The Lake

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Verna Lavette clapped her hands.

“My favorites!” she squealed.

Almond marzipan, walnut whirls, and those scrummy caramel creams…

“Oh, thank you, she said, her chubby face wreathed in smiles.

“No problem, sugar,” the man said. “My pleasure—as always.”

Verna looked sheepish. “Can I have one, now? Before…”

“Sure. Have one, two, or three. Makes no difference, but…” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Best make it snappy. No time to lose.”

Sucking on a caramel cream, Verna looked at her benefactor. Well, she pondered, he ain’t really my benefactor. I give him plenty, in return for his dough—ooh, yes, and the candy. Don’t forget the candy.

She made a face.

Sure, she did her bit.

Got the scars to prove it, too.

Yessir. All things considered, the Candyman got pretty much what he wanted.

He must like what I do—and how I do it, she told herself. Keeps a-comin’ back for more.

Like now.

The room was dark except for the anglepoise spotlight by her bed. He was telling her to take off her slip, all slow and sexy, like Marilyn Monroe.

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