of the accordion doors. She palmed the green card and slapped it in front of his face. The instant the terminal had connected to the Temple, it had turned a healthier shade of green.
The cop pursed his lips and shook his head, clearly disappointed he couldn’t harass her. She smiled apologetically, which only made his eyes narrow. He mouthed, “I’ll be watching you.”
Edie waited for him to move off, but he didn’t. The cop took up a position at the crosswalk directly opposite Edie, like he was performing some public safety duty. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, ostensibly watching the crowd for trouble, but he kept his attention on her. Great, Edie thought, so much for slipping off without finishing the transaction.
The cop’s scrutiny felt like needles in Edie’s back as she scrolled through the potential client list. The usual suspects flicked across the screen. She hardly saw them. What was she going to do? She need time to think, but the cop started pacing back and forth like a lion waiting to pounce on a kill.
Without even looking, Edie pressed the accept key on the worn out pad. She had to get this creep cop off her back. She’d deal with reneging on the contract later. The machine peeped out a tinny beep, and Edie felt a slight buzz at the receiver buried under her right temple as the client’s dossier was downloaded into her personal, private LINK.
Edie’s green card flushed into a deep green. Her shoulders relaxed as she swung open the doors. From the smile on her face and the corresponding grimace on his, she sensed the cop knew he was beaten.
*
Edie hopped the light rail for home. The train was mostly empty, except for a couple of women in business suits at the rear of the car talking to each other in the excited gestures of ASL. Edie always found sign language captivating to watch, so she tried not to stare. Most people didn’t like too much attention from an ishtartu; it made them nervous, like someone could see into their deepest, darkest fantasies. To distract herself, Edie glanced through the dossier stored in her LINK.
Now that she was away from the cop, Edie planned to hit the reject option—a prerogative all ishtartu had—without even really reading the offer. But, the instant the photo appeared in her mind’s eye, she paused.
The woman was beautiful. She had dark mocha-colored skin and dreadlocks that hung past her shoulders. Large almond-shaped eyes stared mischievously at the camera, and a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know-what-I’m-thinking-about grin played on full, sensual lips. Too-large earrings glittered at her earlobes. She wore a burnt orange turtleneck, which was the only disappointment because it hid whatever curves might lie beneath.
Edie found herself imagining full breasts…or perky, taut breasts…or…. She stopped herself. Her mental finger hovered over the reject button. Not matter how gorgeous the client, she knew it wouldn’t be right. It would just be paid sex.
Her mental gaze lingered on those playful, teasing lips. Would that be such a bad thing? Maybe she could take this job as one last farewell.
*
Jamila, the client in question, lived in Saint Paul. Though it was the capital of Minnesota, Saint Paul liked to think of itself as a quaint, small town. Thus, after stopping at home for a quick shower and her overnight bag, Edie found herself standing on a corner, outside, in the freezing rain, waiting for a trolley car. It was her third transfer.
At least she didn’t have to take a damned bus, which was good because she was packing. Edie could feel the center strap of the harness wide and firm between her legs. She ran the flat of her palm over the pronounced bulge riding on her mons. It was going to be a long trolley ride. Ah well, every moment would build the anticipation.
Though the LINK automatically informed a supplicant that their offer to the Temple of Ishtar (tax deductible!) had been accepted, Edie liked to call ahead and get a feel for
The cop pursed his lips and shook his head, clearly disappointed he couldn’t harass her. She smiled apologetically, which only made his eyes narrow. He mouthed, “I’ll be watching you.”
Edie waited for him to move off, but he didn’t. The cop took up a position at the crosswalk directly opposite Edie, like he was performing some public safety duty. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, ostensibly watching the crowd for trouble, but he kept his attention on her. Great, Edie thought, so much for slipping off without finishing the transaction.
The cop’s scrutiny felt like needles in Edie’s back as she scrolled through the potential client list. The usual suspects flicked across the screen. She hardly saw them. What was she going to do? She need time to think, but the cop started pacing back and forth like a lion waiting to pounce on a kill.
Without even looking, Edie pressed the accept key on the worn out pad. She had to get this creep cop off her back. She’d deal with reneging on the contract later. The machine peeped out a tinny beep, and Edie felt a slight buzz at the receiver buried under her right temple as the client’s dossier was downloaded into her personal, private LINK.
Edie’s green card flushed into a deep green. Her shoulders relaxed as she swung open the doors. From the smile on her face and the corresponding grimace on his, she sensed the cop knew he was beaten.
*
Edie hopped the light rail for home. The train was mostly empty, except for a couple of women in business suits at the rear of the car talking to each other in the excited gestures of ASL. Edie always found sign language captivating to watch, so she tried not to stare. Most people didn’t like too much attention from an ishtartu; it made them nervous, like someone could see into their deepest, darkest fantasies. To distract herself, Edie glanced through the dossier stored in her LINK.
Now that she was away from the cop, Edie planned to hit the reject option—a prerogative all ishtartu had—without even really reading the offer. But, the instant the photo appeared in her mind’s eye, she paused.
The woman was beautiful. She had dark mocha-colored skin and dreadlocks that hung past her shoulders. Large almond-shaped eyes stared mischievously at the camera, and a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know-what-I’m-thinking-about grin played on full, sensual lips. Too-large earrings glittered at her earlobes. She wore a burnt orange turtleneck, which was the only disappointment because it hid whatever curves might lie beneath.
Edie found herself imagining full breasts…or perky, taut breasts…or…. She stopped herself. Her mental finger hovered over the reject button. Not matter how gorgeous the client, she knew it wouldn’t be right. It would just be paid sex.
Her mental gaze lingered on those playful, teasing lips. Would that be such a bad thing? Maybe she could take this job as one last farewell.
*
Jamila, the client in question, lived in Saint Paul. Though it was the capital of Minnesota, Saint Paul liked to think of itself as a quaint, small town. Thus, after stopping at home for a quick shower and her overnight bag, Edie found herself standing on a corner, outside, in the freezing rain, waiting for a trolley car. It was her third transfer.
At least she didn’t have to take a damned bus, which was good because she was packing. Edie could feel the center strap of the harness wide and firm between her legs. She ran the flat of her palm over the pronounced bulge riding on her mons. It was going to be a long trolley ride. Ah well, every moment would build the anticipation.
Though the LINK automatically informed a supplicant that their offer to the Temple of Ishtar (tax deductible!) had been accepted, Edie liked to call ahead and get a feel for
Similar Books
