The woman stretched her petite frame along the damask love seat. "Come rub my feet, Sweetheart."
He eyed her through dark lashes, a smirk on his face. Lowering himself on the oval-topped coffee table, he took her foot in his wide-fingered hands. Freshly bathed and perfumed, pedicured and bare, the limb looked innocent enough, but the man knew better. There was nothing innocuous about his mentor.
In the bedroom, a movie played, a gangster film he'd been watching until he'd been summoned. Otherwise, the only sound in the sumptuous room was the purring of his mistress.
"The arch, darling. Massage the arch."
"What have you done today to require a massage." He learned from her how to turn a question into an accusation. She looked younger than her sixty years, thanks to dye and a trim body. He kneaded the bones stringently. "When does he arrive?"
"Well, the Jets game ended at four, then there'd be a post-game interview, and he'd need to shower and change clothes. Plus the traffic on the expressway. I'm thinking eight o'clock."
"Guess I'd better get out of here then. The last thing I need is for the New York press to find out I'm having an affair with the wife of Rex Ryan."
Opening: Kat Day.....Continuation: EE