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We do. She and I met at Debasement and hooked up for one night. Went our separate ways. Things got rough for her, and she started turning tricks at the train station. After one especially bad day at the freeport, I was looking for something quick, something dirty, and I decided to pick up a girlfriend for the night. We were both shocked as hell to meet again after three long years.
I say, “I figure it can’t hurt to pin down a few details. You know. The type of things we’d only notice if it had actually happened.”
“If our story is too polished, it’ll sound like a lie,” she says.
“I’m not talking about polish. Just a couple of details for me to say. A couple for you. Specifics.”
“What about the paps out front?”
Fucking paparazzi. But I’ve had a trick up my sleeve for a while, one I’ve been longing to try. “I’ll have one of the security guys take out the Mercedes. He can drive over to the airfield, and they’ll follow like fucking vultures.”
We’ll only be able to play that game once. But the dark windows of the luxury limo should buy us some privacy for tonight.
“Okay,” she says, clearly unsure. “If you think we need to.”
“Good girl,” I say.
And just like that, the trip becomes something else.
We aren’t two criminals, brushing up our alibi. Instead, she’s my good girl. My princess. The woman who can only come when I give her permission.
She puts the panda on the flagstones beside her. She pushes the blanket down to her waist. She shivers in the cold air, just a little, and even in the dark, I can see the shadows of her rock-hard nips.
“If we’re making this realistic,” she says, “what should I wear?”
My throat goes dry, but I answer: “Your black bra, the one with the red flowers. That short little denim skirt. And your black stilettos. The ones with the crystal heels.”
She laughs. “You’re predictable.”
“You have a problem with that?” I actually want to know.
“Not at all.” She gets to the sliding door before she turns back. “Which panties should I wear?”
“None,” I say.
She laughs again. “Predictable.”
She takes one more step before she turns back. “Aren’t you going to change?”
“Into what?”
Her eyes gleam. “Your tux,” she says. “Diamond studs. Plain black braces.”
“Your wish is my command,” I say.
“The hell it is. You’ll be the one issuing commands. Or I might as well stay home tonight.”
I raise my eyebrows at the challenge. “Get dressed,” I say. “Meet me in the garage in fifteen minutes. And bring the handcuffs from my dresser drawer.”
17
ALIX
* * *
Istand on the corner outside the train station, wondering if anyone has ever actually lost a nipple to frostbite. A nipple, or some other sensitive body part equally vulnerable to the cold… I shouldn’t have let Trap tell me what to wear. I should have dressed in an Arctic parka. With leggings and a heavy wool sweater. And long underwear underneath.
The ridiculous thing is, it was my idea for me to stand outside. According to our story, this is where I picked up dates.
