Hey There, Delilah…

a Taboo Love series (book #1)

By:

M.D. Saperstein

and

Andria Large

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental.

Except for the original material written by the author(s), all songs, song titles, and lyrics

mentioned in this novel are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

illegal. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or used in any
manner whatsoever, via the Internet, electronic, or print, without the express written permission of the
authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For more information, or information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the authors:

Taboo_Love@aol.com

M.D Saperstein at:

www.facebook.com/MdSapersteinAuthor

Andria Large at:

www.facebook.com/AndriaLargeAuthor

Edited by: Megan Hershenson
Cover Design by: Andria Large

Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, September 2013
IBSN: 978-1492781455

Acknowledgements

M.D. Saperstein

To my husband and kids – You are my everything. Thank you for all of your love and support.

Without you, I would not have had the courage to write this. And thank you for not making fun of me
all of those times I had conversations with Nick and Delilah in my head! I guess now that it’s done, I
can go back to sitting around eating bon bons and watching soap operas all day long.

To my parents – Thank you so much for all of your encouragement. I know that you would rather I

was writing legal briefs, not about men’s boxer briefs. I appreciate all of your input. I love you both
very much!

To Andria Large – The best writing partner a girl could ask for. You are the yin to my yang, and

I am so grateful that you have come into my life. And not just because your mind is as dirty as mine.
Thank you for forcing me to write that sex scene. Oh, and my hubby thanks you, too!

To Sara – Thank you so much for being our BETA bitch, er, reader. Your advice and opinions

have not fallen on deaf ears. It is so important to have someone as twisted as you in my life.

To Lynne - My best book buddy from across the pond. Thank you for your optimism and

laughter. I always smile when I see a message from you in my inbox. Pimp me out, lady!

And to the best editor in the world, Megan Hershenson. Thank you for keeping me on my toes. I

am nothing if not consistently grammatically correct. Your control freakery knows no bounds!

Acknowledgements

Andria Large

To my husband – Thank you for being supportive of me and my endeavors. I would definitely not

be where I am today, if not for you. I know it can be irritating at times when I’m writing instead of
cleaning the house, so thank you for putting up with me. Maybe one day I will make enough money and
we will be able to afford to hire someone to do it for me. Also, thank you for helping me “research,”
it definitely comes in handy. I love you!

To my girls – I know you are too young to even understand what I’m doing, but I hope that

someday when you find out that your mom is writing dirty romance novels, you won’t be
embarrassed. I hadn’t planned this, it kind of just happened. I love it, though, and I hope that when you
two grow up that you will find a job that you love to do, too.

To my parents – Thank you for being the greatest parents in the world. I know you are always

there for me when I need you. I hope that I make you proud. Mom, I’m so glad that I get to share my
books with you, and thank you for being honest with me about them.

To M.D. Saperstein – I never thought that when you in-boxed me all of those months ago that we

would be where we are today. You have become one of my best friends and confidants. It sucks that
we live so far away from each other; it doesn’t matter, though, because when you find someone who
has the same goofy and dirty humor as you do, then you can be friends no matter what state you live
in. This book never would have happened without you. You have no idea just how great of a writer
you really are. I can’t wait to write more books with you!

To Megan Hershenson – You are the best editor ever. Thank you for putting up with my horrible

grammar and punctuation. My books would definitely not be doing as well as they are without you.
Thanks for being anal-retentive. You da shit!

Of course, I cannot forget my friend, Jessica Carroll. Without you, I would not be a self-

published author with four – soon to be five – books out. Thank you, Jess, for your continued support!

Blurb

Hi, my name is Delilah Sampson, and I am a self proclaimed “frump girl.” My world came

crashing down the day I walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my boss, rendering me single and
jobless. A new job fell into my lap as the secretary of the gorgeous, rich, powerful, and mighty cocky
controlling partner at the Santino Law Firm. I spend my days trying to please a demanding boss,
keeping my lustful thoughts to myself. Until one night, when my best friend drags me to a club, and I
fall for a man whose true identity I will never know.

See, at Club Masquerade, everyone wears a mask and a nametag with a fake name. Also, on your

nametag is a number that you are assigned when you come into the club, which is linked to an in-
house messaging system; no one is permitted to speak, which ensures that identities are kept secret. I
meet my lover every Saturday at 9:00 pm sharp. We text and email constantly when we are not
together, and I have somehow fallen in love with him.

But, then there is Nick Santino. He is the partner that I can’t keep my eyes off. Unfortunately, the

only reason he hired me is because he is not attracted to me and all of my frump glory. Fortunately,
for me, I am a kick ass secretary, so he keeps me around. Like many men in his position, Nick is used
to getting what he wants, when he wants it; all without commitment, of course.

So when he finds a woman that he is both physically and emotionally attracted to, he finds

himself in unchartered territory – love. And I can do nothing but be jealous from the sidelines –
lusting for a man I can’t have, and loving a man I can’t know.

Hey there, Delilah is book 1 of a Taboo Love series, in which we tackle the boss/secretary

relationship. Each book will be a stand alone with a HEA, but will have a few reoccurring

characters.

Prologue

Nick

I am still trying to figure out how I got into this position. I don’t give up control for anyone.

Ever. Not at work, and certainly not in the bedroom. But I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I said I
would do anything to make it up to her. Anything so that she would forgive me and stop looking at me
with those sad eyes. Did I think she would want this? Hell no! But I am a man of my word, and if
this is what she needs in order to forgive me, then I will suck it up.

I am not exactly sure how she did it, but within minutes of offering her “anything,” I am naked,

tied down to my bed. My arms are tethered to the bedpost. She left me a little slack, and I guess if I
really want to, I could break free, but I want her to have the feeling she is in control. Of course, no
matter what she is doing, I am still in control. At least that is what I have to tell myself since not only
are my arms tethered to the bed, but somehow she got my legs tied down, spread eagle, totally
exposed. Shit! What is she going to do? I mean, we have always had great sex. She is always open
to experimenting with me, and trusts me completely. I guess it’s time for me to do the same – put my
trust into her. It’s the least I can do. Fuck!

“What are you thinking?” she asks, while she starts to strip.

“That I trust you completely,” I tell her, watching her remove her bra.

“And you said that you are willing to do anything, right? Anything to make it up to me… for

hurting me.”

“Yes, anything. Just come closer so I can see you.”

“Patience, baby. This is my show remember? I am in charge. It would benefit you not to start

with the orders. Cause the more you try to control this, the more I am going to enjoy what I have
planned for you.”

“And what exactly is it that you have planned?”

I can’t stand this anymore. It is torture trying to relinquish control to her. I try to focus all of my

attention on the beautiful naked woman before me. The one that I am totally, madly in love with, but
haven’t told my true feelings. What a pussy! Lost in thought, I am brought back to the here and now
when she starts to climb up my body. She is now completely naked, straddling my chest. She is too
far away for my tongue to reach, but just close enough that I can smell how aroused she is. I take a
deep breath and instantly get hard. I have never been with a woman that smells so good - cherries
and vanilla - she is intoxicating.

“I think we need to come up with a safe word.”

My eyes snap open to meet hers. “What? What the fuck are you planning that I would need a

safe word?”

“Nick, I am planning to do so many very dirty, very naughty things to you. You are going to ask

me to stop. You are going to beg me to stop. But I know you really won’t want me to stop. So
instead of ruining the moment, stopping this pleasure I promise that you will never forget, we need a
safe word. That way, no matter how much you beg and plead for me to stop, I won’t… unless I hear

that word.”

I look at her, dumbfounded. What could she possibly be planning that she thinks I will beg for it

to end? And who is this girl? My shy and innocent girl. There couldn’t possibly be anything she can
do that I haven’t at least thought of, or tried before. So I humor her.

“Macaroni.”

“Macaroni? That’s your safe word?” she asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah. It’s not something I would normally say during sex, and it can’t be mistaken for anything

else.”

“Okay, my Italian stallion, macaroni it is. Are you ready to get started?”

“Baby, I was born ready.”

We lock eyes, and there is a new spark there I don’t remember ever seeing. She has something

planned and I am beginning to regret this. I am trying to be nonchalant, completely unaffected, but now
I am really getting nervous. Why would she think I need a safe word?

Since my hands are tied to the bed, I can’t move one close enough to rub across my stubbled jaw.

I need a moment to find some peace, so I start humming the chorus of my favorite Plain White T’s
song.

Chapter One

Delilah

Hi, my name is Delilah Sampson, and I am ‘Frump Girl.’ I earned my nickname in High School,

but it was probably well deserved; ten years later, I have done nothing but continue to perpetuate that
recognition. You see, at five feet two inches, I have always been petite, and I won the genetic lottery
in that I never have to work out, can eat whatever I want, and keep my size two figure. What sucks,
although no man has ever complained, is that my size two frame has the impossible job of holding up
my thirty-two double D’s. Yeah, that’s right, by the time I was sixteen, I was fully developed, and
completely miserable. All of the guys would stare at me, and all of the girls would make fun of me
and call me ‘slut’ and ‘whore.’ I never even kissed a boy at that point, but you know how mean
teenage girls are. So from that day on, I wore the biggest shirts and baggiest pants I owned. I would
never show cleavage and avoided all of the parties. Add glasses and braces to the mix, and I became
a complete social outcast.

It wasn’t until my senior year, when my best friend, Charlotte

Fisher, moved in next door, that I

felt able to hang out and trust a teenage girl again. We walked to school together, ate lunch together,
and did our homework together. On the weekends, we hung out at the mall, went to movies, and
listened to music in my basement. Charlie was actually the one who told me what the kids at school
were calling me behind my back. While they were all gossiping and calling me ‘frump girl,’ she was
continuously telling me how beautiful I was, how she was jealous of my body, and how I should not
be dressing like I am embarrassed of my “goods.” I can just hear her now, “Lips, tits, and ass,
girlfriend – all of the supermodels are paying for what you were born with. If you got it, flaunt it.” I
love my best friend. She is whom I need right now, so I shoot her a quick text:

Delilah: Hey, Charlie. u busy?

Charlie: Hey , LaLa. What’s up?

Delilah: Could use a little girl time. Help pick out an outfit for my interview tomorrow?

Charlie: Where’s Ryan?

Delilah: Out

Charlie: Will be there in 10 min

Delilah: Thx, love u

Charlie: Love u2

Charlie is going to be here any minute, and I don’t know what I am going to tell her about Ryan

moving out. We tell each other everything, but I am embarrassed and still very angry. I met Ryan
Richardson our junior year of college. I couldn’t believe he would be interested in frumpy Delilah. I
was so insecure that I didn’t even realize he was interested until Charlie sat me down and gave me
the courage to go out with him, and we have been inseparable since. We were both business majors,
so we made sure to take all of the same classes. We ate, slept, studied, and socialized together. You
would not see one of us without the other. He was an athlete, and so gorgeous. He was my first

everything – kiss, boyfriend, sexual partner, and love. Our sex life was pretty healthy. I mean, we
were in our early twenties, so we did it almost every day. Nothing crazy or freaky; Ryan did not like
to experiment, but he always made sure I came first. And now, here I am, twenty-eight years old with
nothing to show for it. No boyfriend and no job.

Charlie arrived twenty minutes ago and she hasn’t yet realized that Ryan moved out. I distract her

with silly gossip and a bottle of wine. We discuss our favorite books and a few reality TV
competitions we both enjoy and I know I can’t hold out any longer. She is my best friend, the only
one who stood by me through my worst high school years. She never judges me, and I know she will
have my back now, too, but I am a little nervous about what she will do to Ryan once she knows. She
never really liked him to begin with, so I am even more embarrassed by the fact that I never saw him
for the snake that he is.

“Hey, Charlie. Do you think you can help me pick out an outfit for tomorrow? I have a job

interview and want to put my best foot forward.”

“Of course. Wait… what? What do you mean you have an interview tomorrow? Did you finally

quit that awful job with that bitch boss? She always treated you like you were her slave, not her
secretary.”

“Well, yes and no.” I answer her, not committing to an answer.

“Um, LaLa, it’s either yes or no. You can’t do both,” she said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Ugh, okay, are you ready for this? It’s kind of a funny story…”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah…Just yesterday…

My alarm feels like it goes off earlier and earlier every day. I am sure that it has something to do

with the fact that I hate my job, and that I hate my bitch boss even more. I have a college degree and I
understand the job market sucks right now, that is why I took this job as a secretary, but that doesn’t
mean I was hired to fetch her dry cleaning and pick up her dog from the groomer. I am damn good at
what I do, probably the best secretary she will ever have. I just wish I could quit, but Ryan’s
company is downsizing, and I may be the breadwinner for a while. Between rent, bills, and student
loans, we can’t afford for us to both be out of a job.

“Morning, babe. Time to get up.” I try to be cheery around Ryan. I don’t want him to think I am

unhappy with him, or think that I am a nag. I complain to him daily about my bitch boss, and I don’t
want him to think I am ungrateful for the things that he does for us.

“Good morning, Delilah,” he answers with a groan. He rolls over and heads for the shower. No

morning kiss, no playful swat on the butt, no morning sex. He has seemed off the past couple of
weeks, but I just keep chalking it up to him being nervous about his job situation. I mean, we have
been together almost eight years now, so I know when he needs a little space.

“How about I come meet you for lunch today? We can have a nice picnic in the park. Maybe a

little afternoon delight?” I ask, wagging my eyebrows, hoping to break him out of this funk.

“Sorry, babe. I already have lunch plans. Why don’t you meet up with Charlotte? Get out of the

office for a little while and get away from your boss. You are always saying that you don’t spend
enough girl time with her.” He stops speaking for a moment and just stares at me. It looks like there
is more he wants to say, but he just shakes his head slightly, and heads to the shower. He didn’t even
remember that today is my birthday. I guess that conversation is over.

The day is pretty uneventful so far. I called Charlie on my way to work and we picked a time

and place to meet for lunch. She is very lucky to have a cool boss that lets her come and go as she
pleases. She works at a talent agency that represents many A-list actors like Parker Hamilton.
Yummy! Guess she is lucky in more ways than one. Anyway, as long as her work gets done, he is
happy. As soon as the clock strikes noon, I make my way to meet Charlie for some long overdue girl
time.

She greets me with a big hug and kiss then smacks me on my bottom. “Happy Birthday, old

lady!” Leave it to Charlie to always remember. Like I said… best friend.

Conversation between us always flows easily. We talk about the men she is dating. If there is one

girl who could balance three different men at one time, it is Charlie. I bring up Ryan, and his odd
behavior this morning, as well as the past couple of weeks, and she agrees with me that he is
probably under stress from work. She also uses that excuse for him forgetting my birthday. But as far
as I am concerned, there really is no excuse. I shrug my shoulders and agree, tentatively. My gut is
telling me differently, but I know that Ryan would never do anything to hurt me. He loves me.

It is time to head back to work, and I am dreading it. I keep telling myself that it is Thursday,

which means tomorrow is Friday, which means I have a whole weekend away from the Bitch. But I
am brought back to reality when my brain reminds me that it is still actually Thursday, which means
all of my work needs to be done by tomorrow, which means I better make sure there are no last

minute changes to any of the files I am working on.

As soon as I get back to work, I make a quick stop at the ladies’ room then head to the Bitch’s

office. I don’t want any surprises tomorrow that will force me to work late. I am just about to knock
on her door when I hear noises. Is she being beaten? Raped? I can’t tell if she is screaming in
pleasure or pain. But since I know she would never do something as unprofessional as voluntarily
have sex at the office, my endorphins kick in and I ram my shoulder into the door, knocking it open
with a loud thud.

If it wasn’t my life that was just decimated, I would say the scene before me was nothing short of

comical. Ryan, my live-in boyfriend of eight years, who only likes missionary position, has my bitch
boss, who I complain about daily, bent over her desk doggie style. She has a ball gag in her mouth,
looking like a stuffed, baked pig, and he is wearing leather chaps with his ass and cock hanging out. I
know I am going to laugh about this one day, but this mental picture will not escape me any time soon.
As soon as they realize that I am staring at them, my mouth gaping open, they start scrambling for
clothes. I am actually pretty proud of myself for the way I handled it.

I walk over toward her desk, pick up her ripped panties, walk them over to her, and say,

“Consider this my resignation.” Then I turn toward Ryan, shake my head with a knowing smile, look
him dead in the eyes, and say, “I quit you, too. Anything of yours still in my apartment at 5:00 pm,
will be donated or thrown out. Leave your keys in the mail slot.” I hold my head high, look straight
ahead, and leave. I walk to my desk, grab the few personal items that I do have there, leave the
picture of Ryan and me, and don’t look back.

As the elevator doors slide closed, I catch a quick glance of Ryan running toward me yelling. I

can’t make out every word, but it is something like, “I am so sorry. I love you. Please, let’s talk about
this.” I guess he doesn’t realize the time to talk was before his cock entered the Bitch. Aw, shit, he
wasn’t wearing a condom with her, was he? Guess I will hit the clinic before I head home. Happy
fucking birthday to me!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Still Delilah…back to today…

Since this all went down yesterday, I haven’t spoken to anyone about it until now. I also haven’t

cried or broken anything. I guess I was still in the denial stage. Now that Charlie is here, and I have
rehashed those horrific three minutes, I am feeling a combination of anger, sadness, and self-pity. Add
a bottle of wine to the mix, and you can imagine I am not a pretty sight. In fact, I am a hot freaking
mess!

A tissue box appears in front of my face; I take a few and sob a “thanks.” Charlie sits back down

on the couch – I didn’t even realize she had gotten up – and waits patiently while I bawl my eyes out
over everything I just lost. How could I have been so blind? All of the signs were right in front of me.
Between the lack of sex, and the distance that was growing between us, I feel like such a fool for not
picking up on it sooner.

“I…I feel like I wasted eight years of my life. I thought we were going to get married. ” I

blubber as I dab at the snot running out from my nose. I take off my glasses to wipe them down
because they are so salt stained from my tears.

Charlie places her hand on my knee and squeezes it. “It’s okay, LaLa. You’re going to be fine;

you are going to find another man who is going to treat you so much better than Ryan Dickardson ever
did,” she says, practically spitting Ryan’s name out of her mouth. I smile slightly at the new nickname
she just gave him.

I sniff and reel in my emotions. Charlie is right, of course. Crying over a slimy snake like Ryan is

not going to get me anywhere. I have a job interview tomorrow, and I need to get ready. I dry off my
face and blow my nose, and Charlie gives me a gentle smile and a nod of approval.

“That’s my girl. Now, pick yourself up and dust yourself off, because Ryan is an asshole and he

has no idea what he is losing. He just doomed himself to a life of misery because he will never find a
woman as awesome as you, LaLa. You know he is going to try to come crawling back to you any day
now.”

I nod and take a deep breath. I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. “I need your help picking out an

outfit for tomorrow.”

Charlie and I move to my bedroom and open my closet. She sucks in a sharp breath then turns to

look at me, her teeth bared in disgust. I shove my hands on my hips and glare at her.

“What?” I demand.

“Your clothes suck ass,” she says, not one ounce of remorse in her tone.

“Yeah, well…you suck ass,” I mutter. God, that has to be the worst comeback line I have ever

come up with. I am usually much wittier; the whole boyfriend/job situation is throwing me off my
game.

Charlie rolls her eyes at me before she starts digging through my stuff. She picks out four outfits

and turns me into a runway model, and not a good one I might add. She makes me put on all four
outfits and then walk back and forth in front of her. After the fourth outfit, I am now irritated, so I
smack my hands against my thighs.

“Come on, Charlie, pick something,” I huff.

“Your clothes are awful! I’m having a hard time deciding which one is the lesser evil!” She

cries, throwing her arms up.

“I don’t have time to go shopping.” I grunt, crossing my arms…okay, it was more like resting my

arms on my chest.

Charlie growls. “Fine, just wear the black suit.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

“No, but it’s the best thing you have. You really need to buy new clothes that fit you better.”

Charlie sighs, glancing at my closet.

“I like my clothes, they are comfy.” I pout, smoothing out the shirt I am wearing.

“And that is how you know that they are crap; cute clothes are not comfy,” Charlie says wryly,

her eyes glittering in amusement.

I shrug. “I’d rather be comfy than cute.”

Charlie looks at me as if I just grew another head. “What the hell is wrong with you? Every

woman wants to look cute,” she insists.

I roll my eyes. “I have my reasons and you know what they are, so let’s not go there.”

“Fine, whatever, just wear the black suit. You’ll look…acceptable.” She winces at her choice of

words.

“You’re such a bitch!” I chuckle, knowing my best friend means well. Charlie never lies to me,

so she will not tell me I look cute or sexy when I clearly don’t.

We laugh and tease each other some more before she leaves, and I am glad that she came over.

She didn’t say too much about Ryan, but she didn’t need to. She was here for me when I needed her,
and that is all I have ever asked of her. I am one lucky girl to have such a fantastic friend. I take a
deep breath and look down at my black suit where it lays on my bed.

“It’s just you and me tomorrow. Make me look good, okay?” I say, talking to the suit. “Holy shit,

I’m losing my goddamn mind. I’m talking to inanimate objects,” I mutter to myself, raking my hand
through my long wavy hair. And now I am talking to myself. Great!

I clean up the mess that Charlie and I made and get ready for bed. I need to get a good night of

sleep so that I can be at my best tomorrow. If I’m lucky, I will get the job and not have to worry about
dipping into my savings. If not, I will officially be the biggest loser, and just might have a nervous
breakdown.

Chapter Two

Nick

Most people think I am a player - a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy – but that’s because they

don’t really know me. Or shit, maybe they really do know me, and I am the bastard that
everyone seems to think I am. But I never used to be this way. There was a time in my life that I
thought love was the ultimate goal and that being in a committed monogamous relationship was the
most incredible achievement. Then I turned ten, and realized that’s all a bunch of bullshit. And as I
got older, I learned that women are good for one thing – a good fuck.

My parents married young, and my mom was only nineteen when she had me, her only child. We

lived a comfortable life. I don’t remember ever wanting anything I couldn’t have, within reason, and
always saw my parents showing affection. It wasn’t uncommon to catch them sneaking a kiss when
they thought I was sleeping. It was my tenth birthday, and I remember it like yesterday. My mom
planned this awesome Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

party for me at the house, and all of my friends

were coming over. She even hired a man to come over dressed like Michelangelo, my favorite
Turtle. When I went upstairs to get dressed for the party, she gave me a kiss and told me she was
running a quick errand to pick up my birthday cake. She never came back. No note, no explanation,
no reason. With no siblings, it was just my dad and me from that day forward. In fact, two weeks
from today will be my twenty-third anniversary of being abandoned by the only woman I have ever
loved. That’s how I celebrate my birthdays.

I have only been with a few women since that day that I would even classify as being in a

“relationship” with, and they have all been the same, and end the same – by me telling them to hit the
road.

This last one was with Veronica, and she lasted six months before she started hinting at wanting a

ring. Now every woman in her thirties should know by now that those words are the kiss of death.
That or the whole biological clock shit. Don’t bring those things up to your man unless you are trying
to give them a reason to kick your ass to the curb. There was no way in hell I was going to marry
Veronica. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful, and her body was ridiculous, but the sex was shit
and she was a “gimme” girl. You know the type, all they do is take, take, take. She would suck the
life out of me if she could. And not just in the bedroom. We had to eat at the best restaurants, go to
the coolest clubs, have front row tickets to hottest shows, and pretty much make sure she is seen by
everyone. Meanwhile, in the six months we were together, she didn’t give me jack shit – not a thank
you, not a home cooked meal, and definitely not a satisfying blow job.

So you see, my mommy issues may not be an excuse for being a total prick to women, but maybe

it can shed some light on the importance I place on honesty, loyalty, and an equal give and take
relationship. And since that woman doesn’t exist, all I look for is someone I can screw and then leave
me the fuck alone.

This brings me to why today I have to eat my own shit and bear it. I had to clear my schedule of

the important work that I should be doing, to interview for a new secretary. Since I couldn’t keep my
dick in my pants, I ended up screwing my last one over my desk and apparently she confused me
banging her with love. She quit when I told her that she would be nothing more than a quick lay. Okay,

so maybe I am a cold-hearted prick, but I did nothing to lead her to believe it would be anything more
than it was. I made that bed, so now I have to fucking lie in it - no pun intended - with all of these
dumb, useless, unqualified, albeit hot, women the agency sent over for me to interview. There will be
no more beds, and definitely no more lying in them, or on desks, or couches, or walls. Aw, shit.

Why can’t they just send over someone educated, experienced, and completely unattractive so I

can just focus on my work and not on her tits and ass?

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I just arrived at the Santino Law Office for my interview. I am so nervous, so I made sure to get

here early enough to give myself the chance to freshen up and calm down a bit. I called my mom after
I quit yesterday. I didn’t give her any details because I was still in such shock. I always complain to
her about the Bitch, so she just assumed I quit because of her – if she only knew the half of it.
Anyway, she told me that a woman that she plays bridge with is the receptionist at a law firm, and that
she heard her a few nights ago say that there is a position open as the secretary for the controlling
partner. My mom told me to show up for an interview at 9:00 am sharp, and ask for Carmella.

So here I am, ten minutes early, and I meet Carmella, a really sweet older lady by the way. She is

probably in her mid-fifties and has jet black hair, clearly dyed. She has it styled in that stereotypical
old lady helmet, which she probably only has to style once a week because there is so much hair
spray in it. She is wearing a mauve color button down silk shirt with a black polyester skirt to her
knees and black orthopedic shoes. You know, the ones that nurses always wear because they are
always on their feet. Oh, and she also has the required strand of pearls around her neck and matching
earrings. She is the antithesis of my DeadHead mom, but apparently a kick ass bridge player, so she
is always welcome to the games.

After the warm greeting, Carmella brings me to this conference room, waiting for my turn to be

called. Oh, yeah, I said my turn. That’s because there are half a dozen other women here
interviewing for the same position - my position. Since my mom is friends with Carmella, I was
feeling really confident last night and this morning. Now that I am in this room, looking at all of my
competition, I realize that I don’t have a shot in hell. Mr. Santino obviously has a type he is looking
for. It is almost like a casting call in here. I wonder what the job ad said: Prestigious New York
Law Firm partner seeking super hot blonde bimbo secretary. Must be over five feet ten inches, wears
micro minis, six-inch stilettos, and have had at least two cosmetic procedures under her belt. Oh, and
make sure your tits are hanging out. College degree or experience not required.

Okay, so maybe that is a little harsh, but looking around it is blatantly obvious that he might as

well have posted a personal ad. I am wasting my time sitting here. But then again, what else do I
have to do? No job, no boyfriend. Shit. I pull out my e-reader and get back to my new fictional
boyfriend. Lord knows he won’t cheat on me. I am totally into this new erotic genre and am
engrossed in the most incredible sex scene. The main character is this hot Italian actor, and what he
is doing to the girl is indescribable, nothing I have ever experienced with Ryan. I know that nobody in
this room knows what I am reading, or even realize I am even in this room – not one bimbo even
looked at me when I walked in, clearly they know I am no competition - but my face must be turning
red from the steam emanating off the pages. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to have a man do those things to
me. Just as I am about to get to the climax scene, I am brought back to my craptastic life when
Carmella walks into the room and calls for me to come with her.

I follow her through a maze of offices and cubicles. My mind is still swimming in the book when

Carmella opens the door and I catch sight of him. Oh.my.God! I blink a few times and shake my head
to see if I am imagining it. It just can’t be… my Italian stallion is standing in front of me, and hot damn
reality is better than fiction! He has dark shiny brown hair that looks like he is a week past needing a
trim; it looks as though it was neatly slicked back when he got to work, but has since run his hands

through it – definite sex hair. Either he has been frustrated with the previous interviewee selection,
or he seriously got down and dirty with one, or more. He has a strong square jaw and at least a few
days worth of stubble, and is probably in his early thirties. His eyes are an exquisite emerald green,
and when our eyes meet for the first time, my legs go weak. I can’t tell how tall he is exactly because
I am so petite, but he looks at least a foot taller than me. And he is built. I don’t mean trim and lean
like a runner, I mean built like a boxer or MMA fighter. It is really hard to see what exactly he has
going on under that suit, but I can just tell that whoever gets to experience what’s under there, is one
lucky lady.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

“Mr. Santino, your nine o’clock interview is here,” Carmella’s voice says from the speaker of

the phone on my desk. Carmella is the sweet older receptionist that makes the best chocolate chip
cookies ever.

I hit the speaker button on my phone. “Thanks, Carmella. Can you bring her back, please?”

“Absolutely,” she replies.

I stand and button my designer suit jacket, smoothing out the lapels and straightening my tie in

preparation. I like to look my best. I can’t deny the fact that I’m a good looking dude. I skirt the desk
when I hear a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” I call.

Carmella opens the door and waves my interviewee in before giving me a sweet smile. I give

Carmella a wink in return. My attention is drawn to the horribly dressed young woman walking into
my office, and I frown. What the hell is that? She has that dull, mousy brown mane of wavy hair that is
hanging limply down her back, and there is no make-up on her heart shaped face. I can’t tell what
color her eyes are because they are hiding behind a hideously outdated pair of glasses. And why
won’t she look at me?

“Thank you, Carmella,” I say with a nod and she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

“Hi, I’m Nicholas Santino, controlling partner,” I say, introducing myself, hand held out.

She places her dainty hand in mine. I shake it lightly afraid that I might break her arm if I am too

rough. She is a tiny little thing; tiny as in short, like a foot shorter than I am. I can’t tell you what her
figure looks like because it is completely covered up by an ill-fitting black suit. It is too big for her
and has no shape to it whatsoever. She doesn’t even have heels on, just wearing a pair of chunky
soled black shoes. One word fits this woman…frumpy.

“My name is Delilah Sampson,” she says softly.

Hoping to ease the tension, I say, “Oh, were you named after that Plain White T’s song, Hey

there, Delilah?”

Delilah grimaces. “No, I’m actually named after a Grateful Dead song. My parents were

DeadHeads.” She seems a little put off by my question. I wonder if she gets it often.

I nod. “Ah, I see. I get it now… Delilah Sampson… like the Dead song, just with the extra ‘p.’

Your parents must have a sense of humor.” If I remember correctly, it is also a story in the Bible. But
the way she reacted when I mentioned the Plain White T’s song, it may piss her off even more if I ask,
so I move on.

“Either that, or they were too stoned to come up with an original name,” she says with a chuckle,

and then a nose snort. She has just the right amount of awkwardness to keep me at an arm’s length. I
won’t have to worry about getting erections at inappropriate times around her, and that definitely
earns her points.

“Well, it seems like you inherited that sense of humor from them. Why don’t you come in and

have a seat,” I say, motioning toward the chair in front of my desk.

As the interview progresses, I can’t help but realize how perfect this girl could be as my

secretary. I don’t find her the least bit attractive, which really is the main reason why I need her
working for me. She is plenty qualified, and that helps, of course. She has a sense of humor, seems
sweet, and totally innocent - so not my type. I like my women a little wild and very, very bad;
although, the last one might have been a bit too wild. That is the reason I need a new secretary; my
previous one thought she was in love with me because I fucked her a couple of times on my desk.

“Welcome aboard, Delilah, I think you will make a great addition to our team,” I say, having

made my decision.

Delilah looks up at me. I can see that her eyes are hazel now. She looks a bit stunned as she

watches me stand and come out from behind my desk.

“Really? I have the job?” She squeaks.

“Yes, you have the job. That is, if you want it.” I smile and hold my hand out for her.

“But you haven’t asked me any questions about my qualifications or past experience. Don’t you

want to know why I left my last job?” I can’t decide if she is that confident that she wants me to know
the answers, or if she is so insecure and unsure as to why I just offered her the job.

“No, Delilah. Once I make a decision, I don’t like to second guess myself. Your resume is

impeccable and you present yourself very professionally. You have demonstrated that you have
manners, are respectful to authority, and have a sense of humor. All qualities you need to work in a
stressful environment, such as a criminal law firm.”

She jumps to her feet and shakes my hand fervently. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Santino, I really

appreciate it!” she replies excitedly.

“Before you accept, please understand a few things. We will be working very closely together,

and I need to be able to trust you with everything – professionally and personally. All of our cases
are subjected to privacy laws, and you will be held to that standard. Anything you see or hear from
the moment you sign on will be considered privileged information. I expect you to be here on time
every day, and never leave before me. That may mean that you are here really late some nights. If you
have someone at home relying on you to be there at set times, this job may not be for you. Because
people don’t commit crimes strictly between nine and five, we are both considered on call, all day,
every day. I may call you in the middle of the night to meet me at the jail or to help bail out a client.
Again, if there is something at home that would prevent you from jumping when I call, this job may
not be for you. Lastly, even though we will be working long hours and spending a lot of time
together, I am still your boss. We won’t have a personal relationship, we won’t share stories or
feelings, and anything you see or hear will be private and kept to yourself. If you can accept all of
these conditions, I would really like for you to join my firm.”

“Mr. Santino, I don’t have any trouble with what you just said. I don’t have anyone at home

waiting for me. I don’t have a boyfriend, husband, or kids.” As she said that last sentence, she looked
down and away from me. Up until then, she kept eye contact and appeared confident with herself,
despite the despicable outfit. I wonder if I hit a nerve. Oh well, not my problem.

“Great, Delilah! Oh, and one more thing, as long as there are no clients present, call me Nick,

everyone else does. ” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood again.

I’m glad she is so excited about getting the job. I like having people on my payroll who are

willing to work. Delilah seems like that type of person - willing to work, keeps to herself, and does
not cause trouble. I cannot afford to have any more whack-jobs working for me. I am trying to run a
serious business here and I don’t need the distractions that attractive women cause. I can’t help
myself sometimes, a man needs to get laid. Frump girl here? She won’t disrupt my focus.

Not that she is ugly, per se, but she has no style and no clue on how to present herself. I can see

that she can possibly have the potential to be cute, but not without a lot of professional help. I rather
her stay frumpy, though, because I am a selfish prick.

“When can you start, Delilah?” I ask her.

“Oh, as soon as you need me,” she chirps.

“Can you start today? We can get started on your training.”

“Yes, absolutely!” She smiled brightly. Still no hard on - this is going to work out perfectly.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I stuck around for training until just after five, but I didn’t get to see Nick again. Apparently, he

is preparing for a huge trial that I will be working on next week. I got the opportunity to meet a few
of the other attorneys on our floor; surprisingly, they were all men. I also met all of their secretaries,
and guess what? All blonde, all tall, all supermodels. What the hell am I doing here?

It’s finally Monday, and I get up an extra hour early today to make sure that I have plenty of time

to eat a good breakfast, prepare my lunch, and make sure to get to my first day bright and early. There
is just no way I will be leaving my job at lunchtime for a while. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that
crap. I want to arrive before Nick, to show my dedication, and prove my worth.

I walk through the doors at 8:30 am, with half an hour to spare. Carmella greets me with a proud

smile, knowing she is the reason I even knew about the interview. I ask her to point me toward our
private kitchen again because this place is a total maze, and ask her how exactly Nick takes his
coffee. His office is set aside from the rest of the firm, so we almost have an entire wing to
ourselves. From what I have been told, which isn’t much since I have only been here half of a day, is
that he likes, strike that, he demands his privacy. He doesn’t like to be interrupted while he is
working, and nobody gets to him without going through me first. My desk is situated just outside of his
door. He has a windowed wall surrounding his door, so we have direct line of vision to each other. I
imagine that is so he can make sure I am keeping busy and not wasting time; it was drilled into my
head hundreds of times yesterday, “time is money.” Anyway, he has a beautiful view of the city, and I
have a fabulous view – of him!

At 9:00 am on the dot, not a minute late, I catch a glimpse of him walking through the door,

offering Carmella a gentle smile and a quiet “good morning.” He is just so stunning that I have a hard
time taking my eyes off him. He is wearing a perfectly tailored suit again, and his hair looks a little
damp, as if he just stepped out of the shower. He has a messenger bag slung across his shoulder, and I
am mesmerized. As he approaches our office area, I stand up to greet him, coffee in hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Santino, may I take your coat?”

“Hey there, Delilah, it’s Nick, and yes, you may. You are here early today. I appreciate your

promptness,” he says, sounding impressed. My mind wanders for a moment and I wonder how bad his
last secretary was that he is so impressed that I made it in on time. Then I realize that he just
referenced the song, and figure he is trying to get a rise from me. I give him a knowing smile, and he
rewards me with a quick chuckle.

“Sorry… Nick… I just want to make sure you have your morning coffee, and have today’s

schedule ready for your review. You have a full day,” I say, proud that he acknowledged my extra
effort. He squints his eyes at me, as if he is a little confused, takes the coffee, and thanks me. He tells
me to grab my note pad and follow him into his office so we can start our day.

The rest of the week is pretty much the same. I get there before Nick every morning, make sure

he has his coffee and schedule, and he gives me a confused look before we start our day. I have not
received any more compliments or reaffirmations since Monday, and I am starting to worry that he is
not happy with my performance. Beside Carmella, there is no one here that I really connect. We are
so isolated in our wing; the only chance I get to talk to the other employees is if I eat with them in the
regular lounge, as opposed to our private kitchen. Even if I do that, it’s not like I trust any of them

enough to reveal my insecurities.

Chapter Three

Delilah

I slept in this morning for the first time in months. I make myself a breakfast mimosa, turn on

some relaxing tunes, and slip into a hot bubble bath. I completed my first week at the Santino Law
Firm, and am pretty proud of myself. I bounced back, despite all of the shit that was thrown at me.
Quit suck ass job: Check. Throw out cheating, lying bastard of an ex: Check check. Get a better,
higher paying job with a totally fuckable boss to stare at all day. Check check check.

I am not sure if it is the alcohol, the music, or the hot bath, but I am completely relaxed. My mind

wanders back to when I first laid my eyes on that beautiful Italian stallion. The more I think about
him, the hornier I get, and there is no way I can go through the rest of the day without pleasuring
myself. I touch my lips picturing what it would be like to kiss him, wondering what it would feel like
to have his scruffy beard rasping against my silky skin. I allow my free hand to start at my neck and
slide down to my wet breasts. I clamp my fingers around my left nipple and roll it, giving it a small
tug. I am trying to imagine what it would feel like if Nick were here in the tub with me. Would his
hands be soft and smooth from working in an office, or rough and calloused from working out in the
gym so much? I can’t imagine he would be anything other than an alpha male in bed, just as he is at
work, totally in control. I am so turned on right now that I could probably come without going any
further. I decide to allow my hand to explore a little more and rub it over my sex gently, making sure
not to enter, teasing myself. When I just can’t handle the teasing anymore, I allow my fingers to
separate and enter my sex. My thighs tighten, clamping my hand there for a moment, trying to stay my
release. My thumb wanders up to my clit, and that’s it, I am lost. I start to come really hard, moaning
Nick’s name.

Seconds later, still in my daze, I hear my cell phone ringing. I know it’s going to be Charlie

begging me to go out tonight, so I don’t pick up. I really don’t want to go to any night clubs; I am not
ready to pick up a new man. But the phone begins to ring again. I already spoke to my parents this
morning, so I know it isn’t them. I guess I should check it out, so I lean out of the tub and peek at the
caller ID - it’s Nick! Shit, shit, shit! I scramble to get my now orgasm induced jelly legs to move fast
enough to answer, knocking my glass onto the tile floor, shattering everywhere. I hop to my phone,
trying to avoid slicing my foot open and answer.

“Hello?” I answer out of breath. Oh God, I hope he doesn’t figure out what I was just imagining

him doing to me. Nick just gave me the perfect excuse to avoid going out with Charlie tonight. As
soon as I got off the phone with him, I slip on a comfortable outfit – he said casual - and head to the
office.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

It is Delilah’s first weekend on the job and I have to call her into work. We have a big trial

coming up next week and I am not even close to being prepared. So far, she is the best secretary I
have ever had. She is always early, arranges my schedule, and has my coffee just the way I like it, all
before I even walk through the door in the morning. None of the other employees say boo about her,
she never misses a phone call, the clients respond well to her, and she is respectful toward everyone,
even the known criminals. I have not had a single disruption, and she screens all potential clients to
make sure they are worth my time. All that, and I still don’t want to fuck her - I have found my perfect
work wife.

The first few times she hands me the coffee I must have a funny look on my face because she

always cocks her head sideways, as though she wants to ask me what I am thinking. But ever the rule
follower, she doesn’t say a thing. Remember, we are only colleagues; we don’t share personal stories
or feelings. Although, if she ever works up enough courage to ask, I would probably tell her. Plain
and simple, she impresses me. Maybe I should tell her on my own. Chicks like to be complimented;
she may not give me wood, but she is still one of them.

It’s Saturday at noon, and Delilah arrives early, as usual. I told her to dress comfortable, but this

is just ridiculous. She is wearing what looks like her father’s Grateful Dead t-shirt that is probably
twenty years old and ten sizes too big. She has on the baggiest jeans I have ever seen that I can’t
imagine how they are staying up, and the oldest, rattiest pair of sneakers. Her hair is in a messy bun
on top of her head held together with a pencil, and she isn’t wearing a lick of make-up. And, of
course, her dreadful glasses…are they crooked? What the hell? She looks homeless. I guess I
should be thankful that she keeps reminding me that I am not attracted to her - well, at least not
physically; I would be lying if I said her work ethic and strong sense of self isn’t fucking with my
head just a little. It takes a special kind of woman to be able to walk out of the house looking like
this, and not giving a shit about what others say.

“Hey there, Delilah. Thanks for coming in. I know it’s not ideal to have to work on the weekend.

I hope I am not keeping you from anything.” I am not sure why I am saying these things to her.
Normally, I don’t care if someone else is inconvenienced, especially if it benefits me. Shit, I am going
soft!

“No problem, Nick. I really didn’t have any weekend plans. In fact, my best friend keeps trying

to talk me into going out on the town with her and I was running out of excuses why I didn’t want to
go. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t just catch that song reference,” she says with a wry smile. She is so
open and honest with me. And witty, too. It really is refreshing. I just can’t figure out why she doesn’t
meet my eyes.

“Before we get started working, and I forget, great job on your first week. You really have gone

above and beyond my expectations.” Fuck, now I am complimenting her without her even phishing. I
need to get some pussy tonight and prove what a man I really am.

“Thank you very much, Nick. I was actually concerned that I wasn’t performing up to your

standards. You’re not really forthcoming with the compliments.” She looks down again and starts to
blush. Maybe her self-confidence isn’t as high as I assumed it is.

“Well, as a token of my appreciation, and to prove my trust in you, I am going to give you a firm

cell phone. All of the expenses are paid for, but it is to be used only for firm business. This way I can
call, email, or text you, and you don’t have to worry about running up your personal cell phone bill.
Also, if you need to reach a client after hours, they don’t have access to your personal number. All of
my numbers are programmed in, as well as the other firm attorneys, and local bail bondsmen. As we
discussed at your interview, all of these numbers, and anything discussed, emailed, or texted, is
considered privileged.”

“Thank you so much. Not just for the phone, and the trust you have in me, but for reaffirming my

worth. It’s been a long month.” We make eye contact for a brief second, but in that moment, I see a
sadness that I never noticed before. She blinks and then I see a sparkle that I have seen before… in
other women. Aw, shit. I better get away from her for a few hours, and go work in my office, alone.
I definitely need to get laid tonight. Double shit.

I tell Delilah that I am going to my office to make a few phone calls and write my opening

statement for the trial. I direct her to review all of the discovery in the conference room, and use the
phone intercom to call me if she needs anything. A few hours alone with my work usually distracts
me from whatever or whomever my dick shouldn’t be thinking about.

Of course, it is not working. I have been utterly sidetracked, and I refuse to let my work suffer

because of it. Maybe I should call Julianna and have her come to my office for a pre-trial meeting.
She is the lead prosecutor on the case we are prepping for, and we have a little history between us.
She may be a formidable opponent in the courtroom, but in private, she is the perfect stress reliever -
she does as told, knows there is no emotion involved, no nagging or jealousy, no commitment, and no
cuddling after. In fact, when I am done, she knows to get her shit and leave. My only complaint is
that it is humdrum. Don’t get me wrong, I get my rocks off every time, and I make sure she is
completely satisfied, but something is missing. She tends to be quiet while I am drilling her, and I
would rather hear my woman moan when I please her. And I need to find someone willing to
experiment with me. Maybe it’s time to hit Club Masquerade.

Now my mind is completely engrossed in thoughts of Julianna and finding my next conquest at

Club M. My jeans are uncomfortably tight, and I know there is no way I can get any work done
without relieving myself. I get up from my desk, peer out the window to see if anyone is around, and
lock the door. I know that nobody else is here besides Delilah and me, and she is up to her eyeballs
in discovery in the conference room, so the coast is clear. I sink back into my executive high back
leather chair and unbutton my jeans. I slide them down just far enough so that I have access to my
throbbing dick. I wrap my strong calloused right hand around my growing shaft and start pumping
slowly. I am so horny that pre-cum has already leaked from the head, and I use it as lube for my
magnificent ten inch cock.

I picture Julianna’s lush ass bent over my desk as my hand begins to pump faster. I am definitely

a tits and ass man. I like my ladies lean, but curvy and soft. I don’t want it to feel like I am fucking a
muscular dude, or so thin that I’m going to break her in half. I want a woman who has luscious hips,
pouty lips, and a natural rack. I can’t stand all these fake plastic airheads. Yeah, of course, I will
screw them, a pussy’s a pussy, but they won’t get much further than that with me. But I digress… I
reach down to wrap her jet-black hair around my wrist, but when I look down at the bundle, it is
brown. I yank on it to see her face, and holy shit, it’s… Delilah? Sonofabitch!

I open my eyes immediately and shake my head, trying to stop where my mind just wandered.

This is not good. I grip my cock again, even harder this time, and start yanking it angrily. I will not
allow her to enter this aspect of my life. I am her boss; there is nothing personal between us. Yeah,
keep telling yourself that, buddy! I spank myself for another two minutes until I come hard. My
body jerks in relief and I sag into my chair. That can never happen again, I reiterate to myself. Just
as my breathing comes back to a steady pace, the intercom beeps.

“Hey, Nick. You there?”

“Yeah. Ahem. Excuse me, I have something caught in my throat,” I answer her like a teenage

boy who just got caught by his mom with porn.

“It’s 6:00 pm, and I am really hungry. Should I order some dinner for us?”

“Sure, of course, no problem. Come to my office in fifteen minutes. I just need to clean up, er, I

mean finish up what I am doing.” Shit! I am a babbling idiot. Oh God, I hope she doesn’t figure out
what I was just doing in here.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I arrive at the office earlier than he requested, but maybe that will help with getting through the

work quicker, so I don’t have to come back tomorrow. I head past Carmella’s desk, which is dark,
and stroll through the maze of empty desks and offices. It is almost eerie it is so quiet; I guess we are
going to be the only ones here today. When I catch sight of Nick, he is bending over a file box,
rubbing his stubbled jaw. I’m starting to think that is his signature move. Like when he is frustrated or
stressed. Maybe it helps him relax and find his happy place. I just wish instead of his jaw, he was
rubbing it between my legs. Fuck me.

He must hear me come in because he immediately stands up and turns to face me, a shy smile on

his face. Along with his tight worn jeans, that are hung low on his hips, he has on a skintight heather
grey t-shirt, that is perfectly molded to his chest. I can finally see his muscular arms, and they do not
disappoint. I can also tell that his chest is rock hard, and his abs must be ripped by the way it is
pressed against his body. His thighs are thick enough to fill the jeans and he is barefoot. He did say
casual. How am I going to be productive with him looking like this? He is a God, an Adonis – an
Italian Stallion. Moreover, although it is usually the man in this position, he could be my downfall,
my Delilah; and I, his Samson.

We have a brief conversation. He finally gives me the compliment I was waiting all week to hear

and then gives me a firm cell phone. I am so proud of myself. I mean, I know I rock at what I do, but
the acknowledgment and appreciation is certainly nice to hear. I avoid direct eye contact with him
because one, I am embarrassed by what I was doing in the bath when he called, and two, I don’t want
him to see the lust in my eyes. But after those kind words, I pull up my big girl panties and look him
straight in the eyes. We lock gazes for a brief moment, and then he makes an excuse to go to his
office, and sends me to the conference room. Five minutes ago, I was wonderful and fabulous, and
now he can’t stand to look at me. Way to go, frump girl.

I walk into the conference room and eyeball all of the file boxes full of discovery – the

information (the official charging document), police report, evidence, witness lists, and depositions,
just to name a few. We are working on a felony-murder case, and apparently, Nick has been working
on it for almost a year before I arrived. We represent Joey (I can’t tell you his last name for
confidentiality reasons), and he was the getaway driver - allegedly - in a bank robbery gone badly.
Allegedly, while his partner was inside the bank, his gun accidentally went off, killing the manager.
Since the police consider Joey to be acting in concert with the other offender (who will remain
nameless), he is being charged with the same offense, murder. And even if Joey didn’t have specific
intent to kill in the commission of the felony, he can still be charged with murder. And if that doesn’t
suck, get this, the (alleged) accomplice flipped on Joey, and is now one of their leading witnesses.
He still has to be on trial for the murder, in order to charge Joey, but the prosecutor lessened the
degree for his cooperation in naming Joey. Nick filed a motion months ago to sever and separately
try them as individuals, as opposed to jointly, so they won’t be tried as co-defendants in the same
trial. This way, we can attack his credibility and come up with a plausible defense. What is our
defense? Duress.

Let me explain. Joey and this asshole (let’s just call him Tim for the sake of this story) grew up

in a rough area of Harlem together. They started out committing petty crimes, until one day Joey, when

he was fifteen, was arrested for stealing his mom’s car. A few weeks later, Tim shows up at juvenile
hall for running drugs, and they end up roommates. Now at the time, Tim was a year older than Joey,
and a lot bigger and stronger. He always had his back, and protected him from the bullies and other
gang members, keeping him safe. When Joey was released first, all Tim said was, “You owe me, and
one day, I will collect.” And apparently, ten years later, he came for what he promised.

Joey was released from juvie six months later, and ever since, he has stayed out of trouble. He

finished high school, graduated college, and worked an honest living. He helps take care of his
mother and siblings, and hasn’t been pulled over for so much as a speeding ticket. But the day Tim
was released, all hell broke loose, and the shit hit the fan. He came back to collect.

According to Joey, who tells a completely different story than his counterpart, Tim showed up at

his house in the middle of the night threatening to kill him if he didn’t help him commit a bank
robbery. All he had to do was drive the getaway car. Drop him off in front of the bank, wait five
minutes for him to return with the money, and drive back home. If he agreed to do that, they would be
even; if he didn’t agree, he would be dead. Sounds like duress to me. But just in case you need more
convincing, as I am sure Nick will remind the jury, here is the definition of duress, according to
Black’s Law Dictionary. “Any unlawful

threat

coercion

used... to induce another to act [or not act]

in a manner [they] otherwise would not [or would].”

Seems like a slam-dunk case to me. I have been working pretty closely with Joey this past week,

and would really like to see him get a favorable outcome. He has worked so hard to turn his life
around, and he deserves this second chance. I just hope Nick can convince the prosecutor Julianna to
offer a reasonable plea bargain. I am pretty sure I overheard someone say that they know each other
well, whatever that means. Nonetheless, I would enjoy making that call to Joey.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Still Delilah

It’s approaching 6:00 pm and my stomach is growling. I need to eat something if I am going to

stay any later. I ring Nick in his office through his intercom and ask if he would like me to order
dinner for us. He says to order and for me to come to his office in fifteen minutes, and then hangs up
abruptly. He seems…off. I don’t get the chance to ask what he wants or what he is in the mood for,
and I know he eats healthy during the week because I order his lunches, but I am craving pizza. So I
make an executive decision and order it. Oh, and I order a salad for him, just in case he is a total
health nut.

I order dinner from the local pizza parlor around the corner - a large pizza supreme, and a chef

salad – and run down to the café in the lobby for some soda, beer, and bottles of water. Better to have
a selection for him to choose. I am not one of those chicks that picks at their rabbit food in front of
men. I enjoy eating, and if you don’t like me because I eat like a regular person, then we just aren’t
meant to be together. And there is nothing like pizza and cold beer. But, technically, we are at work,
so that’s why I got the soda and water; I will let him choose first, and follow his lead. It’s not like we
are on a date, anyway; I don’t need to impress him with anything other than my secretarial skills.
There’s no way a perfect ten would be attracted to someone like me…a total frump girl.

About fifteen minutes have gone by, so I make my way to Nick’s office. I can’t figure out why he

wanted to stay away from me all day, but I’m guessing it’s because of the way I act and dress. I must
have offended him somehow, but again, he did say casual. I think maybe it is time to let Charlie
renovate my wardrobe.

I knock on Nick’s office door, even though I can see through the glass wall that he is not at his

desk. A few minutes later, he enters his office through a hidden back door, I later find out is his own
private bathroom. He waves at me to come in and points to the chair in front of his desk, so I take a
seat. Why does he make me so nervous? Probably because he is the most gorgeous man that I have
ever laid my eyes on. Not to mention the fact that I was fantasizing about him pleasing me less than
eight hours ago. But in a strange turn of events, he seems to be the one avoiding eye contact with me
this time, rubbing his hand furiously against his stubbled jaw more often than usual. I must really look
heinous. I mean, I know I am dressed in my usual frump garb, but I have always been told that I have a
beautiful face. All he has to do is focus above the neck.

We spend the next forty-five minutes reviewing the case and all of the documents I had been

studying in the conference room. My cell phone rings just as we are finishing Tim’s deposition, and it
is the pizza deliveryman calling to tell me that he is in the lobby waiting. Nick offers to go
downstairs to retrieve it, but I wave him off. But before I can even get out of my seat, he is already
out the door, leaving me in his dust. I guess he is going to get our dinner.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I am coming out of the private bathroom in my office when I see Delilah standing at the door.

She must have knocked once already because her profile is to me and she is looking down – her usual
modus operandi lately. I am still a little flustered from jerking off, and seeing her so soon after is
throwing me for a loop. I look at her a little more closely knowing that she doesn’t know I am here. If
I imagine her hair down and styled, wearing properly fitting clothes, and sexy kitten heels, she would
probably be decent looking. Okay, maybe a little more than decent looking…cute even. She has
exotic hazel eyes that change colors depending on what she is wearing, or her mood – how the hell do
I know that? - a tiny button nose that turns up just slightly at the tip, and sexy ass pouty lips. Fuck, did
I just say sexy? Dammit! I meant pleasant… pleasantly pouty lips. No, you said sexy, asshole.

She lifts her head, and our gazes lock briefly. I look away quickly, not wanting her to be able to

read my thoughts through my eyes. I catch myself rubbing my hands through the short hairs on
my jaw, and immediately drop it. I seem to be doing it more and more lately. It used to have a calming
effect, but ever since Delilah started, it has become more of a nervous habit. I wave her in and tell her
to sit across from me. We waste the next forty-five minutes going over all of the documents she had
been reviewing most of the day, while I was avoiding her, slapping my Italian salami.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was planning to call Julianna and persuade her to offer a

plea deal. If that goes through, all of our hard work will have been for naught. I also didn’t tell her
about my history with Julianna. I’m not sure why I feel like I need to keep that from her, but I am
positive I don’t want to know the answer to that. Delilah’s phone rings and she says it’s our dinner
downstairs. I jump out of my chair and make my way to the door so I can be the one who goes down
to the lobby to pick it up. Lately, I find any excuse not to be alone in a room with her. Another puzzle
I have no intention finding out the meaning behind.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Nick is already heading back to his office, and he has the strangest look on his face. Like he is

trying to solve an expert level Sudoku math puzzle.

“Hey there, Delilah. I gave you free rein to order whatever you want for dinner – on me - and

you order yourself a salad, and me a pizza?” He asks me, clearly confused. His eyebrows knit
together, and he is looking at me as if I am the insane one. Doesn’t he know he has been acting
completely weird these past few days?

“First of all, don’t you think the song reference is getting a little hokey? Second, the

pizza is for me; the salad is yours. Third, what did you expect me to order? You hung up before I
even had the opportunity to ask you what you wanted. And lastly, how much do I owe you? I always
pay my own way. Unless I am on a date, of course.” I glare at him with my right eyebrow raised,
right hand on my hip, left one flailing around. I know he’s my boss, but it is the weekend, I am here to
help him, and he is acting really smug. Then I internally face palm. Why the hell did I bring up that
this is not a date? Dumb ass!

“Okay, okay. Chill out, Delilah. I was just asking a question, no need for the dramatics.

But to answer your questions: First, no, I don’t think it is hokey. It makes me laugh, and I know you
secretly enjoy it. I see it in your eyes when I say it. Second, there is no way I am eating a fucking
salad when this pizza is in front of me, smelling better than a hooker after a shower. I am not a fucking
rabbit, and I don’t eat their food. Third, pizza is perfect. It would be even better with cold beer. I
guess I just assumed you would be like all my past assistants and either order the most expensive
thing they could find, since they always assume it’s on my dime, or that the salad would be yours.
Most chicks wouldn’t dream of eating pizza in front of a guy, unless they are married or related to
them. And lastly, this may not be a date, but my mother would kill me if she found out I let a woman
pay for her own dinner in my presence.” We stare at each other, like two cowboys deciding
whether to duel or hang the white flag. I think he realizes that I am not a wimpy pushover, and flashes
me a panty-melting smile.

“Fair enough,” I say, “Let’s eat. Oh, and if you weren’t so busy lecturing me from way up there

on your high horse, you would have noticed that I have beer, soda, and water here for us to drink.”

“Touché, Delilah, touché.”

“One more thing,” I add, just as he is about to take a bite of pizza.

“Yeah?” he answers, eyeing me curiously.

“I’m not like any of your past secretaries. So please don’t compare me to them.”

“No, no you’re not,” he confirms, shooting me a sexy wink. Kill me now.

We start eating in comfortable silence. He grabs a beer and chugs it, spilling a little down his

chin. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to lick it off. I reach over past Nick for my own beer, my breast
accidently rubbing against his arm. His body tenses for a brief second, but I caught it. Then he took a
deep breath. Did he just sniff me?

“Oops, sorry. My girls are so big, they are always bumping into things,” I say, not really

meaning my apology. “And did you just sniff me?” I ask incredulously.

“No problem, I didn’t even know you had those things under all the baggy clothes you always

wear. And I wouldn’t exactly classify it as ‘sniffing’ you. I happened to take a breath when you
leaned past me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you do smell good, like cherries or something
sweet?”

I know this really isn’t an appropriate conversation to be having with my boss, but I think that the

beer is starting to loosen him up. He is so uptight around me; this may be my only chance to have a
normal conversation with him.

“Well, the baggy clothes issue is a story for another day. As for me smelling good, thank you. It’s

just the lotion I wear - Japanese Cherry Blossoms from Bath & Body Works in the mall - nothing
exotic or special. ” I sigh, shrug my shoulders, and shove more pizza into my mouth.

“Do you have any good stories you want to share, now?” he asks. He sincerely seems to want to

get to know me. I guess he really didn’t mean to sniff me, he probably was actually just taking a
breath when I leaned past. I am so foolish sometimes. Wishful thinking I guess.

“Like what?” I ask, a little skeptical.

“I don’t know. Tell me…How did you end up in my office last Friday? I’m sure you weren’t on

my list of pre-approved resumes. And the employment agency usually only sends over these blonde
bombshells with huge tits and no skills,” he answers, rolling his eyes.

“It’s a long story, and it’s kind of humiliating. You sure you can handle it?” I ask hesitantly, not

sure if I really want to share with my boss one of the worst days of my life.

“Fuck yeah! Give it a whirl.”

“Okay, but let me just finish my beer first. I may need a little liquid courage.” Here goes

nothing…

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

Holy shit she has big tits! Delilah is full of surprises. First, I tell her to order dinner for us and

she gets us pizza. Pizza! Every other secretary I have ever had, strike that, every other woman I have
ever known, would have either ordered lobster and caviar, or a dainty crap salad. Then, she has the
nerve to ask to pay half. If I were a lesser man, I would be insulted. She continues to astound me by
offering me a cold beer. What did I do to deserve the best secretary ever?

But when she leaned past me to grab her beer, I almost choked on mine. She is always wearing

such baggy, ill-fitting clothes, that I would have never known how big her tits are. It makes me
wonder what else she’s got going on under there. She is so petite that I think she has a rockin’ bod -
all soft and curvy, just the way I like it. Shit! I really need to stop thinking about her this way. But by
the way she chugs beer and scarfs pizza, it’s probably more logical to assume she’s a little chub and
totally out of shape. Yeah, let’s go with that theory. Definitely not my type - thank God! And I can’t
believe she calls me out on sniffing her. I am totally busted, but I think I am convincing enough so that
she believes I am just coincidentally taking a breath at the exact same time. Fuck me! I need to get a
grip. I haven’t been laid in so long that she is starting to get under my skin.

However, then she lays it on me. The crème de la crème. The piece de resistance. The shit

storm that descended on her last Thursday. The story of how she ended up working for me, and
fucking with my head…

“Let me just give you a little back story first, so you can understand the complete and utter Fuck-

trastrophy I went through in order to get here.” She begins, and for some reason has my complete
attention.

“I graduated from college with my business degree eight years ago, and got an awesome offer in

my field right away. I excelled at my job and was even employee of the month a few times,” she says
proudly. I nod my head for her to continue.

“And then the economy took a nose dive and the company I was working for went under, so I

found myself unemployed. While at my job, I made several contacts in the legal field, and decided to
take a temporary job with a firm until the economy swung back. That’s how I ended up as a secretary
for the Bitch.”

“The Bitch?” I ask, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, that’s what I called her. She was the most arrogant, self righteous, egotistical…ugh…so I

just always referred to her as the Bitch,” she says now getting annoyed. There is something so cute
about her when she starts talking rapidly using her arms. Crap, stop thinking of her that way! She is
telling me the story about the worst day of her life and I am not supposed to be looking at her that
way. I am her boss; we have no personal relationship.

“Do you want more? Or is that enough sharing for tonight? You seem a little spaced out,” she

says with a shy smile. I think she is avoiding telling me what really went down.

“No, go on, go on. You have me enthralled,” I reply with a smirk, as I take another bite of pizza.

“Fine. So it was last Thursday, just like any other day, except that it was my birthday. I woke up

with my alarm, lying next to my handsome boyfriend of eight years.” She takes another swig of her
beer, and I can’t help but watch her lips wrap around the bottle.

“You have a boyfriend? You never leave during lunch to meet up with him. Wait, at your

interview you said, ‘no husband, no boyfriend, no kids.’” This is an interesting bit of information.
Did she lie to get the job? I am starting to get pissed off. I do not like liars!

“Do you want my story or not?” she asks. I nod my head and she continues.

“Okay, so for the past few months he had been kind of distant with me. I knew that he was really

stressed at work, and so I just assumed that he was distracted from it. But then Thursday happened,
which I now refer to as ‘the worst day of my life which coincidentally led me to this incredible job so
was probably the best thing that could have happened to me!’”

I chuckle briefly at her description of the day and wonder if she is going to tell me the details of

what really happened. She is quiet for a few moments, takes a deep breath, and continues.

“That morning, like I said, was like every other week day. Except when he got out of bed, it was

as if he was avoiding me more than usual, popping out without so much as a kiss. I knew that I
complained to him a lot about the Bitch so I avoided the topic completely. I asked him if I can come
meet him for lunch, or even a quick screw, but he turned me down for both. He told me that he
already had lunch plans and convinced me to call my girlfriend to meet her for lunch for some ‘girl
time.’ Almost like he was doing me a favor. So that’s what I did.” She shrugs her shoulders and
looks to the ground, seeming embarrassed.

“He turned down sex? That should have been your first clue that he was up to no good,” I tell her,

trying not to make her feel even worse. I can tell by the way that she can no longer make eye contact
with me that what she is going to say next could break her. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you
don’t want to, Delilah. I can tell that this is bringing back powerful emotions.” What the hell is
wrong with me? Why the fuck do I care how she feels?

“No, no, I think saying it out loud will help bring me closure. I need to move on, and not let what

happened dictate where I go from there. It doesn’t define me. I am whom I am despite of him, not
because of what he did to me. “

I catch myself staring at her and shake my head hoping to rid all thoughts hanging around. I don’t

even know the full extent of what she has been through yet, and I am already so awed by her. She is
exactly whom I assumed she is – confident, strong, self-assuring… shit, I am in trouble.

She starts talking again and that brings me out of my thoughts that I certainly should not be

having. “So I met my girlfriend, Charlotte, for lunch and we had a great time catching up. We
discussed my situation with Ryan, and she convinced me that he loves me too much to hurt me, and
that he was probably just stressed from work, as I was thinking all along.”

She finishes off her beer and stands to grab another. She raises it toward me, asking me

nonverbally if I want another, I nod, and she grabs another for the both of us. Even in the middle of an
emotionally charged, trauma-filled story, she is still thinking about me and taking care of me. Who is
this woman?

She takes a long swig and looks at me as she continues. She looks so defeated, her eyes so sad,

any earlier sightings of a sparkle completely gone. But she is looking at me, as if she needs me to
give her the strength to continue. So I smile and say, “Hey there, Delilah. You got this. Get it all out
so you don’t ever have to think about it again.” She has turned me into a God-dammed mother

fucking pussy!

She takes a deep breath and spits out the rest of the story so quickly that if I didn’t know her, I

would think it was completely made up. This shit is so insane it couldn’t have really happened.

“I got back from lunch and walked in on my boyfriend fucking my boss over her desk.”

Fuuuuuck. And that’s why I never share personal shit with employees.

Chapter Four

Nick

I am sitting at my desk, staring sightlessly at the paper in my hands because I’m thinking about

what’s going to happen when Julianna gets here. She is going to expect me to fuck her on my desk as I
usually do, but after what Delilah told me, I find that I can’t put her in that position again. It just
doesn’t seem right.

Julianna is going to be one tough cookie to deny, though. I am seriously attracted to her, but only

on a physical level; she is a good enough submissive in bed, but she can be a real bitch in the
courtroom and out. I almost jump out of my skin when my phone beeps and Delilah’s sweet little
disembodied voice fills the room.

“Excuse me, Mr. Santino. Ms. Ramirez is here for your meeting,” Delilah says.

“Great, send her in.”

I take a deep breath and blow it out. I can do this. I can fight my baser caveman instincts and not

have sex with Julianna right here in my office, on my desk. Technically, we are meeting to talk about
a plea deal, not to fuck. I am in control of this situation, always have been, and I will not be swayed
by the Latina goddess about to walk into my office. I stand just as my door opens and she walks in
with a seductive smile on her face. I sneak a glance out the windowed wall separating me from
Delilah, and I see her trying her best not to watch, but her eyes keep lifting to see what is going on.

I stand and stick my hand out over my desk for Julianna. “Ms. Ramirez.”

She stops dead and stares at my hand before lifting her eyes to my face. “What are you doing?”

“Saying hello and shaking your hand?” I offer, trying not to wince at the confused look on her

face.

“Since when?” She demands, her dark brown eyes narrowing.

“Since I got a new secretary,” I say through my teeth in case Delilah can read lips for whatever

reason. “Just shake my hand and sit down.”

Julianna scoffs, and shoots a glance in Delilah’s direction before she shakes my hand and sits

down in the chair in front of my desk. She brushes her long, nearly black hair over her shoulder as she
crosses her long toned legs. For being Latina, she is fairly tall at about five feet seven inches, without
heels on. She is built like a freaking supermodel and has the most beautiful perpetually tanned skin I
have ever seen. Her face is so gorgeous that I have no one other than Jennifer Lopez to compare her.
One physical downfall? Fake tits. Either way, my goddamn cock is already straining to come out and
play. Julianna leans forward a bit, purposely showing me her cleavage. Damn her!

“Don’t you want me, Nick?” She purrs, her dark eyes blazing with desire.

“It’s not that I don’t want you, cause I do...” I say, stopping when she stands and comes around

my desk. “Jules, what are you doing?” I sigh and rub my stubbled jaw with one hand.

“Taking what I came here for,” she says and starts unbuttoning her blouse.

Luckily, her back is to Delilah.

“Julianna, stop! I’m not doing this right now.” I insist, trying not to stare as she parts her blouse,

showing me her voluptuous rack encased in red lace.

Fuuuck! Of course she wears the one thing that is guaranteed to make me cave…red lace, I

fucking love it! I scrub my hand over my mouth, sure that I’m drooling. I lift my gaze to her face, and
she is giving me a knowing smirk, which automatically pisses me off. Who the fuck does she think she
is? I’m the one in charge here, not her! I’m the one who gets to say whether we have sex or not, not
her.

“Close your blouse, Julianna…now,” I say firmly.

Her smile slips and she hastily buttons her blouse back up. I push out of my chair, forcing her to

back up. I move toward her, crowding her personal space as I lean down to get in her face.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I call the shots here. This is my office, so when

I say we’re not going to fuck right now, that’s final, understand?” I growl angrily.

Julianna swallows hard and gives me a nod.

“Good, now go sit down, we will go over the details for the case, and then I will get us a room

for tomorrow night.”

She collects what pride she has left and sits in her chair. “Okay,” she replies softly.

I glance at Delilah before sitting down at my desk, and she is staring a little too hard at her

computer. Who knows what the hell she thinks is going on in here. Shit! After Julianna and I hash out
a plea deal, I walk her to the door.

“Thursday night works for you?” I ask, confirming that she is free to meet me tomorrow to get our

fuck on.

“Yes, tomorrow night is fine,” she says quietly now that she has been firmly put in her place.

As she walks out, I go to Delilah’s desk. She is studiously ignoring me.

“Hey there, Delilah, can you do me a favor?” I ask. I have found that I enjoy teasing her about

the song now. It is rare for me to find a woman I enjoy witty banter with, and she rewards me with a
quick eyebrow lift.

Delilah finally looks up at me. “Sure, Nick. What’s up?” she asks warily.

“Call up the Ritz and book a room for me for tomorrow night,” I say with a slight smile. Asking

her to do that for me feels uncomfortable, and a little creepy. Like she is my madam, setting up my
next trick.

“Oh…I…um, yeah, sure, no problem,” she stammers, dropping her gaze again as she pulls up the

internet on her computer. Great, now we are back to no eye contact! I can’t afford to lose her as my
secretary, she is so fucking fantastic at what she does. Note to self: from now on, book your own hotel
rooms for doing the nasty. Although I know she will always be discreet, she doesn’t need to be
subjected to my dalliances.

“Put it on my credit card and give me the details later,” I say then start for my office, rubbing my

hand across my stubbled jaw, trying to work out in my head what just happened. I could have hit that
quick, but chose the higher road…because of Delilah? Crap!

I walk into my office and shut the door. I go over to my desk chair and drop heavily into it. I try

to rub a kink out of the back of my neck that suddenly formed from all of the aggravation that Julianna

caused. I am certainly going to have to punish her tomorrow night for her behavior. I am definitely
looking forward to that.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Today is Thursday, which means tomorrow is Friday. It used to be one of my favorite days of

the week. Until that Thursday happened, of course. Now I wish I could skip them all completely.
Well, maybe not this one; today is going to be a good day.

I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I kept replaying the day as it unfolded. Ms. Ramirez completely

caught me off guard. I mean, I knew he had a meeting with the lead prosecutor to discuss Joey’s case,
but I certainly didn’t expect her to look like that. It figures that she would be drop dead gorgeous. I
didn’t even want to stand next to her to walk her into Nick’s office, so I just called him through the
intercom. Chicken shit.

I tried not to watch their interaction, but rumor around the office is that they have something going

on. They seemed pretty professional, as far as I was able to see, that is until he came out and asked
me to book a room for them. I felt so defeated. I am not sure why because I know in my head that he
will never look at me the way he looks at her – I caught him checking out her ass when she left. But it
still hurt. I guess because somewhere deep down I know that I want him, and I really am worthy. I
may be frump girl, but I am smart and honest and giving and a hard worker and have a kick ass sense
of humor. But he will never look at me like I am sexy or sophisticated or his.

I guess the one good thing that came of their meeting is that she offered Joey a good deal. I am so

happy for him.

I shake yesterday out of my head, stretch my arms, and hop out of bed. I set my alarm early this

morning because I have something special planned. I smile at myself for my ingenuity. When my
mom told me that I had an interview with the Santino Criminal Law Firm, I made sure to Google the
Firm to get any details I could. During my search, I found a little piece of information I plan to use
today.

Since I couldn’t sleep last night, I made use of my time baking a cake. I go to the kitchen and pull

it out of the fridge, readying it to be frosted. After weeks of working closely with Nick, and ordering
and picking up all of his meals, I have also learned what exactly it is he likes for breakfast. So I pull
all of the ingredients out of my fridge to prepare him his perfect home cooked breakfast – an egg
white omelet with chopped vegetables, whole wheat pancakes topped with fresh strawberries, and
freshly squeezed orange juice. I also asked Carmella if she knew his favorite dessert, so I will pick
up some fresh cannolis and a coffee from his favorite café on my way in to work. I laugh at the
thought of how he is going to react. I know he will pretend to be unaffected, but there is no way this
won’t at least make him smile. And that makes me smile even wider.

He is not a huge chocolate lover, so I made a banana cake, and am going to frost it with a peanut

butter cream cheese concoction that I have always gotten rave reviews on. I pull out the fondant I
had resting in the fridge and start making balls with them to decorate. At least to him they will look
like balls. To me, they are tiny meatballs…my way of paying homage to the nickname I bestowed
upon him the first time I laid my eyes on him – my Italian stallion – a nickname he can never find out.
It’s my own sort of payback for all the times he teases me about my name. I would never let him know
how much I love it, like he said before, he can see it on my face. Thank God he can’t read all of my
thoughts. Anyway, I chuckle to myself as I place the meatballs on top of the cake in the shape of the
number “33.”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

a little more Delilah…

I made it to work with ten minutes to spare. I had to wait a little too long at the café for Nick’s

cannolis and coffee and was worried he was going to beat me here. There is no such thing as
customer service anymore. I want to make sure everything is perfectly set up before he gets in.
Carmella saw me carrying everything in and offered to help, but I want this to be all me. I placed the
omelet and pancakes on a glass plate, got him silverware from the kitchen, and poured his coffee into
an insulated mug. I also found one of those metal dome thingys to cover it all with to keep it warm.
Score! I put the orange juice and cannolis in the fridge for later. It is going to be a day full of
surprises. I set the plate on his desk, along with the silverware and coffee. I usually hand him his
coffee in the morning, but it just looks so perfect on his desk, I leave it there meanwhile.

Right on time, I spy Nick walking through the door, giving Carmella a nod and smile. I am sitting

at my desk, pretending to be concentrating on a document on my computer screen. I feel him getting
closer, so I look up to an unhappy face.

“Good morning, Nick. Everything okay?” I ask, trying my damnedest not to jump up and yell in

his face.

“Hey there, Delilah. Yep, everything all right with you?” he asks, looking down at my hand, then

my desk, then my hand again. I know he is wondering where his morning coffee is but doesn’t want to
come out and ask. He is too funny.

“Everything is good here. Just working hard on closing out Joey’s file. I am so happy for him,” I

say, trying to distract him from the fact that I not only didn’t have his coffee in hand, but I didn’t
instantly stand to greet him.

“Great. Good job on that case by the way. We worked hard preparing for trial, but the best

cases are won out of court,” he asserts, as he turns and heads to his office.

“Thank you,” I throw at him as his office door clicks closed.

I sit back at my desk and act as if I am still working on Joey’s file. Not two minutes pass…

“Delilah! Get in my office!” I hear through the glass wall.

I run like the wind into his office. With a huff and puff, “Yes?”

“What is all this?”

“Happy Birthday?” I declare softly and innocently.

“What…but…how did you know?”

“Well, I am the best research assistant you have,” I say coyly.

“Delilah?”

“When I interviewed for the job. I wanted to make sure that I knew everything there was to know

about your firm, so I Googled,” I answer somewhat exasperated. I don’t think much more explanation
is needed so I shut up. I think he may be pissed. That does not bode well for everything else I
planned.

He nods his head slowly and replies, “I see.” He takes a deep breath and I don’t know if he is

going to yell at me or throw me out of his office. By the look on his face, he just might fire me! I turn
on my heel to leave asap.

“Delilah?”

“Um, yeah?” I throw over my shoulder.

“Thank you. You are the only one who acknowledged it. And thank you for taking the time to

make all of the things that I like. For even knowing all of the things that I like.”

“Jeez…you’re acting like nobody has ever made you anything just because they wanted to.

Today’s your special day. It’s no biggie,” I say rushing out before he has the chance to yell at me.

The rest of the morning has been pretty uneventful. I field a few calls from some family members.

I can only assume they are calling to wish him a “happy birthday” as well.

Just before lunchtime, I surprise him with the cannolis and orange juice. I think it is a crazy

combination, but Carmella was right, he sucks them down. I think I may have even caught him dipping
one in the juice. Ew! He doesn’t take me surprising him with them any better than he did with
breakfast. At first, I think that he is pissed again, but I have come to realize that he is genuinely
appreciative of my thoughtfulness; he just doesn’t know how to express it properly. I am almost
saddened by the thought that nobody else has done anything special like this for him. He works so
hard to fight for everyone else; I just assumed he has someone taking care of him. From now on, I
vow to take care of him, to make sure he always feels special. Like that will be a hardship. Psh!

He is going out for lunch with his father, so that will be the perfect time for me to sneak the cake

into his office. God only knows how he is going to react to this one. When I know it is time for him to
return, I head to the ladies’ room. I really don’t want to be here for this. I really am a scaredy cat!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

After a fantastic lunch with my father, I head back to the office. It’s been a weird day. Delilah is

really freaking me out with all of this stuff that she’s been doing for me today. None of my previous
secretaries had ever done anything for my birthday, let alone acknowledge it.

When I get back to the office, Delilah’s not at her desk, which is not necessarily strange. She’s

probably just in the bathroom. What is bizarre is that the girl never leaves this building for lunch. I
walk into my office and shut the door behind me, not paying much attention to my surroundings. I head
over to my desk and plop down into my chair. What’s the first thing I see? A freaking birthday cake!
A freaking birthday cake with little balls forming a “33” on top of it! What.the.Fuck? Did she
seriously bake me a cake?

I’m so stunned that I don’t even know how to feel. I’m humbled by her kindness, I’m pissed off

that all of my other secretaries were such bitches that only cared about themselves, and now I’m
hungry for some cake. I glance over in the direction of Delilah’s desk; she’s back and looking
seriously nervous and fidgety. I hit the intercom button on my phone.

“Delilah, can you come in here?” I ask, my tone sounding strange, even to myself.

“Sure,” she replies nonchalantly, but I know that’s all an act. She is completely terrified of what

I’m going to say.

I watch her as she gets up from her desk and makes her way to my office door. She’s wringing

her hands together and flicking worried glances in my direction. She opens my door and peeks her
head in.

“Yes, Nick?” she asks with a hesitant smile.

“Come in, Delilah, shut the door,” I reply dryly.

Delilah does as she is told but stays standing by the door. I raise an eyebrow at her and nod at the

chair in front of my desk. She takes a hesitant step before seemingly forcing herself to move. She sits
down and looks like she is waiting for a killing blow.

“What is this?” I ask, motioning to the cake in front of me.

Delilah winces. “A birthday cake,” she replies.

“You made it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I ask, obviously knowing the answer.

Delilah frowns. “Because it’s your birthday?” She says, somewhat confused

I stare at her. She is completely serious. I thought at first that maybe she was fucking with me

somehow, but now…now I can see that she is truly just being sweet and nice and caring. My heart
starts pounding. Could she seriously care about me in some way? Not necessarily in a love and
relationship kind of way, but in a friend way? It seems impossible to me. The only woman who ever
cared about me was my mother, and even she abandoned me. All of the other women in my life only

pretended to care about me to see what they can get from me. But Delilah has no reason to pretend -
we’re not together, she’s not my girlfriend, and I don’t buy her things – I am just her boss. I am
genuinely amazed by her, and admire her pure selflessness.

I nod slowly. “Okay,” I say.

Delilah’s frown deepens as she eyes me warily. “Okay?” she asks.

“Thank you, Delilah, for everything today. It means a lot to me,” I say sincerely.

Delilah’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “You’re welcome.”

“How about you go find us a knife and some plates and forks so we can eat this thing? It looks

delicious,” I say with a smirk.

Delilah blows out a relieved breath and smiles. “Okay, for a second there I thought you were

going to freak out on me.”

I chuckle. Oh, if she only knew how close I actually was to doing just that. “I have to keep you on

your toes,” I say, “Now go get that stuff so I can dive into this puppy.”

Delilah smiles brightly as she stands and heads for the door. My traitorous heart flutters madly.

God dammit!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

After we enjoy the cake, the rest of the afternoon is pretty mundane. Nick had to run out to his car

because apparently he left his messenger bag in it this morning. He stops by my desk once more for a
refill on his coffee, and then gives me a smirk and a wink before shutting himself away in his office. I
can see him through the windows as he walks around behind his desk and puts his bag down on it. He
starts rifling through it looking for whatever when he jumps and pulls his cell phone out of the inside
pocket of his suit jacket. He glances at the phone and smiles, immediately answering it.

I get butterflies in my stomach each and every time he smiles like that - a genuine, heartfelt smile.

He must really like whoever is on the other end if he is smiling like that. I wonder if it’s that Julianna
Ramirez woman? Nick shoulders his phone and continues to search his bag. He finally pulls out a file,
puts his bag on the floor next to his desk, then sits down in his chair. He continues to talk animatedly
with the person on the phone for the next half an hour. I catch him laughing heartily a few times and
just can’t get over how gorgeous he is.

Just before 5:00 pm, I look up from my work and see the most beautiful black man standing in

front of me. My eyes are wide as saucers, my mouth gaping open like a big mouth bass. Get your shit
together, Delilah! I snap myself out of the hot man trance, but I am sure my face is beet red.

“May I help you?” I manage to ask, sounding only slightly breathy.

“Hi, gorgeous! My name is Calvin King. I’m here to see Nick. Is he in?” he asks, smirking at me,

as his deep, rich voice wets my panties.

Calvin King. What can I tell you about Calvin King? He is an Adonis. He has milk chocolate

colored skin with really short black hair. It’s cut really close to his head; I wouldn’t say he is bald,
but from far away, you might think he is. He has a perfectly groomed goatee surrounding the most
luscious lips. And his eyes are a light brown, almost caramel colored. Mmm… I could get lost in all
that sugary goodness. Okay, don’t get me wrong, I am completely, madly, in lust with my Italian
stallion. Nick is, in my book, nothing short of perfection, but if that doesn’t work out…

“Sure. Of course. Is he expecting you?” I ask embarrassed, completely unable to make eye

contact.

“Yeah, we have dinner plans.”

I stand to walk into Nick’s office to ask if he is expecting Mr. King and I realize that he is even

taller than Nick. Holy shit!

“Give me one sec, okay?” I ask, as I head toward Nick’s door. I hope he doesn’t stare at my ass

when I walk away. Or maybe I do?

“Sure thing…” he pauses, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“Delilah. The name’s Delilah.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Like the song?”

I actually laugh out loud as I am walking in to Nick’s office and tell him who is waiting for him

by my desk. His face lights up and he jumps out from behind his desk to follow me out. Calvin is still
staring at me like he is waiting for an answer.

“If by ‘the song,’ you are referring to the Grateful Dead, then yes, like ‘the song.’ If you are

referring to the Plain White T’s, then I may punch you in the face,” I answer with a little attitude, but a
big smile and a wink.

Calvin lets out a hardy laugh then looks at Nick. “I like this one.”

Nick just looks at me, then back at Calvin and nods in agreement, keeping a completely

impassive face. Like he doesn’t want me to know that he likes me. What the fuck? I turn to Nick and
ask if he is off for the night. I would like to go home and take a long soak in a hot tub. Calvin has
made me hot and horny as hell. Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday. I really need the weekend to
relax and square away these feelings. Nick tells me that I can pack it up and head out. The two of
them turn to leave, but then pause.

Calvin holds his arm out. “Come on, little bit. Let us two ugly beasts walk that tiny tush of yours

out to a cab.”

I take his offer and walk arm and arm with Calvin as though we were walking into the prom.

Nick has this pained look on his face, but I am just too tired and flustered by Calvin’s over the top
complimentary behavior to care. It feels nice being noticed by a sex God. Maybe not the one I want,
but one just as hot, nonetheless.

Chapter Five

Nick

I glare at Calvin as he waves to Delilah as her cab pulls away. Calvin is a naturally flirty kind of

guy, but it is seriously irritating me that he is being flirty with Delilah. Not that I have any claim to her
or anything, because I don’t want her. Yeah, dumbass, keep telling yourself that.

“Dude, can you knock that shit off?” I grumble and start for the parking garage where my 2013,

candy-apple red, limited edition, V8, McLaren Spider Convertible, is parked.

Calvin turns to me with a rakish smirk. “She is super cute, my man.”

I roll my eyes. “You think anything that walks on two legs and has tits is cute.” I sigh.

Calvin chuckles. “True, but dang…”

“I’m hungry, let’s get out of here,” I say and jerk my head for Calvin to follow.

Calvin and I make it to the restaurant and are seated right away. We start chatting as we look

over the menu. I’m thinking about getting a nice juicy steak, needing something manly to eat since I’ve
been having all these sappy emotions lately. The waitress comes by to take our drink orders and
leaves blushing from Calvin’s flirty comments. Half of the time, I think he just does it for that purpose
alone, to get a reaction, or make women blush.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to see who it is. Julianna. Shit, I forgot all about

her. “I’ll be right back,” I say to Calvin as I get up from the table and answer the phone.

“Where are you?” Julianna snaps in my ear.

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it as I make my way through the tables toward the

front door. Who the hell does she think she is snapping at me like that? She must think that I put up
with being disrespected; well, she has another thing coming. I step outside and put the phone back to
my ear.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I growl.

“I am at the hotel waiting for you, Nick,” she replies, ignoring my question.

“Something came up, I’m not going to make it tonight,” I tell her.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” she squawks in my ear, “You’re blowing me off?”

“Like I said, something came up. You can stay in the hotel tonight if you want, on me.”

“You asshole! I don’t want to stay in a hotel room by myself!” Julianna shouts into the phone.

Alright, that’s it! “Listen, woman. I’ve had enough of you and your attitude. No one talks to me

that way, so I don’t know where you get off thinking that you can.” I snap. “Don’t call me again,
Julianna, unless it’s strictly business.”

“Wait! Nick!” Julianna cries frantically, but I hang up on her.

I really don’t need shit like that from a woman who I just fuck on occasion. I don’t know who she

thinks she is, because she’s nothing to me. I don’t care about her one iota. And I don’t deal with
women who have attitudes like that. I’m the one in charge, not her. I am always in control and I will

never relinquish that control to a woman. Never. My phone rings again but I ignore it. I will not be
speaking to Julianna again unless it is about a case.

I head back into the restaurant and take my seat across from Calvin. He raises an infamous

eyebrow in question. I just shake my head as if to say, “It’s nothing, forget it.” Calvin shrugs. That’s
why I love hanging out with him. No bullshit, no drama. He is so easy going; sometimes I wish I
could be like that. After the waitress leaves from taking our meal order, Calvin folds his hands
together on the table and leans forward.

“So tell me more about Delilah. Is she single?” Calvin asks with glint in his eye.

I know that glint. He wants to take Delilah out. Hell-to-the-no! That’s not going to happen!

Delilah is mine…I mean, she’s my secretary…and I can’t have Calvin screwing with her and making
her quit on me. Delilah is the best secretary I have ever had.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Do I look like her keeper?” I grunt, going for indifference, I don’t want

Calvin to think that I’m attracted to her in anyway, because I’m not. Mmm hmm, sure buddy.

Calvin rolls his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. She is really adorable, though, and she seems sweet. I

would like to get to know her better, find out what’s under those baggy clothes of hers, if you know
what I mean,” Calvin says, wagging his eyebrows at me.

Oh, I know what he means, because I want to find out the same thing. No I don’t. Okay, so maybe

I do. “Leave her alone, you horn dog. I will not have you cost me my secretary,” I warn, pointing a
finger at him.

“Oh come on! You’re no fun! I know! Let’s tag team her. Will you let me have her if you’re

involved?” Calvin smiles.

I try not to smile, but it just doesn’t work when I have this giant black man with a goofy ass grin

on his face sitting across from me. “No! We will not tag team her, and you will stay away from her.” I
chuckle.

“Dammit!” Calvin says, pretending to be disappointed.

I know he’s really not, though; he can get any woman he wants. Calvin is a very good-looking

dude, even I can see that. Women fall at his feet all of the time. Shit, maybe I need to keep Delilah
away from him. He doesn’t really need her, he just wants to see what she’s hiding under her clothes.
The conversation quickly turns to other things and Delilah is quickly forgotten…thank God.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

and Nick once more…

I am more confused than ever. I thought my dinner with Calvin and blowing off Julianna, would

give me time to think and figure shit out, but my head is fucking spinning. And now, I have to go into
work feeling this way? God dammit! I usually enjoy working; it helps me focus, but fuck, not today. I
am aggravated as hell. I just need to get through today and make it to the weekend. A visit to Club
Masquerade tonight should definitely help dull this headache.

It is finally the end of the workday, and I was pretty much an asshole to Delilah most of the day.

Maybe I should apologize, but she is partly the reason I am acting like a total selfish prick. She didn’t
do anything wrong, per se, but she is fucking with my head, and I have to blame someone other than
my unruly dick.

I am dressed and ready to go to the club, and if I don’t get in a good fuck tonight, my entire

weekend will be shot to shit. I am wearing all black tonight – shirt, pants, shoes, and belt.
That seems to be what most women have responded to in the past. I am not wearing any jewelry,
except for my Rolex Submariner, hoping to catch the eye of a bunch of women. I like to have my pick
of the litter. I don’t give a shit if she is a gold digger because I’m only looking for a one night lay. I
slick my hair back and slide my mask into place; it, too, is black, reminiscent of a Zorro mask. Now
all I need is the cape and sword. Well, maybe just a cape; I come well equipped with my own sword,
if you know what I mean.

I walk into Club M with one mission - find a hot piece of ass, and fuck her until Delilah is

entirely out of my head. I like coming here because of the complete anonymity. Of course, it helps
that I am tight with the owner so I get special privileges, like free drinks, free VIP status, and first
pick of the VIP rooms. And you want a VIP room. They all have different themes, and are already set
up to accommodate specific tastes, including all the tools of the trade. They all come with a basket of
condoms to choose from, but I always bring my own because the ones here never fit me right. I should
talk to Calvin about supplying me with some magnums. Your nametag is also designated ‘VIP,’ so all
of the women know you’re a big fish. And we all know how much easier it is to get a woman to
spread her legs when she knows how fat your wallet is. All of the other rooms are pretty average –
they just look like an upscale hotel room - and we all know I am not an ‘average’ kinda guy.

I give Monica a head nod when I walk in. She has been working the front for Calvin for years

and greets everybody by name. Well, at least the name she is given as I register, not my ‘real’ name. It
can’t be that difficult of a job since everyone has to register to get in, and is prescreened. I already
have my mask on and Monica has my VIP nametag all ready for me. Calvin must have given her the
heads up that I am coming in tonight. I trade with her my cell phone for an in-house messaging
system, and she adds my contact number to my nametag. From this moment on, I am no longer Nick
Santino - I am “Nico, #812.”

I walk up the two flights of stairs to get to the actual club, which is on the third floor. From this

point forward, there is no speaking permitted, and masks are required at all times, even while you
screw. There are a lot of security measures taken to make sure that there are no unwanted guests, and
I have to show my VIP pass to numerous people before entering. I walk through the ten-foot tall
wooden double doors into the main room. It is dimly lit, yet bright enough to be able to see the people
and read their tags to get their numbers to message. The walls are painted a deep merlot red and
there are chandeliers hanging almost every twenty feet. When Calvin first told me the color scheme he
chose, I immediately thought it was going to look like a bordello, with skanky hookers floating
around. But it is nothing of the sort. It is actually ridiculously classy and looks like he spent millions
to get it this fancy schmancy. There is a dance floor in the middle of the room with a small stage for
the live band to play. Well, not really a live band so much as a three-piece string orchestra, with a
harpist, violinist, and cellist – very classy. There are small tables surrounding the dance floor, and
the perimeter of the room is lined with plush eggplant colored booths. They are set in low lighting for
a more private atmosphere.

Directly across from the double doors I entered through is a bar. It spans the entire length of that

wall, and for lack of a better word, it is beautiful. Can you use that word to describe a bar? Guess so,
because I just did. It is made from a solid piece of a high-end Burmese Teak wood, like they use on
million dollar yachts, as it is naturally water resistant. It is so big, Calvin actually had to have it
imported from Malaysia, or India, or Indonesia… oh, who the fuck cares, really? Then he had a
specialist come in to lacquer it to death. Fifteen coats later, it looks as though it is topped with glass.
Like I said, beautiful.

In the corner is an unassuming staircase that leads to the fourth floor, where all of the regular

rooms are. One more flight up, you are in the VIP wing. There are only four VIP rooms, and Calvin is
very particular with who gets them each night. The rooms need to be reserved at the same time as
registration, and Calvin charges a nominal fee. Okay, maybe not nominal. Let’s just say it’s enough
that those rooms are rarely full. I’ve tried numerous times to pay my way, but Calvin will have
nothing of it. I told him I owe him one, and I am sure he will collect one day.

I decide to do a once around to check out the women who are hanging about. Most of them are

congregated around the dance floor mingling with each other. I don’t mind approaching a chick if she
is with one of her friends, but when they are in groups I am turned off. It’s almost like they are just
here to party, or be able to go home and talk around the water coolers at work on Monday, not here
for bumpin’ uglies.

I pull up a barstool, feeling completely downtrodden. I order my go-to drink at this place – a

Bombay Sapphire and tonic on the rocks – and try not to be disappointed as shit. I sit at the bar for
close to an hour trying to pick out a woman to take up to my VIP room, but I can’t. There is not one
goddamned woman in here piquing my interest, or my cock’s for that matter. Oh, don’t get me wrong,
no less than five broads have messaged me, but there is absolutely nothing stirring in my pants. This is
not good! I finish my third gin and tonic, resigned that it is just not going to happen tonight, when I
feel a warm body sidle up against me. Just as I am about to tell her something, I look up and it is
Calvin. Of course, it is.

C-dog #413: Hey, Nico, my man.

Nico #812: Hey, C-dog. How’s it hangin’?

C-dog #413: A little to the left!

Nico #812: Very mature, dude! I was just about to take off.

C-dog #413: No hunnies striking your fancy?

Nico #812: Nah, man. I gotta get this shit in my head straightened out. It’s affecting my batting

average.

C-dog #413: I hear ya, brah! Save a room for u tomorrow?

Nico #812: I don’t know, man. I am pretty fucked up.

C-dog #413: Give tomorrow a shot. Monica said a few new foxes registered.

Nico #812: Alright. I’ll give it a shot, but if I don’t get some, my dick may fall off!

C-dog #413: Trust me, man. I got you.

I hop off the barstool, bump fists with Calvin, and head for the door. Another night in pure agony.

My balls ache like a motherfucker, and I just don’t think rosy palm and her five sisters are going to do
the trick any longer. I’ll give tomorrow one more shot. I hope that Monica was right, and my dick can
pick out some fresh pussy he’d like to party with.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

What the hell is his problem? He has done nothing but bitch and moan at me all day - he doesn’t

like the way I answer the intercom when he buzzes me, my handwriting is too “girly,” and apparently
I just can’t do anything right today. If I wasn’t the consummate professional, I would walk out on his
ass right now. But alas, I am, and so I will stay here and suck it up. Thank God, it’s Friday.

I make it to lunch without throwing my stapler at his head, and decide to text Charlie. She always

knows how to make me laugh.

Delilah: Hey, Charlie! U around?

Charlie: Hey, LaLa! Yep, just out to lunch with my boss. Wanna join us?

Delilah: Thanks, but u know I don’t leave my office for lunch anymore. Remember what

happened last time I met you?

Charlie: Yeah, sorry. Just figure u have nothing to lose anymore

Delilah: True & he is being such a dick today. Maybe next time, ok?

Charlie: Of course! You are welcome anytime. Hey… u ready to hit a club tonight? Sounds like

u need to let off some steam

Delilah: Not tonight. I am exhausted from holding in my tongue all morning & I still have

another 5 hrs to go!

Charlie: No problem, I get it. u r not ready

Delilah: I think I am! How about tomorrow?

Charlie: Seriously? Hell yeah!

Delilah : Ok! One of Nick’s friends owns a club downtown & gave me a pass to get in & told

me to bring a friend. He just said I have to call in advance cause apparently it is exclusive & they
limit the # of people

Charlie: Sounds awesome. Sign us up! Btw, what’s the name of the club?

Delilah: Hang on let me look at the card…Club Masquerade

Charlie: As in Club M?

Delilah: I guess? Have you heard of it?

Charlie: Oooooooh yeah!

Chapter Six

Delilah

Charlie is coming over two hours earlier than we originally planned. Apparently, I need a total

make over. After the debacle of picking out my clothes for the interview, Charlie is convinced
nothing in my closet is Club M worthy. Every time she says the club’s name, she giggles. I keep
asking her what she is not telling me, but she just responds that she will tell me on the way to the club.
I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not going to like what she has to tell me.

I decide to take a long soak in my tub to try to relax. Nick was such a jerk to me yesterday and it

is still bothering me. Between our pizza dinner and his birthday surprises, I thought we got past all of
the BS. I guess not. He still sees me simply as his secretary, and nothing more. My mind wanders to
the last time I was soaking in this tub, and once again, I have to remind myself that there will never be
anything personal between us.

I really have no interest in going to the club with Charlie tonight, but now, more than ever, I need

a distraction - a hot, sweaty, Italian, piece of man meat. No, not Italian, definitely not Italian - but
absolutely hot, ready, and willing to please me. At least just for tonight.

I get out of the tub and dry off. I take a few minutes to pop in my contacts. I haven’t worn them in

a few weeks, and I want to give my eyes time to adjust to them. Next, I moisturize with lotion from
head to toe, Japanese Cherry Blossoms, of course – Nick’s favorite. I like to put my lotion on right as
I get out of the bath or shower because my skin is still warm and my pores are open. I think it helps
retain the scent longer. Who knows? I slip into a pair of white cotton granny panties and a full cup
white cotton bra. Not the sexiest of lingerie, but they are practical, comfortable, and actually hold up
my huge bazungas. Then I put on my robe. There is no point in getting dressed since Charlie should be
here shortly, and I’m sure that she is going to make me try on everything in my closet again. Lord, give
me strength! I throw my hair up into a loose bun and wait impatiently for her to come over. I distract
myself by straightening up my bedroom, cleaning the kitchen, and watching a few of my guilty
pleasure reality shows on the television.

I love my apartment. What do I love most about it? That it’s all mine! I went from living with my

parents, to the college dorms, to living off campus with Charlie, to moving in with Ryan. I didn’t
initially like this apartment; Ryan actually chose it because it was close to his work. I had to take the
subway forty-five minutes each way, but I sucked it up because I loved him and that’s what you do in
a relationship. Well, at least, that’s what most people do. Ryan didn’t get that memo. I can’t believe I
didn’t see what an ass he was sooner. Funny thing is, now my apartment is a hop, skip, and a jump
away from my job with Nick. On a nice day, I can even walk there.

Anyway, the apartment itself is nothing to write home about. It is a one bedroom, five hundred

square foot box, with a full kitchen, bathroom, and cute little living room. It doesn’t sound like much,
but by Manhattan standards, it is a palace. And it is all mine - decorated how I want, I can leave my
clothes on the floor, and dishes in the sink – and there is nobody here to bitch and moan about it! I
don’t have much outdoor space, but that doesn’t bother me much. I am not really an outdoorsy kind of
gal.

I am not sure how Ryan negotiated such a fair price, but for that, I am grateful. I saved a lot of

money when I was working in the corporate world, but so far, my salary from Nick has paid the bills
and kept me afloat.

Finally, at 7:00 pm, I hear Charlie’s distinct knock at my front door. It is the same knock she

used to use in high school on my bedroom door so I always knew it was her. She comes barreling
past me, arms full of shopping bags, and an overnight bag.

“What did you do, rob Macy’s? I ask sarcastically, pointing at all of the crap she is lugging.

“Ha ha, very funny! A little help here,” she responds dryly, holding up her aching arms.

“What is all of this?” I ask as I grab some bags and set them on the living room floor.

“In the overnight I have my clothes for tonight. You didn’t think I would wear it over here and

risk getting all gross and sweaty?”

“Okay, gotcha. But what is all this? You don’t need three shopping bags and this box. What the

heck is this box?”

“Um…well… I may have stopped at Macy’s on my way over here. There is no way in hell I am

going to let you wear any of those crap clothes in your closet. Don’t think I forgot for one minute what
we went through to get you dressed for your interview,” she looks at me pointedly, raising her
eyebrow.

“Point taken. But three bags full?”

“Clothes, shoes, lingerie, make-up. All of the essentials that you are lacking. We are going to

glam you up and get you laid tonight!

“Charlie!” is all I can say. She is right, and I know it. I really have let myself go as far as a

beauty regiment goes.

“LaLa! What? Come on, I am just looking out for my girl. Tell me, did you do your homework

assignment?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

I let out a loud sigh, making sure she knows I am becoming exasperated with her. “Yes, mom. I

went this afternoon. I am waxed, plucked, scrubbed, buffed, highlighted, mani’ed, and pedi’ed. Did I
miss anything because I am pretty sure every inch of my body has been abused?”

“Sounds like you did a good job. Did you go for the Brazilian?” she asks, clearly amused at my

discomfort.

I send Charlie a death glare and she starts laughing hysterically. I, however, am not smiling.

“Not intentionally,” I answer, getting really annoyed at her flippancy toward my discomfort.

She stops laughing and looks at me, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean, ‘not

intentionally’? How do you unintentionally get a Brazilian?”

I take a deep breath, embarrassed by what happened. I blow out and say it as succinctly as

possible, knowing she is going to roll over in hysterics. “The esthetician asked me what I was there
for and I clearly said, ‘a bikini wax.’ There is no need for anything else because even though I don’t
do my hair or make-up daily, I properly groom the rest of myself…down there. I lay on the table and
she told me to remove my underwear. I thought that was a little strange, but I figured that’s just how
they did it at that spa, so I didn’t question her. She asked me a question, but I really didn’t understand

her through her thick accent. I was so embarrassed with my coochie all hangin’ out, I didn’t want to
ask her what she said, so I just smiled and nodded. How the hell was I supposed to know she was
asking me if I wanted her to rip all of the hair out of my vagina? Oh, but it didn’t stop there…I then
spent the next twenty minutes on all fours!” The Brazilian had to be invented by a man because there
is no way a woman would come up with the most barbaric form of torture to inflict on another
woman. Maybe on a man, but definitely not on one of her own!

Charlie spends the next ten minutes rolling on the floor, arms wrapped around her stomach, tears

running from her eyes, laughing like a freaking hyena. Although slightly humiliated from the events I
just poured out to her, hoping for some empathy, I couldn’t help but find the hilarity of what happened
to me - only me!

Once she gathers herself from the floor, still hiccupping from gasping for air while laughing, we

head to my bathroom. Time for hair and make-up. I guess I should be thankful that conversation was
over.

“Hmm, Charlie? You never did tell me… what’s in the box?”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

This weekend feels like it will never end. I decide to go into work for a few hours this morning

to try to distract myself from my unsuccessful evening last night. I won’t call Delilah in for help
because she is precisely the reason I need the distraction. It doesn’t seem to work, though. Every time
I look out my glass wall toward Delilah’s desk, I imagine her luscious lips wrapping around my cock,
her big hazel eyes looking up at me, filled with lust. After a few hours of getting absolutely nothing
accomplished, I change strategies and head to the gym. A few rounds with a punching bag should
relieve some of this pent up frustration.

I don’t go to my usual gym today. Generally, I like the one close to my home because that one is

geared toward men and serious lifters; but today, I go to the one close to my office, knowing that is
where women go to socialize – a total meat market. I mean come on, who goes to work out with a
face full of make-up and barely any clothes? If I can pick up some tail here, I won’t have to go to
Club M tonight. After last night, I’m not hopeful that I will find anyone, and I’m seriously tired of
greasing my own pole. Then again, Calvin did say there would be some fresh meat there tonight, and
he seemed pretty confident my dick will wake the fuck up and tap one.

I can’t believe two hours at the gym and not only am I more sexually frustrated than before I went

there, but I could not pick out one chick. Several approached me, but no go. I don’t know what’s
wrong with me. In the past, I could do anything with a pulse. All she had to do was look at me and I
would take her in the closest room – bathroom, closet, office. I didn’t give a fuck. Now, since
blowing off Julianna, who didn’t take it too well I might add, and since that crazy fantasy of Delilah
in my office, my dick doesn’t really even stir much. Well it does, in fact, I get hard instantly, when I
see or even think about her. But there is no way in hell I am going there. She is my employee - off
limits, a definite no no, inaccessible, unavailable, and out of bounds – and she most certainly is not
my type, which is precisely why I hired her in the first place. Keep telling yourself that.

I am giving the club one more chance tonight. If my dick can’t pick out a pussy to party with, I

just don’t know what I am going to do. After my shower, I slip on my tight, black Calvin Klein boxer
briefs, but stay in my bathroom to brush my hair and teeth. I decide not to shave, the ladies seem to
like the five o’clock shadow; I’m sure they like how it feels rubbing up against their thighs. I head to
my closet to get dressed. I went with all black last night and it was a bust, so I change it up – my
worn Dolce & Gabbana jeans, a black Salvatore Ferragamo cotton zip polo, and on my feet, my
Prada drivers. I skip the Rolex, and opt for a more casual look, my Ulysse Nardin Freak – how
apropos. To the average eye, it looks like an ordinary timepiece, but a watch aficionado would know
right away that it cost me over a hundred grand. I opt for a different mask tonight, also black, but
covering three-quarters of my face, only exposing my lips and chin. I slide it into place and head to
Club Masquerade. Wish me luck.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Charlotte Fisher is an evil, evil woman! Remind me to never, ever let her near my hair or face

again. Pure torture, I tell you. If I ever hear someone say, “It takes pain to be beautiful,” one more
time, I will whack them upside the head.

We start with my make-up first. She pulls a plastic bag out of one of the shopping bags and it

was full of all different kinds of cosmetics – foundation, powder, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, lip
liner, lipstick, gloss, bronzer, blush, and perfume. And lions, and tigers, and bears – oh my! No
seriously, I think that was all, but who knows; I have no idea what half the stuff is for anyway. I let
her have her way with my face, but I put my foot down at the bronzer. Why, you ask? Simply put, I
don’t want anyone mistaking me for Snookie from The Jersey Shore. I mean, come on, we are both
petite, with a little extra junk in the trunk, and have the same long brown hair, but we look nothing
alike. The last thing I need is to fake bake or add too much bronzer, and some jerk to mistake me for
her. No, thank you! Oh, and speaking of Italians… I eighty-sixed the perfume, too. My lotion is all I
have ever worn, and I love the way it smells. And so does Nick. Not that I am going to see him
tonight, but if he likes it, then hopefully it will attract another stud for the taking.

Long story short, she did an amazing job! I didn’t even recognize myself when she was done.

She lined my eyes in green. With hazel eyes, that is the best way to bring out the color. Then she
smoked them out. But instead of using a black kohl, she smoked them with the purple shadow. She
used mascara that must have been heaven sent, because it opened my eyes up tenfold. You could only
get these kinds of results with fake lashes. “It’s all about the eyes. You should always wear your
contacts,” Charlie said.

Now she is lining my lips in a light red. I am wary because my mom always told me that only

hookers wear red lipstick, but when she fills in my lips, holy shit! I would kiss myself if it were
possible. The lipstick itself is a matte red, but then she slicks on a gloss that sparkles. My already
juicy lips transform into Angelina Jolie’s million dollar pout. “I take it back,” she says, “usually, it’s
all about the eyes, but with you, it’s all about the lips. Every man in the room is going to want to kiss
these luscious puppies.”

We take a break before starting on my hair. I go to the kitchen to grab us a couple of bottles of

water, and out of the corner of my eye, I see that weird box again. “Are you ever going to tell me
what’s in the box?” I ask again, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“I think it is best to wait for the cab ride to explain what’s inside. It has something to do with

Club M,” she replies evasively. Now I know I am not going to like what she has to tell me. The fact
that she is going out of her way for me not to know what is in store for me tonight is grating on my
nerves.

“I think it’s time for you to spill,” I state firmly. I don’t want to sound bitchy, but I don’t like

feeling lied to or betrayed, and she knows why.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop. It’s not that bad. It’s just that Club M has some very, er, strict

rules. But I think we should finish your hair, get you dressed, and then I will tell you everything once
we are in the cab. I promise,” she says calmly, clearly catching on to my mood change.

She obviously senses my concerns, and I know she is just placating me. But at the same time, I

know Charlie would never do anything or take me anywhere she knows would make me
uncomfortable. We head back to the bathroom and she gets started on my hair.

Since she did such a kick ass job on my make-up, I don’t even question her when I see her

heating up the flat iron. She pulls my hair out of the messy bun on top of my head and starts to comb it
out. I always wear my hair up or pulled back somehow because it is very thick, naturally wavy, and
quite often, very unruly. But during my hell day at the spa, I had some caramel highlights put in to
“soften it around my face,” according the hairdresser. So, hopefully, however she styles it, I will
have the desired effect.

A few minutes later, she has my hair separated into little sections and clipped up in every

direction. I hope she has a plan, and knows what she is doing. Little by little, she takes down each
section, and flat irons it. I flinch a few times when she gets close to my ear, but she never burns me.
That sucker is hot, though! Over an hour and a half later, she is done. My hair is straight as an arrow,
shiny as all get out, silky smooth, and the highlights are exquisite. I need to remember to give the
hairdresser a bigger tip next time I am there.

Next is the big dress reveal, and I am most nervous about this, and we all know why; I haven’t

worn anything sexy, revealing, or even fitted, since I was a teen. And if I know Charlie, she is not
going to let me go anywhere near this club wearing anything less than sexy and fabulous.

“Why don’t we start with the lingerie,” Charlie suggests, sensing my anxiousness over the dress

situation.

“Lingerie? What’s wrong with the underwear I have on?” I ask argumentatively, knowing full

well that I am not going to win.

“Because it is just that – underwear. That’s the stuff you wear on a first date to guarantee yourself

that you won’t sleep with the man. We are trying to get you laid, not remind the guy of his eighty year
old grandmother.”

Charlie grabs a small pink and white striped bag and I roll my eyes, knowing fair and well what

store she shopped at. “Girl, you know that there is no way in God’s green earth that these knockers
are going to fit into anything you have hiding in that little bag,” I say, grabbing my boobs with both
hands, shaking them at her.

She lets out a chuckle. “Oh, ye of little faith. Just trust your bestie, okay?”

I let out a loud sigh and nod my head, pretending to be exasperated. I thrust out my right hand to

receive the lacy goodies and send Charlie a half smile. “Fine, gimme them. I will go put them on in
the bathroom. But if I look like a cow with her udders hanging all loosey goosey, my cotton delights
are coming right back on.”

“Deal, Elsie.” Charlie shakes her head at me and continues to laugh. She hands me the most

gorgeous red and black lace panty and bra set, and I bite my tongue as I head to my bathroom to
change, praying that they fit.

I walk out of the bathroom twirling around like a toddler trying on her first tutu. Not only does it

all fit perfectly, but it really is absolutely stunning. “I have to hand it to you, Charlie. You nailed it!
My girls are snug as a bug and you managed to make my shrimpy legs look so long and lean. Kudos,
my friend,” I say, giving Charlie all the credit she deserves. “Maybe you missed your calling as a

personal shopper,” I throw out with a wink.

“Thank you, but don’t thank me completely, yet. There is still this little teensy matter of the

dress,” she announces cautiously. She scrunches her face, squeezes her eyes tight, and then peeks at
me through one open eye. I can’t help but laugh at her.

“I’m that much of a hard sell, huh?”

“Um, yeah! You do remember what’s in that closet of yours, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cause you won’t let me forget. Bring it on, sister!” I am eager to see what she

picked out for the main course. I think I am ready, but nothing could have prepared me for what she
unzipped from the wardrobe bag. I had to steady myself before I was able to step toward it.

Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction when Samuel L. Jackson opens the briefcase in the

restaurant and all we see are bright lights shining out? Of course, we all just assumed it was filled
with bars of gold. Anyway, that’s exactly how I feel staring at the dress. Like the clouds parted, and
the sun is shining through for the first time in years. And the gospel choir in the background is
rejoicing.

It is the most spectacular, sexy, provocative, yet timeless, red lace dress I have ever seen! It has

a tan silk slip underneath to blend in with my skin. Then the bodice is a red lace overlay, which by
mere definition is sexy, but it is not hooker-ish in the least. It has a plunging neckline, but with my
chest, it is going to be perfect, and looks as though it will hit just above my knee. I can’t wait to put it
on.

As I am already standing here in my underwear, I don’t bother going to the bathroom again. In

silence, I just slip it on in front of Charlie, and it fits as if it was tailor made for me. I look up at
Charlie, both of us with tears in our eyes.

“Stop crying or you are going to ruin your make-up,” she yells at me, trying to lighten the mood in

the room.

“I just…it’s just…the dress is so beautiful, Charlie. I can’t believe you picked this out for me.

Do you really think I can pull it off?” I ask, feeling sexy and self conscious at the same time.”

“Shut up,” is all she says. Because, really, what more is there to say? The proud mama-hen

expression on her face says it all.

I slide into a pair of four-inch tan heals. The pointed toe is squishing my big toe, but I suck it up

in the name of fashion, remembering, “It takes pain to be beautiful,” and all that other bullshit society
feeds us. Three long, grueling hours later, we are finally in a cab, heading to Club Masquerade.

“Are you ever going to tell me what is in that weird box you have been hiding from me? And why

is it going with us to the club?” I ask, shrugging like the anticipation is not killing me.

“Okay, okay. I guess I can’t put this off any longer. But promise me that you will keep an open

mind and not freak out.” She groans.

I shake my head and take a deep breath. I know she is up to something that I am not going to like,

but I am already here, dressed and made up like her own personal Barbie. What more can there be?
“Fine. Just get on with it already,” I mutter, exasperated by her added drama.

Charlie opens the box, which is shaped like a hatbox, and for the second time today, I am

speechless. I am not exactly sure what I’m looking at, but it looks like the most exquisite, intricately
detailed, beaded masquerade mask. And there are two of them. I tentatively move my right hand
forward to touch one, and Charlie snaps the box closed, like what Richard Gere did to Julia Roberts
in Pretty Woman, when she tried to touch the ruby necklace. I start to laugh the same way, too. Then
she reopens the box so I can get a second look, and this time I pull one out of the box. Just like my
dress, lips, nails, and toes, it is a beautiful harlot red. Okay, maybe not harlot…candy apple… yeah,
that is a better description. It is candy apple red, adorned with gold and red beads, sequins, and
stones. It looks as though it will cover my eyes and nose, and ties in the back with a red silk ribbon.

“This is gorgeous, Charlie, but I don’t understand. What do we need masks for?”

She took a deep breath and started to explain everything – the masks, the no talking, the

messaging system, the sex - all of the rules at Club M. And I sit in stunned silence for the rest of the
cab ride there.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah once more…

After checking in with Monica, I head over to the bar while Charlie gets a table for us. As I

near the bar, I notice a guy in tight faded jeans, his back to me. Shit, that is a mighty fine ass; it may
even rival Nick’s, and I have spent plenty of time ogling his to know. I signal to the bartender that
I’m ready to order. Since I am not permitted to speak, I point to the menu which drinks we want - an
Appletini for Charlie and a house red for me. I usually don’t drink, just maybe a cold beer with pizza
or the occasional breakfast mimosa, and I am a little anxious to begin with, so I don’t want to set
myself up for any disasters. As I stand there waiting for our drinks, I can’t seem to tear my eyes off
this guy’s ass. What has gotten into me?

The bartender seems to be the only person permitted to speak, probably because he is not

concerned with anonymity, and he tells me my total. The two drinks come to fourteen dollars, so I
slide a twenty across the bar to him and wink with a smile, as if telling him “thank you” and “keep the
change.” There are a few people in life you just don’t want to piss off, and a bartender is one of
them. Who are the others? Well, let’s see… just off the top of my head…your server. Never piss off
someone who has access to your food, if you know what I mean. Your hairdresser. Not only can you
walk out looking like Edward Scissorhands got a hold of you, but you don’t want to screw with
someone that has a sharp object that close to your head, neck, and throat. And a more recent
revelation, don’t ever, under any circumstance, piss off the woman just about to rip all the hair out of
your vajayjay. Dripping hot wax – enough said!

I head back to Charlie disappointed I never got a really good look at Mr. Fine Ass. I can feel his

eyes on me as I am walking away, but once again, I am too chicken shit to turn around. As I approach
Charlie, I see that she is checking out some dude by the staircase. I sit down next to her, hand her the
Appletini, and send a text.

LaLa #128: OMG! Did u see that guy’s ass?

Charlie #228: Who? Where?

LaLa #128: Over there. By the bar. Mr. Fine Ass!

Charlie #228: Oh, Yeah. That is a scrumptious looking ass. Did you get his #?

LaLa #128: Nah, I chickened out, as usual. Who were u looking at?

Charlie #228: When? Who?

LaLa #128: When I walked back here. U were clearly checking out that sexy black guy by the

stairs

Charlie #228: Oh, yeah, him. Just window shopping

LaLa #128: That is a hot piece. Go walk by like u are looking around & get his #

Charlie #228: U know I can’t do that

LaLa #128: Come on. U ask random guys out all the time

Charlie #228: That’s different, and u know why

LaLa #128: Charlie, it has been almost 15 yrs. Time to heal & move past it

Charlie #228: I’m trying, LaLa, I’m trying

I let Charlie off the hook because I know her secret and I know it is not something she has been

able to get past. I take a sip of my red wine and try to relax. This really isn’t my scene. I have never
been one to approach a man, and just sitting here, I feel like a kid on the playground waiting to be
picked for a team – vulnerable, self-conscious, and pretty pathetic.

Charlie #228: What’s the matter? U have a look on your face like you just smelled a pile of shit

LaLa #128: Just uncomfortable. I feel like a loser sitting here. No man is going to text me

Charlie #228: What are you talking about? U look gorg in that dress & your hair is perfection. U

are going to have them fighting over u

LaLa #128: U are an idiot, but ily

Charlie #228: ily2. Now stop fidgeting & when u do get a text, I want to see flirty LaLa. Play the

role. Remember, nobody here knows who u are, so u can be anybody u want

LaLa #128: U are right. Time for my inner vixen to come out to play

Charlie #228: That’s my girl!

Charlie has just given me the confidence that I needed. I straighten my back, sticking out my chest

that I have spent the last ten years hiding, lift my chin, and take another sip of wine. I am beautiful,
confident, and sexy, I keep repeating in my head. As I finally start to believe myself, a text comes in
just in time.

Nico #812: Red lace?

LaLa #128: Hello? I don’t think u have the right #

Nico #812: Are u not, in fact, wearing a red lace dress?

LaLa #128: Yes, in fact, I am. And u are?

Nico #812: Intrigued

LaLa #128: I enjoy a man of many words

Nico #812: Sexy & sassy. A deadly combination

LaLa #128: U still have not introduced yourself. Not much for pleasantries?

Nico #812: Pleasant is not the word to describe the things I want to do to u

I look around, trying to figure out who this mysterious man is that keeps messaging me. Every

man I see either is engaged in conversation on his device, or is already coupled up. So no help there.
Charlie looks at me funny and my device vibrates.

Charlie #228: Who are u talking to?

LaLa #128: I have no idea. Some guy is texting me but hasn’t said who he is

Charlie #228: Did u ask?

LaLa #128: Uh, duh! Of, course I did. He is being evasive & a little crude

Charlie #228: Ooooh. I like crude. What did he say?

LaLa #128: That he wants to do unpleasant things to me?

Charlie #228: Yowza! Say yes! Say yes!

LaLa #128: What? I have no idea who this guy is!

Charlie #228: Live a little! U deserve it after what Dickerson did to u. Go for 1 night of hot,

sweaty sex with a stranger! At least u know it’s safe here.

I take a deep breath, knowing that Charlie is right. I do deserve it, and I definitely need it! These

past few weeks working so closely to Nick has me wound tight. It would be nice to let my freak flag
fly for one night. And it is a total stranger that I will never have to see again. Hmm…

Nico #812: Have I offended u?

LaLa #128: No, why do u ask?

Nico #812: Because u disappeared on me

LaLa #128: Nope, still here & still don’t know who u are

Nico #812: And I am still here, still turned on by that sexy red lace dress. Any more red lace I

can’t see?

LaLa #128: What’s with this obsession with red lace?

Nico #812: Why did u wear it?

I start to catch on to this game he is playing. He is not going to tell me who he is until he sees

that I am interested, and I am, interested. I am enjoying the flirtation that we have going on, so I
decide to kick it up a notch.

LaLa #128: Why did I wear what?

Nico #812: Don’t play coy. The red lace.

LaLa #128: Oh, this old thing. I wore it because I knew u would like it

Nico #812: And how did u know I would be here?

LaLa #128: Because I knew u would be waiting for me

Nico #812: That smart mouth is going to get u into a world of trouble

LaLa #128: Then maybe u have something to keep my big mouth quiet?

Nico #812: And what would it take to achieve that feat?

LaLa #128: At least 8 in

Nico #812: Woman, u r killing me & I haven’t even touched u yet

LaLa #128: What r u waiting for?

Nico #812: Dance with me?

LaLa #128: I still don’t even know who u are

Nico #812: Turn around & look toward the bar

I close my eyes for a brief second and turn toward the bar, scared of what I will find. I am

attracted to his witty texts, and find myself drawn to him, even though I haven’t even seen him yet.
Afraid to be disappointed, I open my eyes slowly and scan the bar. The only man not coupled up is
Mr. Fine Ass. I take a double take, look around again, as if I am being punked, and laugh to myself.

LaLa #128: Mr. Fine Ass?

Nico #812: Excuse me?

LaLa #128: I mean, get your fine ass over here

Nico #812: How about u meet me on the dance floor instead?

LaLa #128: Hmmm, ok

I stand slowly to head toward the dance floor. I pull at and straighten my dress since it rose a

little while sitting. Charlie gives me a dirty smirk, I shoot her a look, and she nods and smiles
knowingly. I guess when you’ve known someone as long as we have known each other, words really
aren’t necessary. Before we got here, we discussed what would happen if one of us hooked up. It was
decided that the other won’t wait around if they don’t find someone, and will take a cab home. I hope
that she finds herself a hot male specimen so she doesn’t have to go home alone, and we can compare
stories in the morning. She was really digging that hot guy at the bottom of the staircase.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I walk into Club M and check in with Monica before entering the club. I casually glance around

as I move toward my favorite spot at the end of the bar. I don’t see anything worth my while as I make
my way through the crowd, which really puts me in a shit mood. Once at the bar, I get the bartender’s
attention, he gives me a nod and pours me a gin and tonic, already knowing what I want. That’s a perk
of being a VIP, baby. I’m standing there drinking my gin and tonic when someone claps me on the
shoulder. I look up to see Calvin - or C-dog, as he’s known in the club - standing next to me with a
midnight blue mask on his face. He smiles at me and sends me a message.

C-dog #413: What up, Nico?

Nico #812: Nothin, just got here. Any fresh meat?

C-dog #413: I just talked to Monica. She said some newbies are checking in right now

Nico #812: Nice, I hope they are fine

C-dog #413: We’ll see, I gotta go

Nico #812: Later

Calvin pats my shoulder before walking off. I glance toward the entrance of the club just in time

to see the two new ladies walk in. They look around for a moment before one taps the other and
points to a table, the other nods and points to the bar. My eyes are drawn to the brunette that is
heading toward the bar. She is wearing a low cut red lace dress that is putting her very ample
cleavage, to put it nicely, on display. She is a tiny little thing with huge tits. The combination of red
lace and huge boobs is an overload on my senses. I need to have this woman and my cock definitely
agrees. Finally!

I send Calvin a message asking him to find out who the chick with the red lace is - her name and

number. I never get close enough to a woman I’m thinking about doing to get her number off of her tag.
I like to watch her from afar, get a feel for her, and see her reaction to my texts. That’s why I love this
place so much; I love the anonymity of it all. My messenger vibrates. I look down to see a text from
Calvin. LaLa #128. Nice.

After going back and forth with LaLa for a couple of minutes, I finally get her to meet me on the

dance floor. She is seriously sexy and playing it coy, and I cannot remember the last time I had that
much fun texting a woman. I had a hard time keeping a straight face and even almost laughed out loud
a couple of times. Oh man, I cannot wait to get her up to my VIP room.

I beat LaLa to the dance floor and watch as she approaches. She looks like a goddess in all of

that red lace and long brown pin straight hair. I can’t wait to peel it off of her and wrap those locks
around my wrist while I take her from behind. I wish I could see her without that damn mask. The
three-piece string orchestra is playing The Blue Danube Waltz by Johann Strauss II, and I can’t wait
another minute to get my hands on her.

Before she can change her mind, my right hand grabs around her waist and pulls her body close

to mine. Damn, she has a tight little body! And she is tiny – at least a foot shorter than me. Kind of
like Delilah. Shit! I shake my head to try to rid myself of any thoughts of her. I thread my left hand

through her right, raising them just above her right shoulder, positioning her to Waltz. Just as with
everything I do, I take the lead. My left foot steps forward, her right foot follows, stepping
backward. Our bodies move in perfect synchronicity, and I don’t know if I am more turned on at the
proximity of our bodies, or the fact that she just follows my lead, no questions asked. I just have a
feeling she is going to be a hellcat in the sack. Shit, I need to stop it or she is going to get a preview of
what I have waiting for her in my pants.

We make our way around the dance floor like professional ballroom dancers, her following my

lead as if we have been doing this together for years. My body is begging to be closer to her and my
dick starts to harden. Hallelujah! I was actually starting to worry myself.

I don’t want to ruin the mood by pulling out my texting device, so even though I know it’s against

the rules, and Calvin will have my balls if he sees, I lean down close to her ear to whisper. But
instead of speaking, my body subconsciously inhales – cherries and vanilla. Fuck, crap, shit! Well,
that was a big fucking mistake! She smells exactly like Delilah! Cocksucker! I miss a step, but
recover quickly; however, apparently LaLa noticed because she is looking at me, head cocked to the
side. By the way she was sassing me earlier, I know if she were permitted to speak, I’d have to do
some quick tap dancing. Fortunately, she can’t, so I shrug my shoulders, smile, and keep on dancing.
Get your shit together, Santino!

The song ends and everyone on the dance floor applauds. I was so caught up in LaLa land that I

didn’t see all of these people join us. I hear the orchestra gear up to start a Bolero, and I love to
Tango. It is so sexy and provocative, but only works with the right partner. Let’s see if I found her.
You can tell a lot about a woman by the way she Tangos.

Before I get the chance to ask if she would like to dance again, her hands are in mine, body

pressed closely, and she is looking at me, eyes full of heat and lust. Not used to allowing a woman
take any sort of lead, I permit it this time, because I want her in my arms just as urgently. I take a
deep breath, getting my fill of her scent – which I have come to terms with the fact that it turns me on
greatly – and try to tame my dick. I give her a lascivious smile and nod my head. As the music
begins, an angelic voice fills the room, the words of Bésame Mucho filtering through the air. You
wouldn’t think by looking at our height difference that this would be feasible, but we move together
effortlessly, as we Tango our way toward paradise.

As the song comes to an end, we loosen our embrace and peel our bodies apart. We just stare at

each other for a few seconds, both of us in a hunger-filled daze. I don’t tear my eyes away from her,
even as I reach to send her a text. It’s like she has me – and my cock - in a hypnotic trance.

Nico #812: How do u feel?

LaLa #128: Hot & wet

Nico #812: That’s what I’m talkin about!

LaLa #128: lol. Let me rephrase. Warm & sweaty

Nico #812: Come upstairs to my VIP room with me. I must have u

She smiles a shy smile, looks away, and shakes her head.

LaLa #128: No, sorry.

Nico #812: No?

LaLa #128: I can’t

Nico #812: Can’t or won’t

LaLa #128: Does it matter?

Nico #812: No, I guess not. Anything I can do to change your mind?

I have never chased a woman, and I am not going to start now. Nor have I ever begged, for

anything. Not going to happen.

LaLa #128: I’ll make a deal with u

Nico #812: U have my attention

LaLa #128: Next Saturday. Same time, same place

Nico #812: Go on

LaLa #128: I’ve never had a 1 night stand before, so I’m very nervous about this. If u can give me

a wk to get to know u a little bit, I promise to wear red lace for u next Saturday

I narrow my eyes at her. I don’t know if I should take the deal. I can get another chick in a

heartbeat, but then again, my dick is kind of set on this woman. And she’s promising me red lace…

Nico #812: Will I get to take the red lace off u?

I can see the blush creep up her neck, and it’s really quite enticing. Everything about her is

tempting and damn her for making me bargain. I never bargain! What the fuck is wrong with me?
There is just something about her, though. I must have her, and I’m finding that I will do just about
anything to get a taste. I bring my hand up to rub my jaw, a little habit of mine that I do sometimes.
LaLa cocks her head as she looks at me for a moment, almost distractedly, before shaking her head
slightly and answering my question.

LaLa #128: Yes

I nod slowly. Okay, she’s promised that I can take the red lace off of her. Just the thought has the

front of my pants tenting again. I guess I can text her a bit during the week to make her feel more
comfortable with the inevitable one night stand. It can’t hurt.

Nico #812: Ok, deal

We exchange phone numbers and set the rule of ‘text messages only,’ since we will be meeting

back up at Club M next Saturday where anonymity is mandatory.

Nico #812: Can I at least kiss u?

LaLa smiles shyly and nods. Hell yes! I need a little taste of her; it will help me fortify my

decision to wait a week for her. I cup her face in my hands and lean down, brushing my lips over
hers. Just the simplest connection and I have to stifle a moan. My heart starts pounding madly in my
chest. Jesus Christ, I’m barely touching her! She gasps softly and that’s the end of it - I lose control. I

thrust my tongue into her mouth and kiss her like I’ve never kissed a woman before. The passion and
pure need are feelings that I’ve never encountered before. Her hands ball up in my shirt and she
kisses me back just as fervently. Oh God, I’m so hard it is bordering on painful.

I’m just about to pull back because I swear I’m going to cum in my pants when she starts to suck

on my tongue. I’ve never had a woman do this to me before, but she’s got my tongue and she’s
swirling her tongue around mine, just like she would probably do to my dick if it was in her mouth.
Fuck! I’ve got to get out of here! She is driving me insane, and if she wants to make it out of here
without me fucking her brains out on the dance floor, then I need to go! As soon as she lets my tongue
go, I pull back. We are both panting like crazy, as we stare at each other for a moment.

Nico #812: Next Saturday, 9pm, don’t be late

LaLa #128: Wouldn’t dream of it

LaLa starts to walk away first, but my feet are frozen in place, and I can’t tear my eyes away

from her. Once again, she has my captive attention. She has just enough swing in her hips to show any
man watching how sensual her body is. I bet she doesn’t even realize how incredibly sexy she is –
soft in all the right places, just how I love my women. And that ass! The things I will do to her next
week. My dick’s disappointed as hell that it’s not getting off tonight, again…yet, I walk away with a
shit-eating grin. What have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Seven

Delilah

I am the biggest loser! I am lying in bed pulling my own hair out of my head. I can’t believe the

most gorgeous man in the room asked me to bed - me, Miss Frumperella - and I said no like the puss
bag that I am. What a dumb ass!

“So tell me what happened? I went to the bar to get another drink and lost sight of you,” Charlie

says. We are both lying on my bed going over what happened the night before.

I start with what must look like a dreamy look in my eye. “Well…I met Mr. Fine Ass on the

dance floor; we danced for a while and kissed…” But trail off with a wince.

Charlie frowns at me. She knows me too well to not know how the rest of my night went. “You

didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

I sigh in frustration, mostly at myself. “I couldn’t do it, Charlie! I just…I know nothing about him!

What if he’s one of those weirdos who wants to take a dump on my chest or something?”

Charlie gives me a bored look. “Those kinds of people have their own clubs where they can all

take dumps on each other’s chests,” she says as a matter of fact, as if we are just talking about eating
ice cream.

“I just couldn’t do it; I couldn’t have a one night stand with some guy that I just met.” I sigh again,

knowing what a loser I must sound like.

“So? What now?” Charlie asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“We made a deal. We’re gonna text during the week and then meet at the club again on Saturday

at nine o’clock. I promised him that if we text and get to know each other a little bit, I will wear red
lace again for him, and he will be able to take it off,” I say nervously, chewing on skin around my
pointer fingernail.

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? So you are definitely going to sleep with him next

Saturday?”

“As long as he doesn’t turn out to be some kind of whack job, then sure.” I shrug, trying to come

off nonchalant, even though I’m nervous as heck. It doesn’t matter, though, because there is no way in
hell this hot guy is going to wait for me. He can probably get any girl he wants.

A chime sounds and I glance at Charlie, who shakes her head. It wasn’t her phone. I roll over and

grab my phone off the nightstand. I look down at the screen to see who sent me a text, and when I see
who it is my heart starts to pound. Holy crap! He actually texted me! I thought I was going to have to
make the first move.

Nico: Hey Doll, it’s Nico. I thought I’d get the ball rolling. Shall we start with the basics?

What’s your favorite color? Mine is red ;)

I could not stop the smile that spread across my face. I shake my head, this guy is something else.

Of course, his favorite color is red. A little piece of me starts to fall for this guy…this guy, who I
don’t even know what his real name is or what he really looks like. How is that possible?

LaLa: Hi, Nico. Red is a lovely color. My favorite is blue

Nico: Blue, huh? Did u know that a certain part of my anatomy is that color right now?

LaLa: Is that so? I can’t imagine why ;)

Nico: Ha! Baby, I’ve been like this since we kissed last night

LaLa: Then u might want to make friends with your hand

Nico: Sweetheart, I am best friends with my hand

LaLa: LOL

“Is that him?” Charlie asks excitedly.

I nod with a stupid grin on my face. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a freaking

teenager with a crush.

Nico: Cats or dogs?

LaLa: Lol, why?

Nico: U can tell a lot about a person by their answer

LaLa: Alright, fine. Cats

Nico: Oh, God!

LaLa: What?

Nico: Cats are evil

LaLa: No they’re not

Nico: Oh, yes they are!

LaLa: Fine, dogs

Nico: U can’t just change your mind like that

LaLa: Yes I can

Nico: Says who?

LaLa: I am a woman. It’s my prerogative!

Nico: Can’t argue with that logic! I gotta run. Talk to u tomorrow?

LaLa: Absolutely ;)

I sigh, and hate to admit that it sounds a bit dreamy. Charlie is giving me a shit-eating grin that I

just want to smack right off her face.

“So? What did he say?” Charlie asks.

“He asked what my favorite color was,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug.

Charlie raises an eyebrow at me.

“What? We said we would get to know each other a little bit,” I say in our defense.

“Okaaay,” Charlie says in a “Whatever you say” kind of manner.

“Well, what about you? Did you hook up with anyone?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Nah, I got a couple of texts but none of them really caught my interest so I didn’t stay too long.”

I glare at her. “You’re the one who dragged me to this club, and you didn’t even hook up with

anyone?”

“Hey, I’m not going to just settle on some random dude. The guy needs to really catch my eye and

none of them were doing it for me,” Charlie explains.

“Except for that hottie by the stairs that you refused to talk to,” I mutter.

“Oh don’t start.” Charlie sighs. “Can we go watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply as we both head out into my living room and settle on the couch to find

something to watch on TV.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

The weekends are never long enough. It’s Monday, I am back at work, and I can’t take it

anymore. I keep glancing at my phone, waiting and hoping that it chimes to let me know that there is a
text. Ever since Saturday, I cannot stop thinking about LaLa. The feel of her body against mine as we
danced, the sweet smile on those luscious lips of hers, and damn, that kiss…I will never forget that
kiss.

I feel like a freaking chick, waiting for a man to call because he said he would, when in reality,

he does not intend to do so. Is LaLa just fucking with me? Does she really want to meet with me on
Saturday, or is she just screwing with my head? I figure since I initiated yesterday that I would wait
for her to text me first today. But, shit, I never realized how impatient I am.

I glance out of my windowed wall at Delilah. I involuntarily smile and my heart flutters for an

instant. She is looking pretty cute today. She looks like she actually took a few moments to make
herself look nice. Her hair is shiny and soft looking, not dull and limp like it was when she first
started working for me. And her outfit is still conservative, but she looks as though she bought
something new that actually fits her. She’s wearing a pale blue cap sleeved blouse and a black pencil
skirt that stops just below her knees, like the sexy school teacher I used to have wet dreams about.
God damn her!

She’s not supposed to look good. She’s supposed to be frumpy and unattractive! That’s why I

hired her, so that she wouldn’t tempt me. I wish LaLa would just text me already and distract me from
the woman sitting only a few feet away. I need to get some work done. At this rate, I am going to
have to come in this weekend, and I really don’t want to be too tired to give LaLa’s hot little bod the
attention it deserves.

I decide to go out for lunch by myself. I need time to gather my thoughts and get my shit together.

And I need to do it away from Delilah. How did I get myself into this position? Before, no woman
was tempting me…now, I can’t get my mind off two! Of course, as soon as I am otherwise distracted,

and my head clears slightly, a text comes in. I am in the middle of biting into my burger when my
phone bings. I quickly wipe my mouth with a napkin then pick up my phone, which is sitting next to
my plate.

LaLa: Hey there, hot stuff!

Nico: Hey, Doll, what’s shakin’?

LaLa: Other than my ass?

I laugh out loud, getting a few odd looks from the people sitting around me. I take a sip of my

water and clear my throat.

Nico: Nice!

LaLa: Question of the day – Favorite food & drink?

Nico: Hmm, I’d have to say buffalo wings & beer

LaLa: Sounds like a typical guy

Nico: Yeah, well…I do happen to be a guy. What about u?

LaLa: My favorite is anything Alfredo – chicken, seafood, whatever. My favorite drink is

probably lemonade. Not much of a drinker.

Nico: Cool. What are u doing right now?

LaLa: Taking a little break from work & u?

Nico: Same. Are u wearing any red lace at the moment?

LaLa: LOL, no. I’m saving that for Saturday.

Nico: So no one else is going to be seeing u without clothes on until Saturday?

LaLa: I told u I’ve never had a 1 night stand & I certainly wouldn’t be going to Club M if I had a

boyfriend.

Nico: Nice to know…

LaLa: What about u? U seem like a Club M regular

Nico: I’m not going to lie, I am, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about u & all of the

possibilities for Saturday ;)

LaLa: So does that mean u don’t have a girlfriend that you’re cheating on?

Nico: No, I do not. I might sleep around while I’m single, but I’m not a cheater.

I rub my hand over my jaw. This conversation is getting a little too heavy for me. I don’t want to

get into too much detail with her since I’m only going to be sleeping with her once. I’m just trying to
make her comfortable enough to have a one night stand.

Nico: Listen, Doll, I gotta get back to work. I’ll text u tomorrow with another question of the day

;)

LaLa: Sounds good! ttyl

I sigh and finish my burger before heading back to work. I walk down the hall toward my office,

and just as I pass the women’s bathroom, Delilah steps out and right into my path. I have no choice
but to grab her; otherwise, she would end up sprawled out on the floor. She makes a surprised squeal
and clings to my tie with both hands, which in turn, yanks my face down to hers.

Holy shit! Our noses are touching, that’s how close we are. My eyes search hers. Damn, I never

realized how beautiful her eyes are. I knew they were hazel, but up this close, I can see the details
and each fleck of green and gold. They are absolutely memorizing, and I can definitely get lost in
them. Her lashes are long and thick, making the perfect frame for those windows to her soul.

Our bodies are pressed tightly together and now I know exactly what is under those conservative

clothes that she wears. She’s got a rockin’ bod - tiny little frame with a huge rack, which at the
moment is smashed against my chest. Oh good lord! I stupidly take a breath in through my nose and
am instantly enveloped by her cherry and vanilla scent. I stifle the urge to groan.

“Nick,” Delilah says a bit breathlessly, making me wonder if that’s what she would sound like if

I had her in my bed.

I glance down at her lips - another fucking stupid thing to do – and they are plump and pink and…

fuck me! I want to know what she tastes like. I watch, as if in slow motion, as she hesitantly swipes
her tongue along her lower lip, answering the question of if she wants it, too. No! No, I will not kiss
Delilah! I will not screw the best secretary I’ve ever had! I slowly release her, making sure she has
her balance.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, Delilah, I didn’t see you.”

Delilah nods quickly and smoothes her hand over my tie. “Uh…yeah, it’s fine…I didn’t see you

either. Thanks for catching me,” she says with a tight smile, then looks away.

I scrub my hand over my scruffy jaw. “Yeah, sure, no problem.”

We stand there for a moment looking at each other before both making excuses and practically

running back to our desks. Goddamn, that was awkward! I got my cock throbbing in my pants and on
top of that, I’m confused as hell. When the hell did I become so attracted to Delilah? It’s like it just
happened overnight. She is completely off limits, though. I am not going through the torture of finding
and training another secretary. I just need to get laid, that’s all. That is definitely my problem.
Hopefully this week goes by quickly and I can forget all about Delilah while I’m planted between
LaLa’s luscious legs.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

As soon as I see that Nick is closed off in his office and is working, I call Charlie. My heart is

still pounding wildly from my collision with him.

“Hey LaLa, what’s up?” Charlie answers.

“Oh my God, Charlie. You’ll never believe what just happened to me!” I say in a rush.

“What? What happened?” Charlie asks frantically, but I know she is just humoring me, the bitch.

“I just ran into Nick in the hall. Like full out ran into him, where he had to catch me. Our noses

were touching we were so close. I could smell the mint on his breath!” I whisper into the phone,
making sure there is no way Nick can hear me freaking out.

“Oookay, and?”

“I…I think he might have wanted to kiss me. He looked at my lips and I swear to God he got a

hard on while we were pressed together,” I say in my hush hush voice.

“Oh yeah? That’s hot,” Charlie teases, not understanding the urgency of what just happened.

“What if he’s attracted to me now? Maybe I shouldn’t go to Club M on Saturday. What if I

actually have a chance with Nick? I mean, you know how I feel about him,” I ramble.

“Don’t shit where you eat, LaLa. I think you need to forget about Nick and focus on Nico,”

Charlie admonishes.

I groan and hang my head. I know she’s right. Nick is my boss and I shouldn’t even be thinking

about him as anything more than that. But he’s just so fucking gorgeous! Then again, Nico was pretty
fine, and he without a doubt wanted me. I’m not at all positive about how Nick feels about me.

“Go on Saturday and do your thing with Nico. Believe me, it’s the best idea,” Charlie says

reassuringly.

“Agh, alright, fine. I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later,” I say, aggravated at the world in general.

Charlie chuckles. “Okay, see ya.”

I hang up the phone and resist the urge to smash it. I really like Nick, and after what just

happened, I feel like he might actually like me, too. But, I also am starting to have feelings for Nico,
which I still don’t understand because I barely know the guy. Charlie is right, though, I should forget
about Nick. He does come off as kind of a player, and I really don’t want a guy like that in my life.
And, of course, there is the whole ‘he’s my boss’ thing.

A few seconds later my phone bings and it is a text from Charlie. All it says is, “I love you,” and

I smile. She always knows what I need to hear.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

As usual, I just can’t focus. Being close to Delilah is fucking messing with my head. I can’t

believe how close I came to kissing her. I’m too wound up to work right now. I need a break; maybe
I’ll go grab a snack or something out of the kitchen. I glance out my windowed wall at Delilah and see
her get up from her desk with some files in her hands. She heads in the direction of the file room and I
make my move. I walk by her desk, glancing at it as I go. Something catches my eye, making me
backpedal. Delilah’s phone is sitting on her desk with the text message screen up. Of course, I have to
be nosy, so I lean over and take a peek.

Charlie: I love you!

What the hell? Who is this Charlie guy? Delilah’s never mentioned anything about getting a

boyfriend. What the fuck? I stomp away absolutely seething. I walk down the hall toward the kitchen,
luckily passing no one on my way; I am so not in the mood to be polite. I storm into the kitchen and
start rummaging around the cabinets like a tornado for something that I can snack on. I finally find a
small single bag of potato chips. I tear that shit open and start munching away on the - God knows
how old – chips. I shrug to myself; they still taste all right.

As I stand there eating the chips, I start to calm down and think a bit more clearly. I also realize

that I’m jealous of this Charlie guy, which boggles my mind. Why on Earth would I be jealous of
some guy that Delilah is dating? I don’t want her. She’s not my type at all. Even though she has
beautiful eyes, luscious lips, is smart and funny, and is dressed really nice today; that doesn’t mean
that I have any feelings for her. Right…keep lying to yourself…asshole!

Now, LaLa – she is the kind of woman that I want. She has a gorgeous body and ripe juicy lips

that I just want to kiss. Delilah’s lips are very similar to LaLa’s. Ah! No! Stop thinking about Delilah!
Think about LaLa and all of the red lace and the steamy hot sex you’ll be having with her on Saturday.
Yeah, that’s right. Sex, you remember what that’s like, don’t you? I feel like it has been forever since
the last time I’ve had sex. I don’t think I have ever gone this long without it. Only a few more days…I
can make it.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

The week goes by way too slowly for me, but I do get to learn a decent amount about Nico, like

he is an only child, enjoys going to concerts, goes to the gym a lot, collects watches, and loves his job
(even though he won’t tell me what that is – anonymity and all that jazz). We started out texting once
a day, but by Wednesday, it turned into multiple times. We really seem to have a lot in common, and
the banter between us always has me laughing and smiling. I can only assume he feels the same
because he keeps coming back for more.

It is now Saturday and I’m just waiting for Charlie, who said she wants to come with me to Club

M again. I’ve just finished my hair and make-up when I hear my apartment door open and close. It has
to be Charlie because she is the only other person with a key. Her voice calls out for me, and I let her
know that I’m getting dressed and I’ll be right out. We went shopping after work twice this week.
Once to pick up some new work, as well as casual, clothes that fit me properly, and then again for
another dress for tonight. I went with black this time, a sexy form-fitting number that stops about mid-
thigh. The neckline is a low “V” in both the front and the back. I also made sure to pick up some new
red lace for Nico. Since the dress dips so low in the front and the back, I opted this time for a red
lace corset and matching thong. I also wanted to go all out for him, so I picked up a black and red
garter belt with black stockings, which have the black seams running down the back. If he doesn’t find
this sexy, then the man is a eunuch.

Charlie and I also picked up another mask each. I went with black to match my dress, but it has

sequins that make it shimmer, and short black feathers rimming the top of it.

We step into Club M at exactly 9:00 pm. My messenger immediately goes off in my hand, and I

look down at it to see that it is Nico. I smile and shake my head, if not anything else, the guy is
prompt.

Nico #812: Right on time, Doll

I glance around to see if I can spot him, but he’s got himself hidden again. I nudge Charlie and

show her the message. She smiles and rolls her eyes behind her mask. We made the same deal as last
time; we aren’t going to wait for each other. She gives my arm a squeeze then heads for the bar.

LaLa #128: Where are u?

Nico #812: Somewhere I can admire that stunning dress of yours

LaLa #128: You could admire it up close if u tell me where you are

Nico #812: This is true

Damn it! He’s not going to tell me where he is. I look around again but can’t find him. I don’t

even know what he’s wearing tonight or what color his mask is. I am surprised when a wine glass
appears from over my right shoulder. I turn to see Nico standing behind me with a naughty smirk
curling one side of his delicious mouth. I give him an exasperated eye roll and take the drink he’s
offering. It’s a house red. He must have remembered from last week. Then I look in his other hand - a
glass of lemonade. He shrugs his shoulders, and his naughty smirk transforms in to a shy smile. He
winks at me and another piece of me is lost to him.

After drinking and dancing for close to an hour and a half, Nico finally sends me the message I

have been dreading and anticipating this whole time.

Nico #812: Shall we go up to my VIP room?

I take a deep breath and look up into his green eyes. He is wearing an emerald green mask, which

makes his eyes pop. I can do this. I take another deep breath and nod. I am going to do this! Nico
smiles seductively and holds out his hand. As soon as I slip mine into his, we are weaving our way
through the crowd toward the steps that lead upstairs to the rooms.

Nico leads me down a long quiet hallway, making me wonder if the rooms are soundproofed.

Probably, I mean, who wants to hear another person screaming, “Oh yes! Fuck me!” I sure as hell
don’t. We stop in front of a door that has #1 VIP written on it. Well shit…I’m with the guy who is the
#1 VIP in the club. I don’t know if I should feel honored or if I should run for the hills.

He opens the door with a key card and motions for me to enter first. I walk in and am

momentarily stunned by what’s in front of me. Against one deep red wall is a giant four-poster king
sized bed that is covered in black satin sheets. I can see that each post has a bondage strap attached to
it. Then toward the middle of the decent sized room, there is a sex swing hanging from the ceiling.

I whip around to stare at Nico in shock. I open my mouth to say something to him, but he rushes to

put a finger up to my lips, reminding me that there is no talking permitted. Shit! He starts typing on his
messenger; a moment later, I get his text.

Nico #812: We won’t do anything u don’t want to do. But know that I am in charge & as soon as

u speak, we are done. I do not want to hear anything other than u moaning & screaming. 1 word & I’m
out the door

I nod, breathing out a sigh of relief. There is no way I’m getting into that swing.

Nico #812: Let’s set some rules. Obviously, the masks stay on & there is no talking. No safe

word needed because speaking is considered the safe word. Is there anything u are not willing to do?
Tell me now

LaLa #128: No anal, no animals & no sharing

Nico smiles as he reads my message and nods in agreement. Well, here goes nothing!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

LaLa looks fan-freaking-tastic! That little black dress is incredible. Oh God, I cannot wait to get

my hands on her. She looks a bit hesitant now that she has seen the room. Not all rooms look like
mine. I had Calvin put the swing in especially for me. I love using that thing. After getting the rules out
of the way, I take both of our messengers and put them on the table next to the bed. I turn back to LaLa,
she hasn’t moved a muscle. I can tell that she is still a little nervous, even though we kind of got to
know each other via text over the past week.

Calvin has music pumping in through the sound system but I rarely pay attention to what is

playing. However, tonight, for some reason, he must be in a sexy, 70s, R&B mood. When I first got
here, I came up to my room to make sure everything was clean and perfect for my night with LaLa. At

that time, Al Green was singing something about staying together. As we stand here looking at each
other, we both hear Marvin Gaye’s big hit Let’s Get It On emit from the speakers at the same time.
She offers me a naughty smile, and I note the wicked glint in her eye.

I go to her, cup her face in my hands, and just kiss her. She gasps softly, but kisses me back. God

damn, she is a fabulous kisser! I pray to God that she gives head as fantastic as she kisses. The
thought has my already rock hard cock straining even more to get out. I slip my hands down her sides,
smoothing over the outside curves of her breasts then down over the flare of her hips. From there, my
hands wander around to her ass, which is lush and oh so sexy. I press her closer and roll my hips
forward so that she can feel how turned on I am. She slowly starts to relax and soften, her hands
starting to wander over my body.

I am dying to see what she has on under her dress. I can’t figure out how she can possibly be

wearing a bra with how far the dress dips down in the front and back. Moving my hands back up to
her shoulders, I slowly drag the soft fabric over her shoulders. The dress slides over her huge tits and
stops at her hourglass shaped hips. She shimmies briefly, just before it drops to the floor at her feet. I
take a step back to look at her and my jaw drops. Holy Mother of God! Where have you been all of
my life? I can’t even begin to tell you how utterly gorgeous this woman’s body is.

LaLa is standing in front of me in a red lace corset and thong. On top of that, she has a red and

black garter belt holding up her thigh high stockings; plus, she’s still in her heels. I seriously almost
came in my pants when I got my first glimpse.

Her tits are big, perky, and real. Her stomach is flat, but she’s not disgustingly thin. She has

deliciously flared hips and toned legs. She might be short, but damn can she rock it; you don’t have to
be tall to have a bangin’ body. I am so fucking her with that corset on.

I grab her hand and practically drag her over to the swing. I desperately need my face between

her thighs, like yesterday. The closer we get to it, the harder I have to drag her. I glance back at her,
and she looks at me, her eyes wide and horrified, shaking her head fervently. I stick my bottom lip out
in a pout and press my hands together as if I’m in prayer to say, “Please.” She frowns but continues to
shake her head.

Okay, I’m about to do something that I have never done in my life before, but I’m desperate, and

LaLa needs to be treated delicately since she is already hesitant about the whole one night stand to
begin with. I drop to my knees in front of her and beg as best as I can without speaking. I flash her a
sexy smile and tilt my head trying to will her to agree. I can see her thinking about it. She finally rolls
her eyes and nods her agreement. I spring to my feet and kiss her passionately in thanks.

She melts into me as we kiss. Damn, she is so sexy, and she’s doing that thing with her tongue

again - twirling it around mine, then hones in and starts to suck on it. I’m going to need to come at
least once before I fuck her; otherwise, I’ll be going off like a freaking teenager who’s having sex for
the first time. As soon as she loosens her grip on my tongue, I reluctantly pull away because I must
taste her at once.

I help her into the swing, which is basically just a strap supporting her ass and back, with a loop

to hold each thigh up and open. There are also loops up higher on the straps where she can hold on, if
needed. I guess I can understand her hesitation; she is in a very vulnerable position, and I am in
complete control, which is exactly how I like it.

I start by kissing the inside of her thighs, making her squirm and giggle cutely; apparently, she’s

ticklish there. As I get closer to her core, the giggling stops and she begins to gasp. I get to her center
and am unable to stop the moan that comes out of me, she smells so good. I use my tongue to tease her
through the red lace thong, which is the only thing keeping me from tasting her. She lets out a throaty
moan as her head falls back. Oh yeah, I got her now, and she will do anything I want.

I tease her a little more before moving her thong aside. She is completely bare and super smooth.

She must have waxed. Holy hell! That’s really freaking hot! I instinctively lick my lips before moving
in to taste her - one lick and I’m instantly addicted. LaLa cries out in ecstasy, as I dive in, not able to
get close enough. I barely touch her, and she comes hard and fast, but I keep going because I need
more of her. Since she is unable to get away, she grabs my hair and pulls my head up and away from
her core. Dammit!

She is panting heavily as she motions for me to help her out of the swing. I help her dismount and

am shocked when she immediately kisses me. I mean, my face is still wet from her. Hot damn! This
woman is incredible! I guide her over to the bed as we continue to kiss. Once we get there, I break the
kiss and toss her little body onto the bed. She smiles and I can see her eyes sparkling with amusement
from behind her black mask.

As I am not very modest, I let her watch me while I strip. Her eyes widen and her glistening,

pouty, lips part in awe. I smile, even though I know that I must look somewhat smug. Hey, I work hard
to keep my body in shape – rock hard abs and the perfect “v” - so I can be arrogant about it if I want
to. I know most women think I am hot, so why pretend I am anything but. Plus, I have a big dick.

As soon as I am undressed, I climb onto the bed, and then on top of her. I straddle her chest,

letting her know exactly what I want. LaLa obliges and wraps that delicious mouth of hers around the
head of my cock. Oh, fuck yes! I groan and lean forward with my hands on the bed above her head.
She is going to town on my dick, and I can’t believe how close I get to coming so quickly. I drop my
head to watch her, which is when she decides to do her kiss move, sucking and swirling her tongue. I
don’t want to come in her mouth because I don’t know if she wants me to or not, so I quickly pull
away from her and roll onto my back, where I immediately come onto my stomach. I didn’t even have
to touch myself! I shove my hands into my hair as my abs pulls tight and my cock continues to pulse
and twitch on its own.

Holy fucking shit! That was indescribable. I can’t believe I just came without even having to at

least stroke myself a couple of times. That has never happened to me before. I turn my head to look
over at LaLa, who is smiling and biting her bottom lip. Witch! She knows exactly what she did to me!

I roll my eyes at her and point to the tissue box on the table next to the bed. She grabs them for me

and I clean myself. I don’t need any time to recover because even though I just came, I’m still rock
hard. Not having sex for a few weeks, plus the fact that LaLa is incredibly sexy and has me turned on
beyond belief, are key factors in why I’m still hard and ready for round two.

I go to my discarded pants and grab the three-pack of Magnum condoms that I have in my pocket.

I never use the condoms that Calvin provides in the VIP rooms. Not for nothing, but how do I know
that someone didn’t tamper with them? I tear open the box and rip off one of the packets, tossing the
rest over my shoulder. LaLa chuckles from her position on the bed. I climb back on the bed and
situate myself between her legs. She is lying on her back, her hazel eyes watching every move I make.

I bend over and kiss her. Her hands snake into the hair at the back of my head, sending goose bumps
down my entire body. For a fleeting moment, I wish it is Delilah under me, threading her fingers into
my hair, but I quickly shove that thought away. Never going to happen.

My patience wears thin as we ravage each other’s mouths. I tear away from her, panting. I sit

back onto my haunches and glare down at the evil thong obstructing my entrance into heaven. I grab
one of the thin straps at her hip and yank hard. LaLa gasps as the strap snaps off. I do the same to the
other side before pulling it off her and tossing it over my shoulder. She bursts out laughing, but covers
her mouth with her hands. I grin. I can’t help it, everything this woman does is infectious - her smile,
her laugh - a piece of my heart opens and pulls her in. I try hard to stop it, but it’s a mission
impossible.

She is still wearing the corset, garter belt, thigh highs, and heels. Jesus Christ! She is like my

porn fantasy come true. I roll on the condom that I had already opened, unable to wait another second.
Knowing that she is wet and ready for me, I enter her swiftly, making her moan and claw at my abs. I
stay up on my knees so that I can watch her. Her breasts are bouncing out the top of the corset, but I
find that it’s not enough; I want to see all of them. I reach behind her and expeditiously undo all of the
little hooks holding it together. I’ll let you guess what I did with it…yup, I chucked it over my
shoulder and onto the floor, along with everything else. LaLa immediately crosses her arms over her
chest. I frown, oh hell no! She is not going to hide those gorgeous puppies from me!

I grab her wrists and muscle them up and over her head. She whimpers and pleads with her eyes.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that she is self-conscious about them. Probably because they are
so big, and the rest of her is so tiny. I shake my head and mouth, “Beautiful,” to her. She eyes me
warily. Just to prove to her how much I love them, I lean down and pull one of her pretty pink nipples
into my mouth. LaLa moans and closes her eyes. I continue to pump my hips as I alternate between
sucking on her nipples and rolling them gently between my teeth. She locks her legs around my waist
and digs her heels into my ass. I have had enough sex to know that means that she wants shorter,
deeper thrusts. I’m on it! I drop down to my forearms - still holding her wrists – which changes the
angle in which I enter her. LaLa moans throatily and nods, exactly what she wanted. Damn, I’m good!

Her body starts to tremble so I know she’s getting close, which is fantastic because I’m right on

the verge myself. I release one of her wrists and grab the back of a thigh, lifting it. Well, that did it.
She lets out a strangled cry as she explodes. Her nails rake down my back and her legs tighten around
my waist. I can feel her contracting around my dick and I just can’t hold back anymore. I pump a few
more times, and then groan low and long as I come along with her. I collapse on top of her, kissing
her languidly. Definitely the best sex of my life. My dick has found his match.

After we take a few minutes to catch our breaths, and get our limbs working again, we clean up

and get dressed. I hand LaLa her messenger and send her a quick message.

Nico #812: You’ve left me speechless

I send to her, giving her a wry smile. She laughs quietly when she reads it.

LaLa #128: Ditto

Nico #812: I have a proposition for u

Her eyebrow rises up over the top of her mask.

LaLa #128: Oh yeah?

Nico #812: I need more of u. Next Saturday, same time?

Her eyes flick up to mine looking shocked. Then she looks back down at her messenger and

writes back to me.

LaLa #128: Really?

Nico #812: Yes, really. U are incredible & 1 night with u is not enough for me

LaLa smiles shyly and I can see that she is blushing slightly. My heart warms even more.

LaLa #128: Okay, next Saturday it is

I smile wide, unable to hold back. I have no idea why she affects me so much.

Nico #812: Great!

LaLa #128: Can we continue to text throughout the week?

Nico #812: Most definitely

LaLa smiles then reaches up for a kiss. I kiss her softly before walking her to the door. Unable to

resist her lips, I kiss her one more time before she leaves. I stay behind to do a little bit of sanitation.
I know Calvin has people who clean, but I feel better knowing that I’ve done my own room to my
satisfaction.

As I pull the sheet off the bed, I can’t help but think about the woman who was just on it.

Something happened between us, and I’m not talking about the sex. It is something deeper than that.
Maybe there is something to this whole “getting to know each other” thing. I have never met with the
same woman here more than once, but there is something about her that makes me want more. Need
more. I wasn’t lying when I told her that one night with her isn’t enough. I already can’t wait until next
Saturday. I may be in trouble with this one. Crap.

Chapter Eight

Delilah

Best.sex.ever. No, seriously, listen. Eight years with Ryan, and even in the beginning, when it

was fun and new and exciting, it wasn’t this good. I mean, it was always so routine, so
choreographed. But with Nico, holy hell! It is hot. It is primal. It is animalistic. It is...it is...orgasmic!

It makes me reminisce for a moment and wonder...What would make me stay with the same man

for so long when our sex life was so blasé? Was it because he was my first everything? When I really
think about it, I decide that it has nothing to do with that. Or with him. And it has nothing to do with
love. It is the mere fact that I am frump girl, and I always just assume that no other man will be
interested in me. That they take one look at me and decide that because I wear baggy clothes, and
don’t do my hair, or wear make-up, that I must not take care of myself. Or maybe they think my inside
matches my outside. Probably what Nick thought the first time he saw me. Of course, it didn’t take
long for him to see past my appearance to understand it doesn’t match my inside. At least, I hope
that’s the case.

Meanwhile, I found the most incredible man, who is forced to focus on my inside - okay, and

maybe my body, but not my face - and he seems to be genuinely, incredibly attracted to me. Maybe
it’s time for frump girl to be put to rest. Maybe it’s time to go shopping to completely overhaul my
closet. Maybe it’s time for sexy Delilah to come out to play, every day.

I settle in for a long, grueling workweek. We have three big trials going on at the same time, and

everyone at the office is stressed. I try to put any thoughts of Nico – and my growing, yet very
inappropriate feelings for Nick - to the back of my mind, and focus on all of the paperwork and files
in front of me. That is until this happens…

“Nick, your father is on line two,” I say calmly through the intercom. Being so stressed and on

edge, I try to keep my voice even for Nick. Plus, he told me to hold all calls, but I wasn’t sure if that
included is dad.

“Please put him through, Delilah. Thanks,” he says politely. Don’t think his overuse of manners is

lost on me.

While Nick is on the phone, I take the opportunity to run to the restroom. With all of the work

piling up, I have barely had the chance to breathe. On my way back, I stop at the kitchen for some
much-needed coffee. I make a cup for both Nick and me, and sugar and cream it for him just as he
likes. I add a little rock candy stick that I picked up a few days ago as a little surprise, hoping to
draw out a smile. My belly always does a little flip when I am on the receiving end.

I head back to our offices and as I approach, I notice that his door is ajar, and I can hear him

talking to his father. I don’t want to intrude on his private conversation, but I am dying to learn more
about him. I know it isn’t a good idea, and very selfish - a pretty dick move, actually - but I justify it
to myself, anyway. Plus, I only get one side of the conversation. I should just walk away. Give him
his privacy. But I don’t, and now I am paying for it.

“Yeah, dad. I know.” He pauses, obviously listening to his dad speak.

“I am just at a loss.” He pauses again.

“Yeah. Gorgeous,” he answers.

“No, much more,” he groans. I see him rub his hand against his jaw. This conversation must be

making him uncomfortable.

“Compatible on all levels,” he says, nodding his head. Can he be talking about me?

“Intimacy beyond compare,” he answers and a naughty smile appears on his face. He must be

thinking about them having sex. Nope, not me. And definitely way too much information.

“We talk about everything and anything,” he continues.

“Completely open and honest,” he says sincerely.

“Definitely emotionally supportive.”

“Could be my perfect match,” he adds proudly, but with a nervous laugh.

I hear, “perfect match,” and I am done. With my shoulders slouched, head hung low, I walk away

in defeat. I head back to my desk and slump into my chair. Once he started talking about intimacy, it
became evident that he wasn’t talking about me. I should have walked away then, but it was like
watching a bad accident. I rubber-necked my way into complete despair.

“Delilah? Delilah?” My attention is brought back when I hear Nick calling for me, in a singsong

voice.

“Yeah?” I say loosely, trying to shake the doldrums I created.

“You okay?” he asks innocently.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, trying to avoid any more drama.

“Because it took me calling your name a few times to get your attention.”

“Sorry, just crazy busy out here. That’s all,” I add, trying to end this conversation.

“You gonna drink both of those coffees?” he asks sarcastically.

“Huh?” I answer his question with a question, completely confused.

“You have two coffees on your desk. You planning to drink them both?” he asks again,

practically laughing at my aloofness.

“Oh, um, duh. Of course, not. One is for you. Be right there.”

I bring Nick his coffee and he gives me the smile I have been waiting for - a day late and a dollar

short.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

a bit more Delilah… just a few weeks later…

It’s been eight weeks since I met Nico, and things are going great! We still have our Saturday

night rendezvous, and we continue to text throughout the week. Lately, they have become more
personal, like the time he told me about his mother abandoning him and his father. He also told me a

little bit about his extended family, and his last serious relationship with some chick named Veronica.
I hate that name!

I try to give him all of my attention. I try to put Nick’s conversation with his father weeks ago out

my mind, but I am like a dog with a bone. I have to know more. I have to know everything. And at the
same time, I don‘t want to know anything else. The jealousy is eating away at me! Every woman
who calls, every woman that he has a meeting with, I watch closely. Is that her? Is she the one that
has him so entranced? If I see another woman touch him, I feel my anger rise. I actually get angry!
As though I have any rights to him. I need help!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Still Delilah…

Charlie and I have been spending time together shopping after work once a week for a new sexy

dress and lingerie for my Saturday nights. She also still comes with me to Club M, searching for her
own Saturday night special. I love getting all dressed up for Nico. He truly makes me feel amazingly
sexy. So I decide that now is as good a time as any to revamp my entire closet – work, weekend, and
sexy playtime.

Delilah: Hey, lady! Up for a little lunchtime shopping Thursday?

Charlie: Sure! What for?

Delilah: Think it’s time for that closet overhaul u been bugging me about

Charlie: Count me in. Will meet u at our spot. Thursday at noon. Woo hoo!

She always cracks me up. I make plans with Charlie to meet and shop a little during lunch. I have

been working for Nick for almost three months now, and I have not once left for lunch. Well, come
on, can you blame me? I am going to break this Thursday curse once and for all.

We spend my entire lunch hour trying on clothes and spending a lot of money. But I am okay with

that because I haven’t bought myself anything in a long time; besides, with the money that I am making
at the Law Firm, and the money that I am saving by living alone and only having to support myself, I
am comfortable with splurging every now and then.

I look at my watch and realize that I am already ten minutes late. I know Nick is going to be

annoyed, so I stop at the café around the corner from our office and pick him up his favorite coffee
and a cannoli for good measure. This day so far has been wonderful - I spent time shopping with my
best friend buying great new clothes and shoes, I am going to see Nico in two days for another round
of mind-blowing sex, and I finally broke my bad Thursday juju – nothing can bring me down.

I finally get back to the office fifteen minutes later, no biggie. I have never been so much as a

minute late before, so if Nick has a problem, he can suck it. Well, not really, that wouldn’t be very
professional, but you know what I mean. He can deal with it. I notice that Carmella isn’t at her desk,
and that is odd. If she needed to use the restroom, she would have done it during her lunch hour. Nick
doesn’t generally like the front desk unmanned. He doesn’t like people getting back into our private
wing without going through Carmella first. I take a quick glance around, but don’t see anybody, so I
head to my desk and plop down into my chair with a quick huff. I didn’t realize how winded I am
simply from hustling back from the café. Maybe I should join Charlie in a run to get my ass back into
shape. I am brought back to reality when my phone intercom beeps. Shit!

“Hey there, Delilah. Can you come into my office, please?” Nicks asks, much more politely than

I expect seeing as I am fifteen minutes late getting back from lunch.

“Sure, no problem,” I respond suspiciously.

I enter Nick’s office and am surprised to see Carmella sitting in a chair across from Nick’s desk.

Why didn’t I see her there when I got to my desk? I notice that she is crying, clutching a tissue in her
right hand. All different scenarios are running through my head, and I can’t for the life of me figure
out what is going on. All I can think of is that Nick is firing her, but then why would he call me in
here? And I know he respects her greatly, and treats her like a mother figure, so that just can’t be it.

“Nick? What’s going on? Carmella are you all right?” I spit out the questions without waiting for

answers.

I look back and forth between them, but no one is saying anything. I look back to Carmella, and

she begins to sob. I swing my head back to Nick, like I am watching a freaking tennis match, and he
just looks at me with pity in his eyes.

“What’s going on here, guys? You are freaking me out. Carmella, you okay?” I ask again, and my

question remains unanswered.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Delilah, and we will explain everything to you,” Nick says rather

patiently, his hands threaded tightly together in front of him, white knuckled.

This is not the Nick I know. He is usually blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t mince words,

and he certainly doesn’t “explain” things to people. I slowly plant myself into the twin chair next to
Carmella, across from Nick’s expansive desk, never taking my eyes off him. The silence is
deafening, and panic begins to set in. All I can hear is Carmella’s quiet hiccupping, her attempt to
stop crying.

“Someone tell me something,” I demand, looking back and forth between them again.

Nick stands from behind his desk and takes his suit jacket off. He walks toward me and takes a

knee at my side. I am distracted momentarily by his gracefulness for such a large man, but then he
takes both of my hands in his, and a sole tear escapes my eyes.

“Delilah, your father called while you were at lunch. He said that he couldn’t get a hold of you.

He also said that he tried calling your friend, Charlotte. It’s…your mother… she’s been in a terrible
accident,” he says sympathetically, gripping my hands even tighter. All of a sudden Carmella lets out
a loud sob, and we both turn toward her as she breaks down, covering her face with both hands. “I am
so sorry,” she wails.

“What? What did he say? Is she okay? I… I was out shopping with her. I guess our phones

didn’t have a signal. Nick? Where is she? I need to get to her.” I stand up quickly to rush out to her.
I need to get my things and get to the hospital as soon as possible. Oh God, oh God, oh God! She had
better be okay. She has to be okay. Please be okay.

Nick stands just as quickly as I do, refusing to release my hands.

“Delilah, honey. Look at me.” It takes him asking a few times, until I hear him, thoroughly lost in

my own head. When he feels comfortable that I am refocused on him, he utters the worst four words
I have heard in my entire life.

Nick frowns hard. “She didn’t make it. I am so sorry.”

Everything goes dark. Fucking Thursdays.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

And Delilah again…

The sun is shining so brightly through my window. My head is pounding and my eyes are

burning. If this is what a hangover feels like, I don’t ever want to be drunk again. I sit up slowly, but
the room is spinning a little. I must be dehydrated from crying so much. Certainly, crying and alcohol
are not the best combination. I hold my head in my hands and think about what happened during the
last twenty-four hours.

The last thing I remember is talking to Nick and Carmella, and then everything went dark. I must

have passed out in shock. I remember arriving at my parents’ house – now just my dad’s house. How
did I get there? Wait, okay, yeah… under Nick’s insistence, Carmella drove me over there. He tried
to come along as well, but knowing his schedule, and the important meetings he had that afternoon, I
didn’t allow it.

I remember seeing my dad and running in to his arms, sobbing into his own tear stained shirt. At

some point, Charlie arrived, and she just held me as I cried my eyes out. I remember the first glass
of wine that she handed me, and then maybe one or two shots. I am starting to wonder if she laced
one with a Xanax to calm me down, because I have absolutely no memory of anything after that
second shot.

I raise my arms above my head and arch my back in an attempt to stretch. Ouch, crap! My head is

killing me. I twist left, then right, trying to loosen up, and there is a huge gauze-like bandage on my
right hip. What the hell? Did I fall and not remember? I drag my hung-over, miserable, depressed
ass to the end of the bed and place my feet gently on the floor. Just being cautious in case I fell and
sprained or twisted an ankle. Nope, all good.

I walk to the bathroom with my eyes squinted from the sun and my head pounding. The room

starts spinning again and I have to put one hand on the wall so I don’t fall over. I follow the wall all
the way there and only let go long enough to get to my sink. I am wearing an old Grateful Dead t-
shirt, not what I was wearing when I left for work yesterday morning, but have absolutely no idea
how I changed into it. Oh well, not important. I lift the shirt high enough to tuck it under my chin
while I examine the bandage on my hip. It is gauze surrounded by surgical tape. Not something a
doctor or hospital would do. My curiosity is on high alert as I slowly begin to tear away the bandage,
but it just hurts too much. I know what my mom would say, so I prepare myself. I look at the ceiling
with my eyes screwed shut and countdown …3…2…1… rip! Holy mother of God! I take a few deep
breaths through the pain and tell myself to look down at my hip. But I am hesitant, scared of what I
will see. A huge bruise? Nah, wouldn’t be bandaged. A big cut? Hope not, I hate blood.

I finally suck it up and look down, and then the unexpected happens. I start laughing hysterically.

No, not a little ha ha, or a silly hee hee. We are talking full on, no holds barred, from the belly,
uncontrollable, rolling on the floor holding your sides, clenching your thighs so you don’t pee in your
pants laughter. It is a totally and completely inappropriate reaction, I know, but after what I went
through yesterday, if I don’t laugh about this, the alternative is a dark and scary place.

I briefly wonder what Nico is going to say about this tomorrow. Not that he can “say” anything.

And at that thought, my laughter begins again, but now it’s at the screwed up situation I am in: lusting
after a man I can’t have, and loving a man I can’t truly know.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Keeping with Delilah…

I follow Nico down the hallway that leads to his VIP room. He has my hand in his and I can’t

help but think how right it feels. I almost cancelled on him tonight. My mother just died two days ago,
and I wasn’t sure if I was emotionally ready to do something for myself. But I then thought of those
emerald green eyes, and the way I feel when they look at me, and I knew that I had to come to get the
affection that I so desperately need right now. He may not know it, but I know he will give me what I
need.

We enter his room and he shuts and locks the door behind us. The music playing over the sound

system tonight is a soft classical piano. A definite change from the usual, but I like it just the same. It
fits my mood perfectly. Nico, who still has my hand, pulls me closer. His fingers thread into my hair
as he leans down and kisses me slowly. The man is delicious and I could kiss him all day long. His
hands slide out of my hair and down my back, where they come to rest on my rear end. His big hands
grab hold and pull me flush against him. He rolls his hips forward at the same time, letting me know
by his large erection rubbing against my stomach, that he is ready to go.

He usually takes the lead and controls what happens while we are here, but I need control

tonight. I just lost my mother – something I could not control – so I need to gain some control back.
And I need to do it here, tonight. I slip my hands up to Nico’s chest and shove. He pinwheels back,
landing on the bed. He immediately sits up and looks at me with wide bewildered eyes from behind
his black mask. I give him what I hope is a sultry, sexy smile and saunter toward him. He watches, his
eyes locked on my cleavage. I stop in front of him, he leans forward to stick his face between my tits,
but I grab his chin and lift his face to look at me.

I wag my other finger at him, telling him not to be a bad boy, which makes him give me that

panty-melting naughty smirk of his. Ooh, he’s so bad! I mouth the word “Control” to him and point to
myself. He raises an uneasy eyebrow at me and shakes his head. I nod, mouth “Or” and point to the
door. Sometimes this whole no talking thing is a pain in the ass. Nico narrows his eyes at me, as if
he’s not sure if I’m bluffing or not. I stare at him, trying to let him know with my eyes that I am
completely serious.

He finally relents and gives me the go-ahead nod. I don’t plan on doing anything crazy, but I want

to be in charge. I push him back onto the bed and lift his arms above his head. I point to them and
mouth “Stay.” He nods in agreement. Satisfied, I slowly start to unbutton his shirt. I follow each
unbuttoned button with a kiss to his bare skin. I hear him groan low in his throat, and it’s such a sexy
sound that a shiver runs down my back. I continue until his shirt is completely open, baring his
chiseled-like-a-Greek-God torso. Ryan did not look like this, that’s for sure! This is soooo much
better. I smooth my hands down the ridges of his six-pack until I reach his belt. I can see his chest
rising and falling a little faster now and I can’t help but smile, knowing that I am the one affecting him
this way. Men are so easy.

I unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. I grab the waistband of his pants and underwear and yank

them down his thighs. I giggle when his erection slaps back against his stomach with a smack sound.
Nico lifts his head and looks down at me, a sardonic smile lifting his sexy lips, so I keep his pants
right above his knees. Nico seems to like to spread his legs wide when I go down on him, so this is
just another way for me to control him. He glances down at his pants then looks back at me

expectantly. I just give him a sweet smile and bend forward to kiss his exposed hip. He growls at me
then drops his head back to the mattress.

I kiss and lick my way closer to his cock, which keeps twitching every time I accidentally tickle

him. His hips are the most ticklish, so I take a moment to lighten the mood and go after his very
ticklish hips. He tries to hold it in, he tries so hard, but he just can’t. He bursts out laughing and grabs
my head to pull me away. I laugh as I grab his hands and put them back above his head. I give him a
pointed look to let him know not to move his hands again. He bites his bottom lip as he tries to stop
his laughter, and I can’t get over how sexy he is.

I stare into his eyes for a moment and he stares into mine. Our smiles fade. Something serious is

going on here…between us. This is not just a hook up any more. At least not for me, and I’m pretty
sure it isn’t for him, either. We’ve shared so much through our weekly texts that I can honestly say that
I do know him, or at least some of him. And I always find out more when we are together, like what
areas of his body to touch to really get him revved up, or that he has a birthmark on his knee, or that
his eyes darken slightly right before he comes. Somehow, this turned into a serious relationship for
me. How did I not see it sooner?

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick (finally!)

The emotions in LaLa’s eyes are way too heavy for me. It’s not that I’m not having feelings for

her, too, because I am. I can’t deny it. But I don’t want to be dwelling on feelings right now. Right
now, I want LaLa to continue whatever she was planning on doing to me. I’m really not ecstatic about
letting her take the lead, but she seems to be in rare form tonight - very subdued and somewhat
melancholy - so I’m doing as she asks…this one time. I don’t like giving up my control so easily. I do
love to make my ladies happy, though, especially LaLa. So, just this once, I will let her think that she
is in control, but really, I still am.

I lift my head so that I can capture those luscious lips of hers. LaLa’s eyes flutter closed as she

melts into the kiss. Her fingers lace through mine as I deepen the kiss. I want to roll over and get her
under me so badly, but I resist. She, for whatever reason, needs to feel in charge, so I squash my urge
to put her under me.

She drags her lips down my chin and over my neck. Her hands slip out of mine, tracing down my

arms as her whole body works its way south. She stops at my nipples, giving each a nibble and lick
before continuing on her journey. I tuck my hands behind my head and lift so that I can watch her. Her
silky dark hair is dusting my skin as she goes; the sensation is erotic and sensual. She bites my hip,
not hard, but enough that I jump. She glances up at me, one side of her beautiful mouth curled up, her
hazel eyes dark with desire. Shit, a man could get lost in those eyes. They remind me so much of
Delilah’s eyes. No! No thinking about Delilah, damn it! Ugh, why does that happen every time I’m
with LaLa?

My thoughts are thankfully interrupted when LaLa’s flat tongue licks a line from the base of my

cock straight to the tip. All the air whooshes out of my lungs and I have to gasp to pull more back in. I
look down at her, her emerald green mask making her eyes the main focus of her face, but all I can see
at the moment is her mouth. It is doing incredible things to my cock, and she hasn’t even put it
completely into her mouth yet.

I drop my head back to the bed and close my eyes. I feel one of her hands smooth over my hip

while the other cups my balls. Her tongue flicks over the sensitive area on the underside of the head,
right where my shaft and head meet, making me moan. I love it when she does that. What I hate at the
moment is my fucking pants. I need them off. I remove my hands from behind my head and start to
reach for my pants to shove them down past my knees, but someone gives my balls a squeeze. I yelp at
the small shot of pain that shoots through me. I gape down at her. She glances at my hands, which are
just touching the waistband of my pants before turning her dagger glare to mine. Holy shit, she’s
serious about this control thing. I slowly remove my hands, making a show of surrender, putting them
back behind my head. Seeming to have appeased her, she makes up for hurting me by sucking one of
my boys into her mouth.

LaLa is slowly torturing me. I swear she’s trying to kill me. She’s done everything but take my

cock into her mouth and she’s been down there for at least ten minutes. I’m dying here. I am on the
verge of stopping her teasing when she finally wraps her mouth around me and pulls me in deep. I
moan loudly as my hips surge up on their own accord. She moans, her mouth vibrating around me,
making my eyes roll back into my head. I never thought being teased for so long could make the actual
blowjob better. She always gives good head, but this is indescribable.

She has me on the edge within minutes. I’m so caught up in what she’s doing with her mouth that I

barely notice that the hand she had cupping my balls has moved down, and her finger is now rubbing
around my…you know…that hole…the one that is an exit only. My heart stammers nervously. What
the hell is she doing? She’s not going to stick her finger in there, is she?

That’s as much as I get to think about it because she then does her suck and swirl thing with her

mouth and I lose it. I cry out through gritted teeth as she lets me come in her mouth this time. I grasp at
the sheet as I buck under her. My orgasm seems to go on forever and LaLa is right there riding it out,
sucking me hard. A guttural shout escapes me and I’m pretty sure I black out because the next thing I
know, she is laying next to me on her stomach, her head resting on her folded arms, smiling at me.

I’m panting so hard that you would have thought that I just ran a marathon. Holy mind-blowing

orgasm! That was incredible – no, beyond incredible. I must return the favor. I kick my shoes, pants,
and underwear off, tear off my shirt then grab her. She laughs as I yank her clothes off and toss them to
the floor.

She’s finally naked and lying on her back. I’m kneeling between her legs just admiring her

gorgeous figure. Her perfect tits, soft skin, flared hips, tattoo…whoa, wait! When did that get there? I
frown in confusion and point to it. I look at her for an answer, but she just smiles and waves a
dismissive hand. There is something about her smile, though, that is a little off; it’s sad, and there is
something close to devastation in her eyes for just a second before she covers it up. I narrow my eyes
at her. She doesn’t give me any more time to think about it because she reaches up, grabs the back of
my neck, and pulls me down into a passionate kiss that has me forgetting everything but her.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick once more…

Monday mornings suck. But this Monday morning sucks in particular because I know Delilah

isn’t coming in today. My schedule is packed, I have no secretary, no coffee, and I know Delilah is
home suffering. This whole day is going to blow.

I hear a hesitant knock at my door and I look up to see Carmella standing there. Her usually

impeccable appearance is disheveled, and she looks sullen. She is looking at the floor and doesn’t
speak right away.

“Good morning, Nick. I hope you had a nice weekend,” she rasps. Now I can tell she has been

crying.

“Uneventful, but better than yours, I see. Are you doing all right?” I ask, legitimately concerned

by her morose disposition. Well, not completely uneventful. I did get my socks rocked by LaLa
Saturday night. I am still unpacking my bag, but engage in the conversation.

“I will be okay. It was just such a shock. I actually stopped by Delilah’s house on my way in to

work to check in on her.” At the sound of Delilah’s name, she has my full attention. I snap my eyes up
to see her watching me.

“How is she doing?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know. I am walking a fine line here because I

don’t want Carmella to get the wrong idea.

“I would be lying if I said that she was okay. When I left, she was just getting over a crying

spell. She looks frail, like she hasn’t eaten since we told her on Thursday. She seems to be taking it
very hard. It makes me so sad to see her suffering.” Carmella’s words were like a dagger through my
heart. I can’t stand the thought of Delilah being in pain. As much as I fight it, I know that I have come
to really care about her. As a friend, of course. Nothing more. Just a friend.

“Is there anything I can do? For you? For her?” I ask, expecting her to say ‘no.’

“I will be fine. I just need some time to process everything. But Delilah? You should stop by her

place on your lunch break. Express your condolences. Maybe you can get her to eat something,” she
coaxes. Well, shit. That seems kind of boyfriend-ish, not something a boss would do.

After thinking long and hard about what Carmella said, the guilt wins out, and I agree that I

should go and check on Delilah. I try to get through my morning meetings quickly, and when my
lunchtime rolls around, I head over to her apartment.

I am standing here staring at her door for a minute before I knock. I hope being here is the right

thing to do. I don’t want to intrude, and I don’t want Delilah to get the wrong idea as to why I am here.
I am here to offer my support, as her boss. I knock twice and it only takes a few seconds before the
door swings open. And there she is. And she looks…um…she looks… beautiful? Shit! I can tell that
she has been crying, but my dick doesn’t care. As soon as I lay my eyes on her, it begins to stir in my
slacks. She is wearing a skin tight Grateful Dead t-shirt, probably from when she was a teenager, a
pair of low cut jeans, and she is bare foot. I can see everything, and goddamn it she has a body most
men only dream about taking. She seems startled to see me at first, but then her good manners kick in
and she invites me in.

As I walk through the door, I notice a very pretty blonde stand up from the couch and head our

way. Delilah introduces her as her best friend, Charlie, and I smile while I extend my hand, realizing
what a dickhead I am. Dumbass! You were jealous of a chick! Charlie is the one who sent her the
‘I love you’ text!

“Nice to meet you,” I say politely, as I shake her hand.

“You, too. So, you are the hot boss?” she asks. Delilah smacks her on the arm and shoots her a

dirty look. I let out a quick chuckle, but stifle it when I realize how embarrassed Delilah is. Then
again, that red blush creeping up her neck is quite enticing. Actually, LaLa has the same thing happen
when she is uncomfortable. Shit! Stop thinking about LaLa.

“You look really familiar. Have we met before?” I ask. I rack my brain trying to figure out

where I have seen her before, and I have seen her before.

“I don’t think so. Unless you know any celebrities? Or have the need for an agent? I am a

personal assistant at a well known talent agency,” she answers, shaking her head and shrugging her
shoulders.

“Actually, I am good friends with Parker Hamilton. Do you work with him?” I reply.

“Yeah! He is one of our biggest success stories,” she says cheerfully.

“Small world. I went to law school with him. Parker, Calvin, and I were roommates. Do you

know Calvin?” I ask her, but am really uninterested in her answer. She is cute, but her bubbly
demeanor is getting on my nerves. She is the type of girl I usually try to avoid. And I also find myself
wanting to spend time with Delilah. Alone.

“I don’t think so. But that still doesn’t explain where you would know me from,” she says with

an annoying smile. Time to end this conversation.

“Maybe you just have one of those faces,” I murmur and leave it at that.

Delilah asks Charlie if she would like to sit with us and I internally groan. She declines, thank

God!

“I’m gonna head out. I need to get back to work,” she says as she kisses Delilah on the cheek and

heads toward the front door. “If you need anything, you call me,” Charlie soothes, “I love you.” I
smile at the exchange. She may annoy the fuck out of me, but she is a good friend to Delilah, and she
needs and deserves that. I also laugh at myself again, being reminded of the text and how irrationally
jealous I was.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” I offer half-heartedly.

“Take care of my girl,” she throws over her shoulder as the door closes behind her. If she only

knew how badly I want to “take care” of my girl. My secretary, not my girl. Get your shit together,
Santino!

Delilah and I both sit on the couch, a little too close for my comfort, considering the things I want

to do to her.

“How are you holding up?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I am not sure it has completely hit me yet. I can’t believe she is gone,” she answers

depressingly. She looks at me with her sad eyes and my heart breaks for her. I try to think of a way to

lighten the mood, but this really isn’t the time or place, so I opt for empathy.

“I know how you feel. I lost my mother when I was young,” I share. What the hell am I doing

sharing personal stories with her? She doesn’t need to know about my childhood. Every time I am
around Delilah my walls seem to come down…just like LaLa. Oooh, LaLa. I need to text her and
make sure we are on for Saturday. She was on fire at our last encounter. So passionate, like she was
trying to prove something. And that new tattoo. I can’t wait to get my tongue on it. It was too new
and too tender for me to touch last time. I need to get laid like now! I wonder if she would be willing
to meet me during the week.

“I didn’t know you lost your mother. I was wondering why only your father came to take you out

for your birthday lunch,” she says, looking at me warily. She is probably just as shocked as I am that I
shared that bit of personal information with her. Or maybe she realized my mind wandered there for a
minute.

“I did. But I am here to support you, not discuss something that happened to me over twenty years

ago,” I answer, making it perfectly clear the topic of ‘me,’ is officially closed.

“Thank you for coming. It was very thoughtful,” she whispers in a soft cry as she leans over and

lays her head on my shoulder.

It is breaking my heart watching her fall apart like this. She is usually so composed, such a strong

girl. I rub my hand over her shoulder and down her arm, trying to soothe her. My body involuntarily
leans toward her and I kiss her forehead. She is still crying softly, and I just can’t stop myself. I kiss
her forehead again, and then move down to her eyes. First her right, then her left, trying so hard to
kiss away her tears. I kiss her cheeks next, first her right, then her left, and notice the crying has
stopped. I pull my face a few inches away from hers and wait for her eyes to snap up to mine. What
is she thinking? What am I thinking? I don’t think I am thinking at all because all I want right now is
to taste her. I know 100% in my head that this is the wrong thing to do. She is mourning and very
vulnerable, and I don’t want her to think that I am taking advantage of her. But I can’t look away. Her
eyes are mesmerizing, and I am trapped. The heart wants what the heart wants, so I lean in slowly,
giving her ample time to pull away. I brush my lips lightly against hers, again giving her the chance to
say no. But just as I begin to lean back in, she licks her succulent lips, and that’s all it takes to break
my will power. I take control of the situation, as I always do, and do what I have been dreaming
about doing these last few months.

I wrap my hand around her tiny waist and lift her onto my lap so she is straddling me. Ever since

that day she fell into me at the office, I have dreamed about having her body close to mine again. I
grab the back of her head, a little roughly, and pull her lips back to mine. I nibble on her bottom lip a
few times trying to gain control over myself, but my need for her wins. I lick her lips a few times, just
as she had, and coax them open with my tongue. She lets out a soft sigh and I go in for the kill. I
plunge my tongue into her mouth seeking hers out. I kiss her passionately, and for a second I am
reminded of my first kiss with LaLa on the dance floor. I feel my dick hardening, and there is no way
Delilah doesn’t feel it, too, since she is on my lap, her warm center against mine. I refocus from my
stray thought of LaLa, and my hands wander briefly to Delilah’s jean clad ass. Damn, it is perfect! I
have always been a sucker for a little junk in the trunk.

But as I was distracted with her ass, something happened. Now, I am not saying that it means

anything in particular, but something happened that totally, utterly, completely, fucked with my head.
So, here we are, kissing and rubbing on each other like virgin teenagers, and when I get distracted –
mostly by her ass - she does it! She fucking does it! She swirls my tongue, and then sucks on it!
What the fuck?

I pull away and lean my forehead on hers. I run my hand affectionately through her hair so she

doesn’t think she did something wrong. I have learned that the hard way. Most women need the
reaffirmation. But, I am so confused. When I am with Delilah, all I can think about is LaLa. I
compare them even down to the way they kiss, and they kiss exactly the same! And then when I am
with LaLa, I am wishing it was Delilah, smelling her scent, and sometimes hearing her laugh. But first
and foremost, I just kissed and dry humped my secretary! I need some time alone.

I know it’s time for me to leave, so I tell Delilah that I need to get back to work. I lean in for a

hug and my arm lightly brushes her hip. I see her wince slightly, and then flinch.

“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly.

“Yeah, just still a little sensitive,” she responds, rubbing her hip.

“Sensitive? Your hip?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah, I got a little something in memory of my mom,” she answers, as her eyes well up a little.

“On your hip?” I ask again, still confused.

“It’s just a little dancing bear,” she mutters.

“A dancing bear?” I confirm.

“Yeah, you know. She’s a DeadHead, remember,” she explains.

“Of course, I remember. Let me see...”

She pulls up the edge of her shirt, and I almost pass out. It just can’t be. I look at the tattoo, then

her eyes, then her mouth. Tattoo. Eyes. Mouth. Tattoo. Eyes. Mouth. No! No! No! It can’t be!

“When did you get that?” I ask almost accusatorially.

“Friday,” she mumbles, sounding bored with this conversation.

“So you had it Saturday night?” I ask, frustrated.

“That’s usually how it goes. Saturday does come after Friday,” she answers snarky, obviously

not liking the way I am questioning her.

I nod slowly and look toward the ceiling. I take a step back and turn around to compose myself. I

take a deep breath, exhale, squeeze my eyes shut tightly, and rub my temples. Practically willing for it
not to be true. I turn back around and open them slowly, looking deeply into her beautiful hazel eyes
still rimmed in red from crying and still puffy from mourning her loss. Mother fucker! Those are the
same eyes that wish me good morning and hand me my coffee five days a week. The same eyes that I
get lost in while I am screwing her every Saturday night. The same eyes that I dream about every
night, and wish I woke up to every morning. Fuck me! I chuckle ironically to myself… I guess I pretty
much do wake up to them. And now she is watching me warily, shooting me a funny look. Most
likely because of the way I am behaving. Fuck! I need to get out of here.

“I need to get back to work,” I state firmly.

“Are you sure? You are welcome to stay,” she offers.

“Thank you, but I am sure. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of this week off?”

“But it’s only Monday,” she confirms. Maybe she thinks I can’t get along without her. Or maybe

she is concerned for her job. Why do I have the need to affirm her feelings? God damn it, she is
turning me into a pansy ass!

“You need to spend time with your dad and make sure he is squared away. Call me if you need

anything. Otherwise, I don’t want to see you step foot in the office until next Monday.”

“Thank you, Nick. For...for everything. Have a great week.”

“You, too, Delilah. Thank you,” I say with a slight stutter and shy smile. “It will be a rough week

without you.” I wink as I head out the door.

What the fuck was that! Why the fuck did I just wink at her? And why the hell did I stutter?

Women don’t make me uncomfortable. I don’t get nervous around them. It is still just good old frumpy
Delilah. Shit! What am I supposed to do about my standing Saturday night date with LaLa…I mean
Delilah? I think I am going to hyperventilate!

Anyway, it was just a kiss, right? Yep, nothing to it. Just a kiss. I felt nothing. I was just

comforting her in her time of need. I felt nothing. But it was also LaLa. And with her, I always feel
something. There’s no denying our connection. Nope, I felt nothing. Yeah, right, buddy. Then why do
you keep repeating it? Who are you trying to convince

Chapter Nine

Nick

I still can’t believe that I have been fucking Delilah this whole time! How have I not figured it

out sooner? I mean, now that I know, it seems so blatantly obvious - the way she smells, her eyes,
those lips, her laugh, the tattoo. All of those things reminded me of Delilah at the time, but I didn’t
think it was actually her! I should have known when no other woman was able to get me hard, other
than the two of them… er… other than Delilah. Un-fucking-believable! And now she knows all of the
personal and embarrassing shit about me that I would have never told her had I known it was her.
Jesus fucking Christ! What am I supposed to do now? I can’t tell her that I know, and I can’t keep
seeing her. But just the thought of not being with her again hurts my heart. I have been so confused by
my feelings that have been developing for both Delilah and LaLa, but I’m even more confused now
that I know that the two women who I have been having feelings for are actually the same freaking
woman. That blows my fucking mind!

And now I have to deal with the fact that today is the first day Delilah will be back at work since

we’ve kissed, and since I found out that she is in fact LaLa. I am completely unsure how to act. I don’t
want her to think anything is up, but I don’t want her to think that the kiss we shared has changed our
relationship, because it hasn’t. She’s still my secretary and I’m still her boss. That’s how it’s going to
stay.

As I walk down the hall toward Delilah’s desk, I see that she is sitting there looking at whatever

file is open on her desk. She looks sullen, and I can’t really blame her, she just lost her mother a
couple of weeks ago. Her shoulders are hunched and she has her chin propped up in her palm. I stop
in front of her and clear my throat.

“Hey there, Delilah, doing okay?” I ask softly, hoping my greeting, which has become our running

inside joke, lifts her spirits a tad.

Delilah immediately straightens and looks up at me with wide eyes, completely unaffected by my

salutation. “Oh, Nick, I didn’t even hear you walk up,” she rambles as she grabs the cup of coffee in
her right and holds it out toward me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the coffee. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back?”

Delilah nods. “I’m fine. I can’t stay home another day, makes things worse,” she croaks.

Oh, God, please don’t cry! I can’t handle it when she cries, it breaks my heart.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” I say and start for my office.

“I’m sure,” she says resolutely.

“Alright, grab a note pad then, we have work to do,” I say before disappearing into my office.

Delilah follows a minute later. She quietly sits down in the chair in front of my desk. I can tell

she’s not all here. Her eyes are downcast and her shoulders are hunched again. I feel the urge to snap
at her to straighten up, but I bite my tongue - she’d probably end up crying. I watch her for a moment,
and I feel my desire rise. Everything about her turns me on now. Not only does she have an incredible

body that I’ve come to know very intimately, but she is also smart, funny, honest, giving, and kind.
She is my perfect woman. Fuck. Me.

My mind wanders back to Saturday when LaLa…I mean…Delilah and I were last together.

Damn, the things we did together. I stifle a shudder. Thank God I’m behind my desk because my dick
is remembering, too, making my pants uncomfortably tight in the groin area. I remember every little
detail about her - what she tastes like, the sound of her moaning, how amazing she feels when I’m
inside of her. Ahhhh! I have to stop, or I am going to jump over my desk and attack her.

I take a deep breath to try to calm myself, but all I get is a whiff of Delilah’s incredible scent,

that damn lotion that she wears. It drives me insane with lust. I can’t do this right now. I need to get
my head on straight before I can be this close to her.

“You know what, Delilah? Let’s do this later. I’m not ready yet, sorry,” I say, shuffling through

files on my desk, pretending to look unorganized.

Delilah glances at me and nods. “Okay, Nick. Just let me know when you’re ready,” she says

quietly as she stands and heads for the door.

“Shut the door behind you, please,” I call just before she walks out.

Delilah does as she’s told, just as she does in bed, and closes my door. I sigh heavily and scrub

my jaw roughly. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t get rid of her; she’s great at her job,
and I need her. There has to be a way for me to work with her without constantly thinking about
kissing her or fucking her. As of right now, though, I am blind to it.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I frown down at the text message that just came in, shaking my head in disbelief. Dammit! I am

already dressed, Charlie is on her way over, and now Nico is cancelling on me, again. That’s two
Saturdays in a row now, with no explanation, and I don’t know what to think. Has he just had some
things come up, or did I do something and he doesn’t want to see me anymore? His texts during the
week have also become few and far between, making me think it’s the latter - that he just doesn’t want
me anymore. Maybe he found another woman that he likes better than me.

My emotions are all over the place. I’m hurt, angry, and disappointed. Then to top it all off, Nick

has been acting strange, too. He has become distant and short with me. He barely spoke to me this
whole week, and I don’t know what to think about that, either. Does it have something to do with his
“perfect match” chick? Is he getting tired of me? Did I do something wrong? Is he planning to fire me?

Charlie suddenly appeared next to me. “Hey, chica. You ready to go?”

I jump and scream at the sight of her, pressing my hand over my pounding heart. “Jesus, Charlie!

When did you get here?”

“About a minute ago,” she says with a shrug. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not going. Nico cancelled on me again,” I mutter, dropping down to sit on the end of my

bed.

Charlie frowns down at me. “Really?”

“Yeah, I think it’s over.” I sigh.

“No, don’t say that. Maybe he’s having personal problems that you don’t know about,” Charlie

says reassuringly and sits down next to me.

I shake my head. “No, I can feel it. He’s done with me and moving on to the next woman. This

was only supposed to be a one-night stand anyway. I don’t know what I was thinking letting it go on
for this long, and letting my feelings get involved.”

“LaLa, you don’t know for sure,” Charlie says, patting my thigh.

I sigh heavily, trying to let Charlie’s positive attitude overpower my negative, but it’s not really

working. I feel like my life is falling apart - first my mom dies, now Nico is dumping me, and Nick is
probably going to fire me. I can’t stop the tears that suddenly well up and start spilling over.

“Aw, LaLa, don’t cry,” Charlie murmurs and pulls me into her arms.

It’s too late to stop it, so I grab onto my best friend as I cry my eyes out. And it’s one of those

ugly cries that you can only do in front of your mom or best friend. But I don’t have a mom any more,
and the sobs continue to rack my body. After a few minutes of letting it all out, I feel completely
empty. After the last few weeks, I can’t even believe I have any tears left to shed. I quietly extract
myself from Charlie and head into my bathroom. I blow my nose and remove my makeup. Going back
into my bedroom, I change into a pair of yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt; all the while, Charlie sits on
my bed and frowns at me.

“You can still go if you want to, Charlie. I’m going to go eat a tub of ice cream and watch TV,” I

tell her as I head out into my living room.

Charlie follows me. “I’m not going if you’re not.”

I shrug. “Suit yourself.”

I go into my kitchen, open the freezer and pull out a carton of Rocky Road. After shutting the

freezer, I grab a spoon and go back into my living room, where I plop down onto my couch and grab
the remote. I turn the TV on and flip through the channels to try to find something worth watching. I
stop on the DIY network to watch Holmes on Homes, one of my favorites. No one can work a pair of
overalls like Mike Holmes. I open my ice cream and dig in.

“Do you want me to stay?” Charlie asks quietly.

“If you want to, but don’t expect me to be much fun,” I answer around a mouthful of chocolaty

goodness.

Charlie disappears, returning seconds later with a spoon. She flops down next to me in her little

purple dress and shoves her spoon into my drown-in-your-sorrows ice cream. I stare at her as she
sticks a spoonful of Rocky Road into her mouth, her attention on the TV. I just snort to myself and
shake my head. That’s my Charlie.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

My weekend sucked ass and I have no doubt that the rest of the week is going to suck ass, too. I

feel like a complete dick for cancelling on LaLa - I mean, Delilah – for a second time, but I just
couldn’t meet up with her, not while knowing who she really is. I show up for work on Monday in a
shit mood. I take my coffee from Delilah without a word, go into my office, and shut the door. I set my
bag down next to my desk and drop heavily into my chair. I glance up as I roughly scrub my hand over
my jaw to see Delilah watching me warily through the window. Shit. She probably thinks I’m mad at
her or something. I sigh and wave her in. Delilah stands and opens the door, popping her head in.

“Yes, Nick?” she asks quietly.

“Come in and sit, please,” I say, taking a deep breath and letting it out quickly.

Delilah does as she is told, as expected, and waits patiently as I build up my courage and push

away my pride. “I’m sorry, Delilah,” I say softly.

Delilah frowns hard. “For what?” she asks somewhat nervously.

“For being such an ass lately. I’m just having some personal issues. I don’t mean to take them out

on you,” I say sincerely.

Delilah lets out the breath she was apparently holding. “Oh, thank God. I thought you were going

to fire me.” She breathes.

It’s my turn to frown at her. “What? Why would I do that? You’re the best secretary I have ever

had.”

Delilah smiles slightly. It’s the first smile I’ve seen on her in weeks. “Thank you,” she says, “I

really needed to hear that right now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” I ask warily.

“Oh, it’s nothing you’d want to hear,” she answers, waving a dismissive hand.

“Try me. Maybe I can give you a different perspective,” I say. Why the hell am I trying to get her

to talk to me? I’m supposed to be distancing myself from her.

Delilah lifts her eyes and looks into mine. I really miss looking down into those hazel beauties of

hers while I... Focus, Santino! “I just…I was seeing this guy, and I thought everything was going
really well, but he just cancelled our last two dates we had set up and he kinda stopped talking to
me.”

I swallow hard. That’s not what I thought she was going to talk about. “So, forget about him.

He’s obviously not worth your time,” I say, trying to tell her what she needs to hear.

“But everything was going so great. I just don’t understand what went wrong or what I could

have possibly done to push him away. I really thought I was falling in love with him,” Delilah says
sadly.

Love? Did she really just drop the L-bomb? I try to swallow but my mouth has gone dry. How

could she possibly be falling in love with me? I mean Nico. She has never even seen his…my…oh,
what the fuck! My face! Nor has she ever heard my voice. How can she be falling in love with
someone simply by talking to them through text messages and emails, and fucking them once a week?

“Love? Really?” I croak. “What do you love about him?”

Delilah shrugs. “It’s hard to explain. It’s the way he touches me. God, I can’t believe I’m even

telling you this. He’s gentle and affectionate and he seems genuinely interested in me, or he was.” She
sighs deeply, unable to make eye contact.

“Is he a good looking guy? I mean, are you attracted to him?” I ask curiously because she hasn’t

said anything about my looks yet. I always figure that’s what women look for most in a guy – rich,
handsome face, and a rock hard body.

Delilah shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, of course, but that’s not what draws me to him. Like I said,

it’s hard to explain. We have this…connection. He tries to come off strong, but I know that it’s all an
act, that he is actually pretty vulnerable. And we seem to have meaningful conversations, and share
deeply personal stuff easily. I find myself needing to be there for him, to help him, to love him. I can’t
wait until the next time we are together, while we are together. If that’s not love…” she trails off,
looking defeated.

I sit there in silence, digesting everything she has just said about me, even though she still doesn’t

know she’s really talking about me.

Delilah then laughs bitterly and shakes her head. “I’m such a fool for thinking that I could land a

guy like that. He probably just got tired of me and has moved onto the next piece of ass without even a
thought in my direction.”

Her self-deprecation ignites my anger. “Hey! Don’t talk about yourself like that. It’s his loss if he

can’t see how great you are,” I say before realizing that I am talking about myself. Dammit, I am an
asshole.

Delilah shrugs again as if she’s not convinced then gets up and heads for the door. “Call me if

you need anything,” she mutters before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

I stare at the back of her head as she sits down and starts working on whatever is in front of her.

Love. The word keeps echoing in my head. My heart flutters at the thought that she is, strike that, was
falling in love with me. I still don’t understand how it’s even possible, but right now, that doesn’t
even matter. What matters most is figuring out the answer to the million-dollar question… am I falling
in love with Delilah?

The day just drags on, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Delilah has been in

and out of my office all day, leaving me with wafts of her delicious scent. She looks completely
miserable, and the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss away her pain is becoming almost
unbearable. I hate that dejected look in her eyes, and I hate even more that I’m the cause of it.
Thankfully, she doesn’t know that, yet. I don’t know what to do because she will inevitably figure it
out. And I don’t want to be around when she does. I mean, I do want to tell her who I am, but then I
will have to face questions that I am not ready to answer. Questions like, “Am I falling for her, too?”
Because if I am honest with myself, I’d say yes - I’m not, though…honest, that is - I’m a lying bastard
and plan on staying that way.

I spend the next few hours torturing myself, but let’s face it, I deserve it. Later that afternoon, the

intercom on my phone beeps and Delilah’s sweet voice fills my office.

“Nick, Calvin is here,” she says.

I look up from the file on my desk to see Calvin standing in front of Delilah’s desk, smiling his

normal flirty smile. How did I miss the big black dude walking up? I should have at least seen him out
of my peripheral. Damn, I’m really out of it today. I get up from my desk, button my suit jacket, and
head out to greet Calvin. My true intention, clearly, is to get him away from Delilah as soon as
possible. She is feeling self-conscious about her break up with, well, me, and she could fall prey to
the attention of another good-looking man. This will no doubt set me off. No rebounding with Calvin
on my watch.

However, what he did next was so devastating, so calamitous, so catastrophic, that I don’t think I

will ever forgive him. He smiles when he sees me and takes a couple steps toward me, meeting me
right next to Delilah’s desk. He gives me a man hug, clasping hands and bumping my shoulder with
his. He then says the dreaded words that will forever haunt me.

“Nico, my man, where were you Saturday?”

I swear to God, time froze. My heart stopped and I thought my breakfast was going to come back

up. I slowly turned my head to look at Delilah. I found her staring at me in utter shock. Someone
please kill me! I am in so much trouble right now.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I know I didn’t hear Calvin right. He did not just call Nick – Nico. He did not just ask Nick

where he was on Saturday. The same day that Nico and I meet, the same day that Nico cancelled on
me. I am staring at Nick when he slowly turns his head to look at me. The guilty look on his face
answers my question. Nick is Nico, and he knows that I am LaLa. Sonofabitch!

“Whoa, what just happened?” Calvin asks, noticing the shift in the atmosphere.

“What did you just call him?” I practically growl.

“Uh…Nico? It’s his code name at my club. You know, Club M,” Calvin says in confusion.

“Delilah…” Nick starts but I cut him off.

“You knew?” I ask, quickly getting to my feet.

“Not the whole time. I swear!” he replies, wide-eyed.

“Aw, shit.” Calvin breathes and hangs his head as he realizes what just happened.

“That’s why you cancelled on me the past two Saturdays, isn’t it? You knew!” I snap angrily.

“How did you find out?” I demand.

The pained look on Nick’s face did nothing to cool my rage. He betrayed my trust and I will

never forgive him for this.

“It was your tattoo. I saw it on you when we met a few weeks ago at the club. Remember, I

pointed at it? Then at your apartment that following Monday when I stopped by, after we kissed,”
Nick answers quietly.

“You knew all this time and didn’t say anything to me?” I shriek.

“I didn’t know what to do, Delilah, I was confused!” Nick says almost pleadingly.

Suddenly, my earlier confession comes back and slaps me across the face. I gasp and cover my

mouth with my hands. “I told you this morning that I was falling for…Nico, who is really… you, and
you still couldn’t find the common decency to tell me,” I hiss.

“Delilah, please…I’m sorry,” Nick groans.

“No! I don’t want to hear your stupid apology! I trusted you! I gave myself to you for two months!

I did things with you that I’ve never done with anyone! I told you things that only my best friend
knows. How could you deceive me like this? How could you come in here every day for the past
three weeks, knowing that I’m the one you have been sleeping with, knowing how hurt I have been
from losing you, and still not fucking tell me?” I scream at him not caring who hears, my fists
clenched at my sides.

Nick just stares at me, stunned. His eyes are wide and his mouth is parted, but he says nothing. I

can feel the tears building, but I will die before I cry in front of him about this. I turn around and grab
my purse and sweater before turning back to Nick. He is still staring at me, but now his expression
has changed to something close to defiance.

“Tell me this. Why should I have told you? It’s not rocket science. You could have figured it out

if you really wanted to,” Nick sneered. “The only thing hiding me was the mask across my eyes.
You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t notice similarities between Nico and me?”

I gape at him. “Of course, I noticed! I’m not blind! And don’t try to turn this around on me and act

like it’s my fault! You knew for sure, had it confirmed, and still didn’t tell me!”

Nick crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at me almost in boredom. What a fucking

dickhead! His arrogance is so infuriating that I am tempted to slap him across the face or stomp on his
foot with my heel.

“You know what? You are not the man I thought you were. I quit and LaLa says to tell you that

she’s dumping your sorry ass,” I snap and shoulder past him as I start for the door.

Well, that got his attention, and boy did he change his attitude pretty quickly. “No, Delilah!

Wait!” he calls as he starts after me.

“Save it, Nick. Or is it Nico? I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” I mutter flippantly

over my shoulder.

He grabs my arm from behind and spins me around, his bright green eyes showing all of his pain

and guilt. Good, he deserves to suffer.

“You can’t quit, Delilah. I need you,” Nick whines, closing his eyes and lowers his head briefly

in defeat.

I scoff. “Is that the reason you didn’t say anything? Is that why you want me to stay? Because you

need your precious secretary? Well, you can go fuck yourself, you selfish bastard!” I say, tearing my
arm out of his grasp and run for the door.

“What? No! That’s not what I meant! Shit! Delilah! That came out wrong!” Nick yells down the

hall at my back.

I flip him the bird over my shoulder and shove the door open, praying to God that he doesn’t

follow because I can’t hold back these tears any more. I quickly race to the elevator and jab the button
until the damn thing opens. I hit the button for the first floor, and then the button to close the doors.
Just as the elevator doors close, I see Nick’s distraught face appear. I can hear him call my name
through the doors. Nothing he can say or do at this point can fix this. I cup my hands over my ears to
block out his voice. Finally, the elevator starts to move and my heart shatters into a million pieces as
the tears finally fall.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I bang my head on the elevator doors a couple of times. Idiot! Fuck, how could I have been so

dumb? Did I really think she would never find out? I sigh heavily and push away from the elevator
and start back toward my office.

“Nick? Nick, what happened?” Carmella asks in concern as I pass her desk.

“Delilah just quit,” I mutter.

“What? Why?” Carmella asks, stunned.

“Because I’m an asshole,” I reply before starting down the hall toward my office.

As I get closer, I can see that Calvin is waiting for me, his hands shoved into his pockets, a sad

look on his face. I spread my arms out and give him an incredulous look.

“Dude! What the fuck did you have to go and call me Nico for? What happened to anonymity?” I

bark at him.

Calvin lifts an eyebrow at me. “Man, how was I supposed to know that she didn’t know? I

thought you guys were doing some kind of secret role-playing shit.”

“Well, we weren’t, and now you just went and screwed everything up. Thanks a lot, Cal,” I snap

at my best friend.

“Whoa, hold the phone. I didn’t do this to you, you did this to you. You gotta own your shit! First

you tried to turn it around on Delilah, and now you’re trying to turn it on me. How about you grow a
pair and look at who really is to blame here. This is all on you, bro,” Calvin says calmly, even though
I can see in his eyes that he is one pissed off motherfucker. And it takes a lot to tick Calvin off. Shit, I
am a dick. “I’ll give you some time to get your shit together before I give you a call,” he said evenly,
turned, and headed down the hall toward the door.

I grind my teeth together as I watch Calvin leave. Damn him! Why does he always have to call

me out on my shit? Can’t he just let me blame everyone but myself for once? I’m such an ass. I just
lost the one woman that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with and pissed off my best friend, all in a matter
of fifteen minutes. Wow, great job douchebag! I have to be the biggest jackass on this planet. How
the hell am I supposed to fix this? I know Calvin will forgive me, but Delilah? I’m not so sure.

Chapter Ten

Delilah

My hair smells and I haven’t gotten out of bed in three days. That’s a lie, I got out of bed to go to

the bathroom, but that was it. Lying here now, with my hair covering my face, I can smell it and it
doesn’t smell good. My room is dark even though it’s the middle of the afternoon because I have all
of the blinds closed. This is my pit of despair, and I never plan on coming out. But, of course, once
again, shit doesn’t go my way. My bedroom door is thrown open, and an infuriated Charlotte Fisher is
standing in the doorway, backlit by the light from the rest of my apartment.

“What the hell is going on here?” she squawks.

I hiss at her like the vampire I’m trying to become and pull the covers up over my head. I hear her

stomp toward me. Knowing that she is going to try to rip them away, I tighten my hold and wait for the
attack. Boom! She strikes – hard and fast – grabbing the covers and yanking them completely off me.
She tosses them to the floor and plants her fists on her hips.

“Why are you holed away in your bedroom, and why is your phone off?” Charlie asks in the tone

she gets when she is determined to get an answer, no matter what.

“Go away, I want to be alone,” I grumble and shove my head under my pillow.

“No way, Elvira, not gonna happen. You might as well tell me what’s going on. Are you sick?”

she asks.

“No,” I grunt from under my pillow.

“Dying?”

“I wish,” I mutter quietly, hoping it was too low to hear.

“I heard that!” Charlie snapped.

Dammit.

Charlie sits on the bed, making me roll slightly toward her. Her hand comes down to rest on my

arm. “Whatever it is, LaLa, you know you can tell me,” she says softly.

“I know. I’m... I just… it hurts,” I whisper brokenly, my other arm flung across my face.

“This has to do with Nico, then?”

“And Nick.”

“Nick? What does he have to do with it?” Charlie asks, confused.

I lift my head up so that the pillow falls away. I look at Charlie through my already teary eyes.

“Nico is Nick, Nick is Nico!” I say sounding like Ace Ventura when he finds out that Finkle is
Einhorn and Einhorn is Finkle.

“Shut the fuck up! Are you serious?” Charlie gasps and covers her mouth and nose with her

hands.

I nod. “And he knew I was LaLa for weeks and never told me. I just talked to him that morning

about Nico, telling him that I thought I was falling in love with him, and he still didn’t say a word…”

I blab out almost hysterically.

“How did you find out then?”

“His friend, Calvin. You know, the one that owns Club M? He came into the office on Monday

and called Nick, Nico, in front of me,” I say, my lip curling up in disgust at just the thought of that
bastard’s guilty face when Calvin spilled the beans.

“Wait, so you’ve been in here since Monday?” Charlie asks slowly.

I shrug sheepishly.

“LaLa! It’s Thursday!” my best friend shrieks and jumps to her feet. “No wonder you fucking

stink! Get up right now and get into the shower. Then we are going to get you something to eat…
fucking men,” she snarls the last part as she leaves the room.

I sigh heavily as I pull myself up into a sitting position. I sit there for a moment before heaving

myself out of the bed and into the bathroom. I swear I spent an hour in the shower just washing my
hair. I’m feeling much better by the time I get out. I get dressed in an old baggy t-shirt and sweatpants,
and then shuffle out into the living room where I find Charlie looking through my take-out menus.

“What do you want to eat?” Charlie asks, looking up from the menus.

“Everything and lots of chocolate,” I mumble.

“How about pizza?”

The tears hit me hard and fast. I drop my face into my hands to try to muffle my uncontrollable

sobs.

“What? What happened?” Charlie asks frantically as she rushes over to me. “Did you stub your

toe?”

“No, it’s just…it’s just that the last time I had pizza… it was with Nick in his office,” I wail.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Delilah!” Charlie says in exasperation. “You need to get over that piece of

shit and stop having a pity party. You deserve better than him and you know it!”

I collect myself as best as I can and give Charlie a jerky nod. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

“Okay, can I order the pizza now? What kind do you want?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “Whatever, I don’t care, just order something.”

“Ugh! I hate depressed LaLa!” Charlie huffs and pulls out her cell phone.

While Charlie orders food, I go into my kitchen and turn my phone back on. It is sitting on the

counter, shut off. The voicemail button shows that I have twenty messages. Most likely, more than half
are from Charlie. I hope that Nick hasn’t called. I really can’t handle even hearing his voice right
now. I go through the messages and I am right about most of them being from Charlie. A couple of
them are from my dad, one from Carmella, and thankfully, none from Nick. Asshole. Don’t get me
wrong, I’m not expecting him to call, and I really don’t want him to, but if he did, it would at least tell
me that he cares, even if it’s just a little bit. But there’s not even a text. Nothing. Apparently, that’s
what I mean to him. Nothing. I should have known that he is a selfish fucking bastard.

After Charlie and I scarf down a whole pizza, we talk some more about what happened. Charlie

calls in a couple of favors to get me an interview at another law firm on Monday. It’s good to have a
best friend who knows people.

“Don’t worry, LaLa, you’re strong. You just have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and show

that fuckhead that he can’t bring you down,” Charlie says firmly. “That’s the best revenge. Well, that,
and maybe an itty bitty rumor about his itty bitty man parts.” She chuckles and winks at me.

There she goes again, always knowing the right thing to say to me. I take a deep breath and nod.

“Yeah, you’re right… about the picking myself up part!” I sigh. I know she’s right, but it’s really hard
to not be hurt and disappointed and betrayed. “I’m sure I’ll feel better as time goes on.”

“You will.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I love you.”

“Love you, too, LaLa.” Charlie smiles and gives me a much-needed hug.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

What a fucking mess. I’m talking about everything - my office, my hair, even my clothes. Files,

papers, and just what-the-fuck-ever is piled up all over my desk. This is usually the stuff that Delilah
keeps organized and neatly filed. I didn’t even bother putting anything in my hair this morning, so it’s
doing whatever the hell it wants. I keep raking my hand through it because it keeps falling down into
my eyes, so that’s not helping it any. My shirt and pants are wrinkled because I ended up sleeping
here last night; I was trying to catch up on some things and ended up falling asleep in my chair, not
waking up until this morning at 8:00 am. I couldn’t bother running home to shower and change.

This whole week has been a nightmare. I lost Delilah on Monday, and the work has been piling

up since then. I lost a major case on Tuesday because I wasn’t as prepared as I should have been. I
got into a fender bender on Wednesday with my McLaren, so now my car is in the shop and I’m stuck
with a piece of shit rent-a-car for a week or two. Not to mention the fact that it is going to cost me
tens of thousands to fix.

It’s now Thursday and I’m about ready to lose my fucking mind. My heart has been aching since

Delilah left and I just don’t know what to do about it. I’ve never been in this position before. No
woman, since my mother, has made my heart ache, and I don’t like it one fucking bit. To tell you the
truth, I haven’t let one get close enough to find out. I usually drop them before I develop any feelings
whatsoever - even faster if they start feeling something.

I called Calvin yesterday and apologized, so we’re cool again, but I have yet to call Delilah. I

don’t know what to say to her, and I know “sorry” isn’t going to cut it. I absolutely have to do
something soon, though, because I can’t have my office looking like this any longer. The
disorganization and disarray is affecting every aspect of my life. I need to either call Delilah to beg
her to come back, or try to hire someone else; that thought, though, just turns my stomach.

I’m sitting at my desk with my head in my hands when there is a knock on my door. I lift my head

wearily to see Carmella standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand. She gives me a warm
smile and starts forward.

“I thought you could use this,” she says sweetly and extends the coffee to me.

I take it from her and give her a tight smile. “Thank you, Carmella.”

“No offense, hon, but this place looks like shit and so do you,” Carmella snorts as she looks

around my office.

I grunt in agreement and take a sip of the coffee.

“Have you called Delilah?” she asks, her eyes coming back to meet mine.

I shake my head. “No.”

“And why the hell not?” she asks sharply, shoving her hands on her hips.

I sigh heavily and lean back in my chair. “I don’t know. She probably hates me and doesn’t want

to talk to me anyway.”

“Oh, bullshit, Nick. You are just being stubborn. You may not be used to having to chase after a

woman, but guess what buddy, Delilah is not going to make the first move. That has to be you,”
Carmella says, giving me a pointed look.

I groan and scrub my hand over my scruffy jaw, which definitely needs a trim. “I don’t know

what to say to her. I screwed up, I hurt her, and I don’t know what to say or do to fix it.”

“Why don’t you go over to her place? I’m sure once you see her you’ll know what to say,” she

says.

“I don’t know…” I hedge. I’m not even sure what I want at the moment. Part of me wants to get

Delilah back, but then the other part thinks I should move on and forget about her.

“She’s not going to wait forever. She’s going to move on, get another job, another boyfriend…

once her heart heals, you will have less of a chance of getting her back,” Carmella says seriously then
starts for the door. Another boyfriend? Was I her boyfriend? And how the hell did Carmella know
about Delilah and me?

As soon as Carmella leaves and is out of sight, I decide it’s time for a major temper tantrum. I

shove out of my chair so hard that it tips backward and crashes to the floor. I chuck the cup of coffee
Carmella just gave me at the window that overlooks Delilah’s desk. Of course, it explodes all over
the window and splashes back onto the carpet. I swipe an arm across my desk, sending papers and
files all over the fucking place. I yell wordlessly in aggravation as I turn and punch a hole in the wall
behind my desk.

“Motherfucker!” I cry and shake my hand out. Damn it, that hurt, and now I have to have someone

come fix the hole in the wall. Nice job, dumbass!

You know what? Fuck Delilah! I already apologized to her. I shouldn’t have to do it a million

times. I don’t know what she is so mad about in the first place. So what if I didn’t tell her! She didn’t
have to make it a bigger deal than it really is! I can find someone else to do her job, and have a ton of
women who would chop off their own leg to spend one night with me. So guess what Delilah? You
can suck my big fat cock!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

More Nick…

I walk into Club M on Saturday completely set on hooking up with someone, get out my

frustrations, and get over Delilah. My mask tonight is a navy blue and very simple. I also decided to
go for a more casual feel, with a nice blue and white striped button down and dark blue jeans. I see
Calvin as I walk in and give him a nod. He raises a hand in greeting before going back to typing on
his messenger. I head straight to the bar and grab my usual. I scan the crowd as I sip my drink. There
are a couple of possibilities for me tonight. My gaze lands on a fiery red head down the bar. Hmm, I
haven’t had a red head in a while. She is wearing a gold mask to match her outfit, which consists of
black leather looking leggings and a metallic gold shirt that has no back to it other than one thin strap
holding it together.

I get the bartender to get me her number, and then the flirting begins. I do my usual “I can see you

but you can’t see me” spiel to determine if I want it to go any further. She seems receptive and
curious. No witty banter like you know who, but that’s not what I am looking for tonight. I just need a
wham bam thank you ma’am. So, I reveal myself and ask her to dance. She was an okay dancer,
nothing special, not like Delilah. Fuck! Stop thinking about her!

Anyway, after a few dances, I suggest going up to my VIP room. Red Apple #331 – her God-

awful nickname – agrees. I take her hand and lead her up to my VIP room. As soon as I walk into the
room, I’m slammed with memories of LaLa – Delilah – damn it! First off, Let’s Get It On is playing.
The same song that was playing the first time I brought Delilah here. I’m going to have to talk to
Calvin about his song selection. Secondly, the room actually smells like her. Did I not change the
sheets the last time we were here? Maybe it’s just in my head.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t even notice that Big Red - the name I dub her - has

turned around in front of me. She grabs my face and kisses me. Well, it’s more like she’s trying to eat
my face. Her hands are all over me, trying to rip me out of my clothes. Jesus Christ, I brought a wild
animal to my room! I tear my mouth away from hers but she latches onto my neck instead. Nothing she
is doing is in any way pleasurable. If I’m going to be honest, it’s downright turning me off. What was
I thinking bringing another woman up here? To a room that has become more than just a place for me
to screw a bunch of different women. It’s become our room - LaLa’s and mine - together. Goddamnit!
I try pushing at the crazed woman who is now trying to get her hands down my pants, but she doesn’t
seem to want to budge.

“For fuck’s sake! Just stop!” I shout and tear her hands off me and take a few steps back from her.

“What the hell? I thought we’re not supposed to talk?” she snips.

“Yeah, well, you obviously don’t know how to take a hint when I’m trying to push you back,” I

snap in return.

“Because I thought the whole point of coming up here was to fuck. So why would you be pushing

me away?” She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“I’ve changed my mind, alright? Can you just leave?” I sigh and drop down to the edge of the

bed.

“Are you for real?” Red snaps angrily.

I bring my eyes up to meet hers; I know how they look, too - cold and hard. Big Red shrinks back

slightly.

“I swear, if you make me get up to throw you out, you are not going to like it,” I growl.

Lucky for her, she sees how serious I am and races out. I drop my head into my hands and groan.

This is so stupid. What the hell has gotten into me? I should have been able to bang that chick, no
problem. Damn Delilah, it’s all her fault. She’s ruined all other women for me.

“You know, I’ve heard of one minute men, but I’ve never actually met one before,” A sarcastic

voice says from the doorway, making my head fly up to see who it is.

A blonde woman walks in, her mask a vibrant purple. She looks seriously familiar but I just can’t

place her. She shuts and locks the door behind her. I straighten up, not knowing what she wants. She
starts toward me in a very purposeful manner. There is nothing sexual about it, but she definitely
looks like she is on a mission. She stops a few feet in front of me and pulls her mask off. I suck in a
sharp breath. Aw, shit! I’m in so much trouble!

“Hello, Nick,” purrs Delilah’s best friend, Charlie, with a very hard “n” and “k.”

I gape at her for a moment before I can even think of anything to say. “Wha…how did you get in

here?” I ask, taking my mask off since she knows who I am.

“Please, I just followed you up and waited for the Red Baron to leave,” Charlie snorted.

“Nothing happened with her, I swear!” I exclaim, standing up and taking a step in her direction.

“Mmm hmm, that’s why her lipstick is all over your mouth and neck,” Charlie says dryly, picking

at her fingernails.

“I…no…wait! She attacked me!” I stammer and scrub my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt.

Charlie gives me a bored look. “Look, Romeo, I don’t really give a shit about your sex life. What

I do give a shit about, is that your hurt my best friend,” she says as she resolutely walks toward me.

I back up as she advances on me. The backs of my knees hit the bed and I’m forced to sit. Charlie

stops in front of me and pokes me hard in the chest.

“I don’t like when guys like you think they can walk all over my friend and get away with it,”

Charlie growls.

“Charlie, I…” I start, but she cuts me off.

“Shut up, Nick. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Do you have any idea what Delilah has been

doing this past week? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! She’s been holed up in her bedroom, curled up in
a ball in her bed. I had to go in there, physically drag her out, and force her to shower and eat
something. I’ve never, in all of our years of friendship, seen her like that.”

I stare at Charlie in shock. She has to be lying. There is no way my strong, independent, happy,

self-assured Delilah has locked herself away in her room because of something I did. I start to shake
my head in disbelief.

“You’re lying,” I rasp.

“No, I’m not,” Charlie states and paces away from me. “I wish I were,” she whispers.

I hang my head. “I’m such an ass.”

Charlie barks out a laugh and swings back around to face me. “At least you can admit it!”

“I seriously never meant to hurt her.” I frown.

Charlie sighs heavily. “Sadly, I actually believe you.” She sits down on the bed next to me. “Why

didn’t you just tell her that you knew?”

“I don’t know! I was confused and just plain stupid. I didn’t think it would hurt her this badly.”

“Do you even know why she is so hurt?” Charlie asks softly.

I glance over at her, feeling like an idiot. “No,” I say truthfully. “She said I betrayed her trust, but

I don’t know what I did that betrayed her trust.”

“Nick, you sat there and let her pour her heart out to you about a guy she was seeing, knowing the

whole time that she was talking about you. You let her say those things because you wanted to know
what she thought. That was wrong, Nick. That’s what she considered a betrayal. Plus, on top of that,
you distanced yourself from her - both at work and as Nico - without any explanation. That made her
think that she did something wrong or wasn’t good enough for you.”

I groan and drop my head into my hands again. Charlie pats me on the back.

“Don’t worry, most guys are just as dumb as you are.” She snickers.

“Thanks a lot. What am I supposed to do now?” I ask, hoping she knows the secret to attain

absolution.

“Grovel until your knees bleed,” Charlie says as she stands and starts for the door. “Oh, and

make it quick. She has a job interview on Monday,” she says before sending me a wink and walking
out the door.

That chick is a character, but a great friend to Delilah all the same. I really need to set her up

with Calvin, he would get a kick out of her. But she’s right. I need to apologize to Delilah and try to
make things right between us. I miss her and I want her. I really don’t want to be with any other
woman. She’s all that I can think about and that has to mean something, right?

Chapter Eleven

Delilah

Weekends usually fly by, but this one is dragging on forever. After Charlie finally left Thursday

night, I crawled back into bed, letting myself mope some more. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Well, I do, but that’s not what I mean. I was with Ryan for what felt like a lifetime, but it took me
less than a week to get over his betrayal. But, now, with Nick, I don’t know what my problem is. I
have only known him for a few months, and we never even really dated, but his betrayal feels so
much worse.

Last night might have been rock bottom for me. Saturday night. Our night. I got all dolled up. Did

my hair and make-up, and even slipped into some new red lace lingerie I bought during my shopping
spree a few weeks ago. I was going to go to Club M to see Nick, er, Nico. Oh, let’s face it, I was
going there to spy on him. I thought that if I could just see him interacting with another woman -
flirting, dancing, and bringing her up to his VIP room - then maybe I would get completely disgusted
by him, and work him out of my system. However, Charlie called last minute and said she couldn’t
go, and there was no way I could be a secret agent without my lead detective, so I chickened out.
Nothing new with that story.

So I kept to my usual routine of ice cream and TV, but I changed it up from the rocky road and

reality shows. A step in the right direction, I told myself. Mint chocolate chip and Lifetime movies.
Okay, maybe it was a step, but not so much the right direction. I cried through Steel Magnolias,
especially during the deaths – shocker! - and threw my spoon at the TV during Notting Hill, when
Julia Roberts’ character talks shit about Hugh Grant. What a bitch! I need to get out of this house and
get a life. How can I let a man affect me like this?

So, now Sunday is finally here. I wake up at the crack of dawn with a spring in my step. New

day. New week. And tomorrow I interview for a new job. No more pity party for me.

I spend the next few hours cleaning my apartment because I really let it go over the past week. I

eat a nutritious breakfast, also something I have not done in a week, and make a plan for my day. I
shower, pop in my contacts, dress in a brand spanking new outfit that makes me feel good, blow out
my hair, and put on some mascara and lip gloss. All this before 8:00 am! New day. New week. New
me. Sayonara, frump girl!

I sit down at my kitchen counter to make a food-shopping list. Something I have been completely

remiss about. That will at least ensure my eating habits improve. I pick up the phone to call Charlie,
wanting her to come over later to help me pick out my interview outfit again, but realize it is way too
early. I gather my cell phone, keys, and purse, then head to the door for my food shopping adventure.
Just as I approach the door, I hear a knock.

I stare at the door for a minute wondering who the heck would be knocking on my door before

9:00 am on a Sunday morning. I look down at my cell to see if I missed a call, but nothing. Who
would it be? Charlie is without a doubt still sleeping. My dad went to visit his brother in Florida for
a few weeks to try to escape his reality. Carmella? No, she would definitely call first. My attention
is brought back to focus when there is a second knock.

“Coming!” I yell to the unknown visitor. “Keep your pants on,” I grumble under my breath.

I unlock the two locks, and unlatch the deadbolt, but I leave the chain hooked. I open the door

about four inches, which is all the chain allows, and peek out. I breathe in sharply, gasping in shock!
Nick. He is rubbing his hand roughly against his jaw, but is as beautiful as ever, nonetheless. I stare
wordless for a few seconds, and realize he looks… tired. Like he has not slept in a week. Ha!
Welcome to my world. I am stunned to see him, and secretly pleased that he looks like he is
miserable. I spend about two point five seconds feeling bad for him, then my anger returns and rears
its ugly head. I straighten my back and look him dead in the eye, remembering how awesome I look
this morning.

“What do you want? “ I snarl.

“Hey there, Delilah…” He sighs with a shy smile.

“What? Don’t ‘Hey there, Delilah’ me. Go home, Nick,” I say resolutely.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he gripes.

“Seriously. I am on my way out. I don’t have time for your bullshit, Nick,” I say rudely, trying to

get him to take the hint and go away. I keep repeating his name to remind myself what he did. It helps
to keep me strong. I will not allow him to walk all over me again.

“Please, LaLa. Let me in,” he implores, but his using my nickname like that just reignites my fury.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you dare think pulling out my nickname will lessen the

damage you’ve done,” I hiss.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Please, Delilah. I don’t want your neighbors hearing our business. Let

me in, please,” he nags.

He is probably right, but I don’t want to give him that satisfaction. “Fine, but not because you

want me to. I’ll let you in, but only to spare my neighbors from your ridiculous drivel so early on a
Sunday morning,” I say.

“I’ll take what I can get, Doll,” he replies, and for a brief moment, the butterflies are in my

stomach. I used to love it when Nico called me “Doll.” Asshole! He knows what he is doing.

I take a step back and close the door. I take a deep breath, and do a quick hair, teeth, and face

check in the hall mirror, before I unchain the door. Thank God, I look damn good today! I open it
slowly, and extend my arm, giving him permission to enter. I try to keep my expression completely
impassive, even though my head wants to punch him in the face, and my heart wants to jump on him
and kiss him to death.

He walks past me and takes a seat on my couch. The couch. The one that he kissed me on the last

time he was in my apartment. Just after my mother died. Shit! Don’t go there. No tears, no tears, no
tears. Don’t you dare cry in front of him, I yell at myself. He looks over at me and I know he can tell
that I am struggling. I walk toward him and he pats the seat next to him on the couch, but I continue to
walk past him. Just as I get a few feet past, I hear him inhale. Men are so easy. Never underestimate
the power of a good smelling lotion.

I take a seat in my favorite leopard print wingback chair, perpendicular to the couch, to his right -

my power chair. He looks at me through squinted eyes, clearly deciding on what to say. He has to

know by now that I am two sheets shy of losing it.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I am at a loss for words. That really never happens to me. I make a living out of being able to

talk people in and out of doing things. Yet, I have no idea what to say to Delilah. I am out of my
depth, out of my league, and way out of my comfort zone. I have never chased a woman, never
thought twice about her feelings, and certainly never showed up at her apartment, ready to beg for
forgiveness. But, here I am, ready to do all three. I never thought a woman like this existed. She is the
perfect woman, inside and out. My woman. My Delilah.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I ask, treading lightly.

“Like what? How am I looking at you?” she asks, not backing down. I know she is pissed as hell

at me, but I am finding her obstinence sexy as shit.

“Come on, Delilah. It’s just you and me here. Stop this.”

Well, that certainly was the wrong thing to say. Delilah suddenly shot out of her chair and

approached me like a tiger going in for the kill.

With her left hand on her hip, and her right pointer finger inches from my face, she laid into me.

“Are you seriously this self involved, that you can’t see that what you did was an utter betrayal? That
once you knew for a fact who I was, you continued to use that knowledge to extract information that
wasn’t yours to hear?”

She berates me for a few more minutes, and I just sit here in stunned silence. On one hand, I am

proud of her for standing up to me - completely turned on, even; on the other hand, I realize now that I
am in a lot deeper shit than I originally thought.

This is why I don’t do relationships. They are so much goddamned work! If this were any other

woman, my ass would have been out that door a long time ago. What am I saying? If this were any
other woman, I would have never come here. And I most definitely would not be here to apologize.
Make up sex? Maybe. Apologize? Fuck no!

She sits back down in her wingback chair in a huff. I take a moment to formulate my thoughts,

knowing I may only get one shot at this. I scrub my hand across my overgrown beard and take a deep
breath. I grab my balls, as Calvin so instructed, and turn to face her. Devastation. I am looking in the
eyes of pure, unadulterated desolation. And I caused it. As much as I want to think that she should
have known, that she could have figured it out before me, to place the blame on her, I know it’s time
to take responsibility for my actions. I fucked up. The question is, how do I fix it?

I scoot to the end of the couch closest to her chair and lean toward her. I need to gain her trust

back somehow. She meets my eyes, and my heart twists. Her beautiful hazel eyes are glossy, tears
ready to fall. It was so much easier when she was just my secretary. This is exactly why I never let it
get personal in the past.

“Please don’t cry, Delilah. It hurts my heart,” I say honestly. Maybe if I show my vulnerability to

her, I can break through her anger.

“You took advantage of my affection for Nico, and manipulated me into telling you my most

personal thoughts and feelings,” she says softly and breaks eye contact.

I move in closer and move my hands toward her face slowly, so as not to startle her. I hold her

face under her chin and force her to look at me. “I know. You’re right. I was the biggest asshole. You
will never know how truly sorry I am.”

“Sorry for what? That you got caught?” she asks, not so subtly pointing me in the direction I need

to go.

“Of course, not. I am sorry that I hurt you, Doll. You have become so important to me. I would

never intentionally hurt you,” I reassure her. “You must know by now, through all of our texts, and all
of the things that I shared with you - physically and emotionally - that I care deeply about you.”

“My heart wants to believe you, Nick. But my head. Man, it doesn’t stop,” she admits, placing

one hand over her heart, the other squeezing the bridge of her nose. I take this as some kind of
progress. Obviously, she still has feelings for me, or her heart wouldn’t be open to the idea of
forgiveness.

“This could easily have just been a one night stand. But that night, that glorious night. What we

shared. I had to have more of you. You have to know. To understand that ...” I trail off, lost in
thought. I don’t think I am getting my point across clearly.

“What does that mean, Nick? What are you trying to say?” she asks, understandably confused, as

I am completely baffled myself. I am at a total loss having never been in this situation before, and I
don’t think I’m doing a very good job digging myself out of the hole that I created.

I grab her hands, pull them to my lips, and kiss them softly. I look into her tear stained,

hypnotizing, hazel eyes, and see that my time – and her patience - is running out. So I lay it all out on
the table. “Delilah, everything I have said to you this morning has been straight from my heart, no bull
shit. I am not used to this. Not used to begging for forgiveness, or admitting my faults. And clearly, I
suck at it. But please, Doll, I need you to know that everything that we did together, all of the time
that we shared together, and all the personal sh.. – stuff – we discussed, that was all me. All Nick.
And it was all real.” I start rubbing my jaw, completely anxious and uncomfortable with what I just
divulged.

She stares at me for a few seconds, and I give her that time to soak in my guts that I just spilled to

her. I know she is angry with me, but I pray that at least some of that got through to her. She removes
her hands from mine, stands up, and just as I am about to give up hope, she moves to the couch, taking
a seat next to me.

She cocks her head to the side and just looks at me, obviously still processing our conversation.

What is she thinking? I need to know my fate. “What is it exactly that you want from me, Nick?” she
asks suspiciously. Hell yeah, I am in!

“Can you give me a chance to make it up to you? To prove that you can trust me again?” I beg.

Yes, this is me, Nick Santino - high powered, always in control, non-committing, (former) ladies’
man - now officially begging for a woman’s attention.

“And how do you plan to do that?” she asks apprehensively.

“Maybe we can start over? I know I can regain your trust if you just give me a chance. I’ve

learned my lesson…I promise!” I bolster.

“And what exactly are we starting over, Nick? Spell it out. I don’t want any more

miscommunication going on between us,” she states firmly, but I know I am wearing her down. Her

body seems to have relaxed some, and her face has softened.

“I think we should start dating,” I say as a matter of fact.

She chuckles and I can’t help but smile. Best sound that I have heard all week. Damn, I’ve

missed that!

“For real? Like date date? Like go out in public, dinner and movie, stroll in the park dating? Not

secret Club Masquerade Saturday night meetings?”

“Well, we can do that, too.” I say with a smirk. “But in all seriousness, yes, Delilah. I want us to

‘date date.’ Like dinner and movie, long drives to the beach, strolling hand-in-hand in the park,
catching a show on Broadway, hanging with each other’s friends kind of dating.”

“You want me to meet your friends?”

I am thoroughly puzzled by her question because all of my exes, including ones I didn’t even date

regularly, expected to meet my friends. But I never wanted that, so I never did. Now with Delilah, I
want to show her off, and she questions it?

“Of course! That’s what couples do while they are dating. I have already met Charlie, and you

have met Calvin. We can all hang out together. Or I can introduce you to some of my other buddies.
Wouldn’t you want that?” I ask, bewildered.

“I don’t know,” she answers softly and looks away. She pulls on her shirt, trying to stretch it out,

and looks uncomfortable all of a sudden.

I once again reach for her chin and angle her face so that she has to meet my eyes. “What do you

mean, ‘I don’t know’? That’s an odd response. What’s the matter? Don’t clam up on me now, Doll.
And stop looking away from me. I hate when you hide your gorgeous eyes.”

“Look at me, Nick!” she shouts. “I may look put together right now, but today happens to be an

exception to my usual. You know that I rarely have my hair done, I almost never wear make-up, and
live in my glasses. And most days, you will find me in a baggy Grateful Dead t-shirt and jeans or
yoga pants. And my work clothes don’t fit me properly, either. I mean, I went shopping with Charlie
and bought a butt load off new stuff, but still…” she rambles.

“Still what? Now it’s your turn to say what you mean. No miscommunication, remember?” I say

unruffled, reminding her of what she demanded of me earlier.

“Your friends? They are never going to believe that we are dating. They are never going to

believe that you are interested in someone like me. I’ve seen what you go for, remember? I am so not
that! Are you prepared to accept me for all this?” She stands and waves her hand dismissively in front
of her whole body. Then sits again but looks past me, defeat in her eyes.

At first I think she is taking a dig at my friends, or maybe me even. That we are superficial and

judgmental. But then it dawns on me. She has got to be kidding! Her self-deprecation once again
ignites my anger, but I try my damnedest to stay calm.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Nick eyes me thoughtfully for a minute and shifts in his seat. He looks uncomfortable. I look into

his emerald green eyes, and they seem to have smoked over, hardened almost. Is he pissed? What the
hell can he possibly be angry at?

“Delilah, you fail to remember that I have seen you at your best. And worst,” he says patiently.

He just doesn’t get it. When you are born gorgeous, you don’t know what it’s like being average.

And, Nick, he is definitely not average. My guess is that he was on line that day God was handing out
sexy….and brains… and charm. Shit! He is perfect.

“You just don’t get it, Nick. I can’t compete. You are every woman’s dream. And I’m…I’m…

Frump girl!” I exclaim.

“Sounds like you just declared yourself a new superhero. Maybe we should write our own

comic book together. Maybe on our first date?” He slips in. I know he is trying to make light of my
proclamation, and I try my hardest to hold back a smile, but I fail.

“Ha ha, very funny. But, no. No date. Unless you are George Clooney and are going to put on

your Batman costume?” I add sarcastically.

“For you, I would don a cape and black tights. I even have a few masks I could wear,” he says

cheekily.

“Whoa! Slow down, Batman – or is it Dateman?”

“Oh! That’s it… we can call it The Adventures of Frump girl and her trusted partner,

Dateman!” His eyebrows wiggle as he is saying this and I can’t help but laugh at his corniness.

“As much fun as that sounds, your title has one issue: Trust,” I say, bringing us both back to

reality, “and I am not sure if I can trust you again.”

Nick hangs his head and his shoulders slump. He takes a deep breath – in and out – and then

confident Nick is back. “Please, Doll. I know what I did was bad. Awful. Outrageous, even. I was
the biggest asshole. But, please, you have to know that I will never do it again. I would never
intentionally try to hurt you. You have to believe me,” he says sincerely.

“I want to believe you, Nick. Part of me is screaming to. But, then there is the other part. The one

that only months ago was betrayed by someone who was supposed to love and protect me. Someone
who promised to never hurt me. If Ryan can do that to me…” I trail off, my eyes beginning to well.

“But I am not him! Remember what Nico told LaLa? I may be a lot of things, but I am not a

cheater,” he says soundly, but my tears start to flow anyway.

Nick sidles up close to me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me in tight. He dips his head

down and whispers comforting words in my ear. Although I feel safe and want to stay wrapped in his
arms forever, I pull away slowly. His hands appear by my face out of nowhere, and he cups it, gently
wiping away my tears, using his thumbs. I must look like a freaking raccoon with mascara running
down my face. I hold onto his wrists, close my eyes, and lean my forehead against his.

“You are right, you are not him. After everything Ryan did, and after everything we shared, I

haven’t heard one word from him since that dreaded day. But here you are. Less than a week later,

and you show up apologizing. Trying to make things right. Making sure that I am okay. That
definitely earned you a gold star,” I say softly.

“But I pissed you off,” he says quietly, keeping his forehead against mine.

“You did,” I answer just as quiet.

“And I hurt you,” he adds.

“You did,” I agree.

“And broke your trust,” he continues.

“That, too.”

“What else? Tell me everything,” he questions.

I take a deep breath. “You disappointed me,” I say as the breath leaves my lungs.

“Aw, shit, Delilah! I am so sorry,” he says truly distressed.

I open my eyes and realize that he has been watching me this whole time. Our foreheads are no

longer touching, but we are still inches apart, eye-to-eye. I am lost in his emerald beauties, but not so
lost that I don’t realize that his breathing has picked up – and so has mine. I know that he is not going
to make a move, being that he is already in the doghouse, so I make the decision for both of us and
lean in for a kiss.

I brush my lips lightly against his, and then pull back, not wanting to cross any lines. I look into

his eyes again, and they are completely hooded. His hands are still cupping my face, mine still
wrapped around his wrists. He hasn’t moved a muscle. Well, I am pretty sure that muscle has moved,
hardened even, but other than that, he is frozen in place. I lean in slowly again and take a little nibble
of his bottom lip. He sucks in a sharp breath, but still doesn’t move. I pull back again, and take a
quick peek at his pants, thrilled that I can affect him so much.

“I think maybe you should get going. I still have to go food shopping and run a few errands,” I say

a little out of breath. I desperately want him to make love to me, but he is going to have to earn it this
time around.

“Okay, no problem, I understand,” he says a little pained, as he adjusts himself. Jeans must be

killer with a hard on.

We both stand up and head to the door. “How ‘bout that date? Dinner Wednesday?” he asks

confidently.

I smile at his brazenness. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Nick laughs and shakes his head. “How long you know me, Delilah? Have I ever not gotten what

I wanted?”

“You make a strong argument, Counselor,” I respond in my best judge-like voice.

“And what’s the verdict, your Honor?” he asks, playing along with my silliness.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” I answer with a smirk and one eyebrow raised.

Nick chuckles and adds that he can live with that. He is out the door and I follow, leaning against

the doorframe. He is waiting by the elevator and we are just staring at each other, the air thick with
chemistry. The elevator doors open and as he steps in, throwing over his shoulder, “See you at work
in the morning. Don’t be late!”

The elevator doors close before I can get another word in. Bastard! I head back into my

apartment and call Charlie to come over. I don’t care if I wake her lazy ass up. Then I clean all of the
ruined make-up off my face, remove my contacts, and take a shower – a very cold one!

Chapter Twelve

Delilah

“I need help,” I say as I flop onto my couch next to Charlie.

It’s Sunday afternoon. Nick was here this morning, doing his best to apologize. He did a pretty

good job for it being his first time apologizing to a woman for screwing up. Now that I know so much
about his past, I can see why he’s so afraid of relationships and love, and really, I can’t blame him. I
would probably be the same way if one of my parents just up and left without a word. How could a
mother do that to her ten-year-old son?

“With what?” Charlie asks.

“What should I do about Nick? He apologized this morning, and I think he expects me to come

back to work tomorrow. I just don’t know if I should believe him or not. I can’t understand what he
sees in me.” I sigh.

“You’re kidding right?” Charlie replies dryly, frowning at me.

“What? You’ve seen Nick. He doesn’t go after girls like me, he dates supermodels,” I tell her.

“Ya know, this whole ‘I’m not good enough’ act has to stop. God, Delilah, look at yourself in the

mirror for once! You are gorgeous - inside and out! You are intelligent, witty, and sharp, coupled
with that beautiful face, those boobs, and the rest of your banging body. You are the perfect woman!
What you need to be thinking is if Nick is good enough for you,” Charlie says heatedly.

I blush crimson at all of Charlie’s major compliments. I guess I have been so stuck on all of those

horrible things said to me back in high school, that I’ve never taken notice of the worthy woman I’ve
become. I don’t think anyone realizes how damaging mean words can be, or how long the effects last.
I’m twenty-eight, soon to be twenty-nine, and I’m still struggling with what was drilled into my head
as a teenager.

“Do you think I should give Nick another chance?” I ask Charlie quietly.

Charlie nods. “I think he really does have strong feelings for you and is trying to better himself

for you. So yeah, give him another shot. If he screws up again, though, boot his ass to the curb,”
Charlie says with a sly smile.

I chuckle. “Okay, I guess that’s fair. I better call tomorrow morning and cancel that interview

then.”

“Yeah, that would be a good idea,” Charlie agrees.

I sigh. “I hope you’re right about this.”

“Hey! I’m always right,” Charlie says confidently

We giggle and hang out the rest of the day. Charlie helps me pick out one of my newer outfits to

wear into work tomorrow, something that will knock Nick’s socks off. And since I haven’t agreed to
go out on a date with him, Charlie thinks it will be fun to tease the ever-living hell out of him. We’re
going for the naughty teacher look. I also bought an updated, more stylish, pair of glasses. I hate
wearing contacts all of the time, so I bought a new pair of black rectangular-ish frames for everyday

wear. Oh yeah, Nick’s going to have a conniption when he sees me tomorrow.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

More Delilah…

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I squawk, eyes wide as saucers as I look around.

Nick winces from where he is seated behind his desk. I am standing in the doorway to his office,

holding his coffee in one hand, mine in the other, with my purse hanging from the crook of my arm.
His office looks like a bomb went off in it. There are papers everywhere! And what is that? It looks
like he threw a cup of coffee at the window next to the door, and there is a fucking hole in the wall
behind his desk.

“What the hell happened in here?” I demand, turning my gaze back to Nick.

He smiles sheepishly. “A very childish thirty-three year old?”

“I have only been gone a week!” I say shrilly, making him wince again.

“I’m sorry. I kinda lost my cool at one point,” Nick says helplessly.

“Do you have any idea how long this is going to take me to straighten out?”

“I’ll help, I swear. You know, you look stunning this morning,” Nick says with a hopeful smile.

I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t even think for one second that complimenting

me is going to help you,” I growl low.

Nick’s eyes widen slightly. “Okay.” He breathes.

“Let me go put my purse down. I’ll be back,” I snarl and stomp over to my desk.

I put both coffees on my desk then shove my purse into my bottom drawer. I cannot believe that

this is what I came back to. No wonder he wanted me to come back so badly, he can’t even function
on his own. I can’t imagine what his house looks like. Scratch that – he probably has a maid to clean
up after him. Oh God, what did I get myself into? Maybe I should run, let him take care of that
nightmare himself. I glance back to find him standing in his office doorway. I am startled and yelp.

“Jesus, Nick, you scared me,” I say.

“Sorry, I just want to give you this,” he says with a sweet smile and holds out a square box.

I frown at it. “What is it?” I ask as I take it from him. It’s not overly heavy, but it does have some

weight to it.

Nick just smiles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Open it.”

I open the box, inside is another Styrofoam box. I pull that out, setting the other box aside. It must

be some kind of figurine or something to be wrapped in Styrofoam like this. The box is taped
together, so I break the tape and pull one-half of the Styrofoam off, revealing the prize inside. I gasp,
covering my mouth with one hand. I look up at Nick, a bit teary eyed – damn him – before looking
back down at my present.

“Where on earth did you find this?” I sniff, gently lifting the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen

out of the other half of the Styrofoam.

“I have a friend who’s an artist. He made it for me, so it’s one of a kind, just like you,” Nick

replies softly.

I roll my eyes at him and brush away the tears that start to fall. “Why did you do this?”

“Consider it a peace offering,” Nick murmurs, “I’ll give you a minute alone.”

Nick steps toward me, leans down, and engulfs me into an innocent, wonderful hug. He then

turns and goes into his office, shutting the door behind him. I stare down at his “peace offering.” It’s
beautiful. It’s a Grateful Dead dancing bear figurine that is about eight inches high and is painted to
match my tattoo. It has a black base with “In Loving Memory of Holly” – my mom - painted elegantly
on it in white. I guess I can forget about bringing Nick to his knees with my outfit, because he just
brought me to mine with this incredible gift.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I lean against the doorframe to my office, arms crossed over my chest. I left for a quick snack

break, and when I come back, I am treated to a spectacular view of Delilah’s luscious ass as she
bends over the front of my desk. One hip is cocked up as she rests her chin in her palm, while she
writes some notes on a legal pad. Her outfit today is so freaking sexy that I’ve been having the hardest
time keeping my hands off her. She is wearing a high-waisted black pencil skirt that has a naughty slit
up the back. Her short-sleeved blouse that is tucked into her skirt is a shiny satin material and is a
dark purple. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a loose bun, black pumps accentuate her
lovely legs, and she has new stylish glasses. The whole ensemble makes her look like a sexy teacher,
every grade school boy’s wet dream.

Now, if she would have agreed to date me, I would go over there right now, grab her hips, and

press my ever growing erection right up against that ass. But, she didn’t, so I can only admire her
from afar. I might go insane with lust and my balls will probably turn blue.

“Hey there, Delilah,” I rumble.

Delilah glances over her shoulder, chin still on her palm. “Quit ogling my ass and get back to

work,” she says, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Ogle your ass? Me? Never,” I say, shaking my head.

She gives me a bored look before turning back around. I make my way around my desk and sit in

my chair. I am now face to…well…breasts. I can see right down Delilah’s blouse and - Holy Mother
of God - she’s wearing a red lace bra. I groan out loud. She glances up with just her eyes, making
them peek over the top of her glasses. Sonofabitch!

“Problem?” she asks innocently. Is she really clueless or is she fucking with me?

I rub my hand over my jaw roughly. “Nope,” I reply.

Her lips purse slightly as she looks at me thoughtfully before going back to writing her notes. I

think she’s making a list of all of the reasons she shouldn’t go out with me. She is very displeased
with me with how bad I let my office get and how screwed up all of the files are. I wouldn’t be
surprised if that’s what she was actually doing. My eyes are once again drawn to her cleavage and the
peek of red lace.

“Do I need to file a sexual harassment report against you?” Delilah asks, glancing over the top of

her glasses again at me, catching me staring at her tits.

“I…wha…how…” I stutter, blinking at her.

“Men are so stupid sometimes,” she murmurs almost to herself as she straightens up. “Do you

really think I can’t feel you leering at my chest?”

I gasp. “I wasn’t leering!”

The corner of Delilah’s mouth kicks up. She puts her hands on her hips. “What would you call it

then?”

I grin rakishly. “Admiration.”

Delilah snorts and shakes her head at me. “You’re incorrigible.”

I shrug unrepentantly.

We work on getting my office straightened up for the next two days. By Wednesday, I am

becoming desperate to get Delilah back into my arms again, but she is still refusing to go on a date
with me. We’ve been working so closely together, and with her scent constantly assaulting my nose, I
am in a perpetual state of arousal. I’ve jerked off more times in the past two days than I have in the
past two months all together.

By Friday, I’m cranky and irritable. Her new sexy business style is driving me up a wall and has

even reduced me to rubbing one out in the personal bathroom in my office. Delilah went out to get us
something for lunch, and I am sitting here brooding and stewing, trying to think of how I can get her to
agree to go out with me.

She returns with a bag of food and walks right into my office, setting it on my desk. I sit there

staring at her instead of going for the food. Delilah looks at me; her eyes turn wary as she takes notice
of my mood.

“Are you okay?” she asks cautiously.

“Yeah, fine, I’m just planning out our date tomorrow. I am thinking we should go to the zoo, then

maybe the Bronx Burger House on the way home,” I say as uneventful as possible. Forget getting her
to agree, I’m just going to demand it.

Delilah gives me a bewildered look. “What are you talking about? I never agreed to go out with

you.”

“My favorite part of the zoo is the tigers; I love the tigers, so we will definitely have to stop by

them…” I ramble ignoring her denial. I don’t even bother looking at her; I just start straightening up
the papers on my desk, making room for my lunch.

“I’m not going out with you,” Delilah huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“…We need to get there early; I’m thinking 11:00 am…”

“No.”

“…So, I’ll pick you up at 10:00 am,” I say, finally lifting my eyes to look at her

She is standing there, hands on her hips, a defiant look on her pretty face. She looks gorgeous all

befuddled and irritated. “I am not going to the zoo with you,” she repeats firmly.

“Yes you are,” I reply flippantly, although I challenge her with my eyes.

Her eyes flash, but I can’t tell if it is with anger or excitement. She stares at me for a moment

before turning and walking out of my office, slamming the door shut behind her. I grin. I so have her.
She will be mine once again and I won’t take no for an answer.

At the end of the day, I head out of my office to walk with Delilah out of the office. She doesn’t

say a word. She really hasn’t said much to me since lunch, which I find very amusing. We get into the
elevator together and wait for the doors to close. I turn toward her, leaning my shoulder against the
wall. I reach over and brush her silky hair over her shoulder.

“Delilah, I miss you, you know,” I murmur softly and lean in toward her. God, I want to feel her

body against mine so badly!

Delilah stiffens and glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “We see each other every day.

You can’t miss me,” she says quietly.

I sigh. “You know what I mean. I miss being with you, talking to you about things other than

work. I miss the way you would smile at me when you first caught sight of me in the club every
Saturday.”

Delilah turns her head to look at me, her eyebrows drawn down, mouth in a frown. Her eyes

search mine for a moment. “If I agree to date you, I have conditions,” she says seriously.

My heart flutters madly in my chest. She still wants me! Yes! “Anything, Doll,” I reply evenly,

trying not to let too much of my excitement show.

“Number one, this will be an exclusive relationship, no other women,” she says.

“I don’t want anyone else, only you, so I agree.” I nod.

“No more Club M. Nico is officially dead,” she says, watching me carefully.

“I’ll call Calvin and tell him to give my VIP room to someone else,” I agree.

“We have to go out on a date at least once a week.”

“Deal.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then I will go with you to the zoo tomorrow,” Delilah says lightly.

“As long as we’re making rules, I have one that I’d like to add,” I say.

Delilah raises an eyebrow in question and waits

I lean in close to her face and whisper, “All of your orgasms are mine. I am the only one who is

allowed to make you come; no touching yourself while I’m not around.”

Delilah blushes but her eyes never leave mine. “Okay, fine,” she says breathily just as the

elevator doors open.

I give her a quick, hard kiss on the lips and exit the elevator. “See you in the morning, Doll!” I

call and start for my car before she can change her mind.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

What was I thinking agreeing to go out with Nick? I must be out of my mind. If he ends up hurting

me, it’ll be my own damn fault. I pull on a pair of tight jeans and a gray baby-doll t-shirt. I put on my
sneakers since we’re going to be doing a lot of walking today at the zoo. I wonder what made Nick
choose the zoo? It’s different for a first date, that’s for sure. Ryan and I never even went to the zoo
while we were together. I asked him a few times to go, but Ryan said that he didn’t want to smell
animal shit all day.

Ten o’clock sharp, there is a knock on my apartment door. I take a look at myself in the full length

mirror. Contacts-check, hair-check, makeup-check, boobs look perky-check, ass looks tight-check,
nothing in teeth-check, and lastly, the breath check. I cup my hand in front of my mouth and nose and
blow, and then take a whiff - smells minty from my toothpaste - perfect. Another knock sounds as I’m
walking through my living room toward the door.

“Coming!” I call.

I unlock and open the door to reveal the most stunningly handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Nick Santino is standing in my doorway with a Starbucks holder with two cups in it in one hand and a
bag in the other. He smiles brightly.

“Hey there, Delilah,” he says as usual.

“Good morning,” I say with a soft smile and step aside to let him in.

Nick walks in and I take the opportunity to look him over. He’s in worn jeans and a plain white

fitted v-neck t-shirt, and damn does he look good. Those jeans hug his ass to perfection. And his t-
shirt shows off his broad shoulders, wide muscled chest, and chiseled abs. It’s not fair, no man
should ever look this good clothed.

“I brought you a coffee and a slice of banana nut bread. I didn’t know if you had eaten yet,” he

said sweetly, handing me the bag.

I smiled. “Thank you, Nick.”

He gives me a wink then sets the coffee holder down on the counter in the kitchen so that he can

safely extract one of the cups. I walk over to join him and he hands me my coffee. I give him a grateful
smile and take a sip.

“How did you know that I like banana nut bread?” I ask curiously. I don’t recall ever telling him

that.

“I’ve seen you eating it at your desk a time or two,” he answers with a shrug.

“I didn’t think you paid attention to such minor things,” I say softly.

Nick just watches me, his face neutral. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“I pay attention to more than you realize,” he says, his voice low.

After I eat my banana nut bread, we head out the door. In the parking garage, Nick leads me to an

open air Jeep. Sweet! It’s black and the top and doors are off. I can’t help but smile. I’ve always
wanted to drive in one. We hop in and buckle up. Nick slides on a pair of aviator sunglasses, which
make him look even sexier, if that’s possible. I put my own sunglasses on, but I in no way look as

cool as he does. It’s a beautiful day - not too hot with just the right amount of breeze – and the drive to
the Bronx Zoo is just as beautiful.

Nick pays the admission, and as we walk in through the gate, he pulls out a folded piece of paper

from his back pocket. I watch him unfold it and can’t help but laugh when I realize what it is. It’s a
map of the zoo with a tour of all of the exhibits outlined in red.

“You really have this all planned out, don’t you?” I giggle.

“Have you ever been here? If you don’t plan out where you’re going, you’ll never make it to

everything you want to see,” Nick said seriously.

I bite my bottom lip to stop my laughter. “Okay, lead the way.”

“First up, Bison Range!” Nick said excitedly as he grabs my hand and starts speed walking

toward our destination.

It is too freaking funny and I have to laugh as I practically run to keep up with him. We hold

hands and laugh our way through the exhibits. We are a little less than half way through “The Nick
Tour” when I need to take a potty break. After that, we march on to the next exhibit, which is Tiger
Mountain. We maneuver our way through the crowd to get up against the glass wall. Nick lets go of
my hand and presses both of his hands against the glass as he leans in close, almost putting his face
against the glass, too. I watch him as his eyes grow wide with wonder and awe. He looks like every
other little boy around us. Apparently, he wasn’t joking when he said that the tigers were his favorite.

“God, look at them. They’re incredible.” He breathes.

I look into the exhibit to see two large tigers playing together - rolling around wrapped up in

each other, pouncing on each other, and chasing each other back and forth. They really are beautiful. I
love seeing this side of him. He’s so carefree and relaxed right now - it looks good on him.

I let Nick get his fill of the tigers and wait until he’s ready to move on. We eventually get to The

World of Reptiles, not something I really want to see, but Nick wants to go in. We enter the house of
the cold-blooded and I stifle a shiver at the darkened space. Reptiles freak me out. I don’t like snakes
and lizards; frogs are okay, though. I guess that’s because technically they are amphibians, not
reptiles. Silly, maybe, but that’s how I justify it to myself. I spot a small alcove where only one or
two people could fit at a time and am curious as to what is over there. There are not a lot of people in
here to begin with, so I don’t have to wait for anyone to move out of the way.

I get up close to the glass to see what’s inside. Tree frogs. You know, the green ones with the big

toes and big eyes, the cute ones. That is what’s in there, thank God! I’m not there for more than a few
seconds when Nick’s big body presses up against my back. His chin rests on my shoulder as his arms
come around my waist.

“Aw, cute,” he mutters, completely uninterested before turning his face into my neck and laying

light kisses there.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as his big hands splay across my stomach.

“Nothing,” he breathes, pressing his groin against my ass.

I roll my eyes when I feel his erection. “Really? We’re in public.”

“Doesn’t stop me from wanting you,” he whispers in my ear before nipping at my lobe.

I suck in a sharp breath at the shot of electricity that races through my body from that little nip. He

chuckles knowingly and slips one hand down the front of my jeans. I start to protest but his finger
finds my clit and I’m lost.

“Someone will see us,” I say halfheartedly.

“No, we’re blocked on both sides, and I’m big enough to block you from sight,” he whispers,

using his other hand to squeeze my breast through my shirt.

Nick’s finger moves in lazy circles around my clit before he delves down farther to dip inside of

me. I bite back a moan as he drags his now wet finger back up to my clit and continues to circle it.

“I love how you get so wet for me,” Nick breathes naughtily in my ear.

I elbow him in the side, making him “Oof” then snicker. Nick continues to torture me slowly while I fight not to moan out loud. His

talented finger goes back and forth between slipping inside of

me and rubbing my clit. I drop my head back against his

shoulder and bite my bottom lip.

“You gonna come for me LaLa?” He rasps in my ear.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Nick adds some more pressure to his rubbing, which brings me closer to losing myself. The hand

that is cupping my breast moves up under my shirt. He finds my nipple through my bra and pinches. I
gasp. Nick plunges his finger back inside of me and pinches my nipple again at the same time, doing
me in. I shudder against him as my core spasms around his finger. He kisses my neck as I slowly
come down from my sexual high.

“Damn, I’ve missed seeing that,” Nick rumbles against my neck.

“You are so bad. I can’t believe you just did that to me in public,” I say, feeling my face turn hot

and red.

“We… we did that. And that’s what makes it exciting.” Nick chuckles.

I turn slightly so I can look back and up at him. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and dark

with lust. The smile on his face is smug and makes me just want to slap him for good measure. He
leans down and kisses me softly on the lips as he extracts one hand from my pants and the other from
my shirt. As I turn around to face him, he pops his finger – yes, the one that was just inside of me -
into his mouth and sucks on it. My mouth drops open in utter shock.

“What?” He laughs after taking his finger out of his mouth.

“You did not just do that.” I gawk.

“What would you like me to have done? Wipe it on my shirt so that when we walk through all of

the black lighting it shows a streak down my chest? Besides…” he leans in close to me again, his lips
brushing mine, “…you taste delicious.”

My face burns fifty shades of red as he laughs it up. Dickhead! I will so be getting him back for

this!

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I sigh contently as we sit down at a table in the Bronx Burger House. It’s one of my favorite

places to eat whenever I get the chance to come to the Bronx. We spent the whole day at the zoo; it is
now 8:00 pm, and I don’t know about Delilah, but I’m starving. Seriously, so hungry I can eat a
buffalo. We grabbed a quick lunch there, but we both just had a salad. I mean, come on, it’s a little
awkward eating a burger or hot dog at the zoo…in front of all of the animals…in their home. Makes
you wonder where the meat actually comes from. Anyway, I look across the table at Delilah, who
looks absolutely fabulous with her wind-blown hair and flushed cheeks from the ride over.

“Hi, I’m Kara, I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” the waitress says, interrupting my admiration of

the woman across from me.

I look up to find Kara smiling flirtatiously at me. I frown. I can’t understand why women do this.

Can’t she see that I’m here with someone? Someone more beautiful than she is. I mean, Kara is a cute
girl, but she’s young - probably about twenty-one or so - and she does absolutely nothing for me;
unlike Delilah, who makes my heart race by just being close to her.

I sneak a glance at Delilah, who is sitting there glaring at the waitress. Beyond that glare, though,

I can see her insecurity peeking through and it pisses me off.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” she asks, directing her question at me.

“I haven’t decided what I want yet, but you can ask my girlfriend if she is ready,” I say, stressing

the word “girlfriend.”

Kara blinks stupidly before looking over at Delilah, who raises an irritated eyebrow at the girl.

Kara stutters for a moment before composing herself.

“Oh, yes, of course. What can I get for you?”

“A lemonade would be great,” Delilah says, her tone a bit snarky.

Kara turns back to me. “Have you decided?”

“A Heineken.”

Kara nods and quickly leaves to get the drinks. I look over at Delilah. She’s watching me

closely. What is she thinking? I can’t really tell by the expression on her face.

“So I’m your girlfriend now, am I?” Delilah says, a small smirk lifting her lips.

I grin. “I thought that was the whole point of going on a date and making rules.”

Delilah shrugs. “I thought we were just dating.”

I give her a dry look. “If we were just “dating” as you say, then I would not have made you come

in the reptile house, Doll.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Shhh! Nick!”

I chuckle.

Our conversation is put on hold when Kara comes back with our drinks. She takes our order then

hurries away. I’m glad I made my point to her. I lean back in my chair and take a swig of my beer,

eyes on Delilah over the bottle of beer. I just can’t seem to take my eyes off of her. I feel entranced by
her every time she’s near me.

We talk about stupid things while we wait for our burgers. She is so funny and quick with her

comebacks that she has me constantly laughing. I feel so much lighter and alive when I am with her. It
kind of freaks me out a little bit. I’ve never had a woman make me feel this way.

Our burgers come and the talking stops. Kara sets my plate down first with a soft, but still flirty,

smile on her face. She then sets down Delilah’s, giving her a tight smile instead. I can see the
annoyance all over Delilah’s face, but she keeps her mouth shut.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Kara says, directing it more at me, along with a

bright smile.

I catch Delilah’s scowl, but the food smells too good, and she is already digging into her fries, so

I decide not to address the whole Kara situation just yet. We are both too engrossed in our meals to
bother with idle chitchat. Delilah moans with every bite and I can’t help but wish that I was the one
making her moan at the moment. I am so glad that she is not one of those chicks who eats like a bird
around guys, just picking daintily at their food. Nope, not Delilah. She digs right into her burger,
getting ketchup on the corners of her mouth and everything. She is so my kind of woman. Not overly
prissy and not afraid to be herself. I love that about her. Shit, did I just say love? Nope, not me.

I finish my burger in record time then excuse myself to use the little boy’s room. I’ve needed to

piss since we got here but I didn’t want to go until I ate. I wash my hands and head back to the table. I
slow when I see that Delilah is speaking to Kara, who is standing next to our table, frown firmly in
place. I catch some of the conversation – Delilah giving Kara an earful about being respectful and not
flirting with someone’s boyfriend right in front of them – although, she does not say it as nicely as
that.

I walk up and put my hand on Delilah’s shoulder when she finally finishes speaking. “Is

everything okay, Doll?”

Delilah looks up at me, her hazel eyes angry. “Oh, yeah, just fine,” she snips.

I glance at Kara, who gives me an uneasy smile and a nod before walking away. I sit down,

never taking my eyes off Delilah. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy, just giving little Kara there a lesson on how not to fuck with me,” Delilah snarls.

I smirk. “Did she learn anything?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“She better have.” Delilah snorts.

I chuckle and shake my head as I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. Delilah smiles

slightly and I can see some of the tension drain out of her. After we finish our meals, I pay. Delilah
refuses to let me leave Kara a big tip, which is no skin off my nose. We hop in the Jeep and I start for
her apartment. I’m disappointed that today has to come to an end because I am having such a great
time still, but I can see that Delilah is tired. I glance over at her through the twilight as I’m driving
and the sight makes my heart pound and my stomach flutter nervously. Her dark hair is blowing
around, her eyes are straight ahead but heavy lidded with contentment, and there is a small smile
playing across her pouty lips. I swallow hard. Never in my whole life has a woman looked so
stunning. I reluctantly drag my eyes back to the road and just enjoy the comfortable silence between

us.

Chapter Thirteen

Nick

I walk Delilah to her door to make sure she gets in safely. I wouldn’t mind another taste of her

lips, either. Our kisses are so explosive that I am sure I am going to have to jerk off tonight. Unless
she decides to invite me in, but I am not going to push my luck.

“Thank you for a great date. I had a lot of fun,” she says first with a shy smile, swinging her body

back and forth like a schoolgirl.

“You’re welcome, Doll. I had a great time with you, too,” I respond with a huge grin on my face.

Her smile is infectious, and I find that’s all I do when she is around.

We stand there staring at each other for a few seconds. We seem to do that a lot lately. I wish I

knew what she is thinking. I’ve wanted to ask her something all afternoon, but was waiting to make
sure that this thing between us was real first. That I still feel the same as I did before we found out
each other’s true identity. Now that I know my feelings are not fleeting, I want to make future plans
with her. I break our spell and speak.

“Quick question for you…” I start confidently.

“Shoot,” she counters.

I find myself nervous all of a sudden. My heart rate elevates and my palms are unusually

sweaty. I shift my feet back and forth and take a moment to compose my thoughts. I am acting
completely ridiculous and am embarrassed for myself. No woman has ever disarmed me so easily. I
defend murderers for fuck’s sake! Get your shit together, Santino! Worst she can do is say no.

I straighten my spine and square my shoulders. I grab her hands and look her in the eyes.

“There’s this annual charity ball I need to attend next month…for work. I have never taken a date
before…” I begin but lose confidence. She must sense it, though, because she gives my hands a
squeeze, encouraging me to continue.

I give an ironic “hmpf” and shake my head. “I just don’t know what’s going on with me. I am

usually so self-assured, so secure. Women don’t throw me off kilter. Nobody frazzles me. But you…
every time we share space I feel like a kid with a crush on his teacher. The things you do to me…”

Delilah’s eyes light up in appreciation, as a shy blush creeps up her neck to her cheeks. That

reaction right there gives me the confidence to continue.

“As I was saying… there’s a charity ball that I go to every year for work. I have never taken a

date before, but I would feel privileged if you would do me the honor of being my date for the
evening, m’lady,” I get out in one breath. I pretend to snatch the feathered cap off my head and extend
my arm across my waist, bowing at the hips as they did in medieval times, a gesture of respect.

She laughs heartily and gives a love tap on the shoulder. “Stand up, you goof ball!”

I stand back up straight and give her a wink. “Well? What do you say?”

“Really? Are you sure you want…” Delilah begins but stops midsentence when she sees my face

drop slightly.

I know where she is going with this, and I will not allow her to say it. “Yes, I am sure. And it

will be my pleasure,” I say with resolve. “In fact, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I add with
finality.

“Well, okay, then,” she says with an adorable giggle, and that’s that. Conversation closed.

She searches her purse for her keys and pulls them out quickly. She is so organized that I am sure

she has a special spot in there designated just for her keys. She jingles them around until she finds the
exact one she wants, and then puts the winning key in the hole. She turns to me one last time to say
goodbye, but I cut her off.

“So…ah…how about a cup of coffee?” I ask with a naughty smirk. Hey, a guy’s gotta try, right?

Delilah rolls her eyes at me and chuckles because we all know what that’s code for. “Goodbye,

Santino. See you Monday morning, bright and early,” she says.

She gives me a chaste peck on my lips and sends me on my way. I don’t blame her, though. This

was our first real date after all. The best date I have ever been on, if I do say so myself. She really
knows how to make me laugh, and she is so witty, always keeping me on my toes. But at the same
time, I feel completely relaxed and at ease. Since we got to know each other the way that we did, I
feel like I can be myself around her, not worry about being judged. Then again, I don’t think Delilah
has a mean bone in her body.

I really don’t want to say goodnight. I don’t want the date to end. I can’t wait until I see her

again. Fortunately, I’ll see her at work, so at least I know it will only be two days until we are
together again. Ugh! I am turning into a chick!

I take the stairs on my way out, two at a time, trying to burn a little sexual energy. My McLaren

is still in the shop from my accident last Wednesday, and there is no way in hell I would subject
Delilah to my piece of shit rental, so I rented an open-air jeep for our date. I always wanted to drive
one, and I knew if anyone would enjoy it, it would definitely be her. And, of course, I was right. She
is so easy-going and free-spirited. Just another thing I love about her. Did I just say love again?
Shit, I mean like… just another thing I like about her.

I walk leisurely to the jeep, keeping an eye on her bedroom window, waiting for the light to

switch on. I see her silhouette pass the window and groan at how sexy she is. It’s going to be another
long, lonely night. I think I am going to hit the gym on my way home.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I shuck off my clothes and throw them on the floor, as they smell like zoo funk. I go into my

bathroom and start the shower, knowing that I have four minutes until the water heats up. Then I return
to my bedroom and fling my mildly stinky body on my bed. I know I need to shower because my hair
has that outside smell from being in the open jeep. But it can wait a few minutes, at least until I have
hot water. I flop down on my back, arms stretched to the side, and sigh. That had to be the best date I
have ever been on. He was charming and romantic. He was naughty and caring. He made me laugh,
and always keeps me on my toes. Perfection.

I gather myself off the bed and head to the shower for a much needed cleansing. As I am

shampooing my hair, I can’t help but wonder what Nick is doing right now. Did he go straight
home? Is he preparing for another date with someone else? Wait…it’s Saturday night… is he getting
ready to go to Club M? I gasp at the thought and then start choking on the water and shampoo that I
swallow. No, he agreed with my rules. I guess this is where the trust issue comes in to play.

I finish up in the shower, dry off, and look for my phone. I need to call Charlie. My mind is

running away with itself. I find it in the back pocket of my dirty jeans that are strewn on the floor. I
unlock it to call her, and low and behold, I have a text.

Nick: I had a great time. ;)

I take a deep breath in relief. I am so glad it wasn’t just me. I am feeling a little flirty, so I shoot

him a back a quick one.

Delilah: Are u winking at me?

I like flirty Nick and he shoots back.

Nick: No, I had something in my emoticon eye :)~

I let out a little laugh to myself, enjoying the banter.

Delilah: Ha ha, very funny, goober! Now your emoticon is sticking his tongue out at me

Nick: Should I be jealous?

Delilah: Nah, he’s not my type. I tend to go after men who are more than just a colon

Nick: lol. Am I your type?

I sit and deliberate for a minute before I answer. I don’t want to show my cards too early. He

still has to earn me back after the whole Nico/LaLa debacle.

Delilah: Oh, please. You are every girl’s type, Nick

Let’s see what he has to say about that. I am so feeding into his ego.

Nick: I don’t want to be anyone’s type but yours

I melt at his words. We go back and forth a few more times, but I make sure to change the

subject to ones that are more neutral. Half an hour later we are still texting, but have come full circle
back to sex. This is getting sticky. It is so easy to misinterpret people through text, so I decide to call
him. We have never spoken on the phone outside of basic work questions before. He picks up on the
second ring.

“Miss me already?” He asks all cocky.

I laugh at his temerity. “You know I do. What are you doing? Getting ready for a hot date? Night

on the town? Quick trip to Club M?” I slip in, trying not to sound nosy.

“I am, aren’t’ I? he asks again. He wants me to tell him that he is exactly my type. Jerk! All of

those questions that I threw at him, venturing on my little phishing expedition, and he only focuses on
the fact that I haven’t told him if he is my type. Talk about persistence.

“You are what?” I ask demurely.

“Don’t play coy with me, Doll,” he retorts. He tries to sound all mean and intimidating, but I can

hear him smiling.

“Me? Never…” I say, still not answering his original question.

“You are avoiding the question, LaLa.”

The last time he called me LaLa I was really angry because I thought he was trying to manipulate

me. But, this time, it feels so natural.

“I like it when you call me ‘LaLa,’” I whisper, and can hear him smile again.

“Me, too,” he says softly.

“I’m gonna go now. I’m getting sleepy,” I say, trying to shut this emotional roller coaster down.

“Okay. I think I may join you…going to sleep,” he adds with a snicker.

“Good night, honey. Sweet dreams,” I wish for him.

“Good night, sweetheart. Dream of me,” he says, and I know he means it.

I plug my phone into its charger, turn off the lights, crawl back into bed, and fall asleep rather

quickly. And I do…dream of him.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

A tiny bit more Delilah…

The morning comes too quickly, and I don’t want to get out of bed. My entire night was

consumed with thoughts and dreams of Nick. Actually, if I am going to be honest, Nico made an
appearance or two. Maybe I shouldn’t declare him completely dead. I had to pee in the middle of the
night, but the dream was so good, I refused to let my body awaken. It felt so real that I think I ended
up orgasming in my sleep. Or maybe I just peed in my bed!

I spend the morning being lazy around the house. I strip my bed and do laundry, straighten up the

other rooms, and stay in my pajamas as long as I can until it is time to get dressed and run errands. I
get all of my food shopping done for the week, as well as stop at a few dress shops to scope out ideas
for the ball Nick asked me to go to with him. All he told me is that it is black tie, and going to be full
of stuffy lawyers. I have no idea what I am going to wear. Do I go sexy or professional? While
window shopping, Charlie calls to see if I want to meet for a late lunch. I haven’t eaten much today,
so I say, “sure.”

Charlie spends most of lunch pumping me for information about my date with Nick. I try to give

her enough information to quell her curiosity, but at the same time, I keep most of the juicy stuff close
to the vest. And forget about all of the personal information we shared. That she will never know. I
actually feel quite protective of the information – and him. I know that it is rare for him to show that
side of himself to anyone - to be vulnerable and exposed - personally and professionally - and I value
the trust that we’ve developed over the past months. So, no, I will not share it with Charlie, or
anyone, no matter how pushy she gets. And lord knows she’s got that down pat. I do, however, tell her
what happened at the burger joint, and how he called me his “girlfriend.” We both squeal like
sorority sisters when I am done with the story.

Just as she begins to berate me again, my phone bings with a text.

Nick: thinking of u

I am sure I light up in a face splitting grin and sigh an “ahh” out loud. Then I realize that it took

him all day to text me something. So, feeling a bit feisty, I decide to screw with him a little.

Delilah: I’m sorry, who is this?

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I am finding it difficult to sleep after hanging up with Delilah. Not only was the date fantastic, but

then talking to her on the phone for hours reminded me of being in high school. It was flirty and fun
and I really didn’t want to hang up. But I knew she was tired from me dragging her around the zoo
all day, along with a few other activities that we engaged in. Since I can’t sleep, I decide to go to my
home office and work for a few hours. I would like to catch up on some work so that maybe Delilah
and I can cut out of work early one day for our next date. Instead of working, I find myself surfing the
web, looking at cocktail dresses. What the hell? I decide right then and there that I am going to buy
her the dress I want her to wear to the charity ball next month. This way, I know that sexy Delilah
will be on my arm, not frumpy Delilah…who I am very attracted to as well… so don’t get all crazy
on me! I will call my personal shopper in the morning to take care of this.

Of course, that would be way too easy, and the control freak in me is not having any of that. Plus,

I don’t think Delilah would appreciate a strange woman picking out her clothes. No, if I am going to
do this for her, then I am going to do it right, and be the one to actually pick it out. So, I spend the next
few hours looking at dresses. By 2:00 am, my head is spinning and I have developed a splitting
headache. Do I want full length, cocktail, or tea length? Off the shoulder, one shoulder, strapless, or
halter? A line, empire, or mermaid? Silk, satin, organza, or lace? Well, that’s an easy one. Side slit
or back slit? Backless or plunging neckline? And don’t let me get started on color. Holy hell! I slam
down my laptop and head to bed. This is going to have to wait a few days. Maybe I should ask
Carmella for help.

I toss and turn most of the night. My thoughts waiver between nightmares of killer dresses and

wet dreams of LaLa’s incredible mouth wrapped around my cock. To say my head is fucked up is an
understatement. I sleep in as late as possible, knowing that I don’t have any concrete plans for the
day, and I won’t see Delilah until tomorrow. I consciously have to tell myself not to call or text her
again today.

I have an early lunch, since I pretty much skipped breakfast, then decide to give Calvin a shout to

see if he wants to meet up to shoot some hoops. Club M is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so he is
usually up for some physical activity since he doesn’t have to go into work later tonight or tomorrow.
We meet at his place because the condo has private courts and play a couple games of one-on-one.
He embarrassingly kicks my ass four games to two, and I give up. I just can’t concentrate. All I can
think about is Delilah and where I want to take her next. And when I am going to taste her sweet pussy
again. I chug a bottle of water, get my shit together, and wrap a towel around my neck. Then I sit on
the bench next to Calvin.

“Dude, I am screwed,” I say to him, hesitant to open up. I don’t like having these personal

conversations with anyone, but I have known Calvin for years, since my law school days, and he is
good peeps. In fact, besides Delilah, he is the only other person to know the truth about my mother.

“I noticed you were a little distracted out there. I know you suck, but, my man, you sucked hard

today,” he replies.

I chuckle with him because we both know he is dead on. “I just can’t get her out of my head, bro.

She worked her way under my skin and took residence,” I say honestly.

“Ooooh, you’re in looooove, playa,” he teases, with an underlying seriousness.

I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Fuck me.” I don’t confirm or deny his accusation, but

in my heart, I know he’s right.

“So? What are you going to do about it? Cause if you don’t want her, you can send that fine white

ass my way,” he says, trying to goad a reaction from me.

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

Calvin grins and nods knowingly. He stands up to leave, says “later,” and walks away. I guess

my jealous reaction to his comment about wanting Delilah answered his original theory. Do I love
her? Holy fuck, I think I do.

I sit here for a few more minutes, enjoying the fresh air, and the peace and quiet. Except there is

no peace, not in my head, at least. Everything about the past few months is swirling around confusing
the fuck out of me. These feelings I am having, physically and emotionally, and the ache I feel when
she is not around worries me. What if, at the end of the day, I am not enough for her, and she just ups
and leaves. I don’t think I could survive that.

As I head home, I debate whether or not to call her. We said at the end of the date that we would

just see each other at work on Monday. But, the pansy ass that I am, misses her too much to wait. So I
decide to take the easy way out and just text her.

I force myself to wait until I get home, which is utter torture, because I am an instant gratification

type of guy, but I know it will be worth it. I stink to high hell from playing ball with Calvin, so I
decide to take a shower first. Once clean, I slip on a pair of comfortable workout pants, grab a bottle
of water, then sink down into my leather sectional. Ahh! Now…it’s time to see what my little bit is up
to.

Nick: Thinking of u

Delilah: I’m sorry, who is this?

What the hell? She better be fucking with me.

Nick: The man of your dreams

A few minutes pass and I am getting really impatient. I distract myself by going to the kitchen

and getting another cold bottle of water. It is really hot out there today, and I was sweating buckets on
the courts. When I get back to the couch, there is a text waiting.

Delilah: Christian?

Christian? Who the hell is Christian. Okay, I need to keep calm. Delilah is a smart girl; I have to

assume she is still messing with me, so I play along.

Nick: Guess again, doll.

Delilah: Gideon? Ethan?

What? I stand up quickly and knock over my bottle of water. Shit! I am stunned, shocked, and

shaken. How many guys is she seeing? Before I can respond, another text comes in.

Delilah: No, No…this must be Jesse. You’re the one that kept me up late last night. What you

did with that peanut butter. Omg, it was so hot!

Enough with the texting! I pick up the phone and dial her number; she picks up on the first ring.

She doesn’t say hello right away. All I can hear is her laughing so hard that she is snorting through her
nose. When she finally calms down, I speak first.

“Who the hell are all of these guys and how many are you fucking?” I shout into the phone. I don’t

even know if she can hear me over her laughing. The fact that she is laughing should clue me in to the
reality that she is just screwing with me, but the mere thought of another man touching her has me so
riled up that I can’t think straight.

She must hear the seriousness in my voice because she stops laughing, but then states, “Oh, Nick,

come on. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Delilah. Who are all of these men?”

“They are my book boyfriends, Nick! Jeez, calm down.”

I take a deep breath and try to be rational. In a calm voice, I ask. “What’s a book boyfriend and

how do I find them so I can kick their asses?

She chuckles again at my expense and responds, “I don’t think you will be able to kick any of

their asses, sweetheart.”

Now my hackles are rising once again. How dare she question my machismo? “What? You don’t

think I can take them?” I ask, my ego bruised.

“Because they live in my Kindle, dumbass. They are fictional!” she shouts at me, knocking me

down a peg or two.

“Oh,” I say softly, “In that case, what was that about peanut butter you mentioned?”

We laugh together until the drama is forgotten. We stay on the phone for another few hours

talking about everything and nothing. We even listen to some music and eat dinner on the phone
together. The conversation flows so easily and there is a comfort level between us that is so natural,
as if we have known each other for years, instead of months. Every day that passes, I fall deeper for
this girl. I can only pray that she feels the same way.

As midnight approaches, we start saying our goodnights. Neither of us wants to hang up the

phone, but we both have to be at work early. By 1:00 am, we are still holding on. Both of us are
drifting to sleep, so I force her to hang-up.

“Hang up, LaLa,” I say softly, “You are exhausted.”

“So are you. I can’t wait to fall asleep in your arms.” She yawns, and my heart flutters.

“You know if I was there we wouldn’t get any sleep!”

She sniggers and agrees. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Goodnight, LaLa. It’s time to hang up.”

“Okay,” she agrees sleepily.

“And, Delilah?

“Yeah, babe?”

“Don’t be on time tomorrow. Your boss says to come into work a little late.”

“Yes, boss,” she answers with a giggle.

My cock stirs. Damn it!

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Nite, Nick. I …”

I suck in a quick breath, wondering what she is about to say. Am I ready for it? Will I say it

back? “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she answers, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Before I have the chance to respond, I hear a click, dead air, then the operator yammering in my

ear…”If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you need help, hang up, and then
dial your operator.” Oh, yeah, I need help all right.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I can’t believe I almost let it slip. I was so tired, and it felt so natural, that it just escaped. Thank

God, I caught myself! That would have been tragic; especially since there is no way that Nick has
those kinds of feelings for me. I wouldn’t be able to face him in the morning. I mean, I know he is
attracted to me, and he really likes me as a person. He even calls me his girlfriend, but I just don’t
see those words coming out of his lips for me. But that’s neither here nor there.

Nick told me to take the morning off and to come into work late today, and I know he meant it, but

that’s just not in my nature. Besides, I can’t wait to see him. I take my time getting dressed, prepare
myself a lunch, even have a second cup of coffee, but I am still running early. I stop at the café on my
way in to pick up a coffee and cannoli for Nick, but they are out of cannolis. Of course. So, I pick up
a donut instead. If he doesn’t eat it, I will.

I get to the office just after 9:00 am, and as I approach my desk, I see the top of Nick’s head, his

ass in the air. What a sight! I say good morning, but obviously startle him because as he stands to
greet me, he slams the top of his head into my desk.

“Ouch, shit! Hey there, Delilah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard,” he says, knocking on his head. But the double entendre isn’t lost on

either of us and my eyes drift south. I can’t stop the blush that creeps up, but ignore it as I know Nick
likes it. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I would just come into work. What are you doing here?” I ask,

waving my arms around my desk, wondering why he is going through my desk drawers.

Nick continues to rifle through my bottom right drawer, obviously looking for something. “Ah

ha! Here it is! I have been looking for this file all morning,” Nick elates, and then throws his arm in
the air showing me the document.

“You could have called me if you couldn’t find something, Nick. That’s what I am here for… to

assist you.”

“Thanks, Doll. But I was hoping that you were sleeping in this morning,” he says with a wink.

“But now that you are here, can you come into my office? I have something that I need to talk to you
about.”

I put my purse into my desk, grab the coffee and donut, and head into his office. I tamp down my

sudden burst of panic. As soon as I hear the words “need to talk,” my stomach drops with dread. “I
picked this up for you on my way in. They didn’t have any cannolis today, sorry,” I try to say
cheerfully, hoping that he doesn’t catch on to my anxiety.

“Thank you, Delilah. You really didn’t have to do that, but since you did…” Nick rips into the

bag like a kid on Christmas, and his eyes light up when he sees the donut. “I haven’t had a donut in
years,” he says talking with a mouth full of donut, his lips covered in powdered sugar.

I chuckle at the sight of a grown man devouring the treat like it’s the first time he’s ever had

sugar. “I’m glad you are enjoying it! I try to have one myself at least once a month. Why deprive
yourself of the doughy, sugary, goodness?”

“I am so glad that you are a dessert connoisseur because I have a job for us. Well, for you

actually. That’s what I need to talk to you about.” I take a deep breath and let it out, feeling much
better knowing that whatever he needs to discuss with me is just about work.

Nick sits in his big leather chair behind his desk, and then points to the chair across from him,

telling me to take a seat. “Since I didn’t think you were coming in this morning, I went through all of
the voicemails. There was one from my ex, Veronica,” he says disdainfully.

“Um, okay?” I say, panic rising again, as are my eyebrows.

“She is the new President of the charity we are going to the ball for next month. It’s a non-profit

helping abused and neglected children find loving homes.” I nod for him to continue, listening
intently. I am not thrilled that his ex is still in the picture, and even more perturbed knowing that she
will be at the ball. “Anyway, she called because the board member who is in charge of finding the
dessert caterer, as well as choosing all of the desserts for the event, has a family emergency and can
no longer fulfill her job duties.”

I am not 100% certain where he is going with this, but it definitely does sound like something I

would love to do. “Okay, go on.”

“So, since she is so new at this, she really doesn’t know anybody she can ask a favor from…”

I cut him off, feeling a little annoyed. I really can’t explain what transpires next. Hormonal,

raving, out of my mind, lunatic. Yep, I went there. “That’s just bullshit, Nick. She is totally
manipulating you to get you back. First, you will be her ‘hero,’ by saving the desserts, then she will
attempt to lure you into bed,” I say, jealousy rearing its ugly head. “If you want to be with her again,
just tell me. Feel free to go and work with her on this whole dessert rouse, but don’t treat me like an
idiot. I don’t deal with liars, and I certainly don’t deal with cheaters!” I yell, standing up abruptly. I
guess Ryan did fuck me up more than I thought.

I start to walk out of Nick’s office, but he jumps up and blocks me from leaving. “What just

happened?” he asks, completely confused.

“I’ve just been here before, Nick. Remember, with Ryan? And I can’t put myself there again. If

you would rather be with someone else, then please…”

Nick leans down and kisses me gently. “You are the only woman I want, Delilah. The only one I

have ever wanted. The only one I will ever want.”

“Really?” I ask, completely humiliated by my outburst, but proud of myself for standing up for

myself just the same. Fucking green-eyed monster.

“Yes, really. Trust, remember?” he asks, running his knuckles down my face.

“Ugh, yeah, I know. You’re right, Nick. I am so sorry for freaking out on you. Please forgive me,”

I beg. Boy have the tables turned.

I lift onto my tippy toes, trying to reach his mouth. He meets me half way and as our lips collide,

I feel a desperation that I never felt before.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says a little out of breath from our kiss. “Green looks good on you;

I’m flattered by your jealousy, but it is completely unnecessary,” he reassures me, then gives me a soft
kiss on the tip of my nose.

And just like that, I have no doubt that I have fallen in love.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah again…

After my little eruption, and a few more minutes of making out, Nick explains what the rest of my

job entails - find a dessert caterer and pick out the menu a.s.a.p. Also, price is not an issue.
Apparently, the attendees pay a thousand dollars per plate. “It’s all for the children,” Nick says,
when he sees my face go ashen.

Of course, I make sure that I report directly to him, and that she won’t be joining me on any of the

tastings. I don’t want anything to do with this Veronica chick. He assures me that I am the boss and
all decisions I make are final. Sweet! No pun intended.

I spend the next week balancing my days between work and dessert tastings. I try to schedule

them all for my lunch hour, but Nick tells me to do whatever I need to do to get it done. It is my “top
priority,” according into him. And since the charity ball is only ten days away, I try to keep focused.
With my nose to the grindstone, I visit six cake shops in four days, and have nothing to show for it but
a stomachache and an extra pound or so on my ass.

I need to find the “hot” place that only the rich use. The elite. The best. The top of the heap. The

cream of the crop. Hmmm, maybe a place that does celebrity weddings? Oh my God! Duh, Charlie!
As soon as I realize she is the answer, I send her a text.

Delilah: Hey, lady!

Charlie: Hello, my friend. What’s up?

Delilah: Need a favor

Charlie: Anything for u!

Delilah: I need a cake place to cater for the charity ball. The best. 1 that all the celebs use

Charlie: Hmmm. Delectable Desserts on 5

ave. Across from Saks

Delilah: Thank u! IOU : )

Charlie: It may be hard to get an appt. I hear he is not easy to work with, but is the best

Delilah: Ok, thx! I will call right now

Charlie: Ok, let me know what happens. Ttyl

Delilah: Bye!

She wasn’t kidding. Just after I finished texting with Charlie, I Google Delectable Desserts and

give them a call. I speak to Donna, who is the assistant, but I know from the website that I need to
make the appointment with Fronk.

“Sorry, honey, he only works with celebrity couples,” she tells me when I try to make an

appointment.

“What? Really? Well, Nick, um, he is a very well known, high profile attorney. He has

defended some of the most notorious criminals,” I squeak out, trying to come up with something that
she will accept to give me an appointment.

“And you are his…” she pauses, waiting for my response.

“Fiancée?” I lie. Shit, shit, shit! Nick is going to kill me.

“Well, in that case, dear, why didn’t you say?”

“Sorry, it’s just a very…recent…sudden…” I stutter, unable to finish the sentence. Damn, I am

such a bad liar!

Donna chuckles and it’s a good thing that we are on the phone, because my cheeks are rosy and

sweat is dripping down my back. How am I going to explain this to Nick? I guess I really don’t have
to. Nobody has to know really, right?

“Usually Fronk is booked up months ahead, but lucky you, he has a cancellation! He is available

this Friday at 1:00 pm. We will see you two lovebirds then.”

“Wait! Oh, no, no, no, Donna. Nick is a very busy man. It will be just me.” I dance around the

issue. Holy crap, I am freaking out.

“Sorry, hun. Fronk only takes appointments with couples. He wants to make sure everybody is

happy. Do you want to check Nick’s schedule and get back to me? Just know I can’t guarantee the
slot will still be open.”

“No, that’s okay, Donna. We will be there. I will make sure of it.”

“Okay, dear. Looking forward to meeting you two.”

“You as well. Goodbye.”

I hang up and slouch into my chair. I am flushed, sweating, and now sick to my stomach for lying.

I know it isn’t a horrible lie, but still a lie nonetheless. I tell myself it is for the children and try to
compose myself. How the hell am I going to convince Nick to go with me? Oh, what a tangled web
we weave…

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

As the work piles up, my days seem to blur together. It is Friday morning already, and I haven’t

had the chance to plan a date with Delilah this week - rule number three. I have gotten into the office
early every day this week, trying to get work done before she gets here. It seems as though as soon as
she is within reaching distance, I am completely distracted. I can probably tell you what she wore
every day, but I can’t remember the most important details of the cases I am working on.

I glance up at her out the windowed wall, and even in her professional wear, she is stunning. I

told her to start dressing more casual on Fridays, and I worried for a minute because last time I told
her to dress down she was a hot mess; but today, she looks spectacular and tantalizing and I can’t
concentrate – a reoccurring theme. She is wearing a red wrap dress that drapes across her cleavage
perfectly. And, instead of heels, she has on wedges, the heels looking like cork. How do women
walk in those things? I can’t help staring. The things she does to me…and makes me want to do to
her.

I shake my head and remind myself why I was looking at her in the first place, trying to grab her

attention. She catches my eyes, and I wink. She smiles, and shakes her head. I signal her to come
into my office, giving her the head nod. We are so in sync, nonverbals are all we need to
communicate most days.

“Hey there, Delilah,” I say, but have now started to almost sing it. Have to change it up some.

Don’t want to become boring.

“Hi, Boss. What can I do for you?” she asks. And for the second time, I find myself completely

turned on by the sound of that. Damn, I am going to have to get her to call me that in bed.

“I noticed while reviewing my schedule this morning that I have no meetings this afternoon. I

thought maybe we could cut out early and have that date I owe you.”

“Oh…um…yeah…about that,” Delilah stutters, confusing me.

I notice that all of a sudden her face flushes. She is picking at her nail polish, not meeting my

eyes.

I get up from behind my desk and take a seat in the chair next to her. “Everything okay, Doll?

What’s wrong?” I ask, beginning to worry a little.

“I kind of finagled your schedule a little bit so that you would be free all afternoon,” she says

nervously, “please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset. Look at me. I am not mad. But why?”

Delilah finally meets my eyes, and I can see the worry in them. “I thought maybe I can take you

out?”

I lean my head back and bark out a laugh. Why is she so nervous to ask me out? She has to know

that she owns me. “Of course! I would love that! What do you have in mind?”

She laughs in relief when she sees my reaction and hears my response. I can physically see her

body relax. “I have something in mind. I will tell you more later. Get back to work,” she orders me
and I can’t help but smile. We stare at each other briefly before returning to work, but I can’t resist
her mouth, so I lean in and capture her lips for a quick, but passionate kiss.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Mission accomplished. I got Nick away from work, and we are in his car - oh my God, how sexy

is this car? – and on our way to Delectable Desserts. Only he doesn’t know that yet. I give him the
address, and he pulls out of the parking garage, heading to Fifth Avenue. Even though our office is
not too far, with Friday afternoon traffic, it may take a little longer than usual to get there. Perfect
time for me to bare my soul. Purge my sins. Cop to the lie.

“So? Where are we headed?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

I just stare at his profile for a couple beats. Damn, he is magnificent! Every time I look at him

like this – carefree and at ease – I am reminded of how much I care about him. How much I want
him. How much I want him to want me. “Promise me that no matter what I say, you will not turn this
car around.”

“Delilah, where are we going?”

“Promise me, Nick.”

He takes a deep breath and agrees. “Fine, I promise. Now tell me.”

Now it’s my turn to take a deep breath. I blow it out and decide to spit out the whole story. I look

straight ahead, afraid if I look into his gorgeous greens, I will chicken out. Not to mention the fact that
I am humiliated for putting us in this position. Oh, and let’s not forget that I lied to get us into said
position.

“So, I went to like a gazillion dessert and cake shops. Trying out different desserts, tasting a

buttload of cake – literally. They were all okay, I guess, but nothing great. And I want great. I want
fantastic. I want… I want… spectacular!” I shout.

I take a chance and glance over at Nick. He appears to be amused by my story telling skills so

far, so I continue, even though he hasn’t commented yet.

“Anyway, I ran out of options. Well, at least I thought I did. Then I remembered that Charlie has

connections to this kind of stuff. So she gave me the name of a place. Delectable Desserts.”

I take a breath, waiting for a response. Something. Anything. “Okay?” Is all he gives me.

“That’s where we are going.”

Nothing.

“To a celebrity wedding cake shop.”

Nothing.

“To taste all kinds of sweet, sugary, delicious, cavity inducing, orgasm in your mouth desserts,” I

say excitedly.

Nick chuckles, finally! I am not sure if it is at my description, or at my excitement, but as I turn to

look at him, his eyes look heavy, full of lust. “Orgasmic, huh?” he asks like an adolescent.

I can’t help but grin at his juvenile comment. “Get your mind out of the gutter, mister,” I

reprimand.

Nick grins even wider, and my heart flops around in my chest. I am a goner. “So, what you are

telling me is that we are going out on a date… spending time together…tasting delicious cakes,
desserts, and pastries… all while I get to watch you have an orgasm in your mouth…in public? And
you were afraid to tell me this, why?” he asks in jest, but knowing he wants a real answer.

“There’s a little more to it,” I add, wincing.

“By the look on your face, I am not sure I want to know.”

“Okay, let’s not worry about it then,” I try.

“Delilah…” he sneers.

“Okay, fine. So, apparently this guy that we have an appointment with, Fronk…”

He interrupts and looks at me. “You mean Frank?” he asks with a snicker.

“No, his name is Fronk,” I grumble, nodding my head in a “yes” motion.

“Frank?” he asks again.

I know he understands me, I know he is fucking with me. But I am so on edge from avoiding

telling him all week that I repeat myself a little louder than I normally would have.

“Fronk, Nick. The guy’s name is Fronk. FR- ah-NK. Fronk.” I enunciate, waving my arms

around.

“His name is Frank. I am not calling him Fronk.” He looks at me again, his lips curling slightly at

the corners.

I let out a sigh, completely exasperated. I look at him and he is laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

“What? What’s so funny?” I huff, slapping my hand on my thigh.

“I just realized something,” he says during the breaths he takes, still laughing his ass off.

I start laughing to, but I have no idea why. “Are you gonna share?”

“His name is Fronk…” I think he is going to pee in his pants.

“Yeah. That’s what I have been trying to tell you.”

“Like the wedding planner on Father of the Bride…” Still laughing.

“Oh. My. God.”

Nick and I look at each other and just continue laughing. We are having so much fun that I almost

forgot that I still haven’t told him the thing. You know, the whole engagement thing.

It takes about ten more minutes to get to the shop, and Nick pulls up to the valet in front of Saks. I

give him a questioning look, and he tells me that while we are here, after the tasting, he needs to run
into Saks and pick up his tuxedo for the ball. I just shrug an okay, makes sense.

But before we get out of the car, I have to tell him. I pull up my big girl panties, turn toward him,

and grab both of his hands in mine. I have no idea how he is going to react to what I need to tell him.

“Nick, before we go in, I need to finish telling you what I started before we got sidetracked with

Fronk.”

He snickers when I say Fronk’s name, but I think he knows I am not kidding because he nods his

head. “Okay, go ahead, LaLa. I am listening,” he says supportive as usual. How can one man be so
perfect?

No pressure. Here goes nothing. “So, this guy we have an appointment with, Fronk…” I pause

giving him a chance to snicker, but he doesn’t. He is listening attentively. “…He is supposed to be
the best of the best. And that’s I want. For the charity. For you.” I look into his eyes for courage and
see exactly what I need, so I continue. “He only meets with celebrities… or high power
professionals, in your case. Anyway, he has one other requirement. They must be engaged.” I look
into his eyes to see if he is picking up what I am putting down, but then look away. Embarrassed.

He doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever. I open my mouth to apologize, but shut it as

soon as I realize he is speaking. “So, let me get this straight,” he says emphatically. He takes his
forefinger, places it gently under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “We are going out on a date…
spending time together…tasting delicious cakes, desserts, and pastries… all while I get to watch you
have an orgasm in your mouth…in public…and all I have to do is pretend to be engaged to a
beautiful, charming, vivacious…perfect…woman?” he asks rhetorically. My eyes widen at his
response, then well with tears of bliss.

“You’re not mad?” I ask, dazed and confused.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I kinda got you here under false pretenses,” I mumble.

Nick shakes his head in disbelief. “Delilah, while I’m not thrilled that you didn’t just tell me

upfront what we’re doing, I can’t be mad at you for helping me. For helping the children. I…think…
you’re…wonderful.” He says that last part very slowly, pecking me on the lips in between each
word, and I am in heaven.

I look him dead in the eyes, and all I can see is adoration. I put my hand up to caress his cheek,

and he leans into it. My heart sings, and a shit-eating grin lightens my face. I feel like a weight has
been lifted, and I am ready to enjoy my date. If I remember correctly, I still owe him from that whole
zoo episode. Turnabout is fair play.

“Okay, let’s go, Boss.” I say excitedly, knowing what I have planned for him.

“Let’s go, fiancée,” he responds with a wink and a kiss on the nose.

From your lips to God’s ears.

Chapter Fourteen

Nick

I never thought I would hear those words leave my lips. Fake engagement or not, calling her my

fiancée was a shock to the system. Even bigger shock is the fact that it didn’t scare me as much as it
would have even six months ago – B.D. - before Delilah.

We hop out of the car and head across the street to Delectable Desserts. I grab her hand while we

are walking and she looks at me, contentment in her eyes. I give her hand a squeeze, and wink at her,
my way of acknowledging that I feel the same way.

We enter the cake shop and the sweet, sugary smell hits me right away. I don’t know how anyone

can work in a place like this. Don’t get me wrong, I like my cannolis as much as the next guy, but this
is overwhelming; Delilah, however, looks like a pig in shit. And if sitting in a room filled with a
fuckload of sweets makes her smile like she is right now, I will do it every day for the rest of my life,
just so I can see that light in her eyes.

I am so consumed by the smell – and staring at Delilah – that I just realized that a bell is still

chiming from when we walked through the door. Only, it isn’t the normal, standard door bell ding
dong to let an employee know we are here. It is actually playing Richard Wagner’s Here Comes the
Bride. I groan and Delilah shoots me a look. I give her a little pinch on the butt and she giggles - now
that’s a sound they should record and play when people walk through the door.

We walk further into the store, waiting for someone to greet us. From the back comes what I

later find out to be Donna, Fronk’s assistant. As it turns out, Fronk was called away to a last minute
shotgun celebrity wedding in California, and apparently, the bride and groom were willing to double
his fee. So, we will be meeting with Donna today. To tell you the truth, I am a little relieved, and I
think Delilah is as well, but probably not for the same reasons. I was just afraid of offending him
when he introduced himself. Nervous that I wouldn’t be able to contain my laughter when he said his
name. Anyway, Donna seems like a pleasant woman, and hopefully this will be quick and painless. I
have plans for Delilah tonight, and I am ready to get started on them.

Donna seats us at a small square table for two in the corner of the store, our backs to the wall.

We are seated next to each other, Delilah to my left, while Donna is across from us. The table is
dressed elegantly, with a white linen tablecloth, fresh flowers, and two glasses of water. She
explains to us the process and what we can expect, pulling out a book full of options – pictures,
packages, and prices. She leaves the book with us to flip through, while she heads to the back where
the kitchen is located. She tells us to sit tight, she will start bringing out their most popular samples,
and as we pick out things we want to try, she will have sample sizes of them prepared as well.

Once Donna is out of sight, I lean back and wrap my left arm around Delilah’s shoulder, giving

her a quick peck on her temple. She leans into it, and my heart skips a beat. She in turn rests her right
hand on my thigh. My muscle twitches briefly at the feel of her hand. It has been almost a week since
she has touched me. I can feel her looking at me, so I turn toward her. She flashes me a naughty smile,
mischief dancing in her eyes.

“What are you thinking, Doll?” I ask, trying to figure out what’s causing that look she’s giving

me.

“Nothing. Just reviewing the book Donna left us,” she answers, looking back at the book.

Delilah’s right hand – not the one still on my thigh driving me crazy - reaches up to her hair and

starts to twirl the ends. Ah ha! That’s her tell.

“You are an awful liar.”

Delilah laughs, lets out a little snort, and then covers her mouth. “I know,” she says, shaking her

head.

I give her a little kiss on the nose, acknowledging the snort, but at the same time, letting her know

that I think it is adorable. Just like the rest of her.

“Well? Tell me,” I prod.

“Remember our date at the zoo?”

“Of course,” I answer, raising an eyebrow. Where is she going with this?

“Remember what you did to me in the reptile house?”

“How can I forget? That was hot,” I say with a ‘pleased with myself’ look on my face.

“Well, payback’s a bitch. That’s all I’m saying.”

And that’s all she said, just before her hand leaves my thigh and creeps its way toward my

already rock hard cock. My body jumps involuntary at the electricity jolting through me as her hand
makes contact, my back slamming against the wall.

“Shit! Delilah, what are you doing?” I ask incredulously.

“Just having a little fun,” she answers, offering me a one-shoulder shrug.

“But, Donna’s going to be back any minute now,” I say, reminding her of where we are.

Delilah leans in close to my ear, and throws my words back in my face, “that’s what makes it

exciting.”

Delilah wiggles her eyebrows, and I groan as my cock pulses at the thought of what she has

planned for me - pure torture. But the best kind.

Donna comes and goes several times, bringing all different kinds of desserts, starting with

pastries. Delilah tastes them all, but I only nibble at a few. She leaves her hand just resting on my
cock, and I am struggling. I lean forward a little trying to create some friction, but she notices what I
am doing and gives me a little squeeze. A small moan escapes my mouth and she teases me even
more with a quick rub up and down in her tight little fist. If she does that again, I might just come in
my pants. That’s how ready I am.

“You are killing me, woman,” I tell her, but she just continues to sample the pastries, ignoring my

poor dick, who is begging for attention.

Donna walks up again to clear our plates and brings us fresh water. She asks how we are

enjoying everything so far. Delilah licks her lips and answers, “very well, thank you. But, I enjoy my
desserts with cream.” And just then, she begins to really stroke my tortured cock.

The combination of her comment, and her hand, causes me to choke on my water and start to

cough. Both ladies look at me, asking if I am all right, but only one knows why I am in such disarray.

I take a deep breath and attempt to speak, but Delilah is not letting up. In fact, she manages to

lower my zipper and finagle her hand down my pants. Now we are skin on skin, and I am on the verge
of shooting my load. “Fine. Yes. Thanks. Me, too. Enjoy my desserts creamy,” is all I get out before
Delilah finally steps in.

“Nick loves cannolis. Do you think you could have some samples prepared for him?”

To my relief, I don’t think Donna is clued in to what is going on under the table, and heads back

to the kitchen. Thank God for this tablecloth. It’s the only thing standing between Donna and my junk.
Delilah tightens her grip on my now bare cock, and I feel my balls tighten. I just can’t hold on
anymore. Just as I am about to come, Donna pauses and turns toward us. “Yes, of course. Just give me
ten minutes to get that for you. In the mean time, I will bring you some cake choices. Do want cream
with those, too?” she asks innocently.

Delilah and I look at each other, her face blushing, my jaw locked, trying to contain my cock from

going off like a rocket in front of this nice woman. “Yes,” Delilah responds quickly, “We both love
cream!”

I hear the kitchen door whoosh shut, and that’s the last thing I remember. Lights flash in front of

my eyes, and I hear nothing but the sound of my thumping heart. In a room full of sugar and chocolates,
all I can smell is Delilah’s mouthwatering cherry blossom lotion. Have I died and gone to heaven?
No, I am in heaven here on earth, experiencing a crazy, intense orgasm at the hands of my ideal
woman. My girlfriend. My Delilah. My… fiancée? Shit! No, don’t even go there, Santino!

When I finally come to, my head is leaning back against the wall, my body completely lax. Still

leaning my head against the wall for support, I turn toward this angel. All of a sudden, my crazy,
wanton girl turned back into her shy counterpart, unable to look me in the eyes. I shake my head in
disbelief. I let out a quiet chuckle at what she just did to me. She completely unmanned me…in a cake
shop no less. I lean toward her, grab her face a little roughly and kiss her hard and I kiss her
passionately, trying to convey all of my feelings for her. She meets me kiss for kiss and my dick starts
to harden again. Fuck, I can’t get enough of her!

We finally pull apart, both of us out of breath. “That’s some control you’ve got there, Boss,” she

says humorously, but sounding impressed.

“More than you, LaLa. And now it’s time to go. Pick your choices. Let’s get the hell out of

dodge. I have plans for us tonight.”

Delilah nods at me, knowing I mean business, and doesn’t question me. She meets with Donna

one last time, gives her the essential details, makes all necessary decisions, hands her the deposit, and
we are out of there within ten minutes. Ten minutes longer than I would have liked. Just sayin’.

Delilah leads me out of the shop, hand in hand. As soon as we hit the sidewalk, I pull her arm

gently, careening her body toward mine. I bend at the knees, wrap my arms around her waist, and
scoop her up. I kiss her languidly, and then start twirling her around in the air as she squeals in
delight. No woman has ever made me this happy. I give her a chaste kiss on the lips, placing her
down gently on the sidewalk. I grab her hand and head toward Saks, taking back the lead. My rightful
place.

When we get to Saks I remind her that I need to check on my tux. Okay, it’s a little white lie, but

she doesn’t need to know that. I just need to run in to make sure the dress I ordered for her arrived
correctly, and pay for it. I am going to have it delivered to her apartment the night before the charity
ball.

“Hey, Doll. Do you think you can get the car from the valet while I run in quickly? I should only

be two minutes,” I ask. I figure if I distract her with a task she won’t ask too many questions.

“That mean I can drive it home?”

I know she isn’t serious but I am caught off guard. I try to let her down gently.

“Um…huh? LaLa, I have never let anybody drive my baby before. Maybe another time.”

Delilah sticks out her lower lip in a pout and bats her eyelashes at me. I am a goner. “Please,

Boss?” she says, running her hand up and down my chest, looking up at me with that puppy dog face.

Her calling me “Boss,” touching me sensually, and looking at me like that, is a heady

combination. My cock stirs in my pants and I can’t think straight.

“Shit! Fine,” I spit out before realizing that I agreed. She must have me in a motherfucking spell

to get me to agree to this. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere without me!”

“Never,” is all she says, but the sinister tone worries me.

I run into the store like a bat out of hell, making sure I get back to her before she has the chance to

disappear with my baby. I’ll deal with my feelings and behavior later.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I am such a hussy! I am in complete and utter shock. I mean, it went exactly as planned; I am

stunned that I actually went through with it. Moreover, I am astonished that Mr. Control freak even let
me. But I must have done something right because here I am, waiting for his car while he checks on
his tux, and then I get to drive it home! That’s twice in one day I put a dent in his control freakery.
Will wonders never cease?

Nick walks out of the store at the exact same time as the valet pulls up in the McLaren. Figures.

Not that I was going to desert him here, but the look on his face when he ordered me to stay was
classic. The valet hands Nick the keys, and I pause for a second wondering what he is going to do.
He leans down and kisses me on the cheek, dangling the keys in front of me.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says, then places them gently into my hands.

“You are really going to let me drive your baby?” I ask dubiously.

“I am nothing if not a man of my word,” he says, proffering an honest smile.

“You trust me that much?” I ask heartwarmingly.

“More than anyone,” he says and my heart melts into a gooey mess.

I stand up on my tippy toes and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down toward me. He

is so big and strong that he doesn’t have to comply if he doesn’t want to, but he gives me what I want.
I lean my forehead against his and thread my fingers through his hair. A few seconds later, I pull back
mere centimeters and rub my nose along his, down the side until we are tip to tip. I then run the tip of
my nose back and forth against his, Eskimo kissing him. It is so gentle, so intimate, that I feel a lone
tear slide down my cheek.

When I pull back, Nick’s eyes are closed, his arms covered in goose bumps. I give him one more

kiss, this time on the lips.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

I hand Nick back his keys. Driving right now is the furthest thing from my mind. Besides, the fact

that he was going to let me means more to me than actually doing it.

Nick holds the keys up. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Take me home, Boss.”

“You read my mind!”

And in case you were wondering… yes, a McLaren can go from zero to sixty in three point one

seconds.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah once more…

Nick is driving like a maniac. I know he is dying to get back to my place, just as I am desperate

to have him inside of me. Proof positive, we got there in record speed. What should have taken us
half an hour, turned into a fifteen-minute ride to get here. Like I said, record time.

He whips into my designated “tenant parking” spot – which is pretty much his since I don’t have

a car - and jumps out before the engine completely cuts off. Wow! He is in a hurry. He jogs over to
my door to open it for me, and helps me out. This car is so low, I feel like my ass is dragging on the
floor. But no complaints here! I start walking to my door, but turn around when I realize he isn’t
following me. He is just leaning against his car.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask, perplexed.

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders with his hands in his

pockets.

Damn, he looks hot!

“Do you want a written invitation?” I ask sarcastically.

Nick shoots me a smile so naughty my panties automatically wet. I give him a “come hither”

with the crook of my pointer finger, licking my lips in anticipation.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He pushes off his car with his ass and jogs the ten feet I am in front of him, grabbing my hand as

we walk into my apartment. We barely cross the threshold and Nick is all over me. He pushes me
through the door and has me up against the first wall he sees. He is like an octopus, his hands coming
at me from every direction. He has me pinned against the wall with his groin – which is as hard as a
freaking rock - as he begins to unwrap my dress. We are both so filled with desire that neither of us
realizes that the front door is still wide open. Nick leans over to kick it closed with his foot and I
take those two seconds to admire him. When he leans back toward me, the salacious gleam in his
eyes drives me wild. I put my hands on his chest and rip his shirt wide-open, buttons flying
everywhere, exposing his phenomenal six pack and drool worthy “v.” I just want to lick him from
head to toe.

“Bedroom,” I barely get out.

Nick picks me up like I weigh nothing and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. All I

have left on are my shoes, bra, and panties, and I can really feel how hard he is. His cock is pressing
into my soaked panties, and I am no doubt dampening his slacks being this close. Even though he is
holding all of my weight, he walks effortlessly through my apartment to my bedroom, like he owns the
place.

He places me gently on my bed, my head resting on my pillows, and then heads back down to my

feet. The juxtaposition of his alpha dominance and then being a gentleman has me so desperately
turned on that I begin to squirm.

Nick notices my predicament and moves a little quicker than I think he had originally planned.

He slides my shoes off one at a time, paying special attention to my ankles, kissing them slowly. He
starts to make his way up my thigh, alternating between licking, kissing, and nipping. I moan in agony,

or maybe it’s ecstasy, but either way, I am so hot and bothered I just want him inside of me.

“Please, Nick,” I beg breathily. I arch my back and swivel my hips, showing him what I want.

He smiles and licks his lips, and I think that I am going to explode. “Patience, LaLa. Good things

come to those who wait,” he says, snickering at my impatience.

He continues to spend an excessive amount of time on my calves, thighs, and behind my knees –

if you ask me - but I am not complaining because any attention he pays to my body is welcome. He
finally moves to where I am so fraught for him to land, but he just hovers. He closes his eyes and
takes a deep breath, inhaling my arousal. And that’s when I snap. I lean forward, grab his head and
drag it to me, his whole body following. I just can’t take it anymore.

He has my body completely trapped beneath him, his elbow on each side of my head so not all of

his weight is on me. I kiss him with everything I have, pouring my feelings into his mouth – titillation,
adoration, desperation. I swirl my tongue around his, just the way he likes, then suck. He lets out a
moan, and I know I got to him. I have been hanging on by a thread since having my hand wrapped
around his dick at the cake shop, and now I know he is right there with me, losing control. I continue
to kiss him passionately, running my hands down his back, to his pants. I work my way between our
bodies to unbuckle his pants. As soon as they are loose enough, I use my feet to push them, as well as
his boxer briefs, down by the waistband and all the way down to his knees. I am so focused on
getting him naked, that I don’t even realize that he has managed to unhook my bra. When Nick leans
back a little to take his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, I do the same, getting rid of my
bra, and soaked panties. We are now both completely naked, skin on skin. Fuck.

Nick looks me in the eyes and we are both silent for a minute or so. All you can hear is our

heavy breathing, the smell of sex in the air. “My God, you are gorgeous,” is the first thing he says,
breaking our silence.

“Please, Nick. I need you inside of me. We haven’t had sex in forever. I need you inside me.

Now!” I shout, not wanting to have a conversation.

“I know, Doll.”

I squirm beneath him, trying to press my swollen pussy against his bare cock. “So what are you

waiting for?”

“Are you on birth control?” he asks, barely keeping it together.

“Kind of an inopportune time for this conversation. Don’t ya think?”

“Are you on birth control?” he asks again, and I know I had better answer him before the moment

is lost.

“Yeah, I have an IUD. Why?”

“I am clean. I get tested every six months. But I haven’t been with anyone since our club days.”

My head is not really in this conversation, but it doesn’t escape me that he just admitted to being

monogamous with me, even before I proposed my rules. That being said, I have no idea where he is
going with this, but I counter with my own medical information anyway.

“Okay? I was tested right after Ryan cheated, and haven’t been with anyone other than you,” I

volunteer.

And then he says the most romantic thing to me. Okay, maybe not romantic, but at this moment, I

can’t imagine anything so meaningful. Still looking at me square in the eyes, unwavering, he utters, “I
want nothing more than to be inside of you with nothing between us.”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

Bareback. It’s never even been an option before. I have never screwed a woman without a

condom. Ever. Not that I am screwing Delilah, but that’s all I have ever done – screwed, fucked,
plowed. But tonight…tonight feels different. Something is different. About me. About LaLa. About us.

As soon as Delilah gives me the go ahead, I pull my hips back far enough so that my dick slides

down her soaking slit, along her clit, then swirl my hips a few times, teasing her without mercy. I am
still looking into her gorgeous eyes and the lust - mixed with… what is that? I can’t think about that
now - has dilated her pupils, leaving only golden rings around the dark holes. Sweat is forming
where our bodies are connected and I can’t tell if it is hers, mine, or both of ours mixed together. My
cock is so hard that it is bordering on painful, but the look in her eyes, the desperation and need she
has for me to please her is so exhilarating, that I put my hurt aside and concentrate on her pleasure.

When I am sure that she can’t take anymore, I slide my cock into her inviting pussy. I glide in and

out a few times, until I am completely sheathed. Never having been bare inside of a woman before,
her warm, tight core catches me off guard.

“Don’t move, Doll. This will be over before we start,” I say pathetically.

She doesn’t move below the waist, but she cups my face in her hands and kisses me

languorously, and I moan in to her mouth. I pull away before she has the chance to swirl and suck
because that would be just as devastating as if she pumped my cock. As soon as I feel like I can
continue without embarrassing myself, I start pumping my hips slowly. I turn back to look at her and
her eyes are now closed. Oh, no, that won’t do.

“Eyes on me, LaLa,” I command.

And just like my perfect partner, in bed and out, she takes my direction. Her eyes snap up and

lock onto mine. I continue to propel my cock into her, taking my sweet old time. I lose control a few
times, thrusting harder than I intend, but then slow down again, grinding deep into her holy grail,
causing intense friction on her clit.

Delilah digs her heels into my ass, her way of hinting that she wants it hard and fast, but she is

not in control. I am. Just as it should be. I continue my deliberately slow assault on her core. She
again tries to take over by lifting her hips, trying to meet my thrusts.

“Delilah…” I warn, but she continues to defy me.

“Who’s pussy is this, LaLa?” I ask, straining to hold on to what little control I have left.

“Yours,” she breathes out.

“That’s right, Doll. That’s my pussy. Mine,” I grind out. And at that inopportune time, I realize

that she is in fact mine. That I don’t want to be with anyone else, ever again. Dammit!

I shake my head and focus on the task in front of me - making love to Delilah. What? Fuck! –

having sex with Delilah. Yeah, that’s what I meant.

She is wound so tightly that her hands that used to be holding onto my biceps are now digging in

deeply, leaving welts.

“And who controls your orgasms, LaLa?” I ask. I give her a piercing look, and she knows I am

not kidding. She can’t win here.

“You do, Boss,” she answers, knowing what that does to me.

“Good girl.”

Delilah doesn’t try to take over anymore. Our eyes are still locked on each other, and I can see

in them that even though she thought she wanted control, she is even more turned on by my dominance
over her.

I maintain my leisurely speed, maintaining eye contact, until I feel her core grip my cock tight.

Holy shit, she must be close! If she does that again, I won’t be able to keep my shit together. I don’t
let her look away, even though she tries a few times, and watch as she falls apart beneath me. Her
pussy grabs onto my cock like a vice grip and all I need is to pump a few more times before I unload
my seed deep inside of her.

I collapse down onto her, being the first to break eye contact this time. My face is wedged into

her neck and I can’t help but inhale my favorite smell. After a few deep breaths, I kiss her gently a
few times on her neck, then collarbone. Whether I want to admit it or not, something’s changed
between us, and there is no going back. That was more than just fucking, more than just screwing, and
I am definitely going to need some time to process it all.

I peel myself slowly off her body, both of us slick with sweat and other bodily fluids. We both

decide we want to take showers, but decide to do it separately. I think she needs a little time and
space away from me as well to process what just happened. I tell her to shower first since she has a
lot more clean-up to do. While she is in the shower, I go to the kitchen and grab a couple of bottles of
cold water for us. I head back into the bedroom, waiting there for her to finish.

I lie on my back staring at the ceiling looking for some sort of sign. I don’t know what. Just

something to calm me down. I am feeling a little bit light-headed. Between all of my mixed emotions,
the endorphins, pheromones, and adrenaline… What if she isn’t feeling any of this? What if it’s just
me? Fuck, stop acting like a little bitch! I am just going to shower and go home. We’ve never spent
the night together before, so I’m sure she isn’t expecting me to do it tonight.

Delilah comes out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around her. Her wet hair is slicked

back and her skin is glowing. She looks like an angel. If that isn’t the sign I was looking for, I don’t
know what is.

I jump into the shower and do my thing. When I get out, Delilah is lying in bed on her side, the

comforter pulled back next to her, like she is waiting for me to slip in. I guess I can stay a little
longer. She asks me to shut the lights, and I slide in next to her. I grab her by the waist and pull her
toward me, turning her on her side. I pull her in tight, her back to my front, and we lie there together
in comfortable silence. My cock is nestled between her ass cheeks, and as incredible as it feels, I am
somehow able to tame him long enough to completely relax.

Delilah’s breathing evens out, and I can only assume she is sleeping. I originally planned to head

out once she fell asleep, but lying here with her, naked, spooning, I have never felt so at peace. I
can’t remember ever feeling so protective over someone other than my father. So compelled to make
sure that they are happy. I have only ever worried about myself. No other woman ever has worried
about me, never taken care of me – not before my angel, my Delilah.

I take a deep breath in and blow it out as my body begins to fully relax and sleep starts to take

over. Which is what I assume Delilah took for granted as me being out cold. Because just before I am
completely out, as I am dancing on that cusp of dreamland, she sends me the ultimate sign that I had
been looking for, less than an hour earlier.

“I love you,” she whispers to a sleeping Nick, then passes out cold.

But I am not asleep. And as the sun rises, I realize that I never did.

Chapter Fifteen

Nick

Even though tomorrow night is the charity ball, and I’ve seen Delilah every day for the past nine

days, her words from the night I first slept next to her keep ringing in my head. “I love you,” she said
to me when she thought I was asleep.

She keeps catching me at work, staring off into space, asking what I’m thinking about. I tell her

“nothing,” but in reality, those three little words have taken over my mind. What’s even more
concerning is that I’m fairly sure that I love her back. My life has been completely turned upside
down and inside out by this woman and I can only come up with one reason for that... LOVE. I’m in
love with her. Does that scare the ever-living fuck out of me? Hell fucking yes! But I wouldn’t have it
any other way. I want Delilah in my life. I want her with me…forever. And if that means buckling
down and being with only one woman for the rest of my life, then so be it. As long as it is this
woman. And I think tomorrow night, at the charity ball, will be the perfect place to tell her.

I’m waiting for the inevitable call. I smile to myself. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. It’s

finally the night before the charity ball, and I am having Saks courier Delilah’s dress to her. I know
that she has no idea that I did this for her. My only regret is not seeing her face when she opens it, but
I want to wait until tomorrow to see her in it. I’m sure I will be blown away. I’ve also set up an
appointment at one of the top salons in New York for her to get her hair and make-up done. That is
written on a note inside the box with the dress.

I’m relaxing on my favorite leather chair in my condo, sipping on some red wine – Delilah’s

favorite - when the call comes in. I clear my throat and take a deep breath.

“Hey there, Delilah,” I answer as I normally would.

“Don’t ‘Hey there, Delilah,’ me! What the hell is this?” Delilah squawks into the phone.

I stifle my laughter and ask, “What is what, Doll?”

“This dress! And this note about the salon!”

“What about it?” I reply calmly.

Delilah stutters. “I…wha…why! Why?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I wanted to do something nice for you after all of the work

you’ve done helping me with the charity ball,” I say softly.

Delilah is silent. So silent that I’m not sure if she’s still on the other end of the phone, or if she

hung up on me.

“LaLa? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she replies quietly.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” I ask.

“I just…I never…just, thank you, Nick.”

“You are very welcome, Doll. I can’t wait to see you looking spectacular tomorrow,” I say.

“I can’t believe you did this.” Delilah sighs.

“Well, get used to it because this won’t be the last time I buy you things,” I say with a small

chuckle.

Delilah laughs softly. “I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.”

“That’s okay. I find your reactions quite amusing.”

Delilah barks out a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

“Do you like the dress?” I ask, curious as to what she thinks about what I picked out.

“It’s beautiful, Nick. Thank you again,” Delilah replies.

“And the color is okay?”

I picked a deep red since I absolutely love how Delilah looks in red.

“Love it,” she replies and I can hear the sincerity and smile in her voice.

“Good,” I smile.

We chat for a bit longer before hanging up. I rest back in my chair and sip my wine. Tomorrow is

going to be great, I can feel it. I’m going to have the most gorgeous woman in the world on my arm,
and I am going to be the envy of the party, for sure. I can’t wait to show Delilah off to all of those
stuffy bastards.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I stare at myself in the mirror. Who is this person? Do I know her? No, I don’t think so. She is

seriously hot, though. I’ve just finished putting my dress on. My hair and make-up are already done,
and I must say that the salon did a fabulous job. My hair is beautifully curled and swept over one
shoulder, held in place in the back by some bobby pins. My make-up is flawless and natural looking,
complete with smoky eyes and glossy lips. Since my dress is red, the make-up artist said that red
lipstick would be overkill. Can’t say that I disagree.

The dress is incredible. It’s a bit heavy because it’s covered in beads, but it’s not too bad. It has

a low v-neck line, showing off a lot of cleavage. It’s not exactly an empire waist line but it’s close,
with a sash laying right at the base of my rib cage. The bottom half hangs straight down to the floor. It
has draped cap sleeves, which are covered in shimmering beads that are the same deep red color as
the fabric. I absolutely love this dress and Nick could not have done a better job picking it out.

I finish up by putting on long silver and diamond dangling earrings and a matching silver and

diamond cuff bracelet that Nick said he “borrowed” from Harry Winston. I hope like hell that he
borrowed them because I am not keeping them. They have to be worth hundreds of thousands of
dollars…each. There is no way in hell I can keep them, so I will be making sure that Nick returns
them as soon as this charity event is over.

There is a knock on my apartment door making my heart flutter wildly. He’s here! Oh God, am I

really ready for this? I’ve never been this dressed up in my life. What if Nick doesn’t like the way the
dress looks on me? What if he doesn’t like my hair and make-up? He’s never seen me this done up
before. I take a deep breath, pull up my big girl panties, and start for the door. I have to gather up
some of my dress to walk so I don’t trip. Even with five-inch heels, the dress is touching the floor.
There was no time to get it hemmed, so I am wearing really high heels, and I look a lot taller. That’s
always a plus.

I take another deep breath right before I open the door. My whole world stops. Standing in the

hallway is the most insanely gorgeous man I have ever seen. I swear my heart stops beating and my
lungs stop breathing. Never in my life has one glance at a man affected me so strongly. I hear Nick
inhale sharply, making my eyes snap up to his.

“Good God, Delilah…I’m…I’m speechless. There are no words to describe how spectacular

you look,” Nick says in awe, his eyes wide as he looks me over from head to toe.

I blush madly and give him a shy smile. “Thank you, Nick. You look pretty spectacular yourself,”

I reply.

That’s putting it mildly. The man is dressed to kill and I know all of the women, including me,

will be drooling all over him tonight. His tux is black and tailored to perfection, just like his suits
always are. He’s wearing a white dress shirt and a black bowtie. Very classic, very elegant, very
suave. His dark hair is styled nicely so that it is brushed back off his forehead. So many words come
to mind as I look at him - debonair, dashing, and sophisticated.

“Thank you, Doll. Shall we go?” he asks with a grin and holds out his elbow.

I smirk, grab my black clutch purse off the table next to the door, and take his outstretched elbow.

I lock my door then put my key in my purse. Nick leads me down the hallway to the elevator and hits

the button. As we wait, I can feel Nick staring at me. I glance over at him, catching the look he has on
his face. It’s a look that I can’t quite decipher. The smile is gone and his eyes are…I don’t know, but
there is something in them that I’ve never seen before.

“What is it?” I ask softly.

Nick shakes his head to signify that it’s nothing. I don’t get the chance to push him more because

the elevator opens and the next thing I know, I’m being whisked away in a black stretch limo by the
man I am madly in love with.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

More Delilah…

I glance around the room. There is not one person here that I know. I look over toward the bar

and find Nick talking to a few other men. I smile to myself; he is so handsome. I watch him as he
laughs at something someone says and it’s a genuine laugh, not a fake one. His eyes lift to meet mine,
and he looks at me for a moment then winks before someone else catches his attention.

He turns when a female hand touches his shoulder from behind, giving me a glimpse of the

woman who dares to touch my man.

I suck in a sharp breath when I see who it is. The evil queen bitch, in the flesh. The woman who

single handedly made Thursdays the worst day of the week. The devil whore herself. It is none other
than my boyfriend stealing, backstabbing, Botox loving, ex-boss, Veronica the Bitch. Then it hits me.
I’m talking like full out shovel to the face kind of hit. This is the same Veronica that put this whole
shindig together. The same Veronica that is Nick’s ex-girlfriend. The same Veronica that I accused of
using this party to get back together with Nick. What. The. Fuck.

Nick gives her a smile and I can’t tell if it’s fake or if he is actually happy to see her. He leans

down and she gives him a little peck on the cheek. My hackles rise. There is no fucking way I am
going to let her anywhere near my Nick. I stand up and make my way through the crowd over to them.
I hold my head up high, knowing that I look fucking incredible – hell yeah, I do – and sidle up next to
Nick’s side, sliding my hand across his stomach to show that bitch whose property she just kissed.

Nick glances down at me, a little shocked to see me, but he smiles wide anyway. “Oh, hey there,

Delilah.”

I catch Veronica’s eyes narrow, as she looks me over. I ignore her and smile up at Nick. “Hi,

honey. Did you get my drink yet?” I ask innocently.

“I was just about to,” he replies with a soft smile before bending down to kiss me on the lips. He

then turns back to Veronica. “Veronica, this is my girlfriend, Delilah Sampson. She’s the one who
organized to have all of these wonderful desserts tonight,” he says proudly and I want to kiss him all
over.

Veronica’s mouth drops open and she gapes at me. Yeah, that’s right, suck it, bitch!

“Delilah Sampson? Frumpy, unattractive, Delilah Sampson? You’re kidding with me, right,

Nick?” Veronica scoffs.

Nick frowns. “Do you two know each other?” he asks.

“I used to work for Veronica,” I state, sending her a hate filled glare.

I can see and feel the moment it dawns on Nick as to what I’m talking about. His mouth thins outs

and his body tenses.

“I see,” he says stiffly. “How about that drink, Doll?”

“Sounds good,” I say.

“See you later, Veronica,” Nick says curtly before he leads me down to the other end of the bar.

I glance back at the evil bitch and if looks could kill, she would be a dead woman right about

now. I smile smugly at her before turning back around. Nick and I get our drinks and head back to the

table. He pulls out my chair for me before sitting down himself.

“I’m sorry, Delilah. I had no idea,” he murmurs quietly.

I nod. “I know you didn’t.”

“Listen, forget about her, okay? I want us to have fun tonight. Let’s not let her ruin it,” Nick says

then gives me a quick kiss on the lips.

They come away glossy and I giggle as I use my thumb to wipe the gloss off his full lips. Nick

chuckles. “What? Not my color?”

I laugh as Nick puckers his lips and makes kissing noises. I shake my head at him and roll my

eyes. What a goofball.

The rest of the evening seems to go off without a hitch. We have a few drinks, dance, and laugh a

lot. Nick tells me that I am the envy of the ball, which makes me burst out laughing because it sounds
like something out of a fairytale. He insists that almost every man in the place has had his eyes on me
at one point or another during the night. I find that hard to believe. There are women here who are
much more beautiful than I am.

Veronica keeps her distance all night, which I am glad about. I did catch her giving me dirty

looks a few times, though. Oh well, she’s not my problem anymore. Nick and I take a break from
dancing and I excuse myself to the bathroom. I’m in a stall, having a fantastic time trying to gather up
the back of my dress so that I don’t pee all over it, when I hear the bathroom door open and a couple
of cackling women enter.

“…Nick’s so just trying to make Veronica jealous. There is no way in hell that he would actually

go out with that chick,” one of the women says.

I freeze, half of my dress gathered up in my arms. My heart starts pounding and I hold my breath

so that I can listen to what they are saying.

“I know, right? Veronica says that he’s been begging her to take him back for months now,” the

other one relays.

“Oh yeah? I’m not surprised. Those two were perfect together. Veronica is just making him work

for it now. I’m sure she will take him back.”

“Definitely. She plans on marrying him, so of course she will take him back.”

“You can just see it in his eyes that he wants her back.”

“Absolutely.”

I want to throw up. Could what they are saying possibly be true? No, no, it’s just gossip, that’s

what women do. But there is still part of me that wants to believe them, that wants to doubt myself
and the relationship that Nick and I have. It does seem too good to be true, and I do still find it hard to
believe that a guy as gorgeous as Nick could actually want me. Could he possibly be using me to
make another woman jealous? No. No, he’s not that heartless.

A wave of guilt hits me. I can’t believe that I’m even thinking the worst of Nick like that because

of what a few stupid sluts are saying. He’s been nothing but open and honest with me since we started

dating. Damn Ryan, this is all his fault, totally screwing up the confidence and trust that I should have
with Nick because of what he did.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

Now that Delilah has gone to the bathroom, I take the time to give Veronica a piece of my mind.

The whole situation has been eating at me. What Veronica did to Delilah by sleeping with her
boyfriend and then calling her frumpy and unattractive tonight. She pissed me off big time and I don’t
plan on letting her get away with it.

I spot her over by the doors that lead out to the lobby area, chatting it up with a couple of other

women. I walk over and clear my throat to get her attention. Veronica looks up at me and cocks a
perfectly arched eyebrow in question.

“I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” I say in a business-like manner.

“Sure,” she says flippantly and follows me out into the lobby.

I glance down the hall that leads to the bathrooms. No Delilah, good, I’ll just make this quick.

“Listen Veronica, I really did not appreciate the way you spoke to Delilah earlier…” I start but

Veronica grabs my head and yanks me down.

Her lips crush against mine. My arms flail for a moment before I latch onto her upper arms. I try

to pull away but her nails dig into the back of my head to the point where she would probably draw
blood if I pull any harder. What the fuck is she doing?

I hear a sharp gasp behind me as well as a couple of cackling witches. Shit! Now I know what is

going on and there is no way that this is going to end well. Veronica just set me up. When we broke
up – well, I dumped her – she said that she would get me back for it. I thought that she was over it
because she has been fairly civil whenever we saw each other or spoke due to the charity. Boy, was I
wrong. Veronica finally sheathes her claws and lets out a throaty giggle.

“Oh, Nick, of course I’ll take you back. You don’t have to beg,” she says loud enough for it to

reach Delilah’s ears.

I close my eyes. Motherfucker. I am going to kill this woman. I turn, my stomach rolling when I

see the devastation in her eyes - the disbelief, the grief, the resignation, the mistrust. I open my mouth
to tell Delilah that this is not what it looks like, but she speaks first.

“You bitch!” Delilah spits with utter disgust and hatred as she starts forward, her hands balled

into fists at her side.

Veronica runs her hand down my arm. “It’s not my fault that all of your men would rather be with

me, Delilah,” she says, her snarky tone irritating the fuck out of me.

Then, as if in slow motion, Delilah socks Veronica right in the nose. I wince as I hear the crunch

of bone and the scream of pain. Delilah just broke Veronica’s nose! She is now sitting on her ass,
hand covering her gushing nose as she screams. I can’t help but smile. Holy Catfight! This can be a
chapter in the Adventures of Frump Girl. Shut up, moron. This is serious!

“Nice shot, Doll,” I say before I can think twice. Damn it! That was probably not the best thing

to say.

Delilah turns her furious gaze on me, but now there are tears streaming down her beautiful face.

“How could you?” she whispers.

I can hear the pain in her every word and it breaks my heart. “Delilah, sweetheart, you can’t

honestly believe her,” I rasp.

I take a step toward her, my arms outstretched, but she backs away from me.

Delilah’s eyes search mine. “First, I have those two sluts…” she points to the two women still

standing by the bathroom door, looks of shock on their faces. “…come in the bathroom talking about
how you’ve been trying to get Veronica back and that you are just using me to make her jealous. Then,
when I come out, here you are, kissing her,” Delilah says, the “her” sounding like it is the most
disgusting word in the English language

“It’s a set up, she’s been trying to get me back since I dumped her, I swear to God!” I plead.

“I knew it! I called it when she first asked for your help with the desserts, and you let me go on

and on thinking that I’m just being a jealous asshole, but I was right! I knew there was no way she
would just ask for your help without an ulterior motive. Ex-girlfriends are not that nice.” Delilah
laughs bitterly.

I gape at her for a moment. “I didn’t realize what she was doing…”

“You didn’t pull away from her; you just let her kiss you. Her lipstick is smeared all over your

mouth,” Delilah states, her gaze turning cold and hard.

I use the sleeve of my shirt and scrub Veronica’s lipstick off my mouth. “She was gripping my

head, Delilah. I couldn’t pull away without her nails sinking into my scalp,” I say, trying to show her
with my eyes that I am telling her the absolute truth.

Delilah starts shaking her head slowly. “I don’t know if I can believe you,” she says sadly.

A crowd has now formed around us. A couple of people are helping Veronica and her bleeding

nose, while others are just watching from a safe distance. I reach out to take Delilah’s hand, and
surprisingly, this time, she lets me.

“Doll, I would never do something like this to you. I know how badly it would hurt you. Why on

earth would I want to hurt you like this?” I say, trying to reason with her.

Delilah shakes her head again. “I don’t know,” she whispers, “I need to go.”

She pulls her hand away and starts for the door.

“Let me go grab my coat and…” I start, but she cuts me off, turning back around to me.

“No, I want to be alone,” she says in such a way that I know there will be no changing her mind.

I swallow hard and give her a jerky nod. She stares at me for a moment before turning back

around and walking out. I stand there, staring at the door. What the hell just happened? The anger
slams into me like a ton of bricks. I whirl around and glare at Veronica, who is still sitting on the
floor, but now with a wad of paper towels pressed up to her nose. Her eyes are already turning black
and blue.

“If she leaves me, I am going to make your life a living hell,” I growl.

“She’s a loser anyway. It’s not going to be that big of a loss,” Veronica replies nasally.

Red hazes my vision and I didn’t even realize that I started forward until someone grabs my arm

to stop my motion.

“You fucking cunt! I love her!” I scream at the stupid bitch that may have just ruined my life.

Veronica’s eyes widen slightly. I can see the moment that she actually realizes what she’s done.

She doesn’t apologize, though, and I really don’t expected her to. She has too much pride for that.

“How could you love her and not me? What could she possibly have that I don’t?” Veronica

sneers from behind her wad of paper towels.

“Everything! She is twice the woman you will ever be! You are nothing compared to her!” I

shout at her.

I fight the urge to spit on her as I yank my arm away from whomever it is that has a hold on it. I

go back into the ballroom to grab my tuxedo jacket before storming out of there. Delilah must have
taken a cab because the limo and driver are waiting for me outside. What a fucking disaster!

I get in the limo and the driver asks where to go. I start to tell him my address, but change my

mind and give him Delilah’s instead. I am not going to lose her, not now. I’m in love with her. I
planned on telling her tonight, but then this shit happened and screwed everything up. I scrub my hand
roughly over my jaw in irritation.

I stare out of the window of the limo as we drive. A flash of red catches my eye and I do a

double take. Sonofabitch! I yell at the driver to pull over and as soon as the limo stops, I jump out.

“Are you fucking crazy? You can’t walk around New York City at midnight dressed like that!” I

squawk as I make a beeline right for Delilah, who is walking down the sidewalk in bare feet. Her
heels are dangling from the finger of one hand while she is holding up her dress with the other.

Delilah jumps, her head snapping up to look at me. My chest aches when I see the black streaks

of makeup running down her cheeks and her red nose. Fucking Veronica. Delilah’s initial shock in
seeing me quickly fades and anger replaces it.

“What the hell do you care?” She snarls and shoves past me.

“Delilah, enough! You have to be blind to think that I don’t care about you,” I say, grabbing her

arm before she can walk by me.

“You just kissed another woman in front of me!” she shrieks, almost hysterically.

“She kissed me, dammit! I did not kiss her back! She was just about ready to scalp me if I tried to

pull away!”

“Whatever. It seems to me that all men are just a bunch of liars and I can’t trust any of you.”

Delilah snorts, tugging her arm out of my grasp.

“Bullshit,” I snap. “Can we please just go back to my place and talk this out?”

“I don’t want to talk this out! What I want is for you not to have kissed Veronica!” She yells at

me.

“I didn’t…” I start, but stop myself. We are getting nowhere fast with this. “You know what,

forget it, let’s go,” I say and grab her wrist and start to drag her toward the limo.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Delilah gasps in disbelief.

“I’m not leaving you out here in the middle of the night to get raped, so let’s go,” I say sternly.

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you, you lying, cheating bastard!” She grinds out and tries to

yank her hand away, but I’m not letting her go…ever.

The next thing I know, she has a handful of my hair and is yanking my head back. I cry out in pain

because, goddamn, does that hurt! I stumble backwards, having to let go of her so that I can catch
myself as I fall on my ass. She starts running down the sidewalk in her bare feet. You’ve got to be
kidding me. I sigh as I get up and race after her. I catch up to her in a matter of seconds; her petite legs
are no match for my much longer ones. Plus, her big ole titties are not properly contained and she has
to use one hand to hold them so they don’t go flying out of her dress.

I catch her around the waist, spin her around, and toss her over my shoulder. She screams and

starts kicking her legs. She pounds on my back with her tiny fists. Does she really think that she’s
going to hurt me? I laugh to myself. She’s so cute. I start back to the limo with her kicking and
screaming like a little kid. I give her ass a firm swat, making her yelp.

“Hey!”

“Stop fighting me or there will be more where that came from,” I say seriously.

“Put me down! I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I’ll take my chances on the street,” Delilah

whines.

“You will not, and we are going to work this out,” I say with certainty.

She makes an aggravated noise before jabbing me in the back with one of her heels. I grit my

teeth against the pain and swat her ass again, harder this time.

“Ow!” she says in a mixture of shock and pain.

“You started it,” I reply.

I finally get her back to the limo and dump her onto the backseat before climbing in myself. I slam

the door shut and give the driver my address. I can see his smirk in the rearview mirror and I fight
back my own.

Delilah sits as far from me as she can, her arms crossed over her chest, pout firmly in place. I hit

a button and a solid glass divider rises, closing us off from the driver giving us complete privacy. I
scoot closer to her, trying to get her attention. I need to touch her, so I grab her hand, and she lets me,
but she doesn’t hold mine in return.

“Delilah, sweetheart, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry about what happened tonight. I’m a complete

idiot for not catching onto Veronica’s game sooner. But you have to know that I would never
intentionally hurt you like that. Come on, Delilah. After all that we’ve been through, do you really
think I would throw it all away to kiss her?” I ask calmly, reasonably.

Delilah just sits there, sulking. She blinks at me a few times, but that’s about it. I have no idea

what she’s thinking.

I drop to my knees in front of her. Staring up into her heartbroken eyes, all I feel is agony. The

pain I am experiencing knowing that she is hurting like this because of me is intolerable. I lay my
head on her lap in defeat.

“What do you want from me? I swear I will do anything you want. Just please, Delilah, please

don’t let this ruin everything we have together,” I plead.

Delilah cocks her head slightly and I can see the gears turning in her head. “Anything?” she asks.

“For you, Doll, anything,” I say, not having any idea how much I might actually regret letting

those words leave my mouth.

Chapter Sixteen

Nick

I am still trying to figure out how I got into this position. I don’t give up control for anyone.

I am not exactly sure how she did it, but within minutes of offering her “anything,” I am naked,

“What are you thinking?” she asks, while she starts to strip.

“That I trust you completely,” I tell her, watching her remove her bra.

“And you said that you are willing to do anything, right? Anything to make it up to me… for

hurting me.”

“Yes, anything. Just come closer so I can see you, Doll.”

“Patience, baby. This is my show remember? I am in charge. It would benefit you not to start

with the orders. Cause the more you try to control this, the more I am going to enjoy what I have
planned for you.”

“And what exactly is it that you have planned?”

I can’t stand this anymore. It is torture trying to relinquish control to her. I try to focus all of my

“I think we need to come up with a safe word.”

My eyes snap open to meet hers. “What? What the fuck are you planning that I would need a

safe word?”

“Nick, I am planning to do so many very dirty, very naughty things to you. You are going to ask

that word.”

I look at her, dumbfounded. What could she possibly be planning that she thinks I will beg for it

to end? And who is this girl? My shy and innocent girl. There couldn’t possibly be anything she can
do that I haven’t at least thought of, or tried before. So I humor her.

“Macaroni.”

“Macaroni? That’s your safe word?” she asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah. It is not something I would normally say during sex, and it can’t be mistaken for anything

else.”

“Okay, my Italian stallion, macaroni it is. Are you ready to get started?”

“LaLa, I was born ready.”

We lock eyes, and there is a new spark there I don’t remember ever seeing. She has something

planned and I am beginning to regret this. I am trying to be nonchalant, completely unaffected, but now
I am really getting nervous. Why would she think I need a safe word?

Since my hands are tied to the bed, I can’t move one close enough to rub across my stubbled jaw.

I need a moment to find some peace, so I start humming the chorus of my favorite Plain White T’s
song.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

I can’t believe he is willing to hand over control to me. This may be my only shot, so I am going

all out. I hope he is ready for this – for me.

I have only dreamed about this. Never tried it before. Never been in complete control, been

allowed to do whatever I want. I am so glad that Charlie made me do some “research” before I slept
with Ryan that first time. What I thought was freaky and intense back then, is exactly what I need and
yearn for now. I take a deep breath, center my focus, and channel sexy Delilah. Here she is, in total
control.

Before Nick changes his mind, I tie his arms to his headboard, then bind both legs to his

footboard, one in each corner. He is completely vulnerable, and entirely mine to do whatever I want.
Oh yeah, this is going to be fun!

I strip off my gorgeous gown and carefully chosen undergarments, and crawl my way up his

body, like a lion stalking its prey. Once I get to his chest, I sit up and straddle him, making sure I am
far enough from his face so that he can’t touch me. This may be as much torture for me as it is for
him.

As I am straddling Nick’s chest, I want nothing more but to scooch forward a few inches so his

tongue can reach my sex. But, no, this is not about that. It is about taking control. It is about showing
Nick what it’s like to have it taken away. It’s about the trust he always demands of me, but doesn’t
extend me the same courtesy. It’s about payback. It’s about pleasure. It’s about punishment. It’s about
love.

I tilt forward a little so that my nipples are dangling near his mouth, but still just out of reach.

Nick groans in frustration, pulling on his tethered arms, and it just adds fuel to my fire. I have him
exactly where I want him. I slide my hand under his pillow and pull out a little surprise I have hiding
under there – my silky smooth, shiny silver, bullet shaped vibrator. Yeah, baby! It’s four inches long,
one inch wide, and offers an incredible vibrating sensation with the touch of a button. A girl’s best
friend. And tonight, it’s going to make Nick orgasm like he’s never come before. I’m so glad I
thought ahead and slipped it into my purse when I was switching to my evening bag.

I lean back, placing my left hand on Nick’s knee to support my weight, arching my back so my

boobs perk up. He hasn’t noticed the bullet yet. Holding it in my right hand, I face the tapered pointy
end toward my body. I lean my head back, allowing my hair to drape across his rock hard cock and
he lets out another moan, a little quieter this time. Setting the bullet on my neck, I begin dragging it
south, down past my clavicle, toward my cleavage. I know the exact moment he figures out what I
have in my hand because his thigh muscles tighten and his cock jumps. I continue my path down
between my breasts heading toward my belly button. I let out my own pleasurable sigh as I approach
my pelvic bone, but am abruptly stopped.

“Delilah…” Nick says sternly.

“Yes?” I ask innocently.

“You know how I feel about vibrators,” he grumbles.

“Of course, I do, Boss. When have you ever known me to break a rule?”

“Your orgasms are mine, LaLa. Tied up or not, I am the only …”

I cut him off before he can finish that sentence. We both know that he owns me - and my orgasms.

“Oh, Nicky…poor, lucky, Nicky. You don’t think this itty bitty vibrator is for me, do you?” I say

in my most sultry voice.

“Wha…but…Delilah! No!”

I just smile and laugh. “Now, I promised you that I would be very naughty. And you promised to

let me do anything I want. Are you ready to use your safe word already?”

Nick takes in a deep breath. He closes his eyes and shakes his head in resignation. “Do your

worst. You are not going to get me to safe word. If this is what it takes…”

That’s all I need to hear. I lean back again, but not as far as I was last time. That was really just

for the dramatics of it all. I lean back just far enough that I can slide the bullet past my pelvic bone,
straight into my soaking slit. “Ahhh,” I let out unintentionally, and I feel Nick’s throbbing dick poke
me in my back.

Since I am still straddling him, he has a fantastic view of what is going on, but just to make sure,

I spread my legs wider for him, running the bullet up and down my clit. I am completely exposed, and
the way his breathing has sped up, I am positive he is getting a good show. Thank God it is not turned
on, or I would explode. Just as I start feeling a bit too hoochie, I feel Nick pulling at his arms,
bucking his back a little, trying to break free. That gives me the confidence to go on.

When I finally sit up and pull the bullet out from between my thighs, I am upright and able to look

directly into his eyes. Holy feral animal! His usually bright green eyes are heavy and smoldering
with lust. His jaw is locked tight and I can see his nostrils flaring at the corners. And his breathing
still has not slowed down.

“You need to slow your breathing there, old man. I am just getting started,” I tease.

He just stares at me, and I know he is not able to speak. And if he does, I am afraid he is going to

call this off, so I don’t push my luck.

I lean forward and give him a quick kiss on the lips, not wanting to go too deep yet. Because if I

do, I don’t know if I will have the will power to stop, and I really want to finish this lesson that I
started.

I take the bullet, now soaked in my juices, and run it along his full lips. Before I get the chance to

do it again, he scrunches his lips up to his nose so he can take a deep sniff. “Mmm,” he says giving
me a dirty smirk, and I am as crazed with lust as he is.

“Open your mouth,” I command, and he obeys. Damn, I can get used to this.

I slide the bullet between his lips and let him suck the rest of my sweet juices off of it for a few

seconds. If he only knew that he was lubing it up for what I have planned, I don’t think he would be
this compliant. I just can’t resist him, so I deviate from my plan for a second. No big deal, it’s my
plan anyway.

I remove the bullet from his mouth and kiss him deeply. I start by licking his lips softly, until he

opens wide enough to let me in. I take my time exploring his mouth, enjoying the taste of him, me, and

the beer he was drinking earlier. Damn I can get drunk off him, and not from the beer! I give him a
quick swirl and suck because I know how much he loves it. Nick groans in pleasure, and I almost
think it would classify as a growl, but I don’t linger because I have to get back on track. Things to
do…men to torture. If I do this right, it will be one for the record books.

Just before I pull away, I covertly slip my hand under his pillow again, pulling out the other part

of his surprise. Oh, you didn’t think I was going to do this without lube, did you? I may not have ever
done this, but give me some credit, I’ve done enough “research” to know.

I slither my body down his. Since our bodies are both dry - except maybe for the wet spot I left

on his chest - my movement causes a lot of friction, and when his cock slides between my girls, I
hear Nick gasp. Pleased by how much I affect him, I allow him a few more strokes, continuing to rile
him up. I want him as turned on as possible for where I am headed.

I continue to slink down a few more inches so that my entire body is between his legs. I am still

on my stomach, arms leaning over his thighs, face to face with his penis. While I am out of his line of
vision, I get myself prepared with the lube, so I am ready when the right moment strikes.

Even though I had no intention to, I just can’t resist, so I allow myself a little taste. I flatten my

tongue and take a long, slow lick on the underside of his cock, from base to tip. Nick lets out a little
growl, and I can’t help but allow myself a little more. I suck on his head for a moment, just the tip,
swirling my tongue in his favorite motion, then let it out with a pop. I giggle at the noise, but Nick
doesn’t seem amused. I lick back down, taking the same route I did on the ascent, this time stopping at
his balls. Oh, yeah! I love these suckers. They are the perfect distraction.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

Can your balls explode? No, really. Is it physically possible to be so turned on and unable to

release that your dick falls off and your balls explode? Because that’s how I feel right about now.

Delilah hasn’t fucking moved in what feels like forever, although it’s probably only been about

thirty seconds or so. I stretch my neck up and out to see if I can see what’s going on down there
between my legs. It’s taking a lot to not just say “macaroni,” and call it. I am way too exposed and
vulnerable for my liking and being tied like this forces me to give up my favorite thing - control.
Well, maybe not my favorite thing anymore. My second favorite thing. My new favorite thing?
Delilah. And she’s worth every second of this torture.

When I look down toward her, I can’t see too much. I see her luscious ass sticking up in the air.

It is so pale and curvy and perfect that I just want to grab it and pull it against my body while I take
her from behind. But that’s going to have to wait. Dammit! I am hard enough as it is, I don’t need to
add these thoughts to it. I can also see parts of her face. She still has tear tracks stained on her face. I
am such a dick. And her lip gloss is smudged across to a cheek. That must be from kissing me
earlier. Either that or from when she was teasing me and licking my cock. I can tell you what it’s not
from. It’s not from her sucking on my cock. Because if she was in fact sucking on my cock, I wouldn’t
be having thoughts of exploding balls.

Speaking of balls, holy mother of Jesus! I think she is blowing on mine right now. I feel a warm

sensation that I have never felt before. I don’t think another woman has ever taken the time to give
any special attention to my boys down there. It is such a different sensation, but really good. My dick
throbs and jumps a few times, and my ass cheeks clench.

Next thing I know, Delilah sucks one of my nuts into her mouth, and my body involuntarily jerks.

I let out a laugh, but it is definitely not funny.

“Everything alright up there?” she asks with her mouth full.

I gyrate my hips a few times, my cock so jealous. “Yeah, baby, don’t stop.”

She continues sucking on my sack, and then I feel her finger draw a line down to my anus. I feel

her circle around my puckered skin, stopping to put pressure on it, but not entering. Her other hand
appears from out of nowhere and begins stroking my neglected cock. I am so crazed that I don’t mind
the added pressure down there. In fact, it is adding to my excited state.

That is until she breaches my back door, inserting something. A finger maybe? I have no idea

because one, I can’t see a thing, and two, I have never had anything in me down there before, so I
can’t gauge what it is. All I know is that it is tight as fuck!

When she pushes in a little further, my back involuntarily arches off the bed, my ass cheeks

clench, and all of my muscles tighten.

“Delilah…” I warn.

She releases my family jewels, looking up at me with a wicked smile.

“Yea, baby?” she asks, knowing full and well what she is doing.

“That’s an exit only.”

“You know what to say if you want this to end. Otherwise, relax your body. It won’t hurt if you

just let it go. ”

Delilah knows that there is no way I am going to safe word. She laughs briefly, sounding

borderline maniacal, and I take a deep breath, trying to do as she says and relax. I lay my head back
on the pillow and continue to breathe deeply. I still feel the pressure inside of me, but as she
continues to stroke my cock, the combined feelings of pressure and fullness begin to rile me up again.

She begins sliding the well-lubed item back and forth and every time she gets to a specific angle,

I feel my body tremble. I can feel an orgasm forming in the base of my spine, and my balls are
beginning to tighten. She must be able to tell – I’m sure my moaning didn’t help my cause - because
she slows her rhythm down just enough to keep it at bay. I bite out a string of curse words, but it does
nothing to ease my aching balls. When she is satisfied that I lost my orgasm, and with my body on high
alert, she hits a little button, and it takes me a few seconds to realize what is happening.
Motherfucking cocksucker! That witch has the bullet in my asshole!

I kick my legs a few times but she has them tied too tightly; plus, she is leaning on them, so they

are of no use. I buck my hips, hoping that could help to expel the bullet, but she is holding it with one
hand, and it doesn’t even budge. I can feel my insides quivering, and I have no idea what’s happening
to me.

“LaLa, please. What are you doing?”

“It’s okay, Nick. Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down. What the fuck are you doing to me? I feel like I am going to explode from

the inside out!” I shout at her.

“The vibrator is massaging your prostate. The feeling you are experiencing is normal. It’s

probably the closest you will ever get to experiencing what women do when they orgasm.”

Delilah continues her assault on my prostate and my only choice is to try to enjoy all that she is

giving me. She will pay for this later. As she slides the bullet around, my orgasm begins to form
again. A tingling begins at the base of my spine again and my balls tighten and release repeatedly. I
have never experienced this heightened pleasure before, and a few times, I feel like I am going to
shoot my load all over the place, but nothing comes out. What the hell? Not a minute too soon, Delilah
takes my entire cock in her mouth, down to my balls, and I am done. D-O-N-E done. I slam my head
back into my pillow, my eyes roll into the back of my head, and I shoot a load so big, for so long, I am
almost afraid of drowning her.

As I am coming down off what may be described as my best, most incredible orgasm ever, I

realize that my body is shaking. Literally shaking. When I finally open my eyes, I see the love of my
life, and know now, more than ever, without any doubt, that I am meant to spend the rest of my life
with her.

She has a beautiful smile on her face, a calmness surrounding her. She is proud of herself. I

chuckle to myself, still reveling in my earth-shattering discovery, that I have found my “one.” I am
brought out of my love fog, when my body screams at me to deal with what she is doing. Although she
removed the bullet without me even noticing, she is still stroking me. As in never stopped. As in
rubbing the head of my ridiculously sensitive cock, which feels like every nerve is exposed. Spikes

start shooting through my dick and I wail.

“LaLa, baby, please, you have to stop now!”

She just continues torturing me, her expression never changing.

“Please, baby. I can’t take anymore. It’s too much.”

She doesn’t stop. She has one hand wrapped around my shaft; the other is flat, making lazy

circles around my tip. I think I am going to pass out. I beg a few more times, hoping she will take pity
on me, but she just continues, slowly, and painfully.

“Rule number one,” she bites out, her grip tightening.

I must be losing my mind because I have no idea what she is talking about.

“What?” I yell louder than I intended, but I am losing control. I turn my hips away from her, but

she doesn’t let go.

“What’s rule number one, Nick?” she asks again, sounding a little angry, and it finally dawns on

me. Fuck! She is punishing me still for kissing the Bitch.

“No other women,” I answer in resignation.

Delilah doesn’t say anything else. Her silence speaks for itself. And to be honest, I don’t want

her to say anything. I fucked up. She knows it, and I know it. I broke rule number one and I broke
her trust. I have no excuse. I should have seen it coming. Delilah even warned me, but I
underestimated the Bitch’s level of crazy. I hope submitting myself to her, helps me gain back the trust
that I lost. Or at least puts me on the right road to recovery.

Delilah finally releases my poor dick. Although, as much as she tortured it, I still have solid

wood - only for her. Before I know it, she is sitting upright, hovering over my cock. No, no, no, I
can’t take anymore. Delilah takes no prisoners. She angles herself perfectly and impales herself onto
my cock. We both inhale sharply at the same time and lock eyes.

“Untie me, Delilah,” I command, and this time I mean it.

She shakes her head “no,” and I pull at them trying to free myself.

“Last time, Delilah. Untie me. I need to touch you. I need to taste you. I need to make you come.”

Delilah ignores me, instead rocking back and forth on my cock, trying to find her release. That’s

it! I can’t take it anymore! I give one more quick tug, and the knots break free. I sit up quickly so that
we are chest to chest, her soaking pussy still grinding into me. I put my hands on her shoulders,
placing a little added weight so that she falls deeper onto my junk. When I have her at the perfect
angle, I drag one hand down to her clit and squeeze a little. It only takes seconds for her pussy to
clamp down onto my cock and she goes off like a rocket. Her whole body starts to quake, and she is
so beautiful that I come again with her.

She collapses against me, and I just hold onto her as tight as I can. The thought that I almost lost

her tonight hits me and panic sets in. Between my earlier revelation and my current state of
uncertainty, I am a mess. You’re pussy whipped is what you are. I know what I need to do. What I
want to do.

I pull Delilah away from me so I can look into her eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” I say and I mean it wholeheartedly.

She looks away from me and I see the blush starting to creep up her neck. How can she be shy

with me after all that we just did? I bring my hand up to her chin and tilt it toward my face, forcing
her to make eye contact.

“Look at me,” I say until I know I have her full attention. “I am so sorry. It will never happen

again. Never. You have my word.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asks, and it is a totally valid question.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and look her dead in the eyes. “Because I love you.”

Delilah’s eyes widen and she shakes her head slightly. Suddenly, the biggest smile I have ever

seen swallows her face.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to get out of the doghouse?” she asks, but I can tell she

knows I mean it.

I bring both of my hands to her face cupping it gently. “Really, really. I love you with all of my

heart,” I state emphatically, then place a sweet kiss on her lips.

“I love you too, Boss,” she says with the most gorgeous smile on her face.

All I can do is sit here like a goofy kid who just asked the head cheerleader to prom and she said

yes.

Delilah searches my eyes and can tell there is something else I am thinking. She knows me so

well. “What?”

“Nothing. You just make me so happy,” I lie. Not about her making me happy, because I can’t

remember ever feeling this wonderful, but about holding back something.

“Bullshit, Nick. I know you. Out with it,” she prods.

I search her eyes again, scared as hell to ask. Worst she can say is no, right?

Chapter Seventeen

Delilah

Nick asked me to move in with him. I told him I’d think about it. Of course I’m going to, but he

needs a little bit more punishment after kissing that slutbag Veronica. So, he’s going to have to wait
for my answer. He also told me that he loves me. I couldn’t believe it, but damn, am I happy. After
everything that has happened in my life, it’s the last thing that I expected to happen. Nick Santino is in
love with me, Delilah “Frump Girl” Sampson. Well, I guess I’m not exactly “Frump Girl” anymore,
am I? I’m hot and sexy Delilah now. Nick, though, loves me for being me. I could still be “Frump
Girl” and he’d be in love with me. How lucky can one girl get?

I string Nick along for a few more days with the whole moving in thing. He keeps asking if I’ve

made a decision and I keep telling him that I’m still thinking. I can see that he’s getting anxious and
irritated, and I am loving every minute of it.

I decide to put Nick out of his misery by Thursday. I went out the night before and put together a

gift basket for him. It was full of feminine things that are going to go into our bathroom. Ours! Sigh.
Stuff like lotions, soap, girly pink razors, tampons, facial masks, zit cream, nail polish and remover, a
candle, and last but not least - something I will never use, but is funny as hell – a douche.

I set it on his desk with a note saying “Be prepared” for when he walks into his office this

morning. He walks in right on time, stopping next to me. He gives me a soft kiss on the lips as I hand
him his coffee. We may be together now, but at the office, we try to keep our usual routine, with the
bonus of a morning kiss. If it ain’t broke…

“Hey there, Delilah,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Morning, Boss,” I smile.

He gives me one more kiss before heading into his office. He leaves the door open so I can hear

the moment when he sees the basket. He mutters a “What the…” then starts cracking up. I smile and go
stand in the doorway to his office. Nick turns around, his eyes shimmering with amusement.

“This means you’re moving in with me, right?” he asks in confirmation.

I give him a soft smile and nod. Nick whoops and closes the distance between us. He scoops me

up in his arms and swings me around before covering my mouth with his and kissing me soundly. We
exchange “I love yous,” and kiss again. Nick puts me down then goes to the basket to look at it more
closely.

“So, this is all the stuff that’s going to invade my bathroom?”

“Mostly, but some of it is just for shits and giggles.” I smirk.

Nick chuckles.

“So, I was thinking…since we’re in love and all that, maybe we should meet each other’s dads?

Maybe have them over for dinner one night soon to our place?” I ask.

Nick smiles fondly down at me. “Of course, Doll. And, yes, it is our place. I think that sounds

like a great idea. My dad is going to love you.”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

More Delilah…

A week later, I say goodbye to my apartment and move into Nick’s luxurious three-bedroom

condo. We invite our fathers over for dinner a week after I move in. They should both be here any
minute and my stomach is fluttering with nerves. This will be the first time meeting Nick’s dad, and
I’m a bit afraid that he won’t like me. Nick is positive that he will love me, but I can’t help the doubt
that lingers in my mind.

I decide on an Italian menu, mainly because I am really good at cooking Italian food. It has

nothing to do with my Italian Stallion. Purely coincidental. Of course, for starters, we have to have a
salad with homemade dressing. Nick is working on that at the moment. Then for the main course, I am
making my famous three-meat, three-cheese lasagna with a side of garlic bread using Italian bread,
naturally. The smell in the condo is out of this world. The combination of the lasagna and the garlic
bread has me salivating. I asked my dad to pick up some cannolis on his way over for dessert. My
mom always told him never to enter another person’s home empty handed.

I’m checking on the lasagna when there is a knock at the door. I jump, making Nick - who is

standing behind me putting the salad together - chuckle. He turns, gives my shoulders a squeeze then
heads for the door. I straighten up, smooth my hands over my dress, make sure that my boobs are
appropriately covered, flip my hair over my shoulders, and take a deep breath. As I start for the door,
I hear Nick laugh heartily. When they come into view, I see him, and who I’m guessing is his father,
hugging and slapping each other on the back. My breath catches when they break apart because I now
know what Nick is going to look like when he is in his sixties - just as, if not even more gorgeous. I
obviously didn’t know him twenty years ago, but man did he age well! Nick smiles brightly at me and
motions me forward. I smile tentatively and move toward the two men.

“Delilah, this is my dad, Anthony,” Nick introduces.

“Mr. Santino,” I say and hold out my hand.

“Please, hun, call me Tony,” he smiles warmly as he shakes my hand.

I nod and return his smile. “Okay.”

Nick slings an arm over his father’s shoulder as he leads him into the condo and shuts the door.

Not a minute later, there is another knock. This time, I answer it. My dad greets me with a warm smile
and a big hug.

“Hi, sweetie,” my father says.

“Hi, Daddy,” I reply.

We turn toward Nick and his dad. “Dad, this is Nick and his father, Tony. Nick, Tony, this is my

father, Rick Sampson.” I introduce them to each other.

After everyone shakes hands and says hello, we move into the eat-in kitchen where Nick pours

everyone a glass of wine. As the conversation starts to flow, and everyone is laughing and joking, I
am slowly able to relax. Everything is going to be okay.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

The evening is going great. My dad and Rick are getting along fabulously, as are Rick and I. He’s

a decent looking older man with glasses. His hair is pure white, he’s getting a bit rounded in the mid-
section, and he’s only a few inches taller than Delilah. Delilah must look more like her mother
because the only trait she got from her father is her eyes. They have the same exact eyes. Other than
that, they look nothing alike.

Delilah excuses herself to use the bathroom, so I’m sitting here with my father and Rick. A

thought strikes me out of nowhere and I realize that I need to take advantage of the situation in front of
me. I glance down the hall to make sure that the bathroom door is still closed before turning to Rick.

“Rick, I need to make this quick before Delilah comes back…” I say in a hushed voice. Rick

smirks and raises a curious eyebrow at me as he waits for me to continue. “…I love your daughter
with my whole heart and soul, and I want to be with her for the rest of my life. With your blessing, I’d
like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

My dad laughs heartily and claps me on the back. “Good man. Glad to see that I raised you

right.”

Rick chuckles, his hazel eyes warm. “If you believe that you are the man to make my daughter

happy for the rest of her life, then you definitely have my blessing,” he says sincerely.

“I will absolutely make her happy for the rest of her life,” I say with confidence.

I hear the bathroom door open and the click of Delilah’s heels on the hardwood floors. I smile as

she walks up behind me where I’m sitting at the table and slides her hand across my shoulder to rest
on the back of my neck. I look up at her and she smiles sweetly down at me.

“What’d I miss?” she asks.

“Nothing special,” my dad says with a shrug.

Both Rick and I fight to keep from laughing and Delilah narrows her eyes at us. She lets it go,

though, and sits down next to me. Her hand moves from my neck to my thigh and she starts talking
about something - I don’t know what, I’m not really listening – but my eyes are locked on her
beautiful face. That’s the face of an angel. The face of my future wife. My heart feels like it is ready
to burst and I fight the urge to ask her to marry me right then and there. I am going to make it special,
something that she will never forget.

After our fathers leave, we clean up the kitchen together before going to the bedroom to get into

some more comfortable clothes. I pull on a pair of sweatpants while Delilah slips into one of my old
t-shirts. She sighs contently and shoots me a happy smile.

“That went much better than I expected,” she says.

“Eh, I knew it would be great,” I say with a shrug, and I did; I knew it would be an awesome

night.

Delilah rolls her eyes and shakes her head. I go to her and wrap her up in a tight hug. I just love

the way she feels in my arms. She hums her approval and strokes the back of my head.

“I have to go to Harry Winston tomorrow morning to return the jewelry that I borrowed for you.

Do you want to come with me?”

Delilah pulls back and gives me a look. “Uh, yeah! That’s a stupid question. What girl wouldn’t

want to go to Harry Winston?”

“A stupid one?” I reply, even though I know it was a rhetorical question.

Delilah snorts. “Damn right, a stupid one.”

“And you are far from that, my love,” I murmur as I lean down to kiss her softly on the lips.

Delilah sighs and melts against me. I slide my hand down her back to cup her ass and pull her

more firmly against my ever-growing erection. I can’t help but get a boner every time her body
presses against mine. I move down to kiss her neck and Delilah lets out a breathy moan.

“You are such a horn ball,” she mutters halfheartedly.

“Yeah, but you love it,” I breathe against her neck.

Delilah’s response is a moan as she snakes her hand in between us to cup me through my

sweatpants. Now it’s my turn to moan. I back her up until her legs meet the end of the bed. We fall
onto the bed in a tangle of limbs as our mouths find each other. I make sure to show her just how big
of a horn ball I really am.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick again…

The next morning, we head over to Harry Winston so I can return the jewelry that I borrowed for

Delilah to wear to the charity ball. It should have been returned last week; in fact, they called me to
find out where it was. I told them that I have been super busy and promised to return it this weekend.
So here we are.

I tell Delilah to take a look around while I meet with one of the managers to take care of the

return. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she wanders around. Naturally, she gravitates
toward the engagement rings. I think that’s the one thing that every woman on this Earth has in
common. Enter a jewelry store, go straight to the sparkling diamonds.

As soon as I’m finished, I head over to Delilah to see what she’s looking at. I come up behind

her, wrap my arms around her tiny waist and drop my chin to her shoulder. Delilah turns her head and
kisses me on the cheek.

“Anything good?” I ask.

Delilah sighs. “They are all so beautiful.”

“Yes, they are, but they are not as beautiful as you,” I whisper in her ear.

Delilah giggles. “Thank you, even though that was so cheesy.”

I laugh.

A sales woman comes over a moment later. “Would you like to try something on?”

Delilah starts to say no, but I interrupt her. “Absolutely, can we see a few of these?” I say,

pointing to the engagement rings behind the glass.

Delilah gapes up at me. “What?”

“Come on, you know you want to,” I say with a shit-eatin’ grin as I move to her side.

The sales woman also grins and nods in agreement.

“Okay.” Delilah breathes, her eyes wide and glittering with excitement.

I watch Delilah’s face as the sales woman pulls out a few rings for her to try on. She looks like

the fat kid in Willy Wonka when he first sees the chocolate river, or like Ralphie when he gets his
Red Rider BB gun, and I am loving every minute of it. I keep a close eye on her reaction to each one
as she tries them on, hoping to gauge which one is her favorite. I end up not needing to hope because
she ends up telling me unwittingly. The first one she tries on is the winner.

“Oh. My. God. Nick. How stunning is this ring? I think I can die happy, just from trying this ring

on,” Delilah gushes.

I drag my eyes away from her dancing eyes and look down at her finger. It’s a cushion-cut three-

carat diamond with probably another carat in smaller diamonds surrounding the center stone and
around the platinum band. It has perfect color and clarity, and it just so happens to fit her perfectly.

“It is absolutely stunning, Doll,” I murmur while making eye contact with the sales woman.

She raises an eyebrow in question at me and I give her a subtle nod, letting her know that I want

the ring. She gives me a smile in return and lets Delilah try on a couple more. None of the other rings

elicit the same kind of reaction from her, so I know the first one is “the one.”

After the sales woman puts all of the rings away, I tell Delilah that I need to use the bathroom

before leaving. I head down the hallway, knowing that the sales woman won’t be too far behind. I
stop and turn outside of the men’s room, in case I have to quickly duck and hide, if Delilah decides
she needs to go, too. The sales woman turns the corner a minute later and walks calmly in my
direction.

“Shall I put the ring aside for you, Mr. Santino?” She asks.

“Yes, I’ll come pick it up as soon as I can get away without it being suspicious,” I say quietly.

“Shall I put it on the credit card we have on file for you?”

“Yes, please. Thank you,” I say with a smile.

“You are most welcome, Mr. Santino, and congratulations,” she chirps before heading back out

toward the front of the store. That was probably the easiest commission she has ever made.

I wait another minute before returning to Delilah’s side. We debate on a place to grab lunch

before finally settling on a quaint little deli that we both enjoy. As we’re sitting in my car at a red
light, it hits me what I just did. Holy shit! I just bought an engagement ring for Delilah! Wow. I never
thought this day would come. And I certainly never expected it would be with Delilah. But love is
funny like that - you just never know when it’s going to come up and bite you on the ass. A car honks
its horn from behind me making me realize that I have spaced out. Apparently, so did Delilah because
she jumps in her seat at the sudden noise. We glance at each other and smile. God, I cannot wait to
make this woman my wife.

Chapter Eighteen

Nick

Two parties in one. That’s the plan. Pulling it off without Delilah finding out is a whole other

story. The first half is going to be a birthday party. Then as the clock strikes midnight, my birthday
girl is going to turn into my fiancée. Knock on wood, bite my tongue, God willing.

I know where Charlie works, so I take a chance and call her there one day when Delilah runs out

to pick up our lunch. She is completely on board with the surprise. So, I put Charlie in charge of the
invitations, since she has access to all of her friends and family. I make sure that she has the contact
information for my father and Carmella, and a few other friends that I would like to be there for the
second half. I know they are all going to want to be there to witness this. Also, I ask her to take
care of the music. I have something specific in mind, and if anyone can get it done, I know Charlie
can.

I call in a favor with Donna at Delectable Desserts, and Fronk is going to make her a spectacular

birthday cake. He tried to pull the whole “I only do for happy couples” bullshit that he got away with
Delilah, but I’m not having any of it. We paid a fuckload of money for that charity ball, and he totally
blew us off at that initial meeting. Not that I minded because that afternoon opened my eyes to a brand
new side of Delilah, but still, I let him know his reputation could be shot to shit if he doesn’t do this
for my girl. Needless to say, he changes his tune quickly. I am not the top negotiator in the state for
nothing.

Lastly, I talk Calvin into closing a little early so we can use Club Masquerade as the venue. Not

only is it the first time he has ever closed early, which will cost his bottom line tremendously, but this
is also the first time anyone will be allowed inside without a mask. He doesn’t know it yet, but I
intend to compensate him handsomely for the revenue he is going to lose.

Carmella is going to help me with the caterer and the decorations. That shouldn’t be too difficult

because the Firm has thrown enough parties to have a rolodex full of people willing to work with us,
even with the short notice.

Now, the tricky part. Keeping my big trap shut long enough to surprise Delilah. And keeping this

ring from burning a fucking hole in my pocket.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

One year ago today was probably the worst day of my life – until my mother died, of course.

Doesn’t that put life into a little prospective? I can’t believe how much I have been through since
then. How far I have come, and what a different place I am in my life. I guess people really do come
into your life for a reason.

I am sitting in our living room waiting for Nick. He’s like a chick, always the last one ready. He

told me to wear a party dress, but wouldn’t tell me any more than that. Normally, I don’t like
surprises, but Nick has never disappointed me with them in the past, so I am going to try to relax and
enjoy what he has in store for me tonight.

He is finally ready and is as handsome as ever wearing all black – button down shirt and slacks.

He isn’t wearing a tie, and his shirt is unbuttoned at the top, just enough to see the dip at the base of
his neck, and I am so tempted to lick it.

“Hey, handsome. Don’t you look sexy tonight.” I walk up to him and give him a kiss. I can’t

resist - screw the lipstick, I can reapply. Just being around him makes me want to jump his bones.

“Hey there, Delilah. How’s my favorite birthday girl doing?” He grabs my hand, twirls me

around then whistles. “As gorgeous as ever. I am one lucky son of a bitch.”

We spend the next few minutes admiring one another. Nick finally breaks our spell by telling me

that we are going to be late. I have a punctuality issue, so that just won’t do. I don’t care if it’s my
birthday or not. I don’t like to be late. Anywhere. Period. Enough said. I grab my purse and follow
him out to the McLaren.

“You gonna tell me where we are going?” I finally ask, unable to be patient anymore.

“We just need to stop at Club M for a minute. Calvin needs me to pick up a contract that I

promised I would review for him. Then to our final destination,” Nick replies, wagging his
eyebrows. “Is that okay?” he asks, grabbing my hand and pulling it up to his mouth to kiss.

I sigh at his romantic gesture. “Sure, of course. I always enjoy seeing Calvin. Besides, it’s been

awhile since we’ve stepped foot in Club M. It will be nice to reminisce,” I say softly, watching his
profile change from soft and relax to pensive. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing, Doll. Just a little nervous. I hope you like your birthday present.”

“Oh, Boss. You know I will love anything you give me because it will be from you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Nick

I can’t believe we pulled it off. Delilah is so surprised when everyone jumps out from the dark

room. She is laughing so hard that I’m afraid that she is going to pee in her pants! After she finally
calms a bit from the initial shock, she is able to fully take in her surroundings, noticing all of the
people who came to celebrate with her. To celebrate her.

I watch Delilah all night, flitting from one group of people to the next, making sure that

everybody is having a good time. She is just so perfect. As midnight strikes, her birthday is
officially over, and today marks one year from the day we met. Show time.

I cross the room with purpose - to get my girl. She is chatting and laughing with a group of her

girl friends, but as I approach there is radio silence. Oh come on ladies, you don’t have to make it
that obvious that you are talking about me.

Delilah and I lock eyes and the contented look on her face is all I want to look at for the rest of

my life. Knowing I put it there is just icing on the cake.

“Hey there, Delilah,” I greet her with a full heart.

“Hi, Boss,” she responds shyly.

“It’s just after midnight. Your birthday is officially over.”

“Yes, it seems that you would be correct,” she replies and my cock stirs from her sarcasm.

Damn, she’s got me hook, line, and sinker.

“You know what today is?”

“How could I forget the day I met my Italian stallion?”

I lean my head back and let out a hearty laugh, almost a bark.

“Italian stallion, huh? I thought I heard you call me that the night of the ball. I was in such a haze

I didn’t ask,” I say still chuckling.

“It may or may not be my nickname for you.” She shrugs.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, Doll. Just as long as it’s me you’re calling.”

I lean down and give her a passionate, but quick kiss. I haven’t had my hands on her all night and

it is driving me nuts.

“Dance with me,” I command rather than ask.

“But there’s no music?”

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

Delilah

Nick grabs my hand and drags me to the dance floor. As he leads me through the crowd of

people – all of my people – I take the time to admire him. Holy hell, he only gets better with age! I
can’t believe he took the time to plan all of this for me. What’s more, I can’t get over the fact that he
was able to pull it off and surprise me. I am so in love with him.

As we step onto the dance floor, Nick grabs me by the waist and pulls me tight against his body.

My favorite place to be. Okay, one of my favorite places. I hear everyone start clapping, and I am
confused. I look into his eyes, and I am sure the expression on my face was asking him, “Huh?” In
response, he spins me around, and out of nowhere, a band takes the stage. I must have been in a Nick
induced lust fog to have missed that!

The lead singer takes the mic and says, “Never thought I’d be saying this to anyone else, but this

one goes out to Delilah.” And then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit! The Plain White
T’s. Here. At my party. The Plain White T’s. As they begin playing the intro to my song – our song
- I am stunned and frozen in place. I can’t move.

Nick takes the lead, grabbing me once again, this time to start dancing. As I come back from my

zone out, I hear the beginning notes to our song, and I am in heaven. There is no other place I would
rather be. I look into Nick’s eyes, and they are lit in delight. I don’t think I can be happier than I am
right at this exact moment, until he tops himself. He pulls me in closer, my body flush against his. He
leans down slightly, his mouth by my ears, and he sings along to the song, “Hey there Delilah…”

Nick continues singing the rest of the song, tears of joy rolling down my face. When the song

finally ends, he leans back a few inches, grabbing my chin so I look up at him.

“Are you ready for your birthday present?”

“What? There’s more? I don’t think I can handle anything else!” I laugh, but am completely

serious. He has outdone himself.

“I still owe you a birthday present.”

“Baby, this party was enough. You, are enough. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Without another word, Nick drops down to one knee. The music stops, and I think everyone is

staring, but I honestly couldn’t tell you. Because all I can see, all I can focus on, is my beautiful man,
my perfect man - my Italian stallion – down on bended knee. He looks up at me and grabs onto my
hands. He is shaking and my earlier tears of joy are rolling down my face.

“Before I met you, I had everything I ever needed. At least I thought I did. I was good at my job,

had a great condo, enjoyed easy friendships, and a healthy social life. Then one day, exactly one year
ago today, you walked into my life and changed me forever.”

Nick pauses to take a breath. He smiles at me, shaking his head slightly like he is remembering

something. “We got to know each other without all of the normal social pressures. Unconventional
maybe, but perfect for us.”

I hear a few people chuckle in the background. It must be Charlie and Calvin because nobody

else knows our true story.

He continues. “Now, with you in my life, Doll, I no longer live to work, I work to live. I’ve

come to realize that the man makes money, money doesn’t make the man. And you’ve taught me that
the love of a good woman, the right woman...you...is more important than any material possession or
any professional achievement that I could have ever dreamed of. You, my love, are my weakness -
my downfall, my Delilah.

I see a tear escapes from Nick’s eye, and I am barely able to contain myself. I desperately need

to hold him, but I also know that I need to let him finish.

Nick reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a Harry Winston Box. Oh my God, oh my God,

oh my God! He opens it towards me, and I gasp in surprise. My right hand flies up to cover my
mouth, as he is holding tightly onto my left. It’s the ring. The exact one I was looking at the day we
went to drop off the loaned jewelry from the ball. I can’t believe he bought it.

He doesn’t give me a minute to over think anything - boy, does he know me – and carries on.

“Delilah Rose Sampson. I promise to love, honor, and cherish you, every minute of every day for the
rest of my life. Would you do me the honor of sharing the rest of your life with me and becoming by
wife?”

I drop down to my knees, sobbing like an idiot. I jump into his arms, practically knocking him

over. “YES! Yes! Of course I will marry you!” I scream into his ear, and I hear people applauding in
the background. Oops, I forgot there were people even here.

Nick peels me away from him by the shoulders, searching my eyes. “Really?” he asks, his voice

cracking with emotion.

“Absolutely,” I assure him. I lean in to kiss him, but it is way too brief for my liking.

He grabs me again and slams my body against his, holding me so tightly that I can hardly breathe.

I feel his body begin shaking, and I realize he is sobbing into by neck. I hold onto him, reassuring him
that I am not going anywhere. I rub his back a few times, and feel his body begin to relax. I kiss his
temple, and he puts a few inches between us.

“Hey there, Delilah,” he says with the most beautiful smile and his gorgeous emeralds shining.

“Yeah, Boss?”

“New rule,” he states, “I never want to spend another day away from you. We go to sleep

together every night, and we wake side by side every morning.”

“And we always say ‘I love you,’” I add, making sure to never go another day without him

knowing how madly in love with him I am, and him doing the same.

♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ The End ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫ ♩ ♫

About the Authors

Stay tuned for book #2 in a Taboo Love series

by M.D Saperstein & Andria Large

Charlie’s story

For more information on future books, come find us!

M.D. Saperstein

www.facebook.com/MdSapersteinAuthor

www.goodreads.com/author/show/7134215.M_D_Saperstein

Andria Large

www.facebook.com/AndriaLargeAuthor
http://kafelarge.wix.com/author-andria-large
www.goodreads.com/author/show/7032815.Andria_Large

Andria is currently working on a new series named Renegade. Look for it soon! Meanwhile, go

check out her already successful series, The Beck Brothers.

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Andria-Large/e/B00CD9UZM4/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

Barnes and Noble

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/andria-large?store=allproducts&keyword=andria+large

Document Outline

Copyright
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Authors

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