Cursed Read Free Page B

of them had come to the office in an hour or so.
    â€œKim,” she called out, figuring the girl must have been secretly trying to record her. Maybe she’d fallen, knocked something over.
    There was no answer, and the air smelled like the ocean, as if there were a window open somewhere.
    Lille, her heart racing, picked up a spreader bar—a heavy metal rod covered in neoprene with rings on either end. It was meant to be attached to cuffs and used to keep a person’s legs spread wide. Lille eased into the closet doorway, gripping the rod like a baseball bat.
    She peeked out, then gasped, jumping back.
    A naked man was lying on his back in the center of her office floor, jacking off. A strong breeze blew the curtains through the broken window in the back of the room.
    â€œHi, Lille,” he greeted her, grimacing as he gripped himself hard. “Do you like it?”
    Lille held the bar a little tighter. Screaming seemed like an option . . . and calling the cops.
    â€œIs it big?” he continued, huffing as he worked himself. “You like it?”
    â€œUgh.” Lille shuddered and dialed 911. “John,” she yelled.
    John appeared in the doorway to the office, seeing in one glance both the intruder on the floor and Lille in the closet to his right.
    â€œShit. You guys stay back,” he ordered everyone.
    Kim, of course, didn’t listen and weaseled her way around John. She was filming the entire thing—she wouldn’t be able to post it unless she edited out the man’s penis, but of course that wouldn’t stop her. The man was pale and stocky—he actually looked a little like Stellan SkarsgÃ¥rd, but that didn’t make his presence in Lille’s office any more palatable.
    Jordan tried to grab her. “Kim, come here.”
    Kim looked up at him and waved a hand. “Why? He’s harmless. This kind doesn’t hurt anybody.” She pointed the camera at the man working himself over. “Why are you here, loser?”
    â€œDoes she like it?” he asked the camera, his eyes wild. “Is it big?”
    Jordan shook his head. “Dude, nobody likes it.”
    â€œIt’s okay.” Kim shrugged behind her camera.
    Jordan looked appalled. “You won’t even go on a date with me, and this guy looks okay?”
    Kim pulled the camera away and frowned at Jordan. “I told you not to fall in love with me. You’re stupid,” she concluded, and brought the camera back up to her face.
    Lille winced, holding the phone to her ear so she’d be able to hear the dispatcher.
    Jordan was red-faced, and the man on the floor was groaning.
    â€œLille—my Fetish Queen—can I come on your tits?”
    Mary, who was leaning around the barrier John was trying to make of his body, let out a sincere, “Eeeeeewwww.”
    John looked torn between wanting to throw the guy out on his ass and not wanting to go near him.
    Lille didn’t blame him. She was thinking about burning the rug.
    â€œYes, there’s been a break-in at my business.” Lille tried to cover the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand so the dispatcher wouldn’t hear the moaning and get the wrong idea. “The Fetish Box, 500 East Dania Beach Boulevard . . . There’s a naked man in my office.”
    â€œThat’s probably not the first time they’ve heard that,” Mary suggested.
    Jordan snorted and folded his arms, his color faded somewhat, but still a gleam of irritation in his eyes. “That’s probably not the first time they’ve heard that for this address.”
    Kim turned the camera on him. “Didn’t Mary’s mom find you naked in her car?”
    Jordan dropped his arms. “That was different.”
    â€œUh-uh,” Kim argued succinctly.
    â€œWhoo-hoo-hoo, look who knows so much.” Jordan waved a hand. “You act like you know everything.”
    â€œAnd you can’t have