[kiasusam]

“You mean have you fucked your way out of trouble?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.” Imogen looked at her partner-in-crime, then back to Mac with imploring eyes.

“Well,” he said, feeling a kind of twisted affection towards his uninvited guests, “it would seem churlish to take any action now that we’ve all become such good friends. Don’t you think, Blondie?”

Imogen squeaked some attempt at a reply and then looked at the carpet, her cheeks reddening.

“Don’t you think, Scarlet?”

“I like to think you’re not a total bastard,” said the girl whose ass he had so soundly fucked. She was shifting uncomfortably, a reminder to him of where his cock had recently been. “And that you know to quit when you’re ahead.”

“I am ahead, aren’t I?” He smiled at the thought. “And Miranda’s little scheme has gone so sadly awry. Say hello to me when you speak to her by the way. Tell her I’ll forgive her since I got such good sport from her hot little minions – but that I won’t fucking forget. Tell her the game’s back on. No – scratch all that and tell her to call me. Then I can let her know in person.” He picked up Miranda’s phone and tossed it to her. “Catch, Scarlet.” She grabbed hold of it, fumbling slightly. “She’s been calling. Now that’s a conversation I’d love to hear – but I’ve had enough drama for one night, so I’ll let you do it in private.” He paused and they looked at him uncertainly. “That’s it – you’re dismissed. Pick up your stuff and get your spanked asses out of here. And shut the door behind you.”

They gathered their belongings and made to leave, Imogen meek and Lysette a sullen kind of pacified. On an impulse he called the blonde back, delving into the pocket of his discarded trousers and retrieving a business card. “Here,” he said, rising and pressing it into her palm. She stared back in puzzlement, then looked away as though abashed by his naked body. “I’ve got a black tie function to attend next week,” he told her, “and you’d grace my arm nicely. I’ll book a hotel room for after.”

Her stare grew into one of amazement. “But why… why would you think I’d… I’d…”

“I can’t imagine,” he said, letting his expression warm a little. “But I’ll look forward to your call nonetheless.” He enjoyed the confusion on her face as she left the room to catch up with her friend. Then he waited for the front door to open and shut, before reclining into his armchair once more.

In silence Mac contemplated the events that had just unfolded. Sleep beckoned and he wondered if he’d believe all that had transpired when he awoke. If he questioned his sanity, then a good straight-talking chat with Miranda would set that right.

“Got you,” he said, toying with the beer bottle between his fingers. For once I damn well got you, you conniving bitch. And there’s no describing how good it felt.

Question was – what now?



* * * *



They sat in the driver’s and front passenger’s seats, the redhead and the blonde, staring at the panel of the former’s cell phone and hardly daring to look at each other.

“Well, she can hardly blame us,” Lysette said eventually, glancing through the windscreen at the gathering dawn. “She lost her own phone after all. Suppose we’d better get this over with – she won’t want to wait for the story.”

“I know,” Imogen replied, but with uncertainty in her tone.

“What did he have to say to you?” Lysette inquired as the call rang out.

“What? Oh – nothing. Just more of his… his – you know – jokes. I… I never want to see him again.” The remark hung in the air, peculiarly unnecessary. She gripped her purse reflexively, like it contained some form of contraband.

The blonde’s discomfort was cut short by Miranda’s clipped tones on speaker. “Well? What happened?” The voice made both girls jump.

“I think you know what happened,” Lysette said, wary but a touch defiant. “We were caught. Red…” She shifted in her seat as in discomfort and Imogen mimicked the motion involuntarily. “Red-handed.”

“That much I guessed. Before or after you left the envelope?”

“After.”

“Good. Did you mention it?”

“No, we didn’t. Not a word. We kept that part quiet.” She and Imogen exchanged bemused glances.

“Also good. So tell me – what did he do?” The voice on the phone was no-nonsense, cutting right to the chase.

“He didn’t call the police,” Lysette explained briskly. “He’s not going to now. He was thinking about it, but… but he didn’t. We’re off the hook, or I’m pretty sure we are – all of us.”

There was a brief pause, both girls staring at the phone expectantly. “What changed his mind?” their boss inquired.

Lysette glanced at Imogen, the blonde clutching her purse hard and biting a plump lower lip. “He gave us a choice,” the redhead told her boss. “A very clear choice. We took the alternative, didn’t we, Imogen?”

The other girl fought to find her voice. “Y-Yes, we did.”

“And what was the choice?” Miranda asked, her voice losing none of its cool. “What did you do?”

Lysette shot another look at her partner and they both blushed. “We fucked him,” she said, like it was a shared guilt. “Both of us.” Her look darkened and she added, “A lot.”

This time the pause was longer. “Tell me about it,” Miranda said.

“What?” Lysette looked at Imogen, confused.

“Tell me about it,” Miranda repeated, her tone noticeably more husky. “Tell me everything he did to you both. Don’t miss out any details. I want to hear it all.”