3 Months Later
“Yes, that’s right. The soonest I can fit you in is a week from next Tuesday.” Olivia stretched out her long, shapely legs across the rich mahogany of her desk as she tried to keep her day planner from sliding off her lap. “Ok, I will pencil you in for 2pm, and I promise I will call you if I have a cancellation.”
“Like hell I will,” she muttered to herself under her breath. She had been so busy with clients that she hadn’t had a day off for six weeks. Her erotic massage business had taken off so quickly she barely had time to sleep anymore, let alone eat. She glanced critically at her chest, noting a slight gap between her soft bosom and the exquisite lace of her La Perla bustier. If she had a cancellation she was going to march her fine yet diminishing ass down to Buster’s Buffet and shovel a week’s worth of calories into her sexy, pouty mouth.
A knock on the door stirred her from her fantasy of fried chicken, mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, and every flavour of cheesecake ever invented. She glanced at her planner and immediately all thoughts of food vanished. The name M Whitman stared back up at her.