Transparent Illusions

“Please let me pay for the dress.”

Saffron Tyler ran her hands down the full, satin material, letting her fingers linger over the lacy edge of the overskirt. She glanced at herself in the mirror and wondered if the dress had looked this good in the store. Or was it the fact she was standing in her bedroom that made her feel so sexy? Did people in the renaissance time dress like this? She thought they were a little more…discreet.

“Jenna, are you sure about this dress? It doesn’t seem to fit the time period.”

“I’m positive, because it’s absolutely gorgeous on you. I’ll feel much better, though, if you let me pay for it. Please.”

Pay for it. Saffron hit the mute button her earpiece and sighed heavily. She never should have told Jenna that her latest job had fallen through. Her friend was having a hard enough time paying for her wedding without adding a five-hundred dollar dress to the tab.

Well, it wasn’t really a wedding, was it? It was a ten-year anniversary present to her husband, who had just survived a bout with testicular cancer. For two years, Jenna had worried whether Holden would live. Saffron had held her friend close many nights while she cried and cursed the heavens for the fact that her husband was at death’s door. Now that he was in remission, she’d planned a reenactment of their wedding vows, set in the time period Holden loved.

Saffron would be the maid-of-honor, as she had been at their wedding ten years ago. Back then, she’d worn a taffeta creation that had been quickly shoved to the back of her closet. Now, however—she stared at the black satin petticoat with a red overskirt decorated with black embroidered swirls. The corset was also black satin, displaying quite a bit of Saffron’s ample breasts. She glanced at the crimson bolero jacket lying on her bed. It would hide some skin, even if it wasn’t exactly historically correct.

Maybe she should wear her hair down. A quick flip of her fingers released the clip that held her long blond hair on top of her head. It cascaded over her shoulders and she nodded in approval. That was much better. Of course, getting Jenna to agree to the hair-down part might be tough, but it could be done.

“Saff, are you listening to me?”

“Shit.” Saffron unmuted the phone. “Sorry, I was just admiring myself in the mirror. You’re not paying for this dress because I’ve already put it on my credit card.”

“That was when you thought the sex job was coming through. Since it hasn’t, you need to reconsider. I’ll write you a check.”

“Thanks for making me feel like a hooker. It wasn’t a sex job, it was a writing job.”

“It was a writing job at a sex club where you would be expected to have sex with men.”

Saffron kept her mouth shut, knowing that anything she said would be taken wrong at this point. She hadn’t completely been honest with her friend about the writing gig she’d tried to land. It wasn’t exactly your run of the mill sex club she’d tried to get into. It was one that expected big bucks from its regular full-time members, and fulfilled every fantasy an applicant could think of, or so the owners claimed.

Saffron had applied as a submissive, and the psychological evaluation she’d taken said she had the perfect submissive soul.

She supposed she must not have been submissive enough in her interview to land a spot, or else she’d already be on the plane. The three men and two women she’d met earlier in the month had told her, if she’d been selected for a spot, they would let her know today.

Since it was almost eleven at night, it looked like she would be informing Ms. Francis Steele that her idea of doing an undercover piece at Fingertip Fantasies had gone bust, and it was all Saffron’s fault.

That was five grand down the drain, money she would never see. And she was wearing five hundred dollars worth of it right now. Coming up with the money to pay next month’s credit card bill might be a stretch. She’d never borrowed from her card to pay her bill, but she might have to do just that.

Perhaps tonight she needed to sit down and think up some proposals for area magazines and newspapers. She could make up the money there, even if it wasn’t the amount she would have made with Steele.

Going into the Steele offices had been tough. She’d done work for many of the major magazines exclusive to the Seattle area, but Steele’s underground magazine, Salacious, catered to the world of sex and was distributed all over the US and Canada.

She’d hoped to use this job as a stepping-stone, letting other magazines across the country know she was up to doing work for them. True, it would be a story about the sex business, but it would show them her ability to propose, research, and complete a job.

She’d gone in with the idea of interviewing a few high-end hookers, discussing their lives and how their jobs had changed them. But Ms. Steele had proposed another idea: infiltrate the high-end fantasy service as a submissive, and come back with a story that would knock readers’ socks off and offer some information on Fingertip Fantasies, which was a very private organization.

The publisher had tried to give her the usual thousand for this job, but she’d refused, saying she was sure she could bring back a whopper of a story. That wouldn’t be happening now, since she wouldn’t even be going to the club.

“Shit, what am I going to do?” Saffron winced when she realized she’d allowed the thought to slip past her lips.

“I’m putting a check in the mail to you tomorrow.”

“Go ahead, I’ve had my service stopped for two weeks, remember? According to what I’ve told everyone, I’m going on vacation, and I think I’m going to follow through that idea. Two weeks of reading books, drinking lattes, and soaking in hot bubble baths. I’m not going to even answer my phone. To anyone.”

Except maybe prospective employers who will hopefully love the story ideas I pitch to them.

“Not even to me?”

Jenna’s plaintive wail made Saffron cringe. “Of course I’ll answer to you, sweet pea. You know I love you, even if you did decide to renew your vows on New Year’s Eve and ruin my chances of starting the year right by getting laid.”

“It’s the perfect time, new beginnings and all that crap. Besides, I’m sure you can find someone at the wedding to help you ring in the New Year with a bang.”

They both laughed and then Saffron checked the time. It was now after eleven o’clock. Way too late to call Ms. Steele and tell her of her failure. She’d give the publisher a call first thing in the morning, and at that point, she’d have to return the ten grand the publisher already fronted her to pay for the services at Fingertip Fantasies.

“I’ve gotta go, sweets. I need to get this dress off before I sweat in it. Needs to be all nice and shiny for your wedding.”

“Holden and I thank you very much. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do. Love you.” Saffron clicked off after Jenna repeated the words, and removed the earpiece. She tossed it on the bedside table then took another look in the mirror. She really did look very hot in all this satin. Too bad the only time she would use it was New Year’s, where her escort would be Holden’s already-married brother.

“Life’s not fair sometimes.” She thought about the vanishing five grand again before sighing heavily. Getting paid to be a submissive would have been interesting. She’d always been fascinated with the idea, but too frightened to open herself up to a local club in Seattle.

This way, she would have gone in with people she knew she wouldn’t run into at the local coffee shop. But that wouldn’t happen now, would it? Poor pitiful me.

“Stop the pity party,” she said, turning from the mirror. Her suitcase, packed for two weeks at Fingertip Fantasies, was near the front door. No time like the present to unpack. She’d pour herself a glass of wine and contemplate her soon-to-be-empty bank account.

Worse than that, though, she’d ponder the fact she wouldn’t be able to explore the world of BDSM as she’d wanted to. One of the reasons she hadn’t told Jenna about the complete experience was because her friend was a bit of a prude.

Nobody could ever accuse Saffron of being skittish about sex. She enjoyed trying new things and doing it with different partners. Sex fascinated her, and she was ready to try something different.

She’d done bondage before, but always with a boyfriend she’d been involved with for a while. Being tied to a bed always brought about incredible orgasms. But bondage wasn’t something that was exclusive to the BDSM community. It was a kink that lots of people enjoyed.

It would have been interesting to see what the next two weeks had in store for her.

She was halfway across living room when a knock sounded at the door. Her heart leapt into her throat and she gasped. Two seconds later, a second knock filled the room. She stared at the entrance as if it would open and a monster would step inside. Who would knock on her door so late?

“Miss Tyler. Open the door, please.”

The clipped British accent deepened her confusion. She knew that voice, but from where? She’d heard it just recently at…her Fingertip Fantasies interview. The realization slapped her in the chest and she took a step backward. It couldn’t be them. Not this late.

“Miss Tyler, I won’t ask again.”

Saffron hurried across the floor, turning the bolt quickly. She cracked the door and peered outside, hoping he didn’t notice her shaking hand as she clasped the frame.

“Mr. Straith.” She opened the door a little wider. “I thought you’d rejected me.”

He lifted one eyebrow and her breath caught in her throat. He really was a handsome man, tall and lean with light brown hair and green eyes. The stern look on his face, both during the interview and right now, made her think of the headmaster of an English boarding school. During the interview, she’d fantasized about him bending her over the desk and spanking her, sort of a test to see if she would allow it to happen. Unfortunately, that fantasy hadn’t come true.

“You will accompany me now.”

“Right now? I need to change and get my bag and—”

“Everything you need will be provided for you at the facility.” He inclined his head slightly as if he were addressing a wayward student. “You will leave your bag.”

Leave her bag? What the hell? “Why did you have me pack it, then?”

“To see how well you follow directions.”

She bristled at his statement. Asking her to pack a bag and be ready for them had been nothing more than their first act of dominance over her. Not exactly something she’d thought would count as power for a sexual fantasy.

“But my dress…” She held out the overskirt, unsure how to end her statement.

“Is lovely. A bit much for a Friday evening at home, but lovely just the same. Please get your keys and identification and let us be off. We have a schedule to keep.” He took a step back and waited.