May 14, 2008
Fiction
The Scarf
Dani fingered the silk scarves with an almost audible moan. The nearby saleswoman glanced over and smiled. Their bright colors pinwheeled around a mirrored pillar, and Dani laid her bag down on the counter to reach for one—orange silk, like flame—and tied it around her hair, posing.
She pouted and blew a kiss at her image in the mirror, then undid the knot with one hand as she reached for a green one—emerald as fresh cut grass, decorated with daisies. This she tied around her neck, flipping her honey blond hair back behind her shoulders as she turned her chin one way and then the other.
Next, a pink one decorated with golden prints of saddles and chains, then a scarf the blue of the summer sky; she tried each on, then discarded them in turn. A growing pile of scarves mussed the department store’s tidy counter, and the painfully thin saleswoman looked over once more, her smile frozen. “May I help you find something, ma’am?”
Dani turned, her smile wide and shyly apologetic. “I’m too indecisive, I think. They’re all so beautiful. I want them all!”
The saleswoman’s smile turned the slightest bit warmer, thinking of her commission. “The orange was lovely with your eyes.”
“I guess,” Dani shrugged and sighed. Looking past the clerk, she pointed at a particularly vibrant purple on the other side of the table. “May I see that one?”
“Of course.” The woman turned around, neatly sliding the scarf out, and turned back to Dani, presenting it on her arm. Dani reached for it, then stopped as she caught sight of the woman’s watch.
“Oh, no. Is that the time? I’m so sorry—I’m late. Thank you for your help!”
Grasping the shoulder straps of her bag tightly, her arm pressing it to her side, she slid on her sunglasses and stepped away from the scarf display, threading her way through the makeup counters to the front door. As she neared the exit, her smile widened. Mere steps from the door, a tall man in a dark suit blocked her way.
Dani looked up petulantly, “Excuse me.”
“I’m sorry, miss; if you could come with me?”
“What? Why? I’ve an appointment. I’m late.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be even later. This way, please.” He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and half-levered, half-led her back into the store. Past the counters of makeup named after candy, past the silk scarves and handbags, past the perfume, and through an unmarked door near the elevators. Dani tried to maintain her righteous indignation at being handled roughly even as her heart beat faster.
•
“Have a seat, Miss.” The security guard—that’s what he most definitely was—gestured to a chair on the far side of a table situated in the center of the room as he turned to close the door. His expression when he turned back and found her standing exactly where he had released her arm was a mix of surprise and annoyance that accentuated his angular features. He looked down at Dani, his big hands brushing his jacket back to rest on his hips; the stance of a parent regarding a recalcitrant child. “I’ve asked you to have a seat, Miss,” he repeated. “I’m fairly certain you should do that.”
Dani’s pulse increased again, but she clung to her bluff. She tipped her chin up, muscles working along her fine jaw line. “Just what is this all about?”
The man’s hard blue eyes met her soft hazel gaze. He leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them by an inch that felt much more intrusive. “It’s about the scarf you didn’t pay for.” His voice was a growl. “Now sit. Down.”
Heat flushed through Dani’s face. She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and moved to the indicated seat, noting as she did so the bank of security monitors mounted on the wall above a plain desk in the corner.
The guard sat down as well, pulling a clipboard and form across the table to him. “Identification, please.”
“Excuse me?”
His pen paused on the form. “I need to see your ID.”
“I don’t see w-”
He set the clipboard and pen down on the table with a clack that made her jump. “This is going to be a very long day for the both of us, Miss.” His eyes were bright as they searched her face, and his lips were pressed together, emphasizing the hard angles of his face beneath his close-cropped hair, looking for all the world like a Master Sergeant about to dress down his troops.
That thought weakened Dani’s resolve. “Fine,” she muttered, fishing into her bag for her ID, then pushing it across the table to him. He continued to watch her face for several seconds before picking it up, with the clipboard, and resuming his work on the form.
“Danielle Montgomery . . .” he read aloud as he transcribed her name to the form. He tilted his head slightly to read the next line of the ID, then resumed writing. “You have a very nice home address for a shoplifter, Miss Montgomery.”
Dani’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at the blatant accusation. She aborted her first impulse to get to her feet, and crossed her arms tightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” The guard glanced up at her, paused a moment, then returned to the form. “You’re saying you’re wrongly accused?” There was a hint of irony in his voice.
“Yes!” Dani felt her skin flush again, this time in indignation.
“Then you won’t mind emptying the contents of your hand bag out here on the table?”
“Of course I mind,” Dani snapped, her anger overwhelming her nervousness. “It’s an invasion of privacy, and . . .” her mouth worked. “And you don’t have any proof.”
The guard’s pen stopped moving again. He set the clipboard down, leaned his lanky frame back in the chair, and folded his hands across his midsection; only then did his eyes meet hers. “That” he began, “is a funny situation. You see, I believe I saw you on that monitor,” he indicated the screen in question with a motion of his chin, “and I believe I saw you tuck a scarf into your handbag. But this . . .” He leaned forward and pushed himself up out of the chair and paced around the table toward the screens. “This is a live feed display. I can’t rewind it and have another look.” He turned back to Dani and leaned forward, resting his hands on the end of the table. “Not without calling the main office and asking the guy there do it for me.”
Dani’s forehead creased. “I don’t -”
“That,” he interrupted, “makes things much more official, Miss Montgomery.” His eyes were steady on hers. “Much more official, if you see my meaning.”
Slowly, hoping she understood, Dani set her purse on the table and carefully upended it.
The guard reached forward and plucked the fiery orange silk scarf from the pile. “Well, well,” he said.
His smug expression, although concealed, was still apparent to Dani. Her jaw clenched and she began grabbing the rest of her things and throwing them back in her bag. “You know what? Fine. I grabbed a stupid scarf. It’s nothing. If this is ‘unofficial’, then you’ve done your job and had your fun and I’m getting out of here.” She shoved herself to her feet and strode toward the door, heels clicking.
She held out her hand to retrieve her ID and turned, only to find him standing between her and the door. “Excuse me.”
“Sorry Miss,” he said, his face neutral. “There’s one last thing.”
Dani nearly ground her teeth in frustration. “What?”
“Untuck your blouse, please.”
“Excuse me?”
His head tilted to the side, his eyes slightly narrowed. “It’s occurred to me that you might have tucked another scarf or two around your person. I need to make sure you haven’t dropped any down your shirt.”
“There is,” Dani’s voice began to rise, “no way -”
“Do you want me to check the recording instead?” His voice cut through hers, though he wasn’t speaking at all loudly.
Seconds ticked by on the cheap clock hanging next to the desk.
“Fine,” she growled. She pulled at her blouse, so angry she nearly tore the fabric as she pulled it loose from the waistband of her skirt and lifted it enough to show her midriff. “Happy?”
She looked up to see his pale eyes scanning her bare skin, his face in a particular expression—gone before she could really see it—that made her feel very exposed. She dropped the shirt and her gaze, then took two quick steps to the door. He still hadn’t moved.
“One more thing, miss,” he murmured, stopping her, “hold still, please.”
“What?”
His hands were on her before she could move; firm and businesslike, calluses rasping over the silk of her blouse, fingertips tracing her sleeves, under her arms, along her ribs. His hands slid forward and around her, just under the curve of her breasts, then back, and his thumbs pressed down along the muscles along either side of her spine, flipping her shirt up enough to tactilely inspect the waistline of her skirt.
Frisking her. Frisking her.
She jumped when his hands pressed along the point of her hips—a hypersensitive area on Dani that was just short of ticklish.
“Sorry, Miss.” His voice was strange; even-toned and brisk, but too low; too quiet. “Almost done here.”
“Done with what?” Her voice sounded shrill in her ears; forced too high by surprise mixed with anger.
His hands rode the curve of her hips and—completely unnecessarily—swiped down both of her stocking-clad legs, his thumbs trailing along the seams. He didn’t answer until he had stood back up and moved around in front of her. “Making sure you didn’t take something I’d missed.” His eyes met hers. “A strip-search didn’t seem entirely necessary.” Seconds ticked by on the clock, his eyes on hers.
She forced her voice to remain calm, despite the thump of her pulse. “If I can go?”
There was a pause, then the guard stepped out of the way and opened the door for her like a bellboy.
She was almost through the doorway when he gripped her arm again, pulling her to a stop.
“The penalties are more serious for second offenses, Miss,” his voice rumbled in her ear. “You should remember that.”
•
Dani had flung herself into the first taxi she found after leaving the store, and fumed for days at the high handedness of the security guard. Ten times a day, she found herself muttering “How dare he?” under her breath, even as, at night, his angular features and strong hands began to make an appearance in her dreams, quickly forgotten in the morning light. She avoided the store, which used to be her favorite, crossing to the other side of the street when she passed it on her usual shopping excursions—and if she slid a new lipstick or pair of earrings, or a lace tank top into another boutique’s shopping bag without paying for it, there was no security guard to stop her.
Several weeks later, desperate for a new dress to wear to a galley opening, she returned to the store. As she stepped through the glass doors and once more breathed that perfectly familiar concoction of mixed perfumes, Dani couldn’t help but scan the sales floor, looking for him, but he was nowhere to be seen in the crush of women surrounding the makeup counters, eager to be remade and beautified.
She ascended the escalators and spent an hour in the designer collections, picking up several possibilities for the opening, leaving the dressing room a mess behind her, her discarded choices littering the floor and couch. Returning to the main floor, Dani paused among the racks of jewelry, fondling the wooden bangles and dangling chandelier earrings in gold, silver, and semi-precious stones. Smiling at the saleswoman who offered her help, she browsed, but bought nothing before turning once more to the exit and striding confidently forward.
At the door, her bag clutched in her left hand as she reached for the handle with her right, she felt him nearby a split second before his hand reached over hers and clasped a cool silver bracelet around her wrist.
“What the-?” She turned to face him with fire in her eyes, but he took Dani’s shopping bag from her and stepped once more behind her back, locking the other half of the handcuffs around her wrist.
“Miss Montgomery, if you’ll come with me?”
His fingers were spread on the small of her back, above her bound hands, and he pushed her forward, back into the store again. Back to the room she hadn’t thought to see again. Hoped, perhaps, in those darkest fantasies she conveniently forgot in the morning, but hadn’t planned on visiting again.
No one noticed as they slipped from the sales floor.
•
“You are failing to demonstrate learning behavior, Miss Montgomery.” The guard sat in the chair Dani had occupied during her last visit, his rawboned hands folded across his midsection. He studied her where she stood across the table—he had not offered her a seat, and didn’t seem inclined to. “Would you mind telling me exactly what it is you’re trying to prove by continuing these activities in my store?”
“Your store?” Dani’s gaze swung up, her expression one of mock astonishment. “I have to confess, I had no idea.”
He met her gaze, unflinching, and it was Dani who looked away first.
His chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back from the table and stood. “Yes,” he said, walking around the table. “This is a very well regarded and fashionable place of business. I am responsible for the security of this business and, as you are beginning to understand, I am very good at what I do. I will not have trouble in my store.” He stopped, standing at her side, looking down at her. “Even when the trouble-maker is Danielle Montgomery.” He leaned in toward her, unknowingly reminding her of his low, parting words during her last visit. “I know who you are, Miss Montgomery. I am trying very hard to keep this situation from becoming embarrassing.” He glanced behind her, at the handcuffs. “Publicly embarrassing, at any rate,” he murmured over her angry exhalation. “You are making that very difficult.”
“Oh, well I’m very sorry,” she snapped.
“I don’t think you are, Miss Montgomery.” He reached toward her throat. “But I believe that might change.”
She pulled back. “I . . . what are you doing?” She started to step away and around the table, but his fingers—calloused and firm—settled along the side of her neck, his thumb resting on the pulse-point above her collarbone. She stopped involuntarily, trying to control her startled breathing.
“I thought we’d have that necklace back, first,” the store detective murmured. His fingers slid around to the back of her neck, nudging her golden hair to the side and unfastening the clasp easily in a practiced movement. He withdrew it from around her neck and dangled it in front of her, letting her see the price tag still attached to the clasp itself.
“How -” She cut herself off.
He turned toward the table and her purse. “It’s fairly simple, actually.” He looked at her askance. “I’ll have to empty your handbag myself, this time. I’m sure you’ll understand.” He turned back to the table and set his words into action. Over the clatter, he continued. “Especially in this case, as we’ve alreadyÖ met.”
The corners of Dani’s mouth turned down. “So you saw me come into the store today and justÖ watched everything.”
“Precisely.” He sounded so self-satisfied Dani could have kicked him; the fact that he was picking over her personal belongings (and separating a pair of earrings, a bracelet, and a second necklace that she hadn’t paid for from the rest of her things) didn’t help. That done, he scooped the rest of Dani’s things back into her purse. Still silent, he walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the top drawer and, to Dani’s astonishment, pulled out the orange scarf from her first visit and deposited it on top of the pile, then leaned on the table and looked first at her, then the pile of nearly-stolen items, then back.
“Why?” he asked, his voice crisp and his eyes hard.
She shook her head, scowling. “What?”
“With the money you’ve got, you could have bought and paid for a small country in this store alone over the last year; I’ve checked.” He crossed his lanky arms across his chest. “Why waste your time stealing cheap display counter trash like a -”
“You bastard,” Dani’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard that her chest hurt. “You smarmy, smug bastard.” She took a step toward him. “You act like a prince in your pathetic little—well it’s not even an office, is it? It’s a . . . broom closet with . . . with . . . cable television for peeping toms.”
His eyes narrowed. “Really?”
“Yes, really, you little prick.” She turned to present her handcuffed hands to him. “Now since this is “unofficial” again, so you can play god, why don’t you get your damned keys and let me go?”
After a moment, she felt him stand up; heard the jangle of his keys as he pulled them from his pocket, even over her loud breathing. She wasn’t expecting the sound of the keys hitting the table, however, or the grip of his too-strong hands on her shoulders.
“I’m afraid we’re not quite done yet, Miss.” His voice, angry, rumbled in her ear. “We’ll have to check that blouse again.”
“What -” she began to turn around, but his hands held her. “I’m not . . .” Her eyes fell to the floor as she forced the words out. “It’s a wrap-dress. I can’t . . . it’s all one piece.”
“Then we’ll have to unwrap it.”
“You -”
“Don’t. Turn. Around.” The solid, implacable wall of contained emotion in his voice stopped her cold. She felt his hands moving around her waist, then tugging none-too-gently at the belt tie for her dress, pulling it loose. Two more tugs and the belt brushed the floor, her dress hung open and she, handcuffed, had no means to cover herself.
The hard tak of his shoes against the tile floor sounded like a gong as he moved to stand in front of her. She didn’t look up—couldn’t, or didn’t, she wasn’t sure—just stared at the floor between his feet until his hands moved into view, taking hold of the folds of her dress and lifting them up and away from her body, like wings.
Seconds passed.
“H-happy?” She swallowed against the dryness in her throat and tried not look at him when he didn’t respond.
Finally, he spoke, “I think you might be a bit trickier than I gave you credit for, Miss.” His voice was low. He let go of the dress and moved behind her again. “We’ll have to check a bit further.”
“Wh-” She gasped despite herself as his hands dropped to her waist, pushing her dress aside, roughened fingertips brushing over her bare skin. “What do you-”
“Very easy to tuck something under your waistband.” His fingers hooked the top of her panties and traced the inner seam from one side to the other, slowly, his blunt fingernail scraping lightly over her skin. “Isn’t it?”
“Stop that.” She jerked against his hands. “I’ll scream.”
“And I’ll release the security footage to the local news,” he replied. “Do you want that?”
Dani made no answer. There was no point, and she wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to stop. Methodically, he frisked her, taking his time. His hands alternately burned or chilled her; she couldn’t tell if his touch was abnormally hot, or her skin was. His hands slid under the curve of her breasts, then up; cupping, squeezing, stroking her through the lace of her bra. Her back arched before she knew it, pressed her ass and her cuffed hands back against him as he stepped forward. Her fingers traced the hard ridge of his cock through the thin fabric of his trousers, then squeezed once before he stepped back.
“Right,” he said, after several seconds. “Nothing there, then.” He rearranged her dress from behind, pulling it back over her shoulders, where it had slipped. “Nothing stolen, at any rate.” She heard him pick up his keys. “I think you’d best be going.”
Dani blinked, not believing his words despite the feeling of the handcuffs slipping away. The situation had switched directions so many times, she didn’t know what to expect. She spun around to look up at him and his gaze met hers, then lowered several inches. “You should adjust your dress, Miss.”
Dani glanced down and forgot what she was going to say. She turned away and, once her dress was rewrapped and tied, turned back to find the guard holding the door for her.
Again.
Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. She closed it, clenched her jaw, grabbed her purse and shopping bag, and strode out of the room.
“It will be serious, you know.” His voice pulled her to a stop just as his hands had done. She turned her head, glaring, and found his hard blue eyes on her. “Do this again, Miss Montgomery, and it will be very serious.”
Dani’s only reply was a string of invective as she stomped for the store’s exit.
•
At the gallery opening the next night, as she wore a new black strapless cocktail dress and posed for the paparazzi, Dani could still feel her blood boil. It didn’t matter that he had caught her in illegal activities—the only one who ever had, in fact, though she’d been stealing all her life, pilfered goods haphazardly thrown in her handbag with the platinum card she’d had since she was old enough to shop alone. No, what mattered was that he—unlike anyone else she’d ever met—didn’t seem to care who she was. Didn’t fawn over her, and defer to her name and her family money, like every other person she’d ever had cause to come in contact with during her lifetime.
She sipped another glass of champagne and smiled at her escort, who was telling some boring story about the match he’d won the day before to a fawning crowd of admirers.
That man, that security guard had the nerve to lay his hands on her! To run his fingers over her bare skin, to search her, like some kind of common criminal! As she fumed, Dani’s own fingers caressed her collarbone, playing with the gold necklace around her neck that was, truth be told, not unlike the one she’d tried to steal the day before. It didn’t matter that she already had it, or something so similar as to be undistinguishable; what mattered—what had always mattered—was taking it. Getting something for free, not because of who she was, but because she was able to take it. Dani was sure her shrink would have something to say about that, if she ever told him.
The champagne bubbles tickled her throat as she knocked back another glass, and took a full one from a passing waiter’s tray. As the crowd around her escort thinned, Dani slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Derek,” she smiled up at him, pressing her body lightly against him, “Do you want to go?”
There was something about that store detective, something about the way he made her feel—Dani wanted to put him from her mind, but he wouldn’t leave her alone. The brief feel she’d had of him as her cuffed hands pressed against him had ignited all manner of sensual thoughts in her head; lit a fuse between her legs that burned for release. And with one of the city’s most eligible bachelors at her side for the night, at least she could do something about that.
In the limo back to her spacious apartment, she laid her fingers on Derek’s thigh, and promised to do more, soon. His tie was undone and his shirt untucked the moment they stepped in her front door. She pushed him back against the door as soon as he’d shut it, her lips pressed hungrily to his, her hands in his hair as he unzipped her dress. She shimmied out of it, her memory flashing for a split second to the dresses she’d tried on and discarded in the changing room of the store yesterday.
While he watched.
He’d said he’d been watching her from the moment she’d entered the store. That he’d watched everything, and she knew—imagined she knew, or wished—that he’d seen her strip. Seen her in and out of the two-dozen or more dresses she’d tried on before deciding on her final choices. Maybe seeing her on his tiny little TV screen had emboldened him to demand the live show.
Dani pushed Derek’s jacket off his broad shoulders and leapt into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he climbed the stairs of the duplex to her bedroom. He laid her gently on her king size bed; she grabbed at him, pulled him down on top of her, slid the rest of his clothes off—tore at them, almost—and pressed her palm against the heat of his cock, which twitched in her grasp.
Rolling him over onto his back, his dick standing at attention—like a Master Sergeant about to dress down his troops, she thought—she pulled back only long enough to tug off her own panties, then straddled his waist, wrapped her hand around him, and guided him into her hot pussy.
He moaned as she rode him, her hips moving rhythmically, her teeth tugging at her lower lip. He slipped his hand between their bodies, knowing what she liked, and toyed with her button until she tightened around him, and his own cock jerked spasmodically in return. Afterwards, she lay on top of him, her ear against his chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat, and tensed her muscles around him a few times, playing with him, making him close his eyes in pleasure and murmur his adoration.
She didn’t want his love.
Seeing him out a while later, after he’d knelt between her legs and tongued her to orgasm again, he handed her the black dress she’d worn earlier and discarded in the entranceway.
“Sorry, Dani. I think I may have ripped the zipper.”
She smiled as she took it and kissed him goodnight. “No worries. I was going to go shopping tomorrow anyway.”
Two days.
He scowled at the wall, not even seeing the monitors playing above him. It had been two days since Danielle Montgomery had stormed out of his broom closet office; two days during which he’d alternated between daydreams about the feel of her skin and imagining his boss and the head of Staffing knocking on his door with her angry face hovering behind them.
But nothing. He’d stepped over a line; truth, he’d long-jumped over a line that he’d never so much as thought about crossing before, until she sat across from him at the table, crossed her arms, stretched her top tight against her chest and -
His scowl deepened. The woman had simply gone. No uproar. No righteous wrath.
Nothing.
The whole thing—he—hadn’t even rated an angry note. Just a -
His intercom buzzed. “Security?”
He pushed himself upright, tapping the “Spkr” button on his phone. “Security. Problem?”
“Maybe. Take a look at Accessories, please?”
He leaned back and checked the cameras for the department in question; stared.
“Hello?”
He shook himself and cleared his throat. “I’ll take care of it.” He tapped the phone off without waiting for a reply, then stood up, watching the monitor.
Watching her.
•
Dani didn’t plan it, exactly. Didn’t think about it. Just found herself back in the store, back amongst the accessories. She picked up a large shoulder bag, the leather supple and soft, and flung it on one arm, with an embroidered wristlet dangling from the same arm. For her other wrist, she ravaged the rack of bangles, the metals clinking together musically. When she couldn’t fit any more bracelets on that arm, she plucked ten or more pairs of earrings, nestled on black velvet cards, from a spinning rack, and tossed them into the leather shoulder bag. Dani was in front of the scarves again when he found her and grabbed at her arm as she reached for a navy and white polka dot one.
“Miss Montgomery,” he hissed, “what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m shopping, of course. What else would I be doing?” She raised her voice, and two nearby saleswomen, chattering curiously, fell silent.
“No, you’re not.” There was steel in his voice.
“Are you sure? Did you see something on your little TV screen?” She was pushing him, she knew it, and knew she ought to stop, but she wanted—needed—to see what he would do. Dani pulled her arm out of his grasp, and loosely wrapped the polka-dotted scarf twice around her throat, its tasseled ends teasing the bare skin of her breastbone above her couture tube top.
He swallowed, and she watched a muscle in his jaw move, but he remained silent.
Her fingers caressed an orange silk scarf, and her eyes flickered up to his as she pulled it, gently, slowly, from between two others. “There’s something about this color . . .” She tucked it in her purse, and turned her back on the security guard.
“Don’t.”
She looked back over her shoulder as she walked towards the front entrance. “Make me.”
He closed the distance in an instant, his fingers tight around her upper arm. Whispered roughly, “I told you,” and escorted her back to his office, the door to the sales floor slamming behind them.
Pushing her into his office before him, he locked the door and leaned against it. Dani crossed to on the other side of the room, the table between them, and stared back at him. Her pulse raced, pounded between her legs. She cocked a hip, and dropped her bags on the table.
“Fine. Go through them. Here!” She pulled the bracelets off her wrist and flung them at the table, the metal hoops skittering off the table and clattering on the floor. “You caught me. Now what?”
He pushed off from the wall and began walking—slowly, oh so slowly—towards her. “I don’t think-”
She snorted, but he ignored her, continuing, “That anyone has ever stopped you from doing anything. Ever.” He stood in front of her. “Tell me, Miss Montgomery,” he tugged on the scarf around her neck, brushing one end back over her shoulder, baring her skin. “Have you ever felt the consequences of your actions?”
Dani couldn’t look away from his face, even as he unwound the scarf from her neck and held it loosely in his hand. She shook her head silently.
“That’s about to change. Right now.”
He leaned back, and Dani thought of the phone on his desk, and breathed, “Don’t. Please.”
“I believe I warned you things would be serious if you were caught again.” He towered over her, never intending to call anyone, and reached for her wrist, wrapping the scarf around it. “I know I did.” He brought her hands together, and bound them close. “Do you remember?”
Her voice quavered, “Yes.”
“But you came back.” He turned her around so the edge of the table pressed against her hips, running a hand down her back, bending her over the almost-stolen goods. “Tell me why.” The soft leather bag pillowed her as his hands traced the curve of her ass, smoothed the line of her miniskirt, and drew it up to her waist, revealing her pale buttocks. He hooked a finger around her thong, and rubbed his knuckle lightly between her cheeks. “Why?” He asked again.
Her eyes sagged at the teasing graze; she shifted her hips, pressing back against his hand, a small wordless sound escaping her lips.
His hand withdrew; all contact with him gone, which elicited another sound.
“Tell me.”
“I-” She swallowed, forced herself to concentrate; to find the right words. “I can’t help myself. I’m bad.”
She heard him open the filing cabinet. “Are you?”
She nodded, not even sure if he was watching. “Very bad.”
“Mmm.” She heard him step closer to her; felt the trail of silk over her bare bottom. “You’ve been bad lots of times, haven’t you?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes.”
“You came back here.” He dragged the scarf up her back.
“Yes.” She shivered, goose bumps rising on her arms.
“Because,” He lowered the orange scarf in front of her face and she held her breath. “I caught you.” He tied the scarf over her eyes.
Her voice was small, fighting against her breathing; already ragged and he hadn’t really even touched her. “Yes.”
His hands were on her again, tracing her cleft, teasing at the fabric of her thong; pulling it tight against her sex, hard enough to make her gasp, whimper, then dragging it down around her knees, leaving her even more exposed. His fingers slid along her, spread her silk-soft lips, and dipped into her. She knew how rough his calloused hands could be, knew how wet she must be from how easily his fingers slid into her, took her. She gasped at the shock as he explored—plunged into and stretched her. Her legs shook. Behind the blindfold, her eyes squeezed shut as her mouth dropped open, panting.
Then his fingers were gone. She moaned; pressed her ass—wanton, wanting—back toward him, or where she imagined he must be.
“Please.” Her voice was raw. “Please, god, I-” She begged, but wasn’t ready when he responded. One fingertip, slick with her own juices, tunneled along her pussy lips, finding and circle-stroking her clit in a demanding, knowing rhythm. Another finger sank to the last knuckle inside her, while his thumb stroked higher, against the tightness of her anus.
He tormented her until she stopped listening to what she was saying; until she stopped using actual words in favor of grunts and keening cries. Blindfolded, her other senses sharpened: the feel of him on her and in her, her own scent filling the small room, the sound of her gasps, and the sharp coppery taste in her mouth as she clamped her lower lip between her teeth. His hands took her, over and over; she felt her fluids coating her cleft—felt the wet spreading down her thighs.
The sound of the zipper on his trousers brought her back from the haze she’d been lost in. Her hands twitched with the memory of his cock against her fingers during her last visit and somehow, incredibly, a deeper heat blossomed in her sex.
“I hope,” his cock slid down along her already well-used pussy; the thick, veined shaft sawing slowly across her clit, making her moan, “that you’re learning your lesson, Miss.” He drew back, and Dani felt the hot pressure of his cockhead against her opening. She pressed back as well as she could, but he adjusted to keep from sliding in further. She gasped in frustration, trying to squeeze him—to force him into her—but he held her hips still.
“Did you,” he shifted against her; made her moan, “learn your lesson?”
“Fuck . . . me . . .” she panted.
His lean fingers tightened on her hips; gripped her and moved her just exactly so.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he growled, and slammed into her.
•
Later (much later), he stood in front of the bank of security monitors, watching her leave the store while he straightened and tightened his tie. The camera near the entrance caught her expression—smug and smirking—and the bright color of the fiery orange silk scarf tied at her neck.
He’d told her she could keep it.
She said she’d return it to him anyway.
Tomorrow.
• • •
is a writing team from both New York and Denver who love swing dancing, serious geekery, and shopping. Their stories have previously been published in the Black Lace anthologies "Sex and Music" and "Love on the Dark Side."
