and slightly tore her cupcake but she is wanton and can’t get enough of him. At four in the morning, performing the walk of shame, she had slid into her own bed, and slept until noon. She did not know this man’s name, who he was, or what he did for a living. Was she nuts? Evidently, crazy like a fox, because Mr. Loverman found her again, gently persuades her to have dinner with him, and they enjoy a lovely, sexless meal. She had noticed he wasn’t much of a talker, but it did not feel odd; it felt, well, rather comfortable.
The adult playdate at the sex club wasn’t very comfortable, which is where he had taken her after dinner. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In the sex club, she had made out with a woman, had some little man suck her toes while hunky sex god had made love to her. That man was like the energizer bunny on meth. He even had more to give when they had returned to his hotel room, where she again tiptoed through the walk of shame at five in the morning.
That was supposed to be it , two nights in Vegas, and nothing more. No name, anonymity, and simply some fun for the weekend. Nadine was freaking out. Her anonymous weekend just walked into her office. If it had not been so ludicrous, she would have sworn it was fate and this man was part of her future. To hell with that! She was going to pray away this incubus and get a grip on herself and her cupcake, who by the way, was reacting to the recounting of the tale; she yelled at her crotch again, “Calm down, Traitor!”
Bena, always the epitome of cool and collected, smiled at her friend. “Nadine, it’s not so bad.” Nadine didn’t see it that way, she needed Divine intervention and asked Bena to pray with her. Bena was always the pragmatic one of the group, calmly told Nadine, “No, I am not going to do that.” To her surprise Bena’s response was eloquent, simple and empowering.
“I am not going to tie up the line praying for your indiscretions and poor moral judgment. Take off those wet panties, put on a fresh pair, and go back there and handle your business.” She opened the car door, let herself out with a parting shot, “Nadine, maybe, there is more to this, you need to find out. This is way too coincidental for you to dismiss. Call me later and have a great day.” Bena blew her a kiss and before she entered the school door, she whispered to her distraught friend, “Oh, and stop having conversations with your cooter,” she added, a love you , a mean it , and went back to work.
Well damn.
Chapter Two
Marc Deasley was a practical man who dealt in reality, technical issues, and was renowned as one of the best energy engineers in the country. What he was not known for was folly, flights of fancy, or being a believer in fate; that was, until today. Rolland was his older brother by six years, and after the passing of their parents, he took on Marc. Somehow his big brother managed to finish college, get a job and then help put Marc through school with the help of creative financing, proper usage and investing of their parent’s savings and life insurance, and the two had done well for themselves.
Rolland worked at several advertising agencies and ten years ago, he started some small freelance projects on the side. His brother had spoken several times of working with a young hotshot that could package and sell sugar to a diabetic. The two worked side by side on several indie films and garage businesses which netted them a small nest egg to start a company. Initially, the hotshot wanted no part, went her own way, and Deasley & Associates was started. A year later, the hotshot was wooed back to the family. In less than six months, they had more accounts than they could handle and needed a new office. Rolland made Nadine Jordan a senior partner, with a big office and room to work her magic. In the eight years that he had known Nadine, there had never been any sign of her personal life with the exception of some
The adult playdate at the sex club wasn’t very comfortable, which is where he had taken her after dinner. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. In the sex club, she had made out with a woman, had some little man suck her toes while hunky sex god had made love to her. That man was like the energizer bunny on meth. He even had more to give when they had returned to his hotel room, where she again tiptoed through the walk of shame at five in the morning.
That was supposed to be it , two nights in Vegas, and nothing more. No name, anonymity, and simply some fun for the weekend. Nadine was freaking out. Her anonymous weekend just walked into her office. If it had not been so ludicrous, she would have sworn it was fate and this man was part of her future. To hell with that! She was going to pray away this incubus and get a grip on herself and her cupcake, who by the way, was reacting to the recounting of the tale; she yelled at her crotch again, “Calm down, Traitor!”
Bena, always the epitome of cool and collected, smiled at her friend. “Nadine, it’s not so bad.” Nadine didn’t see it that way, she needed Divine intervention and asked Bena to pray with her. Bena was always the pragmatic one of the group, calmly told Nadine, “No, I am not going to do that.” To her surprise Bena’s response was eloquent, simple and empowering.
“I am not going to tie up the line praying for your indiscretions and poor moral judgment. Take off those wet panties, put on a fresh pair, and go back there and handle your business.” She opened the car door, let herself out with a parting shot, “Nadine, maybe, there is more to this, you need to find out. This is way too coincidental for you to dismiss. Call me later and have a great day.” Bena blew her a kiss and before she entered the school door, she whispered to her distraught friend, “Oh, and stop having conversations with your cooter,” she added, a love you , a mean it , and went back to work.
Well damn.
Chapter Two
Marc Deasley was a practical man who dealt in reality, technical issues, and was renowned as one of the best energy engineers in the country. What he was not known for was folly, flights of fancy, or being a believer in fate; that was, until today. Rolland was his older brother by six years, and after the passing of their parents, he took on Marc. Somehow his big brother managed to finish college, get a job and then help put Marc through school with the help of creative financing, proper usage and investing of their parent’s savings and life insurance, and the two had done well for themselves.
Rolland worked at several advertising agencies and ten years ago, he started some small freelance projects on the side. His brother had spoken several times of working with a young hotshot that could package and sell sugar to a diabetic. The two worked side by side on several indie films and garage businesses which netted them a small nest egg to start a company. Initially, the hotshot wanted no part, went her own way, and Deasley & Associates was started. A year later, the hotshot was wooed back to the family. In less than six months, they had more accounts than they could handle and needed a new office. Rolland made Nadine Jordan a senior partner, with a big office and room to work her magic. In the eight years that he had known Nadine, there had never been any sign of her personal life with the exception of some
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