Megan Hart - Switch

nothing and after a few moments of tense silence, my mom

cleared her throat.

"I need to leave the house by 8:00 a.m. on Sunday. Be

here before then, please."

I held back a groan and reconsidered staying over the

night before. Which would be worse, a Saturday night in

my mom's house in Lebanon, or having to get up at ass-

crack o'thirty in the morning? "Fine. I'l be there."

"Thank you," she said stiffly, and not like my mom at al.

"Thank you," she said stiffly, and not like my mom at al.

"Arty wil be thriled."

That was the saving grace to it al. That my little brother

would be happy to see me. I didn't miss living in Lebanon,

and I didn't miss living with my mom, but I did miss being

close enough to see them more often. I'd spent a lot of

time taking care of Arty when he was a baby and a

toddler. He was as much my child as he was my brother.

"See you then." I didn't quite manage to sound happy.

"I love you, honey," my mom said, and like the bitch-brat I was, I hung up without answering.

Austin didn't cal me, and I sure as hel didn't cal him. Eric

didn't cal me, either, a fact that pleased me less. I knew

why—I'd nudged myself out of the top spot in his pecking

order. It would have been funny if it wasn't also sort of

sad.

It did prove one thing, that whatever we had, or almost

had, it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. The

question I couldn't stop asking myself, though, was could I

give him what it appeared he wanted, ful-time? And

would he want it from me when he found out it was me?

Most of al, did I want to become in real life the woman I'd

created in those letters?

I took my pen. I took the paper, the soft, fragrant, special

paper. I only had a couple sheets left. Maybe I wouldn't

need more.

My mom said she'd be back Thursday, a week from

today. I had Eric's schedule for the month. He worked that

night, as wel as the folowing Friday and Saturday.

Sunday, then. A little more than a week. That would give

me plenty of time to prepare.

You will reserve a room at the Harrisburg Hilton for

Sunday night. When you check in, you'll leave

instructions for the second key to be left for me, under

the name Rose Thorn. You will be in the room and

ready for me no later than three-thirty. You will bring

with you a bottle of your favorite lube, a box of

condoms and a copy of your medical records

guaranteeing your clean bill of health. Once inside the

room, you will shower and shave and smooth your skin

with lotion. I want you clean and smelling of lavender

and mint. You will wait for me wearing only the

bracelet I gave you. Kneel by the bed. When I come in,

bracelet I gave you. Kneel by the bed. When I come in,

you may address me at once and show your

appreciation of my presence by kneeling at my feet .

It didn't sound quite right. My words lacked a certain

rhythm and delicacy, but they were al I had. Eric liked

flirting with public displays of his submission, and he'd have

to give up some of that to the clerk to whom he gave my

name. But he'd be outing me, too, and I wasn't sure how I

felt about walking up to a perfect stranger and caling

myself Mistress anything. Stil, I guessed it was time to try

to find out if I could play this role for real.

"You gonna try for that new position?" Brenda had snuck

up on me, not difficult to do since I was lost in swirling,

deep-purple thoughts of fucking and sucking. I didn't think

that was the new position she meant.

"I don't think so." When in doubt, stal. It took me a minute to figure out what she did mean, but then when she cast a

pointed look at the buletin board on the wal behind me, I

turned. I scanned the papers tacked there and nodded.

"Oh. The marketing position? No. I already said I wasn't

interested."

This gave her pause. "They just put this up about ten

This gave her pause. "They just put this up about ten

minutes ago, Paige."

Okay, so Brenda hadn't been one of their preapproved

applicants. I pretended to look more closely. "Oh, that

new position. No. I don't think so. I'm happy where I am."

She made one of those noises people make when they

don't believe you but don't want to come right out and say

so. "I think I might go for it. The salary is a lot better, for one thing. I bet the benefits are good, too."

"It's a lot of responsibility, Brenda." Together we left the buletin board to head down the hal toward our respective

offices, but paused in the halway crossroads. Maybe if I

was lucky Brenda would stop to summon a demon and I

could avoid further awkward conversation.

This early there wasn't much traffic, not even toward the

copy room or the break room, which always had

customers. She shrugged and shifted her purse over her

shoulder.

"I think I could handle it. Don't you?" Her eyes narrowed.

"They're looking for a few people, I heard. Not just one."

I laughed to put her at ease. "I'm realy not interested in it."

Some smal tension I wouldn't have noticed had it not been

so obvious when it eased lifted her shoulders. "I'm going to

do it. My sweetie says I should, anyway. He says he

wouldn't mind retiring a few years early."

That seemed like the last reason for her to take a new job,

but I kept my mouth shut. "Good luck."

"Thanks." She nodded and headed off, pausing for a

moment more. "Lunch, today?"

"I can't. I'l have to work through so I can leave early." I didn't explain further, though I could see her curiosity.

Paul, of course, was in the office when I got in. I dropped

my sweater and purse on the rack and powered up my

computer, then moved to the coffeepot to get that started.

The scent of coffee usualy brought him out from the cave

if he hadn't already caffeinated on the way to work, but

since I needed to talk to him anyway I fixed his cup and

rapped on his door.

"Paul? I need to—" I stopped just inside the door, at first convinced he wasn't in there, after al.

convinced he wasn't in there, after al.

He'd puled the blinds down al the way instead of just half.

The overhead lights, as usual, weren't on, but the table

lamp wasn't on, either. The only light came from the blue-

white shine off the computer monitor. I blinked, my eyes

adjusting, and the gleam of Paul's eyes made me realize he

was, indeed, sitting at his desk. He wore his suit coat, his

tie tight to his throat, his shirt startling and white in the

room's dimness. He reached at once to turn on the table

lamp when I entered, but not even his smile could convince

me nothing was wrong.

I didn't spil the coffee, but I did set it down so hard on the

corner of his desk that I sloshed it over the rim. I went

around the corner of the desk and knelt in front of him as

he turned in the swivel chair to stare at me. I reached for

his hands before I knew it, and he took them, his fingers

strong and warm and heavy in mine.

"What's wrong, Paul?"

"I can't make these figures work," he said calmly. Solemn.

His fingers tightened briefly, a twitch.

I squeezed back, gently. "Do you need me to take a look

I squeezed back, gently. "Do you need me to take a look

at them?"

"No," he said. "I just need to sit here for a few more minutes to get them straight. Okay?"