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We eat the rest of our meal in silence before Conner leaves and I’m feeling confused.
It’s true. I don’t let loose like I did while in Vegas.
I work a lot, but that’s only because I’m not dating anyone.
I don’t drink to get wasted, except while in Vegas.
* * *
She’s up against the dark hallway.
The walls are vibrating from the bass in the club.
She tastes like cherries and vodka with a hint of mint.
She moans into the kiss as her chest pushes against mine while my fingertips thread into her dark hair.
My hands move down her body and I dig my hands into her sides as we press our bodies against one another in the heat of passion as our bodies are energized in this moment.
The next moment, we’re in a town car and she’s straddling me. Her warm center is pressing against my slacks and my cock is aching to get nearer to her. She’s as close to me as she can be, but I want more.
I need more.
I must have more.
I dart up in bed, sweat dripping down my face and my heart racing a mile a minute. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and take a deep breath with my palm sliding down my face.
Holy shit. That was one damn hot dream.
Who was she?
Is that her?
Is that the woman from Las Vegas?
* * *
The rest of the week, I’ve thought a lot of about what Conner said and about my dream.
I should do a little more than work and I should get out and meet new people. And I have been remembering a little more about the woman that I spent time with in Vegas. She did sleep over, and I’m only assuming that means that we slept together. If the time we spent together was anything like my dream, I can only imagine what happened that night.
I still cannot picture her face too clearly, but from what I’ve been told is that she’s beautiful.
I want to know more.
And I want to know what happened that night most of all.
I text Conner and ask him for his contact with my knee bouncing in anticipation. When I don’t receive a reply after a few minutes, I shake my head and stand up. I walk over to the floor to ceiling window adorning one side of my office and look out at the view of downtown Seattle.
My cell phone dings on my desk and I fight to immediately dive towards the object. With my hands in my pocket, I walk over to my desk, lean over and look at the screen of my phone.
Conner’s name shows up indicating there’s a message from him.
I grab the phone and slide my finger across the screen to unlock it.
In the message is everything that I would need to know in order to contact the PI. I weigh my decision of whether or not to call the guy. But I don’t waste any time and make the connection.
The guy had a last-minute cancellation and I luckily will have a meeting with him tonight, which makes me both excited and nervous.
