I frown. He's never a verbose man, but something about his impatience now is prickling my attention. "This is short notice. Why should I agree?"
"Because I'm asking nicely," he replies without the slightest trace of humor. "We both know I could be harsher if I needed to be."
"Don't threaten me," I spit. "You're a ghost in the wind. I won't take you seriously until you tell me what you want."
"Show up then, and maybe I'll fill you in."
The line goes dead.
I roll my eyes in disgust. All this pageantry, the unnecessary hoops and fanfare---it reeks of the Feds. Undercover agents live for the drama like we're on network f*****g television.
I'm still tempted to ignore the call and go home. My c**k is already half-hard just thinking about Nova, spread out across my bed, whimpering my name.
