Now she laughed nervously, but also pressed her body against his, grinding into him with her ass. She wanted him, didn’t she? Of course she did. He was Dr. Elijah Creem. There were all kinds of things he could do for her.
And to her.
Creem reached around front and cut away the skin-thin fabric of her panties next. It wasn’t the same as cutting actual flesh, but it had its appeal. Besides, his life was complicated enough right now. He couldn’t afford to take out his own maid. What was the expression—don’t shit where you eat?
Instead, he bent her over the sink, with the warm water still running, and entered her right there.
“Relax,” he told her. “This should feel good.”
With the very tip of his blade, he reached up again, and drew it softly down the exposed skin of her back. Using only the slightest pressure, just enough to raise a few skin cells, it left behind a fine white line, like a tiny chalk mark. She shivered as he did it—either loving this, or displaying some killer acting skills. Creem didn’t care which.
He didn’t last long after that, either. The ruined uniform, and the sight of the girl bent over the sink, catching warm water in her hair, was enough to get him off. But then, with one fleeting mental image of the knife taking his place inside of her, Creem was quickly past the point of no return.
Up and over.
Fourth of July fireworks, and all that.
When he was done, he sent little Kate upstairs to pick out something else to wear. He even gave her a wad of cash to go shopping with afterward, and the rest of the day off.
“Thank you, Dr. Creem,” she said in her quaint accent. “Thank you so much.”
“No, thank you,” Creem said. “What a lovely way to start the day.”
He smiled as she scooted out, letting her enjoy herself for now.
By the end of the week, she’d be looking for another job.
CHAPTER
21
CREEM’S APPOINTMENT WITH HIS CRIMINAL ATTORNEY WAS SCHEDULED FOR nine thirty that morning. He showed up at the L Street offices of Schuman and Pace just after ten.
“Elijah,” Bill Schuman said, coming around the desk to shake his hand. “Good to see you.” He paused to let Creem apologize for his tardiness, but Creem only nodded. He’d probably be charged for the time, anyway.
“Have a seat. Please,” the lawyer told him.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He took the button-tufted tweed couch near the door instead of the leather swivel by Schuman’s desk. Schuman seemed a little puzzled, but didn’t say anything as he sat back down and started flipping through the file in front of him.
“Give it to me straight, doc. How long do I have to live?” Creem asked.
“You’re in a good mood,” Schuman said.
“Just got laid, if you want to know.”
His lawyer looked at him with an expression somewhere between offended and envious. It was the look of a guy who hardly ever got laid himself.
“Anyway,” Schuman went on, “things are moving along. We’ve got Lew Car
roll coming down from New York for second chair, and I’ve already pinned down the two best jury consultants in the city for this trial.”
“Fine, fine,” Creem said. “Do we have a lot to go over?” Now that Joshie had thrown down the gauntlet with such determination, he had much more interesting things to think about.
“Well . . . yes,” Schuman said. “Of course we do. Elijah, you’ve got to focus here. If you want to get your money’s worth on this defense—”
“At eight hundred and twenty-five an hour, I don’t know if that’s possible,” Creem said.