The Original Sinners: The Red Years

“Be a good girl,” Nora said and left before she changed her mind. “Or else.”

Sheridan stayed on her mind all the way home. Can’t do this forever, can we?

Nora went into her office and turned on the desk lamp. She threw her hat onto the armchair, turned on her computer and opened the working draft of her book.

She thought about Zach, how he’d told her in the beginning that he thought she’d fail. She wondered if a part of him still thought that. Part of her certainly still thought that. But she wouldn’t fail. She’d show Zach who she really was. Nora Sutherlin was a writer, a good writer. And once he finished the book and signed the contract then she could finally tell him she was a Dominatrix—an ex-Dominatrix by then.

She leaned back into her chair and yawned. She reread the scene she’d been working on earlier. Deciding she didn’t like it, she erased it and started over.

15

Zach pulled Nora’s latest chapter off his office printer and picked up his red pen. Skimming the lines, he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He needed to talk to Nora about the last few chapters she’d sent. They were going well, but he was afraid she was starting to lose her way again. She was obviously in love with her characters and wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. But her musings slowed the story down. He had to give it up and face her again. It had been five days since that night. He still couldn’t think of it without hating himself a little more each time he remembered how he’d been unable to stop himself from touching her face…her skin was so soft and warm…and how he wanted to see her hair down and loose…so he pulled out the pens and let it fall…and her voice seemed to get inside him and stoke a fire he thought he’d long ago extinguished.

He raised his head, picked up the phone and dialed. After two rings Wesley answered.

“She’s not here, Zach. Want to leave a message?”

“Does she have her mobile on her? Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in your office, Zach.”

Zach looked up and found Nora standing in his office doorway. She knocked twice on the open door and waited.

“Never mind, Wesley. She’s here.” Zach hung up. “How are you, Nora?”

“We need to talk about the blow job.”

Zach stood up and rushed around his desk. He pulled her inside the office and shut the door behind her.

“The blow job scene in my book.” She raised her voice as Zach sat at his desk again.

“You will be the death of me. You realize that, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m here to discuss my book with my editor. I still have an editor, don’t I?”

“Of course. I’ve been busy this week.”

“Busy ignoring me.”

“I have responded to everything you’ve sent me.”

“Yes, with notes and polite suggestions. I don’t need polite suggestions. Polite doesn’t help me. How do I know what I’m doing right if you aren’t telling me what I’m doing wrong? I need you to be angry again, not polite. I think I liked it better when you hated me.”

“I never hated you.” Zach forced himself to meet her eyes. He took a deep breath and sat up straighter in his chair. “I never hated you or the book. It’s only…about Saturday night—”

Nora opened her mouth and he raised his hand.

“About Saturday night,” he began again. “I need to apologize.”

Nora looked at him in wide-eyed surprise. “Zach—”

“Please, let me finish. I’m terribly sorry about what happened. I had too much to drink, and I was still reeling from Grace’s last email. That’s no excuse, I realize. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you in your condition. It was foolish and reckless and I—”

“Zach, seriously. You have to stop,” Nora said and laughed.

Zach stared at her. She shook her head.

“You know why I’m here? I came to apologize to you,” she said.

“Whatever for?”

“I thought I was here to apologize to you for taking advantage of you in your condition, but apparently I’m the victim here. Novel sensation for me, being the victim. Not sure I like it.”

“Nora, I’m your editor.”

“Yes, my gorgeous editor with his poshy British accent and his ice-colored eyes and tennis player arms with the veins running from the wrist to the elbow. Oh, no, please don’t ever force me to go down on you again, Mr. Easton. It’s a fate worse than death.”

“This isn’t a bloody joke.”

“No, it’s not a joke. It’s a blow job.”

“Will you please stop saying that?”

“Fine. I fellated you, sucked you off, gave you an Oscar Wilde. But call it what you will, Zach, I handcuffed you to my desk and blew you back to England. And for some reason you aren’t thrilled that happened. It’s a bit of a, forgive me, blow to the ego, but I’ll survive. What I want to know is why you’re taking it so personally.”

Zach sat back in his chair and counted the days until he was on a plane to California. If he were on a plane to California right now, a plane to anywhere, he wouldn’t be having the most humiliating conversation of his life.

“I take it personally because that night was the first night I’d been intimate with any woman other than my wife in over ten years. That may seem rather bourgeois to you, but I’m afraid I’m terribly bourgeois when it comes to matters of infidelity—”

“She’s moved on.”

Zach ignored the comment.

“Not to mention taking advantage of a woman I have some modicum of power over.”

“Power? You think you have power over me? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had power over me. You are helping me make my book publishable. You work for me as much as I work for you.”

“I have the power to decide if your book gets published. I alone have the final say.”

Nora stood up and walked around the desk. She sat on the top and crossed her legs. Her knees and thighs were at Zach’s eye level. Zach refused to look at her legs, her sheer stockings and short red skirt and the boots that went up to her knees. He met her eyes and waited.

“If I gagged you right now and put you flat on your back and fucked you seven ways till Sunday right here on this fine mahogany desk…would you sign my contract?” she asked.

“Absolutely not. And that’s not going to happen.” Zach forced back the flood of images her words conjured in his mind.

Nora slid off the desk and onto her knees next to his chair.

“What if I just gave you my best Oscar Wilde again every day for the next three weeks? Would you sign my contract then?”