Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
With a sigh, I pulled into the parking area of a little outside café I often frequented after work. Helped me to wind down and catch my breath. Occasionally I’d run into someone who knew me, but the hospital was in Palm Beach so it wasn’t often. It was also the place where I’d met the most interesting woman I’d ever encountered.
Her name was Cecilia, but she went by CeCe. I thought she was an escort, but the jury was still out. She was here nearly every evening. I found I simply liked talking to her. She was intelligent, with a quirky personality. She could carry on a conversation about almost anything with some degree of knowledge. But it was her eyes that intrigued me. She had the look of someone who’d seen far more than a person of her years should have. I doubt she was much out of her teens, but she seemed to take in everything around her. Several times I’d tested her. Dropping observations about things around us or small details about someone walking down the sidewalk. She always knew the answers. Like me, she always chose a table that let her have the best view of the area with her back against the building.
Walking to my usual table, I glanced around, looking for CeCe. Because of the long conversation with Mrs. Singleton, I was a little late so I could have missed her. I hoped not because I could really use her refreshing personality. The girl really was a rare treasure. I thought about prying into her life, finding out exactly what she did and who she worked for, seeing if my suspicions were correct, but we had a comfortable relationship. Basically, we spoke when we were at this café, and that was it. I didn’t see her anywhere else. We didn’t talk about anything personal. Sometimes we never even looked at each other. Just… talked. About everything and nothing. Nonsense. Whatever was on our minds. I was about to leave when I saw her.
CeCe was dressed in a tight, short red skirt with a white billowy top that cinched around her middle above her waist. A black bustier pushed her breasts up and together, giving her mouth-watering cleavage. Her hair was a straight, gleaming mass dark as a raven’s wing, reaching below her waist. This was her usual attire and I’d learned a couple of months ago to live with the hard-on I got seeing her in these outfits.
She sat along the brick wall of the building beside the café, as usual, one table between us. We didn’t acknowledge each other or speak. She simply caught the attention of Teddy. He owned the place and was always there, even if he had someone else working.
“The usual, Teddy.”
“Chocolate pie and a coffee coming up, darlin’.”
“Thanks.” Everything inside me settled. I hid my smile and said nothing. Instead, I picked up a book I’d been reading the last several days while I drank a cup of coffee and ate a sandwich. This evening it was chicken salad.
“You still reading about the guy who kills that old lady and then spends the whole book freaking out about it? Raskolnikov, right?”
I grinned. “Crime and Punishment. Yeah, kid.” I didn’t look up from my book, but I never did. It was a game we played, where we pretended indifference. It was one we were both comfortable with. “I always found him to be an interesting character -- tormented by his own guilt. Unable to escape the consequences of his actions.”
She snorted. “It’s always something, I guess. Life torments us all in one way or another.”
I thought about that. “Can’t say you’re wrong there.”
“‘Course, I’m not wrong.” She sounded bitter. Not for the first time, I wondered if I was right and she was an escort. She was always very well put together. Even the revealing clothing she wore was done with taste. Her hair was always perfect, her makeup just so. Her body was well toned, fine muscle playing beneath her skin when she moved. I’d never seen such perfectly formed arms on a woman before. They were muscled but sleek. Feminine.
With a last quick bite of pie, she slapped a couple bills down on the table and stood. She started to leave, then stopped and turned her head to face me. “You think Raskolnikov would’ve done any better if he’d had someone? You know, someone who had his back?”
“Who knows?” I shrugged. A darkness crept into her gaze even though her face was carefully blank. This, I didn’t like. “But I do believe there are times when the ends justify the means. Maybe not in Raskolnikov’s case, but…”
“Yeah.” She looked away, putting her shoulders back. “Sure.”
“See you tomorrow?” I’d never pushed her before. Never asked when I’d see her or if she’d be back. But my instinct was screaming at me that something was wrong.