Dirty Read online

  “And then the prince went away, Dan, and left the fox bereft.” I looked down at my hands, holding his.

  “Would you be sad if I left you?” He asked me, and at first I wasn’t sure how I would reply.

  At last the answer came on breath as tremulous as a breeze wafting curtains from an open window.

  “Yes. I would.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Then I won’t.”

  He pulled me close to him, my head on his shoulder, and for a long time that was all I needed or wanted to do.

  Chapter 14

  I’d stopped into the break room to fill up my mug with coffee before the afternoon meeting when sex again waylaid me.

  To be fair, it wasn’t sex, exactly, but Marcy with waggling eyebrows and a whispered, “I’ve got it!”She waved me over to the table toward the back, where she’d either been doing loads of cocaine or eating powdered doughnuts again. I looked at the napkin with its telltale evidence and looked for a bakery box, but she was good. All that remained were a few incriminating crumbs.

  “What do you have, aside from a sugar high you didn’t share?”

  “No,” she said with a meaningful pause to shoot a glance at the floor. “It.”

  I looked at the bag at her feet. Nondescript brown paper, no logo on the side. The sort of thing porn magazines were delivered in.

  Then I knew what it was. The Blackjack. You might think that after so many embarrassing escapades in my life, my blush function would be broken, but sadly, it continues to advertise my least discomfort. Heat spread from my chest, up my throat and all the way to my hairline. Marcy laughed.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she told me. “I made sure to bring fresh batteries for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m sure it could’ve waited until I got home.”

  “Maybe. But I wanted to make sure you could use it right away.” Her blue eyes glinted. “It’s so cute, the way you blush.”

  “It’s not cute.” I set down my handful of files on the table and took the package from her. It was heavier than I expected, the cardboard tube unmarked, the same as the bag in which she’d brought it. A thought struck me. “You didn’t…try it out. Did you?”

  Her disgusted expression forced a giggle from me. “No, ew, Elle! Ewww!”

  “Just checking.”

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  I shook my head. “Not here.”

  “Oh, c’mon.”

  Marcy should be classified a force of nature. There is no resisting her when she has her mind set on something. All she had to do was give me a look, and my fingers obediently began working the tape covering the box’s lid.

  “What do you use, the Jedi mind trick?” I grumbled, slitting the tape and prying open the cardboard flap.

  Marcy hooted. “Mmm…Obi-Wan Can-bone-me.”

  “God, you’re such a dirty pervert. You’ll make Alec Guinness roll over in his grave.” I pulled open the flap.

  Marcy pursed her lips. “I’ll roll Ewan McGregor over, thanks. C’mon, pull it out!”

  I looked around the room, but it was still empty. I didn’t hear anyone outside in the hall, either. I looked back at the box and then opened it up all the way.

  The Blackjack lay cuddled in its bed of protective bubble wrap. It didn’t look that sexy. In fact, if I hadn’t already known what it was, I might have thought it was a large black candle or something, instead of a phallic-shaped sex toy.

  “Take it out!” Marcy bounced with glee, peering over my shoulder “Let’s see!”

  “I thought you already saw it,” I said, but obliged her by unfolding the bubble wrap.

  “Oooh.” Marcy cooed with pleasure. “It’s so classy, Elle. Just like you.”

  “Oh, good Lord, Marcy.” I wanted to clap a hand to my forehead. “Vibrators are not classy!”

  “That one is.”

  It did have a certain aesthetic charm with its sleek design and deep ebony color. The small, ridged handle, made of molded black plastic to seamlessly match the rest of the device, fit comfortably in my palm. It had weight to it. Solid. For a moment my brain imagined it would make as good a weapon as it would a tool for lovemaking.

  “Turn it on!”

  “Marcy, no!” I pulled the Blackjack protectively against my chest to keep it out of reach of her grasping hands. “Jeez!”

  Laughing, she poked my arm. “Oh, c’mon, Elle! Make sure it works! Here. I put the batteries in the bag.”

  She opened the package of batteries with one long fingernail and handed them to me, one by one. They slid into the Blackjack like bullets into a gun, and after a moment the toy rewarded us with a low hum. It buzzed against my palm, tickling.

  Marcy giggled. I did too. We hunched like conspirators over it, Marcy making whispered lewd comments and me shaking my head.

  “Ladies?”

  I clutched the still-working vibrator against my chest, my wrist hastily twisting to turn it off. The voice belonged to Lance Smith, one of the Smiths in Smith, Smith, Smith and Brown. He was the youngest Smith, the third, and a nice guy with a family of three gap-toothed children and a plump wife who sometimes brought him lunch. She liked expensive chocolate truffles from Sweet Heaven. He was also my boss. I definitely did not want him to see my deviant little dildo.

  “Lance,” Marcy said. “Time for the meeting?”

  “Yep. Elle, you’ve got the files on the charity information, right?”

  “Sure, Lance,” I told him cheerfully without turning around.

  “Great. Oh, we’re meeting in the big room today. Dad’s coming. See you there in five.”

  Dad was the senior Smith. Walter. He’d retired two years before but liked to keep active with the firm’s charitable contributions. He, too, was a nice man. I didn’t want him to see my sex toy, either.

  “We’d better get over there.” Marcy’s eyes danced with amusement. “We don’t want to keep Walt waiting.”

  That wouldn’t have been a good idea. And since my office was on the other side of the building, away from the meeting room, that meant I’d have to find a place to stash the Blackjack until afterward. I looked around, but putting it in the cupboard was too risky. My luck, someone would go looking for more creamer and find my Blackjack instead.

  “Put it back in the box and just carry it with you,” Marcy suggested as I looked around the room. “Nobody will know what it is.”

  It was the best suggestion, and I enfolded it back into the bubble wrap only to discover it no longer fit back into the box correctly. Voices in the hall alerted me to our coworkers heading down to the meeting room. Time didn’t allow for vibrator wrestling.

  “Just leave off the wrapping. Here.” Marcy took the wrap and tossed it in the garbage while I slid the plastic, already warm from my hand, back into its cardboard sheathe. “All set.”

  I tucked in the flap and picked up my folders. “All set.”

  Marcy and I didn’t often have much work-related interaction, since she dealt with personal accounts and I handled corporations. One project we were able to work together on was the company’s annual participation in Harrisburg’s Children Are Our Future event. Featuring displays, free food, demonstrations and giveaways by area businesses, the event raised money for children’s charities in the Dauphin County area. I’d been on the planning committee for four years. This year they were asking participating companies not only to pay for booth space, but to make matching donations from their employees.

  I settled my things at the table and greeted my coworkers with small talk while we waited for everyone to arrive. Lance caught my eye from across the table and quickly looked away. A few minutes later the rest of the committee had arrived and we began our discussions.

  There wasn’t much to plan. We’d reserved the booth space in one of the higher traffic areas of the event, which was going to be set up inside the Strawberry Square shopping center. The indoor mall with its food court and specialty shops had a convoluted layout, and the year before we’d been stuck in