Just in Time (10 page)

She cleared her throat, shoved the truck into gear, and started off with a jolt. A little rough on the clutch, but he couldn’t blame her. He was still shaken. Her soft, responsive mouth, her sweet, warm body…at the
dump
.

“So…” he said as she made a right onto Sahara, then moved on over through the late-afternoon traffic into the left lane. “Not my smoothest moment.”

She laughed in surprise, and he grinned at her, and she laughed some more, and then they were both laughing, because they couldn’t help it.

“I am
so
tempted,” she told him, pulling to a stop at a light and raising a hand to swipe at her eyes, “to tell my mom.”

He leaned his head back and groaned. “The worst. That would be the worst. Could we start again? I do a pretty fair line in dark, dangerous grabbing, I’m told, if you give me a bit of rehearsal and some coaching.”

“No,” she said, that smile trying to peep through. “Probably my fault, though,” she added generously, because that was how Faith was. “I mean, with your gambling addiction and all.”

“And losing all my money,” he reminded her. “Don’t forget that. I don’t gamble, actually. I may have put a quarter or two into one of those pokies machines, can’t promise I haven’t, but a sportsman can’t afford to be a gambler.”

“One of those
what
?”

“Pokies. You know.” He made the motion. “Ching-ching-ching?”

“Ah. Slot machines. Boy, you talk funny.”

The light had turned green, and she was headed south on Valley View. “But I kiss all right,” he said, and grinned at her again. “At least that’s what they say.” And then he could have kicked himself. He wasn’t meant to be doing casual. He should have been romantic or something. He’d
felt
romantic, back there. When she’d been melting against him, he’d wanted to lay her down, touch her, kiss her everywhere, and murmur…things. When she’d made that little whimpering noise into his mouth…he’d been
gone
. But he’d said he wouldn’t push it, and he had the feeling that no matter what he said or how he said it, she wasn’t going to be playing.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll bet they do. And no. We’re taking that right off the table.” Which made him sigh again.

“Right. Friends, eh. And not with benefits.”

“You want benefits,” she said, sounding a little more sure of herself again, “go find some other girl. But…this is awkward.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to be all businesslike about this whole thing. The photography, I mean. I thought, people do this all the time, right? The sexy pictures? No big deal. But I wasn’t expecting it to be…you. I thought it’d just be some model, and I’ve worked with a lot of models.”

“But?” he prompted.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not really a model. Who knows?”

“Well, I do. I know. Because I feel the same way. Not sure how anybody does it. Not because it’s so sexy,” he went on hastily. “Because it’s not, is it. It’s just…a bit weird. Especially doing it in front of you.”

“And it’s about to get weirder. Because my next errand? It’s to the Adult Megastore.”

“Which would be…”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “The adult store. Not for me,” she added, as if he couldn’t have guessed that. “For supplies.”

“Don’t tell me,” he said, all the humor gone. “You said nothing too dirty. I’m not posing with some…some kind of toys, or gear. No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not that bad. You won’t even be in the shots. Well, maybe a few of them,” she admitted, “like we said. So maybe it’s a good thing you’re coming after all. I can show you, and then you won’t pitch a fit, and make Calvin pitch one. But it’s embarrassing, all right? Because I’ve never been in one of those stores,” she confessed, and the color was rising in her cheeks again. “I researched online, of course,” she added hastily, like the conscientious student she’d probably been, “but I don’t know what to expect, and going there with you…maybe I need to ask you to wait in the truck.”

“Oh, no. Not possible.” The laughter was bubbling up again from deep in his chest despite his fairly serious disappointment. “I’m sure I shouldn’t say this, but I’m guessing I can find my way around. Consider me your guide.”

Except that they had a guide. An older lady, wearing a tunic over stretch pants, a bright, beaded necklace, glasses, and a smile, guaranteed to take all the sexyfeels straight out of his dream date with Faith.

“Can I help you?” she asked as the two of them walked through the pneumatic doors into the store, which sat in a strip mall next to a swimming-pool supply and a pet-food shop. All in a day’s work for Vegas, Will supposed.

“Ah…” Faith said, looking around her wildly. Ahead of them sat a huge display of condoms, while the racks to the right were filled with DVDs whose covers left nothing to the imagination.

“First time shopping with us?” the saleswoman asked.

“Yes,” Faith said, and there was that blush again, creeping up her chest, into her throat, up her cheeks. “I mean, it’s not for us. Well, it’s for us, but—”

“Aw, darling,” Will said, putting an arm around her and hauling her up to him. “She’s a little nervous,” he told the saleswoman. “It’s my birthday, you see. Bit of a present. The kind I buy.” He felt Faith stiffening beside him, and looked down at her. “Where did you want to start, sweetheart?” he asked her tenderly. “I’m all yours. Or do you want me to take charge?”

She cleared her throat. “I’d like to look at your scarves,” she told the woman. “And various sorts of ties. Something in that general area.”

“Ah,” the clerk said. “The Restraint section. In the back, right down here. Follow me.”

She led the way, her soft-soled shoes making no sound against the tile floor.

“Let go of me,” Faith hissed at Will, and he dropped his arm and grinned at her.

“I’m paid back for that gambling addiction,” he told her. “Not sure we’ve quite got past losing my house and all my money, but you’re definitely working on it.”

“Here we are,” their guide announced, turning around in the back aisle. “You’ve got your ties here,” she said with a gesture. “Handcuffs, lined and unlined. The lined ones are much more comfortable,” she assured Faith. “Of course, it depends what you prefer, but we find that most couples like to start at the low end of the spectrum, at the fantasy level, then move up as their preferences dictate.”

She pulled out a good-sized square box from the bottom shelf. “This is particularly popular, if you don’t have a bed with posts. The Under-Bed Restraint System. It fits between your mattress and box spring, and tucks away when you’re not using it. Nothing for the kids to find.”

“Very…sensible,” Faith managed. Will would have answered, but he’d got a bit distracted by the cover of the box, at the woman spread-eagled on that white bed. He’d never run much that way, but he could definitely feature it. With the right woman. With
this
woman.

“Such a good idea, darling,” he said, taking the box from the clerk. “I know you were after something a bit more extreme, but for your first time…”

She was still blushing, but she had a glint in her eye, and she’d grabbed the box from him, was looking it over critically. She opened one end and pulled out a tangle of black straps, testing the hook-and-loop fastening on one circular restraint. “You said you’d always wanted to wear real handcuffs, though. Now you’re chickening out? How am I going to be a cop using this thing? Pretty tame. And I want you to have a really
good
birthday.”

She closed the box again and handed it back to the clerk. “Actually,” she told the woman in her usual businesslike tones while Will was still grappling for an answer, “I want something more scarf-like, like I said. Or maybe some really soft ropes. Pink, red. Those sorts of colors.”

“I understand.” The woman led the way down the aisle. “Here you are.” She picked up a plastic bag. “Scarves, feather tickler, and blindfold. Very popular starter set. All pink.”

“Fine,” Faith said. “Can you just leave us here? We can manage now.”

“Of course. I’ll be up front, if you need anything else. Take your time, and please feel free to browse.”

Faith put back the plastic bag and didn’t look at Will. He waited until the saleswoman had moved away, and then said, “A cop, eh.”

“Serves you right.” Her hand was going out to touch various bits of tackle, testing, stroking, then moving on. She was still going for severe, but she wasn’t quite managing it. “You are
wretched
.”

“I am, am I? You could have just done this online, you know. Not that I’m not enjoying it heaps,” he hastened to add. “And I’d like to point out, as a comparison shopper, that this is a seriously well-equipped place, and I’m putting my hand up here and now to explore it with you. But if you’re embarrassed, that’s why they invented plain brown packaging and mail order, eh.”

“I need to see the fabric,” she explained, her cheeks still tinged with pink. “I need to feel it. It needs to look silky, and sensual, and not cheap. We’re after some shots that are mostly black and white, just the one splash of color on her wrists. And maybe a blindfold, too. Just in case. But it’s got to look pretty, not nasty or tacky, and I have to see it to make sure.”

“Tasteful,” he remembered, watching her caress a length of wide, heavy red silk ribbon. She pulled it off its hook, ran it between her fingers, held it up and tested its length.

“Like I said.” She sounded distracted. “What do you think?”

“Mmm…” He took the ribbon from her, put a hand on her shoulder, and turned her around. “This the idea? Hands behind the back?”

“Yes.” Her voice came out a little husky, because he was wrapping the ribbon around her wrists and tying it in a bow.

“I’d say,” he said, stepping back and admiring the effect, “that it’s brilliant.”

“On Hope?” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, with her wrists side by side behind her back. Her hands tied with that red ribbon, against the swell of her rounded bum.

“Who?” He wasn’t paying attention. He was busy.

“Gretchen. Hope. Your co-star. How is she going to look in it, in her bra and underwear?”

Who cared? He’d lost the plot, because he had an entirely different scenario in mind.

“Well?” she demanded. “Good? Not good?” She wandered over to the mirror on the wall and turned so she could see herself. “Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “Good on her. Don’t you think?”

“Yeh.” Will cleared his throat, which had gone dry. She was coming back over to him now, and her hair had fallen down from its bun a little more from the exertions of the day—and from his hand in it earlier. A few unruly strands framed her oval face, and a few hairs were stuck to her cheek, next to that mole over her lip. Having her hands tied like that was thrusting her breasts out towards him, and he reached out despite himself and brushed the hair back. His thumb traced the little mole, because he was only human, and what man would have been able to resist that?

“Good,” he said. “And I really, really want to kiss you again. Could you remind me again why we can’t?”

Her eyes had widened, and her lips had parted, and he didn’t have to look down to know that her nipples had hardened under the T-shirt, because he could see it out of the corner of his eye, and if this kept on much longer, he was going to be embarrassing himself.

“Because…” She swallowed hard, and he saw it. “Because you’re leaving. And you don’t stick anyway.”

“Oh, yeh,” he sighed. “That. Honesty’s a bugger, eh.”

She laughed a little, just a breath out, swallowed again, then turned her back to him. “Untie me. Please.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, felt her tremble a bit under his touch, and, with a Herculean effort, pulled the end of the red ribbon, untwisted it from around her wrists, and handed it back to her. “Changed my mind,” he told her. “I’m not exploring this shop with you, because one little ribbon, and you’re killing me. I get you in the vibrator section, and…no.”

“Really?” She looked surprised, and pleased, he could’ve sworn, and then she hurried on. “Well, I just need to grab a couple more things, and we can go. And no, there’s no way I’m going to be looking at vibrators with you. I don’t even know what they look like, to tell you the truth, and I don’t think today’s the day to find out.”

“You’ve never…” He stopped, then tried again. “You’ve never owned a vibrator? Don’t most women?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and said, “I cannot believe I’m having this conversation. I don’t know. It’s not something I generally discuss with my friends.”

“You don’t—” he began, then stopped.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t what? Now you’re the one who can’t finish a sentence. And I can’t figure out what kind of person you think I am.”

“Because I can’t figure it out myself,” he found himself confessing. “You’ve had me on the back foot since the day I met you, and no mistake. I think I’m ahead, and then there I am, rocking back again. Sucker-punched.”

She didn’t answer that, and he never did find out why she’d never owned a vibrator, or even
seen
one. Seriously? Because she was repressed, or because she could get there without help? He was getting an idea which it was, but he wanted to know for sure. No, he wanted to
learn
. For himself.