She takes a deep breath and says in nearly a moan, “You smell so good.”
I turn around, pull her closer and nestle her pelvis against mine. I slip my tongue into her mouth. Her body relaxes. My hand sneaks under the streamers of her skirt and squeezes her bare ass peeking from her tight panties.
The hum in my head revs up. A warning. I have to get moving.
I pat her ass and then relinquish my hold on her. “Work calls, babe.”
***
When I pull the Corolla into the office center, my phone clock reads a quarter till nine. A few other vehicles sit in the parking lot, and a little security cart trudges the perimeter. Security would normally be a problem, but I have Kevin Wodderspoon's badge on a lanyard around my neck. I now work here.
I don't like leaving my gun under the passenger seat, but I don't know what the security check points are like inside. Since Karl gave me a free pass into this building, I'm going to roll with it. No weapons. No breaking windows.
Instead, I'm playing dress-up. I'm wearing work pants, a black polo shirt, and dress shoes. A briefcase might have completed the look, but I didn't have one handy and couldn't be bothered going to the store. I doubt everyone in the entire building carries a briefcase at all times.
I cross the parking lot, heading toward the glowing glass front doors. Inside, the lobby is wide, with tile floors and turnstiles. The security desk is vacant.
Just as I think I'm in luck, a woman enters from a door behind the desk. I halt, unsure if I've already given myself away somehow. She nods at me and takes a seat at the station, then stares down in front of her at something I can't see. Monitors, I assume.
Lingering is a bad idea. People who work here wouldn't linger. So I move forward, grasping the badge. I'm already sweating.
This is the easiest wish I've ever had, and I'm going to screw it up by being nervous.
Just scan the fuckin' badge, Dim.
I do. The turnstile clicks and lets me pass through.
Into Bowser's lair.
I let out a silent breath in relief as I head to the elevators on my right. One of the cars is already descending, so I wait. The doors slide open with a ding. A woman steps out and makes her way toward the turnstiles. She doesn't even glance at me.
I press the elevator button for the fourth floor. My mind reels for what could go wrong so I can try to head it off. Maybe the elevator will get stuck. Maybe someone who knows the real Kevin Wodderspoon is going to cross my path.
If there even is a real Kevin Wodderspoon. My picture is on the badge. Maybe Kevin is just another fabricated persona.
A slightly less sane guy would have an identity crisis.
The elevator lets me off. I'm already into the next level of the castle.
The hallways are empty except for a janitor pushing a large trash bin in the opposite direction. As I wander farther, checking the office numbers for my destination, I pass a break room. Inside, a television is blaring and coffee is filling the air with its warm, bitter scent. Someone's heels are clicking around. I don't look. Head down, keep walking.
I follow the turn in the hallway. The office numbers, punctuated by the occasional open conference room, are counting down to my door. I spot my target and focus my attention on the scanner mounted on the wall next to it.
One swipe, and I'm halfway through this dungeon.
I scan the badge and—nothing.
Can't be.
I scan it again. Nothing.
My gaze is fixed onto the scanner. Is the badge reader broken? Can I ask security to let me in? If they run my badge, will they find a problem—like I don't belong here?
Oddly enough, my heart isn't pounding. I'm not even sweating anymore. I think I'm in shock. I have no backup plan.
What could I do, anyway? Shoot up an entire office building? That sort of goes against the low key policy.
One or two cops I can handle. An entire SWAT team, not so much.
This genie has no superpowers. Just a persistent little hum that makes him do stupid shit. And he needs an answer—now.
I'm by no means a guru at locks, but I have jimmied one or two open in the past. I walk back the way I came and flip on the switch in an open conference room. The fluorescent bulb lights up. I lean into the hall, verify both directions are clear, and then investigate the lock. The knob is lever style, and the front of it looks identical to the ones on the office doors.
I might be able to break in, after all, but that's going to require a jaunt.
The security guard pays little attention to me as I exit the building. Back in my Corolla, I use my phone to search for a nearby hardware store. It closes in less than an hour. I floor it all the way, squeal tires as I pull in, and jog across the lot.
I slow my pace as I enter the store, then scan the aisles. I have no idea where the hell anything is. The hum gives me a nudge to start looking.