It wasn’t until then that I noticed the employees had stopped their daily routines to watch the showdown. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Of course David would take full advantage of the audience.
“Then maybe you should sell some of your shares to me, and donate that money.” His ugly face smiled smugly before he turned his back on me and walked toward his end of the building.
As much as I was trying to get him to sell out to me, he was doing the same in return. Both of us were too damn stubborn to let the other one win.
His abhorrent behavior in front of our employees and the fact that I knew he didn’t really give a shit about my mother’s dream for Scarlet Lotus to pay it forward, so to speak, made me entertain the thought of knocking every one of the fucker’s teeth out of his oversized head. But I’d learned as a child that two wrongs don’t make a right, and I really was in a hurry, so I slowly counted to ten to regain my composure and forced my feet to move in the opposite direction. I’d deal with him later if need be.
I made my way to the lobby and outside and was relieved to find Samuel already waiting at the curb. Chicago rush hour traffic can be a bitch, but somehow Samuel always seemed to outmaneuver everyone else, and in a stretch limo to boot.
Lanie
Oh … my … good googly-moogly!
Never, and I do mean never, had I ever felt something so insanely pleasurable in all my life.
The wicked things that man did with his fingers and the seductive way he looked at me from under those long, lush lashes, hypnotizing me and my body into obeying his every command. The dirty things his sinful mouth said that made me feel like slapping him and riding his face all at the same time, and don’t even get me started on that tongue and the malevolent way it sang to my nipples. I swear, I think he was speaking in tongues even though not a sound was made, but I sure as hell felt it.
The man was evil incarnate, Satan’s immortal son, and I was doomed. I could feel what little religion was left in my traitorous body being sucked from my soul, turning me into a backsliding sinner. I was going to hell, and I really hoped his fingers met me at the gate.
I sat there in my postorgasmic bliss, my skin shriveling up and the water going cold. Back and forth he walked from the bedroom to the bathroom as he got ready for work. I watched him brush his teeth in his underwear, and then he disappeared back into the bedroom only to reemerge in a pair of black slacks that hung low on his hips and accentuated the delicious V of his abdomen. The belt on his pants was hanging open, he still didn’t have a shirt on, and he was standing there barefoot. I was mesmerized by the movement of his back muscles as he looked into the mirror and did absolutely nothing but put a dab of gel in his palm before he ran his fingers through his sexy hair. He looked over at me, winked, and did this half-smirk thing while he applied deodorant in a way that made it look pornographic. I seriously wanted to nuzzle his pits.
There was an air of confidence about him that made me want to lick him from head to toe, and then maybe suck on all his little piggies.
While a part of me was relieved that he was leaving, my inner miniwhore wanted to beg him to get back in the tub and show us that magic trick he’d done with those porntastic fingers again. Just like that, Double Agent Coochie was born. All it had taken was my very first orgasm to bring her to life. And she was apparently a very shameless hoochie. Great.
It wasn’t until I heard Noah shout that he was leaving and the door close behind him that I finally forced myself to get out of the bath of sin. My bags were sitting just inside the door; I assumed Noah had brought them up. Once I was dressed and feeling a bit modest again, I decided to leave the bedroom in search of some sustenance. I hadn’t even eaten the night before because my nerves had been all over the damn place and I’d been worried that I’d end up puking right in the middle of my auction.
The house was eerily quiet, but oddly warm and cozy given how big it was. I slowly made my way down the hall and toward the staircase, checking out my surroundings in awe. It was tastefully decorated with large paintings that looked like they cost more than what my father had made in an entire year at the only factory in Hillsboro. The floors were carpeted a regal red, but the walls were kept white. Most of the doors to the other rooms were closed, but I didn’t bother to open them because I was hungry and I knew I’d eventually see them over the next two years.
Once I made it down the staircase, the eerie quiet went out the window. There had to be at least half a dozen women in gray uniforms with white aprons scurrying about like a colony of ants united in the task of making Casa de Crawford immaculate. All of that stopped the second they sensed my presence, every pair of eyes trained on me in surprise.
“Um, hi,” I greeted them.
A short, pudgy woman stepped forward with a smile as bright as the sun. “Excuse me, miss. We didn’t mean to disturb you. We can come back later if you’d like.” She waved her hands at the other women and they started gathering their supplies.
“No, it’s fine!” I said, probably a little louder than necessary. “I mean, you know … you’re not bothering me. So just do whatever it is you’re here to do, and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
The lady turned back to me again, same smile in place. “We shouldn’t be long.”
I furrowed my brow. “Pfft, yeah. Take your time.” She bowed slightly, which was weird, and then turned again, but I stopped her. “Um, can you point me in the direction of the kitchen?”
She waved her hand toward a long corridor. “It’s just down the way and through the dining hall, miss.”