by A. J. Downey
“First off, let me reiterate, your job is safe, Ally.” Oh, shit. He was serious. He never called me ‘Ally’ anymore. It was always ‘Ms. Blaylock.’ “Second, you may tell absolutely no one about this. What goes on in this house is my business. What goes on between us is our business.”
“What other conditions apply?” I asked faintly, still in disbelief but knowing in my heart there had to be more.
“If you say ‘no’, you still have a job. I will never take that away from you unless you breach my trust.”
“Why would I do that?” I demanded, affronted. “I would never do that.”
A faint smile graced his lips, and it made my chest ache for an entirely different reason. I swallowed hard and thought about what he was asking. I mean, I would be lying to myself if I said that I hadn’t had just the slightest bit of deviant pleasure at being nude in this beautiful man’s space. Now, here he was, asking me to do it… trying to pay me more for it…
I did not see this coming, I thought, but I couldn’t deny how flushed the idea made me feel. How my body tingled and ached in delicious ways at the prospect of it.
Still, the why of it bothered me; why would a man like Damien Parnell want something like this? I mean, he wouldn’t even be here to enjoy it… Well, he isn’t here when you get naked and you enjoy it. Maybe it was the same thing? Just the knowing was enough. Yeah, but what happens when the just knowing isn’t enough anymore? I asked myself, and was surprised that the delicious ache at the apex of my thighs intensified rather than diminished. I didn’t quail at the thought. Not until I thought about the money. I mean, right now I needed that money, but I wouldn’t always, would I?
No, don’t think about that Ally… you don’t want to think about that.
He watched me think it over, his expression neutral as he waited for my answer. I swallowed hard and said, “May I think about it some more?”
“Of course,” he said, and I swallowed hard.
“How long do I have?”
“As long as you’d like, but before you walk out that door tonight, I’m afraid I’m going to need an answer.”
I pursed my lips and stared at his whiskey glass, at the way the amber liquid coated the side of it as he absently swirled it. I mean, couldn’t he get in far more trouble for this than me?
I looked back up sharply and said, “I’ll do it… but you don’t have to pay me extra.”
He smiled a secret little smile and said, “Well that would be my pleasure, Ms. Blaylock.”
“Show me how to turn off the cameras?” I asked, feeling a little more solid, a little braver.
“Well, now, that would be my pleasure, too.” He moved to stand and I stood too, abruptly, the effects of the adrenaline wearing off now. My hands felt slightly shaky, and I honestly felt like I trembled all over. He took me to the security panel and showed me how to turn off the cameras after I disabled the alarm. It was surprisingly easy but required I enter the alarm’s code again.
He had me do it twice to be sure that I got it, and took a sip of his drink. We stood there for a moment, in silence and he said, “Look at me.” I rolled my lips and did as he asked. He fixed me with those beautiful dark eyes of his and his voice became low and controlled. Words said just between us.
“You’re safe here, Ally. No judgment, no recriminations. What you do here, what we do here, is between two consenting adults and you may revoke that consent at any time. You want to stop, it stops. No penalties, no harm, no foul.”
“Okay,” I whispered and even though I knew that the words sounded too good to be true, that anywhere else, anyone else delivering them likely didn’t mean them. I knew, deep down, that Mr. Parnell did. He wasn’t lying to me or bullshitting me. He meant it and I could trust what he said.
The moment hung between us, weighted with promise and he touched gentle fingertips to my chin, his eyes roving my face. He smiled slightly at whatever he saw and said, “Your eyes are red from crying. Go splash some cool water on your face. It will help.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmured and his breath caught. He nodded at me to go do what I was told and I did. The more I thought about things, the stranger they seemed to me, but I had to deal with them on my own, process them on my own. I couldn’t tell anyone. Certainly not my grandmother and as much as I loved her, definitely not Dawnie. They wouldn’t understand but this... this whole idea, this whole exchange of power between us, I understood. It tapped into a very basic part of me; it flipped some hidden switch and made me come alive with a tingling rush.
Still, no one could know. Understanding for these kinds of things didn’t come easily to regular people. Well, Dawnie might get it. Not only because of the books that we liked to read, but because she was my best friend and knew me sometimes better than I knew myself. It was strange feeling that way about a man, but here I was, and when it came to Mr. Parnell? The same sentiment echoed. The same sort of darkness in him called to some of my own and I loved it, I was definitely attracted to it, but I was still unsure of it. Not because of anything he had done but more of what other people might think. I mean, what would other people think? Probably nothing good and it was best not to find out.
When I returned to the living room, he stood by the door. The whiskey glass was gone and he held my totes and purse out to me.
“Have a good evening, Ms. Blaylock,” he said, and I swallowed.
“Thank you; you too, Mr. Parnell.”
“I shall enjoy the cookies; thank you for them.”
I smiled at that, my heart lightening, and he opened the door and showed me out.
13
Yale…
She had begun making it a habit to text me when she arrived to tell me she was shutting off the cameras. If I was lucky, I would catch her at the panel before she did it. She was always clothed then, of course, but I didn’t always get down to the café now that the Reeves case was in full swing when it came to trial. Closing arguments had been given, and the jury was in deliberations. It had been one of the most exhausting cases of my career to date and I wasn’t at all sure I was going to win it.
I’m here; I’m turning off the cameras now.
I quickly signed into the app governing my home security system and felt my chest ease when Ally’s pretty face came into view. Colorless, of course, due to the cameras, but no less lovely, even if I missed the startling color of her green eyes. The cameras disengaged and the screen went black with the pop-up message asking if I wished to re-engage them. I hit ‘no’, as good as my word, just as one of the city’s paralegals stuck his head into my office.
“Verdict on the Reeve’s case is in,” he declared, grimly.
“What? Shit! Already?” I stood up quickly and shoveled the folders I’d taken out of my briefcase back in. They hadn’t deliberated more than a couple of hours at this point. That typically meant bad news for the prosecution. Very bad.
“Chrissy!” I barked, and she looked up from her desk in the office across from mine, her phone pressed to her ear. She said something into the receiver at the look on my face and dropped it onto the cradle.
“What’s wrong?” she called out.
“Reeves verdict is in, let’s roll!”
“Wait, what?” she said, alarmed, “Are you kidding me? Please, tell me you’re joking right now!”
“I wish I were.” I shrugged into my jacket, and we hauled ass down to the street, to the courthouse around the next block. We moved briskly through the other pedestrians on the sidewalk and Chrissy tried to placate me.
“We laid the case out as clear as could be. Even a toddler could follow along. As a matter of law, she’s guilty as sin. The jury has to know that,” she said, her breathing becoming more labored.
“The defense played to the jury’s emotions. Those people saw a scared, barely legal teen on that stand,” I snarled.
“Look, Yale, we don’t know,” she said. “We won’t know until we hear the verdict.”
“That girl buried that baby alive; they
’d better not let her off,” I growled.
We took the courthouse steps two at a time and returned to our designated courtroom. The air was thick with tension, the atmosphere crackling with apprehension. My adrenaline raced, my pulse throbbed in my temple. I gripped the back of my chair as the bailiff commanded we all rise.
“The Honorable Judge Angela Marie Bendyk is now presiding.”
I liked Judge Bendyk; she was both tough and fair. Also, as far as a lot of the judges went, she was easy on the eyes. She wore her long brown hair pulled into a severe bun, and subtle makeup that didn’t look like she wore any at all. Her brown eyes were quick and I liked a woman who could be shrewd, which she was ‒ she didn’t let either side get away with bullshit, which in turn usually made my job easier. Very rarely did it make it harder.
I went through the motions, sitting, the jury being led in, listening through all the bullshit legalese we all spent way too much time and money to learn just to hear the fucking verdict which was…
The courtroom held its collective breath; we had shot hard for depraved indifference homicide, and if this little bitch got off, my faith in humanity was going to be irreparably damaged.
Come on, lady, come on, lady, come on, you bastards, do the right thing! My brain chanted at them. The forewoman looked up and said the magic word.
“Guilty‒” and the rest of what she said was drowned out by the gallery leaping to their feet and cheering. A sentiment from which Chrissy and I were not immune, we just couldn’t show it.
“Oh, my god, I need a drink after that!” Chrissy said, fanning herself as soon as we hit the street.
I hailed a cab, “You and me both.”
It was a mistake; I didn’t usually make mistakes. Not of that magnitude.
We went to the 10-13 and I had just enough to drink that it was just this side of too much. I was pleasantly buzzed as I pushed back from the bar and declared, “After that shit-show, I think I have earned myself a good night’s sleep.”
Chrissy giggled, and Youngblood put his arms around her as she said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure the next horror show to keep us up at night will be along shortly.” The proclamation held the bitter edge of one of the rest of us rank and file, and as a lawyer, I could appreciate that even as a defense attorney in the big firm she’d come from, that she had heard and seen some things to damage the psyche.
“Have a fantastic evening,” I told them both. “I am sure you are absolutely correct, but for now, we’ve earned at least one evening.”
“Just one,” Chrissy agreed, and raised her wine glass in salute.
I chuckled and picked up my briefcase from the floor beside my barstool, plucked my trench coat from the bar and tossed it over my arm.
“Night, Yale!” they chimed in unison, and I smiled, giving them a wave over my shoulder.
Youngblood whispered something in her ear and she giggled. He was sober, but she was probably just a little bit tipsy. I gave a sharp nod to Skids who was at the other end of the bar talking to a waitress, and he raised a hand in farewell.
I pushed out of the 10-13’s front door into the late summer heat, stepping up to the curb and hailing a cab. The ride home was relatively short, I could have walked it, but I was feeling lazy. I should have walked it – because when I keyed my way into the apartment, there was Ally, frozen like a deer and just as graceful, in my kitchen, nude and perfect.
I blinked, long and slow, and let my gaze rove what I could see of her, from her face down to where she was hidden behind the counter.
“My apologies,” I said with all sincerity. “I should have texted I was coming home early.” Which was the truth. In the furor the early verdict caused, I had completely forgotten she was here. “You may absolutely get dressed if you’d like…”
Her wide green eyes blinked once, and the tension riding her shoulders eased as she glanced me over from head to toe and back again. She swallowed hard and asked, “Why would I do that?” and stepped around the end of the counter so that I could see her better.
I felt my lips curve into an appreciative smile and more tension eased out of how she held herself. I fully blame the alcohol when it came to my lack of control for what I said next…
“Dear god, I want to play with you.”
14
Ally…
I froze mid-step and cocked my head, searching his face as I drew a breath and asked, “Play with me? I don’t think I understand.” Okay, that was a lie. I didn’t generally like being manipulative, but I really wanted to hear him say it and I really wanted him to do it. It was hard to be here, in his space, naked all the time, and not be acutely aware of my sexuality.
Everything was different now, everything felt different and held that dangerous edge of sex to it. The simple act of wiping down a counter or dusting a shelf sent my breasts swaying, the cooler air of the air conditioned apartment against my exposed skin sent me into spontaneous shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. When I knelt or bent to pick something up, my sex felt exposed and no matter what I did I couldn’t stop thinking about him. How could I?
Of course, thinking about him led to fantasizing about him, which led to wanting and wishing and that led me to this near-constant state of low-level arousal that I couldn’t always patiently wait until I was home to do something about.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, and I shook my head before he could apologize.
“Genie’s out of the bottle… what did you mean?” I swallowed hard, and brought one hand up, wrapping it around the elbow of my other arm. I wasn’t hiding from him. If I hid from him, then it would mean I was ashamed, that what we were doing was wrong, and though other people may think that way, I didn’t feel that way; not at all.
He set down his briefcase in the entryway and moved to hang up his long coat in the hall closet. That through, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and did the same. He sighed out, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them back over his forearms. He looked back at me over his shoulder and finally turned, tugging at his tie, unknotting it. I licked my lips and waited for an answer and his jaw tightened. He dragged that sweeping gaze of his from my head to my feet and back up, letting it linger in choice places but not luridly.
“You know what I mean, Ally…”
“You mean sexually,” I said, slowly.
He nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons at his collar. I swallowed hard and he smiled. It held an edge of want, a naked desire I felt in my own heart and I licked my lips again, running the bottom one between my teeth.
“What are the rules?” I asked softly, and it was his turn to freeze and contemplate me the same way I had contemplated him a moment before.
“It stops when you say it stops,” he said, and he closed his eyes, the struggle clear on his face.
“And what if I don’t want it to stop?” The question was out of my mouth before I even knew I was going to ask it. Something akin to adrenaline surged through my veins the moment the final word was uttered, and I held very still as if any sort of movement would shatter this moment between us. For some reason, the very thought of that made me ache with a sort of grief. I hadn’t realized just how attracted I was to my boss, or just how lonely I was… physically among other things.
He bowed his head, a smile curving his lips, but he didn’t immediately answer. Finally, it was as if he had come to a decision. He gripped the back of his neck briefly and then dropped his hand to his side. He drew himself up to his full height, and it was as if that commanding presence of his wrapped around him like a cloak. He speared me where I stood with that dark gaze of his, and I was suddenly a rabbit in a trap, heart fluttering wildly in my chest, joining the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
“Go into my bedroom,” he ordered. “In the nightstand to the left of the bed, bottom drawer, there is a roll of black velvet. Bring it to me, and don’t look inside.”
I swallowed hard and guessed that we were playing. I went and did as I was bi
d, padding quickly down the hall; the smooth, polished wood of his floors cool beneath my feet, the carpet in his bedroom warm and plush. I crouched in front of the nightstand and smoothly pulled open the bottom drawer. I lifted the bundle he’d requested free and slid it shut. Clutching it to my chest, I returned to the main open living area of his apartment. He stood by the dining room table, his shirt untucked and now open and I froze again.
“Come here,” he said calmly and I did. He pulled out one of the chairs and set it aside. I held out the roll of stuff he asked for and he set it aside, at the next place setting. He took a half step toward me and laid a gentle hand on my hip and I jumped at the unexpected, intimate little touch. He cocked his head slightly and drew me towards him, arm curving around my lower back.
I held my breath, as I moved into his personal space, his energy calm, almost frozen, and completely in control. I rested a hand on his muscled chest over his tattoo and let my eyes drift to the ink beneath his skin. The entirety of the right side of his chest and shoulder was done in a beautiful black and white image of some sort of family crest. Surrounding it, in the background and onto his shoulder was Lady Justice, blindfolded and holding her scales before her, a sword upraised as if leading a charge in her other hand.
“Ally,” he said softly and I jerked my hand back guilty, his professionally pressed and fitted blue shirt falling forward to cover the shoulder again.
“Sorry,” I murmured, blushing hard. He tipped my chin with two gentle fingers and I swallowed hard, meeting his obsidian eyes. Cool and appraising, they held a secret little smile that I couldn’t define.
“Sit up on the table,” he ordered gently, walking me backward to it. I pressed my palms flat on the highly polished wood surface but paused.
“You really want my ass on your dining room table?” I asked softly, and he smiled at me with patience before saying, “I have a wonderful housekeeper. I’ll ask her to clean it for me.”
