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“Ollie, baby,” she crooned, throwing her arms around his considerable bulk. She swallowed the gag at his stench and turned it into a hiccup instead. “Thanks for inviting me. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Awesome house. Do you have a pool?”
Grace left him at the door with his mouth hanging open and stumbled inside. The place was cluttered with papers and empty coffee cups. Clothes hung haphazardly over the furniture, and empty potato chip bags were stuffed into the pocket on the side of his recliner.
“Where is everybody? This isn’t much of a party.”
“Wh…who’s Ollie?” Standridge finally stuttered out. “I think you’ve got the wrong house, lady.”
“Nope, I wrote it down. Where’d I put it?” She smiled drunkenly and clunked her bag down on the table, where she could get to her gun easily, and then fished down the front of her dress for the tiny scrap of paper hidden there. Standridge swallowed audibly as her fingers dipped inside her cleavage. God, men were so easy.
“Here it is.” Grace waved the little piece of paper under his nose and intentionally dropped it to the ground. “Oops! Let me get that, honey.” She grabbed hold of his arm and slithered down to the floor to pick it up.
She did her best to entice him without having to touch him too much. Gabe was going to owe her big for this. Standridge’s hands shook as he took the paper from her. He couldn’t take his eyes off her cleavage and was barely able to unfold it.
He glanced at the paper. “Hmm, this is the right address.” He licked his lips nervously. “But as you can see, I’m not having a party tonight.”
“Awww.” The whine in her voice was starting to grate on her nerves. She ran her fingers up over his shoulder and mussed his hair. “My friends must have written it down wrong. But I have a better idea.”
“You do?”
“You look like a fun guy, Ollie.”
“A…Allen. My name’s Allen,” he said in a rush of Frito breath that made her want to recoil.
“Allen is a very sexy name.” She grabbed him by both arms and led him into the house, trying not to trip over her feet in the ridiculous shoes. “What do you say we have our own party? Just the two of us?”
She took another swig from the champagne bottle and then handed it to him. His eyes were glazed with lust, and he was hers to do with as she pleased.
“Just the two of us?” he parroted. “Is this a joke? Did Kimball put you up to this?”
“Now, Allen, you’re going to hurt my feelings.” She pouted prettily and pushed him back into one of his dining room chairs. It was made of sturdy oak and had armrests. It was exactly what she needed. “Do I look like a joke to you?”
He landed with anoomph, and his face was practically buried in her cleavage. “N…no. No joke. Our own party.”
“Do you know my favorite game to play at a party?” Grace asked, reaching for her bag and digging around inside. She pulled out a black scarf slowly and ran it across Standridge’s overheated flesh. He was panting like a racehorse, and Grace figured she’d better tone it down a bit before he really did keel over from a heart attack. He was incapable of speech at this point. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and his face was flushed an unhealthy shade of red.
“Have you ever been tied up, Allen?”
He shook his head no and watched, eyes mesmerized, as she tied his wrist to the arm of the chair. She took another scarf out of her bag and did the same to his other wrist.
“Do you know how hot it makes me to have someone completely at my mercy?” His breath turned into a wheeze as she knelt at his feet and tied each ankle to the chair leg. She stood up and took one final scarf from her bag. “What about you, Allen? How hot does it make you to know that I can do whatever I want to you?”
Grace trailed the scarf over his shoulder as she walked behind him. Her mouth grimaced in irritation as she pulled the scarf over his eyes and noticed his fat head almost made tying it impossible.
“I c-c-c…can’t see.” The panic was ripe in his voice, but Grace knew he couldn’t break the bonds.
“No, you can’t,” she whispered against his ear. “But everything you feel will be enhanced. Just relax, Allen. You’re in good hands. Are you ready to get started?”
“Yesss.”
Grace kicked her shoes off and went to the kitchen door where Gabe waited. He rolled his eyes at her as he slipped past her and made his way over to Allen Standridge.
“Hello? Hello?” Standridge called out. “Are you still here?”
Gabe kicked out his foot and pushed the chair over. All three hundred pounds of Allen Standridge went straight back and landed like a ton of bricks on the kitchen floor. The air went out of him with awhooft,and he lay so still Grace was afraid he might be dead after all.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Gabe said, pulling off the blindfold and smacking him a couple of times on the cheek. “Let’s have a conversation.”
“My back. I think my back is broken.” Tears streaked his face, and Grace shook her head at the pitiful sight he made. She grabbed her SIG from her bag and dug around inside for the silencer. She screwed it on slowly and went to stand on the other side of the weeping man.
