Page 10 of Madam, May I

And my loyal, uncomplicated, trouble-free vibrator. Go, Rabbit. Go.

She texted Byron.

M.: It’s a no for now.

“Another pinot noir, please,” she told the bartender, handing him her empty wineglass.

Bzz . . . Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . .

As she accepted her wineglass with a thankful smile, Desdemona briefly glanced at her cell phone vibrating against the top of the bar. Byron. Would he accept her refusal or angle for another shot?

Either way, she had made up her mind.

Dirk Blank was a brilliant actor. Unfortunately, the respect garnered for his talent did not extend to his behavior once out of character on stage or film set. His career was troubled with arrests, multiple stays in rehab, and violent outbursts on set. His life and career were heavily chronicled on gossip blogs and celebrity-centered TV programs likeE! NewsandTMZ. His talent was undeniable. Award wins. Rankings on Forbes’s list of highest paid actors. A-list privileges.

One of Desdemona’s many requirements was no drug use by paramours or consorts.

Dirk Blank seemed to be on the mend with his career on yet another upswing. She’d even read in the trades that Byron was wooing him back to the stage for his newest dramatic play. Still, she wasn’t willing to take the chance of a relapse on her watch.

Ensuring the safety and protection of her employees was at the top of her long list of duties as a madam.

Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . . Bzzz . . .

She checked the incoming text.

45:???

M.: 1 bad apple can spoil the bunch

“Two white wines, please. Thanks.”

Desdemona turned at the sound of the voice placing a drink order. She recognized it instantly. “Hello, stranger,” she said, looking at the profile of Zora Lowell.

The woman faced her, and her smile faded a bit as she stiffened her back. Her eyes shifted about the room before settling back on Desdemona as she took two steps back, giving them distance.

Shame. Desdemona recognized it well.

“You did nothing wrong, Zora, and no one knows. So, relax,” she said, giving her an encouraging smile. “It’s good to see you.”

The woman nodded and released a breath that seemed to vibrate into the air.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Desdemona said, accepting her glass of wine from the bartender and taking a sip.

“I’m an accountant at the firm that handled the counting of the votes for the awards,” she said, her eyes brimming with pride. “I’m on track to become a junior partner.”

Zora’s wide-set eyes and innocence had made her a favorite for consorts seeking to be coddled and comforted. Her dalliances had never been about wild and adventurous sex, but sweet and tender lovemaking—not every consort’s cup of tea, but for those who chose that, they paid well. After just two years she had earned enough to graduate from college debt-free and retired from service to establish herself in her accounting career.

“Not bad for a little black girl from Newark,” Desdemona said, raising her glass to toast the poised and polished young woman standing before her.

Zora licked her lips and blinked her eyes as if to fight back some emotion tied to her upbringing even as she raised one of the wineglasses she held to touch it lightly to Desdemona’s. “Are you still only taking fifty percent?” she asked, changing the subject and lightening the mood.

“The accountant in you is asking that, Zora,” she said. “What would Kitty think?”

Kitty was the name she had used as a courtesan.

“Touché,” Zora said.

Desdemona fell silent as a bald man of average height and cute looks stopped next to Zora and eased his hand on her lower back as he pressed a kiss to her temple. And in less than a few seconds, she took in their wedding rings, Zora’s unease, and the proprietary look in his eyes.

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