Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
His thumb finds my clit. “Yes, Master. Yes…”
“Tonight I shall love you, Magpie, above the others in the crowd.”
My eyes widen. “Really? You will?”
He smiles. “I will show Cynthia and Richard how much I love my sweet bird, but first you must prove to them how much you love me. You do want to prove that to them, don’t you, Magpie? You will do this for me?”
“How?” I ask. “How can I prove that?”
He pulls his fingers from between my legs and presses them to my lips. “Enough questions,” he says. “You will see.”
His gaze has already left mine. He’s staring down at the driveway as Cynthia’s car pulls up.
I can’t stand Cynthia or Richard, although I try not to admit that to myself and certainly not to him.
“Showtime,” he says.
I only wish I wanted it as much as he does.
***
Andy
“You don’t seem all that excited, nor that optimistic. The odds are in your favour, Faye, third time lucky.” I flipped the coin between my fingers, admiring the figures who’d decide our fate for the next seven days.
Faye remained perched on the edge of her desk with her eyes on her feet. More crazy heels, more blisters no doubt. Why she insisted on wearing such ridiculous footwear for a shift behind bar was beyond me. Yet they all did it. The pull of fashion clearly knows no boundaries.
She’d been quiet these past few days, doing all the shit I set out for her without even a hint of backchat. She was efficient but distant, and I had to admit I wasn’t entirely a fan of this new Faye demeanour. Maybe common sense was giving her the battering it should have been giving me, and she was out to shove this thing we were dallying with back under the carpet, where it should have stayed. Maybe she wanted back to Italy. Maybe she wanted back to him.
And maybe I should stop wondering what the fuck Faye fucking Devere wanted.
I offered her the coin. “You can toss.”
“I tossed last time.”
“And I’m saying you can toss again. Throw, before I change my mind.”
She pulled her eyes up to mine, but there was none of the usual Faye exuberance there to greet me. “Toss, Andy. It’s fine.”
“Don’t say I didn’t offer.”
She was staring back at her shoes before I’d even thrown it. It landed in my palm, man on top. My week. My third week.
The disappointment took me aback. A definite pang of regret, even though the idea was both curious and absurd.
“Am I back on bar, then?” she asked, seemingly resigned to another week of general labour.
“It would appear not.” In a heartbeat I’d flipped the coin in my palm, shocking myself as I held it up for her to see. “Third time lucky.”
The victory seemed to rouse her. A sly smile swept across her lips, and her back straightened, shoulders high. “I win?”
I handed her the evidence, woman on top. “Yes, you win.”
She examined the figures on the coin. “You’re not going to backtrack are you? This is my week, Andy, I mean it. Fair’s fair.”
“No, Faye, I’m not going to backtrack. It’s only seven days, don’t get ahead of yourself.”
She got to her feet, arms folded, and it took just that one sorry moment for me to register the error of my ways. “I’ll be taking your desk,” she said. “You have all the important shit over there.”
“What important shit do I have that you will need access to in these seven poxy days, Faye?”
She pulled her chair over to my station and plonked herself down, staring unapologetically at the financials screen in front of me.
“That’s what I’m about to find out,” she said. “I want you to walk me through me every single thing you do for this club, Andy. Starting right now.”
Faye was like a fucking dog with a fucking bone, dipping into this and fucking that, poking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Financials, suppliers, membership procedures, marketing. She wanted the low down on the whole pissing lot of it, as if it would have ever been that simple.
“Three years,” I snapped. “You’re expecting me to walk you through three years of management. Rome wasn’t built in a day, Faye, and you aren’t going to waltz in here and take on my role in seven poxy days.”
“I’m not expecting you to walk me through three years of management, Andy, I’m expecting you to help me understand exactly what goes on around this place.”
“And what exactly about this place is it you wish to understand?”
She sighed. “Don’t make this impossible. I won the coin toss, I get my week.”
“And this week I’ll start walking you through the financials.” I opened the profit and loss spreadsheet and she slammed her hands on the desk before I’d even started.
“I’ve already got this information and you know it,” she snapped. “Show me something new.”