Page 92 of Madam, May I

He would be such a good father.

Desdemona gasped at that thought. “What is wrong with me?” she asked herself, her eyes wide as something so unfamiliar to her tugged at her. A longing for that forever love between a mother and a child. She envisioned Loren holding her from behind with his hands splayed on the round belly carrying their child.

She pushed it away. “Nah, I’m good, love. Enjoy,” she said, but the longing still lingered.

Desdemona hurriedly scrolled some more. “The biggest mistake you can make is holding on to someone who has already let you go,” she read the meme he retweeted [email protected].

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at the date. March fourth. “Oh, Lo,” she said, feeling her heart melt. “I wish Icouldforget you.”

She went back to the post of him in the suit and pressed her finger and thumb against the screen, spreading them to enlarge the picture. She pressed her bare lips to the screen and shook her head as she accepted that somewhere along the line Loren Palmer had made a way into her heart, and she loved him.

Chapter Thirteen

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Have I sold my soul . . . and if so, did I charge enough?

Desdemona fed the cash counter another stack of bills as she smoothed the hair that slipped from her loose topknot, more from habit than necessity. She eyed the television, taking in the lone occupied bedroom of the mansion as she sipped from a glass of wine.

On the second level, in the master bedroom, she eyed Liam Franks and Paulette Reeves talking as he massaged her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her nape when she lowered her head. They made a beautiful couple physically.

Liam was tall and in good shape, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Paulette was a tanned and shapely size twelve with every bit of it in the right places.

It was one of her consorts who had referred Liam to her, speaking of the forty-five-year-old’s desire to gather enough funds to make a comeback after being disgraced as a stockbroker, fired after being investigated for insider trading. Paulette, a well-known lesbian actress and high-profile activist for gay rights, liked to be sexed by a man twice a year and came to Desdemona for the privacy to do so—never wanting the same man twice.

They were both single and had really good chemistry. If not for his current career and her inclination toward a serious relationship with women, they would have made a good couple.

She turned the volume up on them.

“Dildos are hard but not hot, and I like the heat of a stiff one sometimes,” Paulette said in her raspy voice as she turned to reach for Liam’s crotch.

She closed out the screen displaying them just as he roughly snatched her body to his and kissed her like he was hungry. She didn’t watch or record the sexual activities or conversations of those who trusted her—unless it was a part of their kink.

As the shuffling of the money in the machine came to an end, she looked down at yet another stack in her hand and then the bundles of cash on the desk. She thought of the money in safe deposit boxes in banks and the safes in her home. Those spread out across prepaid debit cards and the one valid banking account connected to her online boutique and showroom.

She had nearly five million dollars tucked away, not including the value of her condo and furnishings, her vehicles, the inventory of her dress boutique, her diamond jewelry collection, furs, and designer items.

When is enough enough?

The money was good, but not easy. Juggling never was. There was no part of her life that felt complete. A little time here and a little there. Spreading crumbs of herself but never a full meal. Feeling as if she cheated herself. Not enough time. Not enough sleep. Exercise. Sex. Joy. Fulfillment. Freedom.

“I need more of all of it,” she said aloud, leaning forward in her chair to reach for her glass of wine.

“Security alert. Front gate.”

She sipped her wine and set the glass down while she fed the counter and looked to the television screen showing Yolanda “Tasty” Norton entering her visitor code to unlock the gate.

She put the cash counter back in the drawer and dumped the bundled cash into her tote bag before closing the hidden door to the fireplace. She replaced her heels and double-checked her hair and makeup in the mirror over the pedestal sink in the adjoining bath. With one last look around her haven, she reclaimed her seat behind the desk and watched via the security screen as Denzin ended his run on the treadmill in the exercise room in the basement. He made his way upstairs and to the front door.

Bzzzzzz.

She looked at the three iPhones on her desk. One for business, one for personal usage, and the last for Portia. She picked up the one in the bright pink case. A text.

PORTIA: Have 2 cancel dinner. Picked up eXtra hrs @ work. #SchmoneyGang

Desdemona smiled at the cash emojis as she simply replied with the “ok” emoji. She’d been trying to spend more time with Portia, but if work called and she chose to answer, there was no fault to be found in that. She was fighting like hell to ensure Portia stayed out of the pussy game.

Knock-knock-knock.

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