Good Karma (29 page)

“Enchanting. I like that.”

“Me, too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” she said. “Thanks for the
call.”

He smiled as he turned on the faucet. “Good
night, Karma. Sleep well.”

He hung up, set the phone down, cleaned up
for bed, and then brushed his teeth. When he lifted his gaze to his
reflection before shutting off the bathroom light, he was still
smiling.

Now, the evening was complete.

Chapter 23

In order
to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.

-Marquis de Sade

For the next few days, Karma did as Mark told her.
She stood in front of the mirror every morning and every night,
staring at her naked reflection with a new sense of self-respect,
telling herself she was beautiful. She and Mark talked or texted
every night, and she graduated to the next size in her dildo kit.
On Friday, they got together for dinner and what ended up being
another intensely smoldering make-out session that ended with a lot
of groping and forced abstinence on both their parts. At this rate,
Karma wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. It was
becoming clear that she and Mark had incredible chemistry and that
when the time came, he would definitely deliver all he had promised
and then some.

One good thing came from their lusty Friday
night, though. Mark gave her permission to start experimenting with
her purple vibrator. So, after he left, she pulled it out of her
panty drawer. It just made sense to store it near her
underwear.

The vibrator was a little bigger than dildo
number two. The latex wasn’t as friendly to her womanly parts as
the glass, but she finally reached success without too much
discomfort after calling up the fantasy she’d had about Mark behind
her at the mirror. That was all it took for Mr. Vibrator to do his
magic.

And damn! What magic! That little rabbit ear
thing that vibrated over her clitoris? Holy wow! And the way the
shaft rotated and hit her G-spot—yes, she was getting
well-acquainted with the G—nearly blew off her toes. She came so
hard and so fast that it was practically over before it began. So,
she did it again. And then once more just because she wanted
to.

Exhausted and smiling, she fell asleep around
midnight and was still smiling when she popped awake Saturday
morning. She simply could not wipe the smile off her face. She was
walking around in a state of perpetual arousal. What had Mark done
to her? She was turning into a nymphomaniac.

Karma was still smiling as she returned home
from her nine o’clock Pilates class when her phone rang. She set
down her bag and glanced at the ID.

Mark. He had driven back to Chicago this
morning for Mother’s Day weekend.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning. You sound cheerful. Sleep
well?”

“Very well. You?” She practically skipped to
the kitchen.

“Mmm.” He chuckled, but it was the quiet
laugh of naughty things remembered. “Eventually, yes.”

A grin broke over her mouth. “What exactly
are you saying?” She opened the refrigerator.

He laughed again. “Let’s just say I’m very
happy this morning.”

Her hand stopped halfway to the cup of yogurt
she was about to fish from the fridge. “Mark!”

“What? I’m a mature, warm-blooded man.”

More like hot-blooded.

“Did you…? After you left my…?” Complete
sentences seemed in short supply all of a sudden. But why was she
so surprised? Hadn’t she done the same thing? Three times, in
fact?

“Yes I… And yes, after I left your…”

She giggled at the way he mocked her. “Stop
it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m glad you’re amused.” She grabbed her
blueberry Yoplait and shut the fridge.

“I’m glad you amuse me. But, yes, I did take
certain liberties with myself upon returning to my place last
night. Are you really so surprised? We have been getting quite
familiar with one another—and after what we did on the phone
earlier in the week, is it so hard to believe I do that sort of
thing when I’m alone? And, I might add, there was no way I was
going to get any sleep whatsoever if I didn’t relieve some
pressure.”

The man just couldn’t come right out and say
“I masturbated.” He had to make even that simple, seemingly
perverse act sound perfectly normal and justified…and artistic.

“What about you?” he said. “Did you…? After I
left your…?”

What an incorrigible man. But to be mocked by
Mark—so playfully and personally—was very all right. He gave good
mocking. Not like Johnny’s. Her brother’s brand of mocking was
another beast. One that should be shot, killed, and dismembered.
Mark’s mocking should get its ears scratched and a reward. Maybe
she would give it a treat next time she saw him.

She pulled a spoon from her utensil drawer.
“I’m a good student, Mr. Strong.”

“And…?”

She pulled the foil lid off her yogurt.
“And…that means I do as my teacher tells me.” By now, they’d joked
about being teacher and student so much that the nicknames had
become terms of endearment.

“Okay. So…?”

She giggled and took a bite of yogurt. “Let’s
just say you’ve got your work cut out for you. Hank is very good in
bed.” Calling it Mr. Vibrator just felt strange. Giving it a name
was much better.

“Hank?”

She laughed. “That’s what I named him.”

“Good God, why?”

“Because…I don’t know. It’s just easy. And
Mark was already taken.”

They laughed together.

A moment later, Mark continued, “And you’re
calling it a him?”

“Oh yes, after what we did last night, he is
most definitely a he and not an it.”

More laughter. Three weeks ago, she would
never have had this conversation. But despite the fact that she
still got shy enough around Mark in person that she couldn’t
fully
relax, she was getting way more comfortable talking to
him on the phone about subjects that, at one time, would have
gotten stuck in her throat. Something about the fact that he
couldn’t see her face made her bolder, and she said things during
their long-distance conversations and texts she probably would have
choked on in person.

“So, I take it you completed your homework
assignment?”

“Yes. And I went for extra credit, too,” she
said proudly.

“Really now?” He suddenly sounded a bit more
intrigued.

“Mm-hm.” She sucked another portion of yogurt
off her spoon.

“And just how much extra credit did you go
for?”

She tried and failed to hold back a giggle.
“Ummm…”

“Karma?” His voice held a warning, and she
imagined he had one brow arched and a playful smirk on his face.
“Do I have to confiscate Hank?”

She laughed again. “Don’t you dare!”

He sighed. “I’ve created a monster.”

“A more liberated monster,” she
corrected.

“Mmm, I guess I can live with that. But don’t
get too used to…
Hank
.”

“Why’s that?”

“Have I mentioned that I have an ego?”

She bit her bottom lip. “I think you did
mention that once or twice.”

“Okay. Well, I refuse to let a power tool
perform better than I do. So, you have your fun with Hank while you
can, because when I get hold of you, you’ll wonder what you ever
saw in him.”

“Those are mighty strong words, Mr. Strong.
Some would say fightin’ words.”

“Damn straight. I do like a challenge. And
you’ve just given me one.
Another
one.”

“Another one?”

“Yes. Another one.”

“What do you mean?”

He chuffed softly. “My dear Karma, if you
only knew just how upside down you’ve turned my world. You’ve been
nothing but challenges and surprises—pleasant ones, I might
add—since the moment I met you. One long, complex, and unbelievably
irresistible list of challenges and surprises.” He paused. “And I
am absolutely drawn in. Hook, line, and sinker. You have my
attention, Karma. All of it. And I do
not
intend to
disappoint.”

Her spoon hung like an abandoned thought over
her yogurt cup.

After a moment’s silence, Mark said, “You
remember that next time you and Hank spend time together.” She
heard the smile in his voice. He knew he had just blown her mind.
Again. “I’ll let you go. See you Monday, Miss Mason. Enjoy your
weekend.”

Before she could say another word, Mark ended
the call, but not before she heard him chuckle.

Oh, he was bad. So very bad...but so very
good.

Was it Monday, yet?

Chapter 24

I am
trying to find myself. Sometimes that’s not easy.

-Marilyn Monroe

“I am beautiful.”

Dressed in underwear and a T-shirt, Karma
stared at herself in the mirror as she repeated the affirmation,
just as she had yesterday morning before Pilates, and just as she
would tomorrow before work, and the next day, and the next, just as
Mark had told her to do.

She had heard Daniel discuss the concept of
mind over matter before. Of repeating affirmations to change your
mind-set in a karmic practice of putting out good energy to receive
good energy back, but she had never tried it. She didn’t know why,
though. Maybe she had become complacent. People had a way of
becoming complacent and accepting the status quo instead of
searching for ways to change and improve.

Karma didn’t want to be part of the status
quo, anymore. Complacency would no longer do. Not now that she had
met Mark and he had opened a whole new world of possibilities.

If she was being honest, though, the change
had begun before she met Mark, even before she put on that red
dress and envisioned herself inside a fantasy where she could be
anyone she wanted. Her transformation had begun her freshman year
of college, when she had abandoned her father’s dream to become an
engineer and embraced her own desire to become a writer. It had
only been a baby step at the time, and one she hadn’t recognized
until recently as being the real her trying to break free. That one
small change had been her first effort to discover her true
self.

In hindsight, she realized she had always
done what everyone else had expected. She had studied academics in
school even though she wanted to pursue more artistic endeavors.
Dad had compromised and allowed her to take piano lessons when she
was a kid, and she later taught herself how to play guitar, but her
class schedule had been packed with math and science. If not for
English, homework would have been a drag. At least she had managed
to convince her parents to let her join the basketball and
cross-country teams in high school. Back then, she had loved
distance running.

She hadn’t run in years. Not since sophomore
year in college. She missed it. For her, running had been almost
meditative. Maybe she would go for a short run later in the day.
Perhaps start training for a 5k. The thought was surprisingly
empowering.

In the mirror, her gaze dropped to her chest.
Mark had called her breasts perfect.

“I am beautiful.” She smiled at her
reflection, believing the words. Mark had made her feel
beautiful.

She pulled off her T-shirt.
Were
they
perfect? Instead of seeing the definition of small in her
reflection, was she really seeing the definition of perfection?

Gentle swells pushed upward from the confines
of her bra. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and for the first
time, she looked—really looked—at her breasts. Always before, she
had averted her gaze, too insecure to face the perceived
flatness.

But her breasts weren’t flat. She did have
hills on her chest instead of valleys. Screw those stupid kids who
had bullied her.

Taking a deep breath, she reached around and
unclasped her bra. She held it in place for a moment, and then,
with eyes closed, she let it drop to the floor. Slowly, as if
unwrapping a gift, she opened her eyes again.

“I am beautiful.” Her words were a mere
whisper now, but a feeling comprised of equal parts relief,
happiness, and revelation hugged her heart.

Her pale nipples puckered against the air,
forming tiny round nubs the size of baby peas. She had small, pert
nipples that capped smaller-than-average breasts. But her breasts
weren’t flat, and they weren’t ugly. In fact, now that she was
giving them a hard look, they looked perfectly proportioned to her
body. She was naturally lean, like her father, with hips that
looked more athletic than curvy. When she turned to the side, her
bottom curved in a way that balanced perfectly with the small
stature of her breasts. She was no Jennifer Lopez, but her bottom
was…well…nice.

Hmm. How about that? Amazing what an
objective assessment—and one very hot man—could do to change how
she viewed her body.

“I
am
beautiful.”

It would take time for her to fully adjust
her perspective, but this felt like another breakthrough moment,
similar to the one she had experienced when she made the decision,
despite her dad’s protests, to change majors. She had felt such a
burden lift off her soul that day, just as she felt one lifting
now. For the first time, she saw herself the way Mark saw her.

Screw her stupid brother and his wife,
Estelle. Screw Jolene, too. Screw all her stupid childhood
classmates.

The past was the past, and she was moving
forward.

She retrieved her bra from the floor and put
it back on. As she pulled her T-shirt over her head, she crossed
the room and sat on the bed. The case that contained the pair of
black Ben Wa balls sat on her bedside table. So far, she’d done her
Kegels without them. For some reason, the idea of putting them in
her vagina had intimidated her. Well, no more of that. She was a
grown woman, for crying out loud, not a baby. It was time to grow a
pair and woman-up.