Scarlet Disaster by Colette Rhodes
Chapter 5
Well, my day had gotten a lot more interesting than expected.
Pervy EJ and Sexy Gabriel finished loading the paint and supplies I’d chosen into the trunk of my old Yukon while I stood on the sidewalk and supervised, so thoroughly bundled up in my winter layers that only my eyes were visible.
Eyes that I was struggling to take off Gabriel, which was a bit inconvenient since I was planning on making a move on Nate tonight. My tattoo had stopped hurting, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse, and I had mentally prepared myself to get back into Scarlet Mode after taking a long break from her. Not just a few social media pics. Proper Scarlet Mode.
I’d messaged Nate this morning after yoga and a chia seed bowl, requesting that he video call me at 8pm, which he’d reluctantly agreed to, then decided to head to the hardware store so I didn’t spend the entire day at home obsessing about it.
I had not expected a little flirtation with one of the hottest guys I’d ever seen.
Gabriel had a tan that gave me serious envy, dark curly hair, a square jawline covered in dark stubble, and exquisite eyes. They were a unique shade of dark, cloudy gray and so incredibly kind that I could have gotten lost in them. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone who was so intimidatingly attractive and yet obviously gentle all at once.
Nate was gorgeous, obviously, but in a kind of bad boy, emotionally unavailable way. Gabriel’s slate gray cable knit sweater was definitely made of boyfriend material, and that made him a lot more dangerous.
I couldn’t believe I’d given him my number. He’d suggested dinner. Dinner! Was that code for casual sex? It had been a while since I’d dated, but dinner seemed more like a get-to-know-each-other activity than a rip-your-clothes-off activity. Hopefully Gabriel hadn’t got any girlfriendy ideas just because he’d helped me deter the overly persistent EJ.
Why had I given him my number? Oh my god. I flirted one time and turned into a shameless hussy, giving my number out to any good looking guy who looked my way.
Relax, Lou. It’s not like I had to have dinner with him. I hadn’t made any promises. Operation Seduction was still in full effect.
EJ stormed back inside the store the moment my vehicle was loaded up, sulking like a toddler who didn’t get his way, and I rolled my eyes at his back as he disappeared into the store. I hadn’t seen him since my divorce, and I could have sworn my stomach dropped all the way onto the cement floor when I realized he was the only one working there. He’d been good friends with my ex-husband, and honestly, I’d expected some sort of hostility—bro code and all—but apparently EJ’s creepiness outweighed any loyalty he had to Jake.
Ugh.I couldn’t believe he’d asked me for a hug. Or asked my tits for a hug rather, since he’d apparently forgotten where my face was even though I was wearing all my enormous winter layers and looked like a marshmallow. I already regretted not slapping him in the face, but I’d had my hand shoved in my purse, clasping my pepper spray. Just in case.
“Thank you for your help,” I told Sexy Gabriel as he sidled up next to me, all warm smiles and gray eyes I could drown in. So fucking pretty.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Gabriel said with a dismissive shrug, shooting an irritated glare at the door EJ had just gone through. I appreciated how affronted he was on my behalf by EJ’s… flirting? It was possibly meant to be flirting.
“Aren’t you freezing?” I asked, brushing at the sleeve of his woolen jumper with my gloved hand.
“A little,” he shrugged. “I run hot, but this weather is uncomfortable even for me.”
“Um, yeah,” I replied like it was obvious, hoping he could see my judgy eyebrows because the rest of my face was covered. “It’s like three degrees. You’d better get inside before you get frostbite.”
He smiled again, all slow and languid, apparently not as worried as I was about him losing his toes. Those eyes. I did not know I could get hot for eyes, but my lower extremities were a-fluttering. Or maybe eyes were my thing, and it had just been awhile since I’d gotten to appreciate the impact of real-life eye contact. The kind so intense, you wondered who’d break it first or whether you could just hang in that moment forever without it being awkward.
His eyes were almost striking enough for me not to notice how freaking tall he was, or that he was stacked with muscles under that fitted cable knit sweater. Almost.
“Right you are, querida. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
I didn’t know if it was the accent or just his voice, but his words were almost a purr. My belly dipped traitorously as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. Apparently my body didn’t care that I had a scheduled flirtation booked for later today.
“Nice to meet you too,” I managed to get out, not a drop of my Scarlet confidence in sight.
“I’ll be in touch,” Gabriel added, patting his phone in his pocket before strolling down the snow-covered sidewalk in his ridiculously impractical sneakers.
I shook my head slightly to clear it, half wondering if I’d daydreamed that whole interaction. Life was a lot less complicated when I didn’t leave my basement.
I attempted to concentrate on the snowy road while I made the short drive back to my house rather than the two pretty guys that had captured my attention recently. There must have been something in the water in Fairbanks then or something. Then again, the mountain men that lived outside of town were attractive as hell too, just super reclusive and insular. There was a whole community out there, but their kids didn’t even come into town for school. It was kind of weird.
Ria’s boyfriends were like that. They occasionally came into town to sell their wares, but I’d never come across them until she somehow ended up in a relationship with all three of them. They also had that kind of animal magnetismthat Nate and Gabriel had in spades.
Maybe it was all the fresh air out there in the woods?
My phone buzzed, and I stupidly wondered if it was Gabriel messaging me already, even though he was probably still driving back to wherever it was he was staying.
Hopefully he’d leave me a voice message so I could hear him speak again in that sexy South American accent. Just the thought of that in my ear whispering filthy things while I panted underneath him made my belly flip.
I bet he’d look me in the eye the entire time. He was clearly a confident guy and he’d looked at me with the unwavering calm of a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted out of life.
Even sexy AF Nate didn’t look like that. He had a lingering uncertainty about him that he wasn’t quite able to hide. I was no psychologist, but I’d encountered plenty of people in my line of work who didn’t feel comfortable in their own skin. It was why a lot of them had sought me out—my confidence turned them on, even if it was all an act.
Get your head in the game. No more Gabriel. You are supposed to be seducing Nate tonight.
Though if Operation Seduction didn’t work out with Mr. You-Can’t-Handle-Me… it was always good to have options. Gabriel may end up being Operation Redeem Myself After The Failed Seduction.
Why not Operation Seduction Part Two?The Scarlet-shaped devil on my shoulder asked. It wasn’t like I was going to date either of them, I was leaving town in a couple of months anyway. Sleeping with them both wouldn’t be that weird, so long as I was upfront about it being a casual thing, right? I would just have to give myself a stern talk about not getting attached, because Gabriel was a guy I could easily see myself getting attached to.
God, I was so out of my depth here. In my entire life, I’d only had real life sex with my husband—who I’d lost my virginity to in the cab of his pickup truck in senior year—and Frank the Liar. I mean, zero regrets, I knew how to get myself off and I didn’t need a man, but now I was feeling a little lost on the politics of dating and/or casual sex.
Correction, one regret. Frank the Liar was a definite regret.
I parked my Yukon in the garage, grabbing my phone from the center console to check my messages.
Not a sexy message from Gabriel.
My eyes widened as I looked at the deposit that had just come through. $10,000. Crap on a cracker, that was a lot of zeroes for zero work.
‘A monthly allowance, if you move to New York.’
I mean, I’d been telling myself I couldn’t be bought, but that was a lot of money. I was torn between disgust that Frank thought this would actually work, and disgust at myself for feeling even a little bit tempted by his offer. While I’d earned a lot from camming, being Frank’s on-call whatever was surely a lot less work than constantly creating new content and doing shows.
No. Bad Lou. Eyes on the horizon. You don’t need this shit in your life.
I’d been letting Frank’s smaller payments pile up in my account because fuck it, if he was going to send me guilt money, that was his problem. But I didn’t want to keep this one. I didn’t want to accept anything else from him now. It felt too much like I was agreeing to something I didn’t want to agree to.
Frank hadn’t even wanted me until after I was gone. He didn’t want me, period. He wanted a pet.
I quickly sent the funds back and shoved my phone away, turning my attention to bringing the cans of paint to the living room so they wouldn’t freeze, and sweating slightly from exertion by the end of it.
I managed to push all the furniture away from the walls into the center of the room and covered it all with a drop cloth before flopping down on the couch to recover, pulling out my phone automatically.
Perhaps a day would come where I didn’t feel like I was missing a limb whenever my phone wasn’t in my hand, but today was not that day.
My most recent photo was from this morning. I’d reluctantly pulled on my skimpiest red bikini and taken a bunch of quick pics because even with the heating on, it was not bikini weather. It had been sent to me by a smaller brand, and I only made money when people purchased via my affiliate links, so winter or not, I had to hustle.
I scrolled mindlessly through the comments, blocking a few people because there were always a few mouthy assholes in my comment section who made my skin crawl, but most people were nice. There were lots of fire emojis because I was fire. In the heavily curated photos I posted at least.
@ComputerWombat:
Why don’t you do shows anymore? No one gives a fuck about this ad shit you’re doing.
A bunch of people had liked it, and even though there were supportive replies saying I had a right to move on and pursue new things, the complaint stuck in my mind.
I was bound to lose followers while I transitioned from less sex-specific content to more sex-positive empowering content, with a dash of travel pics and behind-the-scenes snaps sprinkled in, but what if I lost so many that this whole idea wasn’t even worth pursuing?
I wanted to banish that little insecure voice in the back of my head down to the depths of hell where it belonged, but I hadn’t quite managed it yet. The little voice that piped up at the most opportune moments to question if Lou was worth knowing, or if I should change my name to Scarlet, bleach my hair, and roleplay my own life.
Suddenly not liking the device in my hand very much, I locked my phone and tossed to the end of the couch, staring at the cans of paint on the floor and drop cloths throughout the room. If anything, seeing the place like this made the job feel even more daunting, but I was determined I could do it. I was prepared.
I’d watched about eighty hours of home decorating shows over the past week when my healing ink had bothered me, and came to the conclusion that maybe I couldn’t go full Chip-and-Joanna on my kitchen, but painting the main rooms this week and possibly adding a backsplash in the kitchen were probably manageable.
Then I’d add some new lights to make the place look fancier, chuck in some houseplants to make it all look pretty for the listing, call the realtor, pray to the Property Brothers gods that it sold for above the asking price within twenty-four hours, then book a flight out of here.
On Pinterest, painting a room seemed so simple. Buy off-white paint, wear cute overalls, bop along to a great playlist while I got the job done. In reality, once I’d gotten into the hardware store, there were at least forty shades of off-white paint, all available in different finishes, and because I’d decided to do it in winter, I had a whole bunch of weather considerations to take into account as well so I didn’t pass out from all the fumes.
Basically, I needed to spend less time thinking about internet trolls and juggling dicks, and more time thinking about proper ventilation.
Until eight o’clock tonight, anyway.
At eight o’clock tonight, all bets were off.
* * *
I sat at the vanity in my bedroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror like I was looking at a completely different person. I sort of was. Scarlet wasn’t Lou. It was more than just wearing a wig, contacts, makeup, and losing the brightly-colored yoga pants that made up my regular wardrobe. Scarlet was a state of mind for me. That was where I’d gone wrong with Nate, I’d decided after mulling over our last interaction roughly a million times over the past week.
In the beginning, I’d flirted with Nate as Lou, just like I had with Gabriel this morning. Lou was coy. Lou liked to bat her eyelashes and be pursued, from memory. I’d liked that when Jake had done it at least, but that was back in high school. He’d stuck notes in my locker until I’d agreed to go to Sonic with him on a Friday night and we’d split a chocolate shake and some tots.
Scarlet, for the most part, was sexually confident, overtly seductive, and totally in control.
Scarlet had any man or woman she wanted wrapped around her finger. She read their desires and molded herself into whatever they wanted her to be.
Everyone wanted a piece of Scarlet.
Obviously, plain old Lou didn’t hold the same appeal, that much had become clear from my interactions with Nate. Maybe I didn’t need the wig, but if I’d channeled some of that brazen confidence, he wouldn’t have been all ‘oh, but you’re so sweet, I couldn’t possibly fuck you!’
I’d show him just how not sweet I could be. I had a point to prove. I’d get out the dragon dildo if I had to.
I dressed in a simple dark silver slip, the cool silver sliding easily over the itchy as fuck tattoo that I’d already doused in lotion, and forewent the bra and panties.
The tattoo looked… not great, but I had done a lot of Googling and apparently it was normal for my skin to be shedding like a goddamn snake. It wasn’t the sexiest accessory, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for Nate since he was the one who’d put it there in the first place.
I pulled the matching robe over the top of my slip, put in my unnaturally aqua blue contact lenses, and took extra care with my smoky eye and red lips. The lipstick kind of clashed with my natural hair, but it matched my champagne-colored wig perfectly.
Sultry, old Hollywood glam, that was Scarlet’s look. It was over the top and unattainable, which had been a big part of Scarlet’s appeal with viewers. How Scarlet acted depended on who she was talking to.
For a moment, I stared at my reflection in the mirror with Scarlet’s face and my regular red hair. This look almost seemed the most fitting—one foot out the door into the real world, but still wearing my camgirl armor.
It was probably a little ironic that in order to prove to Nate I could handle him, I was putting on an entirely different identity. It did undercut my messaging slightly. Whatever.
Sighing at my own stupidity, I braided my hair into two plaits and wrapped them around the crown of my head, pinning them into place before pulling my wig cap on. The wavy, pale blonde wig was in pride of place on my dresser as always, and I pulled it off the mannequin head, running my fingers gently through it before stretching it over my head.
I fussed with the blunt wispy bangs until I was happy with them, took a few selfies so I could show off the outfit and tag the brand later, then grabbed my laptop off my bed to head down to the basement.
Out of habit, I’d been going down to the cam room in the basement each week, tidying it up and keeping everything in order.
It felt like a drug I had to wean myself off. Camming was what bought me this house, and the basement room was my sexual sanctuary.
I ran my hand over the white fitted sheet on the double bed, and flicked on my three point lighting system that illuminated the bed perfectly on camera. I’d strung fairy lights along the back wall—for ambience, rather than lighting—and turned those on too. There were soft cushions along the headboard, and that combined with the fairy lights made the space feel cozy and romantic.
Well, except for the wooden shelf above the bed, just visible in shot with my collection of sex toys. That was slightly less soft and romantic looking.
I hooked my laptop up and turned it on, ready to take Nate’s call through that so I could use my HD webcam, already in position. I was no amateur—I had the perfect setup to give the perfect show, and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered why I had walked away from this.
Oh yeah, to build a regular life and have real sex outside of the internet. Because that was going so well so far.
A rare rush of nerves sent a shiver down my spine as I fussed with the belt on my robe and fluffed out the ends of my wig again, waiting for the call to come in. Nate oozed untamed sexuality. He was worldly, cool, and well-traveled. He’d probably fucked half of Fairbanks’ most eligible in the few months that he’d been back.
It had been years since I’d doubted my sexual appeal, but I suddenly felt like I was turning the camera on for the first time again, awkwardly pouting at the camera in a cheap lace negligee and costume party wig I’d worn in the beginning. Would he even be interested in this? God, he might laugh in my face.
I’d sell the house as is and leave town tomorrow if that happened.
Get it together. You are Scarlet. Scarlet made thousands of dollars a month doing this for years. Nate is no different from any other guy.
Except that didn’t feel strictly true.
Maybe because I’d actually met him and talked to him about myself and my life. I’d listened to him talk about his travels and seen the way those memories made his eyes light up, unlike when he talked about moving home. I couldn’t exactly pretend he was any random stranger when I’d given him my childhood sob story.
Eight pm on the dot, my phone rang.
Okay. Okay, that was a good sign.
I mean, he’d agreed to call me, but I’d still been worrying he might back out. I guess curiosity got the better of him.
Now he just had to not laugh in my face, and we’d be golden.
The butterflies in my stomach leaped to life as I hit ‘accept’, and Nate’s obscenely handsome face filled the screen. He was sitting forward slightly, white wireless earbuds in his ears. The room he was in was dimly lit, but I could see his black hair sticking out at messy angles, like he’d been running his fingers through it.
Maybe he was a little nervous too? I imagined him sitting on the end of his bed, watching the clock tick down until eight o’clock, waiting to hit ‘call’, and then got distracted wondering what his room looked like. What his bed looked like. What he looked like on his bed.
Did he sleep naked?
This was an important scientific question that I needed an answer to.
Right. Concentrate.No more thinking about Nate’s naked body rubbing against his sheets.
I had a show to put on.