Switch

mom in her bed, her eyes closed but her mouth moving.

"If anything happens to me, Paige, you need to take care

of Arty. Promise me."

"I promise." It was the only answer to give, realy, whether I thought I could honor it or not.

She smiled. Then I heard a familiar soft snoring and knew

she'd falen asleep. I left and went back to the nurses'

station, where a woman in a starched uniform told me

she'd page Dr. Frank and he'd meet me in the lounge when

he was available. I folowed her directions down the hal

and around the corner to find the lounge decorated in early

American Depression, worn couches in shades of beige

and brown, and abstract art in the same colors on wals in

the same tones. I felt like I'd walked into a giant box of

chocolates, which might have been the look the designer

had been going for. We were in Hershey, after al.

I perched on the edge of the couch but jumped again at

once when the doctor entered the room. Dr. Frank turned

out to be tal, with a head of wild, dark hair and a strong

grip. "Paige DeMarco?"

I nodded and he smiled as he let go of my hand. "Your

mom's going to be fine. Her blood pressure's stabilized

and we managed to stop the hemorrhaging. It was touch-

and-go there for a while, though, I won't kid you. And

she'l have to stay in the hospital a bit longer."

I'd thought I was okay until the floor jumped up to try to

smack me in the face, and Dr. Frank's big hands eased me

onto a couch, where he put a hand on the back of my

neck and pushed my head between my knees with the

practice of a man used to dealing with fainters.

"Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth," he said.

I tried, but my hands were shaking and each breath I took

whistled through my nostrils in a way I found utterly

distracting. It worked, though, because in a minute or so I

no longer felt a red haze threatening to cover me. I looked

up.

up.

"Sorry."

He shook his head. "It happens. Your mom realy is going

to be fine."

"She didn't even tel me she was coming in," I told him. "I had no idea. I'm just a little…can you tel me what's going

to happen now? With her treatment, I mean."

So he sat beside me and laid out the plan of treatment for

my mom, how long it would probably take and what she'd

have to do, and what I could do to help her. Her reasons

for choosing a reconstruction right away instead of waiting

for chemo treatment, the way I'd thought it was always

done. He explained everything to me, more about breast

cancer than I'd ever wanted to know, and I stil didn't quite

understand it al. It was worse than I'd been expecting,

only because up until a few hours ago I hadn't known

anything was wrong with her. My shock must have shown

on my face, because he patted my shoulder.

"There's nothing you can do for her right now. Why don't

you go on home and get some sleep." He paused. "Do you

have anyone who can come get you? You don't look like

have anyone who can come get you? You don't look like

you should be driving."

I nodded without realy thinking about who I'd cal, already

puling out my phone, and he patted my shoulder again. He

left without saying much more, but what was there to say?

My mom had breast cancer, she'd almost died, she'd

probably be fine, but she was stil going to need treatment.

It was a lot to absorb, and I was glad he hadn't stuck

around to baby me through it.

I flipped open my phone and pushed the Contacts button

to bring up my list of names and numbers. I didn't want to

cal my dad, I hadn't quite made up enough with Kira, and

Leo was with Arty. If I went home to Lebanon, I'd need a

ride in the morning to get my car. If I got a ride home, I

could take the bus to work and pick up my car later. I saw

two names in a row, one after the other. Two names, but

only one choice.

He came right away. I wasn't even ashamed that I hadn't

even doubted he would. It was simply something I knew I

could ask, and he would give.

The lobby doors parted and he walked through. The air

disappeared around me. I opened my mouth to speak, to

disappeared around me. I opened my mouth to speak, to

breathe, and could do neither.

I loved him.

I hadn't known it, or wouldn't admit it, but now I couldn't

do anything but feel it. Love was like a punch in the gut,

but I didn't double over. The world tipped up again, the

floor a rocking, roling platform that had decided to throw

me off it. I didn't fal because he was there to catch me.

The smel of him blocked out the scents of bad coffee and

exhaustion and bad news. I breathed, and he filed me.

It was Austin.

Chapter 34

Of course, like an idiot, I didn't tel him I loved him. I let him drive me home and I took him upstairs, where he

hesitated in the doorway until I puled him close and shut

the door behind us. When my mouth found his, he sighed

and his arms went around me as tight as I liked it.

We'd never been shy about fucking on the floor, a table,

the couch. Against a wal. But this time I took his hand and

led him to my bedroom, where I pushed him gently until he

lay on the bed and I crawled up over him to kiss his mouth

and face. Straddling him, I rocked against his denim-

covered crotch until his cock sweled inside his jeans, and

then I slid my body down until I could kiss him there.

My lips left a wet mark, and through the thick material I

could feel his hardness. I pushed my hands under his ass to

lift him closer to my mouth as I rubbed my face on his

thigh. I unbuckled his belt and puled down the jeans and

his boxers. I took him in my mouth, and he made a sound

like coming home.

I let the smel and taste of him fil me up the way it always

had, and I stopped trying to pretend it wasn't anything

had, and I stopped trying to pretend it wasn't anything

more than this. My hands found the weight of his bals, the

length of his cock. My mouth sucked, fingers stroked, lips

and teeth and tongue moved along him al the ways I knew

he liked it best.

He was moaning in minutes, his hips thrusting upward. I

took it al, his cock down my throat as far as I could, and

when he came, I took al that, too. He fel back, panting,

onto the pilows, and I crawled up him again to kiss his

mouth. Then I tucked myself up next to him in the place

that had always been mine.

He was quiet for a while, and I didn't want to talk. The rise

and fal of our breathing timed itself to each other. I put a

hand on his chest to feel the thump of his heart. Austin put

his hand over mine, and our fingers linked.

I fel asleep that way and woke to light outside my window

and a soft stroking between my legs. I didn't open my

eyes. If it was a dream, and it might have been, since the

entire night felt so unreal, I didn't want to wake. The

stroking hit me just right through the soft material of my

pajama bottoms and panties. I shifted, just enough, and

Austin paused to pul the fabric over my hips and thighs.

The bed dipped when he settled back between my legs.

At the first puff of his breath I let out a sigh. When his lips

brushed my already erect clitoris, I put a hand over my

mouth to hide my smile, and when he sucked gently on me,

I bit down hard on my skin to keep in the groan.

Austin ate my pussy like it was his last meal on earth, and I

gave up to the pleasure without hesitation. Aside from

murmured yes or two, I gave him no instructions. I didn't

have to. He didn't need me to guide him, because he

already knew how to do everything I liked.

I came softly, a slow and subtle rippling of my cunt under

his tongue rather than a ful-out blast of climax ripping me

apart. It was good that way. Smooth.

He moved up my body and looked into my eyes as he slid

inside me. So wet he had no resistance, I couldn't hold

back my cry of delight when Austin's cock filed me. He

gathered me close. His every thrust rubbed my clit and I

wrapped my legs tight around him to keep him close

enough to bring me off again. We came within seconds of

each other, me without words and Austin shouting my

name in a passion-strangled voice.

He roled off me, and I didn't jump out of bed to get in the

shower, or even to grab a cloth from my nightstand.

Boneless, sated, I didn't want to move. Fragile, too,

because I couldn't look at him. I was afraid of what I might

see in his face.

It was probably too late for us, and love realy didn't

conquer everything. We'd tried to be together and hadn't

made it work. It hadn't hurt for years, but that didn't mean

I didn't remember how much it had.

"I'l drive you to work if you want. Pick you up after. We

can swing by and get Arty and go visit your mom. Get

your car."

I studied my ceiling as Austin's warmth trickled down my

thighs. "You don't have to do that."

"I know that."

I turned my head to look at him. "What about work for

you?"

He yawned and stretched. "That's the benefit of being the

boss."

I sat. "Since when are you the boss?"

"Since I bought the business," Austin said with a strange

look. "What's the big deal?"

"You just never told me, that's al."

"Paige," Austin said. "You never asked."

This changed things, and I didn't know why. I got out of

bed and stripped out of my pajamas, tossed them in the

hamper and got into the shower, where I contemplated my

stubbled knees and underarms and thought about the ways

life could sneak up on a person.

Just yesterday, Austin was eighteen, captain of the footbal

team, apple of his mother's eye. My boyfriend. A day after

that he'd been my husband, and for a while but not too

long, my enemy. And now…now he was a man who

owned a business and was there when I needed him.

Yesterday I was a scrappy, tough-punk girl who had no

money and wore too much eye shadow. Yesterday I was

young and stupid and thought love could take care of

everything else. So who was I today?

Austin joined me in the shower and I soaped his back. He

soaped mine. He used my razor to shave his face and cut

himself in a few places. I didn't make him breakfast, but I

did make him coffee. It was the nicest morning we'd had

together in a very long time.

Even so, I braced myself for him to question me about "us"

when he dropped me off at work, but Austin didn't say

anything. He only kissed me and tweaked the single strand

of hair escaping from my braid. He waved as he drove

away, and I stood at the front doors and watched him until

he was gone.

Paul didn't ask my reasons for why I'd changed my mind

about the job working for Vivian. If he had, I'd have told

him the truth. That even though I hoped I wouldn't ever

have to take custody of my brother, I had to be prepared

in case I did. And that I was meant for more than being a

secretary, even if I'd never believed being a secretary was

being less of anything.

"Do you want me to cal her?" He was already reaching for

the phone, but put it back in the cradle when I shook my

head.

"I'l just walk down and talk to her." I smiled at him, even though my insides were hopping like rabbits on crack.

Paul nodded and sat back in his chair. We didn't say

anything at first, just looked at each other, but we didn't

need words to share our thoughts. In some ways, Paul

would always be more than a boss to me, which was even

more reason why it was time for me to move on.

"Paige, I just want you to know…" He hesitated, and I

gave him the time he needed to say what he had to say.

"I've realy enjoyed working with you."

"Me, too, Paul."

"And I wanted you to know, too…that if not for you, I

don't think I'd have made it through the past couple of

months."

I shook my head. "You're giving me too much credit."

"Maybe." His tone said he didn't agree, but he wasn't

going to fight me on it. "I just wanted you to know, though,

that every day I knew I could come in here to work and

find everything the way I wanted…no, needed it…every

find everything the way I wanted…no, needed it…every

day I faced knowing I didn't have to worry about anything

because it would al be done…I appreciate that."

He could've offered me a raise, a better computer, more

vacation time. He could easily have kept me, then, just by

asking. Paul could've kept me without much effort, but he

didn't.

He let me go.

"I'm not sure there are any slots left in the program."

Vivian, for al her bravado, couldn't meet my eyes when

she spoke. She toyed with her files, her pen, the pad of

paper on her desk where she'd ostensibly taken notes

during my interview, but where she'd realy only scribbled

and doodled. "I'm afraid you should've applied sooner,

Paige."

"Vivian," I said calmly. "I know why you wanted me to take part in the program."

She looked up, her eyes narrowing. "Oh?"

I nodded and let it sink if for a minute before she spoke

again.

"Your qualifications are average," she said flatly. "But you come highly recommended."

I happened to be confident my qualifications were not

merely average, but I didn't push her on it. "I'm also the

best candidate you have for this program."

"You can't know that."

It was only a guess, but her answer told me I was right.

No matter how much she'd wanted to get me away from

Paul and under her thumb instead, she also had to hire

candidates who could do the work. I also knew this was

an in-house program, open only to current employees, that

even if it was "better" than being an executive assistant, it was stil considered entry level, and I could've counted al

the people working there who'd be interested in applying. I

didn't care if it was arrogant to say I was the best choice.

It was true.

Vivian cleared her throat and put down her pen. "What

does…Paul…say about this?"

I didn't miss the way she lingered on his name. "He's very

supportive of me."

"And you'd be wiling to leave him?"

"I wouldn't be sitting here if I didn't intend to take the job."

Again, she cleared her throat. I wanted to feel sorry for

her, but nobody had made her start an affair with a

married man. Knowing Paul the way I did, I doubted he

was even the one to initiate it. Hel. Even if he had, anyone

with two brain cels to rub together should know better

than to poach.

"I'l let you know," she said finaly.

I knew better than to poke. I stood and offered my hand,

which she took as though the gesture surprised her.

"Thanks for your time."

"I'l let you know," she said again.

"I'm sure you wil."

She opened her mouth as if she meant to say more, but

closed it abruptly. Without another word she bent back to

her work and I left her to it. I passed Brenda in the hal,

and she gave me a squinty look.

and she gave me a squinty look.

"Were you just talking to Vivian?"

"Yep. Is that where you're going?"

She nodded. "I hope she hires me, Paige. This is my

second interview for the program." She paused. "I thought

you said you weren't interested."

"Things change," was al I said.

Brenda nodded. "Yeah, I guess they do."

"Good luck," I said, and meant it.

"You, too," she said, but probably didn't. "Though I'd be

—"

She stopped. I waited.

"Brenda?"

She shook her head, then gestured me closer. "It's just

that…wel, you know. I didn't think Vivian would want to

work with you because of you know what."

I kept my expression neutral. "No, what?"

I kept my expression neutral. "No, what?"

"Paul," Brenda whispered harshly. Her eyes glittered.

"What about him?"

"She…and him…you know."

"I realy don't," I said calmly. I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"Don't you? Because everyone knows they are…?"

I studied her, wondering if she and her "sweetie" ever did it doggie-style.

"Or were…?" Brenda lilted, waiting for me to respond.

"Not a clue what you mean, Brenda."

She frowned, maybe unwiling to go there. "Oh, okay, if

you hadn't heard. But people are saying it, so I thought

you knew."

"What would that have to do with me, anyway?"

Brenda looked uncomfortable. "Wel, you have lasted

longer than any of his other assistants."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I think you and Paul," she said. "You know."

I lifted my chin toward the bathroom at the end of the hal.

"I have to run. Good luck with the interview."

She nodded and turned on her heel. I watched her for a

moment before I went into the bathroom, where I ran cold

water in the sink and dampened a paper towel to press to

my forehead and against the back of my neck.

I wasn't my mother, but nobody here knew that. Months

ago I'd have been sick to my guts thinking anyone believed

I was fucking my boss, but now it simply didn't matter. I

knew the truth. So did Paul. Paul, who I was leaving.

I didn't need to use the toilet, but I went into the stal

anyway. I put the lid down and crouched there, my head in

my hands. I took a deep breath, but the scent of ammonia

and those nasty pink toilet cleaners overwhelmed me and I

covered my nose and mouth with my hand. I tried to catch

a whiff of Austin, but could only faintly smel the lotion I'd

smoothed on this morning.

smoothed on this morning.

I could remember, though. How he smeled. How he felt

and tasted, and not just because of last night and this

morning.

From before.

Austin's behind me, his breathing heavy like he'd just

run up the stairs. He's got his hand wrapped in my

hair, tipping back my head so it's hard for me to

swallow. His prick jerks inside me, but he's not

thrusting right now. He's close to coming.

I am, too.

"Pul it," I tel him. "Harder."

His fingers tighten but he doesn't pul. "I don't want to hurt

you, Paige."

I want him to hurt me. He's bigger than me. Stronger. He

holds my heart in his hands every day and doesn't break it,

at least not very much. But I want him to hurt me now, in

this moment, when my cunt is clutching on his cock and

I'm ready to burst into an orgasm that wil blind me. I don't

know why. I just want it, and I want Austin to be the one

know why. I just want it, and I want Austin to be the one

to give it to me.

"Pul my fucking hair!" I grit out the words around a groan.

His fingers tighten as he pushes inside me, then puls out,

but he doesn't do more than tug. This boy has tackled

other boys on the footbal field hard enough to break their

bones and knock them out. I know he could pul my hair

harder than he is.

He fucks into me smoothly as his fingers find my clit and

his other hand releases my hair. My head fals forward. On

my hands and knees I can put my head down and look

under my body to see where he's joined me. Instead, I

bury my face in the pilow and lift my ass in the air, push

harder against him, force him to slam his body into mine.

It does hurt, but hurts so good. Pain and pleasure are

mingling. I've read about this but never understood it,

even though it made me creep my hands into my

panties and stroke myself into coming as I read. But

it's not quite enough, it's not what I really want. Or it's

not enough of what I want.

I pull away, leaving Austin muttering a complaint. I

I pull away, leaving Austin muttering a complaint. I

roll onto my back and hold him off me with a foot on

his chest. His cock is huge and wet from me, and I

think about taking it in my mouth. Right now. He'll

taste like me, and I shudder at the thought as my

fingers move to cover my cunt. I press my palm

against my clit and pleasure jolts through me.

I get out of bed and he follows when I crook my finger.

We've fucked in the living room before. I stand in the

cool air with the windows open and without blinds,

showing me off to anyone who might look through. We

live on the third floor, which make voyeurs unlikely,

but I'm still aroused at thinking we might be giving

someone a show.

Austin smiles and moves toward me. Step and step and

one more, and my back hits the old plaster walls we've

never painted. His hands fit my hips just right. His

knee nudges my legs apart, and his thigh presses

between mine. He kisses me.

"What are you doing?" Austin says, laughing.

"Fuck me." My voice shakes.

His brow furrows for a minute, but only that briefly. Then

he's got his hands under my ass and has lifted me, my legs

around his waist, my back against the wal. His mouth

seals mine before I can take a breath, and I can't breathe.

His kiss steals my air.

My heart beats fast in my ears and the world rushes

around us. Austin fucks me and I try to take another

breath but his lips are closed tight over mine, his tongue

fucking my mouth the way his prick fucks my pussy. I'm

drowning in him. In this. In us.

I break the kiss with a gasp and now I understand more

about the alure of pain. "Put your hand on my throat."

"What? No." Sweat gleams on his forehead.

"I want you to do it, Austin."

Both of us can barely speak, our bodies using al their

energy for the fucking and leaving little for conversation. I

dig my nails into his shoulders and rock my hips, getting

closer. I close my eyes. I want him to do this, give me

what I want. What I think I want, anyway. What I want to

try.

"Put your hand on my throat!"

"Fuck…Paige…" He's getting close, and soon it wil be

too late. He'l come, I won't.

My eyes open and I bear down on him, my legs around his

waist. "I want you to do it!"

"I don't want to hurt you—"

"It's sexy," I argue.

He'l have to put me down soon. He's got me braced

against the wal, but even Austin isn't that strong. I bring his

face to mine and kiss him. And then I make him give me

what I want.

"If you don't, I can find someone who wil."

"What?" His eyes fly open, the pupils wide and dark. He's

so close he can't keep his hips from moving, even though

he wants to stop. I see it in his face. "What do you mean,

you'l find someone—"

"Maybe I already have. Did you think of that?" The lie,

cruel, pushes from my mouth.

cruel, pushes from my mouth.

I see him thinking about it, as best he can anyway with the

blood pooling in his cock and orgasm clouding judgment.

How things have changed lately. How I've wanted

different things…and where I might have learned to want

them. From who.

He doesn't know about the books I've found, ordered

from overseas, or the Internet chat rooms where people

address each other as Master and Mistress or Slave.

Austin doesn't know this part of me that wants to explore.

"Maybe I've been—" pleasure chokes me "—fucking

around."

"Have you?" He's angry in an instant.

Oh, how wel I know him.

I don't answer, but my head tips back again. My eyes

close. I'm going to come. My back skids suddenly along

the plaster as Austin shifts.

"Paige! Goddamn it!"

"Put your hand on my throat," I whisper.

"Put your hand on my throat," I whisper.

And Austin does.

His hand can't close al the way around my neck, but it's

big enough to come pretty close. We move together,

sliding as sweat makes us slick and fucking leaves him

unsteady. Something rips into me. A nail left from a picture

knocked off the wal when once I slammed a door. I can't

cry out, I can't breathe, he's done what I asked and taken

my breath again.

Austin's fingers close tighter and my fingernails dig deeper

and we both come at the same time. Only after that does

he put me down, his hands shaking, and then sink to the

ratty tied-rag rug that always manages to slip out of place

on the dirty hardwood floor. I don't quite fal, but I

colapse into a crouch.

My back stings. Hot blood drips steadily down my back,

over my ass and down my leg. I sip in the air and wait for

the world to stop rocking and my body to stop pulsing. It

seems to take a very long time.

He won't look at me.

He gave me what I wanted, but it's the last time I'll ask

Austin for anything for a long time. I move out the

next day, letting the bruises on my neck and stitches

on my back speak when I will say nothing. He gave me

what I wanted, what I needed, but the price was high.

Too high.

Someone came into the bathroom and entered the stal at

the far end. I couldn't stay there, holding back sobs and

trying not to breathe. I washed my hands and face again,

and looked in the mirror to be sure nothing was out of

place. I went back to my desk and got back to work,

wishing for a list to take up al my attention so I didn't have

to think about the past.

I was realy going to leave Paul. Move on. Move up.

But what about the rest of my life? Was I going to move

on and up from it?

Chapter 35

"Thanks for taking me." I gathered up my purse and

sweater while my dad puled into the spot next to my car.

"I appreciate it."

"No problem." He drummed the steering wheel with his

fingertips and stared out the window at the hospital. "So.

Your mom's in there, huh?"

I sat back against the leather seat of his BMW and

nodded. "Yes. She has breast cancer, and there were

complications with the surgery."

He flinched, his cheeks paling. My dad swalowed hard.

His fingers stiled and gripped the wheel. He didn't look at

me. "How does she look?"

It wasn't exactly the question I thought he'd ask, and it

annoyed me. "She looks like someone who's sick and who

almost died. How do you think she looks?"

"I meant how is she," he said, but I didn't quite believe him.

"You could go see her yourself." I knew he wouldn't. My

parents weren't enemies, but in my entire life they'd never

been anything like friends.

"Yeah. Yeah, I could do that." He licked his lips, then

turned to me with a bright, hard grin. "I don't think she'd

see me, do you?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe you could just send her flowers."

The easy way out. He nodded and hunched forward,

looking upward to the hospital building as though he was

trying to pick out which window was hers. Her room was

on the other side, but I didn't mention that.

"Thanks again for the ride," I said.

"You know, I did love her, Paige. Your mother. I'm sure

she's said otherwise—"

"She's never said, either way." I shifted, my hand on the

door handle. I wanted to escape this conversation before it

happened, but I didn't get out.

"She hasn't?" My dad looked surprised.

"She never realy talked much about you at al, Dad."

This didn't make him very happy, and his eyebrows

beetled down. I caught a glint of silver threads in them,

too, against the blond. He sat back in his seat and turned

toward me.

"She had to have said something. I mean…I'm your dad."

"She never gave me details," I told him as gently as I

could. "It realy wasn't my business, was it?"

Not to mention how squicky it would be to hear details

about the affair that had resulted in my birth. I'd known my

whole life who my dad was, and that I only saw him

sometimes. That he had a couple other families more

important than mine, and that he always had more money

that somehow never made its way into my mom's walet

the way it should've. But I hadn't ever asked for details,

the wheres and whys and whens. I'd assumed she loved

him. I'd never considered that he might have loved her.

"I did, though. Love her." My dad cleared his throat. "You look like her, Paige. So much now."

He hadn't seen her in years, and I looked like him, but I

He hadn't seen her in years, and I looked like him, but I

smiled. "Thanks."

"She was so beautiful, you wouldn't believe it. She knew

just how to make a cup of coffee, too, my God, that

woman was a wizard." He drifted into memories, no longer

seeing me.

I wasn't impressed with his recolection. She was pretty

and made good coffee. Nice. What about she was smart,

kind, generous, funny? That she made a wicked meat loaf

and could stretch a budget so thin you could see through it,

but stil come up with the cash for a new pair of sneakers

or a birthday cake.

"My first wife didn't realy understand me."

I groaned. "Oh, Jesus, Dad. God."

I got out of the car and slammed the door. I didn't want to

listen to his crock-of-shit explanations for why he'd fucked

his secretary, knocked her up and left her to raise their kid

alone. I didn't want to hear his reasons for being unfaithful.

Maybe if he'd married my mother, if the story had become

a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after, with me, their pretty

princess, in a white dress and white patent-leather shoes

princess, in a white dress and white patent-leather shoes

with a pony and a clown at her birthday party, I might

have cared. I might have listened. But as it was, I turned

my back and tried to leave him behind.

My dad got of the car, too. "Paige!"

There had been few occasions when my dad had to raise

his voice tone. I'd always been so terrified he'd stop loving

me, I'd never misbehaved. My feet stiled automaticaly,

but I didn't turn.

He caught up to me and reached for my arm, but didn't

grab it when I glared. "Paige. Wait a minute."

"Dad, realy. I have to get inside. I promised Mom I'd stop

by and I have to get home to take care of Arty."

He looked blank.

"Arty. My brother." I didn't add the "half." "He's in an afterschool-care program, but I have to get back in time to

pick him up."

He looked up again at the building, then back at me. "I

don't think I'd better go in there. But wil you tel her I

asked about her?"

asked about her?"

"Of course." I paused, then decided not to hold back.

"You know, Dad, she's been laid off from the factory for

the past couple months. I don't know what her insurance is

like, but I'm sure she could use some money."

"Did she tel you to ask me that?"

I'd been annoyed before, but now his quick suspicion

pissed me off. "No. She wouldn't. But you have it, and she

needs it."

My dad shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and

looked at the ground. "How much does she need?"

"How much can you spare for someone you say you

loved?" I shot back, not caring if I made him mad.

He looked up at me. "You realy don't know the story,

Paige."

"I don't have to know it, Dad."

We faced each other over cracked concrete and neither of

us moved. My father sighed and stretched his neck back

and forth, then tossed up his hands. "If I give you a check,

and forth, then tossed up his hands. "If I give you a check,

wil you give it to her?"

"Yes, sure. Of course I wil."

He eyed me, then leaned back into the car and fumbled

around before puling out a checkbook. He scribbled

hastily and tore it off, then pressed it into my hand as

though he was afraid he might change his mind and take it

back. I didn't look at it, just tucked it in half inside my

palm. My dad could be generous, but I didn't want to

know, just then, if he'd made me proud or disappointed

me.

"And tel her…tel her I was asking about her. Okay?"

"Yes, Dad."

"How about you? You need anything?" He held up the

checkbook, but I waved it away.

"No. I'm fine. I'm going to be getting a new job."

He looked impressed. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be in a new marketing program."

"Wil they give you a raise?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"It's about time they recognized your potential at that

place. Gave you a step-up."

"Nobody's giving me a step-up. I interviewed, I'm

qualified. It's not a favor, Dad."

"Of course it isn't." He tucked the checkbook into his

jacket pocket. "I didn't mean that it was."

I straightened my shoulders. "I'd better get inside."

My dad held open his arms as if he expected a hug. I gave

him one, stiff armed as it was, and he kissed my cheek. He

squeezed my shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Paige. You should know that."

I shrugged and smiled and left before he could get

sentimental. When I gave my mom the check, she stared at

it for a long time before she unfolded it. She blinked

rapidly when she saw whatever he'd written, then folded it

tight again and handed it to me.

"Would you put that in my purse in the drawer, there, hon?

I'l have to get you to run it to the bank for me later." Her

I'l have to get you to run it to the bank for me later." Her

voice stil sounded hoarse but her color was better, and

she was sitting up. She'd brushed her hair and held it back

from her face with a pretty headband.

"Aren't you surprised at al?" I put the check inside her

walet and closed the drawer.

"At what? That you were able to shame your dad into

helping me out? Or at how much he gave?"

"Both?" I didn't ask her how she'd known I'd been the one

to force his hand.

My mom smiled and patted the side of the bed. "Come

here, Paige."

I did.

"I never told you why your dad and me never made it."

I sighed. "Mom, I realy don't care. I know al the experts

would say it traumatized me for life."

"Hush," she ordered, and I fel silent. "Me and your dad, when we met…wel, it was realy good. Right off the bat. I

knew he wasn't happy at home, and not because he told

knew he wasn't happy at home, and not because he told

me. I'd had plenty of guys tel me al about how their wives

didn't understand them, or how their marriages had been

over for a long time before I came along. I knew what I

was looking at. It wasn't your dad who came after me,

Paige. I went after him."

"Mom. I realy don't want to know."

"Wel, I want to tel you," she said. "So shut up and let me do it, or I swear I'l come back and haunt you if I die."

"Stop. You're not going to die for a long, long time." I told her and squeezed her hand.

"So I fel for this guy so hard it was like someone had

snuck up behind me and shoved me down a flight of stairs.

I just thought he was the handsomest, most special,

smartest…sexiest…"

I grimaced. "Okay, I get it. You were into my dad."

"Oh, no. Not your dad," my mother said. "Denny. Me and your dad used to go out after work sometimes for drinks.

He needed to get away from home, for whatever reason, I

guess it was because he wife was a ful-on bitch, but

guess it was because he wife was a ful-on bitch, but

whatever. Me and him and Dennis used to go out after

work and just hang out."

"Denny?" I shook my head, thinking of my dad's longtime

buddy. "But…you and dad…and…wait a minute.

Denny?"

"Oh, sure. Denny." She gave a happy sigh. "He was so

handsome. I was crazy about Denny."

"But what happened?"

"Wel," my mother said, "as it happened, Denny wasn't as crazy about me. I caught him stepping out on me with

some whore he picked up at the Downtown Lounge on

dolar draft nights. What with one thing and then another,

with your dad not happy at home and me brokenhearted

about Denny, we sort of just turned to one another."

I got up from the bed and paced the narrow corridor

between it and the wal. My world had done its share of

flips over the past couple days, but this had stood me on

end. I finaly sat in the chair and linked my hands together.

My mother had been watching me patiently. "You al

right?"

right?"

"I'm fine."

Her laugh trailed off into a cough, and I gave her a drink.

"Paige, I'm sorry. I know you had some idea in your head

about me and your dad, but it's time you knew."

"He said he loved you!" I blurted.

"Wel, I was pretty damn good," my mom said. "Don't men always think they love a realy good lay?"

"Oh, Mom." I shook my head. "Was that al it was? A

mistake?"

"No. It was the best mistake I ever made," my mother said

with a smile. "Because I ended up with you."

Chapter 36

It was sily to be shy around Austin, but I was. He'd seen

every part of me, the best and worst, and that should've

made me more comfortable with him than anyone else.

That was the way it had been when we were together, but

now…now things had changed and I was stil not sure

what that meant for either one of us.

He wasn't pushing, for once. He caled to ask me about

my mom and to see if I wanted to meet him for dinner. He

didn't say it was a date, but that's what it felt like it had to

be on a Saturday night. I told him I was busy, that I was

tired, I told him a bunch of excuses and he listened to each

one with a soft "mmm-hmm" but no protest.

"Tomorrow, then," Austin said.

"I have plans tomorrow," I told him, and he was silent.

"But…Austin, I'l cal you."

"Okay, Paige. You do that."

He hung up, and I wondered if I'd lost him. I dialed him

after five minutes, and when he picked up, I said, "I told

after five minutes, and when he picked up, I said, "I told

you I'd cal you."

He laughed. "You changed your mind?"

I thought of a hotel room and a man on his knees. "I do

have plans tomorrow. But I wil cal you. Okay?"

"With that guy?"

I should've known caling him back would lead to a

conversation I didn't want to have. "Yes. Eric."

"Does he treat you right?"

I laughed. "Oh, Austin."

"I want to know."

"He…it's not realy…like that."

Austin grunted. "Then what's it like?"

"I can't explain it to you." I sighed. "Listen, I'm realy wiped out. I'm going to go take a hot bath and read a

book and go to bed."

"No dinner?"

"No dinner?"

He could be persistent, and charming, and I loved him.

Suddenly, I loved Austin with everything I had inside me.

More than I ever had, years before, when I was young

and stupid and had no idea what it meant to love someone.

I knew now, because I'd had it and lost it. And then I was

crying, a hand over my eyes and swalowing hard to keep

him from hearing. But Austin heard me, anyway.

"Paige? What's wrong? Is it your mom?"

I couldn't tel him. Not until everything else had been taken

care of and I'd done al I needed to do. I couldn't tel

Austin I loved him without knowing for sure I could let him

love me.

"I have to go," I said, but didn't hang up. I even loved his breathing, the familiar in-and-out of it. I wanted to hold on

to it for a minute longer.

"Paige," Austin said in a low voice. "Remember what I said."

Whatever it takes.

I remembered.

"I have to go, Austin. I'l cal you. Later."

I hung up that time. I wanted to cry. And then I did.

"Paige. How nice to see you again. What can I do for you

today? Something pretty for a friend? Something nice for

yourself?" Miriam's warm, crimson-painted smile didn't

urge an answering grin from me.

It wasn't her fault. I felt as white and thin as paper held to

a too-bright light. I felt ready to tear.

"Something for me." I already knew what I needed, but

before I could head for the back room where she kept her

files of writing papers, Miriam came around the counter.

"My dear, you look awful," she said without any pretense

of diplomacy. "You sit down and have some tea right now.

Or better yet, come here."

She gestured and I folowed. She took me into a back

room marked Private and sat me down in a spindly but

comfortable chair in front of a polished wood table. I sat

gratefuly; my knees were a little shaky. She didn't pour me

tea from a pot, but she heated water in a smal microwave

and gave me my choice of tea bags from a smal container.

She didn't ask me to reveal my secrets. Not that I would

have. I didn't know Miriam al that wel, and though she

was old enough to be my grandmother she'd never acted

like one. I was glad for the tea, though. She passed me a

cookie from a tin, too.

"Sugar helps," she said.

I nibbled. "With what?"

"With everything!" Miriam laughed an entirely sexy laugh

and I could easily imagine her as the 1940's pinup girl she

must've been. "There, now. Your color's coming back."

Apparently I hadn't just felt like paper, I'd looked like it,

too. "Thanks, Miriam. But I have to get going. I have an…

appointment."

"Ah." She nodded and smiled. "And you need something

special for it, yes? Something special to write on?"

I swalowed sweetness but tasted bitterness. "Yes."

I swalowed sweetness but tasted bitterness. "Yes."

"I have just the thing." Miriam held up a finger and got up from the table to pul down a large album from one of the

shelves.

Covered in what looked like leather, the album opened to

reveal sheets of paper, al types, each bound inside the

album with thin strips of metal that held the pages together

without punching holes. Several loose pages fluttered as

Miriam turned the pages, carefuly touching only the edges.

I moved closer to look at what she offered. I'd seen lots of

fine papers, many of them from right here in this shop, but

the pages in this book were beyond fine. They were

exquisite.

"Handmade papyrus," Miriam said with a reverence some

people used for jewels. "This is linen-textured parchment

cut from an antique book bound in the 1700s. And this

one was just so lovely I had to have it."

She tapped a page of plain white, slightly glossy paper.

"Doesn't look like much, but it holds the ink in such a

way…"

She sighed and shook her head, stil turning pages and

catching a few more that floated free. "I know I have

catching a few more that floated free. "I know I have

something in here just for you. I keep this only for the most

special occasions."

"You don't even know what I need it for." It sounded like

a protest, when I didn't mean it to. My fingers itched to

caress those papers. To find exactly the right one.

"Gram?" Ari poked his head through the curtain. "I

delivered that letter for you—oh, sorry. I didn't know you

weren't alone."

Miriam waved a hand. "It's al right. Paige, would you

excuse me for a minute? I need to go take care of

something."

"Sure, of course."

"You go right ahead." Miriam put her hand on my shoulder

as she passed, as though for support.

Greedy, I was already puling the book toward me, but I

paused when she touched me. I looked up. She was a tiny

woman, and though she stood and I sat, we were stil

nearly eye to eye. She cocked her head to look at me.

"You'l find just the right thing. You always do. I told you,

Paige, you have a knack for knowing just what someone

needs." With that, she squeezed my shoulder and left me

there.

She was right, I thought, my fingers already flipping the

album back to the beginning so I could start with the first

page and savor each one. I was good at knowing what

people needed, and how to give it to them or how to help

them take it. Too bad I didn't know how to do the same

for myself.

And then, there it was.

I found it in the middle of the album. A heavy, cream-

colored card of high-grade linen. Expensive stock. The

sort of paper I coveted and hoarded but never actualy

used. A slightly rough edge along one side. Custom cut, I

could see, from a larger sheet. Not quite heavy enough to

be a note card, but too thick to use in a computer printer.

Shal we begin?

He'd been coming out. I'd been going in. Days later, the

first note arrived.

Hi, Ari. What are you doing here?

Delivering something for my grandma.

With shaking fingers I puled the paper from its binding.

Wow, I didn't think I'd run into you.

Of course not, dear, why would you?

I no longer had to wonder who'd sent that first list. The

one that had changed my life. Miriam, it seemed, knew

what I'd needed.

Now I knew what I had to do.

The right clothes make al the difference.

I wore a black pencil skirt with sheer, blackfoot seamed

stockings and a garter belt. A white shirt, fitted, with

buttons and long sleeves. Underneath, I wore plain white

lace panties with a matching bra. Black stiletto pumps. In

shoes so high it's impossible not to walk as though you're

fucking the world with each step.

I looked like a mistress, finaly, even if it wasn't the vinyl-

I looked like a mistress, finaly, even if it wasn't the vinyl-

catsuit and flogger-wielding sort. I felt like a mistress, too,

which was probably more important. I'd put this outfit on

like armor, a shield, and there was no mistaking I turned

heads.

I loved it. I don't think there's a woman alive who doesn't

relish that power of knowing any man she passes would

get on his knees for a taste of her. Even if it's al mostly

fantasy, it was one I was capable of delivering, and I had

no doubt there were at least a few I passed along the

street who would've gladly given me what I wanted just

because I demanded it.

I was a few minutes early, but not too many. The lobby of

the Hilton was done in subdued reds and golds and

browns, the carpet clean but worn in places that turned the

floral pattern into something more geometric. Paneled

wood wals turned it into a gentlemen's club missing only

men in cravats and top hats smoking cigars. The elevators

were off to the left while straight ahead past the front desk

were couches and chairs set up in conversational

groupings and doors leading to conference rooms. I took a

seat in a far chair half hidden by a tal potted plant that

turned out to be plastic.

I saw him. He didn't see me, but then Eric wasn't looking

for me the way I'd been waiting for him. Besides, I'd

planned it that way.

He went to the desk. I could see his grin from where I sat,

could tel by the way he pushed his too-long hair out of his

eyes again and again he was nervous. He had an overnight

bag slung over one shoulder.

He looked so beautiful. The hair, the eyes, the long legs

and broad shoulders. I thought of him with his hand on his

prick, coming at my command. I thought of him on his

knees, his mouth on my knee, my thigh. My cunt.

I thought of the bracelet that marked him as my

responsibility.

I thought of a lot of things as I watched him head for the

elevator and punch the button. I thought of even more as I

watched him wait for it to arrive, its progress from the top

floor taking forever and marked with a ping and the floor

number lit above the sliding doors. I got to my feet in my

armor, with my shield. The plastic plant blocked the view a

little, but he could've seen me, had he looked.

Eric didn't look around. He bounced on the bals of his

feet. His bag slapped his side and he let it slide from his

shoulder to grab the strap. The elevator pinged but didn't

open, stuck on the third floor. I heard him mutter

something. I stepped away from the plant. The elevator

opened.

Sometimes, you turn back.

And sometimes, you walk away.

I watched him get into the elevator and the doors closed

behind him. I watched its progress up and up, the lit

numbers showing me exactly how far he went. Then I

turned on my high, spiked heel and went to the front desk,

where I puled a letter from my black clutch purse.

It was an explanation, short but firm, and a final list of

commands for Eric to folow. He would be disappointed,

but something told me he'd be relieved, too. Some things

are better left in fantasy.

I handed it to the clerk. "Would you see that the gentleman

who just checked in under the name Rose Thorn gets this

note, please? It's important."

The staff at the Hilton are wel trained, and this boy was no

exception. Or maybe it was the clothes and the way I said

the words, as though I had no doubt he would jump to do

my bidding without even the snap of my fingers. He

nodded and took the paper from me. He looked at the

blank front and then at me, and nodded.

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"Right away," I said.

"Yes. I'l do it myself." He looked to the girl beside him, who shrugged, not at al taken in by any of this.

He didn't peek as he walked away, and no matter what he

might have done the moment the elevator closed behind

him, I would never know.

It was done.

Austin opened the door after I'd knocked three times. He

looked me up and down, his mouth slowly curving. He

opened the door, wide, and stepped back to let me

through. I didn't miss the way he leaned toward me as I

passed him, or the way he breathed me in.

I stopped in his living room and pivoted to face him.

"Austin."

"Paige," he said patiently.

I took a breath so deep it lifted my shoulders, and I

dropped my purse. It hit the floor and bounced, but neither

of us looked at it. When I opened my arms he came into

them, and when I kissed him, he kissed me back.

"I want you," I said.

I showed him how much with my hands and mouth.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

Austin kissed me harder.

"I love you," I told him.

It was not the first time, but I didn't want it to be the last.

Austin gathered me close and breathed into my hair, his

big hands hot and restless on my back. "I love you, too."

Sometimes, you turn back.

Sometimes, you turn back.

Sometimes, you walk away.

And sometimes, you find the place you're meant to be, and

you stay there. You find a way to make it work.

Whatever it takes.

SWITCH

ISBN: 978-1-4268-4601-4

Copyright Š 2010 by Megan Hart.

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