Pretty Dirty Trick: A Rich Bitches Novel

by Kiss, Tabatha

  I glance at my little, black dress. At least I’m not overdressed.

  Or am I?

  “Dom or sub?”

  I flinch at the sudden voice next to me in the corridor. I look up into the shadowed eyes of a man in a gray suit with a bright, blond perm.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “Are you a Dom?” he asks, enunciating. “Or are you a sub?”

  I ease back from his hard, impatient stare. “Neither, currently...”

  His eyes fall from my face, slowly gliding down my body to my strappy heels, and in that moment, he makes up his mind. He turns away and moves on to a tall woman in pink boots sitting in the nearest chair. He very audibly asks her the exact same question.

  “Sub,” she says.

  Once again, he turns and walks off. She shrugs and starts chatting up the girl in the seat beside her again. Guess he didn’t like her answer either.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty, little thing?”

  I spin around and gasp at the hidden face. It’s a man — I think — obscured behind a skin-tight, black latex suit from head-to-toe. I squint, searching for eye holes. How the hell does he see out of that thing?

  “Uh-huh,” I say.

  “I’m Roger. You look familiar but I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

  I shake his hand and he squeezes my fingers. Hard. “Yeah, I’m new,” I say, hoping he doesn’t actually recognize me from somewhere else. There have been plenty of articles published about me in the last few years. I should have thought about that before. I would be walking around here in one of these bodysuits, too.

  “Sweet! I remember my first time here. It can be pretty traumatic for a newcomer.” He laughs like a jolly child. “So, do you work around here?”

  I shift awkwardly, double thinking this whole conversation thing. My eyes drop for a brief moment and I pause at the very obvious erection tenting his suit.

  “Uhh... sorry...” I pause, forgetting his name.

  “Roger,” he says.

  “Roger, would you excuse me? My friend just arrived.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure! No problem!” He steps aside, his suit squeaking. “It was nice to meet you, mystery newbie. Give me a holler later if you’re down to fuck.”

  He walks off, leaving me with a feeling I can only describe as whiplash.

  I blink. “O-okay, I will...”

  Maybe the quiet room isn’t the best place for me. Too much talking going on…

  I take a quick step toward the stairwell. According to Melanie, the second floor is where the magic happens. Open rooms. Spying eyes. Come and watch a few scenes play out, whatever the hell that means.

  I climb the stairs with one hand hovering over the railing. Again, the higher I go the lower the lights dim around me. That low bass music follows me up. It must be piped through a speaker system in the walls.

  I reach the top and swallow hard. It’s more crowded up here but the air is still and quiet. Just a brief whisper here and there. A chuckle or two.

  A loud snap breaks the silence, instantly followed by a deep, guttural moan. It’s a woman hidden somewhere behind this wall of people. I slink in, my petite height allowing me to pass through without so much as an annoyed glance from the others.

  I ease to the front and spot a woman bent over a punishment bench. Both hands and feet are restrained to it with thick bindings. Her dress is ripped in three places, exposing the side of her breasts.

  There’s a man standing over her wearing nothing but a pair of tight leather pants. I spot the long paddle in his hand. He holds it up to her face and her body reacts to it like an animal, cowering and shaking. I crane to see more and I spot the large, red markings on her ass.

  I bite my cheek.

  My first instinct is to do something. She’s hurt, obviously. But no one seems to care. People aren’t speaking in cautious whispers. They’re humming words of encouragement. I look from the man to her and back again as my heart starts racing.

  “This is all you are to me,” the man says to her. “Understand?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  My nails dig deep into my arm.

  He circles the bench and I flinch as he reaches out to her. My thoughts spike, thinking he’s about to strike her or worse, but he lays the back of his hand on her cheek.

  She smiles.

  He leans over to whisper in her ear, something soft and sweet enough to make her cheeks crease. She even laughs. It’s warm and comforting but it only lasts a moment.

  The man stands up again and turns the paddle multiple times in his palm. She braces herself, locking her body in anticipation as he lays the paddle along her ass.

  I almost look away. I’m glad I don’t.

  As the paddle connects with her skin, she cries out with a sharp, quivering voice. I feel it so deep in me, it makes me dizzy. The submission, the pain. She’s lost all control over herself but she still looks so happy.

  I breathe in, biting my lip as goosebumps tread up my back.

  I want to try it.

  Just once. Just to be sure. It might be horrible and terrifying but Melanie has a point. I’ve tried just about everything else and this…

  I release my grip on my arm. My fingers are shaking. I should go back downstairs and find a place to sit down for a minute.

  I turn, easing slowly through the crowd. Those who notice me happily shift to make room as I look to the man in leather again.

  Her Dom. She must trust him completely, or else why would she even let herself be tied down like that?

  Where would I even begin to find a guy like—

  I slam into a body on the edge of the crowd near the stairs.

  “Shit!” I say, looking up. “I’m sorry, I...”

  I freeze, locking eyes with him.

  The man leans back. His eyes quickly grow wide and he recognizes me the same time I do him.

  Clive. The hot temp.

  My fucking employee.

  We both inhale, preparing to speak, but neither of us gets further than that. We just stare, unwittingly blocking the stairwell as we wait for the other to fucking say something.

  Finally, I hop back and scoot around him, clinging to the railing as I bolt down to the first floor. I’m not stopping to chat anymore. I push through the small crowd near the entrance, thinking of nothing but getting the hell out before I run into someone else who knows who I am.

  I am so fucked.

  Six

  Clive

  Nora Payne hasn’t looked at me in two days.

  To be fair, she didn’t do much looking at me around the office anyway but she’s going out of her way to avoid me now.

  Until yesterday, her daily routine was set in stone. She’d get here before nine, pluck around in her office for an hour checking emails and reviewing everyone’s work from the day before. Then, she’d get up and make a slow clock-wise ring around the desks, starting with marketing directly left of her office. Then, she’d check in with the creative team. And human resources. She’d go all the way around until she’d hit accounting, where my temporary desk currently resides.

  Now, all of a sudden, that routine is practically nonexistent. She’d hit all the other places, but she won’t come near accounting. Not even once in two whole days. If she needs something numbers-related, she calls my supervisor, Ali, and Ali goes into Nora’s office.

  I shouldn’t care. I’m not here to make friends with her, but…

  I’ve never seen her at Red Brick before.

  I didn’t even think she’d be the type.

  My type.

  This puts quite the wrinkle in my side hustle. I want to know more about the mystery that is Ms. Nora Payne but I also have to get that client list.

  It’s Wednesday. Alex will be bugging me any time now for an update and I’ve got jack shit in the realm of progress.

  I have to get into her office.

  End of the day will probably be easiest. It’s not unusual for Nora to be the first employee in a
nd the last one out. I just to find the right moment to—

  Where is she going?

  I crane my neck to peek out of my cubicle. Ms. Nora Payne just waltzed out of her office with her briefcase, her purse, and her phone. She shut off the lights and closed the door. She never does that unless she’s leaving for the day but it’s not even five yet.

  I watch her walk from her office toward the elevator. She purposefully takes the scenic route to avoid accounting. My guts twist. She’s literally going out of her way to avoid me but she’s got nothing to worry about. Nothing Red Brick-related, that is…

  I want her to know that.

  I bolt out of my chair and follow her to the elevator. She walks quickly with her head is down, clearly not in the mood to talk to anybody but she’s going to talk to me.

  Nora boards the empty elevator and I pick up my pace to catch up before the doors close and I lose my one chance at a private moment to clear the air.

  I slide a hand between the doors, blocking them from closing and they pop back open again.

  Nora raises her head, looks at me, and her breathing stops.

  I step on, turning to stand beside her and tapping the button to close the doors. She shifts slightly to the left, putting a foot of space between us and I try not to take it personally.

  The doors close and the elevator begins its slow trek down to the ground floor. That gives me about twenty seconds to say what I need to say but that’s not nearly enough time.

  I reach out, hit the stop button, and the elevator crawls to a halt.

  “Ms. Payne,” I say, turning to face her. “Relax.”

  She blinks, her wide eyes staring at me with a mix of nervous fear and shame. “What?”

  “Relax,” I say again. “It’s all right. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Secret?”

  “The Red Brick Road. We saw each other there.”

  She adjusts her purse strap on her shoulder as her cheeks burn a bright pink. “Look, Clive, I don’t think we should talk about this.”

  “Why not?” I shrug, smiling. “So, we’re into BDSM? It’s not a big deal.”

  “I’m not...” Her voice breaks.

  “Nora, it’s okay. Luckily for us, privacy is the most important rule in the community. It’s tighter than Fight Club in there. Believe me. No one’s ever gonna know unless you want them to. I sure as hell won’t say a word.”

  Her shoulders release a bit of tension. “Okay,” she breathes out.

  I lean against the wall, trying to shift the space into something more casual to get her talking. “I never saw you there before,” I say. “First time?”

  “Uh...” She wets her lips. “Yeah, kinda.”

  “What’d you think?”

  A quick laugh twitches her mouth. “A little overwhelming.”

  I nod. “It can be. Dom or sub?”

  She raises her head a little higher. “Is that how you guys shake hands or something?” I laugh. “I swear, I was there for maybe twenty minutes and I heard so many people asking that question.”

  “It narrows the pool a little,” I say. “Lots of folks are there to get down to business and go home.”

  “I could tell.” She squints. “Is that why you were there?”

  “In a way,” I say, being vague.

  “Well, Dom or sub?” she asks.

  I smile. “Dom. You?”

  Nora pauses, her eyes shifting as if we’re being watched but it’s just us in here. “Sub,” she finally answers. “I think.”

  My brow rises. “You don’t say?”

  “Is it that surprising?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it surprises me, too. Honestly, I haven’t… you know. Just sort of learning the rules right now.”

  “Well, it’s a good place to learn.”

  “That’s what I hear.” Her throat clears. “Anyway, I should get going.”

  “Bit early, isn’t it?”

  “I have a... personal matter.”

  I nod. “All right.” I extend my hand to enable the elevator again, but stop. “Can I give you a tip?” I ask her.

  “… Okay.”

  I turn to her again. “Wear a choker or a scarf the next time you go to the club.”

  She tilts her head. “A choker? You mean, like a necklace?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  I lean closer. “Because it signifies that you already belong to someone,” I explain. “Trust me, it’ll deter some of the more intense patrons.”

  She nods. “Oh. Okay. Thanks. That’s... a good idea.”

  “Like this...” I pull my white handkerchief from my breast pocket, quickly unfolding it as she watches with interest. I grab two opposite corners and roll it into a long line. “May I?” I gesture to her neck.

  She doesn’t say no but she doesn’t do anything to make me stop either. I take a short step behind her and lay the handkerchief around her neck, tying it off at the back. Her throat clenches with nerves and her pulse pounds in her artery, thumping the skin up and down.

  “There,” I say. “No one will touch you. Unless you want them to, that is.”

  Nora looks at herself in the reflective wall. “That’s a good tip,” she says.

  “I see a lot of beginners get scared off too quickly,” I say. “Don’t want that to happen to you.”

  Her eyes flick over at me. “Why not?” she asks.

  “Because you seem like you’d be a lot of fun.”

  She lets her face fall to the floor, possibly concealing some embarrassment. It’s a side of Ms. Nora Payne I never thought I’d see — let alone exist at all. Nervous and delightfully timid.

  I like it.

  I look down her cheek, following a line to her neck and along her sharp collarbone. All the way down to her professionally-hidden cleavage. I catch something sticking out of her purse from the corner of my eye — a small, black harddrive with the initials LBB scrawled in permanent ink on a worn, white label.

  Nora shifts on her toes and straightens up. “Well...” She extends her arm and slaps the button with the flesh of her fingertips. The elevator starts again, softly bouncing an inch before continuing its decent downward. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  She reaches behind her neck to undo the knot but I lay a soft hand on her elbow.

  “Don’t,” I say. “You can keep it.”

  “No, I shouldn’t—”

  “It looks good on you.”

  Her fingers curl away from it as her eyes twitch in hesitation, but she slowly lowers her arms again.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  We both look forward at the elevator doors. Just another few seconds and we’ll hit the ground floor.

  “Hey, Clive.”

  “Yes, Ms. Payne?”

  “What kind of guy carries around a handkerchief anymore?”

  I smile as the doors slide open. “The kind who likes to keep his hands clean,” I answer. “After you.”

  She turns her head to look at me one last time with puffy, pink cheeks before stepping off. When I don’t move, she pauses outside the elevator.

  “Are you getting off?” she asks.

  I smirk. “Not yet but I will.”

  Her eyes widen but the doors close again before she can say a word.

  I let out a quick laugh and hit the button to head back up to the fifteenth floor. Sure, blatantly hitting on my boss probably wasn’t the brightest move but hell — she looks way too damn cute with that collar on.

  Nora Payne is a submissive. Who fucking knew?

  I lean into the corner and grip the rail on either side of me as the car rides back up.

  Not just any sub either. A newbie sub. One who can easily be bent and shaped. One who isn’t totally aware of her limits yet. The kind who’s open to experimentation.

  My favorite kind.

  I bite my cheek. Bad idea. Very bad ideas.

  Have I forgotten what I’m really her
e for?

  The elevator stops and the doors slide open, revealing that illuminated, neon logo on the wall.

  Little Black Book.

  It takes another hour for the rest of the staff to clear out. Desk lamps flick off one-by-one until it’s just the receptionist left. She has to stay and answer phones until the last possible moment. Poor girl.

  “Have a good night, Clive,” she says as she passes by my desk.

  “Goodnight,” I say, forgetting her name.

  I wait until ten seconds after I hear the elevator doors shut again. Total silence fills the floor, practically screaming in my ears.

  Finally, I stand up and walk across the room to Nora’s office to jimmy the door open again.

  Hopefully, this personal matter keeps Nora at home for the rest of the night. I just need ten uninterrupted minutes here. The janitorial staff usually starts emptying trash bins at six. I should have just enough time.

  I sit down at her desk and wiggle the mouse to wake up the computer. She definitely charged out of here in a hurry if she left all of this on. Either that personal matter is serious or she was really, really eager to get out of here and away from me. I won’t take it personally.

  I take a breath before diving in. Client files. That’s all I need to swipe and I’ll be out of here...

  I double click the database software, hoping the security there is as lax as the building. It pops open and I smile at the stupidity of it, to be honest.

  Millions of users access Little Black Book every day and I’m about to get the names, addresses, and credit card numbers of each and every one of them.

  I blink. It’s empty.

  I refresh the database, giving it a quick close and open again. Must be a glitch. It has to be a glitch.

  Again, it’s empty.

  There’s no way this is accurate. Unless…

  I close it down and run an administrator search for the database’s application files. There should be a log in there that will tell me the last time the client list was accessed. That will point me in the right direction.

  I open it and scroll down to the most recent auto-entry.