by Heidi Lowe
She nodded. While she was still chewing, I leaned in and stole a kiss from her. A slow, sensual one for our fascinated audience. When the kiss ended, we stared lovingly into each other’s eyes. No one would have believed this was merely a business arrangement.
Several couples, led by the men, made their way over to us under the guise of wanting to catch up with Interstellar. After a few minutes of making smalltalk with her, the conversation invariably switched to our relationship.
“So, how did you two meet?”
We’d come up with a story back at her condo.
“We met in the dried fruit aisle in Whole Foods,” I chimed in, playing the role of my life. “I took one look at her and knew she was the one. Then followed months of courting, getting her to take me seriously.”
“What did you do?” they all wanted to know.
“I showed up at her office every day for two months, with lunch and coffee, until she finally agreed to go out with me.”
She looked at me in wonderment, as the story spiraled and spiraled into this crazy, elaborate fairytale we hadn’t agreed on. But the guests ate it up, telling us how magical it sounded.
“And on a three-day trip to Paris, atop the Eiffel Tower, she finally confessed that she was in love with me.” I squeezed her hand. “She thought she would never love again, you know, after the last one. But I changed all of that.”
When I peered at her, it was hard for either of us to keep a straight face.
“That’s right,” she added, getting in on the fun. “Erica taught me how to love again.”
As everyone started to disperse, to make their way to their tables, I heard behind me, “What an amazing story.”
I spun around quickly, thinking it impossible that the voice belonged to the person I thought it belonged to. I was met, and disarmed, by Dana’s smile. I just froze, not knowing what to do or say next. It took me a while to realize that the tall, burly, white-haired man standing beside her was holding her hand. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, had huge, bushy, slug-like eyebrows, and the sort of stance that oozed pomp, arrogance and impatience for things he neither liked nor understood. I recognized him from the pictures in her house as the man I'd envied for a year. We were finally face to face, me and Dana’s husband.
“Lori, nice to see you again,” Dana said, exchanging kisses on the cheek with Interstellar. Then she looked at me again. “You too, Erica.”
Interstellar didn’t seem at all fazed by the fact that we knew each other. It was a secret between the three of us — my true origin, what I was really doing by her side.
Words failed me. She was more beautiful than I’d ever seen her, in a yellow lace dress that made her already ample bosom appear super-size. Her brunette locks were slightly curled. Dark red lipstick gave her lips a plumper look.
“Let’s find our table,” her husband said, putting an arm around her and kissing her hair. He wasn’t doing it for my benefit, to make me jealous, I knew that, but he might as well have been, because it had the same effect.
She said goodbye to us, and let him lead her away, a strong, possessive arm now around her waist. I watched them go, and saw red everywhere.
She had no time for me; not even five minutes to call and see how I was doing. Yet here she was, playing the doting, happy wife to this...ogre! Okay, so he wasn’t ugly or remotely ogre-ish, but to me he was a troll under a bridge. I hated him.
“Let’s hope no more of your clients show up tonight,” Interstellar laughed, then led me away to find our table.
As if the evening had only just begun fucking with me, I soon discovered that our table was right next to Dana’s.
She didn’t seem to notice me when I sat down, she was too busy kissing her husband like no one else existed in the world. Like I didn’t exist. It was only as he whispered sweet little nothings into her ear, while she chuckled, that she saw me again.
I looked away quickly, my stomach filling with bile, my throat drying up. How could she be so happy with him? I knew she loved him, that it wasn’t an act. That was what hurt the most.
It didn’t matter that Interstellar was probably looking for me, I needed five minutes alone to regroup. Maybe to vomit. I lost myself in the crowd on purpose, once the show and raffle were over. I bummed a smoke from one of the hotel staff outside, and filled my lungs with tar, something I almost never did. I just wanted the night to be over. The gala, the date, the lot. My heart didn’t ache, it stung; it bled.
Halfway through the cigarette, I heard, “You smoke?”
I looked up as Dana descended the stairs carefully, her heels click-clacking on the marble steps.
“Not really,” I mumbled.
She stood beside me, smelling like a treat. I stubbed out the cigarette.
“You look amazing, by the way.”
I said nothing.
“So you and Lori, huh? You’re branching out?”
“Something like that.” I didn’t want to speak to her, and I wanted her to know it.
She fell silent as she regarded me. I saw her through the corner of my eye.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“No!” I snapped. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my wrist. And then she did something I never saw coming. She pulled me close, took my face in her hands, and pressed her lips to mine.
When she released me, she straightened out her dress before heading back inside, leaving me speechless, breathless, and bewildered.
EIGHT
I peered out through the blinds, checking the motel parking lot to see if the run-down Honda was approaching. He hadn’t arrived yet, which meant there was still time to give the room a quick clean to make it look halfway presentable. The last thing I wanted was my dad thinking I was living in squalor. I turned the plug-in air freshener up to its highest setting; gave the visible parts of the skirting boards a hasty wipe down; made the bed.
After ignoring his calls and texts for six days straight, I’d finally given in and told him where I was. The talk had to happen sooner or later, no use putting it off.
I tensed up when the door knocked. Brushed a bit of dust off the windowsill, then opened up.
“Hi, love,” he said, enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug. He was in his work clothes. The visit wouldn’t be a long one, as he had to get back when his lunch break was over.
He didn’t spend much time looking at the place, but his eyes said everything his mouth wouldn't. Everything about the room was impersonal and cold. Not quite squalor, but close enough to it.
He smiled and didn’t mean it. We sat down on the bed, ate and drank the sandwiches and soda I’d picked up earlier.
“What did Mom tell you?” I said, ending the excruciating silence.
“That the two of you had a fight.”
“Did she say what it was about?” His countenance, and the fact that he’d come here at all, told me she hadn’t.
“She said I should ask you.”
I looked down. “She doesn’t agree with my choices. I need space to breathe.” I thought I would've had the courage to come clean about the job, but now that the moment of truth had arrived, courage failed me. Being Daddy’s little girl meant more to me than being honest.
“You spent nine months in another country, Erica. Wasn’t that enough space?”
I ate and said nothing. The sandwich, a BLT, tasted bland, only adding to my rising nausea.
“We just want you to come home.”
“We? Yeah right.”
He put a hand on my knee. “Mom too. Sometimes she’s too proud, you know her. You got that from her.” He smiled sadly.
“This place isn’t so bad. I can come and go when I please.” I shrugged. “Just let me do this, all right? I promise I’ll come back.”
He sighed. “Soon?”
“I’ll come back,” I said again. That was all I could give him, nothing definite. Money-wise, it made more sense to go home; but mother-wise, the motel seemed like my best option.
We talke
d briefly about his job, how much he was enjoying it (though I didn’t buy a word of it), and about Jo’s boyfriend, whom I took every opportunity to talk disparagingly about to anyone who would listen. Then the work phone rang. Ignoring it, what with my rising motel bill, wouldn’t have been wise. Dominatrix’s name flashed on the screen. I got up, excused myself and took the call outside.
“I dreamed about you last night,” were her first words.
“What was I doing in the dream?”
“Me!” Her laugh was filthy.
“So you just had to call, make it a reality?”
“That’s right. Are you free tonight?”
“As luck would have it, I am. Have you got something debauched planned for me?” It always surprised me how quickly I could get into character of the seductive vixen, despite all the crazy shit that was happening in my personal life; despite the fact that my dad sat on the other side of the door.
“You’ll see. Let me know where to send the cab.”
She rang off, and I returned to my dad, whose eyes betrayed his curiosity.
“Someone wants me to babysit tonight,” I explained.
I wasn’t sure whether or not he believed me.
Dominatrix’s kiss upon opening the door took me by surprise, sucked the air from my lungs. She embraced me and let her hands rove over my butt, before she grabbed a chunk of cheek. I chuckled. She had that fresh, oceany smell, like she’d just stepped out of the shower. Her dark hair was slightly damp too.
The lights were dimmed in her condo, allowing for the beauty of the sunset to be fully appreciated.
“Are we alone?” I asked. By that I meant would her stepdaughter, aka Hazel, walk in on us again, like she had once before.
Her eyebrows jumped in alarm. “How did you know?”
I frowned. “Know what?”
No sooner had the question left my mouth than Katja, in nothing but her underwear, came trotting out, champagne glass in hand, hair tousled. The lingerie was a Victoria’s Secret number — scarlet, sequined, and accentuated breasts that had no use for the enhancement. When she saw me, she forced a smile, came forward, and before I knew it, her lips were on mine. I was too stunned to push her away. Too stunned and, all right, I’ll admit it, super turned on. Damn was she a great kisser!
When Dominatrix spoke, her words oozed sex. “Just how I pictured it in my dream.”
Oh great, so now you tell me there was a third party involved in the dream. A third party who disliked me as much as I did her.
If I was going to act out a sexual fantasy with someone I couldn’t stand, I needed a drink first. So, as Katja had taken a kiss from me without permission, I thought it only fair to take the drink from her, down it myself.
“Hey,” she protested.
“There’s plenty more, no need to fight, ladies,” Dominatrix laughed.
She took us both by the hand, led us to her bedroom, and left us alone while she went to fetch more alcohol.
Katja cut me a scorching look from the other end of the large bed. “I don’t like you.”
“Ditto,” I snapped back.
“But I’m going to fuck the crap out of you, and you’re going to love every minute of it.”
“Someone has a high opinion of themselves,” I said, praying she couldn’t tell how turned on I’d become. Did I have any dignity at all?
By the time Dominatrix returned with a bottle of champagne, it was obsolete. Katja had her tongue down my throat, and was aggressively stripping my clothes off.
“Is there any room for me in there?” Dominatrix said in a playful tone.
I drew my mouth from Katja’s, reached out for Dominatrix’s hand, and pulled her onto the bed. We took it in turns to kiss her, to rid her of her clothes.
Threesomes were new to me. None of the others had ever suggested them. I’d been under the illusion of too many cooks and all that, too many moving parts. But as we laid Dominatrix down, and we took our positions — Katja sitting on her face, me face down between her legs — everything flowed naturally.
With sap covering my mouth, I periodically came up for air and received Katja’s kisses and moans, as Dominatrix swallowed her down. The act was so salaciously delicious, the whines and cries so primal, that it didn't take either of them long to reach climax.
Dominatrix gave a smoky laugh as we passed the champagne bottle between us moments later. We’d all shed our clothes in preparation for the next installment.
“You girls make an excellent team.”
Aside from the fact that we hate each other, you mean? None of that was evident, however. We'd performed like professionals, giving the client what she wanted. Or possibly our dislike of each other enhanced the sex. Hate-sex could do that.
Dominatrix got up, padded across the room to her closet, dug inside, then came out dangling a strap-on in her hand, and wearing a huge grin.
“Which one of you will do the honors?”
Katja jumped up before I had a chance to even consider it. Dominatrix and I watched with lustful eyes as she slipped the device on, then stalked toward me.
“I want to do her first.” She was speaking to Dominatrix but looking at me, a malevolent glint in her eye and smile.
“Oh, honey, that was the plan anyway,” Dominatrix said.
I must have been the only person in that room feeling suddenly apprehensive. A maniac wearing a strap-on — a woman who’d confessed to not liking me, I might add — was standing over me, about to screw my brains out. If there was ever a good time to back out, now was it.
But it was too late. She shoved me down, spread my legs, and slithered between them. We kissed as she strummed on my nub, no doubt attempting to lubricate me. And when she achieved that, she entered me. Once she got going, she wasn’t gentle about it.
“Fuck,” I breathed, on almost every thrust. She operated that thing like it was a part of her.
She bit my lower lip, kissed me, bit me. It was savage and brutish, and felt incredible.
Then Dominatrix entered the mix. As if they were ganging up on me, as if they’d planned this dual attack before I got there, she pinned my arms down, and focused her attention on my breasts. She suckled, nibbled, and licked my nipples hungrily.
The double assault had me flailing and wailing, crying in ecstasy. Their teamwork was second to none. And when the orgasm erupted through me, I thought I would faint from it.
Dominatrix loosened her grip on my arms, kissed me upside down, while Katja pulled out. I stayed lying down, in recovery mode, while my two lovers kissed and touched each other. I was totally okay with being left out.
“These are yours,” Katja said, throwing my panties in my face.
Two hours and God only knew how many orgasms later, we were wrapping up for the night, getting dressed. Dominatrix left us alone to take a call.
“Bitch!” I said.
She laughed as she climbed into her underwear. “How does your body feel?”
“Just fine.” I was aching all over, but she didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need to know that she’d succeeded in her quest.
“If that’s how you do it with them, no wonder they came looking for me.”
I glowered at her. “I’m great at my job. And all my body parts are real,” I spat back.
“You know the only reason you’re here is because I am. No one’s hiring you anymore. And now I know why.”
I was so tempted to pull that stupid ponytail of hers as she strutted to the door, but I held back. Fighting didn’t solve anything, wasn’t that what they told you in grade school?
By the time I went to find Dominatrix in the lounge, Katja had already left.
“You were a star,” Dominatrix said, handing me an envelope and stealing a kiss as I went to take it from her. “Thanks for making my night.”
“Any time,” I said. Next time, though, can we leave the Russian bimbo out of it?
I didn’t check the money in front of her, waited until I was outside the building before I
opened it. Six hundred bucks. Sweet!
As I was slipping the envelope into my purse, I heard heels approaching. When I looked up, Hazel was walking toward me.
“Let me guess, you’re seeing my stepmother again?” She looked and sounded vexed, like she’d been that way before she saw me. Rough night, perhaps?
“I, uh—”
“You’re not the only woman she brings here, you know.” She folded her arms, glared at me beneath the streetlights.
“I know.” I stuffed the envelope in the purse quickly, under her suspicious gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”
She rolled her eyes. “So I’m gonna keep bumping into you here? Because that’s not weird at all.”
“I’m sorry, but you and I...we never really went anywhere...” Why was she still bitter about it? We’d had one date, that was it.
She rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, because you were fucking my stepmother.” She disappeared inside the building.
“Why can’t I just do my job in peace?” I mumbled to myself, and went to find a cab to take me home.
NINE
Jo dropped the duffel bag at my feet, let out an exhausted breath. “Tell me again why I couldn’t use a case, you know, that has wheels?”
“Because they would think this was a permanent arrangement.” I picked up the bag, which didn’t weigh as much as she’d made out. Jo was known for overreacting.
Just as we were going inside my motel room, a car engine revved, and Jo and I both turned to look. She waved to the driver, and I got a glimpse of stringy blonde hair through the front window as the car backed out of the parking lot.
“He’s driving your car now?” I said, closing the door behind her. I threw open the bag, rifled through the contents; more underwear, pants, dresses. I'd grown sick of wearing the same outfits over and over.
“What? He got it fixed. The least I can do is let him borrow it from time to time.”
I kept my mouth shut, held off telling her my opinion of her freeloading boyfriend. This stuff was textbook: first the car, then he’d ask to borrow money, if he hadn’t already. And before anyone knew it, he’d be moving in. None of my business.
