Cell 14
“Comfortable?”
“No, Miss Anderson.”
“Good. I don’t want you to be comfortable. But I do appreciate the politeness, Roscoe. There was a time when you’d call me a b***h and threaten to have the managing partner of the firm transfer me to the Duluth office. And now here you stand, saluting me with this nice hard p***s, expressing such courteous manners.”
Roscoe stands, his arms and hands secured behind his head by the ubiquitous neck and shoulder restraint. Nose ring hooked high above, the tension forces him to his toes. As his Level One training has ingrained, he stiffens admirably before a governing woman. And for this tete a tete, Molly has had Bobbi attach cords to the end of his humbler, right and left.
“I’ve found most of the stuff you so profligately purchased, Roscoe. Sol
