"Bullshit. Everyone needs sex."

"That is a man talking. You have a need to release your…. stuff. We don't operate that way, or at least I don't. Like I said - it's emotional, not physical."

"You make love, not f**k." The explicative sounded dangerous and incredible sexy in his voice.

"No. I f**k. I just do it more for the control aspect rather than the physical." This was the most honest conversation I had ever had with anyone. There was a certain freedom with knowing that this was the last time I would see him, and that anything I said couldn't be used against me.

His eyes narrowed. "You've never had an orgasm."


"Orgasm. Have you ever had one?"

I didn't really know how to answer the question, and it wasn't because I was being evasive. I rolled my paper towel on the table until it formed a straw-like shape. "I don't think so. Sex feels good, but the way I hear orgasms described, it seems to be this earth-shattering experience, and I feel like that is something I wouldn't be unsure of having." I shrugged nonchalantly. "Some woman can't orgasm. Like fifteen percent of the population. My gyno says not to worry about it. Sex can still be enjoyable, and it is."

He chuckled to himself and then placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward, looking at me. "You can orgasm."

"Oh, because you know so much about the inner workings of my body in the 45 minutes you've spent with me."

"All women can orgasm. Your gynecologist and whatever women's magazine you got that ridiculous statistic from doesn't know what they are talking about."

"You are so bullheaded! You don't know everything about everything!"

He leveled me with a confident stare. "I know everything about sex, and pleasing a women." I'll bet you do.

"I'm sure you don't. Maybe your conquests were faking."

"They weren't faking."

"How would you know?"

He sighed, exasperated. "I don't need to try and convince you of something that I could easily show you, if you weren't so obtuse on the whole idea."

"Whatever. My turn, you just had like nine questions." I pushed the pizza box away from me, worried that I would keep eating it if I stayed in close proximity. I reached over and grabbed Brad's can, feeling its weight, and got up to get us both fresh Dr Peppers. I mulled over my next question as I bent over the mini fridge, reaching in to get our drinks. Feeling eyes on my ass, I quickly glanced over my shoulder, and caught him staring. A normal individual would avert their eyes and play it off, but he let his eyes linger, smiling slightly and letting me see his appreciation. Pig.

"Has anyone ever sued you for sexual harassment?"

He was offended. "That would assume that harassment had occurred. I assure you, I don't make advances unless they are clearly receptive."

I stalked back to the table with the sodas and set/slammed them down on the table. "Do I seem CLEARLY receptive?"

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figure you are a work in progress."

"Uh-huh. Would you allow that to fly in court?"

"Point for the prosecution." His teasing tone was back.

He was the kind of man who, when talking with you, made you feel like you were the most important thing in his world. He put off this ridiculous magnetism that I couldn't stay away from. For the first time this evening, I wondered if this was the last time that I would be seeing him. I didn't entirely trust myself to stay away.

"So, why does Broward hate you so bad?"

"I think a better question is why does Broward want to protect you so much?"


He sighed and opened the can. I cringed, wondering if my dramatic slam of the soda earlier would cause it to foam or explode, but it opened with little fanfare.

"I hate to use the whole "everyone hates me because they are jealous" bit, but I think Broward looks at my life and compares it to his. He buries himself in work to, I suspect, avoid his home life with his sweet and intelligent, but incredibly boring wife. He chose a dull focus, corporate law, and I think he is burnt out. He sees my wing as "not real work." We play as hard as we work, and I think that irks him. He also has access to the billing and payroll system. My income dwarfs his, and considering we are equal partners and I work half the hours he does… the dislike is understandable."

"Do you envy yourself?"

He looked at me quizzically, but I knew he knew exactly what I was referring to. "I live the life, Julia. The life I choose for myself. The women, the parties, the power, the money. It is everything I always wanted."

"Is that why you are sitting here eating cold pizza and talking to me? You could be elbow deep in pu**y at the Silver Nugget."

He chuckled. "It's the Gold Nugget. And you are a conquest. It is part of me mixing it up." His honest and offensive answer should have angered me, but it didn't. I knew what he wanted. I was just beginning to worry that I wanted it too.

"Would you ever remarry?"

"No. I have needs that one woman can't fulfill. I fooled myself when I was younger, but I know better now. It's not fair for me to promise happy ever after to a women that I would be unfaithful to."

"Why? Are you a sex addict?"

"That's a bullshit clinical term. I love sex. I don't believe in restricting myself in order to conform to society's standards."

"Sheila thinks you're a sex addict."

"Sheila and I have had sexual tension for the last 5 years."

I gaped at him and he started shaking with controlled laughter. "God, Julia. You're too easy."

"From what I hear about your standards, it's not like Sheila is out of the question." I retorted.

He stopped laughing and looked at me with a grin. "Go with me to Vegas."

"No! This is supposed to be our last hurrah. My wild days are over. Starting tomorrow I am back to being a good girl." I slapped my hand on the table to emphasize my resolve. My sub-conscious was already packing a bag and choosing the proper shoes.

He slapped the table back at me. "Start Monday. Have you ever been to Vegas?"

"No. My parents preferred exciting locale such as Palms Springs and Bismarck, North Dakota."

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, pulling it to him. He looked solemnly in my eyes, and desire curled in my belly. "Come to Vegas with me. Please. I promise you won't regret it."

I couldn't find anything to say and stared wordlessly into his eyes. I had so many conflicting thoughts running through my mind and didn't know what to listen to.

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