Sliced Ice by Lee Winter

Author:Lee Winter [Winter, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Lesbian Fiction
Publisher: Ylva Publishing
Published: 2021-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

Number Five

Monique Carson, Las Vegas’s premier CEO sex fantasy expert, straightened the paperwork on her desk in Room 612 of Hotel Duxton. The desk was wooden, solid, and perfectly sized for the taking of women over, or under, it while she dictated her orders for the day, depending on the client’s desires.

Her clients were all women. Monique loved seeing women open up and come alive from being intimate with someone who knew how to ignite their bodies. There was something so powerful about looking into a woman’s eyes the moment she understood what sex could really be like.

Repressed women, unhappy women, bored women. Showing them how much they could feel was a heady sensation, and, by God, Monique loved her work. All her clients, even the walled-off ones, were fascinating to her.

Which lead her thoughts to her next arrival.

If Monique Carson saw herself as olive oil—languid, evocative, and smooth—June Menzies was brittle as sandpaper. The abrasive, sixty-two-year-old hotel executive existed in a state of constant annoyance and ferocity, approaching her work and life as if storming battlements. Little wonder half the staff at Hotel Duxton Vegas were in fear of their front desk manager.

To Monique, though, June Menzies was utterly delicious. After all, a ball of fury was just something else to play with and pull apart. Something interesting. Exciting. Fun.

And although Mrs. Menzies often suggested she hated everything about Monique’s teasing attitude and all the salacious details that her work entailed, it never stopped her from visiting. Often.

A knock sounded.

Right on time.

“Darling, come in,” Monique purred, stepping aside to allow entry.

Mrs. Menzies entered and placed a small leather handbag on the chair. It was rigid and black, as formal as its owner in her starched outfit.

Her shoulder-length, slightly damp hair was a rich dark brown courtesy of her doubtlessly expensive hairdresser. She wore her expression and her hotel uniform the same way: stiff and armored. As if just daring someone to take her on.

Mrs. Menzies was rotund, short, with an ample bosom, a thick waist, wide hips and thighs, and a permanently drawn down mouth. Her wrists were knotted into tight fists. She looked even angrier than usual, which probably explained her call an hour ago for Monique to urgently fit her in.

But as much as June Menzies so often resembled an enraged, lethal porcupine, in her dark eyes lay a fire that Monique found deeply attractive.

The woman’s rounded cheeks—sporting a rising blush from the awareness of what she was about to do—were as smooth and flawless as the rest of her soft, gorgeously fleshy body.

Every woman was beautiful to Monique—even the ones who never saw it in themselves. Especially those women such as June Menzies.

Mrs. Menzies’s husband often dismissed her as nothing, which only made her fight even harder to prove her value in her professional sphere. The more he cheated on her, the more efficient a manager she became. Monique had often thought it would be fascinating to study this link between personal fury and professional prowess…if one didn’t mind losing an eye in the process.

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