Bad Boy Boss Read Online Free PDF Page B

that.
    Now Jimmy, the drug dealer, he had a short refractory period and had managed three times in one evening, and it hurt like hell for a couple days. This was different. It was all so soft and gentle, my pelvis wasn’t getting slammed, and my vagina wasn’t getting treated like a stick someone was trying to light on fire with friction. Eventually I turned Peter on his back and got on top of him. As I said before, who counts at a time like that?
    “We’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “So we really don’t have to shower together.”
    “We’ve got plenty of time to shower together; isn’t that the proper way to phrase that?” I said.
    “That would be correct,” he said as he led me to the shower.
    We soaped and rinsed each other, slipping along each other’s bodies until the hot water began to run out. Then we dried each other, half the time getting the dried portion wet again because the corresponding part of the other person’s body was still wet and, well they just sort of found their way together.
    We dressed, ate bacon and eggs for breakfast and headed off to work. The first costume was going to be ready that day, so most of the day would be spent in the forest. I didn’t know much about the project, except that it was about fairies, so I just assumed it was like a fairy tale. It wasn’t.
    Kate’s costume was a pretty amazing copy of a photo. The photo was one of a fairy. Once I was in the costume, less the wings, Peter sat me down at a makeup table. I'd never had a man apply makeup to me and I nearly purred under the sensation. By the time he was done, my face was a reasonable copy of the fairy’s. Once the wings were attached we were off, up Sugarloaf Mountain in the San Bernardino National Forest.
    He showed me the drawings that he needed to replicate with a real, live me. Some involved flying and I learned to jump into a pose so that in a still picture, I would appear to be flying. A couple times, I found rocks to climb and jump off of to hold the pose longer. It was both more and less challenging than the figure modeling. The camera froze the motion, not the model, so while as a figure model you have to concentrate on not moving, the photographic model has to concentrate on her motion and on not stopping. Peter would show me his sketch and I would make a kind of dance around the pose so I came back to it time after time approaching it from different angles and positions so that, hopefully, one frame would be perfect.
    I wasn’t cold because the exercise of moving kept me warm. Peter had brought along a picnic of the corned beef sandwiches, potato salad and we split a tenth of Merlot.
    We stopped at about three, because Peter said the sun was slanting wrong for the north face of the mountain and we lost most of the north light.
    I carefully took off the costume and hung it up behind the screen, just putting on my boots and socks with the wrap skirt because I knew I’d have to change.
    “What about dinner?” I asked.
    “Your turn. Also in your meat keeper, there are two pork chops and two pieces of calves’ liver, ham and bacon.”
    “Well, I know we have onions,” I said, “and I know how to do bacon, liver and onions. I saw some frozen peas. Normally they wouldn’t go, but if I cut them with some cocktail onions it’ll be a perfect match.”
    “Sounds good; we can go over the shots from today and decide if we have any keepers.”
    “Well, it might help to know what we’re doing. About all I know is that we’re doing a book about fairies and not the type that live in Frisco.”
    “The book is about the fairies of Cottingley. In 1917 and 1920, two young girls took five photographs of fairies. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle became interested and wrote an article about them for the Strand Magazine and, in 1922 a book about them called The Coming of the Fairies.
    “Kate does wardrobe for television, so I set her up to recreate the costumes for the fairies from the five photographs the girls