Page 4 of Subbing For Santa

What the fuck?

Fear freezes me in place for a moment before my brain kicks in, and I remember I’ve just done what all the stupid girls in the movies do, and I went outside where the fucking predator could be lurking.

Could I get any dumber? Seriously!

Turning, I run like a bat out of hell back to the porch, flying through the door where I slam and lock it. Pressing my back to the cool wood of the door, my chest heaves with panic. I stand like that for a minute before my brain finally kicks in, forcing my feet forward to check that every window and door is locked around the house, with the flashlight on my phone lighting the way.

Once I’m sure I’m safely locked in, I get the candles I use for my clients and light them, placing them throughout the house, filling the area with a gentle, warm glow. By the time I sit my arse back on the couch, my heart is beating wildly, more from anger now than fear.

I glare at the phone this Santa creep left for me, wanting to call it and tell him to fuck right off.

I don’t though, because I don’t want to torment him into breaking in and slitting my throat.

Instead, I pick up my personal phone and call the one person who knows some of my secrets.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Shane. It’s Aggie.”

“Hey, Aggie. It’s a bit hot tonight, hey?”

“Yeah, it sure is.” I nod, even though Shane can’t see as I glance around at the candles flickering around me.

“What’s up? You sound worried.”

Worried is an understatement. I don’t really know where to start or what to say. The rules of the game stated that I wasn’t to speak of the game to anyone.

“Uh… Have you heard anything about the list?”

Shane stays quiet for a few beats before answering. “No. Not the original list.”

“Right. Ok. So, it was destroyed right? All traces of it gone?”

Shane clears his throat. “What’s this about?”

I want to tell him to just answer my fucking question, but I don’t. Shane hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s a good friend, and I’m just freaking out.

“Oh, nothing. It just plays on my mind. That’s all. And with Master Hill being murdered last week, I guess I’m just a little on edge.”

Master Hill, AKA Terence Hill, was the owner of Vixen’s Lodge. He was a Timber Valley solicitor by day, and the Master of his own exclusive anonymous sex club by night. He and his wife operated the sex club from their mansion, Vixen’s Lodge, for over five years in the town of Fox Pines until things turned south with their prized possession. A seventeen-year-old girl with a sex addiction.

She nearly died when they went off the rails and kidnapped her, but she fought for her life, and now, Vixen’s Lodge is a pile of ash. Victoria Hill’s burnt remains were buried last month, and her husband, the master, survived long enough to be slaughtered by what sounds like a professional assassin of sorts, in the Melbourne Burns Clinic while under police guard just last week.

It's only natural that I’m freaking out of late. The original list of anonymous guests has my name on it, which automatically links me to the crimes against the underage girl. Officer Shane Kent—my good friend—used some of his not so legal connections to remove my name, as well as some others off the encrypted list, therefore severing our connection to the crimes. The only problem is I’m extremely paranoid that the original list will somehow resurface, and then I’ll be arrested.

“Shit, yeah,” Shane says quietly through the phone. “I totally get it. I’ve been checking on things in the department. Nothing about the original has come up. I had to outsource to find the list in the first place and have our names wiped off, but that was with a trustworthy ally.”

My shoulders slump both with relief that I can’t be linked to the Vixen’s Lodge scandal, and disappointment that I’m no closer to figuring out who this psycho is that I’ve agreed to play a fucking Dom and sub game with.

“Thanks Shane. Sorry for calling.”

“It’s ok, Aggie. You can call anytime. You know that.” I can hear the warm smile in Shane’s voice. “Are we still on for dinner at O’Connor’s tomorrow night?”

I should cancel, since this Santa creep knows all about that. Yet I don’t. I’m not sure if it’s because I need the brief time I can get with my friends, or if it’s because I’m curious about subbing for Santa.

But hell, we all know that curiosity killed the cat.

“Yep. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I agree and then we say our goodbyes before I end the call, feeling the loneliness of my life seep in and wrap itself around my heart.

---