Chapter Three
I drew my bathwater myself, spending a longer than normal time getting everything ready. I always loved luxuriating in the steamy jasmine-scented water of the oversized tub; it was like silk against my skin. Rather than feel myself let go the tension of the last two weeks, I was reminded of Garrison’s orders for the evening. During the drive into country, I thought of Angelica, trying to imagine myself making love to a woman—specifically that woman. I think my father hired her for the voluptuous breasts and tiny waist, the Playboy Playmate curves, and her sleek blonde hair. Her eyes were dark and widely spaced, her skin a natural tan and her lips full enough to suggest she’d had a few collagen shots to accentuate their allure. He used to call her dim-witted, but I never tho
