“Awesome,” he said as he held the final door open for her. 10:00 rounds were over. “How about I swing by your room in a while and we’ll do what we do?”
“Cool, I’ll see you in a bit then.”
She raised her walkie talkie to her mouth and hit the button. They had to sign off after rounds so another staff member, who was on call in case of emergencies and the like, would know they were done. “Rounds complete.”
“Copy that,” the other staffer’s voice replied, followed by the usual burst of static.
Emily practically flew back to her room. She’d been horrible to him before. I don’t know what to tell you, her words echoed in her ears, the snotty tone like an arrow to her heart. What a mean-spirited fucking cunt. Whatever he wanted, she’d do it. She could be better than this. Sure, he’d ruined her life, but that didn’t mean she had to stoop to his level.
She rushed to the shower to shave her legs and trim her pubes; he hadn’t gotten to see those before, so she didn’t know how he’d like her kitty to look. She’d never actually worried about what a guy thought about such things before—she was plenty hot and she knew it.
Still, she’d been rude to DJ.
Kind of. The bastard. Dammit, there I go again! What’s wrong with me?!
After drying off, Emily reached for her sweat suit again, but thought better of it. After how she’d been acting, he deserved better than that baggy shapeless thing. A swift kick in the balls is what he really deserves.
OK, that was it. This couldn’t just be indulgence; it had to be a penance. With a heavy heart, she knew what she had to do. To punish herself for being so terrible. To prove to herself she was capable of better. She rummaged through her closet until she found a little box she’d nearly forgotten she had, and emptied its contents onto her bed.
Can I really do this?
Can I really not?
It was more than an hour before he arrived. She’d expected him before she finished getting dressed—but that was fine. He could take his time. Whatever he wanted. She would be a good girl. In the interim, she’d actually fallen asleep, and woke up to his wolf whistle after he opened her door without knocking.
It was a well-justified one, too. To help put her conscience to rest, she’d picked out the absolutely sluttiest thing she had on hand: a fetish cop costume her boyfriend had talked her into wearing when he was stateside last Halloween nearly a year ago.
It was a dress made of glossy black latex not quite long enough to cover her butt, allowing the barest glimpse of the bottom of the black latex thong if she took anything but the smallest steps. A silver zipper held it together, which she presently had unzipped nearly to her navel; only the tightness of the material kept her breasts from bursting out of it. There were knee-high black leather boots with towering heels, coupled with fishnet stockings sporting tiny handcuff bangles at the tops, and a pair of regular-sized handcuffs clasped onto the belt. A hat, a pair of fingerless black gloves and a little star badge on the breast completed the ensemble.
When her boyfriend had bought it for her, she’d nearly slapped him—she didn’t go for such things, and certainly hadn’t agreed to wear it to their friends’ Halloween party like he’d wanted. She’d amused him in the bedroom with it to soothe his hurt feelings. (OK, so she wasn’t always a good Catholic girl.)
Emily sure wasn’t going to be one tonight.
She stood up, shaking off sleep hurriedly and fervently hoping he shut her door before anyone walked by. “I take it you approve?” She managed a flattered smile, she was pretty sure, even as she cringed inside. She spun in place slowly, letting him see her from all angles. Emily could practically feel his eyes on her butt, and doubted he even noticed the positively whorish level of makeup she’d put on, bright red lipstick and heavy blush and eyeliner. Like it or not, you owe him this. And you deserve it, you bitch.
“Damn, Emily, I had no idea you were into this kind of stuff.”
“Usually I’m not, but I figured you’d like it, so…”
He grinned like a kid in a candy store. It was probably impossible for a hetero male to look at her in this getup and not do so. “You know, I was really worried that you were still pissed at me, for before.”
“Still pissed”?! Oh no! That meant he had realized she’d been mad at him! What must he think of her! How long had he been feeling this, that she was some egomaniacal psychopath who couldn’t handle a facial and some exhibitionism for the sake of common decency?! She wanted to wash her mouth out with soap for her hurtful words, her eyes for ungrateful looks. To wash her soul.
That did it. If she’d had an ounce of hesitancy before, it was washed away in her tsunami of guilt.
“Pissed? DJ, I could never be pissed at you!” she said emphatically, hoping he wouldn’t notice her fists clench at the lie of it. “Nothing could be further from the truth!”
“You’re sure? Really, Emily, I know you want to be polite or whatever, but if there’s any part of you that wants to, please feel free to yell at me, hit me, knife me, whatever.”
Each fantasy of hers he named was more damning than the last. She’d even dreamed of choking him to death one night before waking up in a cold sweat, but she’d made peace with it because she didn’t control her dreams. To hear him say them out loud, as if he knew she’d been thinking them, made her want to crawl into a hole and die.
“No! DJ, please. I was just surprised at the time. I actually really loved it. That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done.” He looked plainly unconvinced. “Really! It was so hot, having you just… take charge like that. So manly, impulsive. I was so turned on,” she said, pawing at his chest affectionately as she tried to use his frame to block sight of her from the still-open door. Though that barely mattered to her now. Being thought of as a slut was nothing compared to being thought of as anti-DJ.
“Seriously?” He still looked skeptical, but it was a rare man who wasn’t susceptible to this much flattery from a girl like her. “You seemed upset, at the time. Embarrassed, even, when I… you know.”
Showed me off like your personal jizz-trophy? “No, I was just trying to be a good girl, that’s all—good girls aren’t supposed to like stuff like that, right? I thought it was crazy hot.” She nodded earnestly, taking his hips in her hands.
“Even when we walked around the building? I know—now—that Ashley’s into that stuff, but I didn’t figure you were.”
Of course I’m not, you fucking…! Emily stopped herself mid-curse. She was getting better. That was good. “Oh no, I just didn’t want to admit it. You have no idea how wet you made me, DJ. It’s just, um, embarrassing, ya know, to be turned on by things like that, for us good girls.”
Her colleague looked like he was finally beginning to believe her, thank God. “Good girl? Pretty sure good girls don’t dress up in stuff like that, Officer Turner.”
“What are you talking about? I’m an officer of the law,” she said playfully. “I’m the goodest girl there is.”
He took a step back, eyeing her appraisingly. One of the girls on her floor walked by, doing a double-take at seeing her RA dressed like a slutty cop, then continued on before she could disrupt DJ. Smart girl. “And you’re sure you mean it?”
She nodded vigorously. “Every word.”