BLIND: A Mastermind Novel (25 page)

I have a treat for you, Ms. Farrow. Let’s hope you’ve done what I’ve asked and it wasn’t too distressing. I’ve arranged a suite for you in the penthouse. You will be the only guest, so fear not. Dinner shall be provided as well as attire for tomorrow. Mr. Pennyworth is at your disposal should you choose to leave at anytime. Otherwise, he will be delivering you to work in the morning.

See you soon.

Mr. Stone

A.R.

She scanned the lobby, hoping he would stand out to her.

“Are you ready, Ms. Farrow?”

“Where are we going?”

“You have an appointment at the spa.”

“I do?”

Pennyworth grinned and nodded. “Allow me to escort you.”

She took his arm and they walked through the lobby, down a long corridor decorated with lavish flower arrangements, and entered a lobby on the other side of the building. A divine glass elevator was the centerpiece of the cathedral foyer.  They stepped inside and Pennyworth instructed the attendant as to where they were going.

As the elevator rose, she glanced at all the finely dressed guests wandering around below. This was insane. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. She fought the urge to call Nicole and play a game of
Guess where I am!
But who would believe her?

The bell softly chimed and the doors opened. The soft aroma of herbs and incense met her nose as they pressed through the opaque doors to the spa. Pennyworth touched a hand to her back and guided her inside.

“What are we doing here?
”
Was she getting her hair done? Her nails? It was impossible not to let the girlie lobe of her brain go nuts and twitter like a princess at the idea of being treated to such a luxury.

“A massage, I believe.”

A massage! The last time she had a massage was just before Nicole and Matt’s wedding. She was suddenly grateful she’d shaved that morning.

Giddy, she waited beside Pennyworth as he spoke to the woman behind the counter. “You can come with me, Ms. Farrow,
”
the woman invited.

Scarlet glanced to Pennyworth who assured, “I’ll be waiting here when you’re finished. Enjoy.”

There was no hiding her smile. Flowers, and now this? She was in heaven.

The spa attendant showed her where she could keep her belongings and instructed her to change into the fluffy black robe provided. As she undressed, she giggled, her mind painting Mr. Stone as the witch from
Hansel and Gretel
, fattening her up in a very schmoozing way.

Once in her robe and slippers, she exited the dressing room and found the masseuse waiting. The woman led her to a private room with a table and dim lighting. Tinkling chimes played from hidden speakers.

“You can hang the robe there and lie face down on the table. Cover yourself with this sheet and place the gel mask over your eyes.
”
She quietly left the room.

Scarlet took a few seconds to appraise the room. This was a lot nicer than the place she’d taken Nicole. Beside the table was a small shelf with potions and lotions she didn’t recognize.

Her slippered feet shuffled to the hook on the wall and she untied her robe, identifying that nervous moment of exposure when she feared someone might burst in and catch sight of her naked body.

Luckily, this week had enriched her audacity in that department. She’d done as Mr. Stone asked and slept nude. The first night was embarrassing, even though no one was there to witness the display. The second night she stripped hadn’t seemed as outlandish.

She was far from becoming an exhibitionist, but she realized there was a sort of extravagance to sleeping without any clothes. The blankets became a bit softer and her slumber seemed a tad more restful. It was an extremely freeing and comfortable way to sleep once she got over her fears of being caught in the buff.

Slipping off the robe, she quickly moved to the table and awkwardly climbed onto her belly. Her heart raced, sensing the masseuse would return any second. She jerked the sheet over her body. It was larger than she suspected, covering everything between her back and her ankles.

Leaning up on her elbows, she found the gel mask at the head of the table and slipped it on. Blindfolded again. She had a silent chuckle.

Sacrificing her sight was no longer as scary as it had been. The gel in the padded mask was cool. Settling her face in the hole at the top of the table, she waited.

Her heartbeat slowed, as the threat of someone walking in while she was uncovered no longer existed. The gentle melody piping from hidden speakers took her to a place of relaxation and her muscles gradually unclenched as she settled in for some first rate pampering.

The door opened with barely a sound. Scarlet’s mind had drifted and she was reaching a very Zen place where even the slightest intrusion seemed miles away.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Farrow.”

Zen gone.

Every muscle in her body drew up tight and she jerked. What was he doing there? A hand pressed gently into her rising shoulders.

“Easy, Ms. Farrow.
”
Mr. Stone whispered, applying a touch of pressure until she lowered her face back into the opening.

“What are you doing here?
”
Her voice was oddly high pitched, but muffled. She was
naked!
Covered, but naked all the same.

He chuckled. “Do you like your gift?”

She did a second ago. Now she wasn’t so sure. Where the hell did the lady go? How did he get in there?

He tsked. “You don’t seem very grateful.”

“What? I am—but—
you’re in here!”

“Shh, take a breath. I’d offer you wine, but I didn’t bring any. I assume you received your flowers?”

She couldn’t relax. Forcing a grateful tone to her voice, she mumbled into the table, “Thank you. They were lovely.”

“My pleasure. Now, I have two options for you. Listen carefully, Ms. Farrow.
”
His finger trailed over her shoulder. Tense muscles danced beneath his touch. “I can send Helga back in and she can give you a very relaxing massage or we can have a chat while I do the job. The choice is yours, but keep in mind, one would please me very much over the other.”

She couldn’t breathe. She was naked.
Naked!
And Mr. Stone was touching her! It was obvious he didn’t want Helga to do the job, but he wouldn’t force her to undergo his touch without being certain it was invited. What the hell kind of place was this?

All she could think about were those dodgy happy ending places the cops were always busting on the news. Was this one of them?

“Scarlet, I sense you’re working yourself into quite a panic. Take a breath and make a decision. Either way, all you’re getting is a massage. No one is planning to behave in an untoward manner.”

Untoward? Seriously? He was in her massage room! She whimpered.

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. Was that a ‘Helga
’
or a ‘Why, yes, Mr. Stone, I’d be delighted if you were the one to touch me’?
”

She shivered. How did he manage to take her decisions and flip them on end every single time? She’d been fully convinced she wanted him to touch her, hoping and praying he’d soon kiss her. Every time he grazed even the knuckles of her hand she melted. Yet, now, here he was, offering to run those powerful hands all over her body and she was debating telling him
no
?

Would saying no be like declining Pennyworth’s escort? Would it end the game? She didn’t want that. She could do this. Instinct told her if he crossed a line, all she’d have to do was breathe the word
stop
and he would. Besides, there were people out there and no one was speaking above a whisper. She could always scream if she was in danger.

“I choose you, Mr. Stone,
”
she mumbled.

“Pardon?
”
His clothes rustled as he leaned close. She smirked. The son of a bitch had managed to get her blindfolded this time too.

She sighed. “You.
”
She was never going to see him.

A soft caress ghosted over the back of her hair. “I’m pleased, Ms. Farrow.”

At least one of them was. Throat tight, she anxiously waited for him to begin. All of her peaceful musings disappeared. Every nerve was on high alert, every muscle suddenly tensing.

“Try to relax, Ms. Farrow.”

She laughed. “I can’t.”

“Try.”

The whisper of hands chaffing together tickled her ears. As the sheet lifted off of her shoulders and was folded back, she shivered. Warm hands, coated in oil pressed into her upper body. “You’re very tense. Why is that?”

“Um
…
I’m
naked
.”

“Have you done as I asked?”

He was referring to her going to bed without clothing. Her skin heated—not from the oil. “Yes.”

“Good girl.
”
His palms glided over the slope of her shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the locked muscles and working them loose. “How did you feel, taking off your clothes in the privacy of your bedroom?”

She sighed. His touch was incredible, but also nerve racking. Trying to relax and accept the situation, she confessed, “Silly.”

“Why silly?
”
His low voice was a needed distraction from his touch.

“I’m not used to being naked.”

“You’re naked now.”

I know.

A few minutes passed without talking as he presumably allowed his assessment of her nude state to settle in. Her body mildly relaxed, as she slowly grew accustomed to his touch. The pressure was good, not too hard, yet firm. His large hands were warm against her flesh.

The sheet drifted over her shoulders as his fingers cradled her arm, extending it away from the table as he rubbed his palms past her elbow and massaged the joints of her fingers. “You have very dainty fingers, Ms. Farrow.”

She’d never survive an hour of this. Would it be an hour? Wasn’t that how long massages typically lasted?

Lacing his large fingers between her “dainty
”
ones, he jiggled and tugged until the muscles in her hand went lax. Tucking the arm back under the sheet, he repeated the process on her other side.

“I’m curious.
”
Shocker.
“When you make love do you remove your clothing?”

Her eyes squeezed shut behind the blackness of the mask.
I’m not here. I’m not here.

The sheet lifted, exposing her calves to the cool air of the room. His palms encircled the skin beneath her knee and stroked downward. Oh, God. He was touching her feet. Her mind calculated how long it had been since she’d had a pedicure.

A sharp giggle slipped past her lips as her toes twitched and his touch stilled, hovering just over a sensitive spot in the center of her foot. “Ticklish?”

“A little.”

He stroked a finger swiftly over the same spot and her foot twitched again. He was teasing her.

“Are you familiar with the ten erogenous zones of the female body, Ms. Farrow?”

No. She was profoundly ignorant when it came to that sort of thing. She was lucky if she climaxed at all during sex and she’d never had a vaginal orgasm. Always requiring special attention, it was usually too much to voice direction, so she’d make some noises and hoped the guy found her performance believable.