Dirty Laundry

By Holley Trent

Carine Bennett has become so pragmatic about dating that she’ll settle for anyone who can make her feel something beyond mere sufferance.

She may be bleakly self-deprecating in her half-serious request for her longtime fetish club peer to have her way with her, but Heidi Dowd doesn’t think there’s anything funny about the suggestion. Although Heidi had vowed to never again be intimate with women who made her their “exception,” she’s willing to put Carine through her paces.

Heidi is confident she can approach their arrangement with professional detachment. However, she soon learns that Carine has more than just an adventurous spirit. She has audacity. And when she insists that Heidi elevate their status beyond the bedroom, Heidi’s immediate instinct is to break things off.

Carine insists that she’s not afraid for everyone to know who she loves, but Heidi’s been around the block too many times. She’s not going to get her hopes up again. Not even dominatrices are immune to getting broken hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094453408

Holley Trent

Holley Trent is an award-winning author of contemporary and paranormal romance. She writes stories filled with dark humor, and characters and situations that are just as complicated and unpredictable as real life. Although she earned an English literature degree by studying the classics, the appeal of satisfying and emotionally fulfilling conclusions guided her toward the romance genre.She resides on the Colorado Front Range with her family.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Heidi Dowd flicked a bit of floating cork out of her white wine and tilted her head toward the flashing red light on her ex-brother-in-law’s desk. You’ve got an alert, Clay.

Clay gave the light panel a cursory glance and turned his attention back to the stim wand he was putting batteries into. Mm-hmm. Knew that was coming.

Heidi crossed her legs at the ankles and took a sip. You gonna answer it?

Yeah. I guess.

Though he may have possessed the will to respond to his client’s appeal, he didn’t have the urgency. Taking his time, he inserted the rechargeable batteries and then tightened the end cap. After pressing the power switch, he peered speculatively at the shock device. Hate these things.

Heidi lazily lifted a shoulder and sniffed the wine. Not a huge fan, myself. Floats a few of the boats out there, though. She nodded vaguely toward the office door and the private gathering beyond. A packed house, as always.

Clay opened his boondocks home to like-minded sexual thrill-seekers twice every month. Locals who sought thrills beyond the pleasures of vanilla spent the Friday evenings socializing, learning, and playing. Most of the invitation owners for the Down and Dirty gatherings appeared only a few times of the year when they were between partners or simply in need of a period of extra stimulation. A handful of regulars, though, attended almost every event, some out of sheer habit. Heidi was one. She rarely even took her clothes off anymore. It wasn’t that the membership was getting stale. Heidi’s problem was that the submissives who sought her out behaved the same way in the end without fail. She’d had to turn over a new leaf: she only played if she could be anonymous. She’d been finding that enriching despite everything else.

You let someone use one of these on you? Clay asked.

Years ago, but only so I’d be able to describe the sensation.

Yeah, I was gonna say. Doesn’t seem like something you’d volunteer for.

Light Number Two on Clay’s intercom panel stopped and started flashing again.

Heidi took another sip.

What do you think of the wine? Clay asked.

It’s awful. Limey.

Shit. Scowling, he picked up the bottle and peered at the faded label. Valerie told me to cull some bottles. Gotta transfer all that shit out of the root cellar so she can get the contractors in to fix the foundation.

Are you going to lose the cellar?

He shrugged and set the wand onto the bookcase behind him.

Clay always had a bit of a mad scientist vibe about him—a mad scientist who wore brocade robes instead of lab coats and whose experiments tended to involve edging.

Not that she knew from personal experience. She’d never played with Clay. He definitely wasn’t her type, and she’d once been married to his brother.

In the end, Tim hadn’t been her type, either, but that was for the best. She loved his brain and cherished his friendship, but his masculinity was incompatible with her innate programming. To be the son of dyed-in-the-wool Eastern North Carolinian farmers, he’d been surprisingly mellow about her Timmy, we can’t keep doing this. I think I’m a lesbian, pronouncement many years into their marriage.

They’d gotten a kid out of the pairing and had built a thriving business together. All was well. They’d just needed to be related to each other in a different way.

Tim had finally remarried. His wife, Valerie, didn’t care that the other Mrs. Dowd had a key to their house and sometimes let herself in to borrow their newborn, Naomi. Heidi’s baby shop may have been closed, but she still appreciated the new baby smell. Her and Tim’s son, Kevin, was nineteen, and Kevin rarely smelled like new…anything. The internet informed her that there was little she could do about that beyond encouraging him to have a healthy relationship with showering. Perhaps there were people in some parts of the country who could get away with a gentle, soapless dance beneath the showerhead, but Eastern North Carolina’s humidity was comprised ten percent by other people’s sweat to start with. They had to govern themselves accordingly.

Val’s doing some brainstorming, Clay said. When the house was built, they didn’t give too much thought to flooding, I guess. Every time we get more than a couple inches of rain now, I end up with standing water down there. Gonna fill it in and forget about that one. Might make sense to build something slanted in the other direction, but we’ll see. These fucking antebellum houses weren’t built with ease of renovation in mind.

The light stopped and then started once more.

You probably should get that, Heidi said.

You’d think that by now, they wouldn’t need to hold my hand for every little thing, right?

I thought you liked them helpless and dependent on you. Heidi smiled behind her glass.

Only on the days I’ve collected dues. The rest of the time, I could take ’em or leave ’em. Getting too old for this shit.

Heidi chose not to comment on his age. She and the Dowd brothers had graduated around the same time, and she didn’t particularly need any additional reminders of her mortality. She got enough of those pulling AARP missives out of her mailbox.

Clay grunted and smacked his palm onto the intercom button. Six-nine-one. What’s your emergency?

Joke all you want, Clay, but I’ve been sitting in this anteroom for forty minutes. I’ve used up all my match-three game attempts on my phone. I’ve counted all the hardwood planks on the floor. Now I’ve resorted to watching my leg hair grow. If I’m gonna be all alone tonight, I’d just as soon be that way at home.

Clay cut Heidi a searching look.

Saying nothing despite knowing the exact reason for Clay’s appeal, Heidi crossed her legs in the other direction. Perhaps a small, sadistic part of her wanted to witness Clay unable to talk his way out of at least one thing. He didn’t deserve the long winning streak he had.

Well, Carine, you didn’t have anything specifically scheduled, as far as I can tell. He continued to watch Heidi.

Heidi sipped the wine. She hated for things to go to waste, and the vintner had gone to incredible lengths to get that foul concoction to market.

Well, I know that, Carine said. "But usually, even if I didn’t have something lined up, you could work some magic and get someone…them here. I thought maybe you didn’t know I was here tonight, and that’s why I buzzed."

Oh, I knew. You think those little birdies out there can ever keep a secret? He kept on staring.

Heidi kept on having no words to give him. It was his fault, really, for failing to extract a promise from her. Like most reasonable people, she treated informal agreements as wholly optional constraints on her time.

Sorry, Carine, he said. I’ve got nothing.

Carine sighed. I guess that’s what I get for putting all my eggs in one basket.

Nothing wrong with that if you were having a good time.

Hmm, Heidi intoned softly and studied her nails. She didn’t like her new manicurist. In a rare tactical error on her part, she’d consensually beaten her last one black and blue. She’d been wearing a mask, and so had he, but his hair hadn’t been covered. Xuan had a distinctive white patch at his right temple. Heidi had neglected to plumb her memory deeply enough when the niggle of familiarity first tugged at her. She should have paused, but he’d been so needy.

Should probably just take my chances and switch back. His sister can’t file straight.

Of course I was having a good time, Carine snapped. Do you think I would bother waxing my snatch every month otherwise?

Do you kiss your momma with that mouth?

Shut up. But it was bound to happen, right? I should have had options. Maybe I should diversify. Why don’t you see who’s in the big book who can pinch-hit? I’ve got a couple of hours.

Heidi looked up at Clay. She was reasonably confident her expression wasn’t giving anything away beyond its usual catchall warning, but Clay was a man of his own mind. Whether she fed him cues or not, he would say whatever he wanted.

I think diversification isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, he said.

You realize that you don’t get your renovation funds if the freaks don’t re-up and come back, right? How are you gonna fix your house then?

I’m aware of the financial consequences, Clay said. But I’m a man of honor, and I said what I said. I’m sorry they didn’t come to play tonight. You have a schedule. You’ll see them then, guaranteed. Up to you if you want to go out into the crush and see if someone’s willing to let you sit on his face, though.

Heidi knew that wasn’t what Carine wanted. She had more than a hunch.

Ugh, Carine groaned. No. I’m gonna go home. I’ve got an early morning showing tomorrow, anyway. May as well be on-time for a change.

Welp. Clay tented his fingers and watched Heidi watch him. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.

You know damn well you’re not sorry. You wouldn’t know sorry even if it spat on you and told you to beg. And I’ll be down there in a minute. The intercom light dimmed.

Clay drummed his fingers on the arms of his swivel chair. His expression changed from businesslike to falsely dispassionate. I probably shouldn’t ask what you’ve done to that woman to break her brain the way you have. There’s probably sorcery involved, and I don’t dabble in the woo-woo shit.

Maybe I just give good head, Heidi said.

How? Clay scoffed. I’ve never once seen you walk out of there with your lipstick worse off than when you went in, and I happen to know you don’t use a long-wearing formula ’cause your color doesn’t come in it.

Your imagination is failing you. The thing about having a blindfolded sub is that you can sit there as long as you’d like and reapply whatever you need to before you leave.

Sure thing, Heidi. You’ve given her hours and hours of head over the past year, and that’s what’s made her silly.

Heidi scraped off a chipping triangle of her nail polish. It was a bad color anyway. She shouldn’t have let the manicurist pick, but she sometimes liked to give people chances to disappoint her.

You know the truth, Clay. I prefer to work smart, not hard.

She’d had her mouth on Carine’s tender places a time or two, but Heidi had infinitely more interesting ways to amuse herself in that locked playroom. She enjoyed watching Carine squirm.

Carine barged into the office, still fastening the upper buttons of her shirt. Clay, it’d serve you right if I went up to that place in Fairfax once or twice to weigh my options. They’ve got more bodies in there and more—oh. Hey, Heidi.

Hello. Heidi took a sip of wine and hoped it’d settle her fraying nerves. Usually, she wasn’t so easy to agitate, but the last thing she needed was another Xuan on her hands. She couldn’t afford to complicate things with Carine. They had a routine, the two of them. Of course, Carine didn’t know that Heidi was the other person in their they, but that didn’t matter. On the nights they were scheduled to play, Carine waited outside the smallest bedroom in the anteroom. When Heidi arrived, Clay informed Carine over the intercom to get ready. She’d undress and put on her blindfold. Heidi would make the rounds downstairs, saying hello to folks she hadn’t seen in a while. Then, when no one was paying attention, she headed upstairs and guided Carine into the bedroom. She never spoke, and made sure her touches were careful, so Carine couldn’t tell what sort of person was handling her.

Carine had been begging Clay for months for something new, likely expecting she’d be introduced to an experienced dominant like Tim had been. Clay had asked Heidi if she were game for the challenge, and she’d agreed, hardly finding the inconvenience in the affair. She’d always been attracted to redheads, and when Carine got frustrated in play, she talked shit. That only added to Heidi’s arousal. She’d lost track of the number of times she’d silently come while Carine lay bound to the headboard, speaking queries such as, Are you still here or did you tie me up to offer me as a sacrifice? I’m not a virgin, as you know. The sacrifice won’t be good for anything except to annoy the spirits. Bet that’ll keep you up late at night, huh? Angry haints throwing shit around?

Carine’s skin mottled when she was pissed. Heidi liked to stand at the bedside and trace the pink shapes with her eyes. Only eyes, because she knew that eventually, Carine would figure out she’d been treated to a woman’s touch the whole time. The distance between Point A and Point B was a straight line, and there weren’t many women around who did what Heidi did.

Carine plopped her hands onto her hips in a collegial way, which, given the surroundings, tickled Heidi’s funnybone. See Naomi today?

Heidi took a breath and looked away, putting the glass back to her lips. Carine had missed a button, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Mm-hmm. Tim brought her by Wave Cruisers this morning, and everyone got to meet her from a distance.

Oh, that’s cute. I know Valerie said he’d take the baby into work with him when her maternity leave is up, but they grow so fast at that stage.

Yep. She’ll either be in Tim’s office or mine. Probably mine, most days. Quieter in there since my space is soundproofed. I don’t have to leave my desk much, so everything works out.

You are a saint, Clay said. I’m afraid to even hold her. She’s a tablespoon of skin and a sprinkling of bone, and I don’t remember Kevin ever being that tiny.

Well, you were on designer drugs twenty years ago, so I reckon that would taint your memory.

Clay rolled his eyes. We all come out in our own ways, huh? You had Timmy running interference for you, and I got the people I thought were my friends shouting scriptures at me.

Reflexively, Heidi ground her teeth. Clay had been dealt a shitty hand of cards. He hid his disquietude well most of the time, but he had moments of outward melancholy. It’d taken him decades not to give a shit what people thought, but all over again, the hornet’s nest was kicked over and buzzing. He’d had a fling with Valerie’s sister that she’d left on a cliffhanger. Those people who’d given him a hard time about sleeping with men had gone out of their way to find his number to call and text him. See, you got that shit out of your system, huh? I hope you’ve figured out what’s important now.

He still liked men. In fact, he preferred men most of the time. Leah somehow had managed to push a few hard-to-reach buttons of his. Clay hadn’t seen her for months and still hadn’t recovered from her ghosting. He barely left his office on Friday play nights and didn’t even ask Valerie if he’d heard from her anymore, even if he had good reason to suspect that she had.

Clay emitted a disgruntled growl and stood. Take some of these bottles of wine home with you, Carine. Do eenie-meenie-miney-moe. I don’t care. Maybe you’ll get lucky and grab a good one. Heidi says they’ve all sucked so far.

Heidi clucked her tongue. Just the white ones. The reds are fine.

Well, that’s what I get for having a sugar daddy that only took half the sommelier course. God, I was such a ho back in the day.

Carine bent over the crate, finally noticing her mis-buttoned shirt and fixing it. Well, everyone out there in the front misses Bimbo Clay. You should at least get back out there and heckle them for cash. Some of them would consider that foreplay.

He grunted and handed her one of the better bottles of red. There’s an upcharge for heckling, and it comes with helpful feedback like ‘The clit’s above that,’ and ‘What are you doing? You can’t put that there’.

Just ensure you charge ’em the proper sales tax and keep everything aboveboard. Carine pressed three bottles against her chest and wriggled her car keys out of her purse. If y’all don’t hear from me in the few days, assume the wine did me in.

Maybe don’t drink them all at once, Heidi suggested.

Aw. Someone does care about me. I was starting to wonder if anyone did. Bye, Heidi.

Bye, hon.

Carine padded out, calling her usual aspersion to Clay as she departed.

When the door shut, Heidi resumed her study of her nails before Clay could resume his study of her.

How long are you gonna keep dragging this thing out? he asked.

I don’t know what you mean. Heidi was being honest. She could undoubtedly guess what point Clay was trying to make but had learned from experience that sometimes he phrased his questions with intentional vagueness. Often, he gleaned information above and beyond what he’d hoped. For her to answer, he would have to sharpen the point of his query a bit more.

How long are you gonna keep messing with Carine?

Have you forgotten that you were the person who arranged the appointments in the first place?

I haven’t forgotten. At the time, I assumed it’d end up being a one-off thing. She didn’t know what she wanted, and you like a little more structure. Plus, that mouth on her’s enough to make anyone knock their head into a wall.

If you made that assumption, why’d you keep calling me to come back?

"Why’d you keep coming back?"

You’re trying to catch me in an a-ha, Clay, and you know I’m not the type to fall for it.

He snorted and settled back into his seat. I mean, it’s all right if you like her a little. I won’t mock you too much. She has her own sort of allure, I’m sure.

Heidi wasn’t going to justify the statement with a response. He was probing, and she had nothing to share with him.

Are you fucking anyone else? he asked.

"Why do you assume I’m fucking her?"

Are you not?

No.

Bullshit.

Heidi let a grin stretch her lips. If you mean has my body penetrated or otherwise collided with any part of hers? No. She lifted a hand and spread her fingers. I’m a dainty lady, and I think she’d be able to tell. Weighted gloves and toys have been doing all the touching. Makes everything nice and anonymous.

Makes everything nice and boring. Clay leaned his forearms onto the desk’s edge and huffed. "A few weeks, yeah, I could see that. You’re that kind of dominatrix, but a year, Heidi? At what point do you tell yourself it’s time to move on?"

That’s a good question. But soon, I imagine. After all, she’s thirty-four. She’s going to get bored and want something meaningful sooner or later, especially now that her best friend has a newborn and isn’t so available for spur-of-the-moment shenanigans. She’s going to want someone to go home to every night and… Heidi shrugged lazily. You and I both know that won’t be me.

Clay rolled his lips inward introspectively and meditated on the tip of Heidi’s nose for a minute. Well, let me know if you want a palate cleanser or something.

A quickie with some bi-curious twit who’ll giddily text me the day after and let me know how hard she let her boyfriend fuck her after she was with me? She broadened her smile. No, but thank you.

Shit, don’t tell me I sent you one of those.

She gave him a dismissive wave as she stood. Oh, I found plenty on my own. Hang out at the right sorts of bars, and you can’t swing a purse without hitting one. Of course, they’re just there because the bartenders pour strong drinks and the prices are right, hmm?

I guess that’s what they always say. I hope you’re not paying for them.

No. They pay for my drinks and then crowd me at the bathroom sink when I’m trying to wash my hands. They tell me how much they like my lipstick and ask how I’d gotten so confident to go to a place like that all by myself.

Heidi helped herself to a less dusty bottle of wine and grabbed her jacket from the chair back.

You know, you could just find yourself a nice cat lady to settle down with. She’d be a little erratic, and probably, you’ll get fur in your eyes a lot, but at least she won’t ditch you for the first available wealthy dick.

Your problem is assuming that I want nice. I want someone who’ll tell me I’m a Satan-spawned bitch when I smack her ass. And someone who likes cupcakes and can pretend she doesn’t know I get cosmetic Botox.

Cupcakes? Clay asked in a deadpan tone.

Mm. That’s my new thing. I always buy cupcakes because they look less pathetic on my counter than a whole cake I’m eating alone.

Of all places for you to pick to be a lesbian, why’d you pick this one? The talent pool isn’t remarkable, and you know I know that better than anyone.

I didn’t pick it. It picked me. She opened the door. Besides, I’m rooted too deeply here to leave. I’ve already scandalized the entire county, and I’d hate to start over somewhere else.

Clay huffed and rocked back in his chair. Yeah, I could see where that’d be a problem for you.

CHAPTER TWO

That was Heidi Dowd standing in front of the two-for-nine adult T-shirts at Janet’s Crafts. Carine would have recognized that snatched figure even if she had one eye closed and a fistful of dirt tossed into the other.

She did a hasty backtrack with her cart, cringing at the squeak of the front-left wheel that seemed intent on going whichever way the other three weren’t. You slumming, Heidi? What are you doing way out here?

Janet’s wasn’t what the well-heeled connoisseur would call a Can’t-miss shopping experience. There were newer, bigger, cleaner arts and crafts stores on the Inner Banks that didn’t boast a persistent old feta aroma in their ductworks. Still, one thing Janet’s did well was buying too much of items most people didn’t think they wanted and then selling them for cheap.

Like the cart full of fabric pom-poms Carine was pushing.

She’d recently learned that her job description as a planned community’s on-site real estate agent had been edited to include party planning. If it weren’t for the fact that the Valerie-designed houses at Shora were basically selling themselves, Carine might have told her boss at Lipton Properties to take the job and shove it where the sun couldn’t kiss. She hated shifting goalposts almost as much as she hated manufactured vibes. And that was what Lipton wanted her to do—make good vibes for the visiting investors. There were fifty acres of adjoining property at stake, and Lipton could see a dollar sign on every grass blade growing on it.

Am I slumming? Heidi raised her pale eyebrows and lowered her reading glasses. I should ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? The only people who shop at Janet’s this time of day are the old ladies who ran out of acrylic yarn the previous night while watching their stories. She rolled her Wedgewood blue eyes toward the ceiling and muttered, And slightly younger old ladies who’ve been designated the company fun committee.

Oh no. What happened? Carine got her cart out of the way of the end cap and settled in for a story. One of her favorite things was listening to Heidi talk. Not everyone could make an Eastern North Carolina twang sound sultry. Carine needed to take lessons.

Heidi blew some air upward and chased a fall of hair out of her face. At some point in the past three of four months, the staff at Dowd Wave Cruisers collectively lost the ability to read calendars. Not a single one of us noticed Fisher Fest was coming up. My intern walked into my office this morning and asked what the unassigned calendar items about the parade float and demonstration crew were about. I was so annoyed, I think I floated straight up out of my body for a minute.

Carine winced. That probably would have triggered an out-of-body experience for her, too, if she’d forgotten such a major perennial task. The company does Fisher Fest every year. How could you all possibly forget it?

I got distracted by micromanaging Valerie’s pregnancy. That’s my excuse. Tim never remembers because he never shows up anymore. He says Fisher Fest is for the rookies who have better knees and don’t care about melanoma yet. Ran the numbers this morning to see how many of our more charming builders we’re gonna have to cut overtime checks to get caught up. Tim said, ‘Screw the budget, Heidi,’ so here I am, scrambling to get T-shirts done up for them and figuring out how to decorate the interior of a new yacht for the tours.

Heidi sounded absolutely revolted by it all.

Knowing how many people had crawled through Clay’s place begging to be the object of Heidi’s revulsion for an evening, Carine swallowed a snicker. And…puce is what you’re going to go with?

You know what? Heidi said dourly, holding up one of the shirts. It stands out. If I’m paying a bunch of guys thirty bucks an hour to wink and smile at people who have more money than sense, they’re going to wear something easy to spot. Besides… She dumped the entire box into her cart. That’s the only color there’s any extra-extra-larges left in. And those guys would look good in anything, anyway. Especially Jabari and Clint. Dark skin, crisp white shorts, and murder sneakers. They’ll hypnotize the rich widows.

"Murder