Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  Sloan almost spilled her makeup remover. “I don’t dawdle in those kinds of rumors anymore, but I got what I wanted.”

  “I bet you did, Maggie. That’s what’s so great about you.”

  He might as well have been breathing down her neck. Sloan glared at his reflection in her vanity mirror and said, “So how many women have you knocked up this weekend?”

  Aaron didn’t miss a beat. “At least two. Only one fewer than you, I’m sure.”

  “I didn’t take my strap-on with me. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Not as disappointed as your most recent girlfriend, I’m sure.”

  Sloan had thought of Leah multiple times that day. So what? I think about the women I fuck… sometimes… once in a while… Thus far, Leah was winning how many times she commanded Sloan’s imagination. The night before had been such a diversion from how Sloan usually conducted her private life that it was impossible to shake some details that refused to be forgotten. Like the giggles on Leah’s lips at the end of their encounter. Or how eager she had been to indulge Sloan in her lifestyle choices. No matter how much you pay a woman, it doesn’t mean she’s genuinely into it. Maybe that was another danger surrounding Leah. Good thing they would never see each other again.

  Why does that make me sad to think? Sloan? Sad about not seeing a one-night stand again? God, she needed a real vacation. Bermuda should’ve been beautiful that time of year…

  “What do you want, Aaron?”

  He sighed. Nothing about it was genuine fatigue or concern. It was 100% Aaron Giles being an insufferable fuckwit. “I wanted to check in with you, Mags. We haven’t had a proper conversation in the flesh in, what, a month? We live so close together. We work together! This is ridiculous. Let me take you to dinner tonight. We can discuss the trip and…”

  “What, Aaron?” Sloan turned in her chair. “That trip to Zurich you’re convinced will change our lives?”

  “I was thinking of possibly introducing you to my new girlfriend, but perhaps you’re not in the right mood, after all. Too bad, because she’s a huge fan of yours. She was shocked to find out that we weren’t together.”

  “Oh, I’m sure! Because we scream that we’re a couple whenever we have to sit in a boardroom together.” That had been a joke, but it made Sloan realize something. “You’re seeing the mailroom girl, aren’t you?”

  “Please. I assure you she’s a woman.”

  “Get out, Aaron. I want to change and relax. It’s been a long trip.”

  He snorted. But he did leave, albeit with a tarry to his steps that infuriated his business partner. “Like you have anything I haven’t seen.”

  “Get. Out.” She slapped her hand against the vanity. “Close the door behind you!”

  To his credit, Aaron did close the door, but he always got the last word in, didn’t he? Because Sloan could guarantee that he wasn’t thinking about her as much as she was thinking about him, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

  As soon as she was sure she was alone, Sloan went to her walk-in closet and began the maddening hunt for a single cedar chest she owned since she was a little girl. It should’ve been tucked somewhere between her vintage shoe collection and the gowns she once wore to charity dinners. The ones she kept to sell one day, not because they held any real nostalgic value.

  I used to store toys in this thing. Real toys, the kind that children played with. Innocent little lambs who didn’t know what “lifestyle” meant, or what it was like to be an adult making stupid decisions that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Hard to believe that a little girl named Maggie Sloan once played with Barbie dolls, Cabbage Patch Kids, and the occasional Hot Wheels and Lego sets. If she really dug into her chest, she might find the stray plastic barrette or yellow Lego piece.

  She kept a different set of toys in her chest now.

  Don’t do it. There was a reason she only took a pair of handcuffs with her wherever she went. Handcuffs were safe and reliable. Everyone knew what they meant, and for many women, that was as kinky as they were willing to get. The stuff in Sloan’s chest? Likely to get her a slap to the cheek at best, a visit from the police at worse.

  You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Aaron?

  She fingered a leather implement that once made her happy to see. Now? There was a reason she locked everything up in a chest and shoved it far into the back of her closet.

  Except she couldn’t stop thinking about… people. Those who had fucked her over. Those who had changed her life, for better or worse. Those she had met…

  Those I have lost…

  Those who came in like the wind only to blow out again. Like Leah. A woman she was never meant to meet, but somehow fate had conspired to bring to her. Twice.

  She liked what Sloan offered. She could have taken much more last night than what Sloan had been prepared to give. That was a dangerous thought, because it meant Sloan dared to lose her stone-cold façade and what she clung to for her own sanity.

  She phoned Sean as soon as it was convenient.

  “You have her address, yes?” Sloan closed the lid on the chest and began a new search. Her personal – not the professional – stationery was somewhere. Probably around her desk, but probably stuffed into some drawer she rarely poked through. “Good. I’ll have something ready to deliver to her by the end of tonight. I need you to make sure it gets to her without anyone finding out. Do you understand me? Utmost discretion.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Giles will not discover it.”

  “I’m not only talking about that dumbass. I mean nobody except her.”

  “Leave it to me, Ms. Sloan.”

  Thatta boy. Sloan paid him more than any of her other employees because he was the most reliable man she knew. Too bad they were both gay.

  ***

  The others at Rose City Bakery were not impressed that Leah had stood them up the night before. Gina pulled her friend aside and asked what happened, because it was not like Leah to promise to be somewhere and then completely fall off the map without a phone call.

  She gave everyone but Gina a stock excuse involving her sister. While they were on break, she gave Gina a little more detail.

  “I hooked up with someone, okay?” Leah held a cigarette and pretended to find it necessary for her survival so she had an excuse to take a break with Gina, who smoked a pack a day. They stood behind the bakery, where warm vents combatted the frosty Oregon chill. Gina studiously smoked her cigarette while glaring at Leah. “It was a super last-minute thing. She was leaving town, and…”

  “You fucked us over for a booty call?”

  “Yeah?”

  Gina crunched her cigarette beneath her feet. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you. I’m impressed.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Well, you have my forgiveness if you promise the sex was bomb and totally worth it.”

  Leah laughed. “It was the best night of my fucking life. If you told me it was going to happen a week ago, I would’ve never believed you.”

  “Then you have my forgiveness. Congrats.” Gina chuckled. “Where did you meet her? Online?”

  “I actually met her at the club on my birthday.”

  “You slut!”

  “She was only in town for the weekend. For business. So when she reconnected with me Monday afternoon, I decided to follow my pussy. You know how rough it is for us gay girls.”

  “So was that shit about your sister a cover?”

  “No.” Leah sighed. “She really wasn’t feeling well. I meant to come back to work, but I got the… call.” Here came the little white lies. “My date called and asked me to come meet her. Guess I was so excited that I completely forgot about work. I should’ve at least called and made up some excuse to the boss.”

  “Yeah, well, we got it done.” Gina took the cigarette Leah wasn’t smoking and lit it with a flick of her lighter. “I’ll overlook your transgression this time, because I do know how rough it is for you gay girls.”

  Le
ah kissed her fingers and tapped them against Gina’s cheek. “You’re the best. Besides, I doubt I’ll ever be seeing her again. Like I said, she was from Chicago. Anyway, I’m going back to work. Enjoy your cig.”

  The parts of Leah willing to treasure the memory of her night with Sloan conflicted with the ones begging her to forget. If I remember, I’ll have something to think about on my lonely nights. If she forgot? She wouldn’t have to deal with the pang of regret thumping with every beat of her heart.

  No, she didn’t regret doing it, although she woke up feeling like the irresponsible adult her mother always made her out to be. Leah regretted the fact she would never truly know what it meant to be in the relationship of her dreams. One where a strong woman could take care of her, whatever that entailed. Financially, emotionally, maybe spiritually… Leah was that kind of person. She needed constant guidance. She knew how to take care of herself, yes, but she truly flourished when she had someone to give gentle guidance and make the hard decisions that overwhelmed and stressed her out. I don’t need someone to think for me. I want someone who likes doing the heavy lifting and naturally takes charge. Sloan was like that. She called the shots, and that turned Leah on.

  The cigarette smoke Leah left outside reminded her of Sloan, though the brand and filters were different. She had a feeling the scent of tobacco would trigger these recent memories for a long while.

  Leah finished her shift late enough to see nothing but darkness when she stepped outside. As she had promised her mother that morning, she texted that she was on her way home. She did not expect her mother to immediately text something back.

  “Good. Because there’s something here for you, and you locked your bedroom door so now it’s taking up space on the dining table. We need to use it for dinner.”

  What was waiting for her? Leah, bundled up in her winter clothing and throwing a hat on her head to protect her scalp from the rain, began the long trek home. I didn’t buy anything. The last time she did any online shopping was when she bought birthday presents for Karlie. That was back in October. Nothing had been that delayed.

  She didn’t get to find out what it was until she reached her doorstep twenty minutes later. Karlie’s head perked up from the living room sofa. When Leah asked where their parents were, Karlie announced that Janet and Ray and gone to get takeout for dinner. No wonder they wanted the dining room table so quickly.

  “Mom said there was something for me on the table.”

  Karlie folded her legs beneath her. The TV played some teen drama rerun Leah could remember watching when she was her sister’s age. “Yeah, what’s that about?”

  Leah put her things down and went straight to the kitchen. There, acting as the impressive centerpiece to the family dining table, was a package big enough to fit a cat in.

  “I’m going upstairs.” The only return address Leah could find was some nondescript building in Illinois. Wait, Illinois? Chicago was in Illinois…

  She raced up to her room faster than if she were a teenager receiving a love note in the mail. For, in many ways, she had received a lovely note from a worthy suitor.

  The package was opened within two seconds of hitting Leah’s bed. The first thing she found was a white card on top of black silk. The golden lettering was handwritten with a pen. Who knew a woman could have such beautiful cursive handwriting? Maybe it’s a dying art, after all. Leah soaked up the lettering before reading what it said.

  “My dearest Leah,

  I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night. Forgive an older woman for being a big softie, when what you clearly need is someone who isn’t afraid to be tough. But sometimes, in order for us to be tough on the outside, we need to remember what it’s like to be soft on the inside.

  That said, unfold the scarf and take a look at what I can offer you.”

  Leah placed the card on her bed as gingerly as she would a newborn baby. No folds. No bends. No little stains from her inability to keep popcorn salt and melted chocolate off her comforter.

  She pulled back the silk scarf and found the submissive starter kit she once put together in an Amazon wish list.

  No, it wasn’t from the actual wish list. Sloan probably could hack the site and find the goods Leah wanted, but they wouldn’t be as high in quality as the items in the bottom of the box. The negligee and accompanying sheer robe was made of the finest lace to ever touch Leah’s fingers. The silk blindfold felt like a warm bath against her face. Even the leather strips on the whip enclosed within a silk handkerchief was so gentle to the touch that Leah almost couldn’t believe it was real.

  Those weren’t… no. All right, so perhaps the hardest things in the box were the sterling silver nipple clamps that could easily attach to the collar and leash coiling at the bottom of the package.

  “Oh my God.” Leah began shoveling everything back into the box, as if her mother or Karlie would walk into her room and see what the hell she was into. Yet before she could grab the little whip currently adorning her pillow, she discovered another note at the bottom of the box. “What now?”

  It was attached to a bullet vibe, hidden beneath another silk scarf that Leah hadn’t originally seen.

  “If this speaks to you, then text me at the following number. It’s my private cell. I want to see you the next time I’m in your neighborhood, which will be soon enough.”

  Leah stared at Sloan’s private number, complete with Chicago area code, before grabbing her phone and possibly making the weirdest decision of her life.

  “Yes,” she texted Sloan.

  It was like the woman had been waiting for her message all along.

  “Good. I’ll be back in Portland this weekend. Until then, try whatever you like. Especially the bullet.”

  Leah bit her bottom lip so hard that she almost made it bleed. “You want me to use it now?”

  “Whenever you use it, make sure I know about it.”

  Leah didn’t have her chance until long after dinner and a bath. By then, the box was shoved into the bottom of her closet, with winter sweaters and snow pants covering the top. When her mother asked what had been in the box, Leah explained that it was a care package from an old internet friend in Chicago. Nobody asked for any further information, and Leah was perfectly happy to take her Chinese takeout upstairs so she could giddily text her friends about the potential new girlfriend hitting her up for a date that weekend. She left out the details, because those could stay between her and Sloan. For now.

  As proof of her dutiful use of such a gracious present, Leah did something she had never done before. She sent her first set of erotic photos to a woman she barely knew. What was the point of having a phone with a great camera if her lover couldn’t see the hot details?

  Why is this the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me? Leah continued to tell herself that none of it was real. Not until she received her final response of the night.

  “I love your expression when you come. Have a good night.”

  If they ever got married one day, Leah hoped that would be in the wedding vows. Even the wish good night.

  Part 2: Games We Lose

  Chapter 9

  Nails as red as blood pushed the card back across the table. “You’re kidding, right? You must be kidding, otherwise you’re crazier than anyone ever thought.”

  Sloan shrugged. “Call me crazy all you want. Although it’s probably not a good idea to piss off your potential donors.”

  “If I accept your offer, then you’re the charity’s biggest donor.” Maxine Woodward brushed a piece of lint off her shoulder. Her finely tailored Givenchy pantsuit was almost as high quality as one of Sloan’s suits. Almost. I don’t do brands. I do master tailors who have been honing their crafts for generations. Finding someone willing to take on the female form had been an obnoxious challenge at first, but once she found an Austrian tailor known for her bold fits and luxurious materials, Sloan realized she had to keep the woman a secret. Otherwise, women like Maxine would move in faster
than she could blink.

  “What’s a few million between friends?”

  “Uh, we’re not friends.” Maxine glanced at Sloan’s bodyguard standing in the corner of the small meeting room. “Last I checked, you don’t have any friends.”

  “Maybe I’m attempting to expand my social circles this year. Consider it a resolution.”

  “A resolution to donate more money to charities this year? Your accountant must be on your ass about tax write-offs.”

  “As a matter of fact, she is.” Sloan chuckled. “That’s not why I’m doing it. I believe in little charities like yours. I can’t make it to your fundraisers, so this will have to do.”

  “Little, huh?” Maxine glanced at the number again. “I suppose a foundation that only serves central and southern California can be considered ‘little,’ if you broaden the definition of that word.”

  West coast people and their liberal interpretations of size. Maxine really was Californian, wasn’t she? Quite frankly, anything that didn’t service people on a national level was “small.” You couldn’t tell these Pacific coasters that, though. California was the center of America.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anything you really want in return?”

  “I can’t believe you’re questioning my motives behind a donation.”

  “Anyone else, and I would be kissing their feet, Sloan. You? You always have an ulterior motive in everything you do.”

  “It’s cutthroat out there, isn’t it?”

  “What do you want?”

  Sloan hadn’t called this meeting on an early Saturday morning because she wanted Maxine to grill her. So what if she had ulterior motives? Everyone did in business and charity alike! “I want world peace, Woodward. God, weren’t you taught anything on the pageantry circuit?”

  “Unlike you, I was never a beauty queen.”

  Sloan threw her head back and laughed. “You found out about that? Here I thought I paid those web gurus enough money to scrub those photos from the face of the internet.”