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I don’t feel like it, Clay. I want to go home. You know damned well I wasn’t in the mood when I got here.
You don’t have to be in the mood. Just trust me. All right? Do the thing. I assure you they’re vetted.
Your app sucks, by the way.
And? So do I on occasion.
Carine resisted the temptation to fling the tablet into the multiverse. She stomped to the drawers where there used to be basic BDSM supplies.
They were still there. She snatched a pack of hot pink foam earplugs from within and ripped open the hygienic wrapper.
Next time, find yourself a different test subject.
Nah. You’re the only one who’ll give it to me straight.
Wait. That didn’t come out right.
She closed the chat bubble before Clay could rustle up a corny bisexual joke or two and tapped theMore Timebutton.
Her muscle memory for inserting the earplugs hadn’t deserted her, so she got them in quickly, then returned to the drawer for something to tie around her eyes. Clay liked to offer a variety of options ranging from pedestrian two-dollar cotton bandanas to the finest silk scarves. Carine selected a silk one because he owed her, and she was absolutely leaving with it.
She resettled on the edge of the bed before putting the tablet down, then concentrated on fitting the scarf snugly around her eyes. She doubted anyone would fault her for leaving a gap to peek, but unfortunately, she wasn’t proficient enough in being purposefully dishonorable.
Need to learn to be,she mused impatiently.What has being decent gotten me?
With her world pitch black and devoid of sound, Carine’s body stiffened proactively, and her arms folded protectively over her chest.
She didn’t generally mind having the rhythmically urgent sounds of her breaths echoing in her head, but generally, there wasn’t so much mystery involved in a visit to Clay’s. Plenty had thrilled her in the past, but nothing had outright worried her.
She only knew that her partner had neared her because of the gentle vibrations thrumming from the floorboards up the legs of the bed and into the mattress frame.
Her posture went even more rigid, and her breath ceased its steady cycle.
I’m trusting you, Clay. I’m trusting that this person isn’t—
Something soft and silken skimmed beneath her chin, and what seemed like a plastic wrapper crinkled against her throat.
An object was being pressed to her, and the person thrusting it upon her was undoing Carine’s clamped arms and wrapping them about the thing.
Carine patted the thing from its bluntly tapered bottom up its flexible wrapper around a length of increasing girth. Finally, she laid a hand at the top to confirm by feeling what her nose was telling her.
There were roses in her arms, and judging by the bulk of the parcel’s top and the weight of the bundle, there were a lot of them.
Confused and flustered, she instinctively reached for her blindfold, but a hand was in the way. It nudged hers back to the bouquet’s waist.
That same soft hand pressed against Carine’s right cheek. It thumbed along the slope, and the other hand did the same on the second side.
She could feel the tickle of breath on her lower face a scant second before their forehead touched hers.
They seemed to be breathing her in.
That reminded Carine to breathe again. She’d stopped when she’d caught the rose aroma and had been holding it in her head, perhaps afraid to let go of it.
Her inhalation was tentative, and that annoyed her immediately because had she been breathing deeply the entire time, she might have recognized sooner the scent that chased that of the roses. She might have remembered that there was really only one person who could fuck with her head in such a way.
“Heidi.” She heard her voice inside her head, and perhaps due to the plugging, the tone seemed huskier than it should have and more wistful than Heidi deserved.
She’d left Carine dangling. The Heidi she thought she’d known before always put periods on things.
