Daniel Thayer rolled over in bed and gazed at the woman lying next to him. She was a long, lean blonde with beautifully shaped, small, pink-tipped breasts and long, lovely legs. On the bedpost behind them was a gun and holster, within easy reach.
They had just spent an energetic half hour pleasing each other, and were both trying to catch their breath.
“So,” Thayer said, “you know what it is I want done?”
“I know,” Stephanie Kitten said.
“And you can do it?”
She smiled, wiped some sweat from her upper lip with a thumb, then licked it off.
“Oh, I can do it,” she said. “I can do lots of things.”
“Well, I know that,” Thayer said. He stood up, grabbed a blue silk robe from a nearby chair, slipped it on, and belted it. He was a man in his fifties, who kept himself in good physical shape.
Stephanie was in her thirties, a woman full of confidence in her appearance and her abilities. The two had a business relationship and—despite the fact that they had sex from time to time—no personal relationship. The sex was actually a way they had of sealing whatever deal they happened to be making at the time.
He strolled over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. He did not offer Stephanie a glass.
The blonde reclined on the bed, one knee bent, allowing the air to dry the perspiration that dappled her beautiful body. Later, when she returned to her own room, she’d have a slow, luxurious bath. She actually liked her sex the way she liked her baths, but she never got that from Thayer. He liked it quick—maybe that was because he simply couldn’t last very long. He was a virile man who kept himself in shape, and could possibly go all night if he’d take some direction from Stephanie, but she’d learned a long time ago that this man didn’t take direction from anyone. He thought being rich made him right.
Well, as long as he paid her well, Stephanie was willing to tell him what he wanted to hear.
“I need this to be done soon,” he told her.
She reached behind her to grip the bedpost, which stretched her marvelous body out. Her pink nipples were sharply distended, but Thayer was beyond being excited now. He’d already had sex with her, and he was done for the night.
“No problem,” she told him. “It’ll be done.”
“Today?”
“Well,” she said, “I have to go home and take a bath, but . . . I believe it can be done today.”
Thayer carried his brandy to a chest of drawers. He set the glass down on it, opened the top drawer, and took out a thick, brown envelope. He turned and tossed the envelope onto the bed.
“You want to count it?”
She reached for the envelope with one hand and held it, as if testing the weight.
“No need,” she said. “You’ve never shortchanged me yet.”
“All right, then,” Thayer said. “I guess we’re done here. I need to get some sleep.”
“Of course.”
She slid off the bed and reached for her clothes. Thayer picked up his brandy and watched her dress. She pulled on her jeans, buttoned her shirt, then sat on the bed and pulled on her boots. Lastly, she took the gun belt off the bedpost and strapped it on.
Actually, seeing her there wearing her gun, he did begin to get a little excited again.
She picked up the envelope full of money and tucked it into her back pocket, then grabbed her black hat and set it atop her blond hair, which hung past her shoulders.
“The job’ll be done before tonight,” she told him. “Guaranteed.”
“Okay,” he said. “If that’s true, there’ll be another envelope for you.”
She smiled and said, “I’ll look forward to it.”
He raised his glass to her and said, “Until tonight.”
* * *
Outside the Thayer’s house, Stephanie ran into her two partners, who had been waiting there since she went inside.
“The old guy was quicker than usual tonight,” Tony Black said with a grin.
“He’s not so old, Tony,” she said, “but yeah, he was quick.”
“You get the money?” Andy Choate asked.
“First half,” she said, showing them the envelope.
Tony Black was Stephanie’s age, mid-thirties. In fact, they had grown up together, were almost like brother and sister as far as she was concerned. He wanted their relationship to be more, but she just couldn’t see it. It would have been like incest, which she found disgusting. She knew some brothers and sisters who didn’t mind having sex, but that wasn’t the way she thought.
Andy Choate was like a slow cousin to them. He was younger, still in his late twenties, and did whatever they told him to do.
“So when do we do this?” Choate asked.
“Today,” she said, “but first I need a bath, and some sleep.”
“We all need some sleep,” Black said. “Andy, go home and meet us for breakfast at the usual place.”
“Okay,” Andy said. “G’night.”
As Andy walked away, Tony said to Stephanie, “I could use a bath myself.”
She knew what he meant, but she said, “Fine, you can use the water after I’m finished. That’s as close as you’re gonna get.”