Rub Me the Right Way(24)

“You do?” I laced my fingers together and squeezed until my knuckles were white. The tears were gone, burned from my eyes by the anger I felt smoldering in my brain. “Why did she leave, Ben? What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me,” he said quietly, hands out, finger wagging. “I didn’t know she was going to do it, Dev, I swear.”

“Ben… don’t make me come over this table after you,” I growled. “Tell me what the fuck did Genevieve do?”

He took a deep breath and confessed it all.

I had never been so angry—or so relieved—in my entire life.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Cassandra


My assistant, Wendy, tapped lightly on the door and stuck her head in to get my attention. I was working on a motion to put before the judge the next day, the Candy Sweet divorce case preliminary depositions, which hopefully would let me get her piece of crap husband in a room under oath so I could burn the bastard at the stake. Actually, I wanted to just shove the stake up his fat ass and then set him on fire…

The poor guy, it was just bad timing on his part and bad luck for us all that he had entered my world during another of my “I hate every fucking man alive” periods, thanks to Devin McMasters. I couldn’t wait to make Roger Sweet pay through the nose for what Devin had done to me.

I imagined Lulu’s voice in my head as she recited one of her favorite sayings, “Men… They all suck… So fuck ‘em and hang ‘em high… And if they’re already hung, then fuck ‘em and let ‘em go…”

That Lulu.

She was a regular Mark Twain.

Or Mark Twat.

I glanced up with my eyebrows cocked because Wendy knew better than to bother me when I was trying to focus on work. And focusing was hard to do these days, again, thanks to the aforementioned Mr. McMasters.

No matter how hard I tried I could not get him out of my mind. Every time I closed my eyes I felt his hands on my breasts, his lips sucking my tongue, his fingers squeezing my nipples, his cock buried between my legs. I’d woken myself up every night for two weeks, soiling another pair of panties in my sleep. I had started sleeping with a maxipad between my legs just to soak up my nightly mess. Damn him. And damn me for falling for his line of bullshit.

Yoni Massage my ass… I mean… fuck it… you know what I mean.

“Yes, Wendy?”

She nodded toward the hallway behind her and said, “Cass, there’s a Mr. Chin here to see you.”

“Mr. Chin?” I wrinkled my nose at the name as my brain tried to put a face to it. “Do I know a Mr. Chin?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “He seems to know you.”

What’s it about?”

“He said it was about Paradiso?” She had one of those California accents that made every statement end in a question mark. She came over to the desk and handed me an embossed business card. BEN CHIN, DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS, PARADISO RESORT & SPA. I stared at the card for a moment, wondering what the hell that Ben Chin was doing at my office.

Wendy hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Should I show him in or ask him to make an appointment?”

I sighed and pushed away from the desk. “I could use a break. Show him in.”

“Miss Casey, so nice of you to see me without an appointment,” he said as Wendy ushered him into the office and closed the door on her way out. It took a moment for me to recognize him without his billowy white shirt and white linen slacks. He was dressed smartly in a dark blue blazer over a black shirt and expensive jeans that were made to look ragged and old. He stuck out his hand and put on a smile. I got the feeling that he wasn’t out surveying former guests for feedback from their time at Paradiso. If so, I could have really filled his ear.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Chin,” I said, directing him to one of the two red leather chairs that sat in front of my desk. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, soft drink?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine,” he said as he sat down and crossed his legs and laced his fingers around one knee. He was wearing Gucci loafers and no socks. I hated men who wore loafers without socks. They reminded me of an old boyfriend I had in law school who bragged that he didn’t own a pair of socks or underwear (we did not date for long). Regardless of how expensive the loafer is, their feet still smell like shit at the end of the day.

Ben had a nervous look in his dark eyes. For a moment, I wondered if he was there to see if I was going to file some sort of lawsuit against Paradiso. I could have probably pushed a sexual harassment suit to a nice settlement, but that would have been making money on a lie, which was not something I liked doing, although most of my clients had no problem accepting such a check. He didn’t have to worry. I didn’t need his money. And even if I did I would not go through the public embarrassment of suing an innocent man for accepting the invitation to put his cock inside me.

I sat behind the desk with my hands together in front of me and gave him a curious smile. “So, Mr. Chin, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit.”

“Please, it’s Ben.”

“Okay, Ben. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

He licked his lips and seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts, as if he were choosing his words carefully. I had only met Ben Chin once, and talked to him very briefly twice, so I didn’t really know the man from Adam. I had the sinking suspicion that Lulu had slept with him at least once, but that simply made him part of a very large, nondescript group. After a moment of awkward silence, he cleared his throat and gave me what looked like the most serious face he could muster.

“I’m afraid you’ve been lied to, Miss Casey,” he said quietly, formally. “And I am here to set the record straight.”

I wondered if Ben Chin had studied law in college, because he was certainly acting like a shady lawyer who was about to have the truth squeezed out of him. I leaned back in the chair so as not to appear too much on the offense, and spread out my hands the way I’d seen so many judges do. “Please, sir, enlighten me.”

He took a deep breath and pushed the words out over it. “Genevieve St. Claire came to visit you in your suite at Paradiso, I believe.”

I answered with a single word, the way I coached my clients to do when being questioned by opposing counsel. “Yes.”

“And she informed you that Devin McMasters was, well, how should I put it…”

“A no-good, pussy hound?” I offered.

He blinked at the words for a moment, then flashed a quick smile. “Yes, a no-good, pussy hound would probably be a fitting description. Can you tell me what else she told you?”

I crossed my arms over my breasts and frowned at him. “What’s this all about, Mr. Chin? Why are you so interested in what Genevieve St. Claire told me about Devin McMasters?”

“Because, it was probably all a lie,” he said regretfully, his expression dire.

“Probably all a lie?” I asked.

“Mostly, if not all,” he said. “If you would share with me, confidentially, of course, what Genevieve told you, I would be more than happy to confirm or deny her claims.”

I stared at his for a minute, then glanced at the door. “Did he put you up to this?”

He blinked like I was speaking a different language. “He?”

“Your pal, Mr. Chin, Devin McMasters,” I said. “Did he send you here to plead his case for some strange reason? Because if he did, you are wasting your breath and wasting my time.”

He let his eyes drop to the desk and lowered his voice. “Devin McMasters is my best friend, Miss Casey, has been for twenty-years. He used to be a very happy, very caring, very decent man, dedicated to his craft and his clients. His life revolved around the work he did and the benefit it held for others.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right.”

He looked me in the eye, but ignored my sarcasm. “You don’t understand the toll his life has taken on him, Miss Casey, the strain of the things he does, the people he helps, the people who depend on him. It’s draining to be Devin McMasters; mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally.”

“What are you trying to say, Mr. Chin?” I asked, my curiosity taking precedence over my patience. “It sounds like you are just trying to justify everything Genevieve St. Claire told me, rather than dispute it.”

“Over the last year or so I’ve seen a change in Devin. He has gone from the soulful, caring man he once was to a…”

“To a what?”

“Well… to a machine, I guess would be the best way to say it. He lives his life by rote, simply going through the motions, doing what was expected and demanded of him, living and giving his life for others while his own needs, his own chi suffered greatly. He does nothing for himself. He makes everyone else happy at the sacrifice of his own well-being.”

I rolled my eyes again, but didn’t let him see it. “Mr. Chin, what is the point of all this? If you’re worried that I’m going to sue Paradiso because Devin McMasters and I had sex, there is no need for concern. It was purely consensual. Hell, I even initiated it. I grabbed his cock while he was rubbing my cooch, so, you can tell Mr. McMasters and Miss St. Claire that they have nothing to worry about. The fact that Devin McMasters is a perverted piece of shit who preys on his paying guests is safe with me.”