Trixsters Anonymous

“Hmmm, a girl can get used to this.”

I don’t answer but grab my body wash and proceed to wash us, paying special attention to cover every inch of her. By the time I shut off the water, my cock is screaming at me.

Together, we dress, her humming as she drinks her cold coffee and shoots me loving glances as I wrestle with the idea of throwing her back on the bed and pissing the Captain off by calling in.

I crowd into her space and lean in for a kiss, knowing the promise of tonight will have to do for now.

Chapter 12

Emi

Suspicious Fiancée—a.k.a Bailey Smith—reemerged today, and she is pissed. It’s been one month since her initial inquiry and, apparently, she thought things had calmed down. The fiancé had assured her he wasn’t cheating, he loved her unconditionally, things had gone back to normal, and their wedding plans were now almost complete. She was embarrassed for contacting us, chalking it up to pre-bride jitters.

But three days ago, things started to get weird. First, there was an email from a ‘no-reply’ account with a screen shot of him leaving his office, at his normal time, when he swore he was working late. Second was a series of hang-ups on her cell phone, all through the day and night from an unavailable number. Then, yesterday, she found a small gift box in the mailbox of their shared home. When she pried it open, there was a pair of black satin panties inside with nothing else.

That’s when she contacted us. Before she confronts him again, and feels like a fool, she wants to know for certain if he’s cheating.

Since our job with Rob Trek, Trixsters has been quiet. We’ve had a few inquiries about our services, but nothing that has resulted in our moonlighting. The timing is excellent since I’ve been with Walker every night.

This email from Bailey brings us back into the mix, and I need to figure out a plan.

Maren has been mostly out of touch for a few days, sequestered in a hotel for a high-level internet security seminar. Our communication has been limited to brief calls and a few emails. She comes back tonight, so I send her a quick text to call me before she gets home.

The phone rings in my hand less than two seconds after I hit send.

“That was quick,” I answer.

“I’m free! No more techie, geek speak for three whole days! We are going out to celebrate!” Maren yells so loud I have to yank the phone away from my ear.

“I take it you haven’t gotten my text?”

“I think something just came through. I heard a beep. What’s up?”

I fill her in on Bailey’s message and the latest happenings with her fiancé.

“Oh my God, I know Bailey. She’s engaged to one of Carlton’s college friends. I haven’t seen her in ages, but I’m not surprised at this information. He could be a real dick. I think I introduced you once.”

I rack my brain, trying to recall if I’ve met Bailey. One party last year comes to mind where Maren dragged me in kicking and screaming. A woman pops into my head. “Was she the cute blonde with the killer red dress?”

“Yep, that was her.”

“She was sweet, a little mousy, but sweet.”

“Yes, she is sweet, too sweet for fucking Justin. But who am I to talk? I was a dumbass for a long time.”

“We have to help her.” My heart clenches for this woman, thinking about the parallels between her and Maren. A lifetime of misery.

“I agree. New plan, I’m coming straight to your house and we’ll strategize. Then dinner and drinks with Nina and Rachel.”

“I have plans with Walker.”

“You always have plans with Walker. Tonight, you have plans with us. We’ll Uber because I’m drinking. My brain is filled with too much mumbo-jumbo. I need to decompress. You can go to him afterwards, when you’re lit up. Imagine how much fun drunk sex will be.”

“Sex with Walker is never fun. Mind-blowing, toe-curling, window-shaking, life-altering—yes, but fun is not a word I’d use.”

“Now, you’re being a bragging bitch. Maybe you can help me find my own Walker Scott. I need to get laid, and I have tomorrow off.”

“I’m not sure our little city could support two Walker Scotts.”