Up to Her Old Tricks

The man's erection was wilting, and panic was starting to set in around his eyes. He mumbled behind the gag. It was unintelligible, but it was probably something like help or I don't like this. Let me go, that was another one. This is a bit too weird for me, love. Are you listening? I said let me go, you bitch!

Nona tore at the lining of her handbag, her fingers turned to claws in her own panic.

No. Oh, no, no, no, no, no!

A stream of shrill swear words poured out of her.

She turned on the ridiculous spiked heel and stalked over to him.

"Oh, shut up," she said, fishing the key from the equally ridiculous lacy bra and freeing his wrists.

The man lurched to his feet, his unmentionables swinging in a most undignified way, and scrabbled at the gag.

"What are you-" he paused to swipe some drool from his chin, "What do you think you're playing at?" he raged.

"Just go," she flapped a hand in the direction of his discarded suit. "I'm not in the mood anymore."

He blustered, and then raged some more. Called her a prick-tease, all of it. Nona ignored him, pulled down the complementary robe hanging on the door. It was fluffy and white.

Eventually he banged out of the hotel room, which felt bare and small in his absence. It smelled faintly of his aftershave.

She could have smoothed things over. Lied. I realised my grandma's ring was missing and I got upset, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me.

...but she couldn't. Not while anger and bile course through her. Where was it? When had it gone? Her brain fizzed with possibilities.

Of course, the other thing was: what would be the point? Without it. Without the implant. Without Jac.

She'd missed him. All this time, while he was tucked away, hidden in that crappy little pendant. She hadn't dared to speak with him, felt sure he needed to stay hidden. And... OK, she'd been a little bit scared as well. The last attempt hadn't gone too well, had it? The vessel had resisted, got confused. That was the problem. She should have known, after Lorin and Doug... That had been the same, hadn't it? A rush job. You have to take time with these things. Time and care.

It had been a comfort, knowing - well, thinking - that he was stitched up snug and secret in her handbag lining. Right under her hand, often. Safe. It hadn't stopped her missing him. Oh, she'd missed him and missed him and missed him. But she'd thought he was right there all this time. She'd patted her bag, as if it were an anxious pet. As if he could feel it. Now that she knew he wasn't there, it was so much worse. Wasn't there and hadn't been for who knew how long.

Once she found it - found him - she'd find another meatsuit for him. Which one didn't matter, after all. The right age, in reasonable health. Not repulsive to look at. Mentally stable. There were several that might fit the bill.

The hotel room was empty, and Nona was alone. Again.

+

As always, thank you for reading

If you'd like to read some other stories in this series, you can find (almost) all of them here:

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