Secrets of a Shoe Addict (25 page)

“I’m going to fuck you hard,” Mick was saying.

Tiffany moaned and tried to calculate how much this call had earned her so far. It seemed like she’d been on the phone forever.

“Oh, baby, I’m going to make you come over and over again,” Mick panted.

“Take your time,” Tiffany said, making her voice coo. “We’ve got all night.
All night long
.”

Which seemed easy until Mick suggested he was going to put the cucumber where normally it would come
out
.

The image was so unexpected that Tiffany’s response was immediate. “Ew!”

“What?”

Oh no, she’d broken the spell. “Ooooh,” she said, trying to include a little of the
ew
sound, so he’d think she’d been into it the whole time. “Do it.” No zucchini bisque for her in the near future.

“Yeah, baby.”

Then, just as she felt she was hitting her stride, Tiffany heard footsteps overhead. Heavy footsteps.

Charlie had woken up.

And he was probably looking for her.

So she ratcheted up the dirty talk, whispering the filthiest, most provocative things she could think of, impatiently waiting through Mick’s labored moans and groans until finally, thank God, he finished.

“Oh man, Crystal, you are fucking incredible,” he said, breathless. “I’ve never heard a woman talk like that. I’m going to request you next time.”

“I can’t wait,” she whispered. The door to the basement opened.

“Tiffany?” Charlie called.

Shit! Shit shit shit!
“Call me back,” she said to Mick quickly. “Soon.”

Then she flipped the phone closed.

What else could she do? It wasn’t like she could just put her hand up to tell Charlie to wait while she finished the guy off.

It was bad policy to end a call quickly; she knew that. But it was probably a whole lot worse to have the caller hear your husband calling for you.

Unless, of course, that was the fantasy.

Tiffany shook off the thought. She couldn’t figure all of this out right now. She just needed to appease Charlie.

“I’m here,” she called, then downed the rest of her wine and put the cap back on the Tide bottle.

Oh God. Oh God, she couldn’t let him find out what she’d been doing.

“What’re you doing down here?” Charlie asked, sounding irritable. “I’m trying to sleep.”

What was she doing? She was enjoying herself with another man, more than she’d ever enjoyed herself with Charlie, and the other man wasn’t even actually there.

So she decided the best defense would be a low-key offense. “What does my being down here have to do with you trying to sleep?” she asked, kicking the dryer door shut to sound like she was doing laundry.

“I didn’t know where you were,” he said, as if that were the same as not having a blanket or, perhaps, oxygen.

“Well, I’m here.”

“I think you should come up.”

“I have more to do here,” she said. “Then I’ll be up. Just go on to bed.”

“What
things
are you doing?”

Would he never let up? “I had some things in the dryer and I wanted to fold them so I wouldn’t have to iron in the morning, that’s all.” No, that wouldn’t take long enough. “And I have to soak some things in bleach.”

Her guilt was immense. It wasn’t like she was having an affair down in the basement of their house, and there was no way he’d suspect she was doing phone sex, but she still felt a tremor of fear that he’d find out and go ballistic.

She turned on the washer, dumped in some bleach, and dropped in a pillowcase that was folded on top of the dryer.

Never in her life had she preferred work of any sort to relaxing in bed. It was probably a bad sign that she preferred it now.

Chapter
      
16
  

S
o who did you get last night?” Loreen asked Abbey. Abbey’s stories were becoming legendary for their unrelenting freakishness.

Loreen and Abbey were standing with Tiffany outside the school on the sidewalk by the bus lane, waiting for the kids to get out. They had about ten minutes before the bell rang.

“Well, there was Carl, who wanted to pretend we were on a tropical island
being watched by hungry cannibals.
And there was also Boo—yes,
Boo
—who wanted me to dunk his head in the toilet.” Abbey raised an eyebrow. “Not what
I’d
call a turn-on.”

Tiffany shook her head. “I just can’t believe it. You get all the freaks.”

“You mean you get normal guys?”

Tiffany nodded. “As normal as a guy can be if he’s willing to pay that much per minute for phone sex, yeah.”

Abbey considered. “Maybe it’s something about the picture I put together for Mimi. Maybe
she’s
a freak magnet, not me.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Tiffany said with a smile.

“I will.” Abbey sighed. “Every time I pull on my Wonder Woman costume.”

“Ix-nay,” Tiffany said suddenly, as Deb Leventer approached. “Change the subject.” She raised her voice. “In retrospect, it really was one of the most memorable trips ever.”

“Hello, ladies,” Deb said, oozing condescension even in those two small words. “What are we gabbing away about so secretively?”

“The trip to Vegas,” Loreen said, sounding casual. “It was a great time, wasn’t it?”

Deb looked doubtful. “Hm. When I last saw some of you there, it looked like you might be heading toward some mighty headaches.” She gave a spiky laugh. “I’m writing to the school band association to suggest that Las Vegas was a terrible choice for the competition. Next year they should choose a more wholesome place.”

“The kids seemed to have a good time,” Tiffany said. She was pretty good. Her face didn’t betray anything of the trouble the adults had gotten into.

“They’d have just as good a time in Salt Lake City,” Deb snapped. “Or, my goodness, Washington, D.C. Think of all the history right around the corner from us.”

“Vegas has a lot of history,” Loreen said, knowing Deb would
never
agree. “Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bugsy—what was his last name? Warren Beatty played him in that movie where he met Annette Bening.”

Deb ignored her. “Excuse me, I think I see Hannah Brooks over there.”

Loreen was glad they’d gotten off so easy. The less time they spent talking to Deb, the less likely it was that she’d figure out something was up with the PTA funds. And, given the fact that Deb was a letter-writer and a complainer, it was best that she never, ever find out what had happened or what Loreen, Tiffany, and Abbey were doing about it.

Later on, Loreen dropped Jacob off at Robert’s work, because the office was moving and Robert had decided it was a good opportunity to “hire” Jacob to help, thereby instilling some good work ethics in him at an early age.

It was also good for her son’s ego to feel like his dad needed him to help with the manly work of moving heavy stuff.

Loreen, on the other hand, went home to do the womanly work of hauling out the trash, cleaning up about fifty gallons of soapy water from where the washer had overflowed (a sock she didn’t even recognize had blocked the laundry tub drain), and heating up a low-fat dinner that tasted more like the waxy cardboard it was wrapped in than the lasagna it was supposed to be.

She had some work to do on a few of her real estate listings, but the market had gone depressingly flat, so she was finished by six thirty and reminded of how tight money was.

She considered the time. Robert was taking Jacob out to dinner after work. They wouldn’t be back until about eight. That gave her an hour and a half to log in to Happy Housewives.

The phone rang almost immediately.

“This is Mimi,” she said, in her best Marilyn Monroe imitation. Which, actually, wasn’t very good, but it was, at least, consistent. “Who are you?”

There was a long pause, then, “Call me Dawg.”

“Dog?”

“Da
w-
g.”

“Dawg,” she tried, then, in a moment of whimsy, “can you howl for me?”

“Not that kind of dog,” he snapped in a voice less deeply masculine than what he’d initially been going for.

“What do you want to do,
Dawg
?” she asked. She’d learned, at least, not to get wound up in stupid details that didn’t matter. “Are you horny?”

“Obviously. That’s why I called.”

She wondered how he’d like it if she just called him Jackass. “What do you want to do about that?” she cooed instead.

“What the hell do you think I want to do?” he asked, apparently content to spend an exorbitant sum of money just to argue. “Turn me on.”

“How about if I slip my red panties off, Dawg?” she asked. “Do you want to see me?”

“You know it.” It was a sad thing that the only thing that made this guy less of a jerk was for her to stop thinking and just turn herself into his sex object.

Then again, that’s what she was getting paid for.

“Now, I’m taking off my red bra,” she said slowly. “Could you unbuckle it for me?”

“Rip it off,” he growled. “I’ll rip it off.”

“Do it!”

Apparently he did. At least, she assumed that’s what that spitty slashing sound was supposed to be.

Then there was another sound. One she wasn’t expecting.

Robert and Jacob coming into the house!

Why
did her family keep showing up when they weren’t supposed to? Admittedly, she should have known about Jacob’s half day, but she was absolutely sure Robert had said they’d be out for at least another hour.

“Go down on me,” Dawg barked “Do it now! Take my dick in your mouth.”

Oh, good Lord, whether they were supposed to be here or not, Jacob and Robert were plodding up the stairs. She heard Robert tell Jacob to go get something from his room; then Robert knocked on the door.

“Take my dick,” her caller repeated.

“You’ve got it,” she said, trying to soften her voice but still sound businesslike so Robert wouldn’t hear and figure out what was happening. “Mmmm.”

Robert knocked again, louder. “Loreen?”

This was a mess. It wasn’t possible for her to get far enough from the door that her caller couldn’t hear, and there was no way she wanted anyone to know her real name.

So, with no alternative, she opened the door to Robert and held up her index finger.
Business
, she reminded herself.
Sound professional.
“That’s one hell of an asset you’ve got.” She cupped her hand over the phone and whispered to Robert, “Business call. I’ll be right down.”

“Suck my meat,” Dawg said.

She turned on the light and said to him, a little too loud, “It’s prime. Prime plus.” God, she could
not
let Robert find out what she was doing. If he did, he might think she was an unfit mother, and she might find herself in a custody battle for Jacob and—

“Yeah,” Dawg groaned. “And don’t be afraid to use your teeth. I can take it.”

“Okay,” she said.

Robert looked at her a little oddly, then nodded and turned to retreat down the hall.

“Next I want you to suck my toes,” Dawg said.

“What?” It was so unexpected, she couldn’t help her startled reaction.

Robert stopped and turned back.

“Oh, sure,” she said into the phone, waving Robert off with a smile, like she’d just seen a spider or something. “There’s definitely interest,” she improvised, knowing Robert could still hear her if he was listening. “Getting lower. And lower.” She watched as Robert rounded the corner and went down the stairs; then she closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, heart pounding. “I just can’t get enough of you,” she said into the phone, but she knew it didn’t sound like she meant it at all.

Fortunately for her, she’d been convincing enough up to that point that Dawg was past caring. Within five minutes, the call was over and Loreen was able to straighten herself up enough to go down and face Jacob and Robert.

“I got
twenty dollars
, Mom!” Jacob held up a crisp twenty-dollar bill. “Dad’s secretary said I was the strongest guy there!”

“I bet you were.” Loreen went over and ruffled his hair with her freshly washed hand. “Sorry about that,” she said to Robert. “One of my clients needs me to hold his hand through all the financial stuff. I’ve explained it over and over, but he just doesn’t seem to get it.”