Chapter 61
But only once a year, and no longer than a week. Jesus, but a man had needs. And the longer these days played out, Matt was beginning to think he had more needs than most.
As he had threatened, he wore the handcuff nut ring to Roxie’s party. The gathering started at eight, but by seven-thirty, Matt was the only one getting ready to go—Vic sat on the couch in a white undershirt and jeans, his pants unbuttoned, zipper half-undone, as he flipped through the evening paper. He glanced up as Matt came into the living room, curls disheveled and still damp from the shower, a towel around his waist and his bare chest still beaded with water. “Damn,” he said, folding the paper to get a good look at Matt. “Change of plans, mister. I’m having a private party and the only person invited is you.”