Page 28 of Billion Dollar Love: Manlove Edition

I stay tense and still for perilous seconds, waiting for the TV screen to blink on. For some command. The low hum of a music player. Or the clinking of chains. I wait for the light to rise on a new costume or a yellowed piece of paper.

“Mr. Ito?”

No change in the darkness or silence.

Sneaky sexy bastard.

I take a step towards the stairs and sing a little into the darkness. “Mr. Ito?”

Nothing.

I carefully step on the stairs, fully expecting the motion censor to trigger. When it does not, I wonder again about the power. I mean, summer blackouts happen even on 5th Ave., right?

At the bottom of the stairs, the cool marble chills my feet. When I am still in darkness, I take out my phone’s flashlight and aim it around. The light catches on the mask, in its place on the wall. Then on a Post-it note the TV screen.

I bring my phone closer to read it. I guess I was supposed to come home during the daylight. Maybe poor Sweetness fell asleep waiting for me to fall into his trap.

I chuckle at the thought. Maybe I’ll put on the mask. Give him a scare.

The Post-it reads, “Go to the kitchen and brace yourself.”

My attention snaps up to the dark counters, and I aim the phone’s flashlight there. Hoping to catch him. The kitchen, broad and open, is empty.

Brace myself?

I walk away from the windows, aiming the flashlight from the edge of the sunken den to the kitchen. Where the hell is—

Something thin and flexible wraps around my chest and shoulders, and I’m jerked back. Hard and fast. I drop my phone.

“Jesus Christ!”

I’d fall backward, if his body wasn’t there to catch me. It’s a cashmere scarf wrangled around me, then his hand on my throat. My phone’s flashlight aims uselessly up at the decorative beams on the ceiling.

But I see the glint of gold, before the hard edge of the mask caresses the side of my cheek. “You’ve got places around the theater?”

“Sorry, boss. I must’ve forgot who I was talking to.” I gamely struggle away from him, but he’s holding me inescapably. Those diamond handcuffs latch behind my back, and when I’m restrained his hand gropes my ass. Squeezing hard and pressing the khaki of my shorts against my soon-to-be-raw skin. Once again, serves me right for not wearing underwear.

“I’m in for a world of torment tonight, aren’t it?” My best attempt to emote despair can’t mask the sudden rush of lust. I can give Mr. Ito what he wants.

“Not more than you deserve, Omocha.”

And I get what I need.

The End

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