Page 22 of Tease Me

I tried to look elegant as I walked up the stairs with my legs apart, and when the sliding glass doors opened, I was horrified to see Needledick walking from the elevator on his way to the reception desk. I inwardly cringed as Iscurriedtoward the elevator.

“Hi, Jane.”

“Oh, hi.” I faked a shiver. “It’s freezing out there.”

He frowned. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

I jabbed the elevator button. “Yeah, sure is. I’d advise against going out.”

He looked toward the glass doors, and I turned to see sunshine withnot awhisper of breeze to move the palm fronds and five girls walking along in bikinis.

Needledick turned back to me, frowning.

I shivered again. “Brrr.”

The elevator opened, and I jumped in and jabbed the button for my floor ten times. I let out a huge sigh when the doors closed, and the elevator made the slow trip up to my level.

Atmy room, I undressed, showered, brushed my teeth, and put on winter flannel pajamas, thenstrolled to my bed and reached for my diary.

I turned to the 13th of July and wrote,Henry Addison. As I thought about our wonderful morning and what I’d learned about him, I wrote,Kiss and Tellbeneath his name.

Once again, I lined the pages with details about Henry’s miracle hands and how he could make me orgasm while barely touching me.

Why was that? Was it because I trusted him completely? Was it because hereallywas a skilled master? Was it because he was no longer a stranger, and I knew what miracles he could perform?

I had no idea.

But there was one thing I did know.

If Henrycame back, I’d be ready and willing to see him again.

I put my diary aside, crawled under the quilt, grabbed my spare pillow, and hugged it to my chest. As exhaustion lulled me to sleep, I imagined the pillow in my arms was a man.

A man who would hug me every night and allow all my dreams to come true.

If one more thing goes wrong tonight, I’m going to scream.Usually, I liked to keep busy, but that didn’t mean having everything breakdown in one shift. With all the tiny bits of shredded paperthat I’dpulled from the printer now in the rubbish bin, I put the toner back into the machine and pressed the power button again. Holding my breath as I waited for it to complete its usual start-up process, I prayed thatthe paper jam was now fixed.

With a pretty little jingle, the printer finally announced it was ready, and I sighed with relief as I returned to my computer and hit ‘print’ for the fourth time.

When the reception phone rang, I glanced at the clock and cringed. A call from a guest at two in the morning could only indicate trouble. I forced friendliness into my voice and picked up the handset. “Hello, Mr. Harper, this is Jane Nichols, Night Manager. How can I help you?”

“Jane, I have no electricity up here.”

“Oh, that’s strange. Okay, I’ll be right up.”

I put the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter, grabbed my master key card, and took the elevator to the eighth floor. All the lightswere workingin the hallway, which was a good sign. I knocked on the door to room forty-six, and a middle-aged man in checkered pajamas opened the door.His glasses sat on his head amongst his scrambled dark hair, anddespite the lack of room lighting,the scowl on his face was unmissable.

“It went out about half an hour ago. I’m still working here.” He pointed to a laptop screen that glowed in the dark.

I flicked the light switch near the entrance, and after the change in his stance, I instantly regretted it. With his hands on his hips, he stepped closer to me. “And . . . do you believe me now?”

“Of course, Mr. Harper. I have an electrician on the way,” I lied.

“Well, how long’s that going to take?”

“He’ll be here soon and?—”

“It’s not good enough.I need tohave this PowerPoint finishedbefore morning and my bloody laptop battery is pathetic.”

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