Authors: Heather Hiestand
* * * * *
Melanie put a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress an early
morning yawn as she went to open the front door for Tommy Joe. She had not been
looking forward to the drive to SeaTac airport with her rival. She visualized
Tommy Joe in a cloak, swirling a pointy black mustache through his fingertips.
No, the image didn’t work for him. He was more the collarless suit-wearing,
cat-petting type of bad guy. Would a wild woman sleep with someone like that?
She visualized herself spread out on a sixties-style
conference table from one of those movies as she opened the door.
Tommy Joe, resplendent in dark suit and tie, looked at her
quizzically. “You seem out of breath. Are you all right?”
“No, I mean yes, I’m fine,” Melanie said ruefully, trying to
get rid of the image of Tommy Joe as a Bond movie bad guy.
He offered her a tiny smile. She shivered. It was the second
smile in a few days. He must be warming up to her—or moving in for the kill.
Tommy Joe cleared his throat. “I hear you got a divorce.”
Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “What is that supposed to
mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re on your own now.”
Melanie felt her jaw tighten. “Yeah, I am and I like it.” An
independent woman needed a man like she needed a hole in her nylons. Her
security was in her job and the rest was just about fun. Have mortgage payment,
have independence.
Tommy Joe ignored her statement of defiance as he checked
out her yard, freshly mown by the college student next door but browned by the
August heat. “Remember when you and your husband had a barbecue a couple of
years ago? I met him then.”
“Ex-husband,” Melanie corrected automatically. “I’d
forgotten that party.” It had not been a memorable occasion, but the fight
she’d had with Gerald afterward had certainly been one for the books. He had
been concerned she was investing too much time in her job and with her
coworkers and not enough in him. Gerald had been right. The career had survived
that time and the marriage hadn’t. If only it didn’t look like the career was
now in jeopardy too.
Tommy Joe insisted on carrying her bags to his car for her.
The drive was slow through rush hour traffic. Melanie’s mind was awhirl. In the
next few days, could she find the key to saving her job? And what about Tommy
Joe? Could he be her soul mate? She ought to experiment with trusting him and
try to have a great time getting to know him. He was awfully good looking.
Melanie batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at Tommy Joe. “So
what are your career plans? Are you going to work at your brother’s company
some day?”
“I’m happy where I am.”
“Why? It sounds like we’re going downhill fast.”
Tommy Joe reached over and patted her knee. Melanie scooted
over to the passenger-side door and tugged her navy skirt as far down her
thighs as it would go. Eyelashes were powerful things. She must control them.
“Don’t worry, Melanie. Things will get better. And besides,
even if they don’t, you’ve got plenty of options.”
“I do?” She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Sure. You could get another job, or get married again.”
Oh yeah, what great options
. “I’d rather keep this
job, thank you. I like it.”
“I’ve always had a lot of respect for you. And I’ve always
hoped that, you know, you’d notice me a little more.”
Was that a wistful note in his voice? Maybe she should
have gone soul mate shopping sooner. On the other hand, he was putting off
sexist pig vibes
. “Why, Tommy Joe, you’ve always been so quiet. I had no
idea you felt that way.”
“Now you do.”
Melanie’s mind wandered off in the awkward pause after his
statement. She wondered if she had packed enough sunscreen, considering how
brief most of her clothes were. She had spent much of her free time this summer
bent over her sewing machine making herself a new sexy wardrobe.
“I did a lot of work for my brother when he was a salesman
for a housing development in Plano,” Tommy Joe said out of the blue.
“Why did he leave that business?” Melanie asked, to be
pleasant.
“He didn’t think it was stable enough. He made a lot of
money then decided to quit before the bottom dropped out.”
“I hope the market is safe here. Most of my divorce
settlement is in my house.” Without a job, she would have to sell the house and
live off the proceeds. She had moved straight from her parents’ home to
Gerald’s. Late at night, she sometimes worried about her coping skills. That
was why she had decided to turn over a new leaf and take nothing seriously but
her job.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You have a nice property. Lots of
lawn and four bedrooms, two full baths, right?”
“How did you know that?” His precision made her nervous. And
it suited what Madame Lois had told her about her soul mate.
“You get an eye for it.” His tone was bland.
Maybe he was after her divorce settlement. If so, he was
in for a rude surprise when he learned the extent of it.
They pulled off the freeway and drove to a Fly and Ride on
International Boulevard. “Here we are,” Tommy Joe said. “Are you ready?”
“For anything,” Melanie muttered to herself then smiled
faintly at Tommy Joe. The conference certainly wouldn’t be dull.
* * * * *
Al Plowman yawned and rolled over in bed. The sun coming
through the dormer windows always woke him early on summer mornings. When he
had dated Anita, the bright sun signaled hot morning sex, perfect for his
forty-four-year-old testosterone levels. Now, at six a.m., his body signaled go
but his new girlfriend was leaving for work.
“Where are you going, babe?” He patted her side of the bed
sleepily. “Come back and kiss your Papa Bear.”
“No, silly. I do not want to be late. Today is big day.”
Al sat up, plumping a couple of pillows behind him. “Why is
this a big day, Tida?”
“Because I will quit today.”
“You’re quitting your job?” Why did he always have to find
the ones with the crazy ideas? His ex-wife would have said that it was because
of where he met his women, but he couldn’t hit on the college girls at his
local Starbucks, they were his neighbors’ kids, so he went to singles’ bars.
And dance clubs, some a little on the seedy side.
Tida finished brushing her long dark hair and started to
braid it. He loved her hair and her exotic looks. Those slim but curvy bodies
were the best. He was a man in love with the line of a hip, not breasts. She
offered no more than a taste in that department, but a loud, satisfying ride in
every sense nevertheless.
“Why are you going to quit?” he asked again, rubbing his
face. She had a habit of ignoring him.
“I need to make more money. For my sister’s school.”
That was a relief at least. He thought she was going to
announce plans to move in with him. He didn’t need her household services. He
had a cleaning lady and always ate out.
“Where are you going to work?”
“I thought I take job at that club you like, the man one.”
“You’re going to be a waitress? Surely a nurse’s aide makes
more than that.”
“No, I talk to a girl who works there when we went last
week. Waitresses make good money. But dancers, they make great money.”
“No, Tida!” He clenched the white sheet in his fists.
“That’s unacceptable!”
Tida finished her braid and tossed it over her shoulder. He
loved the way she tossed her mane. So sexy, so arrogant. He loved to tame her
in bed.
“Why, am I not good enough for you then? I think not. You
date dancers before.”
“And I was a laughingstock at the office! I don’t want to go
through that again.”
Tida turned to him, her eyes shrewd. “Then maybe we get
married.”
The palms of his skin went clammy. “No. I won’t marry you.”
She stood up. “Fine. I quit hospital job and go be dancer.”
“Stop, let’s think about this.” Al pushed back the covers in
disgust, his morning erection long wilted. He grabbed his robe then sat down on
the vanity stool and reached for Tida’s hand. She let him take it but stood
stiffly.
“How about this. You keep your job.”
“That is no solution. I need money for my sister’s school.”
“Yes, Tida, I understand that. But listen to this. My
company is planning to buy out LeatherWorks.”
“The company with the Whipmaster ads?”
“Yes. How do you know that?”
Tida giggled. “The Whipmaster is cute.”
Al raised his eyes heavenward. “They also have ads with
female models. And I happen to know they’re holding auditions in Las Vegas this
week.”
“Oh?” Comprehension dawned in Tida’s eyes.
“Modeling would be a lot classier than dancing, right? No
one could object to that. And you have the body for it.”
Tida smiled. “I think I will go to Las Vegas today.”
“But what about your job?”
“You do not own me if you do not marry me. But you have good
idea. I go to Las Vegas today.”
“But what if you don’t get the job?”
She smiled at him. “Oh Al, I get the job. You call the
company president. You refuse to buy the company if I do not get the job.”
“I can’t do that,” he protested. “It’s not my deal.”
“You still want girlfriend? You want hot lover in your bed?”
Al realized it was useless to protest unless he wanted to
start prowling the clubs for another woman. He nodded, tense but determined.
“I’ve met a VP named Jack O’Brien. He can help us.”
Tida nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Can you lend me money
for a ticket?”
“For Christ’s sake, Tida. I’m not made of money.”
Tida ran a long, red-tipped finger down his chest, pulling
apart his robe. “You know I please you, Daddy Bear?”
“Papa Bear,” he corrected.
She took his moan for acquiescence and indeed it was.
Chapter Three
After an hour on the plane with Tommy Joe’s white-knuckled
silence Melanie could be quiet no more. She thought of a great way to distract
him from his obvious fear of flying. “There’s another conference going on at
our hotel. An adult conference.”
“What do you mean?” Tommy Joe opened and shut his mouth like
a fish.
The air pressure must be getting to him and in a most
unattractive way too. Distraction was a good plan. “I mean a few thousand
members of the sex industry will be sharing our hotel with us.”
Tommy Joe didn’t return her sly grin. Great, he had no sense
of humor. Well, he was young. He looked about twenty-four, certainly younger
than her twenty-eight years.
“Do you think Al will be impressed if we come back with a
business plan for a line of erotic massage oils? What’s in the market right now
is ridiculously overpriced. I’m sure we could do better. We can do consumer
research in Vegas and it won’t cost him a dime!”
Tommy Joe frowned.
Melanie ignored his skeptical face and stared at the blue
patterned seat ahead of her. Coming up with something like this might save her
job. “Let’s see, we could call it Love Lotions.” She glanced at him.
Tommy Joe was busy clutching the armrest.
“Are you okay?”
Tommy Joe swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his
throat. “I hate flying.”
“I’m not a big fan either. But it gets better.”
“It does?” He turned to her.
“Yeah. Eventually you land.”
Tommy Joe closed his eyes for a second then smiled wryly.
“Good point.”
When they touched the ground in Vegas, Tommy Joe sighed
deeply and relaxed his shoulders. They walked off the plane into pandemonium.
Two seconds in Vegas was all you needed to see how
completely gambling ruled the town. There were banks of slot machines promising
“Super Jackpot” in the center of the terminal and every other free spot. Bright
colors and neon greeted the city’s new initiates and the sounds of coins
hitting the metal coin drops were seductive. Judging from the number of people
sitting on the fake leather chairs in front of the machines, slot machine
makers had done incredibly successful market research into what machine designs
attracted people. Maybe Professional Massage needed some new packaging?
As they pushed through the crowd, a woman ran up to one of
their fellow passengers and gave her a hug. “I won forty dollars while I was
waiting for you!” she said with a huge grin. Geez, Melanie thought. I usually
just bring a book when I’m waiting in airports. She had to stop being so
boring.
After finding the shuttle van with much difficulty due to
the lack of signage, they were transported to the Strip. It surprised her that
they would have to pay for their ride when the hotels were so close you could
see them from the airport. She had thought everything was free or cheap in
Vegas.
It had been August outside, but the instant they reached the
hotel lobby, the air conditioning hit, along with the goose bumps.
“Hold on, Tommy Joe,” Melanie called. He was zooming ahead
of her like an impatient puppy, eager to see the noisy sights of the casino.
She pushed her suitcase against a wall and dug into it until she found the
fitted suit jacket that went with her short skirt.
‘Here, let me.” Tommy Joe said, dropping his heavy suitcase.
He chivalrously helped her shrug into the jacket then stepped back with a smile.
Someone had taught him nice manners, but that didn’t match up with the
devil-man profile.
“Thanks.” The lining warmed her immediately. She picked up
her suitcase and followed Tommy Joe into the maze of the main casino floor.
Her heart sank when she saw how long the line was to check
in. She’d never seen a hotel with velvet-roped lines to walk through just to
sign in for a room. “Why don’t we wait to register? I’m starving!”
“Why don’t I check us in? There’s no need to have us both
stand here.”
“Are you sure?” Melanie asked.
“Go ahead. Meet me back here in half an hour. I should just
be getting through the line then.”
Melanie gave him her biggest smile. “I owe you!” She skirted
another slot machine pit and went behind the show desk. While hunting for the snack
bars and restaurants, she found a bank of elevators. She might as well scout
around the adult trade show a bit and try to come up with product ideas before
she became busy with her own conference.
Oh sure, Melanie. Be honest. You just want to get a look at
what’s going on up there. The epitome of wild and crazy was happening on the
other end of the elevator shaft.
She walked onto the elevator with a black transvestite in
full Marilyn Monroe get-up, two women in outfits consisting of more sequins
than cloth, three people with tongue studs, one with a black leather Elvis ’68
outfit and two Goth types with thigh high black boots and matching purple
leather minidresses.
“It’s the Magellan sisters!” a woman with three eyebrow
piercings and Elvira hair whispered.
“Who are they?” Elvis ’68 asked in a throaty voice.
“You know,” the woman said with wide eyes, “
Once Around
the World Slowly
.”
The sisters stared stonily ahead, apparently not in the mood
for fans.
The air in the cramped elevator filled with musky perfume.
Melanie was relieved when the doors opened and she could breathe again.
As she looked into the sea of people, she had second
thoughts about this adventure. Her stomach rumbled. She was unlikely to find
food here amidst the fuck-me shoe collections, silk-covered handcuffs and
personal pleasure products. But another elevator regurgitated its load and she
was swept into the foyer.
Melanie had never seen such a varied crowd in her life, even
in Seattle’s University District when she went to school there. She made a
mental note to invest in hair spray companies after estimating that the product
stock must have been annihilated within ten miles of the Strip to manage so
many people’s long flowing locks.
She walked through the crowd, mesmerized by the scene and
the varied noise of slot machines and forgot her stomach. The look of the
conventioneers appeared to be hair, piercings and brief yet uncomfortably
binding fashion. She realized she had found a market for her company’s basic
massage product line. If she came up with a fresh marketing plan for the old
offerings, maybe she could increase her chances of keeping her job.
The trade show began inside the ballroom doors. Melanie
squeezed in without anyone checking for her badge since so many people were
crowding into the doors. She wandered by booth after booth of video producers,
talent agencies and lingerie companies.
She stopped at one that featured bustiers, teddies and
panties in fiery red and fingered a satin bra with cutouts where a woman’s
nipples would be. If she bought the lingerie, would a man to appreciate it
appear in her life?
A booth across the aisle caught her eye. Could it be food?
Her erotic thoughts vanished instantly. She walked over, accidentally treading
on a gladiator-sized muscle man’s surprisingly tiny foot. He opened his mouth
to roar at her, but his exclamation of rage was lost in the noise of the crowd.
Everyone here seemed to be talking louder than normal.
The booth indeed held food. She reached eagerly for a
cellophane-wrapped cookie, only to pull her hand away when she realized what
the frosting on the cookie depicted - a naked woman in pink, black and red
frosting. Pink for skin, red for lips and nipples and black for hair of all
kinds.
“They’re anise-flavored.”
Melanie looked up. “What?”
“Anise. The cookie flavoring. It goes with the black
detailing. Have one, they’re really good.” The salesman smiled at her then
ducked his head shyly, graying ponytail bobbing up and down.
Melanie was surprised this kind of scene attracted the bashful
type. “I don’t know, I—”
“Oh.” The man glanced down at the cookie she held. “Not your
speed, huh.” He took the cookie from her unresisting hand and set it on the
plate then grabbed another serving platter to her left.
“Here you go. These are gingerbread. They last for
months—vacuum sealing. I think that’s a real selling point for my product,
don’t you?”
“Certainly,” Melanie agreed, taking the gingerbread
very-much-a-man from him.
“The frosting is a basic but very excellent vanilla,” the
man explained.
“It’s very, ummm, realistic,” Melanie said, “much better
than the last wedding shower cake I saw.” She opened the cellophane without
taking a solid look at the contents. She’d never seen a gingerbread man with an
anatomically correct groin before.
“Thanks. I design my own cookie cutters too.”
“I’m sure they’ll be a huge hit.” Melanie gently took a bite
off one foot, three toes worth. “This is great!”
“The gingerbread is from a family recipe. My grandmother
would decorate our Christmas tree with gingerbread men—not quite so detailed of
course.” He offered her another grin and ponytail wag. “They lasted for months.
I got the idea when I was going through her stuff after she died.”
Melanie bit off the leg up to the knee and took a closer
took at the rest of the cookie. It looked like a cowboy, with boots and hat and
kerchief. “You’re quite an artist. The detail is great.”
“My lover came up with the frosting detail. We have
policemen, firemen, GIs, businessmen, adventurers…”
“Wow. I wish I had a business to sell them in—I’m just
looking around though.”
“Trying to break in?” He gave her a sympathetic smile.
“You’ll do fine—you’ve got a great look. But if I could give you a piece of
advice—I’d sex it up a bit. Like lose the blouse. It’s clear you’ve got a great
body, but in this crowd, it helps to flaunt it.”
Melanie glanced down at her sea foam-green blouse. “Oh I’m
not really here—”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Most girls get started
younger, but you still look great. Coming here was a good idea.” He pointed
toward the back of the ballroom. “I think Red Velvet is casting for a new
series.”
“Thanks,” Melanie said, flattered. She gave the vendor a
wave and headed toward the front of the ballroom. Melanie had focused her
attention on the Exit sign but as she was nearing her goal a booth on the right
caught her eye. Oils.
Rats, was her first thought. Her second was curiosity. She
edged up to the booth, wondering if the proprietor could sense a competitor.
The bottles of oil were made of lovely cobalt blue glass, shaped like Egyptian
perfume bottles. Their sensuality made Melanie itch with a desire to touch
them.
The booth was deserted. Melanie realized the crowd had
diminished considerably due to the hour. The conventioneers would be off at a
comped lunch in one of the casino’s restaurants.
She sighed, knowing she needed to get back to Tommy Joe, who
was probably through the line by now. But a bottle on a table in the back of
the booth caught her eye and drew her closer. This bottle was slender and
amber-colored. She lifted the vial, running a finger along its cork, which was
wrapped with copper wire. It had no price tag. Perhaps it belonged to the
premium line? She tugged at the cork and it came away easily in her hand. The
scent was divine. Lemon and sandalwood. The kind of scent that energized you,
made you want to snuggle into a Jacuzzi with a lover. She smiled. Tommy Joe
just might be getting lucky that night.
“Admiring your own product? Is that how Shari recommends you
bring in the customers?” said a deep male voice behind her.
Melanie twirled around. Her personal idea of Adonis leaned
over the counter in the front of the booth. He was thirtyish, with a tight
build, mischievous dark eyes and blond hair with ash brown streaks.
“Considering the way you were fondling that thing, it would
be worth a penny for your thoughts. Maybe even a buck,” he drawled.
Melanie bit her lip, feeling exposed. Of course, there was
no way she would meet anyone classy at a place like this. Still, a tremor shook
her from the crown of her head to her toes. He was downright yummy. She looked
at the vial in her hands, imagined chasing the fluid down his chest with her
tongue. Oh yeah, it could be done. She forgot all about young Tommy Joe.
“Honey?” His eyes twinkled. “Cat caught your tongue?”
“Do you always talk in clichés?” she asked, hoping that she
sounded saucy.
“Do you always daydream on the job?” he countered.
“I have to go,” she stammered, tearing her gaze from his and
pushing the cork back into the bottle. Maybe that was why she couldn’t think
straight. Sandalwood had a reputation for putting you into a meditative state.
“Why are you still here when everyone is supposed to be at
lunch?”
“I was just looking. I don’t work here. Though apparently I
fit in.” Melanie instinctively tugged down her skirt then reminded herself that
this was her new look.
“A woman with a body like a pinup girl always belongs in a
place like this. In fact, you look a lot like a walking, talking fantasy of
mine.”
“There you go with the clichés again,” Melanie blurted.
Adonis raised his eyebrows. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I fell like I’m listening to an X-rated Mother Goose.”
Melanie patted her hair then realized she had just made a spontaneous
flirtatious gesture. Her new wild life aside, did she really want to play with
a porn person? With his looks, he could be a big star. How would she know? “I’m
meeting someone. I need to go.”
Melanie stepped away from the counter. As she came around
the corner, she tripped on an exposed electrical cord. Throwing out her arm,
she caught her hand onto a firm object. When her vision cleared, she blushed to
see she had her palm slammed up against Adonis’ left nipple, which immediately
hardened under his shirt.