The Lineup(31)

“Are you serious right now? You’re not going to water their plants because of, and I quote, ‘all those leaves’?”

“Yup. I’m good.”

“You have got to be—”

Her sentence is cut short when the elevator makes an abrupt stop, jostling both of us into the walls of the small carrier.

“Huh, would you look at that?” I glance around the small room, wondering what’s wrong.

“No, no, no,” Dottie says over and over again, as she rushes to the panel and presses the emergency button.

When nothing happens, she presses all the other buttons.

“That’s intelligent,” I say, arms crossed and observing her from behind. “Confuse the damn thing so it has no idea what to do.”

She doesn’t answer, but instead pulls her phone out from her purse and starts holding it up in the air, searching for a signal.

“It’s cute that you think raising the phone higher will grant you service. We’re in a metal box surrounded by concrete, sweetheart. I never get reception in here.”

“Damn it,” she mutters, stuffing her phone back in her purse.

“Looks like you’re stuck here with me until someone figures out the elevator broke, so it’s best you get comfortable.” I sit on the floor and then pat my lap. “You can sit right here.”

“I’d rather lick the elevator floor.”

“There’s a disgusting visual. Suit yourself.”

I get comfortable and start rifling through my bag of food. Thank God I grabbed dinner before this, because I’m starving, and if I was stuck in this elevator with no food, I’d be a raging bastard, bashing his head against the metal door from pure hunger.

Low blood sugar does crazy things to me.

I bring the term hangry to a new level.

There’s only—

“Why are you smiling like that?”

I look up at her. “Smiling like what? I’m just being normal.”

“No, you’re smiling like you’re having a conversation inside your head and you think you’re funny.”

How would she know that?

“Well, I am funny.” I pop open my to-go box filled to the brim with a Philly cheesesteak sandwich and tons of fries. Staring at it, I say, “Oh yes, come to papa.”

I lift half of the sandwich and bring it to my mouth just as Dottie says, “It’s rude to eat in front of someone who doesn’t have food.”

“Are you calling me rude?”

“Yes, I am.” She folds her arms over her chest, staring at me as if I’m minced meat.

“That’s funny. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you saying I’m rude?”

I laugh. Does she really have no clue? She has been mean and ill-tempered every time we’ve spoken. In fact, there hasn’t been a moment where she’s been . . . nice. Although my teasing hasn’t helped her surly attitude, I’m sure. “Babe, you’ve been rude to me since the minute I walked into your office.”

“Because I needed to work and couldn’t afford the distraction.”

I shake my head. “No, because someone was doing something nice for you and instead of saying thank you, you ignored them, took their food, and then kicked them out.”

Her lips work to the side and I can see her mulling it over. Huh, maybe I actually got through to her and penetrated that thick, leathery exterior and truly made her consider the way she treats people.

“You were rude by not adhering to my wish of leaving, therefore, I had to be rude to get my point across. I didn’t want you there.”

Fucking businesswoman, what a spin. I’ve got to hand it to her—mentally claps—she really dug deep for that one.

“Yeah, okay, I was rude first. Sure.” I roll my eyes and then take a giant bite of my sandwich. The cheese seeps into my taste buds, and if Dottie wasn’t here right now, I’d be eating this sandwich naked . . . while gripping my cock. That’s how good it is.

This is a cock-gripping sandwich—or pussy-cupping sandwich if you’re a lady. I’m an equal opportunist, after all.

“Are you really not going to share that?”

I look up, sandwich halfway to my mouth. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I’m hungry too; who knows how long we’ll be stuck in here.”

“After everything that has happened between us, you really think I’m going to share my sandwich with you?”

“If you are the decent man you claim to be, then yes, you will.”

Isn’t she just a joy to be around?





The pop of fingers being licked and sucked echoes off the small walls of the elevator as I stare blankly at Dottie. She just devoured half my sandwich and three quarters of my fries. I’m currently sitting here with a bellyache from having to shovel my sandwich down fast enough so it wasn’t snatched from my grasp in the midst of her treating my dinner like her own bitch.

And despite seeing cheese drip from her chin, and watching her carnivorous teeth break apart the cheesesteak meat as if it was dust, I still got hard taking in what I can only describe as a spectacle—Dottie eating a meal.

With a dainty lift of her napkin, she pats the corners of her mouth and sighs.