Page 1 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

1 - MIDWAY

Lacey

"Dr. Lacey Bonds, savior of tiny hearts and professional good girl," Janice called out, loud enough that the barista looked over and a woman at the nearest table glanced up from her laptop. "Get over here before I start telling everyone about the dirty fantasies I've been listening to you not have for twelve years."

I crossed the room with my head down, slid into the chair across from her. "Doctor Janice Patel-Campbell, you're terrible. And keep your voice down. Some of us have reputations to protect." Tall, lean and dark-skinned, Janice looked like someone who had never in her life felt guilty about anything.

"You love it." She pushed the latte she’d already bought toward me, oat milk, extra shot, perfect.

"So," she said. "Sex Saturday tomorrow. How did negotiations go? Did the germaphobe finally agree to put his mouth where it counts?"

I groaned and wrapped both hands around the glass. "I didn't ask yet. I already know what he'll say."

She gave me the look.

"Weekly," I said pre-emptively. "Before you ask. Still weekly. Still Saturday."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You were absolutely going to say something."

"I was going to say," she said, with great dignity, "that a subscription service you forgot to cancel is still technically a subscription service." She picked up her latte. "I'm just saying."

I laughed despite myself. "Tell me about your week instead," I said. "You went to the Second Circle again, didn't you?"

"I did." She smirked. "You want the highlights or the full report?"

"Highlights," I said. "We're in public."

"Full report it is."

"Janice."

"You keep asking, Lacey. One of these days you're going to have to admit that's not an accident."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Picked up my latte instead.

"Right," she said pleasantly. "So."

She leaned forward, settling her elbows on the table. When Janice told these stories she watched your face, the way she read a psychiatric patient.

"Last time," she said. "There was this gorgeous redhead. Mid-twenties. Her boyfriend brought her, they were at the bar with another couple when I noticed her. She'd clearly been thinking about it for a while."

"What do you mean?"

Janice smiled. "I mean she came in already wound up. Already wanting. You can tell, you know, when someone's been sitting on something for a long time. It comes off them. How she touched her wineglass. I caught her watching me from across the bar twice before she could pretend she hadn't."

Janice looked like she was sharing the secret of life.

"They came over," she said. "Introductions. Conversation. Twenty minutes of that before he whispered into her ear, and she nodded, and he said, 'Whatever you want tonight.' That was the whole sentence." Janice picked up her latte. "Anyway. We ended up in one of the side rooms. He came too, to watch."

She stopped. Took a slow sip. She was torturing me.

"She got on her knees," Janice said, quieter now. "Completely willing. Completely open. Just… waiting for me to tell her what to do next."

Another pause.

"And?" I said too eagerly.