My throat is dry. My heart hammers out of control.My hands on the table inch closer to Miles on the other side, seemingly of their own accord.He stares at me, and I at him. Then, his mouth drops to my lips.“Meet me in the bathroom,” he says. “The unisex solo stall at the end of the hall.”The wor
Somehow I’m able to hold everything together for another hour, though I don’t actually get any work done. Instead, I focus on the blinking mouse cursor over a blank page and try to keep my lunch from resurfacing.I’m definitely going to be sick. But if I can hold it off.If I can keep things togethe
“And if I refuse?” I asks.Amber’s smile falls and she glowers at me instead. “I don’t want to ruin Miles’s career, but I will. You don’t want that though, do you? So you are going to call him.”“What are you planning?” I ask her. “I’m not going to call him down here for you to hurt him.”“I’m not g
“I can ruin you!” Amber shouts. “Listen to me, damn it!”He doesn’t. He shuts the door and starts to drive.Amber chases down the street. She almost catches up to us at a red light, but when Miles turns right, the traffic clears. He accelerates and leaves her behind in the dark of night.We sit in s
“Miles,” I say again, more urgently this time. “She sent a picture.”Miles glances over at me, looking at my face. Whatever he sees there makes him pull the car over into a brightly lit parking lot.“Show me,” he says, so I do, turning the phone toward him.His face hardens further and his expressio
I speak as clearly as I can, filling in any details Officer Clark requests. It’s almost like an out of body experience. As I’m explaining the things that happened, I’m half-pretending that they actually happened to someone else. It makes it easier to talk about.When I’m finished, I can see clearly
Miles drives us back to his place and we go in through the front door.“Coffee?” he asks, as he tosses aside his coat. It lands on the back of a nearby chair.“Okay,” I reply. Removing my own coat, I drape mine carefully over top of his.He turns and heads into the kitchen. Slower, I follow him.His
“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes.I blush even more fiercely and start to turn away again. He has to be lying, doesn’t he? He’s a known playboy and young than me. I’m a woman in my thirties who has had two children. Compared to the tight younger bodies he’s seen before, I must look like a used-u