Christmas Bytes

by Brenna Harbor

  She couldn’t deal with this right now. She just couldn’t.

  “How can you say your profession is all in the past when I just literally stumbled across you in mid-act?” She was trying to direct their conversation back on course. Lucy was starting to feel like a fool. She had let this – this stranger – do mind blowing things to her on his living room floor. Probably feeding into the misconception most people had that those in the BDSM community were perverse sex addicts.

  What's wrong with me?

  “What I said just now was harsh. And it was wrong. Despite what came out of my mouth, I really don’t judge you for your past occupation,” Jayce forged ahead. “I mean, I can’t...” he trailed off and spread his hands out with a shrug.

  “I don’t expect other people to understand the depth of what I did in my job,” Lucy popped a piece of her omelet into her mouth and chewed slowly. Wanting to give off a casual air. She was still a little hurt. She didn’t know why, since she was usually so good at brushing off unwelcome opinions. She must be getting rusty.

  “Yes, what I did was sometimes – ok a lot of times – sexual in nature. But it wasn’t about the sex or getting off on it. The bulk of my job was to just provide an unconventional outlet for people to express themselves in a safe place.” At his questioning look, she explained further.

  “Traditional therapy, you know – going and laying down on a sofa while some dude scribbles on a note pad and charges by the hour – that kind of therapy is all fine and great. It works for a lot of folks. But not for all. Just like there are all sorts of hobbies out there for people to enjoy, there are different ways for people to express themselves and get things off of their chests.”

  “So... you didn’t have sex with them?”

  “No. I wasn’t a sex worker,” she took another bite, getting into her explanation. The omelet was delicious. “Not that I think that it’s morally wrong to make a living that way. But that’s beside the point. The boyfriends I had were aware of what I did. I wasn’t ashamed of it.”

  She took a long sip of her coffee, collecting her thoughts.

  “I was more of an... outlet for them. As a dominatrix, people would willingly put their trust into my hands for a period of time. They would trust me with their secret desire to be controlled, a comfort in itself. They would trust me with their bodies, their safety and, most fragile of all, their feelings.”

  “You sound like you had a real passion for the job.”

  “I did,” she stared at her omelet. Appetite vanished. “I miss it very much.”

  “Then why did you quit?”

  Jayce

  He watched as the forlorn expression on Lucy’s face was shuttered behind the return of rigidness she’d had for most of the evening.

  “Personal reasons,” she said flatly. She attacked her omelet with a gusto that he knew she did not feel. “Anyway, that’s not what we’re here for. No more questions about me. I'm not the one needing to defend my actions. I’m giving you one last chance to explain why you were stealing from my bank and kidnapped me before I start yelling for help. I bet the cops could get to this diner really fast.”

  She really did have him over a barrel here. Jayce didn’t know what had possessed him to bring her to a public place to explain himself.

  “You’re right. I didn’t bring you here so that we could argue about what’s ‘right and wrong’. It’s all relative anyway.”

  “Not really. I think its universally frowned upon to steal what’s not yours.”

  He had to bite back a grin at that.

  “What if you’re stealing back something that was stolen from an innocent person in the first place?”

  The fork Lucy held halfway to her mouth didn’t make it in all the way. She set it down with a clink.

  “Explain,” she demanded. His cock jerked in response to her imperious command. He wasn’t too crazy about that reaction. It did seem to bode well for him.

  “I was in the vaults tonight to break into just one specific lock box.” He dashed some Cholula sauce over his dish. “Throughout my career – “She coughed loudly here. – “I have acquired enough money and properties to secure me for a couple of lifetimes. As I said, I came to help a friend. One last job and I was out… I’d had a spotless career of nearly zero incidents until you.”

  Here he raised his coffee cup to salute her before taking a drink.

  “You’re still being very vague. I’m going to need a bit more than that.”

  “My friend’s name is Martin. He and I go way back, as I mentioned before. Martin is an old school type of guy. A godfather of the unwanted and runaway kids of the streets of Chicago. The guy has a heart of gold. But he’s not as sharp and able bodied as he used to be. He called me up a couple of months ago.” He ran a hand over his face, still recalling Martin’s desperate pleas for help. “Some of the teen girls and boys he had been sheltering and trying find placements for, got themselves snatched up walking back to his place from school. The people who took them, he found out through contacts, are members from a crime syndicate that’s been making its runs across the country. They are terrorizing and selling these kids into human trafficking.”

  “Oh my God,” Lucy gasped. Gone was the judgment from her face. It had been replaced with rounded eyes and crease of concern above her brows. “Who would do such a thing to children?”

  “People without souls,” he said flatly, glad that she as horrified as he had been. “I’ll be the first to admit I’ve done some shitty things in the past. But these creeps have me beat, hands down.”

  Lucy picked up her fork and took slow bites of her food, looking lost deep in thought.

  But he wasn’t yet done.

  “One of the runners for this gang is in charge of keeping all the personal and logistical information on these kids. The kind of information that proves that these kids exist and they have had direct contact with their whole organization.” He speared another piece of omelet and chewed with renewed vigor. “A guy I know is handy with computers and tracked down that this guy keeps safety deposit boxes. He has them under different identities, all around the country, with drives containing different data for the gang and about their activities. It just so happens the information we need was kept here. At the newly acquired Granite Forge Bank… until I liberated it from the vaults, that is.”

  Lucy’s horrified look gave him, surprisingly, little pleasure. He had wanted her to understand that importance of what he was doing. He needed her to understand and to not alert the authorities. But he hated the fact that he’d had to expose her to something so ugly to do it.

  “What are the police doing about this?”

  “They aren’t involved.”

  “What?!” she squawked. “Why the hell not?”

  “The authorities have the majority of these kids listed as runaways. They all come from low, socioeconomic backgrounds. Most of the parents of these children have given up looking for them or they simply don’t care. But Martin cares. And I care. Because I was once like them.”

  “But the cops –,”

  “The cops won’t do shit,” he cut her off. “Not until we have evidence on these lowlifes. Evidence that can be used to put them behind bars.”

  Jayce wasn’t going to tell her that when Martin had first pleaded for his help that he had balked. He was a selfish bastard and he had lived his adult life knowing it full well. It had taken several heated phone calls and a final, heart-wrenching plea, that had finally convinced Jayce he needed to help.

  He wasn’t too proud of that.

  “Wow,” she whispered. Her eyes looked glassy. “I had no idea Jayce. I mean, I knew things like that happened. But I’ve always been so far removed from it.”

  “Most people are.” He reached over and grabbed one of her hands across the table. Her fingers were icy and he began to rub them with his own. “And that’s ok. But Lucy, I need you to tell me you understand why I did what I did tonight. I need you to promise me to not report the br
eak in to the bank or the authorities.”

  “But… When this client eventually comes in, they will demand to know what happened to the lock box and why things out of it are missing!”

  “Trust me, he won’t.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “If he confronts the bank, they will have to report that to the police. This guy and the group he’s with will avoid getting the cops involved at all costs,” he told her confidently. Scum were scum and they avoided the law at all costs. He should know.

  Lucy was so pure. Morally speaking. He hadn’t known her long but he understood that she was a person that stood for what was right and just. Despite that her past occupation may have been unconventional.

  “I came to Alta Vista to help a friend,” he started. Lucy tore her gaze from the sleeping town and tuned to him. She had been so caught up in the peaceful aura between that was between and all around them that she had almost forgotten what the circumstances that led to the here and now. Almost.

  Instead of scoffing and making her incredulity clear, she raised a brow at him. She was used to voicing her thoughts. But, making her opinions known so far hadn’t worked with him. Or with other people for that matter.

  “I owe this friend everything,” he said, still looking outside. “Brought me up and out of a life of poverty and mediocrity. He made me who I am today.”

  Jayce looked at her then. She could see the turmoil of memories and convictions swirling in the depths of his eyes and expression.

  “He made you a thief?” Lucy hedged.

  “I made myself into a professional thief,” he parried. “Martin showed me the possibilities and the skills. He didn’t coerce me into it. In the end, it was my decision to make it my vocation.”

  “Your vocation is stealing from innocent people,” Lucy hurled at him in a lowered voice. Aware that they were not quiet alone in the diner. “That’s not a job or a profession. It’s a life of crime pure and simple.”

  “It’s not simple... I won't lie to you and say that I haven't stolen from innocent people,” he leaned forward, making sure her attention was on him “In the past. Not anymore. Believe it or not, it does weigh on my mind.”

  “Oh, I'm sure the all the money you've stolen helps console you at night!”

  “Like whipping old men’s asses for cash is any more dignified?” he retorted, eyes blazing in anger. “Where do you get off on judging me for stealing from the one percent that can spare it? I said I didn’t judge you before about being a dominatrix. That’s true. To each their own. It’d be nice if you practiced a little of what you preach.”

  Lucy couldn’t help the gasp of hurt that escaped her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Really. In the past, people that she had told what her job was had first acted with open-minded curiosity. It had never taken long for them to make assumptions or snide comments when it had suited them.

  At that moment, their waitress came up to their tables with their orders. The plates, loaded generously, were steaming hot and smelled delicious. Jayce sat back as they were set before them and some of the defensiveness in his posture seemed to leave him.

  Lucy’s stomach made its hunger known but her emotions were in knots, making her hesitate to reach for her fork just then.

  “I’m sorry,” Jayce murmured. His own fork picked at his omelet without bringing a bite to his lips.

  She couldn’t deal with this right now. She just couldn’t.

  “How can you say it’s in the past when I just literally stumbled across you in mid act?” She was trying to direct their conversation back on course. She was starting to feel like a fool. She had let this – this stranger – do mind blowing things to her on his living room floor. Probably feeding into the misconception most people had that those in the BDSM community were sex addicts.

  What's wrong with me?

  “What I said was wrong. Despite what came out of my mouth, I really don’t judge you for your past occupation,” Jayce forged ahead. “I mean, I can’t...” he trailed off and spread his hands out with a shrug.

  “I don’t expect other people to understand the depth of what I did,” Lucy popped a piece of her omelet into her mouth and chewed slowly. Wanting to give off a casual air. She was a little hurt. She didn’t know why since she was usually so good at brushing off unwelcome opinions. She must be getting rusty.

  “Yes, what I did was sometimes – ok a lot of times – sexual in nature. But it wasn’t about sex. The bulk of my job was to just provide an unconventional outlet for people to express themselves in a safe place.” At his questioning look, she explained. “Traditional therapy, you know – going and laying down on a sofa while some dude scribbles on a note pad and charges by the hour – that kind of therapy is all fine and great. It works for a lot of folks. But not for all. Just like there are all sorts of hobbies out there for people to enjoy, there is a way for people to express themselves and get things off of their chests.”

  “So... you didn’t have sex with them?”

  “No, I wasn’t a sex worker,” she rolled her eyes. “Not that I think that it’s morally wrong to make a living that way. But that’s beside the point. The boyfriends I had were aware of what I did. I wasn’t ashamed of it.”

  She took a long sip of her coffee, collecting her thoughts.

  “I was more of an... outlet. As a dominatrix, people would willingly put their trust into my hands for a period of time. They would trust me with their secret desire to be controlled, a comfort in itself. They would trust me with their bodies, their safety and, most fragile of all, their feelings.”

  “You sound like you had a real passion for the job.”

  “I did,” she stared at her omelet. Appetite vanished. “I miss it very much.”

  “Then why did you quit?”

  Chapter 6

  Jayce

  He watched as the forlorn expression on Lucy’s face was shuttered behind the return of rigidness and anger she’d had for most of the evening.

  “Personal reasons,” she snipped. She attacked her omelet with a pretend gusto that he knew she did not feel. “Anyway, that’s not what we’re here for. No more questions about me. I'm not the one needing to defend my actions. I’m giving you one last chance to explain why you were stealing from my bank and kidnapped me before I start yelling for help. I bet the cops could get to this diner really fast.”

  She really did have him over a barrel here. Jayce didn’t know what had possessed him to bring her to a public place to explain himself.

  “Your right. I didn’t bring you here so that we could argue about what’s right and wrong. It’s all relative anyway.”

  “Not really. I think its universally frowned upon to steal what’s not yours.”

  “What if your stealing back something that was stolen from an innocent person in the first place?”

  The fork Lucy held halfway to her mouth didn’t make it in all the way. She set it down with a clink.

  “Explain,” she demanded. His cock jerked in response to her imperious command. He wasn’t too crazy about that reaction. It did seem to bode well for him.

  “I was in the vaults tonight to break into just one specific lock box.” He dashed some Cholula sauce over his dish. “I have acquired enough money and jewels to secure me for a couple of lifetimes. As I said, came to help a friend. One last job and I was out… I’s had a spotless career until you.”

  “You’re still being very vague. I’m going to need a bit more than that.”

  “My friend is named Martin. He and I go way back, as I mentioned before. Martin is an old school type of guy. A godfather of the unwanted and runaway kids of the streets. The guy has a heart of gold. But he’s not as sharp and able bodied as he used to be.

  He called me up a couple of months ago. Some of the teen girls and boys he had been sheltering and trying find placements for somehow got themselves snatched walking home from school by members from a crime syndicate that’s been making runs across the country. They are
terrorizing and selling these kids into human trafficking.”

  “Oh my God,” Lucy gasped. Gone was the judgment from her face. It had been replaced with rounded eyes and crease of concern above her brows. “Who would do such a thing to children?”

  “People without souls,” he said flatly, glad that she showed concern. “I’ll be the first to admit I’ve done some shitty things in the past. But these creeps have me beat.”

  Lucy picked up her fork and took slow bites of her food, looking lost deep in thought.

  But he wasn’t yet done.

  “One of the runners for this gang is in charge of keeping all the personal and logistical information on these kids. The kind of information that proves that these kids exist and they have had direct contact to their whole organization.” He speared another piece of omelet and chewed with renewed vigor. “A guy I know is handy with computers and tracked down that this guy keeps safety deposit boxes, under different identities, around the country with drives containing different data on the gang and their activities. It just so happens the information we need was kept here at Granite Forge Bank… until I liberated it from the vaults.”

  Lucy’s horrified look gave him, surprisingly, little pleasure. He had wanted her to understand that importance of what he was doing. He needed her to understand and to not alert the authorities. But he hated the fact that he’d had to expose to something so ugly to do it.

  “What are the police doing about this?”

  “They aren’t involved.”

  “What?!” she squawked. “Why the hell not?”

  “The authorities have the majority of these kids listed as runaways. They almost all come from low socioeconomic backgrounds. Most of the parents of these children have given up looking for them or they simply don’t care. But Martin cares. And I care because I was once like them.”

  “But the cops –,”

  “The cops won't do shit,” he cut her off. “Not until we have evidence on these lowlifes. Evidence that can be used to put them behind bars.”