Tilting her chin, she motions to the beach and the rental house not far from us.
“It’s a job that pays well and a few times over what I used to make. You’d be able to move here with Emma if that’s what you want.”
“Where would you be?”
“Back in town. Room and board are included, so I don’t have to worry about that.”
Her eyebrows move up.
“What kind of job is it?” she asks suspiciously.
“It’s a regular job. Computer stuff. I’d be able to come here regularly to see you and Emma. It’s safer for both of you. The ocean and the beach are nearby. People are friendly. The place is quiet. ”
She thinks about it.
“Is that a solid offer?”
I smile.
“It is for now... But it’s like anything else. It can change at any moment. I’m not making long-term plans with it, but it’s a good opportunity to make this move. I’d rather see Emma in a safer neighborhood than stuck in some crowded part of the city.”
“Me too. But if you say you’re not sure...”
“I’m not saying that. If anything changes, I’ll figure something out. I know it’s hard to depend solely on me, but I’ll make it work. When Emma gets older and you finish school, you’ll have a job, and things will improve. You’ll see.”
Emma shifts her body just as I finish talking. She lifts her head, sleepy eyes staring at the tip of my nose.
I motion to Sara.
“Time to go, girls.”
14
SENNA
“Good evening, Ms. Lloyd. Merry Christmas!”
Evading the hotel clerk’s eyes, I snatch the key card, mumble an answer and veer away from the concierge desk.
The click-clacking of my heels resonates across the lobby, all the way to the elevator, turning a few heads.
Way to go, Senna.
Admittedly, I've gone crazy with this outfit.
Had they not known who I was, they would’ve thrown me out of the hotel.
The flared, black mini-skirt barely covers my butt, and the matching garters peeking from underneath could quickly get me arrested.
A push-up bra spills half of my chest out.
A fitted, button-down shirt ties at my waist, exposing my belly button, while a cropped leather jacket drapes over my shoulders, stopping short of my waist.
The knee-length, high-heeled, black boots dispel all doubts in case there were any.
Everyone I have crossed paths with–including the reception desk clerk–knows exactly why I’m here and what I’m after.
I may as well have it tattooed on my forehead. Balls included. All I’m missing is the whip and the cuffs.