But one day it didn’t work. The manager called the police and Jamie’s parents, but her parents’ lawyer convinced them not to press charges.
The following weekend, Jamie was ready to try her luck at Target but I was done with it.
If that had been me, I would’ve been arrested and my mother wouldn’t have paid my bail so I would be stuck in jail until my hearing. No, I didn’t have two caring parents who would save me from whatever mess I got myself into so I couldn’t risk so much anymore.
I take a walk around Nicholas’ estate. There is no one outside but the weather is marvelous and the crystal blue water of the pool calls to me. I slip into my bathing suit and dive in.
“One million dollars,” I say when I reach the other side.
I spent all of my years in high school, and especially in college, working as hard as I could just to give myself a chance.
I wanted to get as far away as possible from the life that I grew up in.
I wanted more than anything to not be like my mother.
There is nothing wrong with government assistance and most people who receive it really do need it. But I knew that I could make my own way in life. I don’t have any children and I wanted to make a career that I could be proud of.
I thought that after working for two years at a job that I would have some prospects.
I know that I’m due for a promotion to a position with more responsibility and maybe more money, but is this really what I want to do for the rest of my life? More responsibility and an extra thousand dollars a year still means writing assessment items all day long. And now that I have spent two years doing that, I don’t have experience in another related field, meaning that I would have to start at the bottom at whatever new job I take.
I lie down flat on my back and float with my head half submerged in the water.
I have a good salary, that many people would give anything to have.
I have a nice apartment, a great roommate.
My student loans are all paid for.
So…why am I still considering this?
One million dollars plus fifteen percent of whatever our partnership brings in.
This is the kind of money that changes things. It’s no longer just getting by. It’s no longer living paycheck to paycheck waiting for your annual, one-week vacation.
This is the kind of money that makes a boss obsolete. If invested and allocated properly, this is the kind of money that could set me up for the rest of my life in a very comfortable life.
I fold my arms on the edge of the pool and rest my chin on top.
A tall white bird walks confidently among the lush landscaping outside of the wrap-around porch.
Given the prices in Maui, this house costs a lot more than one million but that million will go a long way toward getting me here.
I take a deep breath.
It’s not just the monetary perks that make me yearn to say yes.
It’s something else.
I have an itch that I haven’t scratched since I gave up replacing sorority girls’ Tiffany jewelry with knock-offs at Wellesley.
I walk back to my cottage to the sound of squeaking rubber as my flip-flops collide with the bottoms of my feet.
There was a time when an opportunity like this was all I ever wanted. But back then I didn’t have much of a life.
To take this chance, I will have to give up my apartment and put my career on hold for a year.
And what happens if something goes wrong?
After taking a shower, I find a large box on the bed.
The note placed on the top reads:
Be ready by 7. Wear this.
NC
The box is beautiful, decorated in ornate swirls of turquoise and gold. I lift up the lid carefully and place it to one side. The contents are packed in perfectly folded tissue paper with a large gold sticker holding everything in place.
My hands shake as I try to peel it off, eventually giving up and just ripping through it.
When I see what’s inside, I gasp.
6
When he sees me…
No wonder he told me not to be prudish, I say to myself, looking at the contents of the box. This isn’t exactly something that a nun would wear.
I take the bra and panties that lay on the top. They are a matching set with the same light gothic design. They are both made from ultra-fine Bobbinet tulle and crisscrossing silk bindings.
The items are so beautiful, I can’t stop myself from trying them on.
Looking at myself in the full length mirror, I admire the way the plunge underwire bra enhances the cleavage without the need for padding.
I run my fingers over the delicate tulle and lace motifs of the thong and linger over the gold rings and double elastic rouleaux sides.
Below another layer of tissue paper, I find the corset. It has a curved front hem with diamond-shaped paneling that wraps all the way around the back.
There’s a knock on the door. A rush of adrenaline courses through my body. I look around for something to cover myself up with. The only thing big enough is the towel.
“It’s not seven,” I say.
“I thought you may need some help,” Nicholas says.
Dressed in a two piece blue suit with a notched lapel and a three-button front, he looks me up and down with a smile.
“I’m not ready yet.” I straighten my back.
“I’m not sure that’s part of the outfit,” he says, touching the welt pocket on the right side of his chest.
I adjust the towel to make sure it’s tighter.
“Drop the towel,” Nicholas says.
“No.”
“This is part of the deal.”
“What? You seeing me in provocative clothing?”
“No, you wearing this to tonight’s event,” Nicholas says. “All of it.”
He motions to the corset.
I clench my jaw.
“This is part of the deal. The mark will be there and we both have to fit in.”
I cross my arms and sit down on the edge of the bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not going anywhere wearing that. I look like an escort.”
“You’re not an escort but this job may require you to look like one on occasion. So what?”
“So what? I don’t need this,” I say.
“Actually, I have a feeling that you do,” he says boldly.
There’s a rush that comes with doing something like this.
The anticipation alone is intoxicating.
It’s like waiting for sex.
The foreplay that goes on and on…in some ways it’s better than the orgasm.
But then, when you get away with it, a wave of relief sweeps over you consuming everything in sight…that’s why I have to put on these clothes.
The anticipation starts to build. This is a costume that I need to be the person that the mark needs me to be.
I walk up to the mirror and let go of the towel.
Nicholas’ eyes are on me.
They make their way up my body carefully but without a tinge of desire.
He is in work mode and he isn’t looking at me like a woman wearing provocative lingerie.
He’s looking at me the way that a designer looks at the set that he has just constructed. There’s a window out there and a table to the left and a door leading backstage. All of the pieces are fake but the question is, do they look real enough for the audience to suspend their disbelief enough to get through the show?
Without another word, Nicholas hands me the corset.
It’s a deep-cut, timeless, sexy piece made of Chantilly Leavers lace with satin panels and boning. The lining is made of tulle and it comes with four detachable suspender straps. He helps me fasten the hooks, trimming my waist and forming my body into the ideal female hourglass figure.
“Perfect,” he says.
I glance at myself in the mirror.
Whatever insecurities I have about
my body seem to vanish even though I am not wearing much when it comes to clothes.
Everything about the outfit is flattering and alluring. It draws the eye only to my best features while minimizing the rest.
“I don’t have any pantyhose,” I say.
“We’ll just have to fix that,” Nicholas says, getting down on one knee.
He gets so close to me I feel his slow deep breaths on my thigh.
Shivers run down my spine.
I shift my weight from one foot to another.
His fingers run up the side of my leg and tug at the first suspender strap.
It unfastens quickly, dropping into his hand. Instead of leaning over, he places one hand on my butt and another on my stomach and twists me slightly.
Another strap is off.
He twists me again, only this time his hand lingers a bit on my naked buttocks. I love the feel of my ass in his strong hands and revel in the moment.
He takes off another strap and unfortunately there aren’t ten more.
I glance down at him.
Our eyes meet.
I can see his professionalism wavering.
I lift up his chin higher and sweep my fingertips across his lower lip.
My heart rate speeds up. He opens his mouth and wraps it around my finger, pulling it inside.
My knees get weak.
When they start to wobble, Nicholas grabs my butt cheeks again and spins me again.
“Two more straps to go,” he says. “Stand up straight.”
My legs feel weak as if I’m about to fall down. I take one step to the side and then another.
Instead of going up my side, this time, his hands hesitate just below the small of my back.
I clench my butt and then relax, allowing my cheeks to fall naturally into his cupped hands.
My body jerks and another strap comes off.
One last twist.
I adjust my stance so that he actually has to put some force into it.
He places one hand on top of the panty line and runs the other one down my butt, outlining the contours of each curve.
Fire starts to build within my core. His fingers run down the inside of my thighs and then back up.
He stops for a moment, touching the thong right between my legs for just a moment before continuing on and removing the last strap.
My body deflates from disappointment.
Nicholas smiles, pleased with his power, and gives me a little slap on my ass. “Let’s go,” he says.
7
When it’s time to play…
Luckily, the drive to this place isn’t far because sitting in this corset makes it nearly impossible to breathe. The bones that keep the corset tight and in place, shaving inches off my normal waist and giving it an unattainably small diameter is the same thing that makes bending at the middle futile.
“How did you find out that I have a history with this kind of…work?” I ask.
I’ve never been arrested or convicted of anything before. I never told anyone, not even Sydney.
I always worked alone so telling others was an unnecessary risk.
By the time Sydney and I got to be close friends, I’d put that part of my life behind me.
I locked the secret up in a little box and promised myself never to open it again.
But that’s the thing about secrets, if they are forced into a dark place, they find a way out.
“I already told you,” Nicholas says. “I’m very good at research.”
“But there is no one who knew anything about this.”
“Just because there were no charges doesn’t mean that there weren’t people who had their suspicions about you.”
My fingertips turn to ice.
“Who?” I ask in a whisper.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Nicholas shakes his head. “I do not reveal my sources. All I can say is that they’re not after you. It was just a Tiffany necklace. She married a man who could buy her twenty of them a day.”
I search my mind for names. The problem is that I had gone through so many dorm rooms and so many jewelry boxes that I couldn’t possibly know every owner’s name.
None of the women confronted me.
None of them even acted suspiciously around me.
“Why did you stop?” he asks as we pull up to a large manor house.
“I got close once. Close to getting caught. There was a big fraternity party that all the Kappa Kappa Kappa girls were obviously invited to. It wasn’t going to be a lavish affair, more like the exact opposite. Raunchy and dirty with a mud wrestling pit for those who really wanted to impress the guys. None of the women were going to wear their expensive jewelry to this party and I had some time to break in and go through the merchandise carefully.”
I’ve never told anyone this story before.
It feels good to share it now, especially with someone who understands the desire to take what’s not yours.
The expert way that he lifted that bracelet off Kathy Moreno and replaced it almost simultaneously with a fake made me realize that he might be one of the few people in the world to know how I feel.
“What happened?” he asks.
“That night I got away with about ten thousand dollars’ worth of stuff. I replaced them with good quality replicas that cost me about a grand, so that was a good night’s work,” I say. “But when I got home, something happened. No one suspected a thing and it had nothing to do with getting caught. I just felt…bad. I’d occasionally have these pangs of remorse over what I was doing, and they were debilitating.”
Nicholas nods to keep me talking.
But I don’t need any additional encouragement.
“One part of me would say that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s not like these women deserved to get ripped off but they wouldn’t even know that anything happened, so who was I really hurting? What was the big deal? But another part of me, the one that kept me up at night, would gnaw at my conscience. It doesn’t matter if anyone knew what I was doing, it doesn’t matter how much money they had or how little money I had, all that mattered was that stealing was wrong and I was better than that.”
A valet opens the door for me and I step out in my sky high stilettos.
I am not an expert heel wearer by any stretch of the imagination, so I take each step with care and deliberation.
This way I don’t look like I don’t know what I’m doing, instead, I look like I’m just taking my time getting there.
“So, you haven’t run a con since?” Nicholas asks, taking me by my arm.
I cinch my trench coat a little tighter around the waist and shake my head.
“I went to counseling to stop,” I say. “But in order for it to work, I needed to divulge details, which I wasn’t ready to talk about. So, I quit cold turkey.”
He leads me up the steps and I lean on him for support.
“Is this something I should be worried about?”he asks as we walk inside a glamorous modern house with minimalist furniture.
A woman standing at a podium next to the double doors at the entrance asks for our names.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs. Puglisi, the coat check is right over there.”
There is no one else in the foyer besides us and the thought of taking off my trench coat makes me sick to my stomach.
I cross my arms, tightening my hands around my shoulders to make sure that nothing can take my cover away from me.
But when we enter the adjacent room with a bartender and couples in various states of undress lounging, drinking, and laughing, my anxiety lessens.
The women are dressed in a lot more provocative clothing that I am and the men are hardly wearing anything except for tight underwear that leave very little to the imagination.
“Feel free to get a drink and explore the house. Different things happen in different rooms. This room over here is for socializing. Then when you want more privacy, you can go into
the back rooms. Some are just for women. Some are just for men, others are for couples and another is for everyone to enjoy themselves together.”
I hand over my trench coat and Nicholas takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie.
Something comes over me and I reach over and unbutton his shirt.
He smiles.
“You getting in the mood?” he asks without stopping me.
I lick my lips.
It’s not so much the others that get me excited, it’s really just him.
Once his shirt falls open, I move the tie out of the way and run my fingers over each defined pectoral muscle.
They relax and flex with each breath and I bite my lower lip to hold back the excitement that starts to build in my core.
At the bar, I take my martini and watch Nicholas take a sip of his whiskey.
We make firm eye contact before he gazes down at my breasts. This very expensive bra does make them look amazing.
I glance around the room.
Nicholas’ eyes aren’t the only ones on me.
We are the newcomers here. Fresh meat. We’re here to do a job, but first, it’s time to play.
8
When we meet them…
Carrying our drinks, we make our way toward the far end of the room where two groups of couples sit perched on a fat leather couch. The tall blonde has her hands on the crotch of the man next to her who is dressed in nothing but a black pair of James Bond style knickers.
I can see his massive package and she licks her lips as she feels it.
The couples are so engrossed in conversation that I wonder if they will make room for us.
They do.
The smaller brunette seizes her gaze on my bosom and immediately sits up and waves us over. Her legs part and cross at the ankles and I mimic her body position when I sit down.
Nicholas introduces us as Thomas and Meredith Puglisi.
Just a couple of everyday normal couples coming to a strange house to meet other normal couples they can hook up with. I can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of this situation. And yet…at the same time…maybe this is my chance.
Tell Me to Go Page 3
