By the time Bob arrived home, Millie had been there for several hours setting up for what she hoped would be a memorable afternoon for them both. She expected him to be irate after his meeting with Andrew, but nothing prepared her for the look in his eyes as he opened the front door. She’d seen this look once before, when she was innocent and unassuming. And weak. Inside she shuddered, wishing to be a child again playing with Jamie’s new cur puppies in the backyard of their Oxford, Mississippi home. Other than the .38 in her purse, rising to meet him was her only defense. And while putting a bullet in his belly and watching him bleed out was #2 on her fantasies list, she still needed his influence and power. Gathering her thoughts, Millie transformed into the character that had governed Bob O’Malley for nearly forty years. Mistress. It was a dark, dark world. Darker than what it should have been, or even what was normal for sadomasochistic relationships. If it had been with any other man, she would’ve played by the rules, maybe even enjoyed this sexual fetish. But it was Bob, and survival merited that she be in complete and total control. Of herself. And him. Uncrossing her legs she stood and calmed her breathing. Slowly walking in his direction, she was pleased to see his look soften. Millie was glad she’d worn the black cat suit. She thought it was ridiculous, but it turned him on. And by the way his hand moved toward the zipper on his jeans, just saved her ass.