“The kitchen,” Lander says, a little more sternly this time, and as the man turns to obey orders, Lander pushes me against the wall and kisses me fiercely. His hands are everywhere—my butt, my inner thighs—and then up, once again slipping inside my core just as our audience reemerges from the kitchen. He pauses to watch as I claw at Lander’s back.

I look over at the man. He’s got shaggy black hair that falls into his eyes, and the stubble on his face is so faint it can barely be seen.

Lander’s toying with me, making me shiver, but still I manage a smile for our visitor. “You can leave now,” I say coyly as Lander continues his ministrations.

“But I need to give him his tip,” Lander says, pulling a fifty out of his back pocket and placing it in my palm. His right hand never leaves me, never stops moving. Once again I’m coming close to losing control.

The stranger moves closer. He’s studying me now, watching the way Lander is making my body quiver and sing. His eyes linger on my breasts before falling to where Lander is touching me. I can see that he’s hard for me. I can see that he wants to touch me.

I reach out my hand . . .

. . . and give him the fifty.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Lander asks as he presses his finger in deeper, and I find that I can’t suppress my moan.

“Yes,” the man whispers. “May I . . . may I touch her?”

“No,” Lander says, leaning down to kiss my shoulder. “Only she chooses who can touch her. And she’s chosen me.”

I close my eyes at that. He has no idea why he was chosen. He doesn’t know that the woman whose body he can manipulate so easily has made it her life’s work to manipulate his world.

“May I touch you?” the man asks me, bypassing Lander in his desperation for satisfaction.

I open my eyes and stare into the brown eyes of Lander,

my lover,

my choice.

“No,” I whisper.

Lander smiles and with one hand he opens the door wide again. If anyone were in the hall they’d be able to see us. But no one is there and, very reluctantly, the deliveryman walks out the door. He turns to say one more thing, or perhaps he just wants to burn the image into his memory, but Lander lets the door close and then suddenly we’re alone again.

And I’m on fire.