The Professional Read Free Page B

local residents often dropped by Twilight Acres’ General Store—where she sold her handmade lotions and soaps and kept a massage room—so that they could listen to him carry on.
    Clayton, ever mindful of his audience, never failed to make it sound like he was receiving a variety of mind-blowing, imaginative sexual favors and never left her little room without looking hot, sweaty and pleasantly worn out.
    She looked the same way, for that matter. But it was only because ninety-percent of her clientele were on blood thinners and required more heat than was ever comfortable, particularly during the summer months. She grimaced.
    Georgia’s zip code in August could easily be mistaken for Hell’s.
    “Same time next week, Clayton?” she asked, wiping the excess lotion from her hands and the sweat from her brow.
    “It’s a date,” he said, his response predictable.
    With a shake of her head, Sophie left the room so that he could redress and wasn’t the least surprised to see several pairs of eyes dart in her direction. Most of the gazes were amused and familiar, though there were always a few more baffled ones that she didn’t recognize. No doubt they thought she was a hooker, turning her tricks at the old folks’ home as opposed to a seedy street corner. She mentally snorted.
    As if the hookers didn’t go directly to their houses.
    She’d been around Twilight Acres long enough to know that the only difference between this place and a college campus was that everyone here was older and could better finance their vices. Pot, she’d learned, never went out of style, sexual enhancement drugs had replaced speed, and thirty year old scotch and fine wine had picked up where two-buck chuck and George Dickel had left off.
    And considering that none of the residents had to cook, clean, work or hell, even drive for that matter, what was left to do there but get high or laid?
    Golden years, indeed, Sophie thought, her lips sliding into a smile. She fervently hoped she’d be able to retire here as well.
    “Oh, I’m so glad I caught you before you left,” Cora Henderson said, hurrying forward. The older woman was practically quivering with excitement. Her long snowy white hair was loosely braided, the plait dangling just below her collar bone. A fan of jewel tones and bold jewelry, today she was wearing a white tunic shirt, a large turquoise necklace and matching earrings, multiple rings upon her long, elegant fingers and a skirt the shade of the Caribbean Sea.
    Cora had been her grandmother’s neighbor and dearest friend here at Twilight Acres. Since her grandmother’s death two years ago, Cora had all but adopted her as another grandchild. She never forgot her birthday and insisted that Sophie spend the holidays with her and her family. She wasn’t certain how Cora’s relatives felt about that—especially after Cora had given her a cameo pendant her late husband had gotten for her while they’d honeymooned in Rome—but they were all too afraid of jeopardizing their inheritance to be anything less than polite.
    Because she had no other family to speak of—or would speak to , for that matter—Sophie sincerely appreciated it.
    Cora grasped her arm and leaned in excitedly. “Have you seen him yet?”
    Sophie blinked. “Seen who?”
    The older woman heaved a why-am-I-not-surprised sigh. “Of course, you haven’t,” she said. “You stay hidden away on that farm or in that massage room. Goats and old goats,” she went on, a familiar refrain. “How do you expect to meet anyone if you’re never out and about?”
    If Sophie wanted to meet someone, then she’d go out and about. Since she wasn’t so inclined, she was perfectly satisfied with the status quo. When and if she changed her mind, then she’d change her habits, but considering her last foray into the love department had netted her a two-week crying jag and a broken heart, she wasn’t keen on revisiting Romance Land at the moment.
    Sophie considered