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“Of course. Have to repay her for snooping around in those calendar notifications. She’s still scraping paint from under her nails from your screen-printing journey.”
“A little acetone ought to get that off,” Carine said.
“I’ll let her know if it’s still there on Monday.”
Carine risked raising her gaze.
Heidi was no longer looking into the distance. Instead, she was staring at Carine the way Carine imagined Heidi must have stared at misbehaving spreadsheet formulas in her office. The assessment seemed to be seeking something that was out of place—something that broke the math.
There were many broken things about Carine, but she didn’t think any of them were so clearly notable on the surface.
“I believe this exchange is improperly balanced,” Heidi said without detaching her stare. “Either I need to change clothes, or you do.”
Once more, Carine assessed her attire. She hadn’t carried spare clothing and probably wouldn’t have had the bandwidth to find anything appropriate, anyway. It’d taken her nearly an hour to select what she’d ended up wearing. She was reasonably sure, though, that she had some sweats in the emergency go bag in her trunk. They were fancy velour sweats, but they’d at least put her on a formality tier near enough to what Heidi was wearing.
“I’ve got some sw—”
“Give me your shirt,” Heidi interrupted, and boldly, she extended a hand toward Carine.
Carine blinked at Heidi’s fingertips, wondering if a punchline was coming. There didn’t seem to be. “My…shirt?”
“Mm. Give it to me, please.” Heidi made a beckoning gesture.
Carine may not have played with Heidi before, but she knew enough dominants to safely assume that Heidi wouldn’t be as patient the next time she asked. After all, they were speaking the same language, and Heidi hadn’t even used that many words. Her instruction had been clear.
Maybe she’ll give me another shirt.
Carine tried to suppress the twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
I hope it isn’t puce.
She set her glass on the floor next to her feet and untucked her shirt. She focused on the bottom buttons first. They were always tighter. They also gave her a good excuse not to keep having to hold eye contact with Heidi. It wasn’t that Carine was bad at it. She stared Heidi dead in the face all the time, but under usual circumstances, Carine wasn’t waiting for the woman to make her come.
Carine leaned across the coffee table with the shirt dangling from her fingertips. “Excuse the smell. That honey-verbena deodorant was three-for-one, and I ended up hating the scent. I’ve been trying to use it up for months.”
“The camisole, as well.” Heidi skipped straight ahead to the beckoning gesture.
“My… What?”
“The camisole.”
Carine looked down at the silk undershirt. She didn’t understand why Heidi would be bothered by it.
“Does that one have a scent you don’t like, too?” Heidi asked flatly.
“Well, the same one as the other shirt.”
“Good. Since we’re both already acquainted with it, no further formalities are necessary, right?”
“Why do you need it?”
“You don’t know this about me, so I’m going to tell you once, so you understand. After that, I’ll expect I shouldn’t have to remind you.” Meticulously, Heidi brought Carine's blouse sleeves together and aligned the sides. She folded the garment into a compact rectangle and set it atop the sofa back. “If I wanted to deal with rebellion, I’d relive my past three years of parenting Kevin. I don’t want to be your parent. I don’t want to explain every move I make and every request I ask of you.”
“Re…bellion? I…” Perplexed, Carine fingered the bottom edge of the camisole and realized where her thoughts had misled her. She’d thought she was going to be changing her clothes.
And she’d misunderstood how Heidi might correct a perceived “imbalance.”
Carine should have known better than that. The calculating dominatrix part of Heidi’s brain was never really turned off. She’d taught Carine that in her truck with one suck of her finger.
