Sexy Girls Read Online Free PDF

now.”
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    ***
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    At the security desk Cyn signed us in to the fourth floor. She chatted for a minute with Joe, the friendly, seventy-something guard. Joe turned on his charm for Cyn. He called Cyn his favorite and his sweetheart.
    Cyn said, “You're working too much, Joe.”
    â€œHoney, we've been down a man for a few months and HQ is slow to replace him.”
    She told Mr. Verticelli that we would be only about twenty minutes.
    Joe said, “Take your time, honey,” and took a sip of coffee.
    We got off the elevator and entered her dark suite. Her boss, Sandy Miller, was gone for the weekend and the other assistant set designer, Stephanie Prince, was traveling with Robert on location. In that first minute, while I sat on one of the drawing table stools, Cyn turned on the ceiling lights, opened her office, and pressed on her computer. I took in her workplace and it revealed a part of Cyndie I seldom see; The Artist. Then, she went out to one of the drawing tables, turned on the desk lamp and pulled out two portfolios and opened them up.
    Then, she looked at me and said, “Let's go.”
    Cyn was three steps ahead of me before I stood up.
    She put her keys into her suit coat pocket, quietly closed the suite's door and made sure it was locked. Just as quietly, she opened the fire escape door and made sure it closed silently.
    As we walked up the metal and concrete steps, Cyn whispered, “Our cover is that you wanted to see the view from the deck, got it?”
    â€œYes,” I whispered back.
    We exited the fire escape into the fifth floor elevator lobby. To our left were the two elevator doors. In front of us was the hall that ended with the door that led out on the deck. Sunlight poured through the glass window in the top half of the door. To our right, across from the elevators, was the main entrance to the penthouse.
    The hallway was carpeted and muffled the sound of Cyn's high heels. We walked down the hall, opened the door and went out onto the deck into an outdoor, city paradise. What a view! We were above the tree line, looking down on Rittenhouse Square and its solid block of green leaves and grassy lawns. About half of the surrounding buildings towered over our heads; some of them were over twenty stories high. The deck gave me the sensation of being on display, seen by hundreds of invisible eyes in those offices, apartments and hotels, while at the same time we had that same advantage over the crowds on the streets below.
    It was a truly lovely evening. For late May, the weather was perfect; temperature in the high seventies, low humidity, with the sun behind the tall apartment buildings on the west side of the square. The deck was made of pressure-treated six-inch-wide planks, laid at a diagonal from northeast to southwest. There were ten planters with palm trees and other tropical plants. Cyn told me the trees are moved off the roof in the fall. There were two outdoor glass-top, metal tables with matching chairs. Also, there were two chaise lounges and Cyn explained that Andi used these for topless sunbathing when Robert wasn't around. She smiled when she said the Grayson's have never received a complaint.
    â€œIsn't this nice up here, Stevie?”
    â€œIt really is. What a great place for a party!”
    â€œYeah, but the company doesn't really use it very much. Robert is too damn cheap!”
    After another minute of taking in the view, Cyn walked to the French doors. Two large rectangular planters flanked the doors with dwarf boxwood hedges in back and annual flowers in the front of each. Cyn went to the left planter, bent her knees and reached behind this wooden box and pulled out a silver key. Without looking around, Cyn stood, inserted the key in the lock in the left French door and entered the penthouse.
    I paused until she said, “Get in here, Stevie.”
    I entered a world of fine, modern furniture. Cyn walked ahead of me toward a back room, while I stood