Free Filthy Dirty Laundry (Filthy Dirty Laundry #1) by Kailin Gow Page A

barely
covers all my bits. I have no idea how Kiley, who is even curvier than I am,
manages it without flashing it.
              “This is my sex dress,”
says Kiley. “I have never not gotten laid wearing that dress.”
              “Ew!”
              “I mean, I take it off,
first!” Kiley giggles. “Usually.”
              “Gross, Kiley!”
              “Stop being a prude, Sid.
It's dry cleaned. And you can borrow some shoes, too.” She pulls out what can
only be described as “stripper heels.”
              “I can't walk in those!”
              “You don't have to do
much walking. Just lean against the bar and let hot guys buy you drinks.”
              Just what I need right
now , I think. More
men bothering me for sex.
              “Okay,” I say. “I think I'm ready
to go now.”
              “Please,” Kiley rolls
her eyes. “We haven't even started on the makeup...”
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 10
     
     
     
              Kiley starts to put the
makeup on me. It feels strange, somehow. Surreal. Like the body she's touching
isn't mine at all, like it doesn't even so much as belong to me. My flesh feels
like a stranger's. How strange it is, I think. That I am trying to become
someone I'm not – for him. Kiley puts my face in her hands, tracing my
cheeks with her fingertips. She closes my eyes and smears sparkly glitter
eyeshadow on the lids, a darker color for the creases. She highlights with a
pale sky blue. I never wear makeup, and the feeling of the slick smooth powder
on my skin is uncanny. Like I'm covering myself up. Like I'm hiding beneath
this dark chocolate-colored eyeliner and the waves of blue mascara with glitter
that Kiley is applying on my lashes. A safe mask, I think. Something that hides
who I really am. Who makes me into....I don't know? Someone else? The girl that
Philip LaFleur wants to humiliate, wants to degrade, wants to fuck?
              What does Philip LaFleur want
anyway? I wish I knew. When I first met him he was kind to me, jocular. He
seemed to care about me – at least enough to keep checking in on me the whole
time I was in the hospital. But maybe he just felt guilty about hitting me with
his car. Maybe he was just afraid I'd sue him if he didn't take care of me. I
should have sued him, I think. Probably would have given me the money to retire
in comfort. But I didn't. I'd been so bamboozled by his wicked smile and his
piercing blue eyes that I hadn't even thought about anything. I'd been putty in
his hands from the second I met him. I'd let him do anything to me – anything
he wanted. I'd let him assign me that crappy dog food story, hadn't I?
    With Tegan I would have spoken up
– been forceful. Demanded a better assignment. And she would have liked
that about me. Respected my spunk. But with Philip I'd been so submissive. And
the way he made me call him sir...
              I sigh. Is he getting
off on this, I wonder? This hot and cold, controlling behavior? Making me come
to his place after hours. Insisting that I wear something “seductive?” Part of
me is angry. How dare he do this to me! How dare he put me in this position of
risking my whole career...just on his whim. Because I know that no
matter what happens tonight, he is going to walk away scott-free. No
consequences. No nothing. Philip LaFleur isn't going to be the slightest bit
affected by whatever happens between us. He'll put another notch onto his
bedpost, and then file me away in his category of half-pleasant memories. Stuff
he'll fantasize about when he's old and decrepit and can't get it up for young
girls anymore. The girls he used to be able to get into bed with just a look,
just a word, just a command. I feel angry. My cheeks flush; they burn.
              “What is it, honey?”
Kiley looks down at me, her face a mask of concern. “What's wrong?”