had been very long and some of the tasks I hadn't yet been

trained for. I'd figured them out, though, my fingers tap-

tapping on the keyboard as I filed in data spreadsheets

and saved files and sent e-mails. I was shutting down my

computer as he disappeared into his office.

I took my time gathering my sweater and water bottle. In a

moment Paul reappeared in his doorway. Paul had not

loosened his tie or taken off his suit jacket, not at the end

of the day. He looked tired.

"Paige. I wasn't expecting you to stil be here." He slid his

"Paige. I wasn't expecting you to stil be here." He slid his gaze from mine in a manner so blatant I couldn't have

missed it. "I got al the files you sent."

I could've let it pass, pretended something wasn't strange

between us. Maybe I should've, but his attitude rankled.

"Is everything al right? I mean, I did everything you asked

for, right?"

He nodded, but when he spoke, his voice was gruff and he

avoided looking at me. "I've been very pleased with your

performance."

I thought of what Brenda had said, about how the girls

never lasted long. Wel, I needed this job and I'd be

damned if I was forced out of it. I could find another job if

I wanted, but it would be when I wanted. Not when Mr.

Johnson decided to make me miserable enough to quit.

But there was more to it than that. Strength and beauty.

Flaws and strengths. Lists. It was bound wrists and a

blindfold and being told what to do without having to think

for myself.

We stared at each other until he looked away.

"Thank you," Paul said. Then he went into his office and

"Thank you," Paul said. Then he went into his office and

closed the door behind him.

The misdelivered note handwritten in fine ink on gorgeous

paper wasn't anything like the one Paul had given me. So

why, then, had they both become so inexplicably linked?

Kira caught me on my cel phone as I drove home. Our

conversation didn't last long, and while she might not have

felt the strain, I did. We hadn't been best friends for a long

time, but like al my other old habits, Kira was a hard one

to break.

Her cal took my mind off Paul and the lists, but got me

thinking about Austin again. I wasn't sure that was an

improvement. She didn't apologize for inviting him to the

Pharmacy with us, but she didn't bring up Jack's name,

either, so I guessed that was sort of a draw.

I let her talk on and on even though I didn't have much to

say. She didn't notice, or ignored, my lack of replies, until

finaly she hung up before I could remember to tel her I

stil had her purse. Typical. Kira was always careless with

what she had, no matter how much or how little.

At home when I wanted to drive for a while to clear my

At home when I wanted to drive for a while to clear my

head, I could have my pick of backcountry roads, winding

through cornfields and cow pastures and woods. I could

drive for hours, literaly, without crossing a major highway.

I could open the windows and let my hair blow in the wind

with the radio cranked up loud, singing along. I could lose

myself on the ribbon of asphalt and make time stand stil.

Not here. I could've found a rural road if I went out of my

way, but it would've taken more effort to do it than it was

worth. Instead, I suffered stop-and-go traffic through

urban neighborhoods with my windows roled up and my

doors locked. Harrisburg wasn't a big city, but anyone

who didn't think it had crime was a fool.

The song came on the radio just as I puled into the

parking garage. I'd just started listening to the public radio

station out of Phily. The Cure had done a cover of

Hendrix's "Purple Haze" with a lot of funky backbeat and

some sort of weird Star Trek effect. It was an old song

and not one the local stations played.

I was transported.

"You ladies here to see the guys, right?" The guy

behind the counter gives us all a knowing wink as

behind the counter gives us all a knowing wink as

though he's seen our type before. "Bachelorette

party?"

It's not. It's an anti-bachelorette party, a divorce party, I

guess you could cal it. I've just signed the paperwork

dissolving my marriage to Austin. For the first time since I

was seventeen years old, I'm a single woman.

I have good friends. I can be glad of that. Kira couldn't

make it tonight, but I've got Nat, Misty, Vicky and Tori.

Laurie and Anna made it, too. It was my idea to come to

see the boys dancing at the nudie bar, but they al joined

the band and jumped on the wagon as soon as I suggested

it.

The bouncer leads us past a stage with two poles on it

where two bored-looking girls teeter in slutty shoes and

wiggle lethargicaly. There's nobody in the club yet, though

there's seating for a couple hundred horny men. We folow

the bouncer to a back room, al of us giggling like maniacs

and more than a little nervous.

It's not what I expected. I'd seen the Chippendales dance,

but this…this is a smal room painted entirely black with a

smal stage in the center, a single, silver pole rising to the

smal stage in the center, a single, silver pole rising to the

ceiling. A couple smal tables and a couch I don't want to

sit on ring the stage. There's no music. There's nobody.

Until the curtain at the back of the room parts and a young

guy about my age comes out. He's got a sheaf of blond

hair, fuck, like Austin, and the same build. But I lift my chin

and act like I don't care. I don't care. I don't.

He's not alone. He has another guy with him. And

believe me, they are not the Chippendales. The music

starts, the heavy bass thumpa-thumpa of some club

song I don't really know. The boys, dressed in dark

slacks and white shirts, ties, start to dance.

Holy fucking shit.

I glance at Nat, whose eyes are wide. I look at Tori,

who's grinning from ear to ear. Laurie puts her hand

over her face and peeks through her fingers.

They dance.

I've never seen anything like it. I was expecting some sort

of choreographed dance routine, some cheesy costumes.

But not this. This is…I am…

Wow.

The taler, dark-haired guy strips out of his white shirt,

takes off his cap and shakes his hair over one eye. He

grins, fingers going to the white tie and slipping it loose

from its knot. The blond's made his way around the room,

which has filed with curious, giggling and hooting women

and a few silent men. The dark-haired one, though, he

turns on one foot and tosses his tie directly at me.

I know him.

Oh, shit, I know him. It's Jack, that guy Kira was so

fucking crazy for. He's taler now, and his hair's longer,

and oh, shit, shit, he's coming over to me with a look on

his face that says he knows me, too. His fingers tug the

buttons free on his white shirt and he slides it open to show

off a lean chest and bely.

He's got his nipple pierced and tattoos al over his arm. He

tilts his head and gives me a grin that sends a lightning bolt

right to my pussy, and I wish I could pretend it didn't, but

there's no hiding it. He has to see it, the way my mouth

opens and my tongue slides over my lips.

More guys come out of the back and dolar bils are flying

left and right, but al I can see is this one guy. This one

grinding in front of me, taking off his shirt, undoing his belt,

sliding the pants down over his thighs. I want to cover my

face, afraid he's bare assed, but he clearly knows the

benefit of anticipation and puls his pants up again, leaving

the zipper undone to show dark briefs beneath.

He's got a nice body, nothing like Austin's. He's lean and

hard, though, and he smels like sex when he puts a hand

on the back of the couch I didn't want to sit on but did.

His face is close to my ear when he sings along with the

lyrics of the song I'l never be able to forget now. He

makes kissing the sky sound dirty and delicious.

When he nudges a knee between my thighs I open for him.

He rubs his body along mine, but fast, not lingering. Then

he turns. Gives me a sly-ass grin over one shoulder and

toys with the waistband of his pants.

Other women are screaming, "Take it off!," but I can't do

anything except stare. The song ends and slides into

another and I'm sure he's done. He'l take the dolars and

go into the back room.

But he does something else, instead. He gets on his knees,

sliding across the floor on them until he ends up at my feet.

And for that one moment, that instant, everything freezes

for me.

I can't breathe. I can't blink. I stare at him on that dirty

floor and our eyes lock. I've never wanted anything as

much as I want to put my hand in the long silken darkness

of his hair and pul.

And in the next moment he's up again, this time shaking his