melted her down to her toes.
“Well, if it's worth anything, Melissa Diana Wonder Woman Martin, I think you're pretty super.”
***
After that, they snuggled on the futon for about twenty minutes in companionable, easy silence before Lissa realized she hadn't peed in hours and was about to explode. She stood to put her jeans on, and Mark held out her Catwoman shirt with a sweet smile. It was like teens getting dressed after losing their virginity together, and Lissa blushed and turned her back to him before shrugging out of the robe and ducking into her shirt. Mark looked like he wanted to say something more, something serious, but he must've noticed her dancing back and forth a little.
The ladies' room was so bright, cold, and clinical after the cocoon-like warmth of the art department, but she felt a thousand times better, afterward. And she couldn't wait to get back to Mark, maybe watch a new movie or laugh over an old one they both loved. If only she could see his book case and movie cabinet, she would've truly known if they had the long-term compatibility she hoped for. You could take the girl out of the geeky panties, but you couldn't take the geek out of the girl, and if he had The Notebook somewhere, a serious talk would be in their future.
Lissa had never felt so well-loved and filled with hope as she walked the hallway from the bathroom back to the Art Department. There weren't any chocolates to guide her way this time, but she didn't need them. She'd swallowed the red pill, and it had already taken effect, and there was no way she could ever see Mark, a camera, or, yes, even a chair again without a fluttery shudder in her belly. Heaven knows she'd probably get aroused the next time she read a comic book or saw a gold tassel. Her only regret was that she didn't have any more clean panties and had to go commando in her jeans.
Before she reached the cracked door to his office, she could hear Mark's voice. He sounded altogether more cool and professional than he did when he talked to her, when every word seemed to imply something secret. Must've been business—a client, maybe. She didn't want to interrupt, so she hovered in the hall.
“Yeah, man. It's done. Nailed it. Just like I said. Guess that's one thing good about the snowstorm, right?” He paused and paced. “It's all good. Trapped in an empty building, it's not like there's anything else to do. Took me long enough, I know. But I couldn't finish her off with everyone around, for obvious reasons.” He paused, and she heard a camera click. “Yeah, right here. Let me do some editing, and you'll have images by Monday. She's going to look goddamn beautiful. Should have no trouble with the sale. Yeah, got it. Later.”
He hung up, and it took everything Lissa had not to slide down the wall into a puddle of heartbreak on the floor. How could he? How could he discuss her like that with someone else? Sure, it had been a little insane, feeling that connection with a stranger and being trapped alone in an empty building and doing things that she'd never done before or even allowed herself to fantasize about—but she thought what they had felt was real. It killed her, the way he said it, so breezy and dispassionate and businesslike... as if she were just a thing, just a notch in the bedpost.
Seriously, “nailed it”?
Lissa shook her head. He hadn't “nailed” her.
She had done just as much nailing as he had.
And he'd promised her she could have the SD card, that no one else would ever see. And now, not only did someone else know, not only was it part of some previous deal or bet, but he was going to edit the goddamn images before selling them? To what—airbrush out her curves and turn her into some Wonder Woman Barbie doll?
She's burn the entire fucking building down before she'd let that happen.
Lissa was just about to slam the door open and tear his ass in half when the phone rang again.
“Ranger here.” He paused and paced. “Seriously,
“Well, if it's worth anything, Melissa Diana Wonder Woman Martin, I think you're pretty super.”
***
After that, they snuggled on the futon for about twenty minutes in companionable, easy silence before Lissa realized she hadn't peed in hours and was about to explode. She stood to put her jeans on, and Mark held out her Catwoman shirt with a sweet smile. It was like teens getting dressed after losing their virginity together, and Lissa blushed and turned her back to him before shrugging out of the robe and ducking into her shirt. Mark looked like he wanted to say something more, something serious, but he must've noticed her dancing back and forth a little.
The ladies' room was so bright, cold, and clinical after the cocoon-like warmth of the art department, but she felt a thousand times better, afterward. And she couldn't wait to get back to Mark, maybe watch a new movie or laugh over an old one they both loved. If only she could see his book case and movie cabinet, she would've truly known if they had the long-term compatibility she hoped for. You could take the girl out of the geeky panties, but you couldn't take the geek out of the girl, and if he had The Notebook somewhere, a serious talk would be in their future.
Lissa had never felt so well-loved and filled with hope as she walked the hallway from the bathroom back to the Art Department. There weren't any chocolates to guide her way this time, but she didn't need them. She'd swallowed the red pill, and it had already taken effect, and there was no way she could ever see Mark, a camera, or, yes, even a chair again without a fluttery shudder in her belly. Heaven knows she'd probably get aroused the next time she read a comic book or saw a gold tassel. Her only regret was that she didn't have any more clean panties and had to go commando in her jeans.
Before she reached the cracked door to his office, she could hear Mark's voice. He sounded altogether more cool and professional than he did when he talked to her, when every word seemed to imply something secret. Must've been business—a client, maybe. She didn't want to interrupt, so she hovered in the hall.
“Yeah, man. It's done. Nailed it. Just like I said. Guess that's one thing good about the snowstorm, right?” He paused and paced. “It's all good. Trapped in an empty building, it's not like there's anything else to do. Took me long enough, I know. But I couldn't finish her off with everyone around, for obvious reasons.” He paused, and she heard a camera click. “Yeah, right here. Let me do some editing, and you'll have images by Monday. She's going to look goddamn beautiful. Should have no trouble with the sale. Yeah, got it. Later.”
He hung up, and it took everything Lissa had not to slide down the wall into a puddle of heartbreak on the floor. How could he? How could he discuss her like that with someone else? Sure, it had been a little insane, feeling that connection with a stranger and being trapped alone in an empty building and doing things that she'd never done before or even allowed herself to fantasize about—but she thought what they had felt was real. It killed her, the way he said it, so breezy and dispassionate and businesslike... as if she were just a thing, just a notch in the bedpost.
Seriously, “nailed it”?
Lissa shook her head. He hadn't “nailed” her.
She had done just as much nailing as he had.
And he'd promised her she could have the SD card, that no one else would ever see. And now, not only did someone else know, not only was it part of some previous deal or bet, but he was going to edit the goddamn images before selling them? To what—airbrush out her curves and turn her into some Wonder Woman Barbie doll?
She's burn the entire fucking building down before she'd let that happen.
Lissa was just about to slam the door open and tear his ass in half when the phone rang again.
“Ranger here.” He paused and paced. “Seriously,
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