10
Chelle
As promised, a very tattooed courier with a thick Russian accent showed up at my work to deliver an envelope for me this afternoon. Inside was a keycard and a note written in Nikolai’s neat, square letters.
Chelle,
I look forward to having you as my s*x slave.
I’m in Suite 1110. You’ll need the keycard for the elevator and my door. You can also use it to park in the garage beneath the building.
I want you there by nine, but don’t expect me home until after midnight.
—N
I read and reread that first line twenty times. How seriously is he taking this s*x slave thing?
Well, obviously, seriously, considering the texts we exchanged. I think it’s the word “slave” that’s throwing me.
But knowing Nikolai—do I know Nikolai?—he’s being tongue-in-cheek. The guy doesn’t strike me as
