Make Believe Wife Read online

  It’s too far to walk back. I’ll just go in and take my frustration out on someone here.

  When I walk inside, I’m even more freaked out. Over in the corner a woman is reading a kid’s book to a bunch of tots gathered on the carpet. She’s doing the full deal of reading the words slowly and with emphasis then turning the book around to point at the pictures and engage them.

  There’s a girl doing coffee who smiles at me politely and a woman at the counter with a sharp haircut and kinda funky clothes. She’s the only one in here that looks cool.

  I realize that I’m standing in the doorway staring, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t obey rules, not real ones or the imaginary ones imposed by society.

  This gorgeous woman comes out from behind a stack of books. She pauses at the coffee counter and says something to the girls there, who quickly get back to work. She must be the boss.

  As she strides towards me she looks me up and down. I cross my arms and grin. Yeah, I know that battered boots, torn fishnets and a wrecked-up leather jacket aren’t the finest attire, but it’s all I’ve got for now.

  “May I help you?” She says in a smooth voice. I just jump straight in.

  “I heard there was a scene here. You know, a kinky one.”

  Her eyes flash around the room and back to me. Her face is a tight mask of control.

  “In the evenings here we entertain a slightly different crowd. If you would like to come back, then I’m sure you’ll find it more entertaining.” Her eyes go hard and her mouth sets in a line.

  “However, we expect that everyone who comes to the evening activities is well behaved and discreet. Do you understand?”

  “Sure, fine. Whatever.” I don’t like her tone or her expression. I just turn and go, giving her a wave.

  They’re all crazier than Karen working on a new painting. Blow this place and all its boring dames.

  I need action.

  Three

  Helen

  The apartment is dark as I burrow through my drawers, looking for the right costume. I’ve never really felt anxious like this before and I have to admit, I kind of like it.

  My head has been spinning all day. Ever since Lisa dropped the deal on me, I can’t seem to think straight.

  I want this. I really want it. I’ve been thinking for so long how a tasteful section on the arts of rope and other types of BDSM would enrich our magazine. We often get letters from women asking for more information about it, but our shareholders tend to stick to the mainstream.

  I know I can satisfy our customers, sell copies and indulge my own interests. I think for the first time in my life I really feel driven, rather than just carried by the current.

  I want to make it happen. All I have to do is find a girlfriend.

  I sit down on the floor in the dark in front of my open drawers. I wish I was one of those intense, dramatic people that could just have a cry right now, but I’m not. I just look at the tumble of clothes somewhat helplessly.

  If what I want is a partner, I probably shouldn’t go to the same place I always go. I’ve never found anyone there that wanted a relationship with me, and I’m too timid for one-night stands. I don’t know where to start looking for a real partner—or even a stand in one.

  I can’t just launch myself out into the city. I realize I’ve got the same issues as a bird that’s been caged its whole life, but there’s very little I can do about that. The Nook made me feel safe to express myself. I can’t imagine going anywhere else to look for a partner.

  Even though I would consider a fake one, its funny how I want to be sure she understands my hidden desires.

  The shadows deepen and I reach into the drawer and pull out a corset and long skirt. The corset is beautiful, real silk. Dark violet and black lace. The skirt is a flowing satin affair with high splits. I put on some stockings patterned with roses so they can peek out of the skirt on every step.

  I flick the light on in the bathroom and smile at the woman in the mirror. It’s almost as if this person doesn’t even know beige, boring Helen. I sweep dark purple eye shadow across my lids, coloring in dark lines around my eyes and adding deep red lipstick. I let my long hair flow down my back and brush it until it falls like gold glitter.

  I love getting dressed up like this. I love mixing elegant with sexy. This is exactly what my section in the magazine would be like. Classy, gorgeous and kinky.

  As always, I feel a faint clutch of terror in my chest. What if someone sees me? What if I have to explain to someone in my close circle of friends and family what I’m doing? It’s one thing to be a lesbian. It’s quite another to be kinky.

  I try to take a deep breath and the corset holds me in mercilessly. My life is just like this corset. It’s gorgeous and I love wearing it. Even while it squeezes the breath out of me.

  I find my shiny satin shoes with the little bows on them and put them on while I look over my earrings. I decide on some antique silver ones that dangle down in trails of stars. When I stand up and look at myself, I barely recognize the woman in the mirror.

  On the floor at the end of the bed, today’s outfit lies abandoned like a dead fish fallen from the catch bucket. The loose beige skirt and baggy white sweater. Flesh colored tights and plain, flat shoes.

  I don’t have to worry about being recognized by anyone that knows me, if I can’t even recognize myself.

  I take a breath so deep it hurts, and this time it’s not the corset. It’s a great bubble of fear that stabs me in the stomach.

  I want this deal, but I don’t want to put myself out there.

  I return to the comforting thought that maybe I don’t have to. I could pay someone, couldn’t I? Surely there would be girls out there who would be happy to hang on my arm for a price? That just opens up a whole new realm of speculation.

  What kind of price? What kind of girl? Could I stand to spend time with someone who could be bought in such a way?

  I’m right on the verge of cursing Lisa and her damn deal. I want to go back to how it was before—simple.

  Something in me rebels. It’s like a bell clanging in my blood. This morning I was in despair because I wanted a change. Now I’m complaining because I got one.

  Even I’m sick of me. How could anyone else want to be with me?

  I get angry at Lisa, just a bit. It’s unfair for her to put me in this position. If she wants to take the magazine in a new direction, she doesn’t need me. If she truly wants to give me my own section, she doesn’t have to impose impossible conditions on me.

  But I know, she’s not a monster boss. She’s my friend. These conditions aren’t a punishment, there a kick in the butt. An incentive.

  Something about the way she looked at me implies that she knows about my hidden urges. That she is very clear on the sort of section I’ll be producing if I get my own pages. It scares me a bit that she might know what I’ve been trying so desperately to hide, but it might be that she’s reaching out to draw me into the light.

  Maybe, it’s where I belong. Maybe, I could be accepted for all that I am, if I only had the courage to try.

  I shake my head at the striking woman in the mirror. I’m not ready. I just can’t go out to some big scene looking for a woman to marry or to buy… I wouldn’t even know where to start.

  I grab my purse and head out the door. I need to get out and let loose a bit, even if I’m not adventurous enough to do something really different. The Nook has always made me feel safe and accepted. That’s what I need right now, a bit of comfort that I’m perfectly okay the way I am and there are others just like me.

  Plenty of the girls who go there are hiding their kink from family members or close friends. That’s exactly why Rachel started the Nook in the first place and hid it under her bookstore. So that everyone had a safe place to express themselves and do it discreetly.

  Even though I hit the street with my face composed, I still feel like screaming. My hands shake a little as I call the taxi. Feeling this much emotion is
so rare for me that I might scurry back to my comfort zone with a huge tub of ice cream and forget the deal, the magazine and a potential partner.

  But then nothing would change at all. Feeling determination streak through me, I get in the cab with purpose and control.

  I’m doing this. Maybe the fact that I’m getting emotional is a good thing.

  Maybe this is what it means to not be boring.

  Four

  Roxy

  I wandered around for ages looking for some action. I wasn’t just looking for a spot to party, I was hoping to hook up with someone who could give me somewhere to crash.

  The usual spots just ran me into heaps of guys. Like, seriously, what the fuck? Saying ‘yeah, sorry, I’m into girls’ doesn’t even slow them down. I just don’t get it.

  Everyone I struck up a conversation with told me about cool parties or clubs, but some of them were way too upscale—seriously, in my outfit, I’d never get in—and some were way too low, even for me. Others were just jam packed with horny guys letting girls in for free to balance out the sausage fest.

  So, I ended up heading back to the Cozy Nook. A bit plain and boring was better than sliding into a dark nest of predatory man beasts. At least I had been able to tell in my one brief visit, this place was totally girl friendly.

  I wasn’t convinced they were into the kink scene, but there was only one way to find out.

  When I got there, it was already dark, and I wondered what the protocol was. Secret entrance? Password? Kooky knock?

  Luckily the one girl I had seen that looked anything close to cool was at the door when I rocked up. She waved at me, grinning.

  “Hey, I saw you before, didn’t I? Did Rachel invite you back?”

  “Well. I think ‘invite’ might not be the right word.”

  I waited for her reaction. People responded to me in a few ways and firing some saucy sarcasm at them usually sorted friend from foe pretty quick.

  To my relief, she giggles.

  “I’m Cody.” She sticks her hand out confidently.

  “I’m Roxy.” I smile back, thinking she really did seem fun. Maybe this place wouldn’t be a total waste of time, after all.

  “Why don’t you come on down? If Rachel invited you, it should be cool.”

  “Well.” I look around the shadowed store as we slipped inside, Cody shutting the door behind us.

  “As I said. I don’t think I was exactly invited but let’s give it a go.”

  Cody just laughs and leads me down some stairs. I can hear music and see low lights. Nothing like a laser or strobe show though. If they are drinking tea down there, I don’t think I’ll be able to cope.

  I almost collapse with relief when I finally hit the floor. There’s a bar, a really nice one too. There are some nice, flashy lights but its more atmosphere than blinding and I find I kind of like it. There’s a little stage thing with some sound equipment but it doesn’t look like there’s a band.

  But what I do see… Is girls, girls, girls. Not a man in sight. Pretty ladies everywhere and they are dressed hot.

  There are some in fancy, princess type costumes and others in full studs, chains and leather. I stand there wide eyed for a few minutes, just taking it in.

  “You approve, I see.” Cody giggles from beside me.

  “Yeah.” I nod slowly. “It’s not what I was expecting.”

  “Why don’t you head over to the bar? Heather will make you anything you like.”

  “Wasn’t she making coffee before?”

  “She has many skills.” Cody laughs. “And don’t worry, it’s not like she’s working a triple shift or anything. Rachel’s not that kind of monster.”

  “That remains to be seen.” My whisper is lost in the crowd as Cody moves off with a wave. I walk through the club, still just taking in all the costumes and the super sexy artwork on the walls.

  The other women smile at me and some even wink. From the long glances I’m getting, I think they like my outfit. I have to cringe a little, because this isn’t a costume.

  The skirt used to be ankle length. It got a tear in it while I was on my little bus trip, so I just ripped it off at the mid thigh mark. I’ve been wearing these boots for years… Every scuff and stain is real, not manufactured. The fishnets are just luck of the draw, I have a few sets of tights in my bag because my legs get cold and I like to change up the look.

  My jacket is truly mine and it’s the one thing I’ve never let go of. It was my Dads. I remember him, just a bit. He looked after me when Mom died. I don’t let my thoughts stray any further in that direction.

  At least my clothes aren’t making a scene all by themselves. I was hoping to get a bit of work so I could buy something less conspicuous to broaden my options. It just hasn’t happened yet.

  I sit down at the bar and the girl smiles brightly at me.

  “Hey! What can I get you?”

  “You do cocktails?” I’m being ridiculous. I can’t afford a cocktail and no matter how poor I am, I always tip big. I know what it’s like to be a waitress.

  “Only a few.” She gives me a nervous grin. “I’m not a full bartender.”

  “That’s cool. Just give me a sparkling white.”

  She nods and hurries to put it together. Just as she brings it to me a woman gets up on the little stage. I think she might be about to rock the room, but she starts talking instead.

  Calls of ‘yeah, Lucille’ start ringing around the room. I’m even more confused. If she’s not the entertainment, why are they cheering her?

  Maybe its just because she’s wicked hot. She’s wearing a full leather suit that shows her cleavage and deadly boots.

  Then she starts talking about how to be a good dom. I take hard gulps of my wine and keep my lips pressed together so I don’t start arguing with her.

  I mean, there’s a place for gentle Doms, I guess. I just don’t see how that’s really fun. I need to be taken to the edge, man, not cradled like a lost kitten.

  I start to wander around the room, looking at the pictures. I’m starting to get a vibe that I’m being watched, and I don’t consider it to be paranoid. This instinct has gotten me out of trouble plenty of times and I’m not going to doubt it now.

  This thing is going down the drain and I’ve got to leap out of the tub before I go down with it.

  I start shuffling towards the exit, wondering if I can make it out without a scene. Sometimes that’s unavoidable, but it looks like this time, I might actually pull it off.

  As I get nearer to the door, the thought strikes me that I still have nowhere to go. It makes me kind of mad.

  Then someone moves in front of me. It’s too sudden and I can’t get out of the way. I almost stumble as the tall woman turns around in front of me.

  “Oh, hey.” I look up at her. “You’re the chick who was doing the talk onstage.”

  She glares at me. “It’s Lucille. You made me spill my drink.”

  “You jumped in front of me, lady.”

  “That’s not how I see it.”

  “What’s your fucking problem? You’re wearing PVC! It just wipes off!”

  “I got cold ice right down my chest!”

  “You want me to lick it off?”

  I take a step closer, growl rising in my throat. Strong hands grab my shoulders.

  “Whoa, whoa.” I turn to see that sexy Rachel girl pulling me back. “What’s going on here?”

  “She bumped into me—” Lucille starts.,

  “She ran into me—” I protest back.

  “I don’t care!” Rachel says sharply. Her eyes are darting around, watching the people starting to stare. “I warned you, if you came that you had to be on your best behavior. I’m sorry I invited you.”

  “But I just—”

  “No. Get out now. Or security will take you out.”

  “Look, I was only—”

  “Security!” Rachel yells. A short, broad woman shoulders through the crowd and grabs me.

  “Don’t b
e gentle, honey.” I hiss at her. “I’m in need of a good ass whipping.”

  “Yeah, yeah, wise ass.” The security chick has probably seen and heard it all before. My feet barely touch the ground as she drags me out and deposits me on the gutter.

  To my absolute disgust, I feel tears burning behind my eyes. Like I even care if those stuck up bitches want me around or not. Why am I getting so upset over this?

  I look around, sniffing back tears while I hold myself together.

  Because I’ve got nowhere to go. No one gives a damn about me.

  And no one ever will.

  Five

  Helen

  Arriving at the Nook gives me a rush of pleasure. I can’t deny it, it’s true comfort and to me this is just as good as a hug from a special someone.

  I don’t need a special someone. I’m kind of insulted by the insinuation that I should have one. I’m more than enough on my own.

  My thoughts are very defiant and make me feel very sure of myself, but suddenly I feel very alone even though I’m in my favorite place surrounded by familiar people.

  There’s this horrible feeling in my stomach that hasn’t gone away. I’ve carried my calm demeanor with me throughout my life by being completely honest with myself and everyone around me. I try to be completely efficient in everything I do, and honesty is the best way to do that.

  But what I just told myself was a complete lie. Okay, I reject this whole notion of being a ‘half’ looking to make up a ‘whole’ because that’s just insulting.

  It doesn’t change the fact that I really am lonely. I want to share myself with someone. I want to voice the quiet observations that flash across my mind and have them acknowledged. I want to hear responses to my thoughts and even rebuttals. I want to get up early with a smile on my face and make a beautiful breakfast knowing its going to make my girl smile.

  And horny… Yeah. I’m not going to lie to myself about that. It’s been awhile now and coming here is always a sharp reminder of how long its been. I can’t just take my clothes off for anyone though. I think my last girlfriend joked that even after months of slow seduction, she still needed to chain me down and cut them off.