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Hawkins) to join the show. She demurred, but they kept insisting that she was an excellent singer and would be an enhancement for the show.Finally, to shut them up, she agreed to an audition after supper. Mary played the piano, not well, but well enough to accompany her mother. I was surprised at how well Elizabeth could sing. She was not perfect, but was certainly plenty good enough to entertain the kind of audience I expected. I added my voice to the encouragement for her to join the show. Apparently, that was what she needed to convince her, so she agreed to sing a few songs for each performance.I wanted a musical background for the shooting phase of the show, so I had planned to hire a pianist anyway, so now I had most of the show lined up. All I had to do now was set up the details. Basically, I was going to use the same script that I had used in Santa Fe with the minor changes needed to fit the current situation. The last performer we needed was a Master of Ceremonies. Jack. “And at the Louvre, that was you as well?” “Yes.” “And you dreamed of me, perhaps?” “Yes. Many times.” “Good. Take off your pants. I want to see how I affect you.” Slowly, I unbuttoned my trousers, carefully unzipping them, my erection straining against my black silk boxers, holding my breath, and then slowly letting it out as I saw approval in her eyes, letting them drop to the floor in a pool that covered my expensive Forzieri loafers. As much as I resented those who’d come to great wealth, I prided myself on being able to fit in among them. Business was business, after all. “And, after tonight, you will dream of me still.” “Oh, yes,” I whispered, lost in her gaze, barely aware of how her smile had turned feral. “I want to see you. All of you.” There was an edge to her voice, the hint of command. Perhaps this was how a deity spoke to us mere mortals. I complied without fanfare, slipping out of my shoes, stepping out of my press and pleated trousers, abandoning my silk.
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