Be Careful What You Wish For

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Sandra rubbed her hands together vigorously, letting the soap cut through the remnants of the massage oil.

Fat old prick.

The cheap bastard probably wouldn’t even pay her, not that she expected it. That’s what she got for agreeing to do a private appointment with a new client. At the time it seemed like a dream come true.

Edgar Williams’ secretary had said her boss was desperate, had even offered to pay twice her fee.

Of course, for what he seemed to believe a massage therapist did for a living, her price was a steal. She could still feel his fat, hairy fingers gripping her ass. Why on earth would a man like that think money could possibly be enough to make her have sex with him? She’d rather be eaten by a snake!

The pipes made a moaning noise as she shut off the faucets, and she wrinkled her nose. For a couple of lawyers, Edgar and his partner didn’t seem to make much. Their office was nothing more than an old, converted house, and it was a dump. She grabbed at the towel to wipe her hands and shuddered as her fingers hit crust. Yuck. She wiped them on her jeans instead, then turned and opened the door.

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