Slick as Ides Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  More Works

  Author Bio

  SLICK AS IDES

  Chanse Lowell

  Mayhem Erotica Publishing

  Copyright © September 2013 by Chanse Lowell

  All rights reserved.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CONTENT WARNING — This story contains scenes of an explicit, erotic nature and is intended for adults, 18+. Story includes bondage, dirty talk with crude language, dubious consent, and graphic consensual sex. Characters portrayed are 18 or older and of a sound mind.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are created solely from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, locations and businesses, along with events, are entirely coincidental.

  Published by Mayhem Erotica Publishing

  Cover illustration by Mayhem Cover Creations © 2013

  Acknowledgments

  Edited by: K.I. Lynn , Lynda Kimpel

  Prereaders: Angela Bohr, Clair Doyle, Tricia Lockwood-Smith, Monica Solis

  Chapter 1

  Ides

  “Are you there yet?” I ask Riot.

  His breath scrapes across his phone as he runs, making me cringe away from the awful noise.

  “Almost.” There’s a sound like he’s tripping on something. “Why did this moron have to change the location at the last minute? They know L.A. traffic is brutal.”

  I laugh. “They all do this—make us jump through hoops. You know this.”

  He huffs. “Yeah, I do, and I also know you were supposed to join me this time. You promised, Ides.”

  I wipe my face with my shaking hands. “I know, and I’ll be ready next time. I swear I’ll make a personal appearance.”

  “This one’s really important. They’re paying double—more than any fee you’ve ever collected for a personal venture before.”

  “I know.” I groan and roll my neck. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.” I rub my hands on my sleeves. Great. It’s dirty. Now I’ll have to wash this hoodie.

  “Are you going to listen in and watch this one? I can set it up no problem.” He pauses—everything goes silent.

  Is he lost?

  There’s movement again a moment later, and I sigh in relief.

  “Not necessary. I trust you.” I stare at my sleeve, trying to ignore the fact I was stupid and got it dirty.

  “No you don’t.” He chuckles. “You always say that, but I know you find a way to monitor all business transactions whether I’m aware of how you’re doing it or not.”

  “How else do you think I test out my gadgets?” I grin, staring at my desk now instead of the soiled fabric I’m wearing. “Sorry if it bothers you. I’ll try to tell you directly after. How’s that?”

  “Fucked up as usual, but I’ll take it.” He huffs and a door opens. “Almost there. Are you going to get your supplies after this meeting?”

  “Yes, Riot. I am going to get them myself. I’ve at least worked up to that point.” I reach for my homemade sanitizer and barely squeak out a drop so I don’t use too much. It’s getting low—unbearably so.

  “You sure you’re ready for that? You sound like you’re hyperventilating,” he says.

  I wheeze and rub the concoction into my hands thoroughly, then inhale deeply. “I’m fine.”

  “Just wait. I’ll get you what you need after this meeting. It shouldn’t take long. They only want to go over the specs,” he says, sounding a little on edge.

  “No, no. Take it easy. Let me know what they want afterward, and then go home. Enjoy yourself for once, instead of worrying about me.” I close my eyes and ignore the tightness in my temples and my long hair falling forward over my shoulders.

  “I love worrying about you, and don’t you dare say it’s because my job requires me to. I do it because I care about you.”

  I squirm in my seat, and my gut tightens, but not in a good way. Guilt dots my back with sweat.

  “Riot . . .” I warn. “Don’t go there. We aren’t having this conversation. It’s not gonna happen.”

  “I know.” He exhales in a burst. “Hire someone then, will ya? You need a personal assistant if you’re not gonna let me get you what you need anymore.” He goes silent for a moment.

  “I don’t need an assistant. They can’t be trusted, but you’re my clos—”

  “Hey, gotta go. He’s staring at me.”

  The call ends, and I flip on my newest invention. Riot Gear, I’ve dubbed it.

  I’ve got his watch tagged. He doesn’t know it of course.

  “You are entirely too predictable, my friend.” He always wears that old good luck watch when he goes to business meetings for me, and he continually clasps his hands and sets them on the table so I can see the person on his right.

  Yeah, because you gave it to him the first Christmas you hired him—that’s why he wears the damn thing.

  Another round of sweat inducing guilt hits me. I swallow and lean forward to get a better look on my monitor at the guy doing business with us today.

  “Mr. Thayer, you’re late,” the man says, his jaw tight.

  The slight man in a gray suit, stays seated, doesn’t offer to shake hands and sets his cool dark eyes on Riot.

  “Sorry, but the parking lot was a mess. They’re doing construction out there,” Riot responds.

  “No excuses, please. It’s a waste of time. Let’s get started,” the man says.

  “By all means, Mr. Harden.”

  Harden pulls out some paperwork and sets it on the table.

  “This is not what we agreed to.” Riot’s voice is tense. “I can’t sign off on this, and I think you know why.”

  “What’s the problem? Just a few minor tweaks.” Harden grins.

  “Yes, a few very illegal tweaks. I’m sorry”—Riot stands up—“but we’ll have to decline. You’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

  “But the prototype is already complete, yes?” Harden scratches his chin and smirks. “What will you do with something built specifically for my client? No one else is going to want this contraption.”

  “They sure as hell will.” Riot takes a step back, and the chair scrapes on the floor when he moves it. “We have so many clients dying for any invention Ides comes up with, we never lack for buyers.”

  “C’mon, cross your arms over your chest or something,” I tell my monitor. I can’t see a damn thing anymore. Riot’s hands must be in his pockets.

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear you lack vision. My employer is willing to double what we’ve already offered you.”

  “A
million?” Riot’s voice cracks.

  “Pfft! He’s lying,” I say, then grab my phone to dial him up.

  “No. Ides doesn’t sell out.” Riot’s footfalls are heavy.

  Is he leaving? Good.

  I set the phone down.

  “Mr. Thayer?”

  “Yeah?” There’s a shift of movement, and then the camera feed is back on again.

  Riot shakes hands with him.

  “Perhaps you can arrange a personal meeting for this Ides with me so I can amend what they’re unwilling to work with on this,” Harden says. His teeth clack at the end, and it almost looks like he’s sneering.

  “I doubt they’d be willing to do that.” Riot heads to the door.

  “Set it up. I’ll make it worth their while. And of course, you’re welcome to tag along, since I’m sure you want to make sure it’s all legal and follows the company’s parameters.”

  Harden waltzes up to him and hands him a business card.

  “I already have your information.” Riot takes it anyway.

  “Yes, but this isn’t my information. It’s my boss’s. Call the number on the back, and he’ll let you know how to proceed from here.” Harden nods and moves past Riot, exiting the room.

  “Shit,” Riot says under his breath when he’s alone. “I know you heard that, Ides. Call me now!”

  I pick up the phone and dial him up.

  “You okay?” I ask the second he accepts the call.

  “You can’t do this one. Walk away. We don’t need this asshole and his millions.” Riot kicks something, and I chuckle. “Turn your damn camera off. I’m not kidding.”

  “Okay, okay. Just calm down. Come on over, and we’ll go over his proposal. We can figure this out.”

  “No! Dammit, Dena. Jesus Christ—can’t you feel how dangerous this is? That man”—he exhales in a rush—“he’s out to get you. I can tell he’s up to something. It’s a trap. That’s why he wants to meet you.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t just say my actual name when he barely left, isn’t it?” I sit back in my chair, my chest tight. “Get over here, and don’t even think about pretending to lose the document or the business card he gave you. This could really save my ass. You know I need this money. No more worrying.”

  “Bullshit.” He pushes the door open, and it makes a whooshing sound.

  I finally turn the camera off.

  “It’s not bullshit. You know I can’t use my own funds. Conflict of interest. But the company needs th—”

  “All right!” he nearly shouts. “Stop lecturing me. I’m getting inside my car, and I’ll meet you soon. You have to drop it off at the point they’ve specified in a week. That’s what they’re instructing if you want full payment.”

  “Thank you. I love ya, and don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me, because you know I don’t mean it like that,” I clarify.

  “Yeah, I know.” He grumbles something unintelligible, then hangs up.

  I pull up the plans and already start making adjustments. I think I know where the client’s head is at, and for some reason, I really like this challenge.

  * * *

  Riot listens to all of my big talk about how we can make this work. He keeps running his hands over his cropped, blond hair and blinking his dark brown eyes at me like I’m insane and have lost a few microchips.

  He watches me, appearing aloof, as I remove the Riot Gear from his watch.

  “I still don’t like it.” He grimaces and points at the problem area on the specs as soon as I’m done with my task.

  I hand his watch back to him, and he pockets it instead of putting it back on.

  He brushes the business card aside in the next breath so he can point at the plans again without it getting in the way.

  “I know, but you don’t have to like it. You only have to defend it if they try to screw us on this. I can’t get sued over this.” I hand him a soda.

  He shakes his hand.

  “Still trying to lose weight.” He stares at it with longing, though, and then he pats his flat belly. He’s still trying his damnedest to form what used to be flab, into six-pack abs.

  I push the can out of sight so I’m not tempting him. “Oh, sorry. I guess I forgot.” I fight off a grin.

  “You did not. You suck at lying. This is your way of saying sorry for stressing me out,” he says, smiling back, but clearly trying to look mad.

  “And you suck at being angry with me.”

  “That’s because for some piss-ass reason I think you know what you’re doing.” He pouts over the specs, his eyes roving over it once more.

  “It’s all sound. This will work, and it’s not that you think I know what I’m doing. It’s because I’m your friend, and you’re mine. We need each other.”

  Out of nowhere, his hands reach out, and he hugs me.

  I bite back the scream, building in my throat and manage to shrug out of his hold. “All right now, let’s not get carried away. Cooties and all that, you know.”

  He laughs. “Did you get your supplies ordered online?”

  “No. I told you already—I’m going to get them myself. I’ll walk into a store and—”

  He pushes off the desk, stands up and waves. “Good luck with that. Call me when you’re stuck in the doorway. I’ll come with a gallon of bleach and some gloves.”

  “Shut up. I’m not that bad.”

  “Psssht!” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow?”

  “Nope. I’ll be fine. Don’t need you. Have fun. Go on a date.” I eye him and smile.

  “That will happen when you’re able to go fill up your car with gas on your own.”

  I flip him off, pursing my lips, my brows scrunched together while pretending to glare, and he leaves, chuckling.

  I listen to him lock up and then go over the paperwork once more.

  It’s not exactly what they asked for, but it’s better, so they can’t complain.

  It’ll do what they want it to.

  Guilt surrounds my throat and closes it off.

  What if they . . .

  What if this is going to be used on people?

  I blink and shove the paperwork aside.

  No one’s that despicable.

  I get up, put my second hoodie for the day into the washing machine and set it to soak on a timer with extra detergent.

  Riot touched me.

  Why? Why would he take that chance?

  “I should fire his ass for that,” I mumble as I close the lid on the washing machine.

  I wander back to my desk, and the minute I log into my favorite chat group, I see that name “Vapor,” and I’m tingling and breathless right away.

  God, he’s so hot with the shit he gets up to. He knows exactly what to do to get me going.

  Vapor: You there, Ides?

  The monitor blinks at me with his private message just for me.

  “Yeah, I am, you slimy bastard.” I grin and type out a different reply though. Ides: What’s up? Invent anything today?

  Vapor: Yep. Invented a way into your wet panties. Wanna come over and check it out, make sure it works correctly?

  I bark a deep, biting laugh. “Uh, no. Not happening.” Ides: Sure. I’ll be right over . . .

  Vapor: See, I knew you liked me.

  Ides: Like is not an issue. It’s an issue of trust.

  Vapor: You can trust me. Have I done anything to warrant anything else?

  Ides: Yeah, you have.

  Vapor: Such as?

  Ides: You seem to know too much about me. How is that possible? No one knows who I am.

  Vapor: Did my research, sweetheart. You’re all over the web, whether you know it or not. I know your signature when I see it, woman.

  Ides: Right there—the fact you even know my gender is disconcerting.

  Vapor: I’ve been tracking you down for months now. Do you know how hard it was to get into this elite hacker chat group? I swear they patted down my balls and made me turn my h
ead and cough before they’d even let me in. Do they think I’ll hunt you down?

  Ides: Would you? I swallow, and my pussy throbs. God, I wish he would.

  Vapor: For you? I might. I want you, and I think you know I touch myself while I fantasize about you. Can’t you tell I’m doing it right now?

  “Pervert,” I whisper and grin wider.

  Vapor: I’ve got a fucking hard-on about a mile long for you. I swear I practically squirt on my screen each time I chat with you. Want me to film it next time and send it to you? All I’ll need is your email address, hon.

  Ides: Nice try. I’m not on here to get hit on or for free porn.

  Vapor: Then why are you on here? It’s obvious you like me, or you wouldn’t keep replying when I IM your hot ass. There’s no one like you, and someday I’ll convince you to meet with me. You’ll have a great time, I promise. Oh, and so will your computer. I expect you to film me with your laptop when I’ve got your nipples in between my teeth.

  “Uh, okay.” My nipples tighten even though the room is its standard seventy-eight degrees. And what the hell is my stomach doing? It feels like some kind of merengue to a shitty Dirty Dancing theme song. Ides: What am I supposed to say to this?

  Vapor: Any fucking thing you wish. But what I’d really like to hear is you cream yourself thinking about me, too. C’mon, Ides, give it up. At least tell me I turn you on. I’m dying over here.

  Ides: Okay, fine. I get a little keyed up over you.

  Vapor: How long does it take? Am I breaking records, or what?

  Ides: You already know my boyfriend broke up with me two months ago and what a mess that was. Only one other guy has ever really done it for me, and he’s long gone. Haven’t seen him since I was a teen, so, yes, I guess you’re breaking records for me. But that’s nothing to brag about. I don’t have a social life to speak of.

  Vapor: Really? Why? You’re so fucking smart and hot, you could have any guy you want.

  My cheeks heat, and my chest flames with a stirring emotion I can’t and won’t name. Ides: You asked why I’m on here? This is the one place I’m not a freak. I can be me, and the people here get me, especially you. Or so I thought.