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No matter how I sliced it, that couldn't be a good sign. I didn't take my hand away, however. The richness of his voice had made me wet and slick.
“I went to see a lawyer today,” I told him.
The other end of the line was quiet for a fraction of a second longer than I expected. “Good,” he said. “I'm glad. You should have legal counsel when signing legal documents.”
Yeah. And she told me to marry you if the sex was good. My middle finger circled my clit as though pondering just how much it could get away with while I talked on the phone. “Uh-huh. Anyway, I have a few changes to make.”
This time the silence on the other end was definitely longer than I expected. A few other fingers joined the first. At last there was a rustling sound, and I heard him sigh. “We should meet.”
I hadn't expected that, although I probably should have. “Okay. At your office?”
“No,” he said. “It's almost lunch time. We should meet for lunch.”
My roving hand stilled and my nerves shot through the roof. “Uh. Okay. Where?”
This time when he spoke, I could hear the smile in his voice, and that made me even more nervous. “I'll send a car to pick you up.”
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“How should I dress—” I started to say, but he hung up on me.
I stared at the phone in my hand. Quickly, I redialed his number, but it went immediately to voice mail.
My eyes flew to the contract where it sat on my coffee table. All that shit about being submissive... that's what he was doing, wasn't it? He was trying to show me just how much power he held.
“Ass!” I said out loud, though I would have been hard pressed to tell anyone listening if I were calling Waters an ass, or merely commenting on the general situation. Maybe both.
I jumped up from my seat, shedding my towel and bathrobe.
Two could play this game.
*
Anton Waters knew where I lived.
I mean, of course he did, it was right there on his stupid contract, but the fact that a fancy-ass car—black, naturally—pulled up to my shitty apartment in my little low rent neighborhood reminded me that he knew where I lived. Suddenly my tiny shoebox didn't seem so safe and snug. For reasons I couldn't define, the idea that he could probably find me whenever he chose gave me the shivers.
I took a drag of my cigarette and lifted my chin.
To his credit, the driver Waters had sent only did a double-take when he saw me, and it was only a small one, at that. But it was enough. I knew I had done a good job.
I'm not in the habit of dressing up, and I have to make my clothes last when I get them, so luckily I still had some truly awful clothes left over from college. The tiny red skirt I wore contrasted horribly with the orange blouse, worn because it revealed a truly indecent amount of cleavage. Knee-high leather boots and some torn fishnets leftover from that Halloween where I dressed up like Sally Bowles completed the outfit, and I'd layered the blue eyeshadow on like it had gone out of style in the eighties. I hadn't had time to do my hair so it still hung straight and wasn't a glorious frizzball like I'd wanted, but I thought I looked pretty good. For my purposes anyway.
The driver recovered and opened the door. "Ma'am," he said. "My name is Zachary. Let me know if you need anything."
"Thank you," I told him, and got in.
The car was even nicer on the inside than on the out, and the outside had been pretty damn sweet. Buttery leather seats caressed my thighs through my fishnets, and there was a tiny bar built into the seats in front of me. Look at me, it seemed to say. I'm classy and made of real wood.
"Is the bar free, or do I have to pay a surcharge?" I asked the driver as we pulled away from my apartment.
"Mr. Waters said you were welcome to anything you wish, ma'am." Unlike Katy and Arthur, Zachary seemed more standoffish, but that was probably my outfit talking. He was the soul of politeness otherwise, but I could practically feel him replaying the plot of Pretty Woman in his head and trying to figure out which scene he was in.
Well, I might as well give myself a little liquid courage. I popped open the bar and grabbed a bottle at random. Scotch. Of course.
Yuck.
Trying to act cool, I replaced itand looked out the window. "So where are we going?" I asked.
