His Sub by Ellis O. Day

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 11:  Maggie

 

 

 

“No, no. Don’t do this. Hang on. You can make it. Only another few yards.” Maggie wanted to cry or scream at the heavens. Her car could not die now. She was almost out of the parking lot of La Petite Mort Club. She stepped harder on the gas, causing the car to jump forward and shake. Please, that can’t be its death rattle. Not now. Not here. Why were these things happening to her? She was a good person. She went to church, took care of her kids and was kind to everyone she met. She hit the steering wheel and pushed the gas pedal down all the way. “Get me home or down the street. Die anywhere but here.”

As the car continued jerking through the parking lot, she kept bargaining with it. “If you make it around the corner, I’ll take you to a car wash. I swear.” She could not have her car die in the parking lot of the sex club. It’d be too embarrassing, especially if Terry saw her. The car shook, sputtering its last gasp. She dropped her head onto the steering wheel. This was what she got for taking the devil a container of cookies.

She stepped out of her car and looked at the building. No one was around. Maybe, she’d gotten lucky. She reached into her car and grabbed her phone as a black Mercedes pulled out of the garage. She knew that car. She’d ridden in that car.

That was not a spark of pleasure in her heart—or actually lower, much lower. She did not, could not be around that man any more or she’d do whatever he wanted. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She’d send him along like she’d done earlier…when he’d had his hand on her breast. The tiny spark of desire was now a steady flame, throbbing between her legs. She had to get out of there or at least, have someone coming before he stopped. She turned on her phone, searching for the number for the tow truck.