Free Dead Sexy by Linda Jaivin Page A

between her legs. He smiled as he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it to his lips and sucked on it. ‘See, Nic, you’re enjoying yourself.’ He rolled onto his side, facing away from the table. With both hands behind his back, he gripped a table leg.
    Breathing unevenly, Nicola closed the steel rings around his wrists, locking his hands behind the heavy table leg.
    ‘Scarf.’
    She tied one end of her scarf around his neck. He was already so hard that she could see the veins throbbing in his cock.
    ‘OK, baby, pull the scarf tight, but not too tight. Make my eyes bulge.’
    ‘Yuk,’ she blurted. She scrambled to her feet and looked down at him.
    From where she stood, naked, in her high heels, with her hands on her hips and a grimace on her face, Johnny B. Wright suddenly looked less sex god than sadster. Nicola felt like Dorothy on discovering that the Wizard of Oz was just a pathetic little man whose magic boiled down to a few mechanical bells and whistles. She wanted to tap the heels of her ruby slippers together three times and go back to Kansas or, more accurately, Potts Point and her faithful fireman.
    There was something else, too, a realisation that made Nicola’s brain light up like a roomful of makeup mirrors: she was not Anabelle. Orrather, she may have been all of Anabelle, but Anabelle was not all of Nicola. Anabelle may have come up with the equivalence ‘Xtreme Sex—Xtremely Sexy!’ and given some thought to ‘When It’s Neat to Cheat!’ But Nicola, while not denying that Johnny had revealed aspects of her own sexuality she’d never known and which deeply thrilled her, wanted, at this moment, nothing more than to be with her Foxy. It didn’t matter that Fox was a bit slow on the sexual take. They were going to be together a long, long time—long enough that one day she could hope he might even let her stick her finger up his arse.
    Nicola took the other end of the scarf and walked over to the inward-opening door of the boardroom. The scarf was just long enough that she could secure it on the designer handle and, with the other door open, still leave a fair bit of slack.
    ‘There you go, Johnny. Please yourself.’
    ‘Nicola. You’re my fantasy, girl. You know, I…I love you.’
    ‘Puh-lease. Spare me.’ Nicola shook her headas she put her clothes back on. ‘Catch you in another life.’
    Johnny, speechless, tilted his head back as far as it would go and watched her sashay out to the lift.
    Mann watched as Nicola descended in Lift One while Liz ascended in Lift Two. The lifts passed around Floor 12. Liz bared her teeth at the mirror, behind which the camera was concealed. Mann jumped. For one disconcerting moment he thought she was leering at him. Then she raised an index finger and rubbed some lipstick off her front teeth.
    Mann was sure Johnny hadn’t mentioned anything about Liz being on for tonight. What a stud.
    Nicola crossed the lobby and exited the building, her heels tattooing across the slate floor. But when she got outside, she seemed to deflate. She leaned against the front of the building, arms crossed, wrapped in her thoughts.
    When he was sure that Nicola couldn’t see him, Fox, who’d been standing in the shadows across the street, strode off towards Macquarie Street.
    Fox had seen all he needed to see. The most important detail was Liz’s arrival at the building. Fox thought of himself as a blokey sort of bloke. He didn’t claim to know much about women. But one thing he did know was that if Nicola and Liz found out that Johnny B. Wright was shagging both of them, he’d be dead meat. Johnny B. Wright didn’t have a hope in hell.
    With a grim but satisfied smile on his face, Fox hurried across the Domain and home to wait for Nicola’s return.
    Nicola started for home soon afterwards as well. She wasn’t, however, keen to walk across the Domain at this hour on her own. After a fruitless wait for taxis on Bent Street, she strode in the direction of the Quay. The