Page 5 of Handcuffed Hussy
He squinted his eyes at me and still didn't move back. I was okay with him invading my space. That cologne I'd smelled earlier was actually that new Calvin Klein one I kept smelling at work. Interesting. He didn't seem the ultra-in-style, up-with-all-the-trends kind of guy. Case in point: he had on dark, plain jeans and a dark grey t-shirt. Granted, it all fit like a second skin on his gorgeous body, but not metro or high fashion in any way.
"You just happened to be at the beach at ten, when it's totally dark? And no one's around? Just for fun?" He was trying to grill me, like a delinquent, arrested and being interrogated in a little room at the police station with the one-way glass.
"That's a lot of questions there, Jack. Want to get out those handcuffs first and we can discuss it?" While I was enjoying the opportunity to flirt with a seriously hot man, I was also starting to be a little uncomfortable with his scrutiny. I didn't need it getting out that I was feeding the homeless, or giving out blankets, or otherwise showing I was a fucking sweetie-pie. I had a reputation, you know?
To my amazement, he cracked a full-on smile, showing off a dimple. A goddamn dimple. Mr. Tough Guy had pillowy kissy lips and a dimple. I didn't know if my ovaries could handle the onslaught.
"You couldn't handle my handcuffs, Bailey." He was whispering now, the implication of his words speaking right to my girlie parts, the ones that desperately wanted to see exactly what he'd do when he got me in the cuffs.
I fought to close my mouth, unwilling to let him see that he'd gotten to me. I'd flirt back if it killed me. "Oh, it's not the handcuffs I'd be handling, Jack."
He drifted a hand up my hip, touching the bare skin of my stomach where my crop top didn't quite cover, causing goose bumps to travel all over my body.
"Let's get you to your car." All business once again, he turned me around and took the keys out of my hand. He hit a button and the lights on my car just a few feet away lit up as the doors unlocked.
"Hey!" I didn't mind the man-handling, but I did mind the key-handling. No one touched my car but me. I snatched the keys back out of his hands, earning me a head shake, like I was the ridiculous one.
At my car, I opened the door before Jack could get there. He placed his hand on the door to hold it open as I plopped myself down into the seat and looked up at him with attitude. The expression I was going for was 'get your fucking hand off my car door and let me go.' I'm pretty sure he got the message but just didn't care.
"Hold up. How do you know my name?" I suddenly needed to know. Did Esa tell him or did he look me up?
"Bailey Smith, like Smith and Wesson. I make it my job to know all potential threats. Stay out of trouble, Bailey."
With that parting shot, he shut my door and stepped back, watching me drive off. I wasn't sure if he meant stay away from the beach at night, or stay away from him. Because in my book, they were both trouble.
When I got home, I put on my pajamas and climbed into bed with my laptop. I went straight to the search bar at the website of the company I worked for. I searched for clearance coats and pulled up the ones I'd marked down that morning. A click of the button and ten of them were added to my cart. A few more clicks and I'd purchased them.
Remember how I'd said I'd explored alllegalroutes to help the homeless? Well, now I was exploring the grey area. The grey where I didn't want Jack putting his nose in and sniffing around.
When clothes came through that had to be marked down, I always kept an eye out for anything that would help people living on the streets. Long johns, sweats, coats, blankets, you catch my drift. When the good stuff came through, I'd mark down around ten units significantly more than I was supposed to. That same day, I'd purchase the ten units for the steep discount, making sure to use a different IP address each time, just in case someone from my company saw a pattern and tried to investigate who the buyer was. A pre-paid Visa was the payment method which didn't lead back to me. I even had the items delivered to a PO box registered to an LLC I'd created as a shell company.
So far, no one was the wiser, my company sold their clearance items quickly, and the homeless had the items they needed to survive. It was a win-win for everyone. No need for Jack to get involved.
I rebooted my computer and logged back into our company website, clicking on the Latest Arrivals. Out of the top twenty new clothing items, about half were from the tiny up-and-coming designers I'd found. Again, this was in that grey area of legal or ethical.
My job was to find the best clothes and accessories for my clients. Many times, the best clothes weren't the designers that were household names. So many new designers just needed a break to get their clothes seen. I only changed the listings and put in a small designer when I truly did believe in them. They deserved a spot on the website so everyone could see how great they were. Again, it was a win-win: my customers got access to fabulous clothes, and the small designers got the attention they deserved.
I shut everything down, feeling slightly guilty for the first time over my tampering. Jack's angry face flashed in my mind.
"Ugh!" I flounced off my bed to put my laptop on my desk. No need to start thinking of the detective and get all second-guessy about my actions. I was helping people.
End of story.
Time to relegate that man's face to my hot dreams, not my conscience.
