Because you care, moron…
Because you’ve never forgotten him…
Because you’ve never stopped hoping that someday you would meet him again…
And now you have…
So, Cassandra Casey, what comes next?
“Beats the shit out of me,” I said as I tossed the sheet aside and strutted naked to the shower. Thinking about Devin had caused the little tingle in my cunt to build to an itch. Maybe I’d have a little morning delight with Devin’s homemade soap. Then, I’d worry about what came next.
* * *
I took a shower at Devin’s villa, made myself happy with his special soap, then went back to our suite to look for Lulu and put on fresh clothes for the day. I had stuffed the panties I’d worn the day before—which were crusty and stank to high heaven—in a trashcan outside on the patio. I hoped they wouldn’t attract a bear, but there was no way I was going to bring them back to the room for Lulu to make fun of. I did not need “Cassandra Stinky Panties” added to the list of nicknames Lulu had given me over the years, whether deserved or not.
I found Lulu in the dining room, finishing off a short stack of pancakes and sipping English tea. She gave me the curious eye as I sat down and flagged over the waiter to order scrambled eggs, bacon, a side of wheat toast, orange juice and coffee.
“What?” I asked as the waiter filled my coffee cup before walking away.
“Where were you all night?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me. “I almost came looking for you in the middle of the night, but then I just went back to sleep.”
“Your concern is overwhelming,” I said, rolling my eyes. There were a dozen women scattered about the other tables. They kept glancing our way, some giving me hard stares of jealousy while others pointed and whispered. I blew out a long sigh and smiled. “Let’s just say I was being… entertained.”
Lulu gave me a sideways look and lowered her voice. “You spent the night with him?” Her mouth dropped open like a broken mailbox door. “You weren’t supposed to spend the night with him. Oh my god…”
I stirred creamer into my coffee and frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Can we help you?” She shot daggers with her eyes at a table of women who were practically leaning in to eavesdrop. The women quickly got up and walked away, as if they were scurrying away from a bar fight, which was actually a pretty good analogy knowing Lulu.
“You spent the night with Devin McMasters?” she asked.
I smiled from over the coffee cup. “I thought that’s what The One did,” I said, shrugging with my eyes like it was no big deal. “Spent the night rubbing her Yoni all over the Master’s cock and balls.”
“No fucking way,” she screamed, covering her mouth with her hands. “You seriously slept with him? You spent the whole night in his bed?”
I frowned because her astonishment confused me. I set the cup on the table and leaned in to lower my voice in hopes she would lower hers. “Do you remember the story I told you about the boy from UCLA? The one with the big cock and the massage fetish?” Lulu’s eyes widened. Her head bobbed slowly. “That was Devin McMasters.”
“Holy shit,” she said again. She reached across the table to grab my hands. “You slept with Devin McMasters before he was Devin McMasters?”
“Shhh…. I did,” I said proudly, ignoring the stares of the women sitting at a table by the window. “And I slept with him afterward, too.”
“Okay,” she said, pulling her hands back so the waiter could deliver my food. “Eat your breakfast, quickly, then tell me everything.”
“Everything?” I asked, sticking out my tongue, curling it slowly across my top lip.
“Yes, you horny bitch,” she said, a devious smile on her face. “EVERYTHING!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Devin
“Devin, darling,” Genevieve said in her heavily-accented English as I strolled into Ben’s office to find her sitting behind his desk. She was still beautiful in her sixties; thin but not skinny, perfectly-coiffed hair that looked naturally blonde, flawless skin, perfect makeup (her companion Pascal was also her makeup artist and hair stylist, quite convenient), bright blue eyes, pert lips, dazzling white teeth. Other than tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, she didn’t look a day over forty-five.
She was dressed to the nines in a royal blue designer pants suit and white silk blouse. Her ears, fingers, wrists, and neck dripped with expensive jewels that our partnership had afforded her.
Ben was sitting in one of the highbacked visitor’s chairs in front of the desk with his legs crossed and a cup of coffee perched precariously on his knee. He glanced at me when I came in, but didn’t say anything. I could see that his eyes were tight with tension. His lips were pulled back across his teeth in a smile that looked painful to hold. Ben wasn’t a fan of Genevieve and she was not a fan of his. I spent as much time keeping the peace between the two as I did trying to avoid them.
Genevieve held out her hand like the queen she was and turned her cheek to me. I cupped her long fingers in my hand, kissed her jeweled knuckles, then leaned down to kiss her cheeks without actually touching them. She gave me time to pour myself a cup of coffee from the service on the desk and get situated in the chair next to Ben before starting the sermon.
“So, where have you been?” she asked.
I took a careful sip of coffee and gave her a little shrug. “I’ve been good,” I said. I glanced around the room. “Where is Pascal? Will we not be graced with his presence this weekend?”
“Pascal is waiting for me in San Diego,” she said, leaning forward to put her elbows on the desk. She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. She gave me a look that walked the line between smugness and condescension. What Ben called, “her resting bitch face.”
“Pity, we will miss seeing him, won’t we, Ben,” I said with a smile. Ben didn’t answer. His focus seemed to be on the coffee cup balancing on his knee rather than the pending conversation. I got the feeling he’d been preached to already and had remained just to watch me squirm.
Genevieve said, “Pascal is waiting in San Diego because I’m speaking there this weekend at a women’s awareness seminar. He is getting everything ready for me.”
“Women’s awareness of what?” I asked.
She blinked at me. “Pardon?”
“You said you were speaking at a women’s awareness seminar,” I said, feigning interest. I looked at Ben, trying to pull him into the game, and pushed my eyebrows up. “I’m just wondering what women need to be aware of. Wouldn’t you like to know that, Ben, so you could be aware of it, too?”
I saw her right eye twitch, which was a sign that she was not amused. She forced a smile and studied me with her eyes. “You’re certainly in a good mood this morning.” She cut her eyes at Ben. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“I’d like to know that, too,” Ben said, lifting the coffee cup from his knee and setting it on the desk. He turned in the chair to face me. “Devin, would you like to tell us what the fuck’s going on with you?”
If they expected to see me squirm they were going to be sorely disappointed. I wasn’t there to squirm. I was there to do something I had lacked the balls to do before rediscovering Cassandra Casey. Actually, it wasn’t a lack of balls. It was a lack of reason. Before Cassandra magically reappeared into my life, I had no reason to do anything other than go through the motions I had perfected to a fine art over so many years. I had stumbled through life blindly. Cassandra had opened my eyes.
“Devin,” Genevieve whispered urgently. “My darling, what is it? Are you ill? Are you in trouble? Have you done something horrible that we should know about?”
I smiled and shook my head, flattered and amused by her alarm for me, or more to the point, for the business we shared.
“It’s really quite simple,” I said, lifting my cup to them. “I’m retiring. Effective right now.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected them to do or say after the words left my lips. I supposed I expected Ben to get angry and break things and Genevieve to faint or perhaps fake a heart attack. But they didn’t say a word. They didn’t move a muscle. They just looked at me, frozen, as if they were waiting for the punchline of a very bad joke.
“Well?” I asked, still smiling but finding it hard to hold.
Genevieve broke the awkward silence. She rested her forehead on her knuckles and sighed. “I was afraid this was coming.” She looked up at Ben and ignored me. “You were right to be concerned, Ben. Forgive me for doubting you.”
“No apology necessary,” Ben said directly to Genevieve without looking at me. “I told you. He’s burning out.” He said it as if he were pronouncing my death. He leaned forward in the chair and put his elbows on his knees and hung his head. “I saw the signs, I knew he wasn’t happy, but I hoped it was temporary. Dammit…”
“Guys, I’m sitting right here,” I said, feeling like a ghost at his own funeral. I punched Ben in the arm. “Fucking cut that shit out. You’re freaking me out.”