Playing It Safe by Barbie Bohrman

appointed the research guy. After all the research is done on each location, we take a vote. The one with the most votes is where we end up going.”
    “How very democratic of all of you,” I note. “If it was me and a bunch of my girlfriends, we’d somehow end up in a tiff because so-and-so can’t be in the sun for too long, and that one can’t stand walking for long distances. Basically, I’d end up telling them to fuck off, and I’d pack up my shit so I could go off to an island all by myself.”
    “Which island?” he asks, while we make our way down the hallway toward the first door.
    “Hmmm, I don’t know. Somewhere that would not require me to wear much clothing and was peaceful and quiet all day and night. No cell phones, no TV … well, maybe some sort of TV, but for the most part a complete disconnect from everybody for a whole week.”
    “I know just the place,” he says. “I may have to show you one day.”
    “That would defeat the purpose of peace and quiet, wouldn’t it?”
    He chuckles as he opens the first door, and I get a view of his office. It has a large mahogany desk situated in the center of the room with a dark brown leather chair. The desk faces a wall that has a pretty good-sized flat-screen TV and behind it a credenza in matching mahogany. His laptop is currently open on his desk, and there are a couple of papers strewn about, nothing messy or cluttered at all in here.
    Feeling satisfied with what I’ve seen in this room, I brush past him on my way to the door. “Next room, please.”
    “I take it this room does nothing for you?” he asks.
    It totally does things to me. All sorts of interesting things. For instance, I could tell him about the countless times I’ve fantasized about going to his office and locking the door so I could do all sorts of wicked things to him. But cooler heads prevail, and I shrug my shoulders and tell him no instead.
    We walk to the next door, which is across the hall at an angle. He opens it to reveal a guest bathroom. Nothing much to report in here. I mean, it’s a crapper with really nice fixtures that you can tell have been recently installed. Moving on, he leads me to the second-to-last door, which he opens to reveal his personal gym.
    “Holy crap! You must really be into working out.”
    “You could say that,” he laughs. “I try to get in two hours a day.”
    He has everything in here: an elliptical machine, a treadmill, a rowing machine, a weight machine, and free weights.
    “I think I need to cancel my membership at the gym and start coming here instead,” I joke.
    “I don’t think you’d be able to keep up with me,” he says and comes up behind me as I’m eyeing some of the equipment.
    I know if I turn around I’ll be scarily close to him. Usually, I wouldn’t be timid with my comebacks either, but I feel like if I do right now, my clothes may be off of me faster than I can say, “Fuck Bally’s.” Instead, I shimmy out from between his large frame and the weight machine and make my way into the hallway again. He strides toward me with a pleased look on his face and walks past me to stand before the very last stop on our tour.
    Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
    Bedroom.
    Ding, ding! We have a winner!
    Okay, let’s freeze right here and assess the situation before he opens the door to where the magic happens. And let’s be honest, the magic would undoubtedly happen. How do I know this? Well, besides the fact that we’ve been dancing around each other for months, and each time it gets precariously closer to something … I want him, plain and simple. I almost hope it’s a pigsty on the other side of the door and it will turn me off rather than make me want to show him how bendy I can be.
    Alex swings the door open, and what do my wandering eyes feast upon? Shit, I don’t even know where to start. From the four-poster king-sized bed to the contemporary dark oak furniture that consists of an armoire, a dresser, and two