Page 20 of Sticky Fingers
“Collections?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Acquisitions?” I respond.
“You give me too much credit, Malcolm,” she says with a laugh, but I can feel her arm freeze up. “I’m way too poor to be collecting.”
“Who needs money?” I ask, stopping and looking at her dead in the eyes.
“It’s usually a requisite.”
“Maybe there’s a discount you can get?” I ask.
Our conversation is a dance. Our banter is the prelude to sex. I can feel it.
“A discount for me?” she asks, innocently.
“The kind that comes with five fingers,” I say.
There. I fucking said it.
Sonia stares at me for a long moment.
“Have you lived here long, Mr. Push?” she asks.
“A few years,” I say casually, wondering where she’s going with this. “You?”
I can’t imagine she’s lived here long, considering I’ve never seen her before. A fucking hot piece of ass like this would definitely get my attention.
“No, just a little over a month. I was fortunate to know the previous owner, and he offered it to me before it hit the market.” She smiles up at me slowly. “Everyone has been so friendly.”
The lobby bar has only one other couple at the other end as I pull out a chair for her. Just a hint of perfect white teeth shows as she turns and slides into the seat. My eyes are then drawn to the perfect shape of her breasts, and I hold my breath as I imagine how it would feel to have my cock trapped between them.
Fuck, I need to focus.
I order a scotch neat for me and a French 75 for her.
“My friend Taylor helped me get my place when I first moved in. It’s very centrally located, and I liked the convenience,” I say.
“Helps you stay aware of everything?”
“I know most of everything that goes on around me.”
“You seem like the kind of man that hates mysteries.”
“I hate them.”
“So, when you find one you need to solve it?” she asks.
“I can’t leave it alone,” I tell her. “Especially when my head is on the chopping block.”
“Oh?”
“When something goes missing and the cops blame me, it’s not about the mystery anymore,” I say to her. “Usually, it means I’m out to deliver someone’s head.”
“Now, why would they go about and blame you, babe?” Sonia asks with an evil grin. “Were you being naughty?”
I grunt. She does the dance very, very fucking well.
Taking a long sip of my scotch, I look at her over the top of my glass. She mimics me, taking a leisurely sip of her own drink and gazing at me; her eyes widen questionably, and we both smile as we lower our glasses.
