studios downstairs gave a slight creak under her weight. The familiar sound was welcoming. This was her place, the warehouse, the studios. All hers. Her dad had worked, pro bono, of course, to get her a nice settlement in the divorce. The award helped with a new start; however, the price was steep in other ways.
With each step, her thoughts tried to force the dark images of that day, after they’d signed the papers, into the back recesses of her brain. The crippling nightmares of that night were easing up, at least they had been until the weird e-mails started coming.
She wasn’t too surprised by the cards, really. Someone in the business had told her she might encounter some strange fans. “ People can get kind of crazy and obsessive in this business ,” the man had said. Yeah, he had no idea! But once she e-mailed the sender back to ask him to stop sending the cards, they kept coming. That was when she knew Justin had to be the one behind the cryptic e-cards.
Ron had left the lights on, thank God. There would’ve been no way she would’ve walked through the huge ground floor without it being well lit. It was a Friday night, and everyone had taken the night off. They usually began filming first thing Saturday morning, so she gave the staff Friday nights off. Even though she’d walked through the warehouse a million times, when it was empty it still made her uneasy.
“Stop it, Abigail. He doesn’t know where you are. Just grab the box and go.” With her pep talk urging her on, she grabbed the box of toys and made her way down the corridor to her office. She set the box on the chair by the door and walked back out into the main part of the warehouse. She flipped all the switches but one, plunging the gaping space of metal and concrete into shadows.
With shaky hands, she opened the door and took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this. I deserve to have a life.”
* * * *
“You’re up, Sean.” Eric, Ron’s boyfriend, leaned the pool stick against the booth. “He won.”
Ron was racking the colorful balls into the plastic triangle. “That’s right; now you have to pay up.”
Sean was sliding out of the booth when Ron walked over and grabbed Eric. Ron cornered the guy against the table and stuck his tongue down Eric’s throat. Sean didn’t know whether to scoot further into the booth or run completely out of the damn bar. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the guys kissing each other, but he didn’t want to be in the middle of it.
“That’s right, big guy. My dick, your mouth, twenty minutes—and you get to swallow. Now isn’t that a treat?”
Eric’s glazed expression said it all. Hell yeah, it sounded good to Sean too, minus the dude. He could see his pretty little boss on her knees, skin red from the concrete on the warehouse floor, slurping his dick. The imagined sound of her gagging and pulling back was enough to make his balls bluer than they already were. Damn, he had to get her out of his brain. Every time he stepped into the shower, his hand was on his cock, and the image of her tits bounced in his head.
“Mmmm,” Eric murmured as he nipped at Ron’s ear.
“I’m going to go grab another drink before we start.” Sean slid out of the booth and hightailed it to the bar. He glanced over his shoulder. There was a big crowd for being such a hole-in-the-wall bar.
“What can I get ya?” The perky voice behind the bar was backed up by a pair of even perkier fake tits.
“Root beer.” The drink had become his favorite, seeing as he wasn’t a big drinker.
“Haven’t seen you in here before.” The blonde bartender popped the cap on an amber-colored bottle. “I can promise I would’ve noticed you.”
Sean tried to smile. Same old story, same old line. “I’m from the other end of town.” The one on the other side of the tracks. Literally.
“Here ya go, pretty.”
Pretty? What the fuck? He took a swig.
“Oh, like you don’t know you’re hot,” she said. “What are
With each step, her thoughts tried to force the dark images of that day, after they’d signed the papers, into the back recesses of her brain. The crippling nightmares of that night were easing up, at least they had been until the weird e-mails started coming.
She wasn’t too surprised by the cards, really. Someone in the business had told her she might encounter some strange fans. “ People can get kind of crazy and obsessive in this business ,” the man had said. Yeah, he had no idea! But once she e-mailed the sender back to ask him to stop sending the cards, they kept coming. That was when she knew Justin had to be the one behind the cryptic e-cards.
Ron had left the lights on, thank God. There would’ve been no way she would’ve walked through the huge ground floor without it being well lit. It was a Friday night, and everyone had taken the night off. They usually began filming first thing Saturday morning, so she gave the staff Friday nights off. Even though she’d walked through the warehouse a million times, when it was empty it still made her uneasy.
“Stop it, Abigail. He doesn’t know where you are. Just grab the box and go.” With her pep talk urging her on, she grabbed the box of toys and made her way down the corridor to her office. She set the box on the chair by the door and walked back out into the main part of the warehouse. She flipped all the switches but one, plunging the gaping space of metal and concrete into shadows.
With shaky hands, she opened the door and took a deep breath. “I can do this. I can do this. I deserve to have a life.”
* * * *
“You’re up, Sean.” Eric, Ron’s boyfriend, leaned the pool stick against the booth. “He won.”
Ron was racking the colorful balls into the plastic triangle. “That’s right; now you have to pay up.”
Sean was sliding out of the booth when Ron walked over and grabbed Eric. Ron cornered the guy against the table and stuck his tongue down Eric’s throat. Sean didn’t know whether to scoot further into the booth or run completely out of the damn bar. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the guys kissing each other, but he didn’t want to be in the middle of it.
“That’s right, big guy. My dick, your mouth, twenty minutes—and you get to swallow. Now isn’t that a treat?”
Eric’s glazed expression said it all. Hell yeah, it sounded good to Sean too, minus the dude. He could see his pretty little boss on her knees, skin red from the concrete on the warehouse floor, slurping his dick. The imagined sound of her gagging and pulling back was enough to make his balls bluer than they already were. Damn, he had to get her out of his brain. Every time he stepped into the shower, his hand was on his cock, and the image of her tits bounced in his head.
“Mmmm,” Eric murmured as he nipped at Ron’s ear.
“I’m going to go grab another drink before we start.” Sean slid out of the booth and hightailed it to the bar. He glanced over his shoulder. There was a big crowd for being such a hole-in-the-wall bar.
“What can I get ya?” The perky voice behind the bar was backed up by a pair of even perkier fake tits.
“Root beer.” The drink had become his favorite, seeing as he wasn’t a big drinker.
“Haven’t seen you in here before.” The blonde bartender popped the cap on an amber-colored bottle. “I can promise I would’ve noticed you.”
Sean tried to smile. Same old story, same old line. “I’m from the other end of town.” The one on the other side of the tracks. Literally.
“Here ya go, pretty.”
Pretty? What the fuck? He took a swig.
“Oh, like you don’t know you’re hot,” she said. “What are
Similar Books
