Behind her head, the door
clicked. She continued staring at the ceiling tiles and focused on
anything mundane, like puppies, her work schedule for the next week
and where she wanted to go shopping for a new pair of boots.
“Perfect.” Elias snapped his
latex gloves, grabbing her attention. “Not much longer now.”
She glanced to watch him place
thin circles of chilly phyllo dough over her breasts and her pussy.
Sliced strawberries and bananas decorated around her navel in a neat
pyramid. Sliced peaches ringed the pile. He arranged dollops of
whipped cream on her covered nipples, then added a cherry. A tiny
round cake ended up on the dough covering her groin. All in all, the
set up wasn’t nearly as exotic or intricate like she’d expected.
“That looks hot but good enough
to eat.” He checked his watch. “And it’s time for me to head out.”
Elias wiped his hands. “Thanks for coming through for me. The
money’s in my desk downstairs. Ask Sean to open the locked drawer
for you.” He winked, then walked out of her line of sight.
She blew out a long breath then
closed her eyes. From the other side of the door, she heard Elias
“Happy birthday, dear Seany-boy,
happy birthday to you. Now go enjoy your dinner, old man.”
The door knob clicked and
creaked. Roxy held as still as possible, but her hands trembled. She
flattened them on the table and prayed no one would notice.
“Old man my ass.” A shadow moved
to her right, then something else creaked. “Roxy?”
She knew that voice. Sean. When
she trained to do Nyotaimori, she learned the art of laying still.
Being around Sean made that task damned near impossible. She
breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth to keep from
Sean stood beside her and picked
up a strawberry, then popped it into his mouth. “Happy birthday to
me,” he said between bites.