Page 39 of X's and O's

The man’s mouth dropped open. “You always say you finished!”

“I lie, Ethan! There’s only so much of you rubbing around down there that I can handle!”

I hid another laugh, changing up the question I’d asked Ethan before I’d gone down on him. “You gonna punch me if I suck your pussy and show him how it’s done?”

I don’t think I’d ever seen a woman shake their head so quickly.

I nodded at the bed. “Panties off. Get on the bed.”

An hour later, I tucked a thousand dollars into my wallet and set down one of my business cards on the bedside table. The card was simple. White with black text announcing my legal name, Wyatt DeLeon, and my phone number.

Just in case Fiona and Ethan wanted to tell their friends about me. Since all my business came from word of mouth, leaving my cards for my clients to hand around was an integral part of my marketing strategy.

Or really, the only marketing strategy I had, since people tended to frown upon putting up billboards for classes on how to give your woman an orgasm.

Fiona and Ethan were still naked in their hotel room bed, both wrapped up in white sheets and sleeping off the multiple orgasms they’d had, both at my hands and each other’s.

I hadn’t come. I never let myself, even if I had to fuck someone during one of their sessions. I might get hard. That was more of a biological response than anything else. But finishing felt intimate in a way that wasn’t part of my job.

I hit the ground floor button on the elevator, and the doors binged closed. My phone buzzed with an incoming text at the same time.

Not the phone in the pocket of my suit pants that I used to call my mother or order pizza.

I groaned, pulling out the burner I always had in the briefcase I carried around, which made hotel employees think I was just a businessman here for work and not anyone they needed to pay attention to.

The number was unknown, but it always was.

I didn’t even know why I bothered looking at it. Only one very small group of people had that number.

I need a meeting.

I breathed out slowly. So much for spending my evening with a glass of scotch and a hockey game.

I got in my car and steered it toward Doc’s place, wondering who was on struggle street tonight.

At least it wasn’t me this time.

I suspected it was probably X. He’d been off his rocker more than usual after his last kill.

But when I got to the fancy apartment in the richest part of Providence, X seemed about as in control of himself as he ever did.

I sat beside him on one of the folding chairs Doc brought out for our meetings. “You good?”

X glanced over at me. “I’m good in the sense I don’t feel the need to kill anyone right now. But I’m not good in the sense I can’t help but notice you’re wearing another suit.”

“Work’s been busy.”

“I hear the lion taming industry is really exploding.”

“It is.”

X shifted so he was facing me. “Seriously. What is it that you actually do? You a lawyer?”

“Nope.”

“Accountant.”

“Nope.”