by Gabi Moore
I stood for a moment, alone in my blood-red Jessica Rabbit dress in my driveway, feeling the cool night air play with my hair and float across my bare arms. In the stillness, it didn’t feel so outrageous to let go and let in a new feeling that had been trying to press its way in for days.
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back. Is this what it felt like, to trust someone? Could this actually be happening to me? This wiggly, warm, totally electrifying feeling I had whenever I thought of him …could he possibly feel the same for me?
Maybe I had been blessed with a second chance.
I stared out and down into the darkness, out into the night twinkling with distant lights and wisps of dark cloud. I felt the gravity of my old life behind me, back towards the house. ‘Mistress Morgan’ and everything she stood for felt like nothing more than a dead, shed skin lying around me. Turns out, this sparkling red dress was exactly my style. Turns out, I wasn’t broken, but deliciously, wonderfully, beautifully alive and still dizzy with learning all the amazing things my body and mind could do…
I turned to the house.
There was no question. The next time we met, I owed it to him to come clean.
I let myself into the house, kicked off my heels and padded barefoot into the kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on. I made myself a bowl of cereal, then walked into the living room, thinking that what I needed right now was The Pearlfishers duet at high volume and to put my feet up for a second.
I screamed. The bowl went crashing to the ground. The shape of a human figure sat on the chair by the record player, watching me. I wanted to turn and run but my feet were nailed to the floor. An icy wave passed over me as I realized who it was. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.
“Mistress,” came a thin voice from the shadow, and the sound made me want to throw up. That wasn’t my name. I was Nora. I was nobody’s fucking mistress. I tried my best to find words of my own.
“I’m calling the Police,” I said, and realized that the closest panic button in the house was in the kitchen where I had just come from. I quickly tried to calculate how long it would take me to run to it now. I didn’t even want to think of what would happen after I pressed it.
“Relax, Mistress. You seem afraid.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You broke into my home,” I whispered, astonishing myself that I was even standing here having this conversation at all. All I could think about was that ugly blue mark on his wife’s neck. And how it got there. And how suddenly the fact that I’d been ignoring all of that for weeks now seemed like the biggest, stupidest mistake I had ever made.
“Will you calm down? You wouldn’t see me.”
“You’re not my client anymore,” I said. I couldn’t make out the details of his face but I could just tell he was crawling his eyes all over my dress. All over me.
“You’re different,” he said. “You look different.”
Would he chase me? Would the police arrive before he…?
I had had four drinks this evening, and it was late, and I was tired and I could feel a splatter of spilt milk snaking its way down my ankle. It suddenly seemed clear as day to me. Having just spent a wonderful evening with Dean, all this crap from my past life seemed even more sordid than I remembered. I felt sickened.
“What do you want?” I said coldly.
“You know what I want. You. We were in the middle of something, Mistress, and you disappeared on me. We have unfinished business, you and I.”
He was crazy. That was the only explanation. If it seems naïve of me to never have thought this before, well, you can pity me. Something about being without any clients these last few weeks had made me realize just how crazy I myself must have been to ever get this involved with people this messed up.
“I’m telling you one more time, and then I’m calling the police,” I said calmly, trying to dig deep to find that bitchy Mistress Morgan voice I used to be so at home in. “You and I are done. Find someone else.”
“Name your price.”
“I don’t need money.”
“Who else is there? Drop them and I’ll pay you triple what they do.”
“I’m not even a Domme anymore. I quit that work.”
Here he stirred a little in his seat. Every tendon in my bare feet was coiled and ready to spring to action.
“Good, then nobody else can take your attention.”
“The answer is no.”
“I don’t understand. Do you know how many women would kill for this opportunity?” he said quietly. “You’re saying no because you’re scared, I get it. But I know you, Mistress. You know me and I know you. That’s what makes what we have so special. Give me one good reason why you’re running away from the best offer anyone will ever give you?”
I said nothing.
It all became so crystal clear to me, in that moment. I was no longer a tortured, sexually repressed woman who needed to play games and manipulate those who were only slightly more damaged than I was. I was different now, different enough to see that men like Jeff had nothing I wanted anymore, and whatever game I had thought I needed to play here, well, the prize just didn’t seem worth much anymore.
One good reason? I had a million. His poor wife was one. The fact that he had stalked and harassed me for weeks was another. And more than that, I was beginning to realize that I wanted something else. Something more. I wanted a life where I wasn’t just pretending to be in charge, but really was.
“I don’t need a reason, Jeff.”
“You don’t have one.”
I thought about the damning pictures I had of him. The plan to ruin him had been shelved and now it felt weird to think of it again, but would that be my silver bullet to kill this demon once and for all?
“See? You can’t think of anything,” he said. He stood up and my heart leapt.
“I’m seeing someone,” I blurted, wielding the words like a shield. He froze where he stood. I had no idea what possessed me to say it, but he seemed genuinely surprised.
“Who the hell would--”
“It’s Dean. It’s your son. I can’t see you anymore because I’m seeing him, and I love him,” I said, the words tumbling out, and once they were said, I was as shocked as he was to hear them.
Love him? Sure, why not. Isn’t that the word for the feeling I felt, wrapped in his arms and listening to his breath? Isn’t that what people called that feeling of wanting to burst at the thought of spending an afternoon with someone? Yes, dammit, it was love. Why couldn’t I be in love with Dean? I could. I was.
The silence around us felt treacherous. I still couldn’t make out his facial expression but I didn’t need to know that I had said something truly unexpected. I could feel him thinking. Would he come for me? Apologize and leave?
What he did was laugh. Quietly, cynically, like he had just caught me in a trap.
“I didn’t think you were this stupid, Nora.”
I hated the way he switched between names whenever it suited him.
“I don’t know what you--”
“Are you kidding me? Dean? That is fucking priceless,” he said, still chuckling.
“I should have told you, but I’m telling you now. I’m sorry, but it’s serious, and I’m done now with all this.” He took a few slow, menacing steps from out of the shadows and brought his sneering face into the light. It was no more human than it had been a moment ago, draped in darkness.
“Since you can’t figure it out, Nora, I’ll explain it to you. Like everyone in this dump of a town, Dean is trying his damndest to get a slice of my pie. What do you think a guy like that wants with someone like you, huh? Didn’t you think that was a bit suspicious?”
I wanted him to stop talking. To go away.
“You’re just trying to--”
“Think about it. What’s more likely, that he loves you, or that he specifically went after you to get at me?”
“But… how would…”
“Tell me
, what do you even know about the guy, huh?” He rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. “Fucking priceless. I should have known. He’ll stoop to any level, truly.”
“He’s… Dean…”
“Dean is even sicker than I am, you dumb slut. Ever since he was a kid he’s been trying to one-up me. Everything is a competition for him. You’re just the newest challenge.”
“Dean cares about me, he doesn’t even know that you were a client. He’s not even a client, he has nothing to do wi--”
“Wait so he’s not even paying you?” he said, and slapped his knee. “Wow, he really pulled a number on you, didn’t he?”
“Get out!” I snapped.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, stared at my bare feet for a moment, and then made for the door.
“Happily.”
The silence after the click of the door closing behind him was deafening. My dress suddenly felt too tight. Too stupidly red.
Could it actually be true?
I looked down to see a few milky drops clinging to the elaborate train. What did I know about Dean, really? That I had fallen in love with him like an idiot after knowing him for a little over a month? My mind spun, but trying to hold all of the last few weeks in my head all at once made me dizzy.
Chapter 14
Myth: Some strange people like to be restrained with chains and cuffs. They like to be hung up on hooks or spread helpless over crosses or metal beams and strapped in with buckles
Reality: Most people’s restraints are invisible
The sound was Verdi’s Requiem, Dies Irae, playing at eardrum-splitting volume all throughout the house. The shade of lipstick was Kat Von D’s “Lolita”, a murky mauve, applied thickly and sealed in with a layer plasticky gloss. The outfit was, for once, black. A full Lycra cat suit with a violent looking zip that ran all the way from the crotch to the high neck.
The mission was simple: get control over my circus of a life and make sure that Dean knew just how stupid he had been to underestimate me.
When the doorbell rang, I went to answer it as Mistress Morgan, ready to stab him immediately with a look so vicious I used to charge men for the thrill of getting to be on the other end of it. One glance at me and he was taken aback.
“Nora! Woah, look at you,” he said and smiled to come in.
I said nothing. But when I stepped aside and slammed the door behind him, he stopped smiling.
“Is everything--”
“Come to the sitting room,” I said, with a voice that made icicles seem warm and soft. He frowned but followed me, and we sat down. I drew out that moment as long as I could. He sat opposite me and waited for me to speak, but I wanted him to sweat it, wanted him to really feel that hideous tension before I cleared my throat and said, “We need to talk.”
I had never seen Dean nervous before, but the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat let me know that yes, it was possible to put such a man on the back foot.
“You know that I see your father,” I said slowly, and glared at him.
The silence around us whined as he tried to find his tongue.
“Don’t worry about all that, Nora, I don’t care, and besides, you’ve stopped seeing him, you’ve—”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not asking for your fucking forgiveness. He came to see me.”
“What do you mean?”
I cracked my knuckles and looked down at my manicure.
“He had some interesting things to say about you, Dean.”
The Adam’s apple bobbed up and then down again. It felt good to see him speechless. To see that look of panic on his face. But he didn’t rush to defend himself. In fact, the longer he sat there mute, the angrier I got.
“So, it’s all true then? That’s your complicated kink? You have some sick fantasy of seducing your father’s mistress?” I blurted. The cat suit was tight and constricting, but I still felt like I was about to boil over with rage.
“Please, Nora…”
“Yes or no, just answer me. Were you just using me to get a rise out of your father? I don’t care what sick game you were playing, but be honest with me, was anything we did together even real? Were you just using me?” I sucked in my breath and tried to remind myself not to get hysterical. Not to show him any weakness.
He frowned deeply and shook his head from side to side.
“Nora are you kidding? You used me,” he said low under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“Admit that you’ve been trying to fish for info about my father all along. Are you sure you weren’t playing any of your own sick games?” he said and shot me a hard look.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was meant to be groveling now. Apologizing profusely for breaking my heart and begging my forgiveness.
“How dare you…”
“Seriously? Fine, I should have told you. But shit, when were you going to tell me?”
“You deceived me, you deliberately--”
“Oh please, Nora. Just don’t. Nobody forced you to do anything. Yes, I knew who you were. I knew you saw my father. It wasn’t personal, I just… I’m not proud of it, I guess I wanted to see if I could…”
“Could what? Was it a competition?’
“No, not a competition. But part of the appeal was…”
“I’m not a thing, Dean. I’m not a toy you can steal from somebody. I opened up to you.”
“I know, Nora. I’m sorry, but please try to understand.”
“You manipulated me. Who the hell are you even? Just a liar? You’re just like him!” The effect these words had was staggering. He immediately snapped to attention and scowled at me.
“Don’t you dare say that. That’s not true. How dare you call me a liar when …Jesus, Nora. You think you’re so dark and mysterious? You’re completely transparent, and you’re just looking for petty revenge, like me. If I’m a liar then so are you. You hide behind this little dominatrix routine because you’re shit scared of playing out in the real world with the rest of us.”
“How can you—”
“It’s true. Fuck, I know people pay you for this but admit that all you’ve done is found a way to monetize a mild personality disorder or something. You’re not some sex expert, you’re just self-absorbed.”
His words hit me so hard I think I stopped breathing. But I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t argue. He was absolutely right. My whole life was a shabby thing held together with tape and paint, just a cheap illusion. Not real, just a two-dimensional image of a confident, sexually free woman that I could hide behind and hope nobody ever came close enough to look and see what I really was. I wasn’t even angry. Just shocked.
The look on his face softened.
“Nora, I’m sorry. I don’t mean any of that. It’s just… I didn’t expect for things to pan out this way, to go this far. I was an idiot, it was never meant to be more than an ego boost, a dare. But I never expected to …feel things for you.”
“Bullshit,” I spat.
“It’s true,” he whispered. “You’re falling for me too. Admit it.”
I looked up to see him standing and walking slowly towards me. Would I kiss him? Would I cry and say sorry and beg him to hold me?
“Dean?”
“Yes?”
“Are you still doing whatever I tell you to do?” I said, avoiding his eyes.
Silence.
“Of course. We had an agreement, didn’t we?” he said, his voice kind again. I stood up, straightened my hair and glowered at him.
“Then leave. And don’t come back.”
Chapter 15
Myth: Everyone is a little bit kinky. All of us have a little darkness in us, a little shame, a little secret desire that would mortify us to show the world
Reality: Actually, this one is one hundred percent true…
Kitchen scissors are probably not the best implement to use when cutting a designer sequinned couture frock into tiny pieces, but it would have to do the trick.
On my hands and knees, I worked with big, hulking chomps of the scissors and butchered that slinky number into smaller and smaller pieces. First I chopped the train off, then cut the whole thing into strips and then, still not satisfied, cut those strips even further into smaller scraps. I briefly tried to calculate how much each scrap was worth, but got bored and kept cutting until it no longer resembled anything but a pile of sparkly red innards.
I tossed the scissors aside, gathered the bundle in my arms and tossed it in the trash. I daubed on some fresh face powder, cracked my neck and got to work on the next task for the day. The landline phone flashed to indicate a message, but I ignored it. If that asshole wanted to apologize, he’d have to make about a million times more effort than that.
I sat down and used the other line to work through my client contact list. I began with Ralph, who nearly went into raptures to learn that his dog cage was once again vacant, and moved my way down the list till I had booked up a full schedule for the next two weeks. Provided there were no cancellations, it was easily almost $60 000 of income. I didn’t usually work that hard, but I was rearing to get back into things and forget about my recent little foray into trying to be a normal person.
Two hours had passed by the time I was finished. Finally, it was time for the last and most important task of the day.
I opened my bottom drawer and pulled out a plain manila envelope and stuffed it in my handbag. The time had come to finish what I started. I no longer cared how much that rat reporter offered me this time. I no longer cared about whether my reputation came into it.
Maybe Jeff was right and I was nothing but a whore. Maybe Dean was right and I was nothing but a big bluffing baby. Whatever the case, I still had my trump card, and this time when I played it, I would be getting two servings of revenge for the price of one. I forgave myself for making the error of dropping my guard, but I didn’t forgive them for having seen me so vulnerable.
I slipped on my heels, got in the car and headed into town. On the way, I pulled over at a gas station, filled up and then went inside to pay. It was one of those delightfully cheesy old California diners with everything done in mid-century turquoise and a little Cadillac in the logo. Not quite the backdrop for a femme fatale’s final devastating move, but it would do. I picked up a chocolate bar and a bottle of Evian and went to the high schooler behind the counter to pay. Her eyes were glued to the TV.
