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When she relaxed against me I said, "Obviously you can't go in wearing a wire." I felt the change in her body posture that meant I won't go in wired and I waited to see if she'd say it aloud. Before I let her out of the compound I'd know she was coming back.
She bided her time and probably bit her lip. I pulled back far enough, still holding her but able to see her face. "I'm going to chip you."
I expected anger. I'd done something similar at the start of our – acquaintance, let's call it, but that was long since gone. This time I'd simply put it on the back of her neck, up along her hairline. No one was going to be kissing her neck. That wasn't what the people involved in the trade wanted.
Her voice was small when she asked, "Will it hurt?"
Did it last time? warred with Do you want it to? Because I wanted to cane her even if it meant she couldn't leave for another week while she healed. Or maybe especially because of that. Maybe her ex-fiancé Mark had been a piece of work and hadn't been even close to the right choice for her, but the fact that he kept waiting for her, however aggressive and controlling that waiting was, when Annie often left with nothing more than a note and sometimes not that, sometimes he had to call and beg for information. Was she on a case? Did anyone know if she was safe? Okay, then, healthy? I thought that made the asshole into a bit of a saint.
37
Annie
Monday morning, relaxed after a day of massage and facial and sauna, which followed a run through the desert, TaeKwon-Do training, weights, a severe spanking over Cole's lap, and sex, I took a backpack and a Target wheeled suitcase, a POS car bought from someone local who needed the money to support some habit or another, and drove into Las Vegas.
I had my phone and I had an i-Pad where Cole had downloaded copies of my textbooks for me so when I ended somewhere they weren't on my phone. Otherwise, I needed the basic necessities of life like shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrush, etc. After all, I'm just getting started again after six months inside.
Cole's techs did the work on my record. Usually PD would do it, making it look like Lily had served time, just enough to explain where she'd been if she ran into anyone after not being undercover for a while.
I trusted his people. He only hired the best.
The apartment was run down and shabby but clean. I'd actually be looking for work as something like a waitress, which I knew nothing about. The cover was that Lily was always with the gangs or whatever. Lily was always being taken care of by some man who included a lot of liberties with that care. No reason to change now.
"Here's your key," the fat woman said. She was beautiful and motherly and straining the fabric of every piece of clothing she was wearing. But she was also concerned about me and honestly, it felt nice. Even if I wasn't really some down on her luck gangbanger from Oregon or Washington, trying a new state and new life, I still was on the verge of something that made me grateful for a little human kindness.
"You're new in town. I can give you some ideas where you can get groceries cheap, and clothes if you need them, and where no one will hurt you." She laughed then, ruefully, and added, "Probably."
The laugh allowed me to ask, "How do you know I don't have a trust fund?" I smiled.
She rolled her eyes. "Because they don't give trust funds to baby dolls stupid enough to spend it somewhere like this."
She'd laughed, but I didn't. She'd been kind to me and the apartments, while threadbare, were clean and in the best shape she could get them. I liked her. I didn't want to laugh at her even if she thought it was laughing with her.
Too many girls are trained growing up to go along with whatever teasing they receive at home. Oh, you're so stupid / funny / silly / dumb / weird, said with "love" and the belief that of course the girl knows she's loved.
Sometimes she does. Sometimes it doesn't matter. She doesn't want to be teased just because to that person, teasing equates with love.
She just wants to be taken seriously.
I spent the rest of Monday outfitting the furnished apartment with the things I absolutely figured I'd need if I didn't have them in another apartment and didn't have a wad of Cole's money in a separate bank account. The fact that I'd just done this when putting together an apartment to live in while I went to UNLV, and the fact that I frequently hadn't had the money to do this sort of thing until I did have it, made the day surreal.
It was also much less interesting than it had been the first time. Plus whatever I bought it was going to be given away or donated somewhere in short order. That was good, so I wanted to get stuff that would benefit people.
It was also kind of silly. Thing was, I knew from experience if I didn't go all out and create a full-fledged persona, then the first thing that happened would be someone would arrive on my doorstep, just dropping by and in reality checking out that I was who I said I was.
One of my mentors back in Seattle had taught me to always go the distance. Even when it bypassed the budget for the operation and you paid out of pocket to do something like furnish the apartment or dress the role you were playing, do it.
Your life wasn't something to skimp on. If you needed to prove who you were by how you dressed and acted, do it.
On Tuesday I got up, texted Cole, was told to do a stress position for twenty minutes and to leave the connection between us open. I thought about saying no.
I thought about the times I had said no and about the times I'd gone back after walking away.
I wondered what would happen when this thing that I was doing was over. If I lived through it, would I want to go back to Cole? Or to school? Both?
Neither?
I didn't know. And so I might as well do what he said. I stripped off my clothes, faced the tablet, knelt on the scratchy carpet and locked my hands behind my head, elbows out. I rested on the balls of my feet, ass on heels, and had just settled into it when I realized I hadn't set the timer.
