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 again. Singing?

“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 shaking.

Sean stood beside her and picked up a strawberry, then popped it into his mouth. “Happy birthday to me,” he said between bites.

Reviews