A French Whipping
“She wasn’t entirely sure what kind of trouble the kitten could possibly get into, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She made sure the cat had water, access to the utility room with the litter box, a bed, and a few toys to play with, including the mouse and a length of rope.
Shane was waiting outside the limo when she stepped outside, wearing a polo shirt and pants. Tattoos ran up and down his forearms and could be seen peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.
“Hey, Shane, thanks for doing this for me.”
“It’s not far, Ms. Blake. Anytime.”
He held the passenger door open for her and she slid inside with only a slight roll of her eyes. It felt ridiculous to be riding around in the back of the limo by herself. Normal people didn’t ride around in limos.
She’d texted Shane the address earlier, so she was left with nothing to do but contemplate the chains that ran along the top of her boots and play blackjack on her phone as he drove through town.
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