Page 14 of Madam, May I

“Yet to be determined,” she said, rising to stand in her black open-toe wedge heels with large bows at the ankles.

She didn’t miss that over the edge of the book his eyes lingered on her breasts sans bra with her nipples affected by the chill of the air-conditioning. “There’s a hair-thin line between employed and fired, Denzin,” she said decisively, not wanting to encourage a level of comfort in which he looked to her as a sexual object.

His eyes went back to his book.

She had no interest in bedding Denzin and wanted him to return the favor in kind.

Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.

She picked up her iPhone. She frowned a bit as she answered the call. “Yes?” she asked, walking out of the kitchen via the French doors to the rear porch. The night did nothing to keep the summer heat from immediately pressing against her body.

“I didn’t sign up for a threesome.”

Desdemona frowned. “And I didn’t arrange one,” she said, her voice filled with steel. “Where are you?”

“I’m in one of the bathrooms. I lied and told them I had to shower first.”

“Door locked?” she asked, as she paced the length of the porch.

“Definitely.”

Desdemona had sent Neesa on a session with Reverend B. C. Hines, a married televangelist of a megachurch in Atlanta with forty thousand members in his congregation and reportedly $80 million in annual revenue. “You dressed?”

“Yes.”

“Leave the hotel suite while I’m on the phone,” she said, waving her hand as something lightly flew against her cheek.

“Actually, this is the only night I’m working and—”

“You need the payment,” Desdemona finished, reentering the house.

“Yes.”

“I’m on the way,” she said, grabbing the envelopes, cash, and her other items to dump into her tote before she strode past the island and ended the call.

“Everything good?” Denzin asked, closing his book again and rising to his feet.

Desdemona nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

She made her way to the elevator and rode up to the second floor. She had a full house. All three bedrooms were occupied. The father and pair of sons were celebrating their pharmaceutical company’s recent $32 billion acquisition of its largest competitor.

She stopped at each door and dropped an emerald envelope in each plastic wall file holder attached to the wood with removable adhesive. Normally, the paramours collected the remaining fee beyond the profit on the dress purchase and the deposit before the session started and left the cash in white envelopes on the door for her to retrieve and divide. Green envelopes indicated everything in it was meant for them plus whatever tip their consorts gave them.

She skipped the elevator and quickly descended the rear steps to reach the hall leading from the mudroom to the back of the kitchen. She activated the automatic starter of her vehicle as she strode across the mudroom to the door leading into the three-car garage. Her Maserati crossover awaited her.

Behind the wheel, she dialed number twelve on her contact list. It rang once before Reverend Hines answered. “Which is the commandment about stealing?” she calmly asked.

He chortled.

“And before you start, there are no TV cameras and you are not in your pulpit, so save me the bible verses and hallelujahs,” she inserted dryly.

His chuckles ceased. “Mademoiselle—”

“Who are your colleagues?” she asked.

“Two good servants of the Lord—”

She sighed heavily. “Rev, please play with your congregation and not me?” she asked.

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