by Cynthia Dane
She didn’t have friends. Not real ones, anyway. There were people in Chicago who pretended to be friendly acquaintances, so they would get what they wanted from her. But they didn’t like her. She didn’t like them, either. People used each other. That’s how the world worked. Every interpersonal relationship was an exercise in control and manipulation. The only good Sloan was capable of was never bringing a child into her world of shit.
No one could take that decision from me. Not even him.
Sometimes a true narcissist or sociopath arrived to make her life more interesting and help her hone her skills, but in the end, Sloan always knew how to be the most dominant force in the room. There was no space for error. Either she conquered, or she was conquered.
No in between. There had never been.
She lied on her bed for half an hour, almost expecting Aaron to arrive and continue to make her life hell. Yet the world was blessedly quiet – until her phone buzzed.
I swear to God, Aaron…
Sloan almost didn’t pick up her phone. Even if it wasn’t Aaron, it might be Ayla, or Sean, and she was not in the mood to deal with work and security. She wanted to lie on her bed and pretend nothing but her life existed. Maybe not her life. Was it really so bad to want to disappear once in a while?
She checked her phone. It was a message from Leah.
Leah. I had almost forgotten about her. Not for a lack of caring, but because when Sloan had to deal with that level of crap from the man she worked with, she couldn’t bring herself to think of anything but the moments leading up until now.
“Is this what you wanted?” Leah had texted. She also attached a photo of her outfit. A royal purple negligee that Sloan had never seen before lit up Leah’s skin and made her look like the most spoiled underwear model to ever grace a woman’s phone.
“Yes.” That was Sloan’s truth, at least. She needed a distraction, which women and sex were good at providing. I know. I am a woman. What are we but distractions? Someone had told her that, once. She wished she could forget it. “You’re beautiful.”
“Really?”
Sloan called her. When the phone touched her ear, she heard Leah’s voice.
“Really?” she said out loud.
“If you know anything about me at all,” Sloan said, knowing full well that Leah knew nothing, “then I don’t lie about that. I wouldn’t tell a woman I found unattractive that she was beautiful only to blow up her ego.”
Leah giggled. “I bet you wouldn’t string her along as your lover, either.”
“No,” Sloan was quick to agree. “I wouldn’t.”
“Good!” That extra pep to Leah’s voice was unexpected, but could Sloan say she wasn’t in the mood to hear some genuine pep right now? “What else about my picture did you like?”
Sloan pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arm around her knees. “Now you’re fishing for compliments? Do I not give you enough?”
“Some women live off food. I live off compliments.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Didn’t stop Leah from eating around Sloan, though. Not that it was a problem. One of the best date ideas was eating. If all else failed, Sloan could suggest a restaurant, and any woman she was with would be excited to sit down and order the best meal off the menu, calories be damned.
Before Sloan could say anything else – like why she was suddenly compelled to call – Leah interrupted her thoughts. “Can I tell you something?”
Sloan pursed her lips in apprehension. “It depends,” she wanted to say. “Are you going to unload something on me? This is supposed to be flirty. If you’re going to bog me down with gal-pal stuff, then maybe we should hang up.”
“Sure.”
Leah sighed. “I had a bad day. Okay, so my whole day wasn’t so bad, but something happened when I was at the bookstore, and…” She laughed, uneasy. “Never mind. You don’t understand any of this. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Hearing that self-flagellation in a woman’s voice was never satisfying. Hearing it from the woman currently sharing Sloan’s beds? Unacceptable. “No. Go ahead. Tell me about your day.” It was better than dwelling on her own day, as shitty as it had ended.
“You really want to hear that?”
“Sure. Indulge me.”
Leah rattled off the mundane: spilling coffee at breakfast, getting into work two minutes late but somehow making it past her boss’s eyes, and spending most of her afternoon giving herself carpal tunnel with her latest work project. Yet her tone didn’t change until she reached meeting up with her friend at the bookstore after work.
“I saw this guy there. I used to date him back in middle school. He was there with his kids. Two little kids. I only knew he had the one. Why did it make me feel so weird?”
Sloan said the first thing to come to her mind. “You used to date guys, huh?” She was under the impression that Leah had always known she was gay.
“I didn’t stop dating guys until I was in high school. Didn’t get a clue until then, I guess. Hormones make you do weird things.”
“So you saw a man – who was a boy back then – that you used to date years ago? It made you uncomfortable because he had kids?”
“I mean, I’m thirty. It’s weird to see people my age with kids now. Feels like everything I heard and read growing up begged me to never get pregnant until I was thirty-five and making millions.”
Sloan chuckled. “It doesn’t get much better at forty and you really do have millions. No matter what I do, there are journalists out there who make it their duty to write profiles about me. Specifically, they want the world to know that I’m a sad, meanspirited person who never learned real love because I didn’t give birth.”
“I don’t think giving birth makes you a more understanding person.”
Sloan flopped back against her pillow. “Good. Because I’ve never given birth. Maybe I was on the verge of losing that sense of my female self.”
“What does that mean?”
“I honestly have no clue. It’s been a long day for me as well.”
There was a pause. Then, “Care to tell me about it?”
No. Sloan wasn’t the type to verbally unload her woes. She purged them through physical activity. The gym, running, sex… they were different means to the same end. Only the gym required her trainer, running was best with her bodyguard, and sex… well, that was self-explanatory. Although I do feel more purged when I’m with you, Leah. She wasn’t sure if that was a bad or a good thing yet. It was certainly more dangerous than having no emotional attachment at all to the women she played with in the bedroom.
“My life is always stressful for some reason. Work, family…”
“You have family?”
“You make it sound like I was born from an abandoned egg and raised by wolves.”
“No… you never talk about them.”
“Well, to be fair, I haven’t talked to my parents in forever. We’re estranged.” She needed to explain herself, quickly. Otherwise, Leah would continue to pry, and Sloan would have to discuss matters she was never meant to reveal. “Suppose I meant my work family. I live a little too close to them, so it’s like I never leave the office.” Yeah, that was good. Sure. “I don’t want to talk about them, though. I’d much prefer to talk about you, Leah. Did you know that I was feeling pretty down until I got your message?”
“You mean you weren’t thinking about me already? After what you told me to do?”
So cheeky. No wonder I like her. “Did you do it? Because that picture you sent me was merely titillating.
Leah continued to giggle in her faraway room. I wish I could touch her right now. There was something to be said about indulging in a woman’s warm and soft body. Leah had plenty of nooks and hiding places for Sloan’s insecurities. “I was about to,” Leah admitted. “But I wanted to show you my outfit first.”
Sloan rolled onto her side. “Where did you get that? I don’t remember getting it for you.”
“Not
everything I wear for you is something you bought me.”
“Wear for me? Oh, Leah, darling, do me a favor and don’t say something like that unless we’re deep in a scene.” Sloan shoved her hand beneath her pillow. “You never wear your clothes for someone else. You wear them because they make you feel sexy. Powerful.” Irresistible.
“But knowing that it’s something you like makes me feel sexier. Why wouldn’t I put on something I thought you’d like?”
“Do you like it, though?”
“I bought it two years ago, though it wasn’t on sale and cost more than my weekly food budget. I’d say I like it a lot.”
“What made you think I would like it?” Sloan picked a stray thread on the corner of her pillowcase. “Spare no details.”
“Well…” Leah may be two thousand miles and two time zones away, but Sloan knew the younger woman grinned with every little bit of praise she received. She said so herself – she lives off it. Sloan used to know someone a lot like Leah: eager to please, happiest when appreciated, and always willing to do the bidding of the person she loved.
She doesn’t love me. She can’t.
“I know that you like purple, because you own a lot of dark purple things.”
“I do, I suppose.” Sloan’s phone case was purple. Half her handbags were some shade of royal purple or navy blue. She didn’t wear a lot of colors, per se, but she did have that purple blouse she loved. Oh, and the amethyst earrings… huh. Sloan would have never guessed that her favorite color was dark purple. She was more likely to say blood red or bright, bold blue. Colors that conveyed her personality, not necessarily her tastes. “It’s not only about the color, is it?”
“I figured you’d be a fan of the cut and how much of my body it exposes.”
“Of course. It’s like the others in that regard.”
“Precisely. So, are you still going to punish me?”
Sloan had already forgotten about that. “If you want me to.”
“You told me I had interrupted your dinner with your business partner, so…”
“Don’t worry about it. The bastard needed interrupting.” The more Aaron talked, the more likely Sloan was to suffer a stroke.
Leah took her time responding. “I see.”
Damnit. Sloan was so out of it that she had also forgotten how excited Leah had sounded to receive her first real “punishment” from the woman pulling her puppet strings. Dynamics in these sorts of relationships required a certain finesse that Sloan almost always pulled off… until she was thrown off her game. Thanks, Aaron. If it weren’t for Leah’s call, Sloan would probably be ass deep in a bottle of brandy.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, after giving it a small think, “before I see you again, I want you to write down every time you thought, ‘Damn, I wish Ms. Sloan were here to set me straight.’ Whatever that means to you doesn’t matter. When I see you again, I’ll divvy out what I think is fair.”
“What about in the meantime? I didn’t put on this outfit for nothing.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, then.” Sloan sat up again, her wrinkled camisole riding up her torso and reminding her that Leah wasn’t there to kiss her skin. “You want attention. You’ve got me on the phone.” Her reflection appeared in the vanity mirror a few feet away. “I’m inclined to make you come before I hang up.”
Leah remained silent.
“Take your tits out of your lingerie and pinch your nipples, kitten.” Sloan grabbed her makeup remover and dabbed a small cloth against the faint line of mascara she had applied hours before. “Make sure I hear you moan.”
Phone sex was usually more exciting than what Sloan felt that night. It had nothing to do with Leah’s involvement. The picture and description of why she chose to wear what she did was more than enough to get Sloan’s imagination going. It also wasn’t a matter of her own libido. God help her, it was the time of the month when her body begged her to fuck anyone who moved. No, what I hate right now is what’s going on in my head. For every second Sloan spent concentrating on her girlfriend’s breathy moans and the image dancing in her head, she also spent two more remembering every moment of her life that sent her down the dark spirals of depression.
More than once she tried to get into it on her end, but no matter how much Sloan touched herself or attempted to think of nothing but Leah, her eyes continued to wander to her collage of photographs.
“Please…” Leah whispered through the phone. An unmistakable buzz remained in the background. “Can I please put it on my clit now?”
Sloan leaned against the wall. Her pants were on the floor, her feet bare and her camisole straps falling down her arms, but she was far from the sexual being she should have been in that moment. Her eyes traveled from the photograph of a young Margaret showing off her diamond engagement ring to the picture-perfect bride on her wedding day.
Fuck you for being so happy. You didn’t know a damn thing.
“Yes,” Sloan purred. “Then I’m going to count to ten. If you make it to ten without coming, I’ll give you something very, very special the next time I see you.”
Those were sharp breaths of torture in the background. The perfect soundtrack to Sloan slowly counting to ten as she meandered back to her purse and opened the top flap.
“Ten.”
Leah’s shallow breaths exploded into a loud wail that was quickly muffled by a pillow. Congrats. You get a prize.
Sloan stared at the diamond setting sparkling in her bedroom light. While Leah gradually regained control of her breath and body, Sloan returned to her bed and opened her nightstand with renewed fervor.
“All right, kitten.” She flopped down, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. Her hands were busy elsewhere. “Now it’s your turn. This doesn’t only go one way, you know.”
Rather amazing how quickly her mood could change once a plan began to form. The old Maggie used to hear that was the best part of her personality. Now, she was the only one who reaped the benefits.
Her and Leah, anyway. The more Sloan shared this part of her with another person, the more she remembered what it was like to give parts of her soul away.
Another one for the wall. Someone should have taken a picture of her when she was finished with her phone call. Because that was the moment she realized how important Leah would soon be to her big, grand plans.
Chapter 20
A large cupcake order came in first thing Thursday morning. Leah had enough in her baking pan already, but Enid told her to stop everything she was doing to personally tackle the cupcake decorating. Oh, and it was due by three, when the client wanted to pick them up.
“Yikes,” Gina muttered, before going back to her birthday cake assignment. “What did you do to piss the boss off?”
“More likely that the client dumped a bunch of bonus money into getting this by three.” Leah looked over the instructions. What utter gibberish! Each cupcake was to have fresh white cream frosting, but the only decoration was a single letter or number written on each one. Maybe it’s for some party theme. Leah wasn’t paid to ask questions, however. She was paid to decorate some damned cupcakes, so that’s what she did as soon as she washed up and put on her gloves.
She decorated them in the same grid formation that the instructions came in. Three dozen cupcakes were lined up in neat rows, and the first letter Leah pumped out with dark purple frosting was a big, hearty “C.” The next one was a “G.” A few numbers broke up the monotony.
It wasn’t until she was nearly finished that she realized the cupcakes actually did spell something.
“Chicago, V-Day. No. 47 8:30 am.”
Leah took a step back once the letters and numbers made sense. God knew what she immediately thought of when she saw the name “Chicago.”
V-Day was Valentine’s Day. No. 47… wasn’t that the flight number she took the last time she flew to Chicago to see Sloan? I flew at 8:30 am! Leah dropped her frosting, a gasp rattling her throat.
“What is it?” Gin
a asked, looking up from her Minion’s cake. “Happy Birthday, Didi!” was halfway to spelled out in neon yellow frosting. “Did you fuck up?”
Leah picked up her frosting and insisted that nothing had happened, but as soon as Enid walked back to the check on the projects, Leah asked, “Do you know who made this order?”
Her boss furrowed her brows. “I know who it’s for, but beyond making sure we get paid, I don’t care who puts in the order. Why?”
“No reason. It’s… a weird order, you know?”
“I don’t ask questions, as long as we do it right. Are you done with that, by the way? I need you up front as soon as it’s done.”
“I still have the groom’s cake for…”
“Up front, please. I need to take my lunch.”
As soon as the cupcakes were in the cooler, Leah stole to the front of the shop and waited for the first opportunity to sneak a text to Sloan. “Do you know anything about these cupcakes I made?” She never received a response.
She almost missed the arrival of a young man around three. He popped into the bakery, his sweatshirt heralding him as a member of a local social services center. They had been in the news often, lobbying for new and improved homeless shelters in neighborhoods that desperately needed them. He looked like he hadn’t seen proper sunlight in months.
“Hi…” he sheepishly said to Leah behind the counter. Enid swept up behind her, a petite torrent of businesslike demeanor. “I was told to pick up an order for the Coalition of…”
“Cupcakes, right?” Enid always sounded her most pleasant when dealing with customers. Too bad she doesn’t share an iota of that with her employees. “I was told someone from your organization would be by to pick them up. I’ll be right back.” She was going to personally bring them out herself? How much money had the bakery been paid for this?
