Chapter Eighteen
The Porsche stopped just a few blocks away in front of the Hampton Court, the middle of downtown in midst of the rush hour roar.
“Room 210, better hurry,” he said, practically pushing Jocelyn out the door. Her dumbfound face looked back to him, thinking the brusque send off odd. “Alex is waiting,” he added with a pleasant grin. “I’ll be back for you later.” With that, the Porsche sped off, leaving Jocelyn on the street.
Once he’d disappeared from sight, the befuddled redhead looked up towards the second floor windows, seeing the curtain fluttering in the breeze, and what appeared to be the profile of a statuesque blonde standing there looking down on her.
***
Alex took the jar of cream by the bedside table and spread it across Jocelyn’s ass. “Who made the marks?” she
