Shame on You
Author:Tara Sivec

“You know that’s a total lie, right? I’m just saying things like this to you so I can catch McFadden,” he whispers as he slowly starts to push himself inside me.

I want to pull away and smack the grin right off his face that I know is there, but he feels too good between my legs and my body has suddenly lost its ability to move.

He teases me by pushing just a little bit inside me and then pulling right back out and I groan loudly in protest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’ll make you feel good, gorgeous. I’ll make you come until you can’t remember your name and then leave you here in bed to go get McFadden. Because you know I’ve known the entire time exactly where he is. I just wanted to see you race around trying to beat me. You’ll never win. You should just accept that.”

Alarms are going off in my head and I really should try harder to get out of this fucking bed, but he has a magical penis and I’m pretty sure he’s using voodoo on me. I can’t move and I can’t speak. I should be concerned with this. I should be screaming obscenities at him, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out but another groan.

He starts to push in deeper and it feels so good that I don’t care about anything but finally having him inside me. What is wrong with me? More alarms are going off and they sound like bells ringing. Where are the bells coming from? They get louder and louder as he continues to whisper taunts in my ear.

With all of the strength I can muster, I finally make my arm move and reach out to smack away whatever that ringing sound is. My hand clutches something small and as he pulls out of me and readies himself to slam his way back home, I find my voice and scream for all I’m worth.


“Well, good morning to you too,” Griffin says with a chuckle.

Blinking my eyes into focus, I bolt up in bed and frantically look around, realizing I’m all alone with my cell phone up to my ear.

A dream? It was a fucking dream?

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be screaming curses at this point,” he says through the phone line while I try to shake the dream from my head. “Any idea how all of the keys on my computer got switched around and glued in the wrong place?”

At least that part wasn’t a dream.

“Or maybe you know how two-hundred Post-it notes with pictures of penises drawn on them were glued to every inch of my desk,” he deadpans.


In my dream, I couldn’t speak. Now that I’m awake, I just don’t want to. Yes, I know I behaved a little childishly last night, but it wasn’t my fault. It was the wine’s fault.

“Really, it’s no big deal that since I don’t look at my fingers when I type, I sent out an e-mail to the state police that said ‘gfpwq7 exclamation point asterisk’ and my e-mail signature said ‘Griffin Crawford, King of All Penises,’” he adds.

“Well, it serves you right for not proofing your e-mails before you send them,” I finally say.

I hear him sigh on the other end of the line and I almost feel a little bad about our drunken escapade last night.


When he says my name so soft and sweet I forget all about the bad dream I had.

“Yeah?” I reply quietly with a small smile on my face.

“Sleep with one eye open, babe. Game on.”

I hear the silence of the ended call in my ear and for the first time in my life, I’m dreading getting out of bed and going to work.

This is not going to end well.

I spent the next day and a half interviewing anyone and everyone McFadden ever knew, including all of his childhood friends. No one had seen or heard from him in months and they couldn’t give me anything to go on as far as finding him. On top of that huge waste of time, I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder waiting for Griffin to jump out from behind a bush and taser me to get back at me for that little superglue stunt we pulled.

Walking into Fool Me Investigations with a jumbo-size hazelnut coffee in my hand, I’m immediately assaulted by the sounds of phones ringing off the hook and Paige running back and forth between desks to answer them.

“Yes, I have your name and number and someone will call you back shortly. Yes, I wrote down that this is an emergency. Okay. Yes, we have a blonde that works here—why does that matter?” Paige asks into the phone as her pen pauses on the phone message pad. “Eeeeew, that’s disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

She slams the phone down and stalks over to me, clutching a stack of messages in her hand.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask her as the phone she just hung up immediately starts to ring again and when I glance at the phone console on my desk, I see that all twelve lines are lit up and blinking angrily.

“This has been going on since I walked through the door an hour ago. People are calling for our services left and right. And let me tell you something, the things they are asking for are illegal in fifteen states,” she tells me.

Grabbing the messages out of her hand, I skim through them and see that each and every one is asking for an immediate request to fix our back door.

“What the hell? Is our door broke? Are these all locksmiths?” I ask her.

“I don’t know. Whenever I ask them they just laugh and tell me they want the special that’s in the ad. Did you run an ad?”

I did place an ad in the local newspaper that was going to start running this week, but it was for 10 percent off for first-time customers. This makes no sense.

“Sleep with one eye open, babe. Game on.”

Griffin’s parting words on the phone this morning run through my head.

“Oh no,” I whisper as the door opens and I see my dad walk in with the morning paper in his hands.

“Kennedy, if you needed money, you could have come to me,” he says.