Double-Crossed

by Barbra Novac

  A glare of stone moved into Joe's gaze, and he took a step back. Without self-consciousness, he looked at Marianne, up and down, as if she were the prize heifer in a show, the expression in his eyes telling her she'd lost her chance to appeal to his warmth.

  “I'm not in the mood for games,” he said as his eyes lingered on her breasts. “I've asked you here for one reason and one reason only.”

  He turned and walked behind his desk.

  “Sit,” he said to her.

  Marianne rotated just in time to see Don move a chair hard into her legs. She sat heavily on it, giving him a scowl as she turned back to face Joe.

  “Okay,” she said. “Why all the mystery? What's this about?”

  Joe looked hard at her from behind his desk for a long minute, the steel in his eyes eventually dissolving into a twisted smile. Joe wanted something. Something big. The confidence in his cagey attitude told her more than his words. Marianne started to wish she'd never come here.

  “I believe, little one, we need to be married.”

  * * *

  Peter had stepped into the observation room just in time. She'd almost seen him.

  Reaching for the intercom mounted on the wall below the mirror, Peter pressed the On button. The small, dark booth flooded with sound from the other room.

  Listening to the entire conversation with Joe didn't fill him with confidence. Joe had assured Peter that controlling Marianne would be a breeze. It sure wasn't coming across that way at this point. Joe's clumsiness made him seem like a fool, and Marianne orchestrated that image.

  “I think, little one, that we need to be married.”

  As soon as the words landed, Peter's eyes turned to the woman sitting in the chair opposite, wondering what she would say in reply. She stared at Joe. Clearly, she couldn't believe he'd asked her this. Joe watched her intently; even that creepy guy, Don, gaped at her. Peter stared, aware all three men hung on her every word at that moment.

  “You have got to be joking,” she said with an even voice. Her tone surprised Peter; he looked harder at her. She wasn't shocked, or flattered. She eyed Joe with suspicion. This wasn't the answer Joe said he would receive. She's smart, Peter thought as he studied her. She is smart.

  “Baby! Isn't that what you wanted? You left me because of all the other women. If we're married, then you have me. You would have everything that you want.”

  Peter slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. Man, this guy is dumb!

  “You can't seriously think I would marry you,” he heard Marianne reply. “To be frank, I know that you don't want to marry me. You loved me once, in your own way, but I'm in my thirties now. Older women… How do I say this? They just don't do it for you, Joe. No, there has to be some other reason for you to say this to me. So come on, out with it. What's really going on? Why would you want me to be your wife?”

  Her answer impressed Peter. She had Joe's number immediately. Joe had convinced Peter that she'd jump at the possibility of marriage, an arrangement specifically designed to solve their little problem. However, looking at her now, with her long blonde hair and her feisty attitude, Peter couldn't help but be impressed. Her attitude, so on the ball, suddenly made this woman mighty interesting trouble.

  “Honey, I miss you, and you taught me a lesson in these last few months. I realize now what I lost.”

  Frustrated, Peter turned toward Joe. This was the problem with having a meathead to work with. Joe couldn't even tell when to change tactics. Peter glanced at Marianne, noticing her watch Joe carefully. She stood up and moved toward the desk. Peter couldn't help dropping his sight to her body for a moment. Her form smoldered behind those clothes. Her short frame emphasized the large, swelling breasts and the tiny waist that nipped in tight. Peter realized that in another time, in another place, he would harbor great desire for this woman. An indefinable quality mesmerized him. A delicious combination of a certain sort of innocence and the streetwise knowing that came from deep experience. Peter found himself fascinated.

  She leaned over the desk facing Joe, and Peter saw Joe's eyes dart immediately down the top of her shirt.

  “Joe, you've got to know by now that this isn't going to work. I'm not going to marry you. So you're just going to have to tell me more, to see if we can work out another way that I might be able to help you.”

  Joe openly stared down her top now, and Peter cringed behind the glass. Joe was going to tell her everything, Peter could feel it, and they would lose their trump card. They still had a measure of control over her if they kept her ignorant. She didn't know how much power she had over Joe now. Peter glanced at Don and noticed that, even under the scarring, his red, papery face had gone white. He knew it too. This woman had Joe by the balls, and he would 'fess up any minute.

  “I'm being prosecuted by the state for tax evasion, and you were my bookkeeper through the period they're assessing. If you marry me, you can't testify.” There it is. He'd spilled it all.

  Peter watched as she stood, turned on her heel, and walked back to the chair. When she sat down, the grin from ear to ear indicated she saw everything clearly.

  “Seems I have a bit of power over you right now, doesn't it?”

  Don leaped from his chair. He moved over to where she sat and grabbed her hands, holding them tight behind her.

  “Just give me the order, boss. Just tell me to do it, and this trouble ain't never coming back into your life.”

  Horrified, Peter's fists clenched automatically. If this continued, he'd have to step out of his hiding place and reveal himself.

  Joe surprised Peter by seizing immediate control of the situation. He stared into Marianne's eyes from where he sat and spoke in a calm, even voice.

  “Let her go, Don. She's not going to hurt us.”

  Don removed his grasp and moved back to his seat. During all of this, Marianne had barely flinched.

  She's brave; I'll give her that, Peter thought. Joe spoke again.

  “Yes, little one. Currently, you do have power over me. I don't want you to testify. I don't even want them to be able to talk to you.” Joe took a deep breath. “I'm not the fool everyone thinks I am, Marianne.” At that point, he glanced toward Peter behind the mirror. “If you won't marry me, I am willing to offer you complete freedom from me if we can work together to get rid of this little problem. If you work with my defense, they will know what to do.”

  Marianne looked astonished. This time, Joe appeared to have it right.

  “Really? You'd let me go? Properly? I wouldn't have to wait for your summons? I could live down the road here in the Cross, and you wouldn't try to interfere in my life?”

  “I know that's what you really want, little one,” Joe said with a sigh that almost sounded like regret.

  “Then I'll do it!” Marianne said on the spot. “I'll work with your defense team, and I'll do everything I can to ensure you don't go to jail.”

  Chapter Two

  Peter walked out of the small room into Joe's office; Joe grinned from ear to ear.

  “See. Told you. No problem with that little one.”

  “You must be crazy! How in the hell am I going to ensure she doesn't testify now?”

  “She promised.”

  “She can be subpoenaed. Do you understand? They can force her to testify. This is a federal case. You're in serious trouble here.”

  Joe kept that creepy smile. “I'm not worried. Now that I know she won't be testifying, there is no problem to be had.”

  Peter sensed they each spoke a different language. Something that Joe knew, or something that he supposed he knew, was different from the legal knowledge Peter used as his base. He let out a sigh of frustration.

  “Joe, if I'm going to be your lawyer, we have to be on the same side. I want all the information. Tell me why you're in such a good mood. Either you don't fully understand what's happening to you, or there is something you have up your sleeve that I don't know. So which is it?”

  “Trust me, Peter. You kn
ow everything that is important for the case.” His face changed to a more serious look. “I will get out of this. I know how much trouble I'm in; I'm not as stupid as you suppose. I know they won't be able to use Marianne, and I have reasons for this assumption that are beyond anything you know about.” The stupid grin spread slowly across his face again. “You will have to just trust me, Peter.”

  Irritated, Peter turned away from Joe and noticed suddenly that the room had significantly changed. Foreboding spread through Peter's body from his belly.

  “Where's Don?” Peter demanded.

  “Not sure. He must have slipped out.” Joe's face held its stupid grin, and Peter swiftly got a very disturbing realization of what could be going on down the street. He stepped forward and grabbed Joe by the shirt collar.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Joe's demand made it clear he wasn't used to having someone treating him with force. His stare darted down his collar and up into Peter's face in a kind of shock.

  “Where the hell did Don go? Is he after Marianne?”

  “Don is out doing his job, just like you should be. Don't worry about Marianne. I told you. I have a strong feeling that she won't be testifying. Now put me down!”

  Peter picked Joe up by his shirt collar and dropped him in his place. “I'll deal with this later,” he said as he ran out the door.

  * * *

  Marianne walked into the night air, feeling weightless, the burden of Joe as part of her future abolished forever. She didn't know what it would take to avoid getting caught up in this legal case, but Joe had played the situation well. He knew she wanted out, and she knew he didn't really want her. Oh, he wanted her in that territorial way that men have when they don't want to give up what's “theirs,” but he didn't want her specifically. No, finally she felt truly free. Like a wild panther escaping a cage, the feeling intoxicated her, driving her pulsing blood.

  Out in the streets, the Cross heated up. The roads filled with partiers. Folk from the suburbs out for the wild fling they expected the Cross could sell on demand.

  Marianne breathed the air, its fire electrifying her from within. Not wanting to go home, she remembered the promise she'd made to herself—a stopover at The Pleasure Chest on her way home. A favorite treat, evening visits were regular, with Saturday night being the easiest night to remain anonymous. One was never as invisible as in a crowd. On a night like this, no one would assume anything of a woman going alone into a sex shop.

  Marianne crossed at the El Alamein Fountain and walked a few paces down to The Pleasure Chest. There were many sex shops at the Cross, but Marianne loved this one most of all. Part of the attraction lay in the owners, Bill and Jen. Over the years, she'd developed a strong friendship with them. Their unusual version of monogamy attracted questioning glances, but Marianne loved the example. Both were bisexual, taking many different lovers, but always together. This created a tremendous bond between them, which evolved into a genuine love, moving past all boundaries into a deeper kind of fidelity. Bill, a smallish, muscle-bound man, with blond hair and the all-year-round tan, had the good looks thing down pat. Fitness and health featured heavily in his daily routine, bordering on obsession. He wasn't Marianne's type, but she knew men at the Cross drooled over him.

  Another deal all together, Jen, perpetually dressed in striking ink-colored clothes, almost looked the part of a goth. She had long hair that she dyed pitch-dark. The exotic look, accentuated by her lanky frame, elicited in her customers an edgy fear that anything could happen in her company. She gave the impression she was a stripe of black imagination, brushed across one's safe reality. Even though she slept with women, she'd never hit on Marianne; neither had Bill. As their friend, Marianne suspected they felt a little protective of her.

  Tonight Jen sat behind the counter alone.

  “Hey, Mary. Nice to see you as always, love. Do you want the usual booth?”

  “Bring it on, Jen! I'm in such a good mood, I feel like celebrating. How's Bill?”

  “Gorgeous. He's at the gym.”

  At the counter, Marianne handed over twenty dollars, while Jen busied herself with collecting ten tokens. Feeling relaxed, perusing the store, Marianne saw a display of erotic outfits for women. Among them sat a dress made of translucent, shimmering silver folded up in a packet. The front cover showed a woman wearing it, her breasts forced forward, and her long legs snaking out from under the hem. Picking up the small wrapper, Marianne wondered what she'd look like in a dress like that.

  “You know, you'd look fabulous in that,” Jen said warmly, unapologetically letting her eyes roam over Marianne's curvaceous frame. “It's one size fits all, because it's really like a stocking, but you, with your nice big tits and tiny waist, would look a real tasty sight.” Jen held out a heavily tattooed arm and took the packet from Marianne. She slid a long red nail under the opening and peeled the dress out from inside. It shimmered and shone in the counter light. Marianne reached her hand into the body of the dress, and the silk-stocking film clung to her arm, feeling deliciously soft.

  “Wow, it's gorgeous.”

  Jen looked at her thoughtfully. “Honey, far be it from me to discourage an excellent customer, but don't you suppose a real man would be better than these skin flicks? I mean, don't get me wrong. I like a little pornography as much as the next healthy girl, but now that you've left Joe and gotten yourself out of that sleaze, maybe it's time to find yourself a flesh-and-blood man?”

  “I don't know. I may not be the nice-guy type. I have a history, and there's nothing conventional about it.”

  “Babe, a good man will want you, regardless. He'll love who you are without worrying about who you should be. Take my Bill. I'm hardly an easy woman to love.”

  Marianne looked at the raven-haired beauty, tattooed down each arm, long, thick plait reaching past her shiny, latex-covered ass. She laughed.

  “I guess you're proof that a man can be open-minded. But how many Bills are there in the world? And how on Earth am I supposed to find one?” With that, she took her tokens and headed toward the end of the store. Walking past vibrators and blow-up dolls, Marianne felt struck by what Jen said.

  Maybe there is something wrong with me, she couldn't help thinking. What kind of woman likes to come and do this sort of thing as a treat?

  The shop bustled, not being too overcrowded. On a Saturday night, Darlinghurst Road made room for folk who were not used to the Cross. There were many couples, a few men alone, and some women in groups, giggling self-consciously. All very user-friendly. Marianne headed for the large black door at the back of the store. Without hesitating, she pulled it open and stepped through.

  A row of nine small, white booths faced her. Driven by habit, she went directly for booth seven. Her usual one, it had the selection of films she preferred. She caught the eye of a man stepping out of one of the other booths, who immediately reversed, closing the door behind him. It was tough on the guys. Seeing a woman in there filled them with panic and desire at the same time. What could she want? It was all so very confusing. Better to get straight to her booth and make sure she didn't bother any of the other customers who'd come for a discreet few minutes alone. Inside the booth a shelf with a box of tissues jutted out of the wall, a bin for used tissues sat on the floor, and a small chair made up the creature comforts. A little TV screen sat on the wall in front. All the booths had double cladding to be soundproof. As a bit of a precaution, Marianne always laid several tissues over the small chair. You never know who's been in before you, she reminded herself, looking at the bin filled with used tissues.

  Sitting comfortably, she placed one of the four tokens into the slot next to the screen and up popped a menu. She had a choice of four of her favorites: FLESHPOINT, PIRATES, THE NEW NEIGHBORS, and THEY CUM FROM OUTER SPACE.

  Marianne loved this selection. Prudish she wasn't, but these were women-friendly pornographic films. They had a little girl on girl, a little group sex, but most of all, plenty of hot, hunky men getting
it on with gorgeous women. She clicked the button adjoining Fleshpoint. Tonight, it just had to be a fireman!

  The scene selection popped up first. Ten tokens gave her twenty minutes. She didn't have a vibrator with her (she usually liked to have one in her handbag, for emergencies), so tonight she'd have to use her faithful fingers.

  Knowing she had time for two scenes, she divided them into the warm-up scene and the coming scene. She had no doubt about the one that would make her come; that'd be the regular favorite in this flick. However, to warm her up, there were several nice choices. Marianne finally settled on a girl-girl scene at the end of the film. One of those scenes was guaranteed to get a girl hot and bothered no matter how many times she'd seen it. After selecting, she eased back on the chair and got comfortable.

  It opened with two women, Cindy and Jordan, eating dinner in a restaurant. The women were Barbie types, stereotypically gorgeous and made for sex. They both had long blonde hair and wore tight dresses, one in pink and one in blue. The dresses hid very little, and both the women had tense, erect nipples extending deliciously from the curves of their large breasts. Flirting brazenly, they performed for the camera, teasing and titillating each other. Shamelessly, they turned each other on, despite being in a crowded restaurant.

  In an entirely intentional move, Jordan dropped her napkin on the floor, and feigning surprise, fell to her knees to pick it up. Under the table, she had a flawless view of her mate's shapely legs. Kissing an ankle, she slid her tongue seductively up the inner calf, knee, and thigh until her head buried itself between Cindy's legs.

  “Mmm…” Cindy moaned.

  Marianne felt her soft, damp opening ache as she could see the back of the blonde head bobbing while it performed its luscious ministrations.

  Above the table, the moans drew attention, causing Cindy embarrassment, so she encouraged her lover on the carpet to get up and return to her seat. Driven feral with lust, Jordan refused and went on drinking the wild, flowing juice of the pussy.