Page 17 of Madam, May I

Desdemona wondered if she lacked trust in her husband and that was the impetus for the surprise trip.Smart woman.

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

She was thankful when their rough cries filtered through the door as the thumping increased in speed.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

“Finish strong, Rev,” she mouthed with an eye roll as she stood, dropping her iPhone into her tote as she flipped open his burner phone and checked it. No calls or contact info except hers. “Good.”

“I’m going to order us some dinner,” Reverend Hines said. “Go shower. The bedroom suite is right through that door.”

“Just order me a salad,” she said.

Just get me the hell out of here.

The doorknob turned, and Desdemona reached for it to pull the door open wide. He stood in the doorway with his robe still open. She gave him a slow up and down look and shook her head before pushing past him to open the front door and leave him, his wife, and his uncircumcised penis behind for good.

His chuckles reached her just before he closed the door.

She stopped, turned, and pushed the door open as she pulled her baton from her pocket, snapping her wrist to extend it. His eyes widened in surprise just before she brought the baton up between his open legs against his hanging testicles.

She chuckled. “Laugh now, Rev,” she said.

“Bartholomew, bring my suitcase,” his wife called from the next room.

Desdemona lightly tapped his privates once more before turning and walking away as she continued to laugh, striking the baton against the floor to retract it and then she dropped it inside her tote.

The last laugh on me? Never.

* * *

Desdemona stepped inside the Barnes and Noble in Tribeca and looked around at an environment that was foreign to her. The abundance of books overwhelmed her. Stacked on shelves. Lining the shelves. Seemingly to the ceiling. Everywhere.

“Welcome to Barnes and Noble. Can I help you?”

She smiled at the thin, tall Latin man with spectacles and his store ID hanging from a black lanyard around his slender neck as she raked her fingers through her hair deeply enough to stroke her scalp to ease the anxiety she felt. “Uhm, yes, I was looking for the bookFahrenheit 451,” she said, hating the nervousness she felt.

“That’s right over here,” he said.

She wrung her hands as she followed behind him.

After leaving the Ritz-Carlton she hadn’t wanted to go back to her apartment for another night of checking in on the safety and cash drops by her courtesans. She thought of Denzin’s interest in the book and wondered if it could help stave off the boredom claiming her lately.

Or would it make it worse?

“Thank you, Carlos,” she said, reading his name tag as she took the hardcover book he handed to her and clutched it to her chest.

“Can I recommend some other fiction titles for you?” he asked.

“Trust me. One book is a big enough leap,” she quipped.

He chuckled and held up his hands. “No pressure,” he said. “We don’t close until ten, so feel free to enjoy your book in our café. The stuffed pretzels are awesome.”

Desdemona turned and looked toward the eatery that had the air around it swelling with the scents of sweets and coffee. Although her stomach rumbled in hunger, she decided to save her appetite for orecchiette pasta with a veal Bolognese sauce she planned to order a la carte from room service once she was in her condominium.

She eyed four women in their mid-thirties laughing and enjoying each other’s company in between sips of caramel macchiato and pointing out sections from their individual copies of a book. “No thank you. I’m good,” she finally said in response to him.

One of the women looked over and caught Desdemona’s eyes on them. She instantly turned away, feeling like a loner caught peering at the popular girls in school.

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