Free Something's Come Up by Michelle Pace, Andrea Randall

the Mary Magdalene. She was by far the most interesting character in that book.”
    “So you got bounced by Mother Superior?”
    She shrugged as if to say “whatcha ya gonna do?” “I was always on borrowed time at private school. I spent every morning in the office having the length of my skirt measured for appropriateness. The nuns loved me. I was their favorite project.”
    My eyebrow twitched and I traced the length of her inner thigh with my palm. My lips found her collarbone irresistible. I moved in and planted several wet kisses along its length. “You...in a Catholic school girl outfit. I want to see that.”
    Her hand caressed my hair and slid down the back of my neck. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “It’s good to want. It builds character.”
    “Will you do it for me?” I reached between her legs and palmed her warmth between them.
    “What?” She gasped, arching against my palm.
    “Wear the outfit.” My voice sounded like a kid begging for candy. I hated that my need was showing, but it was such a worthy cause.
    She placed her hand over mine and moved it rhythmically. “Hell no.”
    I yanked my hand away immediately and she objected with a choked groan. Dungeons and Dragons.
    “So why’d you get kicked out?” I expected to be proudly regaled with a tale of her social deviance. Instead, I watched a storm gather behind her blue-green eyes. She wasn’t playing now. I knew I’d struck gold and had a shot at finding out something real about her.
    She promptly sat up and retreated to the edge of the bed. Though by now you’d think I’d be used to such swings in temperament, her sudden change in demeanor startled me. “It’s not important.”
    “ Tell me .” People always did what I asked when I used the voice. You know the one, a little lower than necessary, with just enough emotion to draw your eyes to my mouth. Then, compelled, people listened to the words that came from it. And acted. With Red, it was a crapshoot whether it would have the desired effect.
    She said nothing, but remained perched on the side of the bed. I inched toward her and brushed her long hair out of the way to get at her alabaster neck, deciding to try sugar in lieu of vinegar.
    “Come on, Red. I really want to know. Given that blindfold last night, do you really want my imagination to create the story?”
    “Promise you won’t laugh?” The frank vulnerability behind the question made me pause.
    I pulled back from her neck and she locked eyes with me. I raised my eyebrows. “No.”
    She smiled a wry and terrible smile that didn’t reach her eyes and I figured I was going to get a press conference version of events.
    “Touché, Carrington. I was expelled for bullying and sexual harassment. Now you know. There were several other accusations and a laundry list of previous offenses, of course.”
    I pictured her being marched out of some upper class institution in handcuffs dressed like a Japanese anime school girl, and I dissolved in hearty guffaws. To her credit, she calmly waited it out, her expression both amused and conflicted. It was obvious to me that she was ashamed of this fact for some reason that I may never have enough information to understand.
    “Who did you sexually harass, Stephanie Bonnie Mary Magdalene Brier?” I used her full name in an attempt to add the appropriate air of levity to the situation. “Did you feel up some poor priest?”
    “Tell me how you got my email address, and I’ll tell you,” she responded, her rosy lips fixed in a delightful pout.
    I shook my head. “I can’t reveal my sources.”
    All expression vanished from her deceptively angelic face. She was off the bed, stripping my Red Sox shirt off in one fluid motion. “I have to go.”
    I was ready for this and on my feet blocking her exit in mere seconds. “No. No you don’t. Have a simple conversation with me without acting like I’m blowing your cover with the CIA.”
    “For fuck’s sake…” She peeked up