Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) by Kristina Canady

away from the luscious curves that have been haunting me.
    “What was it this time?” I grunt without looking up from the stack of papers sprawled on the desk.
    “Some fancy new shit called flakka. My buddy downtown was telling me about it. Some psychoactive shit that makes people fuck trees,” Doug nervously informs me while fiddling with the knob.
    “Great. It didn’t leak?” I try to curb the harshness of my tone.
    “Not that we know of. Caught him back there early, cuffed him, and called it in. No one was seen fucking inanimate objects so I think we are good,” Doug laughs uncomfortably with a toothy grin.
    “Brief the waitresses and others on it. Shit like that spreads like wildfire during the holiday party season.”
    “Will do, boss. You coming to the dungeon for the Sunday night round up?” Doug attempts to chum it up by appealing to our joint interests.
    “Nah, probably not.”
    “Seriously? You are not coming to the sub round up? Tits everywhere and not a minute for you to spare?” Doug looks at me like he thinks I might be sick.
    “Got a lot of shit to do, man. Being top dog means I actually got to work,” I growl.
    “Yeah, sucks to be you, Master Gavin. Subs throwin’ their panties at you left and right. Rough shit.”
    “Alright, Doug. I’m sure there is a waitress out there dying to have you take her home.” I let his nervous babbling slide and dismiss him in the nicest way I can. His jabber is clearly a nervous habit to ease his conscience in times of uncertainty or distress. And it’s not like I let my men get too comfortable around me as it were.
    “Fuck yeah there is. Cherry has been chompin at the bit. Later, man.” Doug ducks out, whistling a tune that I ignore and get back to work.
     
    After a half hour, I give up and throw in the towel. This is asinine. Here I am, trying to write up my own crap on top of reviewing all the managers’ submitted inventory reports and all I can think about is exploring every inch of Sorcha’s body with my tongue. I bet her pale skin would puff and swell so pretty under the lash of my whip. For the love of all that is holy, what the hell has she done to me? I don’t fucking have time for this bullshit! I scold myself and grab my keys. Enough of this shit.
     
     

Chapter 5
     
     
    Sorcha
     
     
    After a beer and hot bath, I managed to get some sleep before getting up to work myself into the Elvira costume. Standing to look at the ensemble, a bit of guilt over not being in the studio much this week bites at me. There is one piece I am aching to get my hands on after finding it in the last set of negatives. Pushing my wayward creative brain back under lock and key, I adjust the slit in the front of my dress that comes all the way up and stops at my thigh junction. After ensuring its placement, I move to check the security of the tape holding the plunging front that extends to my belly button in place. After many strips of fashion tape and cleverly designed stick-on bra cups that hold the girls somewhat together, the wig and makeup are the last pieces needed to complete the get-up. Samuel will love this costume!
     
    Daz gives another inspiring pep talk that borders on inappropriate before sending us all to our stations. It doesn’t take long for Samuel to quickly corner me behind the bar as we set up.
    “Gavin? Really? What were you thinking?” he scorns with accusation.
    “What? No shameless jokes or flirting over my costume to warm me up for the interrogation first?”
    Samuel gives me one look that has me blowing out a heavy sigh of defeat.
    “I didn’t know who he was when it happened; I’ve never actually met the dude before, remember? He was a real peach at the bar, pissed me off. I opened my mouth, which… is hardly ever good. Went to leave and he followed, veering me to the private rooms and sealing the deal with a wicked kiss that left me putty in his hands. I left shortly after closing time, dismissing his attempts to take me