Chapter 49

“You know, Bob and I have been talking about forming a union and demanding better working conditions.” I extended my tongue and took a long, slow lick over the superbly toned skin of Molly’s right butt cheek, running dangerously close to the cleft.

“I thought you liked being my stocking girl.” Molly turned around and took my hands in hers. She coaxed me to standing and wrapped me in her arms. “You’re not a permanent resident, you know. If the working conditions are that bad—”

I silenced her with my lips on hers. And after a fierce battle of tongues, with my hands cupping her ass for several minutes, I think I convinced her I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Come on, I said, “Breakfast is getting cold.”

Molly dipped her chin and looked at me as if she were staring over the tops of her Wayfarers, a habit she had developed, I suppose. Her sunglasses were still on top of the chest of drawers next to where she hung her poker.

“Nothing really ever gets cold here, Miranda.”