Chapter Nine
This was not a fairytale, Leo told the synapses firing in his brain. It was a mess. It was a pretty mess because the fireworks that ignited as his neurotransmitters made and received connections looked remarkably like the sparkles that would come out of a Disney character’s magic wand. They translated the scene before him of a messy cooking experiment into a Cinderella-themed spectacle.
Esme stood in the kitchen of his hotel suite. She wore a dress the color of a ripe apple. It hugged each and every one of her curves rousing Leo’s imagination further. The bodice pushed up her breasts which heaved as she laughed with Penelope.
Esme had been transformed from the attractive young woman in common working clothes that he’d encountered that afternoon, to a dazzling damsel in a re
