She knows. She knows and she doesn’t care.

It’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I’ve been on edge for a week, certain that Carly’s going to quit the second she finds out about my past. That would be typical. I finally find the best babysitter Olivia could ever ask for and she goes and quits.

She wouldn’t be the first. Three years ago, when Shannon died, six of my employees quit for unexplained reasons before the charges were dropped. Two more quit when I was released from prison, as if the charges being dropped made things even worse.

Carly is stronger than that. She doesn’t care that she’s working for a man accused of murdering his heavily-pregnant wife. She must really need the money. No, it’s more than that. She loves Olivia. She can’t be that good an actress or she’d be working as one. This is LA, after all.

A horrible thought crosses my mind, but I dismiss it before it can take root. What if Carly is doing research for her screenplay? She never told me about her screenplay, and I likely never would have found out if she hadn’t left the script up on her laptop screen. One of her characters goes to law school, and Carly went to the effort of attending a lecture to get a feel for it. Maybe this law student solves a crime, or ends up defending a murderer after passing the bar? Carly’s not scared of doing hands-on research. Who’s to say that I’m not the subject?

It’s a silly notion of course. Going to a law school lecture for two hours is a little different to working full-time for a murder suspect. That’s what I am to most people—a murder suspect. That’s why I buried myself in work after the charges were dropped. Other than the employees who quit, the corporate world doesn’t give a shit who you are so long as you can sell them what they want. People have principles, but those principles might as well be written in invisible ink when they need to buy your camera equipment to make the best-looking movies.

My criminal history hasn’t stopped Sandra at Pacific Technologies from trying to acquire my company for the last six months. I’m sure there are board members who want nothing to do with me and LCA, Inc., but Sandra knows that an acquisition would set up Pacific Technologies as the biggest and best provider of sophisticated digital camera equipment in Los Angeles. Doing business with a murderer is a small price to pay.

I’m going to end up selling. I can feel it. Every morning, within minutes of arriving at the office, I’m desperate to get home and see Olivia and Carly. In addition to worrying about my employees, the main problem with selling up is that I’ll have no reason to keep Carly on as a babysitter. Olivia loves her, and the house always feels empty when she leaves and at weekends.

I don’t notice Grady walk into my office until he’s standing right in front of my desk.

“No need to guess what’s on your mind,” Grady remarks. “Still thinking about the deal?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “It’s a tough one.”

“It might be about to get easier.”

“Why’s that? Are they upping the offer again?”

“No,” Grady replies. “But I think they’re going to sweeten the pot. Sandra wants to talk to you in private. You remember what happened last time she did that?”

I nod. Sandra doesn’t have sole control over the amount of money offered, but there are plenty of smaller terms that she can influence. We spoke a few weeks ago and she promised to include a clause guaranteeing that all retained employees would keep their generous benefit plans and salaries. Sure enough, that promise is now part of the letter of intent. The only problem is, she made no promises about how many employees she would keep on after the deal. Maybe if I talk to her again….

“Tell her to give me a call,” I say to Grady. “As soon as possible.”

“She doesn’t want to do this over the phone,” Grady says anxiously.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I reply, exasperated. “Not again?”

Grady nods and hands me a piece of leather with my photo and some writing on it. These invitations are fucking stupid. Silk for the women, leather for the men. They look like they were created in a six-year-old’s art class, except the subject matter is more adult.

“I told her you’d prefer a phone call, but she insisted,” Grady says apologetically. “She wants the conversation to be discrete and apparently these parties are as discrete as it gets.”

“Fucking hell, Grady, we’re not Soviet spies. This is ridiculous.”

Grady holds his hands up defensively, but there’s enough of a smile on his face that I know he’s enjoying this. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Anyway, I thought you liked these parties. You used to go them once a week back in the day. Wasn’t that where you met Shannon?”

“Look how well that turned out,” I reply.

Grady’s right; I used to love going to sex parties and often took willing women along as dates. The ‘dominant male, submissive woman’ vibe might seem old fashioned, but there are still plenty of women who get off on being dominated; I can give an Oscar-winning performance in the role of the dominator.

Sandra gets a kick out of being dominated. She’s a high-powered CEO during the day, so these parties give her a chance to let loose anonymously and be submissive.

At the last party, she made it quite clear that she was mine for the taking. I might have been interested if it weren’t for the far hotter woman I’d met earlier that night. Sandra flirted with me as much as she could while playing the role of a subservient woman who couldn’t so much as make eye contact without my permission. I couldn’t get in the mood. All I wanted was the woman who ran away. Sandra and I ended up talking business for half an hour and then I left. Her failure at that party hasn’t put her off trying again.

“Are you free Saturday?” Grady asks.

“Maybe. I need to see if my babysitter is available.”

Carly. God, I’d love to take her to the party. There’s nothing more thrilling than being at a sex party with a woman who’s never experienced it before. They start off nervous, but most of them get into it. That’s what happened with the girl. I’m convinced she’d never been submissive before, because she didn’t know the rules. She quickly got into it, though. I’d bet good money Carly has never fantasized about being dominated. She’d find the parties shocking, but maybe, just maybe, she’d also find them arousing. She might get curious. She might get into it just like my girl did.

The invitation is from the same group that organized the last one. My girl might be there. It’s worth the effort to find out.

I’m desperate to leave work as early as possible, but I get tipped off that one of our customers is close to filing for bankruptcy, and I end up spending the afternoon with Grady calculating the financial fallout. Carly agrees to stay late with Olivia, but I feel guilty for not getting home until nine o’clock.

“Sorry about today,” I say, the second I get in the door. Olivia’s already in bed, which makes me feel doubly guilty, because I only spent ten minutes with her this morning.

“That’s fine,” Carly replies. “I’ve been working on my screenplay for the last hour, so it’s no big deal.”

I can’t resist the temptation to glance at her laptop, but I don’t see anything interesting. No mentions of murderers or a dead wife.

“I’ll pay you time-and-a-half for the overtime.”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“It is. I don’t want to be one of those bosses that stops you from having a social life. Although… I do have a favor to ask.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you babysit tomorrow night? I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m sure you have plans, but I’ll pay you double.”

“I’d love to,” Carly replies, “but I can’t. I’m sorry, but I actually have plans Saturday night.”

“Damn. Sorry, I should have realized you wouldn’t just be sat around by yourself.”

You idiot, Parker. Look at her. Of course she has plans Saturday night. She’s a stunningly gorgeous woman. She’s not sat around at home waiting for more opportunities to look after your child.

“It’s typical,” Carly says, “I’m usually free, but this one Saturday I have plans that I can’t cancel.”

“It’s fine, I can ask my sister.” I pause and a moment’s awkwardness passes between us. Can I ask her what she’s doing Saturday night? I’m technically her employer, but we get on well, and I often ask my employees what they’re doing at the weekend. It’s polite.

“Going anywhere nice?” I ask, as casually as I can manage.

“Um, not really. It’s a party. I’m going with a friend.”

She’s going on a date. It’s obvious from the nervous tone of her voice. I’d wager it’s the beginning of a new relationship. Maybe a second or third date. I never enjoyed going on dates, but I enjoyed what happened after the dates. Being with a new woman. Learning what they like. Pushing against their limits.

I could ask her to work Sunday morning. That might stop her going home with him. On the other hand, I don’t want to see her freshly glowing from a night of sex with another man. And it would be a little petty. I can’t stop her having sex forever.

Why do I even care? I’m going to a sex party on Saturday night. Women line up for me at these events. Literally. They form an orderly line and hope that I will show them some attention. I’ve had women thank me for letting them make me a drink, let alone what I do to the ones I really like. At the very least, I’ll be able to boss Sandra around. She’s an attractive enough woman, so it won’t be a complete waste of time.

And my girl might be there. She can distract me from thoughts of Carly dating some loser who doesn’t know how lucky he is. That will have to do.

“What about you?” Carly asks. “Do you have anything exciting planned?”

“Not really,” I reply. “I’m going to a party as well, but it’s a work thing. I have to show my face and talk business.” Except my face will be under a mask and the business conversation will be kept to an absolute minimum.

Carly smiles and brushes her hair behind her ear which reveals a line of red pen on the side of her neck.

“Olivia got a little carried away when we were drawing earlier,” Carly says, as she notices where I’m staring. “I’ve scrubbed, but it’s not coming out.”

“If she ever does that to your clothes, then let me know and I’ll pay for them.”

Carly shakes her head and smiles again. “It’s all part of the job. Honestly, you pay me more than enough.”

Carly packs up and leaves for the night. The house feels empty the second she’s gone. This place is far too big for me and Olivia, but it’s never bothered me before. Not even after Shannon died.

I’m bored, so I call Marie to make sure she can look after Olivia.

“Why do you assume I don’t have plans on a Saturday night?” Marie asks. “Maybe I’m busy.”

“Michael can always come over as well. I’m sure you can do whatever you have planned here. I have a Netflix account.”

“I’ll have you know, we’re not just going to sit there all night and watch Netflix. We’re not that boring.”

“Hulu?”

“Amazon Prime actually.”

“I stand corrected. Is that a no?”

“No, of course I’ll look after her. I miss Olivia. Carly is lovely, but I miss looking after that kid. I still have no idea how such an incredible child came from such a spiteful woman.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Can you drop Olivia off here?” Marie asks. “She can stay the night and I’ll bring her back in the morning. That way you can have fun at your party.”

“I’m only going for work,” I insist. I hope that ends up being a lie. I need my girl to be there, otherwise Sunday is going to drag by slowly while I wait to see Carly again.

“My job isn’t that exciting,” Marie replies. “Which I’m grateful for, come to think of it. I hope you haven’t told Carly where you’re spending the night.”

“No, why?”

“She’s a nice girl. If you don’t scare her off, she might hang around the house without you needing to pay her.”

“She’s dating someone,” I reply solemnly.

“Oh. Well, keep her in mind. I like her.”

“Will do.”

Keeping Carly in my mind isn’t the problem. Getting her out of it is the tricky part. Ever since that party, I’ve been thinking about my girl when I jack off. Problem is, I can’t really picture her. I remember how she felt and how she tasted, but that’s all. Recently, Carly’s been working her way into my imagination more and more.

Tonight, it’s not my girl I’ll think about when I come—it’s Carly.