by Donna Jay
The woman, Shelley according to her nametag, flicked through the rack and held up two bras. “Here you go. Follow me.”
Unable to come up with an excuse not to, other than that she was stalking the woman’s boss, Simone followed.
“How long since you’ve had a fitting?”
The answer came without thought. “Never.” She didn’t need a sales assistant to tell her if a bra was comfortable or not. The last time that she’d let that happened had been horrifying enough.
“Once.” She corrected herself as the memory of being twelve years old and crammed between her mother and a saleswoman old enough to be her grandmother came crashing back to her. The embarrassment of that one experience had been enough to put her off ever having a bra fitting again.
“Let me guess, that was a long time ago.”
“Correct.” She took the selection out of Shelley’s hands and entered the changing room. The sooner she was in and out, the sooner she had a chance of seeing Nadia.
She flicked the straps off the thin, plastic coat hanger, unclipped the back and realised the straps were way too short? Why did they always do that? Irritation prickled under her skin as she lengthened the straps.
Cool air breezed across her sternum as she pulled her blouse over her head. She dumped it on the chair in the corner and straightened her glasses.
Just as she removed her bra, a voice sounded through the wooden door.
“You okay in there?”
She would know that husky timbre anywhere. Nadia was on the other side. Her heart fluttered, her mind raced, and her mouth refused to open.
“Let me know if you need any help.”
Simone stared at herself in the mirror. Did she need help? Was she bold enough to open the door with her breasts on display? No, she wasn’t that brazen.
After quickly pulling on the bra, she adjusted her breasts, stuffing them in and hiking up the lacy trim. “Umm, I’m not sure about the sizing.”
“May I come in?”
Yes, please. Please bury your fingers deep inside me.
“Yes,” she replied, pleased her voice didn’t betray her thoughts.
Would Nadia cup her breasts and lavish attention on them, or shove her up against the wall and press her thigh between Simone’s legs?
The changing room door inched open.
When their eyes locked, Simone broke out in a wide grin. “Hi.”
“Hi. Let’s see what the issue is.” Nadia stepped behind Simone and adjusted the bra straps, looking at her in the reflection of the mirror.
She pulled, and Simone felt the weight of her breasts rise and fall. Her eyes drifted closed as she imagined Nadia’s hands snaking around her and cupping the lace-trimmed bra.
“There, that looks better, doesn’t it?” Her tone was all business, her expression neutral. Not a spark of desire to be seen in the deep blue depths.
“Don’t you remember me?”
“Of course.” Nadia unclasped the back strap and pulled it tighter. “How does that feel now?” She met Simone’s gaze in the mirror, her expression unmoving.
“Better.” Simone forced a smile to hide her disappointment.
Why was Nadia being so cold? Had Simone read the situation wrong? One way to find out.
She unhooked the bra and handed it over. Her nipples pebbled when Nadia sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll take this, please.”
“Wonderful. I’ll leave you to get dressed.” With that, Nadia was gone.
Anger and humiliation tore through Simone. Like a sullen child, she picked up her blouse and tossed it at the door. It fell to the floor along with her ego.
A second later, she picked both up. If Nadia wanted to play games, Simone wasn’t interested. Renee had been enough of a head trip. Hot one minute cold the next.
By the time she reached the counter, her blood had gone from boiling to simmering and Nadia was nowhere to be seen.
Fucking coward.
The shop assistant, Shelley, greeted her at the counter. “Will that be all for today?”
“Yes, thank you.” Simone fished in her handbag as the woman rang up her purchase.
“Do you have a loyalty card?”
If Nadia had asked her that, Simone would’ve scoffed.
“No, sorry.”
“No problem. It’ll only take a minute to sign you up.” Shelley paused, fingers poised on the keypad under the glass countertop. “Name?”
“Simone.” At the same time as she said her name, Nadia appeared from out of nowhere. She waved to someone and turned her big blue eyes on Simone.
Still irritated by Nadia’s dismissal, Simone faced her head on. “What does a loyalty card get me?”
“Discounts and special offers.”
The temptation to ask what kind of special offers was on the tip of her tongue. The way the sales assistant was eyeing her curiously made her think better of it.
Besides, she knew how loyalty cards worked. She wouldn’t make it as far as the front doors before the first email hit her inbox and got sucked into the vortex of spam.
“I’ll pass.”
Nadia raised an eyebrow. “Your call.”
It sounded like a question, and Simone would’ve given anything to know what she was thinking. Had Simone just passed up an unspoken offer?
She shook her head at the ridiculous thought. Nadia had shut her down the minute she stepped into the changing room, leaving her intoxicating scent behind.
“That’ll be just fifty dollars today,” Shelley said.
Just?
Simone’s eyebrows shot up. She’d paid more than that for a bra before, but she could have sworn this one was from the half-price rack. “Expensive bra.”
“Expensive taste?” Nadia’s gaze travelled over her body.
“I like nice things,” Simone said, feeling defensive. If she wanted to spend her money on top-of-the-line clothes that was her prerogative.
“Well, you’re in the right place.” Nadia held her gaze.
“Am I?” Simone refused to break eye contact even though her heart was thundering in her chest.
Shelley scrunched up her face, looking from one to the other. “You two know each other?”
“Nope.” Simone took her receipt and walked out the door, head held high, dignity intact. Fuck Nadia and her head games.
Perhaps Hamish had been wrong and it wasn’t Nadia who came into the store. But it was. It had to be. There couldn’t be two women with the same name managing Carson’s Boutique.
So what had she been doing? If it was to seek out Simone, to lead her to her proverbial doorstep, why had she been so cold?
Chapter 6
Nadia
Nadia watched Simone walk out of the store, head held high, and her respect for her grew tenfold. Followed closely by self-loathing.
She watched her like the one that got away, and she had no one to blame but herself.
Twice, she’d royally screwed up. The first time because she’d got in over her head, never expecting to fall for the woman’s icy blue gaze begging for a dominant woman to shower her with attention and thaw her heart.
What was her story? Had someone done a number on her and work was her escape, or was she truly married to her job? Nadia would bet it was the former. But she’d just blown her second chance of finding out.
She’d thought she’d been so clever, leaving clues to lead her to her store. Until she turned up, and everything went to shit in a handbasket.
The second she’d locked eyes with Simone in the changing room, gorgeous breasts taunting her, she saw the stupidity of her plan.
She was in a position of trust. One where she was often left alone with women, naked and vulnerable.
It was drilled into her staff from the first interview to act professional at all times. If she got even a hint of one of them inappropriately touching a client they would be out the door faster than they could say vegemite.
Having Simone so close yet out of reach, all that creamy flesh o
n display had been exquisite torture.
The poor woman must be confused as hell. Problem was, how was Nadia going to explain her way out of the mess she’d made.
Hey, it was okay to hit on you while I was a cleaner, because, you see, I’m not actually a cleaner. But this boutique, it’s my livelihood. Sorry if I fucked with yours. If it makes you feel any better, it fucked with mine too.
She couldn’t say any of those things because she still didn’t have a number. When she’d given her name for the loyalty club, Nadia had done a happy dance.
She waited with bated breath, another two minutes and she would have an email and phone number.
Then, Simone had made innuendos about special offers, and left without signing up. Maybe a smile would’ve helped or an apology when they were alone in the changing room.
Wasn’t hindsight a great thing?
Working with what little she had, Nadia used the excuse she had bookwork to do and stepped into the small office at the back of the shop.
She hit Google and dialled the first business listed under florists. She didn’t intend to grovel, but she could make amends.
***
That night, Simone did what she always did when she had no control over her personal life; immersed herself in bookwork.
Nine o’clock rolled around and she finally logged off. Her eyes felt gritty and her mood wasn’t much better.
As determined as she was to exorcise Nadia from her thoughts, she refused to vacate her mind. She might as well have been standing before her. Or better yet, massaging her shoulders. The memory of deft hands kneading tense muscles sent a tingle up her spine.
“Stop it, Emmett.” She stood, disgusted with herself. Pining for someone she couldn’t have was an exercise in futility.
At eleven that night, after a hot shower and something to eat, Simone checked her social media accounts.
Most of it was rubbish, but a few jokes made her laugh. Feeling brighter, she flicked off the television and headed to bed.
The following morning, she awoke feeling hungover despite not having a drop to drink. The minute she’d closed her eyes, she’d been plunged into the middle of an erotic dream.
As she climbed out of bed, she hardened her resolve to exorcise Nadia from her mind. A day of going over the financials, making sure figures added up, would do the trick.
Great, now she was thinking about figures. Well, a certain lithe body that had plagued her dreams.
It’d just gone ten when Alex tapped on the office door. “Delivery for you.”
In the middle of balancing the expense account, Simone waved her off. “Can’t you sign for it?”
“I’d love to, but that wouldn’t be right.” She looked like she was about to swoon.
The door opened wider and a delivery man stepped in, a bouquet of flowers obscuring his features.
What the hell? No one sent Simone flowers.
“Where would you like these?”
Beyond intrigued, but determined to play it cool, she pointed to the corner of her desk. “There will be fine. Do I need to sign anything?”
“No, Ma’am.” The delivery dude turned and was gone as fast as he appeared.
Alex lingered in the doorway.
“Was there something else?” Simone asked.
“No.” She shook her head.
The second Simone was alone, she lunged for the envelope stapled to the yellow and purple wrapping paper.
The heady fragrance of a dozen white roses invaded her nostrils, the scent so familiar Simone knew who they were from before she tore open the card.
Sorry. Call me. N.
Nadia’s phone number underlined her pitiful note.
Sorry. Sorry for what? Making Simone look like an idiot? For seducing her and running out?
Well, fuck Nadia.
Simone had been played once, twice if she thought about it too hard, and she wouldn’t be played again.
Clenching her jaw until her teeth hurt, she screwed up the note and tossed it in the rubbish bin.
“There.” She dusted her hands.
A knock on the office door drew her attention, but she couldn’t make out who was there. Irritated, she pushed the bouquet of flowers to the other side of her desk.
“Yes?”
Leisa stood in the doorway. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” Simone pointed to the chair in front of her desk. She could do with the distraction.
“Here’s the overdue debtor’s list.” Leisa ran her finger down the page. “I think we need to send these three to the debt collectors.”
“Have you followed the process with all three?”
Generally, by the time they got to the third overdue letter demanding payment within seven days or risk court proceedings, the client had at least made an effort to pay their account, even if that meant in monthly instalments.
“Yes. Snail mail, email, and phone calls.”
“Well done, leave them with me.”
Leisa stood, her gaze on the flowers. “Girlfriend?”
“No!” Simone said a little too loudly.
Unfazed, Leisa quirked an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”
A snort huffed out of Simone. Leisa had a way of lowering her defences while also respecting the boss-employee relationship. At least as far as work went.
When it came to happy hour, which often went a lot longer than an hour, it was a different story. They were just a group of friends enjoying a drink.
Simone had told work colleagues long ago she was gay, namely so they would stop trying to hook her up with guys.
Leisa pointed to the flowers with her pen. “Whoever sent them must care about you a lot.” She glanced at the bouquet then back at Simone. “Did you know white roses are traditionally associated with new beginnings and marriage?”
“No, I did not.” She doubted Nadia did either or she would’ve picked a different colour. Or did she, and this was her way of saying can we start over?
The second Leisa stepped out of the office, Simone scrambled for the rubbish bin. She retrieved the note and smoothed it out.
Before she could second guess herself, she pulled out her cell phone and added Nadia as a contact, then she got back to work. It was Nadia’s turn to wait and wonder.
Let her wonder if Simone had cut the heads off every rose, or inhaled the heady aroma filling her office and working its way beneath her coat of armour.
***
As soon as she got home that night, Simone phoned Leah.
“Hey, tart.”
“I’m not a tart.”
“Shame. I could live vicariously through you.”
“Since when have you been interested in lesbian sex?”
“I don’t need the deets. But please tell me you’ve met with the cleaner and she’s up for the challenge.”
What the hell did that mean?
She’d never told Leah she got off on being ordered to her knees. If she ever found out, Simone would die from embarrassment.
Then again, perhaps Leah and Brad were into kink, too. Although, she couldn’t imagine Leah being ordered to do anything. Not that that was saying much. Not many people would pick Simone for the type to submit to another.
“Hello?”
Leah’s voice pulled her out of her head. “Sorry, I was just pouring a glass of wine.” She tucked the phone under her ear and did just that.
Bubbles fizzed and jumped over the rim. She closed her eyes, practically able to taste the white flowery notes with a hint of dried apricot.
Her mind flicked to the bouquet sitting on her desk. It would look beautiful as a centre piece on her unused dining room table. But considering she spent more waking hours at work than home, she’d left them behind.
“What did you mean by challenge?” She flopped onto the sofa.
“Cleaning out the cobwebs.” Leah chuckled.
“Hardy har har. Toys help keep the pipes clean.” Did she really just say that? Yep, she did. When it came to Leah, she could
give as good as she got.
“No shit.” Her pitch rose. “Last week, Brad bought me a rabbit vibe. It’s fucking amazing.”
“What the hell is he buying you toys for? Have you worn him out?” She was only half-joking.
“Of course not. But it doesn’t vibrate.”
Simone screwed her eyes shut. “Not going there.”
“You started it.”
“I’m ending it too.”
“Fine by me. Now give me the dirt. Did you go and see the cleaner-not-cleaner.”
Wine fizzed up the back of Simone’s nose. “Can you be serious for a moment?”
“Sure.”
A pause was followed by a hand muffling the phone. “Hey, babe.” Kissy noises followed.
“Tell Brad I said hi.”
“Simone says hi.”
“Hey, Simone.”
She smiled even though Brad couldn’t see her.
“Now, where were we?” Leah asked.
Deciding to dive right in before they went off on another tangent, Simone gave Leah a rundown of the last two days’ events.
“And then, after treating me like a stranger, she sent me flowers and a note with her phone number.”
“What did the note say?”
“Call me.” Two little words. That was it. No effort at all.
“Did you?”
“No!”
Why not?”
“Didn’t you hear me? She practically ignored me in the store. I felt invisible.”
“Did she try to cop a feel?”
“No.” Simone sighed. “That’s just it, she did nothing.”
“Good!” Leah said with conviction.
“How the fuck is that good?” Simone snapped, feeling frustrated on more than one count.
“Have you stopped to think for even a minute how unethical it would’ve been for her to touch you when you were in her store?”
No, she hadn’t, and Leah made a good point, but Simone wasn’t ready to concede. “She didn’t seem to have a problem coming on to me when she was working as a cleaner.”
“I thought you said she wasn’t a cleaner.”
Simone massaged her temples. “I don’t know what the hell she is.”
That wasn’t entirely true, she was an enigma. Flirty one minute, distant the next. And no matter what persona she adopted, she oozed sex appeal.
