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On my floor, I sprinted to my apartment like a mad woman and dashed into the bathroom. My reflection was hideous. I tugged off my wig and gasped. The water from the broken shower had soaked through my wig and wet my fucking hair.
Shit. Shit! As I scrubbed off the excessive makeup, the ticking clock in my head screamed at me to get moving.
My insides continued to throb as I jumped into the shower and cleaned myself in record time. Once I stepped out, I rubbed like fury with a towel and then blasted my hair with the hairdryer, but it was taking too long. My thick hair always took too long.
I tugged it up into a bun and hoped Mickey didn’t notice when he came back downstairs.
I re-dressed in the same clothes I’d had on when Mickey met me at reception, brushed my teeth, and after a cursory glance in the mirror, I strode out my door.
As I returned to reception, I glanced at the clock on the back wall. I’d been gone forty minutes. At three-thirty in the morning, though, no one seemed to have noticed.
I lifted the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign off the counter and slumped into the leather office chair. My shoulders sagged with relief. I closed my eyes and breathed in a few deep breaths to calm my pounding heart.
Nearly an hour later, Mickey returned to the lobby. He beamed like a man who’d inherited millions, and it was only my intense concentration that kept me as Plain Jane. But Madam Memphis was only a fraction below the surface when he reached the counter and leaned his muscular forearms on the black granite.
“Thank you.” He wriggled his eyebrows and made an exaggerated wink.
Oh crap! Does he know my dirty little secret?
My legs buckled, and I clutched the counter to keep my body upright.
Does he recognize me? I looked nothing like the woman he’d seen upstairs.
I swallowed hard and committed to continuing my ruse, I drilled confusion onto my face. “No, thank you for coming out in the middle of the night like this.”
He shook his head. “No, I mean for Memphis.”
I just about fainted with relief. “What?” I furrowed my brow.
“Memphis,” he said if we were playing a game. “The housekeeping maid who visited me in the bathroom.”
“Housekeeping doesn’t start until six a.m.,” I said, deadpan.
It was his turn to frown. “They don’t? So, who’s Memphis?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
The smile fell from his face, replaced with bewilderment as he tugged his arms from the counter. “She said her name was Memphis.” He huffed.
I shook my head and shrugged. “We don’t have anyone here by that name.”
I nearly giggled at his look of utter disappointment. “Would you like me to add you to our list of emergency plumbers?”
He nodded like an excited kid. “Put me at the top of the list. I’ll be here in a flash, any time of night or day.”
I had to resist laughing out loud as I watched Mickey’s perfect butt leave the Hot Horizon Hotel.
Within five minutes, the shock over what I’d done was replaced with how fucking good I felt. I started giggling like a truant schoolgirl.
I couldn’t wait to tell Lolita, and fortunately, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
Today was gym day.
Our morning workout was the usual punishment that Lolita commanded. She was especially tough on me today because I refused to tell her what I was smiling about until we went for coffee afterward.
I enjoyed the workout, though. Concentrating on just my body movements was excellent therapy. Not that I needed it so much these days—it seemed that I’d found my own form of therapy. . . my bedroom adventures.
I couldn’t believe I’d had twelve sexual encounters in twelve weeks.
