Chapter 32

• "Spread your legs," Jack said.
• I had seated myself across from him on the upstairs balcony, wineglass in hand, after handing him his gin and tonic. The air was muggy and thick, a typical summer evening in St. Louis; thunderheads gathering, threatening a storm. I wore a short summer dress, high-heeled, strappy sandals – and nothing else.
• I glanced down anxiously through the balcony's wrought-iron railings to the street below. In the early dusk it was still possible to look up from the street and see us clearly on the balcony. He saw my nervous glance down and met my eyes, waiting. I took a shaky breath and obeyed, spreading my knees apart for him, though I left the hem of the dress draped over my thighs.