he tries something again I could record him.

  Yeah, that’ll work. Because all you’d have to do is casually ask him to wait while you unobtrusively set your cell phone to record. Idiot.

  The only way such a plan would work is if I turned on my cell ahead of time and deliberately set out to put myself in a situation where he could approach me and spew some of his craziness. Which sounds really unsafe. Not to mention dangerous. Like out of a kidnap-and-kill type of movie scenario.

  I can’t believe I ever slept with such an asshole. Was I that desperate? Or was it more that it all happened so slowly? I never noticed the cruel edge to him when we had sex, the desperation, not until I felt uncomfortable with his pressure and stopped enjoying what we were doing. That’s about the time when the texting and late night phone calls started—maybe two months into our relationship.

  By the time I caught him cheating, I had lost all sense of self. If I’m honest, I was a shadow of a woman. I think about the give and take of power in what I have with Tony. Sure, we may be hitting a rough patch right now, but I still don’t feel like he’s trying to dominate me or make me submit to his will, like Jimmy did.

  Does Jimmy think the way he treats women is normal and acceptable? Have too many women read BDSM erotic romance books and fantasized about a dominant man who takes what he wants when he wants, no matter what? Could such a woman become caught up in the sexual moment and be unaware of what’s really going on in the creep’s head until it’s too late? Is that, in a way, what happened to me? Did I want love so badly I was willing to be treated poorly to get it?

  I lean my head down on the edge of my desk, on crossed arms, and stare at the carpet. Thinking about what I went through at the end with Jimmy makes me nauseous. I pull in a deep breath, hoping to calm the queasiness.

  Love is about equality, not about one person loving more than the other or the stronger bending the weaker to their will. Sure, there’s the weird times we’ve all experienced in relationships—the awkward beginnings, or when we’re all afraid to be the first to declare our feelings, and then there’s the uncertainty of perhaps loving someone who doesn’t love you back… but that’s more new relationship stuff.

  With time spent should come trust. Trust I thought I had with Jimmy, but was too stupid to realize was simply him controlling me. Ready to shake off the poison from my encounter with the bastard, I rise and stretch, tensing and releasing my muscles one by one. I need to get him out of my head.

  I am in a healthy relationship. Tony and I may play with spanking and tying each other up, or even with ordering the other around sexually, but it’s never about dominating and all about sexual exploration—something that can only be done with someone you trust. I am with a man who wants me for me, not one who wants to own me. There is a difference and I feel sorry for the women in bad relationships who can’t tell what’s healthy and what isn’t.

  Should I call Carla? Even though we clashed a bit when Tony and I first started dating, she’s been a good friend for years and always tries to help with advice. She was there for me when it counted with Jimmy, too.

  Okay, none of this rambling has helped me make a decision. Free of the urge to vomit I can suddenly think clearer. A decision that’s obvious—and right in front of me—and very hard to do. One I can practically hear Carla screaming in my mind.

  I need to do what so many women are afraid of. I have to go to the Human Resources department and lay everything on the line. I check the clock; it’s quarter to five. They probably won’t appreciate me dumping something this heavy on them at the end of the day, but I’ve got to do it. Before I back out and second guess myself as I’ve done before when a situation is difficult.

  I straighten my spine and take a deep breath. Fear bubbles in my gut, tightens my stomach muscles, and makes me shake. I can do this. I walk out of my office, head held high, and make my way to HR.

  I knock on Mrs. Stephenson’s door and she waves me in with a welcoming smile.

  By the time I’m done spilling my guts, I feel strangely empowered and absolved of guilt. A few times in the beginning I almost cried, but I forced the tears down and stuck to the facts. The result was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders.

  It had to be done. The company paid out thousands to settle two very bad sexual harassment suits a few weeks ago with two other salesmen no longer with the company. I heard slimy details that implied what the four women went through was much worse than what I’ve experienced. Mrs. Stephenson assured me if those ladies had come to her earlier, things never would have gotten as bad as they did, resulting in therapy and law suits.

  It’s after six when I leave her office and I’m glad she didn’t mind staying to hear me out and take down all my concerns. Heads will roll tomorrow, figuratively if not literally, starting with a long talk with Jimmy’s boss. I don’t know if my ex will lose his job, and frankly, I don’t care.

  That bastard deserves everything he gets.

  Smiling, feeling better than I have all week, I call Tony.

  He answers right away. “Where are you?” I ask, my voice low and sexy.

  “I’m at your place. Got here thirty minutes ago, hoping to meet you from Philly. What happened?”

  “Got held up at work, but I’m all yours now. And—I have plans.”

  “Do you, now?” I hear the interest in his voice. “I’m intrigued.”

  “I’d prefer you naked. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”

  He chuckles, a hint of confidence and anticipation in the sound, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tony

  For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking forward to talking to a woman. And I don’t mean casual conversation, either. That’s always easy. Or dirty talk. Also easy.

  I mean like one of those times when they sit you down to talk to you like you’re insensitive, or stupid. Yeah, like that. Only this time it’s good. About this whole baby thing. About how shitty I acted in the beginning… all of it. And hopefully she’ll find it somewhere in her heart to hear me out.

  I’m not averse to begging if I have to. Although, we did end things well on the phone last night so that might not be an issue.

  Heather bursts through the front door, full of energy. The gleam in her eye looks faintly animalistic. I grin in anticipation. Looks like someone got themselves worked up into a sexy tizzy on the way home. My cock stirs in my pants at the mere thought. Down boy. She may want to talk first.

  “Go to the bedroom and take off your clothes.”

  “So, we’ll talk later?”

  She grabs my face and kisses me, hard. “Later would be best. Do you mind?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Good.” She smacks my ass, a brazen smile on her face. “Go do as you’re told.”

  I smile, uncaring that our talk will happen later rather than sooner. “
Yes, ma’am.” She wants to play first, who am I to complain? In my mind, it re-enforces we’re going to work things out. She wouldn’t be raring to tear off my clothes if she was mad enough to end things with me.

  I stride down the hall, doing my best to rein in my own eagerness so she doesn’t laugh at me. In a flash, I strip off my clothes and dive onto the big bed. My burgeoning erection strains toward my belly, growing harder by the second.

  Heather struts, there’s no other word for it, toward me, working her hips for all she’s got. “I did it,” she says casually, while detouring toward her dresser.

  “Good for you,” I say enthusiastically. I pat the bed sheet beside me. “Come join me.”

  She laughs, the sound full of confidence and promise. “Don’t you even want to know what I did?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Heather reaches into a drawer and removes several silk scarves and a vibrator. Hmm… I wonder what she has in mind. She turns back to me with a devilish grin. “Lay down and spread your arms. Place your ankles about a foot apart.”

  “Uh… Okay.” I comply, still not sure where this is going. She’d tell me if she planned on shoving that vibrator into me, right? I’m sure she would.

  Slim hands wrap a scarf around my wrist and tie a knot. Next, she reaches past the corner of the mattress and secures the fabric, tying me in place.

  “So… what happened at work? You were going to tell me what you did.”

  “Why yes, my dear man. I am going to tell you.” She giggles while securing my ankle in the same fashion. “That ex I told you about at work?”

  “Uh-huh. Jimmy?”

  She nods. “I reported him to Human Resources. Not going to let him make trouble for me at work.”

  I try to sit up on the bed, hampered partially by the bond on one wrist. “Hold up now. What happened? Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  She shrugs and moves on to my other ankle. “It wasn’t anything concrete I could put my finger on until today. Just a creepy feeling whenever he was near. But late this afternoon at work, he crossed a line. And I resisted the desire to run away, thanks in part to you, and shoved him back to the other side.”