 
Tempted by the Unexpected

The Art of Lawlessness Series - Book 1

by  
Kenna Derrick

Tempted by the Unexpected  
The Art of Lawlessness Series – Book 1

First ebook edition. Copyright © 2016 Kenna Derrick  
Delivered by Smashwords Digital Publishing Platform

ISBN: 9781370755882

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without the prior written consent of the distributor or author. This is a work of fiction, book 1 of 3. The names, people, certain places and events are an invention, imagination, fantasy, created by the author for purposes of entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or people living or dead is entirely coincidental. Available in print.

Romance. Erotic. Fiction.

kennaderrick.wordpress.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One – Let's Go Public  
Chapter Two – Fooled Like This  
Chapter Three – Compliance  
Chapter Four – Detour  
Chapter Five – Demonic Pigs  
Chapter Six – Reveal  
Chapter Seven – Show Yourself to Me  
Chapter Eight – Bridge

If you enjoyed this book, consider leaving a review or rating from the place you purchased it. Thank you.

Chapter One – Let's Go Public

Music echoed from the outdoor stage across the river. A surreal mix of electronica infused with spacey undertones drifted from the Friday night festival downtown Reno. An assortment of people outstretched themselves on blankets scattering the lawn in front of the amphitheater. Others on skates and bikes zipped along cement paths that cut the area into big sections.

"New project?" a familiar voice sounded above the evening fray at the Riverside Bar.

"More like an end to one," the girl said. Paint underneath her nails and fresh splotches on her white tee shirt hinted at her occupation.

"Then a celebration is in order," the waiter said.

Peyton let a rare smile escape and nodded. "I'll have the usual."

"Coming right up," the waiter said and disappeared inside.

Fading sunlight danced on the water below. There would be nothing left of the Truckee river by summer's end.

The waiter returned and placed a frosty glass of cold beer on the small round table. Reflections of the cafe lights above provided an amber glow to the drink.

"Shall I run a tab?"

"Sure. I'll live dangerously."

"Very good." He winked and moved on to other patrons.

Unsettled and yet exhausted from completing the project that managed to drag on for most of the sweltering summer, Peyton took a long slow drink of the beer. If living dangerous was in order, she needed to check her phone and start reading the barrage of emails from her publicity manager.

"Sorry I'm late," a high pitched voice echoed above the evening noise. Peyton smiled to herself, brushed hair back from her face and gazed up at her illustrious friend.

"Hot date?" Peyton asked.

"I need a drink, just a minute -" Gabrielle twisted backward to flag the waiter.

"Good golly, you cheat on Grant or something?" Peyton snorted. For a moment there was no answer. "Oh for damn sake. Really Gabrielle?" Peyton kicked the underside of the table with the toe of her shoe.

Gabrielle grabbed the glass of wine from the waiter and sat. A grin from ear to ear told of the guilty deed. She took a large sip and then reached down and nudged off her high heels.

"So tell," Peyton said. "It was Todd, wasn't it?"

Gabrielle took another large sip of wine and nodded. Half her dark hair broke free and tumbled down.

"First of all, I've told you, sex with Grant is like going to the dentist or gym. It's become something I have to do but avoid. When Todd sent me a text around noon asking to meet," Gabrielle swallowed hard, "I knew it would be more than lunch."

Peyton held up her empty glass, and the waiter removed it in a flash. She mouthed the words 'stronger' to him and he thrashed a nod.

"He made me feel like I was eighteen again – in high school, you know?"

"Really, he turned back the clock? That must have been a good fuck," Peyton said.

"A good fuck? I'm talking amazing. I've never been down and dirty my whole life. I feel so opened up and free right now."

"Great," Peyton said beginning to cringe.

"And what about you? Miss single-life? You live in that loft on Fifth Street. Sexy beasts coming and going. You can't imagine a roll in the hay with anyone?"

Peyton flipped Gabrielle the middle finger just prior to grasping a drink from the waiter.

"Okay?" he asked above the music.

Peyton eyed the shot glass sitting at the bottom of the beer. She nodded and he squeezed back through the crowd.

The outdoor patio of the Riverside Bar was filled to capacity. Tables were shoved close together, patron conversations were loud and exuberant and the warm night air was mixed with the rotting smell of the receding river.

"What are you going to say to Grant?"

"I'm not saying anything. Maybe Todd will last, maybe he won't. I just want to enjoy wherever this is going."

Peyton took a long slow drink of the boilermaker. After the pungent liquid slid down her throat she set the glass before her. "So why are you all dressed up now?"

"I went home from work early this afternoon and cleaned up, if you know what I mean. Some gals from the office are all going out to Fire and Ice. Gonna whoop it up. I was wondering if you wanted to come but -"

"But?" Peyton half smirked.

"The poor and starving artist motif is, uh, well, kind of scary, Peyton." Gabrielle flung an arm out.

"Hmm. I'm not poor or starving."

"That – you are not. Which makes me wonder why your wardrobe is always so hideous."

"Let's drink to me and you can be on your way. The painting is done." Peyton held up her half empty glass.

"Oh my fucking gosh! It's finally done!" Gabrielle screamed and clinked her glass so hard with Peyton's, red wine sloshed onto the table.

A raucous round of male voices boomed, breaking the girls from the toast. Peyton gazed sideways at what appeared to be a newcomer at the crowded table. Their grooming alone reeked of money.

"Perhaps I should flaunt myself to one of those slabs of meat?" Peyton suggested.

"Oh please. There's enough ego dripping off those snob-nosed lawyers to fill the storm sewers."

"Lawyers? You think so?" Peyton stole another glance.

Gabrielle bobbed her head up and down. "All married, I can assure you."

Peyton snorted but a thread of curiosity remained. The latecomer was worth a second, perhaps third visual gawking. He didn't fit the picture of the other loud hormones gathered around the small table sucking on imported ale. He hovered reluctantly to the side for several moments before dropping a briefcase to the ground. Which meant he worked for a firm downtown and wouldn't dare park his overpriced Mercedes anywhere near bum-laden, hooker infested streets.

He threaded a finger above his tie and jostled it loose but left the knot intact. The suit jacket was removed and wrapped around a chair.

"He works out. Lotta muscles under that tailored shirt," Gabrielle said.

Peyton mumbled something and took another drink.

"Just imagine that pretty little mouth licking your clit," Gabrielle squealed.

"Really not up for imagining that. However, you go ahead." Peyton couldn't stop tapping her foot under the table. "Gab, you cheat on your boyfriend and transform into a sex maniac. I'm not sure I want to be involved. These things end like shit."

"Peyton, we're friends – although you were my former client, but I worry about how uptight and reclusive you are getting. And I guess I didn't tell you." She stuck her hand out for inspection. A massive square cut diamond ring sparkled in the dim light.

"Wait, what?"

Gabrielle grew nervous and fumbled for something in her purse. "Yeah. Couple weeks ago. We went up to Napa." She brought out a smartphone and started flipping through images.

"Fuck," Peyton said, downing the rest of her drink.

"I should get my tail out of here. I know you hate clubs, so I won't plead with you to come to Fire and Ice, although it's going to be a blast." Gabrielle said. "I'm stupefied you're out here on a Friday night. Shit it's busy."

"I was interested in the music. Or I thought I was." Peyton blinked. The dull yellow sparkle of the lights above were more intense as her faculties became further compromised.

Gabrielle stood after shoving her feet back into shoes that were painfully tight. She grasped a key chain overloaded with funky trinkets and left some money on the table for her drink.

"Be careful. I'll call you next week with details of the art showing," Peyton forced a smile.

"Don't look now – but I think you've gained someone's attention." Gabrielle nodded in the direction of the loud lawyers. "See you later then," she grinned.

Peyton loathed flirting and gawking when it came to the opposite sex. However, a very small, and yet very buzzed part of her brain was a bit intrigued. At least with one of the lawyers.

Pretentious he was not. A casual lean in his chair, hand grasping a tall frosted glass of beer, a finger and thumb rested on his belt buckle. This sort of male gesture could mean the hormonal ass was about to undress himself in public. Or give the impression he wanted to. This guy was bit too fucking attractive. Expensive suit and shoes, big silver watch around a thick wrist, yep the prick was very high on himself. But what she didn't get was the other conflicting details. His dark hair, a sharp cut yet a bit tousled in front of one eye. A bold, blue eye at that. Perhaps he had been so eager to get to work this morning, that shaving escaped him for a very subtle hint of a five o'clock shadow adorned the sides of his face.

"Excuse me you're Peyton Buckholtz!"

Ripped from the puzzling male eye candy, Peyton greeted the person hovering next to her. A chat about dry, inconsequential garbage ensued but Peyton kept sights on Mr. Wonderful. He turned to his posse and was engaging with them once more. Oh well perhaps he was done with ritualistic game playing and was going to talk about stupid things with his buddies.

Peyton directed attention to the lady beside her talking a mile a minute. The woman worked in an office downtown and claimed she needed several pieces of art to liven up her barren halls and offices.

"You were at Burning Man this year, isn't that right? My son tried to get ticket, they sold out so fast. He was disappointed but I was rather glad due to all the drugs and sex on the playa, wouldn't you say so?" The lady rambled on without drawing a breath between sentences.

"Uhm, no. I didn't make Burning Man this year. Uh huh, lot of drugs -"

"Oh well I know I heard you were working for a large art piece for the city hall -" the lady rambled on and on. Peyton tried to concentrate but wanted to interject an excuse to leave and go home.

. . .

"Who is that? The blond over there?" Alex Cutwater tried to grab the attention from a colleague, but his friend was quite drunk. "Hey – hey – Travis, who the fuck is that girl over there – you said something about her earlier."

Red in the face, Travis set his drink down and took a longing gape at the table across the busy patio. He smiled and threw a napkin at Alex. "Leave it to this guy to find the hot, unusual bitch in the crowd," he said laughing.

"Bitch, really? Is she famous or something, people keep coming up to her," Alex asked.

Another lawyer friend, not quite as weathered by drinking, spoke up, "She's an artist. Does super huge pieces, with mixed media or something like that."

"What type of work?" Alex took a drink of his draft beer.

"I dunno. It's expressionistic or something. Abstract crap. That lady she was sitting with earlier – she works for the city, got her a lot of lucrative contracts. Last couple years the girl has been at that burning festival in the desert – you know where they torch everything, and have a big hippie fest? I guess her stuff took off after that," the lawyer said.

Alex cocked his head. "Very interesting."

"You gonna tap that?" Travis blurted, spewing beer across the table.

Alex half smiled. Disinclined to answer, he slid the backside of his hand across his open crotch knowing how fickle and delicious artists tasted. This blond girl was off the chart. A perfect picture of recklessness lurking underneath a semi-gathered exterior. He envisioned her plump mouth around his swollen cock.

Senseless conversation was thrown around like a dirty rag. Alex excused himself, even though nobody was paying attention. He wound his way through tables full of people and came extra close to where Peyton sat. She was consumed in a conversation with some fat cougar bitch with extra large tits.

Aware of the dark haired male passing by at close range, Peyton allowed her eyes to drift along his midsection. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Assuming he was on his way to the restroom to remedy the effects of beer guzzling, it would not provide an explanation as to the unmistakable erection he was sporting.

The patio was becoming a sweat bath with so much energy. Peyton could not locate Mr. Waiter any more and after taking the prospective client's card, she was ready to go home. It was going to either be ride-share or walk. Walking would provide clarity and sobriety, however, she was fighting unsteadiness. Broken free of a clip, half her hair was wafting in front of her face. Peyton did not care as it hid her brightly flushed cheeks.

. . .

After paying the bill, Peyton managed to gather her wits and snake an escape route from the Riverside Bar. The unfortunate task now was to traverse a very long array of cement steps without a railing. Swearing under her breath she took a step and wobbled. A couple of homeless looked up from their encampment. Peyton grew feverishly hot, embarrassed at how a few choice words could rouse these people.

"Whoa," a voice said from behind. "That looks precarious."

Peyton flinched as firm grasp took her by the arm.

It was Lawyer from the bar.

"Don't worry, I'm not the creep you think I am," he said in deep voice.

"Then you shouldn't worry either, I'm not the bimbo you think I am," Peyton said, slurring her words.

"At least we got that straight."

"See that bridge over there -" Peyton motioned.

"That one, over the river?" his voice had an edge of humor.

"Yes. I have to get over that and then to the street so I can walk home."

"Where's home? Hopefully not the street?" he asked.

"Peyton gazed up at Lawyer. He was a lot taller than she had assessed back at the patio.

"I live on Fifth Street." Peyton caught herself and slapped her free hand around her mouth. "I probably shouldn't have said that."

A crack entailing his effort to see her home so he could take advantage of her body, disintegrated. She was much too drunk to grasp his dark humor.

"You a lawyer?"

"Yes."

"A good one?"

"Depends on what you mean by good," he smiled.

Peyton fixated on his mouth for a moment until a surge of people coursed by, their shoes slapping extra loud on the steps.

"You shouldn't get this incapacitated down here. You might come across some bad types."

Peyton was beginning to see double, which, wasn't that unpleasant since two of him was better than one.

"I think you're right. I'm celebrating though."

"Oh yeah?" his eyes grew wide. "And you want to go home? It's so early and the night is young."

"I'm kind of tired."

"I can see that," he said glancing at the mobs of people gathering for the concert across the river.

"Good band. I mean them," Peyton sloppily waved a hand, "heard them before."

"Then I'll present you with a deal. Let's go listen for awhile. We can get you some water, help with that bridge thing, and then if you want, I'll still see you home."

"You really are a lawyer."

"I said that, didn't I?"

"Yeah but that's a pretty nice proposition," Peyton said.

"If it's a no, I'll take you home now," he voice grew serious.

Peyton wobbled for a moment more. She thought about the reclusive comment from Gabrielle.

"Okay, but if my water is spiked with anything, you're gonna be in trouble."

"Agreed. But I think Reno water is spiked by default. Not much we can do about it."

Peyton snorted. This guy was exuding sex appeal from the nethersphere and yet he was funny too. She was missing something but too inebriated to care.

"Let's try some of these steps, shall we?" He motioned. They might as well have been rock cliffs at the rate she was going.

Peyton managed a few before a flip flop stumbled off her foot and landed one step below.

"Dammit," she swore and tried to bend down to get it. Lawyer was a lot faster and whisked it up before she could think. "Didn't you have a briefcase at one time?" she pondered.

"That I did."

"I knew it. You're parked around here somewhere."

"Yes. Would you like me to drive you home instead?"

Peyton giggled. "I live very close by."

"Yes, I know Fifth Street. I take it to work every day."

"Oh then you already know where I live."

"No but let me take a stab – the high rise lofts?"

Peyton's mouth opened but wasn't able to find the intended words. Alex smiled and ran a finger down her arm.

"I think I overheard that you're an artist. So it would make sense you live in those lofts," Alex said. She wasn't just any artist after all. Persons that could afford the massive open air studios were either supported by a wealthy mommy and daddy or made a living producing and selling works of art on a regular basis.

"Where do you live then?" Peyton asked.

"Hmm. Why don't we concentrate on your journey down these steps? I'll tell you anything you want to know," Alex said, his mouth grazing her ear.

If she wanted to know where he lived, he would divulge a few details at a later date. History proved that it was better to stay reserved rather than spoil an evening. His 1.5 acre estate south of town, up the exclusive Mount Rose highway would turn women into spineless whores. Their eyes always glazed over, and legs opened wide. Where was the fun in that? This girl was going to be a challenge no matter his status or wealth, but all the same, it might be a brief affair. Alex brimmed with anticipation. There wasn't much cause to discuss personal lives. He may never see her again after tonight. And sometimes that was best.

. . .

"I'm ashamed to ask this -" Peyton said.

"Ask away my fair maiden." Lawyer returned after a short stint to retrieve water. He sat down in the grass beside her.

"What's your name?" She winced and fought a defensive urge to tell him she wasn't a floosie or a drunk that sat in parks with opportunistic men.

"Alex Dunn Cutwater," he said and cracked the cap of an ice cold water bottle. "I already know yours, Peyton."

Wide eyed, she grasped the bottle from him. "You really are a lawyer."

"I think I mentioned that." He smirked.

"Cutwater? Not as in the Rose, Cutwater and -" She couldn't remember.

"And Gephardt LLC. Yep, the very practice. Cheers," he said holding up a bottle in the air.

"Cheer-s I think,? Peyton said. She took a long drink but the cold water made it hard to swallow and a stream trickled out of the corner of her mouth onto her shirt. "Oops, sorry," she said, embarrassed.

Alex reached over and gently dragged his thumb along the corner of her mouth slowly to her chin.

"Uh, okay," Peyton said. "Let's get something a bit straight here -"

"I'm all ears," he interrupted.

"What are you expecting to happen? I'm not stupid, I saw you at the bar. You were checking me out. Should I pull my pants down now or later?"

"You barely know me and you're ready to remove clothing?"

"I was making a joke. I'm sure that's what you have in mind though," Peyton said.

"Why would you say that?"

"Because now you're going to pretend your intentions are all platonic and decent and you'll get me forgetting my inhibitions and suddenly things will end abruptly and awkwardly." Peyton didn't know if she was making sense. The world had become a strange muddled venue.

"Somehow I think I've heard a speech like that before," Alex said.

"From your other girlfriends."

"Perhaps," Alex said. "I wouldn't dare lump you with them. I can tell you are a much more respectable human being."

"That's a terrible pick-up line," Peyton said. Her head was beginning to clear but the effects of the alcohol were still prevalent.

"I've already passed the point of pick up lines. Now I'm just trying to get you out of those pants like you promised."

"How about narcissistic personality disorder?"

"Should I wear a straight jacket?" Alex asked.

"Only if you can't control yourself," Peyton said.

The band droned on. Still more people were finding their way into the region. The grass areas were packed with people on blankets and chairs. The stage was well lit but the lawn areas were dark. With night progressing, Peyton shivered. She had not planned on being out so late.

A couple to their right disrupted the playful conversation. A young male and female were engaged in a very heated display of public affection. They did not seem bothered by onlookers whatsoever. Peyton couldn't help but gawk at their kissing and mouthing.

As her eyes adapted to the night she got a better sense of how crazy the scene was. Peyton was used to staring down on the amphitheater on Friday nights, not being in the midst of it.

A few kids ran by with glow sticks. Then a few more people whizzed by on skateboards.

"Quite the fun, isn't it?" Alex said.

"Sure. I mean I guess so. I'm not into crowds."

"What about public displays of affection?" Alex asked.

"Not that either."

"Are you involved with anyone?"

"What do you mean by that? No, not like a boyfriend or husband."

Alex scooted closer to her. He was leaning backward on one arm. The grass they were stretched out on, was at a slight incline.

"Have you ever seen someone have sex in public?" he asked.

Peyton couldn't see his facial features in the darkness but warmth drifted from his body.

She went along with his probing questions. "We do live in Reno, Nevada. Of course I've seen people copulating in public. It's not something that turns me on."

"Watching it or doing it?" Alex moved his mouth closer to hers.

"I – I'm not into watching it."

"Have you ever fucked in a public place?" Alex grazed his lips over the corner of her mouth.

Peyton assumed he was going to kiss her but he refrained.

"No. Have you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Is that what you want to do now? Of course I should of seen this coming," Peyton took a shaky breath.

Yet another male that was all hormones and pulsating organs.

Alex smoothed his hand inside of her thigh. "I'm up for it if you are."

"Wait – you're serious?" She narrowed her gaze. "It's a joke, right?"

"No. Who's going to see me stick my dick in your ass? We could hide it quite well I think."

Peyton's heart was racing so hard it felt like she was choking. "Oh no, I don't think – I'm pretty sure, I can't -"

"Relax, relax," he said coaxing her in a soothing voice. His hand moved upward along her leg. Peyton met it and grabbed onto him.

"What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing. Tell me to stop if you'd like." The tip of his tongue touched below her ear. His fingers pressed hard into her crotch.

Peyton grew dizzy. Her body caught fire as his brazen touch grew in strength.

"How wet are you right now?" Alex whispered.

"Someone is going to see us."

"And?"

"Can't we get arrested – isn't this is a lewd act?"

Alex didn't answer. He pressed his open mouth into her neck and started to suckle on hot skin.

"This gets you hot? Doesn't this scare you? What the hell are you thinking, you're a lawyer," Peyton said, trying to constrain her voice.

Alex grabbed her wrist coaxed his hand to his crotch. She stopped breathing, succumbing to disbelief and fear.

"I could come right now," he said.

"Oh god. Please don't do that," Peyton said but Alex sank his mouth onto hers. Peyton crumbled backward. He kissed her vigorously, tongue hungrily mating with hers. He moved his hand to her inner thigh, trying to reign himself in a bit.

"Alex, Alex, someone is going to see us, oh shit, I don't want you to stop," Peyton said, voice shaking.

He spoke into her ear, "They're going to see two people making out. That's it. Too dark to see anything else. Except for you my darling," he coaxed her vision downward.

Peyton swallowed but her throat was too dry. A street lamp across the ditch in back provided dim light enough for her to witness the head of his huge cock peeking from the waistline of his slacks. The gratification of her eyes on his cock lasted for a moment and then he moved forward, mating his groin into her hip.

"There's some bushes just below us," Alex said, "are you loud, vocally, when you orgasm?"

"What? No -"

"A creek runs down there, nobody will see us. Well, except for a few homeless people."

Peyton breathed out with certain exasperation. "I can't, I can't. We could go back to my place -"

"You'd really invite me to your place right now?" he said, amused.

"Y-yea. No. I'm not sure. My head is spinning."

Alex reached for her mouth again. Her lips were quivering, and he half smiled amidst the embrace, amused she was this unsettled by him.

Grasping for some shred of self control, he retracted. Continued physical contact like this and he would entertain the idea of fucking her in a dark alley. But only if she was game. And that wasn't likely. He slid his hand around her back and coaxed her to sit up with him.

"What, what now?" Peyton asked. The throbbing between her legs was so intense she was sure the pulse could be heard.

Alex cleared his throat. It was as far as it could go. "I get a bit carried away. I like to entertain the thought of fucking in public, but you're right, it would jeopardize my career if a cop walked by and saw us." He hated himself for what he was about to say, and he needed to get off, his dick wasn't going to cooperate, not around this handsome girl.

"Shit. I know. I can't believe I'm even doing this," Peyton grew nervous. "I met you an hour ago."

Sultry tunes laden with deep bass cascaded over them, providing a respite from their fiery contact. Peyton thread her fingers into the grass, yanking it so hard blades tore off at the root.

"I'd like to see you again. When is good for you?" Alex asked.

Peyton sucked on her lower lip. This guy was perplexing as hell.

"I – I'm not doing much tomorrow. I have to put together a party for next week. I could meet you."

"Hmm. Would it be okay if I picked you up?"

Peyton studied him for a minute, then nodded.

Alex half grinned. His mind was churning, looking for an immediate getaway to finish himself off. He didn't want to ruin the situation with her. This girl showed promise. He glanced over at her, arms now wrapped around her folded legs. She was shivering.

He ran a hand along her back. "Cold? I'm being an asshole. Come on I'll walk you home."

"Walk me to the street, I can manage the rest of the way. Look, see," she said pointing overhead, "that's my building up there. The blue lights on the railing – that's me."

"You really do live close, I should of taken you up on that offer," Alex said.

Peyton turned pale and swallowed hard.

"Don't worry, another time," he chuckled.

After a brief walk to the sidewalk, they parted ways. He cursed for parking so far from the riverfront area, but made it back to his Mercedes. Not a moment too soon either, a few thoughts of licking those taught breasts of hers, and he came fast and hard in the front driver seat. Another trip to the dry cleaners, he thought staring down at his trousers.

Alex would not of taken her in public. Tempting. But not with so many around. A test. A little test. She wasn't as promiscuous or uninhibited as he first assessed. Even better. The mere thought of intercourse at a public venue was a reoccurring fantasy. But maybe that's where it better stay.

For now.

Chapter Two – Fooled Like This

Peyton tapped a ragged fingernail against the side of a hot cup of coffee. She brought it to her lips and took a sip of the smokey beverage. With long, bare legs outstretched, she sat with her back against the Big Wall of her loft apartment. The wall ascended twenty feet, just as in all the flats of the building. Named the Big Wall because it was the most expansive wall in her unit, the one she hung canvases to work on and didn't care if excess paint splattered in all directions.

Cheeks was laying on her side, napping in the window, eyes closed. Sun was a powerful sedative to the old grey cat. Peyton rescued her many years ago from a park along the river. It had been declawed and abandoned. Not interested in pets, Peyton tried to find a home for the poor thing but was unsuccessful. The cat grew on her and became a decent friend, at least when Cheeks wasn't hiding in the closet.

The events of last night were fresh in Peyton's mind. Unsettled energy kept her scattered and unable to focus on anything. The Lawyer was correct however, she was stupid to get drunk and wander around downtown. A dangerous gamble even in the middle of the day. Peyton chalked her loose behavior up to fatigue. The last week had been a series of tests, pushing her talent to the limit.

A few passionate flings dotted her life. But nothing so foolhardy as messing around with a complete stranger she met at a bar. Stuffy types, egomaniacs and a hipster last spring were the most recent failures when it came to men. The hipster never used deodorant, citing some malarkey about his body becoming poisoned with toxic metals. He also clung to the idiocy that if he had sex too often it would weaken his soul. Fucking loon. And he would prevent himself from climaxing, worrying about releasing his sperm, which was sacred. Sacred to whom, she had no idea.

After Peyton kicked his hipster butt to the curb one rainy afternoon, she became resigned to the single life. Yes, Gabrielle was right, Peyton was not interested in dating and was drawn to a reclusive lifestyle. Why put forth the effort into men? There was nothing rewarding about being with them. At least long term. The few friends Peyton remained in contact with were all divorced. And they were bitter divorces. Bag loads of money thrown at the problem in court.

Not many males could rattle her as the lawyer did last night however. Peyton wriggled her toes, feet swishing back and forth as nerves welled up. Visions of him coursed through her mind. Physically well endowed, the mere thought of his huge cock made her giggle out loud. She took a deep breath and stood. Not knowing this guy whatsoever was a sobering thought. Maybe he wasn't a lawyer. A liar instead. Playing a part just to get inside a vulnerable girl's pants. Pants which she offered to remove.

No more drinking.

"Shit," Peyton muttered. She set her coffee cup with an unsteady hand onto the kitchen counter. And was he serious about dinner tonight? She grabbed her phone off the big square table in the middle of the room and checked for messages. Nothing. She brought up a text messaging window and entered his name. She tapped out a few words...

Are we still on for dinner? [Peyton]

But staring down at the message, she decided it was silly and insecure. She erased the message and placed the phone on a stack of papers. He didn't even kiss her goodbye last night. He was in a hurry and now it was becoming clear. The idiot had a wife. And kids. Or he was wanted for murder and needed to flee the downtown area.

Peyton gathered her long tousled hair and secured it on top of her head. OCD was going crazy. The monster in her brain was wide awake and very convincing this morning. Of course Alex wanted to have intercourse in that park last night. He never intended to see her again. He was seeking an innocent lass to infect. His mission was to spread HIV or Syphillis. He was a misogynistic liar, just like the current prick running for president.

Peyton rubbed her eyes. No way would a prestigious lawyer from the biggest firm in Reno be interested in her, or take so much risk in exposing his dick and groping her in a public park.

Oh I am stupid. Dammit. How could I let myself be fooled like this?

Angry, Peyton picked up a container of paint and threw it at the wall. The lid remained sealed and therefore it dropped to the ground and rolled into a corner.

. . .

"Why are you breathing so heavily? What's wrong? Where are you?"

"C-c-calm down Gab, I'm out on my bike."

"Well stop for heaven's sake, don't ride your bike and talk on the phone," Gabrielle screamed.

Peyton sighed. "I'm not. I'm stopped now. Calm down. What's up?" Peyton kicked off her sandals and sat on a bench. The warm cement under her feet made her drowsy.

Gabrielle recounted the events of her time at the club last night. One tale flowed into the next about men without shirts, lesbian kissing and dancing with drunk strangers.

Peyton dismounted the bike as Gabrielle droned on. She leaned it against a railing and stared up at the sharp clear sky. The very same riverwalk that had been so busy and crowded last evening was scattered with families. A few people floated down the river on inner tubes, but with the water so low, they got stuck on big exposed boulders.

"Well, missy I'm going to get my tail feathers straightened out. Sorry you missed everything. Next time, come with us."

Peyton opened her mouth to enlighten Gabrielle about her steamy evening but decided against it. Gabrielle would launch into her 'mom' routine, scolding and warning Peyton that there are dangerous men in the world.

"Yeah, talk to you later," Peyton blinked in the bright sun, even with her sunglasses on, "oh and by the way - the event is all set up. Wednesday. The old Stationhouse on Sunderland Street."

"What? For shit sake Peyton, why are you having it there? Right across from the dump?"

"It's not right across."

"Might as well be."

"It's a historical building next to the railroad tracks. Anyway, come or don't. Starts at 8PM. Maybe there will be pink Vodka shots and strong Russian men."

"Very funny. Are you kidding, of course I'm coming. I might be a little late. Jenny Bousin is having a wine and cheese thing at the Firehouse Pub."

Peyton rolled her eyes. "That's a sad, trendy dive Gab, what the fuck are you – wait, never mind."

"Yes, yes. But it's so much fun. I'm gonna meet Todd there. He's so delicious, I want to you meet him. I'll bring him to your thing," Gabrielle said and then squealed so loud Peyton yanked the phone away from her ear.

Speaker phone button depressed to prevent more hearing loss, Peyton frowned. "I thought you might bring Grant. But whatever. Bring Todd."

"I'd get you a date but I know I'm wasting my time," Gabrielle said.

"Yep."

"Okay, be safe. Wear your helmet okay? See you next week." And with that, Gabrielle disappeared from the call screen.

Peyton shook out her shoes and slipped them back on her feet. She climbed onto her bike again and started peddling down river, passing some street musicians and people twirling ribbons attached to sticks. A very common scene for a lazy Saturday afternoon in Reno.

. . .

Toes tickling the water of the Truckee River, Peyton sketched in a spiral bound notebook. A bald man wearing suspenders was sitting cross legged on a large rock in the middle of the river. Peyton was sure he was a spy for the government. Or for the water authority. Or just another nut communing with aliens from outer space.

The river was bordered by cement channels that ran along the remainder of the downtown corridor. When the river reached the city limits, it was free to meander along natural borders. Peyton didn't own a car, driving around the city made her anxious and it was too expensive to carry insurance. She often wished she did own something in order to explore areas too far to reach by bicycle.

Her phone made a melodic beep. Peyton grasped it and then put a hand to her mouth.

"Shit," she uttered under her breath.

The front screen notified her of a new message from the Misogynist.

How badly did I scare you last night? [Alex]

I tried looking you up in the FBI's database [Peyton]

And you found me, rt? [Alex]

I'm pretty sure. Did you have a beard in 1982? [Peyton]

Ah, my secret service days [Alex]

I knew you worked for the government [Peyton]

Just not ours [Alex]

I'm pretty convinced you're an axe murderer [Peyton]

A few moments passed without a message from him. Then her phone began to vibrate. She stared at his name dancing on the screen.

"Hi," she answered.

"I owe you you an apology. Booze turns me into a prick. Let me redeem myself."

Peyton pressed her lips together, thinking. "Uh, yeah, okay. Do you really work for Rose, Cutwater and Gephardt?" she asked.

"You have a smart phone, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm sending you a link via text. Open it after we end the call."

"Okay."

He was quiet for a moment and then said, "What are you wearing today?"

Peyton stared down at herself. "Well, since it's so warm, my torn off jeans, I mean shorts, and uh, just a strappy top. You know, general hooker attire."

"Would you take a selfie and send it to me?"

Peyton snorted. "Okay – I guess."

"You're out and about, huh?"

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I can hear noise in the background."

"I'm along the river," she said.

"Toes in the water?" he smiled, picturing her.

"Yes."

"You have a thing against shoes."

"How did you know that?"

"An observational guess."

Awkward silence passed. Peyton struggled to think of something to talk about. "The river is really low."

"Yeah?" Alex said.

"It's beautiful out today though," Peyton said.

"Are we reduced to the weather?"

"You started it. You asked me what I'm wearing. What are you wearing?" Peyton said, a bit irked.

"A suit. Are we going to do this at dinner too?"

"Isn't that what normal people do? Conversation or should we talk about fucking under the table?" Peyton said.

Alex grinned. She had some fire to her. "I'm not sure if I'm impressed by your ability to cut through the crap or you're just being rude. Either way it turns me on. Is that a crime?"

Peyton let out a breath. "No."

"So let's not play games, unless that's what turns you on," he said.

"Why the suit? You're working today? On a Saturday?"

"I had to come into the office and help deal with a shit storm. I'm leaving soon. Just wanted to call and see where we're at for later this evening."

"Oh." Peyton couldn't help notice how his voice changed and became monotone.

"I'll be by at 7PM to get you. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes. Uh, well, what should I wear? I mean, are we going to a nice place?" Her closet was void of dressy clothing. She adorned a black turtleneck for art showings but doubted that would suffice for a date.

"Let's just say it's not upscale. Hip I guess," Alex said.

Great. Hip. Peyton restrained from making a joke. "All right then."

"Don't forget. Send me a selfie and open the link I sent," he said. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Peyton mumbled something back and set the phone down. No makeup, hair coiffed in a bed-head motif, and no bra. A hot mess, perhaps. Trying to straighten herself out was not worth the effort.

She snapped a few photos and wound up with one she could live with. Then she saw the text containing the link from him and clicked on it. The browser opened and took her to the website of Rose, Cutwater, and Gephardt, LLC, Attorneys at Law. It was the profile page. Second from the top was a small picture of Alex, looking very stern. His dossier was impressive, big time law school, and a long boring list of other accomplishments. There were fifteen lawyers in the group, however he was a partner which made him a big fucking deal.

What the hell does this guy want with me? Why does he not find a nice female doctor or stock broker?

. . .

Alex leaned back in his mahogany leather chair staring at the phone and waiting. He got up and went to the windows, dug his thumbs under the waistline of his trousers and stared out at the grand view of downtown and the river.

The door to the office burst open and his colleague stuck his head in. "Are you coming, Alex? Bring the file. I think we're near a deal."

"Yep. Be there in a sec," he said, voice low. Notification of a new message made a repeating sound on his device. The door shut and he grabbed the phone.

She was gorgeous. In such a raw, disheveled, free sort of way. He lingered a moment more over the picture of this nymph, illuminated by harsh midday sun. She cast a spell over his senses and after last night he wondered if it had been a drunken fluke, bewitched by this girl. Seeing her again proved there was significant depth with this one. At least he hoped so.

"Dammit," he clicked the phone off and shoved it in his pocket. He grabbed several papers from his desk and then strode into the hall.

"Hey Cindy, you have the Bergen file?" he spoke to the buxom secretary.

"Right here Mr. Cutwater. They've all gone into the conference room," she smiled with painted red lips. "Let me know if there's...anything else I can do for you."

Alex responded by raising the file up in the air as he proceeded down the corridor but didn't look back. Every day that damn bitch got more and more frustrating. Her bloated tits stuffed into a tight blouse beckoned unnatural thoughts. It had been a nice distraction for a little while but he was sick of her crazy attire and suggestive demeanor at the firm. Just because a month ago he planted his dick inside her big plump ass didn't mean she needed to continue to act like a whore. Maybe it was time for a new secretary. And he wouldn't bend the next one over his $20,000 desk.

Chapter Three - Compliance

Large spiked clouds loomed over the mountains. Peyton started pedaling with a messenger bag slung onto her back. The promise of thunderstorms was real and therefore breaking the dry spell the city was under. The air was laced with humidity instead of the usual bone dryness.

Six hours until he picked her up. Maybe there was more to this lawyer than she obsessed about. Still, it was best to be on guard. He was a physical god, clean cut but in a rugged sort of way.

Nerves were getting the better of her. She hated it. A ruthless round of throwing paint onto a new canvas, just for pleasure, and she felt a lot better.

Hands splattered with acrylic paint, Peyton opened one of the windows. A huge gust blasted its way past her, scattering papers everywhere. The dark clouds from earlier descended over the city and the wind intensified.

A hard knock at her front door jolted Peyton from her fixation with the weather. She grabbed a rag, trying to rub off sticky paint. She threw back the large bolt and heaved on the handle. The sliding door retreated along the upper tracks, revealing her visitor.

"Hiya Cal. Oh no, that isn't what I think it is?" Peyton's smile turned to a disgruntled frown.

"Yeah, how's it going Peyton. More building improvements. I know, it's a burden to everyone. That's why you pay such high rent – to keep this place looking so pretty," the skinny male said. "Ooh, wow, is that it?" He caught a glimpse behind her of a large painting.

"Yes, this is it," she said, grabbing her hips and cocking her head to the side, studying it for the millionth time.

"It's amazing Peyton." Cal stepped over to where she stood. "Truly remarkable. Whatever they are paying you for this one – it's not enough."

"I hate it. But you're coming to the show – this Wednesday at the old Stationhouse?

"Sure. You bet. I wouldn't miss it."

"I know, you're sweet. You come to all my stuff," she said. Cal was an amazing artist, but in a very different genre. He worked with textiles and sometimes clay. Cutting edge works, but not very lucrative for him. In recent years he put out very little and Peyton felt sad for him. He suffered through a terrible break up with his partner, Chris. Long summer nights were spent drinking martinis and watching old movies.

Peyton cherished a few good friends like Cal, she had more respect for him than the out of control types like Gabrielle.

"What did you say about some clothes? Do you have a date young lady?"

"I do, I do. Astonishing. Not sure about him yet, Cal. Out of my league I think."

"Oh poo. Nobody is out of your league. Wait – I have something you can probably wear."

"Uh -"

Cal laughed at her reaction. "No, no, my sister, Jenny left a bunch of her things when she came to visit earlier this summer. You know how Wisconsin is - she didn't have anything to wear here in Reno, so she bought like a ton of cute stuff. It might be big on you, but you're welcomed to take any of it. I was going to load up a box and dump it at the mission."

"Uh, well, okay. Your sister has good taste, from what I saw."

"Oh honey, she's a fashion snob from hell. We sure share that in common." Cal waved his arm and snapped his fingers.

"Well that sounds good, I just need a dress. How about I come down in a bit?" Peyton said, walking him to the door.

"Take your time. I'm home all day. Going to make Jitters his favorite tuna casserole."

"And they say I need to get out more," Peyton laughed. "Why do lonely art people always own cats? Are we one step away from the mental asylum?"

"Well at least you have a date. If you want your hair done, let me know. Jenny left all her beauty contraptions also. I don't know what to do with it all." Cal did a little wave and sauntered down the hallway. Peyton watched him go. Still grasping the flyer about the building construction, she pushed the door closed and collapsed onto a huge orange chaise in the middle of the room and within five minutes she had fallen asleep.

. . .

Peyton slid across the floor missing a head on collision with the dividing wall to the bedroom. Alex was either a race car driver or traveled by helicopter. He mentioned last night living south of town, which was at least 45 minutes in traffic, what the hell was he doing here so quick? He texted fifteen minutes ago that he was leaving his house, "in the hills". Peyton thought she'd have more time to get ready.

She buzzed him into the garage and figured he was smart, he could find her flat, #10A, while she fixed her tresses.

Cal insisted on experimenting on Peyton with a curling iron of his sister's. The results were horrifying. Straight blond locks morphed into big bouncy curls. Brushing them out didn't work, it just made her hair fluffy. She worked fast to thread the reckless hair into a long braid. So it spoke 'country bumpkin'. She didn't care.

I'm at your front door [Alex]

Let yourself in, pull hard [Peyton]

"Mmkay," Alex said to himself. She lived in a very different sort dwelling. He was intrigued at first but after entering what struck him as a modified warehouse, a sharp snag pierced the pit of his stomach.

Give it some time you idiot. She's not the typical wench you end up screwing much too often.

"Peyton?" he called out.

"Fix yourself a drink. I'll be a minute," she said from the other room.

"You have no doors except one. Okay..." Alex said to himself. He found a narrow open cabinet stashed with alcohol, near what seemed to be the kitchen. Everything was open. The entry, living room and kitchen were all one huge room. And then the designated area she created paintings. Huge bright lights illuminated certain sections of the flat from above. There were tall cases stacked with a myriad of books on a strange variety of subjects. Paintbrushes standing on end in jars were perched on the window sills, kitchen counter and bookcases. Even the floor.

Alex poured a splash of French vodka into a couple glasses.

"How do you take yours?" he asked.

"Ice," she said.

...and with a bit of cherry soda, but she was out.

He plunked a square ice cube from a strange industrial freezer and strode into the middle of the room. An over-sized bright orange chaise served as her couch. A few chairs were against the windows, filled with more books. Bar stools surrounded a massive table. He placed the drinks on the wooden table, studying the piece of furniture like it was an alien space craft.

"Sorry I took so long," Peyton appeared, "what's the matter?" She watched him slide his hand along the slatted table surface, inspecting the underside.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Oh, I made it. Long time ago. I suck at building. It took me weeks," she said grasping one of the drinks.

"It's very good," he said, astonished.

"Oh thanks."

"No – I mean it Peyton. This is furniture store-worthy."

"Eh, I dunno about that." She slurped the vodka and winced as it burned going down.

"Sorry should of put more - ice" Alex had been so caught up in her apartment and table, he didn't take full notice of her presence until that moment. "Look at you. Fuck." He gazed upon her. No longer the disheveled, hot mess from the prior evening, Peyton had transformed herself into a stunning jaw dropper.

"I clean up well, right?" Peyton was nervous. She hated nerves. Hated them. Hated anyone who provoked such unstable feelings in her.

Alex was at a loss for words, which was a rare thing. He gently took her hand and brought it up to his mouth and kissed several of her fingers. The desire to suck on them was great.

Later...

"You are a bit of a quandary to me."

"Is that a bad thing?" she said, still out of breath

"No. I still want to fuck you."

"Oh thank god, I thought we were going to do the honeymoon thing all night," she quipped.

Alex swallowed his drink and set the glass down. "I'll be good through dinner, but no promises after that."

"Fair enough."

"May I use your restroom?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, let me show you -" Peyton hoped he was open minded. She led him through the opening in the dividing wall into another large room, or rather, two long connected rooms. Her sleeping area was at one end, with a big bed, the sheets mangled on one side. Stacks of books and a couple wood crates served as nightstands. The opposite end was the bathroom.

"Wow, talk about open concept. We really should of just gotten naked in public last night – you have a lot of practice," Alex said looking around.

"I'm the only one here all the time. Well, okay -" she shuffled over to the wall and grasped a big fabric curtain with red circles. It was attached to a swinging arm above. She pulled it, providing a slight increase in privacy.

I never would of pegged a person like you to live like this. Were your parents free spirited hippies?"

"No. Quite the opposite. You make it sound like I live in the dark ages." She grabbed her hips beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

Alex studied her for a moment.

She wasn't leaving.

"You gonna hurry up? Rain is coming and I'm starving." She went over to a sink and stared at herself in an oval mirror attached to the wall. She grasped a zippered makeup pouch from a ledge and started to rummage through it. Alex was a bit dumbfounded.

He had just been handed his hat.

"What?" she said, making a face in the mirror.

"Oh nothing," he uttered and began to unfasten his trousers.

"Sorry." She gave a sly smile after applying crimson color to her lips, parted the curtain and disappeared.

Bashful? No..not the right word. Immodest? Perhaps.

A thread of anticipation ran up his spine. This girl was full of surprises.

. . .

Alex commanded the Mercedes around another tight turn without so much as a tiny uptick in the motor. Rain pummeled the windshield as the wipers attempted clear the deluge.

"I knew it was going to rain," Peyton said.

"There you go talking about the weather again."

Peyton shot him a nasty look. Alex touched the top of her hand in an unexpected gesture.

"I don't suppose you have a woman's coat in the trunk?"

"Sure, I have a few," he teased. "It's not too cold. It might be after dinner. You can have my jacket."

"Such a gentleman." Peyton stared out the window. "Can I ask where we're going?"

"Well I thought I'd do the typical male courting and take you to a secluded little place that gives me the upper hand at taking advantage of you."

"Does your libido control everything in life or is it able to discriminate?"

Alex couldn't contain a laugh. "I'm trying hard, I really am." Then he grew serious and took a slow breath. "Call it cliché Peyton – I work hard, play hard. Long hours, coupled with a lot of intense, difficult cases. I decided some years ago, I wasn't going to make excuses to women I find attractive, it's just not worth it to put on an act or be someone I'm not."

Peyton nodded. "I get it. I appreciate your honesty."

"Right now, I'm not looking for something serious. I'm actually being a bit conservative with you."

"Sounds like a warning."

"Could be. You've seen the tip of the iceberg." He grinned.

She couldn't resist. "And it is some iceberg." Peyton flashed a smile. "So let me get this straight, you're not looking for a friend?"

"No."

"Well I guess we'll just see what happens," she said, hanging on for dear life as they sped around another sharp bend in the narrow road.

Alex knew he was being an asshole in some respects but given his financially comfortable life, attractive looks and charismatic demeanor, he became mixed up with the wrong sort of females far too often. Bitches that sponged off him, used him to their advantage or played games and created drama. It always ended with someone offended or emotionally hurt. The past few years were a trail of pathetic leaches.

Peyton was sharp, self confident and danced to the beat of her own drum. A bit naïve but maybe that was nerves.

. . .

The death ride was over. Peyton exited the vehicle and wobbled. High heels were a foreign concept for her feet and she couldn't wait to kick them off inside the restaurant. Rain subsided for now but a light mist hung in the air.

Offering his arm for support, Alex helped her up brick steps to the main door. Inside they were greeted by a gaunt waitress with greasy hair and seated at a rear booth. He wasted no time ordering wine and appetizers. Witness to Peyton's weak tolerance to alcohol he figured it was best to start with something light.

"For such an out of the way place, there's a lot of people here," she said.

"Their food is amazing. The fish is fresh and you won't find a better cut of beef in all of Nevada."

The waitress returned with two large glasses of red wine. Sporting a tiny buzz from the vodka earlier, Peyton waited for the appetizers to arrive before sipping the red drink.

"The wine is local as well. It's quite good," Alex said, reading the menu. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"You are sort of a snob."

"Am I?" he said still scanning the menu.

"Not the first time you've heard that I'll bet."

"Nope and not the last. I can't stand all the deep fried, salty crap at the casinos. And most of the trendy joints downtown are lacking in any real cuisine. Everything is gluten free, dairy free, tastes like a cardboard box and cooked by a guy named Bartholomew Bob."

"Oh my gosh I know him."

Alex looked over with a furrowed brow.

"I'm just kidding," she teased.

He tasted his wine and suggested she do the same. After sampling various appetizers, the main course arrived and Peyton attempted to excuse herself. The hum of voices in the small restaurant drowned out hers and therefore Peyton moved closer and spoke into his ear.

He lay down his fork and sat back. "Did you buy this dress for tonight?"

"No I borrowed it," she said, staring into her lap for a moment. "Doesn't meet with your approval?"

"I approve very much." He took a bite of food, wiped his mouth and placed his fork on the side of the plate.

They were sitting so close together in the booth that their legs touched. Alex toyed with her bare shoulder and then ran his fingers slowly down her backside until reaching her taut little ass. Some of the dress fabric had gathered up from sitting, and he fussed with it while dipping a finger into the crimson juice from his tenderloin. Peyton watched with reserved breath, waiting to find out what this little act was about.

"How's your food?" he asked.

"Very good. Don't you like yours?"

"Rather delicious," he said in a low voice. He swiped the mashed potatoes and brought it to her lips. Locking her eyes with his, Peyton allowed him to penetrate her mouth. His finger strayed a moment, teasing the inside of her lower lip.

"So I take it you don't want me to get up and use the ladies' room?" Peyton said in a soft voice.

"I do. The last thing I want is for your discomfort to linger," he said, hot breath down the side of her cheek. "I have a request however."

Of course.

"What?"

"If you don't do it, I'm going to send you back until you comply," he said.

Peyton leaned in close. "What make you think I won't comply?"

Alex removed his cloth napkin from the resting position on his leg and dragged it into his lap. A finger under the thin shoulder strap of her dress, drew a slow, methodical circle on her skin. He whispered his demented little fantasy into her ear.

Peyton's neck grew hot. She said nothing but nodded. Futile to argue with him, yet in some far corner of her mind she was intrigued. It was hard to imagine he would do anything crude or unacceptable in this restaurant. He knew the staff and menu well. Why jeopardize future visits?

His voice was low and smokey. Words drifted into her ear of his request. Peyton instantly felt a knot in her stomach.

She carefully placed her napkin on the table and Alex scooted, finally standing. He offered a hand to her aide which she graciously accepted. Not sure whether to allow herself to play victim of this gentlemanly spell or consider the more likely possibility that this courting was foreplay in advance of what he hoped to do later. The carnal force inside of him would show at some point. Peyton wasn't fooled.

A wave of bashfulness struck her as she made her way down a dark hallway. Nobody was in the small lavatory and she paused, taking a cavernous, albeit shaky breath.

This is kids stuff. No big deal. He's a hormonal high school boy. Just do it. Nobody will know. Play along.

Peyton entered a stall and locked it behind herself. She hurriedly used the toilet but instead of pulling up her undergarments when finished she let the slinky black pair of panties fall to the floor. Staring at them like they almost didn't belong to her, she reached down with a shaky hand. After wading them into a tight little ball, she shoved them into her clutch purse. Caught up in thought, thankful nobody else was in the restroom, she fought to slide the lock back on the door. It gave a jolt and relented after a tense moment.

"Shit," she uttered traipsing up to the mirrors. "Why do I feel like a slut?" Even her characteristic rosy red lips were pale. A long blond lock of hair wavered to the side of her face. Most of it was still gathered at the back of her head but she assumed not for much longer. She grabbed the fabric of the dress, wrestling with it even though it was in full cooperation of hiding her naked lower half underneath.

Since her shoes were underneath the table, she returned to Alex without any hint of arrival. He was sitting, waiting. He had neglected to finish his dinner until her return.

Peyton forced a smile and slipped back into the booth.

"Sorry," she said.

"For?"

"Taking so long. Your food is going to be cold."

"Hardly. This room is at least ninety degrees."

Peyton nodded. The restaurant did have a small fire crackling away in a stone hearth.

She waited for a round of probing questions regarding the absence of her underwear but he remained silent. The waitress checked on their progress and desires for anything further. Alex ordered some coffee.

A loud snarling clap of thunder boomed overhead sending a few muffled reactions from the patronage.

"Not hungry anymore?" he said observing her half eaten meal.

"I'm full. This is a lot."

"They are generous with their portions."

"You come here often I take it?" Peyton asked.

"Mmm. Not often. When I can. Work prevents me," he said and smoothed a hand over her bare leg. Peyton was overcome with goosebumps. She grabbed onto his hand under the table, coaxed his palm face up and traced imaginary outlines on his skin. He was caught off guard for a moment but Peyton took notice of him re-adjusting the napkin in his lap. And if it's purpose was to hide his enlarging cock, it wasn't working.

She placed her hand on top of his and slid it up the inside of her leg. Heart beating irregularly, she balked for a split second, trying to squash thoughts of how wrong this was, and then brought his hand against her, removing all doubt that she was indeed wearing no undergarment. The fleeting touch of his finger against her damp skin ignited a firestorm within her body.

"At some point we do need to walk out of here," he said and leaned close. His mouth met hers in a forceful kiss. As he withdrew, hot, fragrant breath filled her senses.

"Why did you ask me to do this?" she whispered.

"Because it turns me on. Because I like to see how far I can take things. How vulnerable people are willing to get."

"You really are a lawyer."

"I think I mentioned that."

"So this all goes toward your fantasy of fucking in public?" she asked.

"Yes, you could conclude that."

"Tsk, tsk. You're wearing pants. I don't see how we're going to get away with sex right here, right now, with you so packaged up like that," Peyton said.

"Maybe it's time we go," he said and took a drink of coffee. His dick wasn't about to cooperate anytime soon. He withdrew a $100 bill from his wallet and left it on the table.

"Why don't I meet you out front. I'll just be a moment," he said.

"No," she said and grabbed the fabric of his shirt.

"No?"

She leaned close to him and threaded a hand underneath his arm. "I'm not letting you off that easy."

"Uh, Peyton -"

"Uh nothing. A little suffering never hurt anyone." Reaching up for a kiss, her hand inadvertently grazed the bulge in his pants. He met her lips, but true to form, she pulled away in a flash and crouched down to grasp her shoes.

"Here." She offered his coat to him. "Camouflage. For that situation you got going on."

"What makes me think this isn't your first time arousing a man in public -" he said grasping the garment.

A wicked little smile across her lips and she mouthed, "I'm ready."

"Aren't you going to put those on?" he motioned to the shoes.

"No. I'd rather walk in the rain barefoot." She nudged him.

Outside cold drizzle greeted them. Alex shook his coat and covered her in one swoop.

"Stay here, I'll get the car," he said.

"Don't bother, I can make it," she insisted.

Alex took a step back and scooped her up off the ground. He carried her to the car and set her down in a puddle. He opened the door and before getting inside, Peyton kissed him hard on the mouth.

"We need to get the hell out of here," he said, withdrawing from the embrace.

Peyton flashed a teasing smile and sank into the passenger seat.

Chapter Four - Detour

They had been driving for about twenty minutes before the need to stop became urgent. The booze combined with caffeine created an unpleasant situation for Alex.

"What is this place?" Peyton sat up, and disengaged her seat belt. "It seems abandoned."

"Yep." He pulled up along a row of deteriorated buildings and quickly shut the engine off. "I'll be back in a minute."

She watched him disappear behind thick weeds growing next to a cement wall.

The exterior of the buildings was in great deterioration. Vines riddled with sharp thorns grew up the sides of some structures all the way to the roof tops. Cracked stucco and paint chips littered the ground. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Peyton wondered if this was a former military base. There were lots of these strange outposts in the desert. Rumors that they were haunted or afflicted by an evil force cropped up every now and then. Teenagers looking to screw around would get themselves into trouble and hauled off by law enforcement. Reno was a large sprawling city but the outskirts was littered with bizarre secrets.

The driver side door opened, startling Peyton. His shirt tails were no longer tucked into his trousers and his hair was glistening from the rain.

"It's a former military vehicle testing center. Out in the hills they used to crash big Humvees and tanks. Kind of left to rot at this point," Alex said after sitting back down in the car.

"Yes, it seem seem like the desert is working quickly to destroy it."

"There's a bunch of underground bunkers with an entire network of tunnels," Alex said and coughed.

"So not really a public place, I guess it won't suffice. Maybe we can head to the mall, find a dressing room. You ever do it in a dressing room?" she asked, trying not to smile.

"That – now, that's a bit risky. Cameras pose a unique problem. From an audible standpoint, it's not the best either."

"Oh I see, so the fantasy is just that, once the reality is deconstructed," she licked her bottom lip, "I'm wondering if I'm ever going to get a peek at that cock of yours again." And with that she grasped the door handle and yanked.

The wet ground was cold. Peyton splashed along in her bare feet, hoping not to step on a thorn or broken glass. Half stunned, Alex flung his door open and started after her. She splashed down some steps into a large courtyard. The fronts of the buildings all faced inward. Many of the doors were left wide open and rain poured off the rooves due to an absence of gutters.

Peyton didn't have much of a head start. She darted into a breezeway, and then down another.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Alex's voice boomed from behind. He slowed, coming upon her standing in an open door of a large office. Dry leaves coated most of the exposed floor boards, many were missing. Alex came up behind her and wrapped a muscular arm around her waist. Thoughts of taking her right there taunted him.

"The military is known to still patrol this place," he said, vaporous steam coming from his mouth.

"Too bad they don't invest in some fences then," she said and twisted around. "I'm tired of waiting."

Alex gazed at the office through the door. "Didn't plan on this being the first place we'd fuck."

"Won't be the last, come on," she said and kissed him hard. She pulled backward and took a few steps into the office. Playfully, she hiked up one side of her dress, enough so that he still couldn't get an appropriate look at her.

"Careful," he said observing the unstable floor. "Over here," he motioned to a chair behind a large desk in the middle of the room. "I should get a truck and take this thing. Solid oak." He sat down and gestured for her to come up to him. Slowly he ran his touch up her legs, and dragged the hem of the dress up around her waist. Peyton shivered. His tongue tickled her swollen clit. But subtle tastes were not his intention.

Even without anyone else around she restrained herself from making sound. The lower half of his face became buried into her. His tongue gained entrance and brought her to the brink of climaxing.

Alex ran a hand around her bottom and stood, leaving her in the throws of momentary confusion. He ripped off his belt and tore down his slacks. "Turn around, lean over," he said.

Peyton grabbed the old desk and tried to contain a visceral moan at the back of her throat.

Alex fought savage weakness to a substantive introduction of his swollen cock. A slow introduction was well intended until her taut little corridor encased him. A raw, aching need tormented him.

Peyton dug her fingernails into the side of the wood desk, delirious with unexpected augmentation of Alex. A bit unsettled though – she could tell he was holding back. Constraining his desires to salaciously fuck. Instead he grappled with performing nice, gentlemanly intercourse. It was very considerate but she hated it.

A flash of light illuminated the room and few minutes later growling thunder followed.

"I think our little storm has followed us," he said. Alex pulled her upward, against his body with his cock still inside. "I forgot to ask one small thing," he breathed raggedly into her ear, "is it all right to come inside you?" His fingers danced around her swollen flesh.

Ah, explains why he was being so tame...

"Yes. Although it's all right to come outside of me too, if you choose to do so in the future -" she said and then lapsed into an explosive orgasm. The upright positioning alone made her release expeditiously brutal.

"Thanks for clearing that up," he coarsely uttered and coaxed her forward onto the desk again. A hand on her hip bone and few more sweet, expeditious thrusts afforded a volatile yet lingering emanation from his cranky cock. Swearing, Alex clenched her luscious, sublime buttocks, staring at the fusion of their bodies. The devil in him couldn't be contained and he carefully introduced the tip of his finger to her throbbing pink little ass. She gave a slight squeak, and he reassured it would go no further. After a second she relaxed and he played with her until withdrawing himself.

Inhibitions returning, but still out of breath, Peyton twisted around and clutched her chest. No surprise he was still hard. Rain dropped down from holes in the roof above and another clap of thunder boomed.

Alex was tempted to beleaguer the moment but he was pretty confident the military was aware of their presence and he didn't need to get caught with his dick hard and his pants down. Not by the government anyway.

"We should go. I'll take you up on that offer to fuck at your place," he said, fooling with his pants.

"Oh you mean the offer from yesterday? What makes you think it's still available?" she said grasping his outstretched hand.

"Because, somewhere in your mind you're asking yourself what would it be like to get naked with this guy and have him provoke unfathomable urges from you – without being in a public place. Because up till now, nobody has fully released the sexual beast inside of you."

"My, my. Your ego just might be bigger than your dick Alex."

"That's not ego talking."

"No?"

"I'm pretty confident I can knock your pretty little socks off."

"I'm not wearing any."

"See what I mean?" A wicked smile spread across his mouth. "Can we go? I'm actually nervous to hang around too long."

They made way back up the corridors before another onslaught of thunder. Once in the car Alex hit the ignition button and it roared to life. He cranked the heater up high, as they were both soaked and body heat from their passionate interlude had faded. He spun the vehicle around and was back on the highway in no time.

Peyton slumped in her seat with wet hair stuck to the side of her face. She watched the rain slam against the windshield and make trails off the glass. "Curious," she said.

"What is?"

"How many others have you brought to that place?" she half smiled in his direction.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "You're the first. But I know you don't believe that."

"You're a lawyer, you're supposed to tell the truth."

"Which I do. But I would say, don't ask any questions you don't want to hear the answers to."

. . .

The night proceeded with powerful thunderstorms. Heavy monsoonal moisture was moving up from the south and meeting with unstable air over the Sierra Mountain range. The National Weather Bureau warned that by morning there could be flash flooding and a rapid rise in the river.

"What if I took you right here," Alex said watching her fumble with the key.

"Then do it," she said and pointed to a security cameras high up in the corner of the hallway.

"You haven't learned by now?" He kissed the back of her neck.

"Right. The thrill of getting caught or seen." Peyton grabbed the door handle and gave a heave. It retracted in a stubborn groan. "I can leave this open if it would feed your fantasy," she said.

A playful swat on her bottom and then Alex disappeared toward the bathroom. Peyton set her phone and keys on the table and stared at the rain pummeling the kitchen windows. An exasperating thought plagued her and no amount of obsessing and toying with how to approach the subject lessened her anxiety. It was best to leave it alone and let the night unfold.

Peyton yawned migrated to the bedroom. Some sexual hellcat she was. He would be disappointed that her stamina did not match his. She crawled on top of the bed, smoothed the covers out and switched on a small floor lamp.

Alex produced himself from the bathroom area wearing his pants but no shirt. She crawled under a blanket and stared up at him.

He lay down next to her and began running his fingers through damp, tangled hair.

"Tell me what's wrong," he asked.

"Tired. If you want to go, I won't hold it against you," she said.

"Ah. I have been bestowed the honor of typical male shithead. Lusting, exhaustive affair with talented female who deserves a great deal more than a filthy rich playboy. The trail of collateral damage grows, leaving such a tender lass drowning in a sea of insecurity. Sound right?"

"Are you filthy rich?"

"Moderately rich," he said.

"Well, whatever. No idea what the hell all that meant. I'm just cutting through the usual bull. No hard feelings if you want to fool around and then leave. I know how this works."

"You know how it has worked. Perhaps this time is different."

"That would require too much effort."

"The truth of the matter is I wasn't thinking of leaving. I've nobody to go home to, except my work. Big empty house with laptop on standby." He coaxed her to lay on her side.

"You don't have to do this to be nice," she said.

"I'm not nice. I do what I want." He kissed the top of her shoulder. "Shit, you're all damp from the rain, take this thing off."

Peyton sat up and let him peel the clammy dress from her body.

"Jeezus you're beautiful," he said gazing upon her fair skin and perfectly formed features.

"Beautiful if you like small boobs and a stick body.." Peyton pushed him down to the bed and sat on top. "But thanks anyway for saying that."

"That's fucking utter crap." He wrapped his hands around her diminutive waist, enjoying the subtle writhing she was performing against his aching cock. One hand migrated to her taut belly and then cupped the base of a breast. He grazed a thumb over her nipple and felt it harden immediately. He watched closely for a reaction but her face remained expressionless.

"Seriously Peyton. Take what men say with a grain of salt. We can be huge pricks."

"Easier said than done," she smiled.

He took a breath, not believing what was about to come out of his mouth. A change of positions and he hovered above, bodies barely touching. Gazing hungrily at her neck he said in a raspy voice, "I want to make love to you."

Peyton snorted, "What happened to fucking?"

"Tabled for the moment." He smiled. "I'm going to take you nice and slow."

Peyton opened her mouth to try and find the right words, but he met her in a kiss instead. This time his tongue was not the savage serpent in her mouth but a coaxing, sensual extension of himself.

Old habits die hard. The urge to service himself with little energy spent on the vested party was so commonplace. He needed to be better than that if he wanted to ever see this girl again. It was clear her doubts had taken a strong foothold.

Both hands encircled one plump, perfectly sublime breast while he kissed and teased a nipple. Beneath him she squirmed in response to his seductive efforts. Lower he explored until reaching the luscious flesh between her legs. She smelled divine and he fought the urge to enter.

It had been a good long time since drawing upon some stray skills at pleasuring a woman. A dose of self control was required. He had become so damned accustomed to fast, meaningless sex with powerful women. Uptight in the courtroom, out of control in the bedroom. They lacked something though...and now he was remembering what it was.

"Alex, Alex -" she called but he paid no attention. He was lost, stroking her, tasting her. An arch of her back and the contractions enveloped her like crushing wave. Still he did not stop. Dizzy, she stared down at this man between her legs. Resisting was futile. Giving in wasn't so easy either.

A blinding flash and then darkness. The storm knocked out the power in an instant. Alex bolted upright instantaneously and wavered for a moment to catch his breath.

"Wouldn't happen to have a generator would you? Candles? A torch? No fireplace in this joint?" Making generative, carnal love by the glow of a fire, now that needed to be placed on a list of things to do with Peyton.

Alex crawled over her covetous body. Another flash illuminated the room. Due to the absence of curtains over the tall windows, the night sky was showing off with ferocity. He hopped to the floor and shed his trousers.

Peyton seized on the opportunity. The cover of darkness gave birth to a drop in inhibitions and she took him in her mouth.

"Shit -" Alex growled, caught off guard. With her luscious mouth sweetening his cock to a profound girth, he was about to provide a hearty taste of thick, hot ejaculate. Never one to expel his contents in low volume, Alex couldn't bring himself to give her a mouthful of himself just yet.

"Lay down," he commanded. Her lips lowly dragged backward along his shaft He watched her languidly encircle her lips with her tongue. Alex bit the side of his mouth so hard he tasted blood.

"So much for slow..." he said and plunged into her. He ground expeditiously deep and then pushed one of her legs to the side, groaning as her slick chasm constricted like a snake around his cock.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he bantered her entrance with the head of his cock. Swearing violently through gritted teeth as thick ejaculate jutted from his tip. He played with his essence, coating her swollen nub of flesh, teasing, agitating her until Peyton cried out, sacrificing her restraint to jolting waves of a hearty orgasm.

Alex crawled over her like a beast content with its prey. Damp hair hanging over his eyes, he descended and sampled her hot, delicious mouth. She coiled her legs around his body, enticing a tight seal between them.

"Keep this up and sleep will be an after thought -" she said, recoiling from his penetrating kiss. She smiled at his sneaking attempts at keeping her aroused. Fingers still hunting for sparks that would ignite another firestorm. He wasn't trying with too much ambition however, realizing she was laboring under heavy exhaustion.

As usual, Alex was plagued with an absence of relaxation after carnal pleasures. He covered her naked body with a blanket and strode to the windows, gazing out at the unrelenting rain and soggy city below.

"You're not supposed to stand next to windows in a thunderstorm," Peyton said in a muffled voice.

"Why is that?" he asked. "I've heard people say that every since I was small. Does the glass transfer electricity?"

"I dunno. You're the lawyer."

"Quite right. I'm not a scientist however."

He heard her murmur something unintelligible before she lapsed into sleep. A glance at his watch revealed the lateness of the hour, or rather the earliness. 2:34AM. No matter. Time had been well spent.

. . .

Peyton poured hot dark coffee into two clear glass coffee mugs. She added a small spoonful of sugar and dash of milk to one. Clueless how he took his morning brew, she covered it with a plate to keep it warm.

In thirty minutes two professional art movers were coming to wrap her work for delivery to the Stationhouse. The cruel joke was that even though the rain had ceased, another storm was forming. Time was of the essence to get the huge piece of work moved before the rains started again.

Once she allowed a piece to be shown at the initial revealing, word usually spread fast. Wealthy types with fat bank accounts would start calling her agent, Barbara, and requests for work would start flowing.

Peyton sipped her coffee and stared out the window at the raging Truckee River. The muddy water struggled to stay contained within its banks.

A noise behind her announced that her guest was finally awake. Alex lingered, in no apparent hurry to leave this morning. He could be trying to prove her wrong, after her pathetic speech last night.

"I'm wondering -"

"Yes? Coffee?" she asked.

He placed a hand on her neck at which she flinched and spun around.

"Oh, Alex I get it, the whole morning – thing," she said in awe of the sultry look in his eyes. "I have movers coming for that -" she pointed to the painting, "in less than thirty minutes."

"Five minutes, three if you cooperate," he said and kissed her deeply.

"And what if I don't cooperate?"

He kissed her hard in response. His fingers languidly slipped underneath the elastic of her panties, and gained entrance to a damp, constricted chamber.

"You've already completed the ground work - fuck."

"What does that mean?" she rasped.

"Are you always this wet or is it just me?"

"I dunno. Haven't had a man with a hand inside my pants this often since 2012."

"I doubt that." He gazed deeply into her eyes while motioning come hither inside of her with two fingers. She grabbed onto his forearm, digging blunt nails into his skin. His touch beckoned with more ambition. Relentless eye contact gave clues that he was getting closer.

Peyton swore senseless words as his fingers remained steadfast inside of her. More pressure, deeper and finally he found the particular rhythm and location to unlocking an orgasm. Her muscles seized and released in tiny convulsions yet Alex didn't stop. She became so saturated, clear fluid began to slide down the inside of her leg. A shuddering eclipse exploded from her core and radiated to the rest of her body.

Alex removed his cock from the constraints of the underwear he had slept in and rubbed himself against her inner thigh. The crimson, pulsating head of his dick glistening with her fluid. Taking a thumb on top and two fingers under himself, he cajoled a bead of ejaculate from the tip. Shaking, Peyton wasn't sure she could watch. Rogue shyness stubbornly appeared.

Alex took a breath as he had denied his body air to control this little act. He grasped her hand and used her thumb to drag the cum away. Another pulsation and then a larger burst of creamy liquid erupted.

Alex was nowhere near done. He commanded her hand down, between his legs, mating her hand to his testicles. She clutched and squeezed and released. Alex let out a groan and grabbed the edge of the counter behind her. His body produced a final thick extract with certain force. Lowering into her, his mouth engulfed her in a hard kiss.

Alex then retracted, oxygen deprived. His heavy serum slowly traveled down the front of her, finding serenity in soft curly pubic hair.

Peyton grabbed onto his arm to aid in skewed balance. How he even possessed the energy after their interlude at the abandoned military compound and then more salacious screwing around at home, was a bit of a quandary.

A heavy pounding at the door ripped them both from a moment of recovery. Peyton screamed for the movers to wait and fled into the bedroom. Alex slowly followed.

"Fuck," she said in a hurry, grasping clothes off the floor. Alex watched the frenzied display and then collapsed backward on the bed.

He rubbed his eyes. Visions of work returned. "I need get my ass going," he said to himself. Peyton was already at the door, apologizing to the movers.

Five minutes later, dressed, looking a bit worn out, Alex emerged from the bedroom with an empty coffee cup. He rested it on the table and headed for the door.

"Hang on – I'll be just a minute," she said to the men and hurried over to Alex. She followed him into into the corridor.

"Uh, what should I say? The kitchen. Last night. I guess nothing needs saying. Thank you for dinner and -"

He placed a finger to her lips coaxing vocal submission. Warm breath laced with the musky scent of coffee coated her senses. His hot mouth grew near and she impatiently met him in a fervid kiss. For Alex, an intended quick taste didn't suffice and his mouth lingered. Removing himself from this girl was difficult in all aspects.

The lateness of the morning pestered his thoughts. He placed a hand under her jaw line and beleaguered the moment until pulling away. Peyton grew quiet and leaned against the retracted door. She watched him descend along the hall and wrestled with pangs of uncertainty.

"I'll see you soon," he said, looking back once.

"Okay," she said under her breath and waited until he disappeared down the stairwell.

A bit unsettled, Peyton returned to the movers to make sure they took every precaution in careful wrapping and packaging of her work. Once finished, she watched her painting move to freight elevator and sent a text to Barbara.

Peyton returned to her now cold cup of coffee and nuked it in the microwave. Her reflection in the window spoke of a luminous, albeit disheveled appearance. Inside she was fighting with insecurities, hyper thoughts and visions of what she and Alex had done in the course of the last twelve hours. A man. A stranger. A risk.

"Dammit," she uttered and put a hand to her forehead. "I can't believe this."

She threw down a crimson red pillow against the Big Wall and descended with her cup of coffee. A quick peek at the front screen of her phone and Peyton's heart sank a little. Oblivious to the outside world in the last twelve hours, it was disheartening to step back into drama and conflict. At least twenty texts from Gabrielle and two missed calls.

"This can't be good," Peyton said.

Chapter Five – Demonic Pigs

Alex fingered the page on his daily calendar and ripped it off. Tuesday stared at him in a cruel way. Time sped up when least expected and slowed down when inconvenient. He picked up the desk phone and dialed a three numbered extension. Today's agenda was neatly outlined on a paper that lay on top of several large legal files. Little hearts posing as dots of i's and one j, were prompting him to confront his flirtatious secretary.

"Hi Alex," a rough voice spoke. "I was going to call after lunch. Didn't think we'd hear anything until then."

Alex heard the familiar squeak of his colleague's desk chair in the background.

"Yeah, David, I'm actually calling about another matter. What's the protocol for finding a new secretary?"

A gruff chuckle and then David Rose III thought a moment. "You hired her Alex. We all maintain lower staff individually. Thought it was always best that way. She giving you trouble?"

"I'm afraid her professionalism has slipped," he said.

Another rumbling chuckle from the firm's senior partner. "Right. Well, give her two weeks notice, have her sign the standard non discrimination clause and get security to watch her clean out her things and escort her from the building. Simple as that."

Simple?

"Got it. I'll let you know if I hear anything on the Berger Case, the judge is taking his time on this one."

"Don't I know it. Will do. Let me know if I can be of further assistance with your – other matter."

"Thanks David. Speak to you after lunch," Alex said and replaced the handset.

Fuck.

He loathed interviewing new secretaries. His overheated loins chose the latest disaster. Maybe the whole debacle could wait.

After pacing in front of the windows, he sat down and grabbed his smartphone from the edge of the desk.

Another messy situation. Literally...

Peyton was asking for the 3rd time if Alex wanted to go to this showing or reveal of her artwork tomorrow. They had not spoken since parting ways Sunday morning. If she needed daily contact for reassurance he wasn't the one to provide such trivial support.

A loud buzz broke through the intercom. He set the phone down hard and raised his voice, "Yes, what is it?"

"A woman called from Dallager Associates. Wanted to remind you of tonight's networking meeting," the chirpy voice said.

"Where is it again?"

"The Grey Hawk Golf Resort, in the clubhouse."

Shit. All the way up the Pyramid Highway.

"Time?"

"Starts at 7PM."

"All right, fine. RSVP."

"Okay sir. One other thing," she said, voice uneven.

"Yes what is it?"

"Shall I order lunch?"

Alex ripped the itinerary with all the hearts off his desk and crumpled it.

"No, thanks. Anything else?" he said, temper rising.

"No."

He flipped the intercom switch off, sat back and threaded his fingers together behind his dark brown hair. Damned networking events. Utter waste of time. This one he should show up to, unfortunately. His eyes settled on his smartphone and visions of Peyton flashed before him. She would be out of her element if he invited her. A bunch of stuffy, pompous lawyers talking about boring cases. Not something an artist would appreciate, let alone himself.

. . .

"Gab, calm down. Calm down, please," Peyton said, unable to console her friend. "I can't understand a thing you're saying unless you calm the fuck down." Peyton stood up and grabbed a paintbrush.

"I-I-I feel so used. I'm so stupid Peyton. I'm smarter than this, aren't I? Successful career, life and I'm even fortunate to have such a devoted fiancee like Grant – whom I just threw away," she said and then lapsed into crying again.

Peyton flipped the cap of a fresh bottle of paint and poured a heaping amount into a plastic container.

"God, I'm so fucking stupid Peyton. I d-d-don't know what to do."

"Are you going to tell me what exactly happened?" she pushed a flat brush into the thick paint and drew it up again, watching it drip in long blobs.

"I saw him, Todd, Friday – I-I-I saw you at the bar later that evening. Called him when I got to the club. He was supposed to meet me there, well, us gals. He didn't show. I pinged him a whole bunch of times but no response. Grant was working in California since Friday so I called – Todd – and only got voicemail. Tried all day Sunday – I probably look like some crazy stalker. Peyton, if I told you what we did, oh god, you wouldn't believe me. I don't want to even think about it."

If I told you what I did this weekend, you'd shit your pretty white pants...

"You know sex doesn't equal anything. It doesn't mean a damned thing these days." Peyton swallowed hard, hating to hear the truth of her own situation. She rammed the brush into the canvas and paint splayed in all directions.

"Oh for fuck sake's, I know that. I'm just – just -"

"One night stands suck. Men suck. The whole damn world sucks, Gab." All Peyton could hear were her friend's intense sobs on the other end.

"I don't know how badly I screwed things up with Grant. Do you th-th-think I should tell him?"

"Hell no! Are you kidding? Gabby, wait, now you're not thinking clearly right now. You had an indiscretion. You're not married yet." Peyton grabbed a rough, dry brush and began moving paint in a whooshing motion over the canvas. Some of it splattered onto her bare foot.

"I really liked Todd."

"I know. But you have Grant – a man, well, I've never met, but if you guys are going to get married, must be something good there, right? Most males are demonic pigs," Peyton said. "Think about it – you really want to be married and have that type of life. I've heard you say it a thousand times. What do you think Todd was going to do for you?"

"I dunno. I envisioned a future with him I guess. Maybe even before we had sex. I've always liked him in college. He's so charming and so confident."

"Yep. And idiots like that don't marry women. They screw around with women already taken."

"Peyton, how is it you know all this? I've never met any of your dates or boyfriends. Not one person."

Peyton slapped another brush loaded with paint onto the canvas. She thought for a moment and then said in a soft voice, "I guess that part of my life is sorta private. I'm not a marrying type of person. But I've been burned enough."

"I don't see how that is even possible."

"Well it doesn't matter. Look, we'll talk more later. Quit blubbering so much. Go to the spa, or wine store. Somewhere -"

"I'll call you later."

"Yep. You'll be all right Gab. You're strong." Peyton hated consoling other people. Her naïve friend walked right into this shit-storm. It bristled her patience and made her skin crawl. Hopefully it wasn't an indication of her own lapse in judgment in regards to screwing around with Lawyer.

. . .

8:23 PM

Alex blurted a few choice words under his breath and pushed the car door shut. The ground was still damp from heavy rain. He should be celebrating instead of hauling ass all the way up this dark and narrow two lane highway. The results of the Berger case ended in the firm's favor. A year of depositions, interrogatories, summons, not to mention a great deal of research and it all yielded the desired results. A fat glass of single malt Scotch whisky was in order.

Inside the lavish club house the air was dry and overheated. Alex paid the usual respects to other fellow litigators, a few wives and several faces he recognized but unsure from where. He sauntered up to the bar and no sooner than he flagged down the bar tender, a familiar tap pierced his right shoulder.

"I'm not allowed a head start?" he asked.

"Why am I always the one to find you sober first?"

"Baby, just consider yourself lucky," he said and ordered a drink.

"How are you Trish?"

"You look like shit Alex," she said and took a sip of a long stemmed glass of wine. Before he could throw a vocal barb in return, she put up her hand. "Considering you won the Berger case, I'll give you a pass. Nice work."

Whisky in hand, he took a drink and set the glass on the bar.

"What have you been up to - misbehaving badly?"

"Well you would know all about that," she grinned for a moment. "We're moving on a new case. Just landed on my desk last week."

"Oh I heard – something about the cement in the new bridge," Alex said to the dark haired woman.

"It's the steel girders. Substandard. Contractors knew it and used them anyway."

"Sounds long and painful. Good luck with that."

"So, where is she?"

Alex smirked at question and took another drink.

"Let's see," the woman looked around the room, "cheap, blond and ignorant, oh where can she be?"

"Where's your asshole of a husband? Home washing the carpets with cyanide?"

"Boy, you are crabby tonight."

"I'm here solo." Alex turned and ordered another glass of whisky.

The woman looked surprised and then narrowly gazed at him. "Let me guess, blondie couldn't shake her husband tonight or is home with washing her Chihuahua?"

"Trish, let's put you out of your misery. I'm really here alone this evening. Well, unless -" he made it a point to drape his eyes up and down her curvature, gaze lingering on her breasts. "You never have liked to let those puppies loose."

"Cute Alex. Forester is over there," she motioned with her drink, other arm crossed under her chest.

"I should go say hi. Torment him about how difficult it is being married to such a powerhouse bitch."

"You are in a very foul mood. So if you didn't drag some robot along with you, perhaps she just broke it off and your ego is wounded. Which would explain the drinks."

"Okay Ms. Lawyer. Enough. Fuck." Alex hated when she backed him into a corner. He gulped at the amber liquid this time and plunked the glass down hard. "She's not here tonight. And yeah, blond is accurate."

"Anyone I know?" Trish wrinkled her nose at him.

"I hate you."

"I know sweetheart."

Alex blandly surveyed the mob in the room and decided to get it over with. "Peyton Buckholtz. She's a -"

"An artist. My word Alex," Trish said eyes wide as dinner plates. She set her glass of wine on the bar and brushed her dark hair away from her heavily made up eyes. "How on earth did you manage that?"

Alex refused to face her. At least the booze was providing a nice mental haze.

"Wait a damn minute here – bravo, Mr. Rip-away-underpants, you care about this one -"

"Okay, all right. That's enough," he interrupted. "Don't be naïve. I just met her."

"Then don't play stupid with me, I know you Alex. I also know nothing changes."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"If she hasn't dropped you by now – and you have some ounce of respect for this girl, this talented artist, you'd better think about showing her more than just your dick."

Alex choked and recomposed himself. "Funny how you remember that."

"Yep. Yep, I sure do. And look at us now. Divorced."

"I don't need a trip down memory lane Trish, we all know where that ends up."

"Yes, honey, in court."

. . .

Peyton scrubbed the paint from her hands and launched backward into the orange chaise lounge. The phone was on the floor, most of the battery life gone after talking to Gabrielle. Perhaps the device would die and she'd have an excuse to put it on the charger in the bedroom and not think about it the rest of the night.

Everything was set up for tomorrow. Last minute details could be handled by her agent. Earlier she bumped into Cal at the mailboxes downstairs. Peyton couldn't be alone tonight and it scratched at her like a twisted bunch of Russian thistle.

She gazed at the array of sultry dark tones and hints of red strewn about the eight foot canvas propped against the Big Wall. Large metal clips suspended on cables from the ceiling could attach to the back frames of her work, but clung to nothing now. Today's effort was just a dud painting. A protrusion of her ever increasing depressive mood. How dare she give so much advice to her friend about men, sex, affairs, matters of the heart when she was in the exact same situation. Well, minus the husband. She had nobody to return to after torrid rounds of intercourse with a stranger.

Peyton didn't want to feel this way. She stood up, grabbed a sweatshirt, keys and headed downstairs.

. . .

After a brash lecture on his ill treatment of women, what he could do to redeem himself and improve his personal life, Trish rejoined her husband on the far side of the room. Alex intermingled with a few but grew tired. He sampled some of the food from the long buffet table to soak up the alcohol which had hit his stomach like a bomb.

The painful task of digging the phone out of his pocket and gazing upon the glowing screen with bloodshot eyes did not go unnoticed by Trish. She nodded at him across the room. He wanted to flip her off but Alex Cutwater, Attorney at Law didn't do things so crass and unpredictable.

The phone's message window alerted him to three texts from Peyton and one voice message.

Fuck.

He slipped outside and was met with chilly air. The high desert was hot the majority of the day during the summer but after sunset it cooled rapidly.

I do like her. Stupid ex is right. I just hate where it all leads. Where it always leads.

Alex pushed the phone icon and waited.

Peyton wasn't picking up.

Hi my darling...been thinking about you all day...

"Hi Peyton. It's Alex. I finished a big case today so that's why I've been – unavailable. Of course I'll come tomorrow night. Call me back or send me a ping." What else to say? He stared at the call screen a second before tapping the screen and ending the stupid message.

Before opening the door to his car, his eye caught on an email from David.

[Alex – please see me first thing in the morning. I'll be in the office the usual time, David]

It was rare the firm's senior partner asked to meet him 'first thing'. David was in the office at the miserable hour of 6AM every day of the week. Except for Sunday. He played golf on Sunday. A worthless game in Alex's view.

Perhaps there was a loose detail on the Berger case.

Alex sank into his Mercedes and cranked the radio. Tomorrow promised to be a busy, complicated day.

Chapter Six – Reveal

"Well, I'll pop in as usual, you know I would never miss a showing of your new work. And Gabrielle is making the effort, right? And all your fans and stalkers will be there, so who the hell cares about some guy with a big penis that flashed you in the park? Geezus Peyton, how'd you get yourself wrapped up with a creep like that?"

"I'm an artist, remember?"

Cal snorted and threw a pretzel at her from across a long leather couch.

"I should go home to bed. It's late," Peyton said and yawned.

"It's not late, but I'll make an assumption in my dirty mind as to why you're this tired. Why weren't you answering the phone earlier? You didn't lose it again did you?"

"Oh shit!" she sat straight up. "I left it under the chaise or maybe rug. Fuck, I forgot to put it on the charger."

"You really are blond, aren't you?" he teased.

"You should talk, you're practically bald."

Cal sighed. "Honey, I know. I tried to join that hair club on TV but they wouldn't accept me."

Peyton laughed and lay back against the couch. "Well, shit. I'll find it when I get home. Not like anyone is trying to call."

"What about Gabrielle?"

"Hmm, she's all cried out. I guess Grant is on a business trip. I told her to go to a spa and relax," Peyton said and grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl sitting between then.

"We could of had her over to this little soiree."

"Nope, she would have been a buzzkill," Peyton said spraying a mouthful of pretzel.

"You're not very nice."

"Okay. And your point?"

"I'm gay, I don't have to have a point."

"Cal, that makes no sense. I think epoxy fumes have gone to your head."

"Hmm, maybe," he said and became lost in the movie they had been ignoring. Cal pointed the remote at a huge ultra high definition tv mounted to the wall. The volume increased and he sat back and put his feet up on an old trunk serving as his coffee table.

Peyton yawned and stretched.

"Girl, just stay. You've slept on my couch before. I'm sure that cat of yours will be fine, what's its name?"

"Cheeks."

"Poor thing."

"Maybe I will stay tonight. I can't bring myself to hike upstairs."

"Good. Then we'll watch movies all night." He slapped his hands together. "I'll make some popcorn."

"Cal – I won't be any good. I'm gonna fall asleep if you play anymore of these Chuck Connors flicks."

Cal got up and stretched. "Then fall asleep. I'll have Chuck all to myself. And I'm still making popcorn," he said, lumbering toward the kitchen.

"I'll take extra butter," she called after him.

. . .

Wednesday 7:45AM.

"Good morning Mr. Cutwater. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No thanks Cindy." Alex paused, grasping the handle of his office door. "Could you get me the number for the Washoe County District Attorney's office? And not the main number. The one for Daryl Sanderson. I need the direct line."

The buxom girl nodded, tight curls bobbing up and down.

Alex gave a tight lipped smile and hurried inside. A moment more in the hall and his dick would start paying attention to this whore.

He plunked a brown file onto his desk and strode to the windows. Anger washed over him. He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths then sat down in his high backed leather chair and tossed open the folder. A few pages were attached, there would be more to come.

A mug shot stared back at him. An arrest picture taken in the Washoe County detention center. The freak, about to be accused with murder, posted bail yesterday morning. The dipshit's regular attorney wasn't good enough – or high profile enough.

The intercom on the phone speaker buzzed and Alex grabbed it immediately.

"Mr. Cutwater, I have the Deputy District Attorney on the line for you."

Great, I only wanted the fucking number.

Alex didn't acknowledge her but switched directly to the call. He leaned forward and grabbed a pen.

"Hi Alex. I got a notice this morning of representation. A bit shocked."

"Yeah, hey, Daryl," Alex said. Forgoing the backstory on why he was put on this case, Alex requested the usual information, the reports from the police, photos, anything and everything to start building a defense.

"Do you have a date set for arraignment?"

"Let's see here, no not yet. I'm waiting on a call back from RPD on a few details. We're under the 48 hours so why don't I give you a call back this evening?"

Shit. The art showing.

"Yeah – I have a previous engagement. Let me give you my mobile," Alex said and rattled the numbers off.

"Well, this will be interesting working in the trenches with you Alex. Like old times."

"Sure. Let me know on that arraignment."

"Will do."

Alex replaced the handset and gazed at the mug shot again. Grant Eliason. Some capitalist mother fucker who couldn't control his jealous rage. Perfect.

. . .

10:04 AM

The phone was located under a small rug next to the orange chaise. Peyton plugged it in near the bed then stood in a hot shower until the water turned cold. Once the phone revived itself, she overheard the characteristic melodic pinging, alerting her to several new messages.

Clad in a blue terry cloth robe she sat on a bench next to a tall window and started to go through all the missed connections. She grasped a steaming hot cup of coffee but before she was able to take a sip, her eye caught on Alex's name. She listened to his strange message and then deleted it. He didn't sound like a man who wanted to go to her art show. She didn't have the energy or time to deal with a baby. Plus, she needed to get over to the Stationhouse and do prep work and check on the caterers.

"Hi Barbara?"

"Oh Peyton, I was just going to call you. Do you think you could bring an assortment of your other work? I know the Fifth Street Lofts has that huge gallery in the basement, but I'm getting word that a lot of potential attendees tonight might commit to buying more pieces."

Peyton thought for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose. I have some in storage that haven't been shown at all. If you can send a van over here in the next hour, I'll dig them up."

"More work that nobody has seen? Goodness gracious my dear. I'll send a van right now. My driver just got back."

Peyton said goodbye and rolled her eyes. Whatever. Sounded like instead of edgy, interesting people tonight, there was going to be a lot of hobnobbing and flashing of gold jewelry. Barbara was super nice and very attentive as an agent but sometimes Peyton felt like she was pushing her in another direction artistically. The bottom line was money and to make a living slapping color on canvas was rare. She'd better just suck up her moodiness and get busy.

. . .

6:43PM

Alex blasted through a red light and slammed on the breaks across the intersection. A person could spend hours to go three blocks from all the stupid stop lights and downtown traffic. He slipped the gear shift into second and let off the clutch. The engine made an unhappy, snarling noise.

Most women couldn't resist a sleek black sports car. Peyton wasn't most women. Alas what was the point in owning this car if he couldn't show off once in a blue moon?

He zoomed up to the Fifth Street Lofts building and parked against a yellow curb. He flipped on the emergency lights and exited the car. Never on time to any events, Alex hoped she wasn't either.

Upstairs Peyton poured cat food into Cheek's bowl and set it on the ledge in front of the big windows. The picky cat needed a view in order to eat.

Peyton grasped her phone, trying to ignore how late she was and scrolled through her list of contacts, looking for the number to ride-share. She pressed the call button, grabbed her keys and yanked on the front door. It retracted with a sharp groan. Peyton let out a scream, then covered her mouth.

"Shhit what the hell are you doing here?"

Alex smiled. "I think you know why I'm here. Shall we? You're going to be late." He held out an arm.

Peyton reluctantly slipped her hand under his arm and pivoted, yanking on the stubborn door. Alex put his hand over hers on the handle and gave a massive thrust. The door slammed shut and he lead her down the hallway. Stumbling, Peyton was wide eyed and speechless. She had a million questions and wanted to punish him for being absent the past few days.

It could wait.

They stepped into the elevator since there was no safe method of taking the stairs in her shoes. A sly peek at this perplexing man standing beside her banished all other thought. Alex had chosen to slick back his hair, except for a couple strands that stiffly wavered like daggers over one eye. He adorned some very hip and very expensive olive colored cargo flight pants. They matched a dark V neck tee shirt that appeared tailor-made for his physique.

"What?" He glanced over.

"You look every bit the part of a discerning male art aficionado."

"You're quite sexy yourself. I apologize in advance for not being able to keep my hands off you, which will occur later as the night digresses."

"Pervert."

"Go ahead. Call names. You'll pay for it later." Alex held his hand out as the door retracted. They had reached the bottom floor.

Peyton winced as they were met with cool evening air. Appropriate clothing was uncalled for in an event like this. She was on display just as much as her art was. Peyton opted for a sleeveless thin black cashmere turtleneck. She wore her long hair down, although true to form, a bit unhampered. The starkness of her blond hair against the black blouse provided the artsy-designer look she was hating at the moment. The standard short black skirt and 3" heel Italian leather boots rounded off the effect.

"Where is your car?" Peyton asked, clutching her phone.

"Right here," he said and grabbed the handle to a sleek red Jaguar F-Type.

"Wait -" she said about to cough.

"May I remind you, we're going to be quite tardy." He held the door open enjoying her attempt to subdue a look of shock and awe.

Peyton wasn't sure how to sit down gracefully but he took her hand and she lowered into the car. Her cute and clumsy execution placed a grin on his face.

"I'm supposed to be impressed, right?" Peyton asked after he inserted himself into the driver seat.

"Yes. You are." He pressed the ignition and the thing snarled to life. A tap on the accelerator and they shot off so quick Peyton closed her eyes.

"You didn't get my message then," he asked, shifting gears as if they were liquid butter.

"Ha. Well. I did just a bit ago."

"How about the underwear situation?" he smiled wickedly. He couldn't tell if she adorned anything under the short little skirt.

"That's not up for discussion right now, you'll have to find out later."

Alex dropped it into second gear and railed around a sharp corner. Peyton grasped the door handle and peeped in the rear view mirror. Just to check on the off chance blue and white lights were flashing behind them.

. . .

Adamant about parking the luxury car himself, Alex zoomed off after leaving Peyton at the entrance to the Stationhouse. Valet parking was available for all guests, free of charge, but that was laughable to Alex. He would make sure his sixty thousand dollar machine would be secured in a location away from other cars and hazards. No young pimple faced hipster was going to sit behind the wheel of his car, not even for a second.

Peyton wasn't surprised at the anal retentive behavior and proceeded to walk down a complimentary red carpet. Huge wooden doors with wrought iron handles stood propped as far open as they would go. A guest wearing a long blue dress and diamond necklace hovered near the entrance, oblivious to who Peyton was. A brief pause in the quiet moment and then Peyton reluctantly entered the main room.

Warm, dry air stung her nostrils immediately and sparked the urge to turn around and sneak out. The darkened interior was at capacity. Only the tops of the large canvases were visible from across the room. A flood of people blocked and also ignored the display of work.

Peyton latched onto the worried expression slathered upon Barbara's face but it quickly dissolved and she slipped into mingling crowd.

Yes, I know I'm late. But it doesn't seem to matter...

Before long she was milling around from one person to another, not because she desired to do so, but because introductions were fast and furious. Names were thrown out like leaves in a Nevada wind. Business cards dispensed like candy. Glistening teeth, spicy perfume, coiffed hair and drinks in hand sent Peyton into a dizzy spell. It was a scene from Kubriack film.

Funky table lamps in the corners of the room gave off a surreal, reddish glow. The only pure illumination in the room were the halogen lamps brought in for her paintings.

"We'll do the main presentation in fifteen minutes. Don't go anywhere," her agent, Barbara said and then whooshed away. Peyton needed a drink. Where the fuck was Greek-God? Parking his car on a mountain?

"Shit, I didn't know you were here yet." Gabrielle's voice squealed above all others.

Peyton hid a startled reaction to her friend's puffy face and red rimmed eyes. "I should tell you something -"

"Wait just a sec. Peyton, Grant is here. Don't mention, well, you know, my thing with Todd -"

"Hell Gab - I wouldn't do that. Calm down."

"I'm so nervous He got home from yet another business trip to California this afternoon. I guess fatigue explains why he's acting so weird. Or I'm just paranoid."

"You're paranoid, trust me. Of course it makes sense he's tired. Gosh – seems like he's gone a lot lately."

"Yeah. Work and stuff," Gabrielle said. She sipped her wine. "Well, thank god for this thing tonight. Tons of people here I've never seen."

"That's Barbara's doing. I don't know anyone," Peyton said.

Gabrielle became fixated at something in the distance and made a strange chirp. "That hunk of meat looks familiar. I must be very buzzed – where have I seen him before?"

Petyon slowly pivoted to see Alex headed straight for them. She couldn't help but smile in nervous anticipation.

"So, what I haven't told you -" Peyton gritted her teeth. Alex came up and slid his hand around her back. Gabrielle's jaw dropped open so wide it almost dislocated.

"Wait -" Gabrielle pointed her glass toward them, "you're the lawyer at the bar. Last Friday?"

Alex was a tad confused and sensing the intensified heat radiating off Peyton, finding a drink became priority. Peyton just nodded at Gabrielle, grinning in a funky way that revealed all her teeth in telltale embarrassment. Alex whispered something into her ear and she nodded.

His departure allowed the interrogation from Gabrielle to commence. Sensitive on one hand regarding Gabby's tumultuous affair and one night stand, Peyton wasn't keen on spilling the details of her own reckless sexual deviancy with Alex. Peyton knew very little of his life. And even the stupid things people share when getting to know one another – favorite colors, tv shows, how many times a month do they get tested for STD's? The standard fare was skipped in this case.

"So?" Peyton raised her eyebrows.

"So. What should I say next? I'm stunned. I'm not sure which shocks me more – how the both of you already look like a couple who've been together a long time or the fact you've brought a man – who you met at a bar – to one of your art showings. I'm missing something."

Gabrielle was a smart woman. Peyton wished she would drop the hysterics and just be content.

"Well, where is Grant by the way?" Peyton frowned and glanced around.

"Shit, look at that. Isn't that just like a bunch of guys?"

"Huh?" Peyton strained to see what she was talking about.

"Looks like your man and Grant are getting to know each other already without our help." Gabrielle motioned to the bar, where Alex, with a drink in each hand, was talking to Gabrielle's fiancee. Peyton studied the expressions and body language of both men. Cold, prickly shivers zinged along her spine. They either knew each other or were at odds with each other. She couldn't tell.

"I didn't get you a boiler maker. Hope this will suffice." He handed her a glass of champagne. Peyton wasn't surprised he remembered what she was drinking last Friday evening. She sipped the bubbly drink and kept a sharp eye on the exchange between Grant and Gabrielle. The room was too loud to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Do you know Grant?" Peyton said, slipping in close to Alex. He nodded. His mouth was drawn in a taught line.

Peyton cocked her head to the side. "Really? From where?"

"If I told you I need you to play along with what happens next, will you?"

Peyton frowned. "I guess. I'm not sure. Alex, can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"I will. At some point. Not now."

Peyton clicked her teeth together, confused.

"It's important," he said glaring at Grant.

"Okay – okay. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"We're going to have some stiff introductions in a minute," Alex said coarsely, watching Gabrielle and Grant make their way over. "And – I don't want you anywhere near him the rest of tonight."

"What?" Peyton gasped, astonished. "Why? Alex, -"

But it was too late. Grant approached, a bit standoffish. Gabrielle was looking forlorn but putting up a convincing act that everything was fine.

"Wow, you both know each other. It always amazes me how small Reno really is," Gabby said.

Alex stuck his hand out. "Grant, as I said earlier, good seeing you."

"Yes, likewise," Grant said, nodding stiffly.

"We have some common dealings at the firm," Alex said to Peyton. Which wasn't a lie. Gabby wasn't buying it though.

"It's - it's odd. Grant, you never talked about Rose, Cutwater and – what is it?"

"Gephardt sweetie pie," Grant said. "I've told you about my connection with David Rose many times."

"Oh? Guess I forgot. But it sounds like you'll be working with them?" Gabrielle persisted. Her fiancee owned a clothing distribution company, which had utilized the same lawyers for years. She couldn't figure out why he would need the corporate sharks at Rose, Cutwater and Gephart LLC.

Alex had not officially met with Grant Eliason over the pending murder charges and arraignment. His hand lay against his right front pants pocket, just in case the phone vibrated, alerting him to the call from the deputy district attorney. No doubt this scum, Grant, would be charged with murder in the first.

Dammit. Peyton's best friend is connected to this slime.

Alex threw back his drink and forced a casual smile. It was then he realized his other hand was intertwined with Peyton's. Not a usual affectionate gesture he engaged in.

"Oh. Sorry, I need to be over there," Peyton said, watching Barbara waving frantically across the room. "Have to do a little speech or some shit."

Alex moved off to the side but not before getting another glass of champagne for himself. Impressed with Peyton's composition as she strode up beside her large painting, he was visually and audible stunned. The main canvas was at least twelve feet high. Waves of thick greens and blues conjoined and spread into explosive brush strokes across the canvas. Mixed media being her specialty, bits of other material were used in the piece to convey a bold, eye-narrowing contemplation. Perhaps a fantasy out of control. He had seen it at her apartment of course, but the effect was heightened for some reason now.

Listening to Peyton speak, watching her standing next to her work and drinking in the unusual beauty of the art and also Peyton herself caused Alex to feel flushed. He tried to concentrate on her speech but it was a challenge.

If the colors had been any different, or rhythmic waves rushing into a strange, conjoined patterns, the piece would not have had the same impact. It cajoled the audience into serenity and critical observation.

The words that flowed from Peyton's mouth shamefully heated his loins. Art was not supposed to be a major lustful accelerant. At least not this kind of art. His crude thoughts melted with a strange mix of appreciation and surrealism.

A round of cheers and clapping rang out, but before it ended, Grant walked away from his girlfriend. Alex watched him slip down a corridor toward the bathrooms. Perhaps to vomit out his entire existence.

Predicting the right time to tell Peyton about this, was going to be tricky. The prick in himself wouldn't dare ruin her evening, no matter how she desired information.

The passing of time was painfully slow over the duration of the event. Peyton's other work was just as enjoyable, if not more provocative than the main piece.

Okay, so I need to show her more than just my dick...

His ex Trinity was right as usual. But he'd be damned if he would ever let her know that.

By 9:04PM, Daryl Sanderson called with the information. Grant Eliason would be charged with First Degree Murder. The arraignment was set for 1PM tomorrow at the courthouse downtown. That gave Alex little time to prepare. Grant was already working with an attorney, but tomorrow morning, Alex would officially file the papers for different representation. He would have to meet with Grant to get signatures.

I don't want to defend this worthless scum. Some fucking favor for my boss – the senior partner of the firm. Shit. Jeopardize my career if I say no....

Alex loathed criminal law. His legal experience got off the ground with this nasty facet but he had since lost all taste for it. His experience over the past fifteen years was corporate liability and internal reorganization. But murder? That was a different animal.

The pictures taken by Reno Police which lay on his office desk told a tale of a gruesome blood bath, all premeditated. Grant found out about his fiancee screwing some clerk Friday. Being the jealous, controlling type, he followed them to a downtown motel and sat outside in the car. Once the sexual encounter between the victim and Gabrielle Travers was finished, Grant lay in wait. He obtained the victim's phone number from the motel office and called asking the victim to return.

Grant was waiting close by when this Todd person returned, and stabbed him in the throat. He pulled a jagged edged hunting knife clear across his jugular vein, and then stabbed him several more times in the upper torso.

Alex winced as the burning onset of heartburn began to creep up his esophagus. Grant was a fucking monster. How could a plea of not guilty even be considered?

"Whoa, are you okay?" Peyton's sweet voice zapped him from sick visions and thoughts.

"Sort of."

"Well thanks for not lying," she said.

"Where's your friend?" Alex asked.

"She left really quickly. I don't know what happened," Peyton said and took out her phone. Alex batted it down slowly.

"Do me a favor. Don't look at that tonight."

"Yeah, right – what the fuck is going on?"

"You're friend's fiancee is – having some trouble. I think you need to just wait and let them work it out."

"Oh shit. He found out about the affair – I knew it. Damnit."

Alex didn't like where this was headed. Time for some distraction.

"How about we hop into my car, take a little drive. Sound good?"

"Why – what do you know that I don't?" Peyton scrunched up her face.

"Hmm. I know lots of things," he said, voice lowering. A hand caressing the small of her back smoothed over the taut curvature of her bum.

"Like?" She couldn't help but smile.

"Like – I think you're wearing a g-string."

Peyton's gaze shifted to sheer astonishment. "Well, shhhh, I have a reputation to protect," she said.

"And another to expand on," he said into her ear. "I'd like to help with that."

"Okay, let's go," she agreed. This was an event to display art. Not a public display of affection. Time to remove Hot Pants before he arrived at any creative ideas about how to have sex at an art venue. Peyton surmised he contained enough ideas to fill an encyclopedia.

"Shall we?" he held out an arm.

"That's a loaded question," she said and grabbed on.

. . .

Peyton clutched her phone in silence. The usual banter was absent between them. She wondered what crucial information Alex withheld and why she should trust him instead of running to Gabrielle in a show of support. Peyton figured Grant found out about the affair. And if that was the case, there wasn't much she could do about it other than listen to Gabby moan and bitch.

"Where are we going?" She gazed out the window.

"My place."

"Really?"

Alex was so conflicted, working the case in his head, he almost missed the turn to the steep road leading to a conglomeration of custom built houses scattered in the hills above the city.

"You live up here?"

He turned and half smiled. She knew the road because of a hiking trail that started in the canyon above. The best way to reach the trail head was to take a few side roads in back of fancy homes and hobby ranches.

They arrived at a driveway blocked with a wrought iron gate between two stone pillars. Alex paused and got out of the car to grab a thick stack of mail in a small locked box next to the road. He tossed the pile in the back of the car and sat down in the driver seat. A small remote in the center console retracted the gate and opened the garage door.

"How'd you do that?" she asked.

"One button opens both."

Once the car engine was off, the garage door automatically began to shut. Peyton remained in the passenger seat wondering what planet she had arrived on. Black wooden cabinets lined the walls except for one side with metal closets reaching at least eight or nine feet high.

Bright light bounced off dark resign floors. Next to the Jaguar was his Mercedes, looking freshly washed. Beyond the cars, at the far end of the garage, was a work station. A massive gray and black tool cabinet on thick wheels sat pushed against a heavy wooden table.

Alex opened the door and helped her out.

"Your garage is nicer than my loft."

"No it's not."

Still clutching her phone, she followed him up some steps, pausing while he entered a lengthy code into a touch pad on the wall.

His house smelled new. No distinguishing or personalized odors greeted them as they entered. Maybe a slight scent of lumber. The cold, stagnant air provided a brooding, sterile atmosphere.

They passed through several rooms with massive windows. Peyton wanted to stop. Her mind wasn't registering that this was his home. She struggled to keep to the swift pace. Several times he hit some numbers on a touch screen which she assumed was a security system but then became clear he was turning on heat to various rooms.

"Why is your garage so far away from the main part of your house?" Peyton asked in a raspy voice.

"Flaw of the builder I suppose. I bought this place too quickly. I wanted the property. The house came with it unfortunately."

"Oh? Yeah. Makes sense." Peyton stood in a darkened room. A living room perhaps. Or entry. The slight echo of her voice bounced against cold floor tiles. "I can't see anything."

"Keep your g-string on." More taps on another wall pad and finally lights burst on from above and below, illuminating a grand foyer and living room.

The house was multilevel, situated on a property that was quite steep. The main thoroughfare continued toward darkened hallways. Peyton was at the top of some open steps that descended into what appeared to be a sunken living room but it was just another level of the house.

"What is it always with fucking stairs?" she said, not knowing where he had gotten off too.

"Yes you have a curse don't you?" he spoke from behind.

"Shit," she said clutching her chest. "You fucking scared me."

"Sit."

"Here?"

"Yes. Let's get those boots off ." After a slow removal of the footwear he kneaded her foot, compressing and releasing with hands that expressed strength. And then repeated the process on the other.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Peyton was too keyed up to give into seduction.

Alex stood without answering and started toward a massive stone hearth. "Downside to this place is that it's always cold. Even in the summer. It can be damn near one hundred degrees in the valley but a good twenty cooler up here."

Peyton careful plunked down each step. She reached the bottom and gazed up at windows that extended twenty feet or more into wood beams.

"This reminds me of a mountain log home. Like Aspen or Veil."

"You've been to Colorado?" he said, throwing a log into the fireplace.

"My family is – from Denver. I grew up there."

"Odd. Wouldn't peg you for a Rockies kind of girl."

"What would you peg me as?" She sat down on the hearth and crossed her legs.

Alex lit a match and flames shot from the center. Peyton jerked back a bit. He was in that mode again. Sly and hard to assess. His sexually charged demeanor had become subdued.

"Drink?"

"Yes, please," she said and saw the full bar across the room. Complete with refrigerator and ice. He poured two drinks in round glasses and returned.

"Do you like brandy?"

"Yes." She took the glass and set it beside her on the hearth. "Please tell me what's going on."

Grasping the glass by the round bottom and bringing it to his lips, Alex polished off his drink. He stared at the glass for a moment, inspecting it and returned it to the bar.

"First of all I assess people for a living. Helps to size someone up in a court of law to determine how to proceed with a line of questions. You strike me as someone who actually grew up in Reno."

"Have you spent much time in Colorado?"

"Other than skiing? No, I have not."

Peyton weakly smiled.

"Does Gabrielle live with her fiancee?" Alex asked.

"Yes, she does. Alex, why-"

"Hang on, okay?" He looked down at her phone, still clenched in hand. "I'm sort of in a bind right now. Not sure what to do and even more, not sure what to tell you."

"You're scaring me. Please – if it has to do with my friend, what is it?"

Alex stood. He thought better if he could pace around. Arms crossed, he began to divulge a few details. How he had no choice but to take it. He spared the details about the crime itself, it was too disturbing.

"How much do you know about what she did on Friday? Did she tell you about the fling with this guy?"

Peyton stood. "Shit. Yes, yes. Of course she told me. I talk to her a lot. Well, I mean," Peyton couldn't think.

Alex grabbed her drink by the edge of the glass and offered it to her. "Take a sip. Come on."

After swallowing the smoky liquid she sputtered and gazed up at him. "You're – his lawyer. If he did this – you are the one defending him – getting Grant off. Oh my gosh does that mean -"

"It means I'm going to have to leave the case."

Now she was confused again. "What?"

"You're a part of it. I'm going to have to call witnesses, and one of them will be you. I'll ask you about Friday night. About meeting Gabrielle at the bar. What she told you. Everything."

Peyton's face lost color as his words sank in. "Wait, what about you and I? Is that going to be part of all this?"

"Well, probably," he breathed out heavily. "My colleagues were kind of inebriated but they could be linked back to you – seeing you. One of them knew who you were. I left the bar alone, and it's not a crime for me to hook up or proposition someone in my free time -"

"I love how you just stated that," Peyton said, shooting a snide look.

"It's the fact that you are friends with Gabrielle – you contain information on the night of this murder, I'm now involved with you. My client is involved with your best friend."

"What are you going to do then?" Peyton asked. "Is it a conflict of interest?"

"I'm not sure. I have a bit of research to perform. So I'm going to leave you to endeavors of your choosing -"

"Is Gabby in danger? Wait, so you didn't want me to tell her. Maybe Grant has told her by now?"

"I don't know," he said coming close. "He's going to have to tell her, it will be all over the news. I did criminal work first starting out as an attorney, Peyton, trust me – this guy is no good. He's also got a lot of connections and is very powerful."

"Is Gabby in danger? Please be honest with me."

"Sure. Yes, I would say a man who is accused of murder would be dangerous in any circumstance. The fact that he's accused of killing his fiancee's lover is extra concerning." Alex knelt down in front of Peyton and placed his hands on her knees. "All the signs are showing that he is an abusive person. Therefore, yes, she could be in harm's way."

Peyton frowned and shook her head. "Abusive? No. That's not possible. Gabrielle has never -"

"Women being abused often don't show the signs. Not until later on, when it becomes worse. She's a successful, attractive, career oriented woman."

"Exactly," she said in a high pitched voice.

"How much time have you spent around both of them? Gone over for dinner? Didn't you tell me you haven't gotten to know Grant?"

"Yeah? So what? Gabrielle and I -" Peyton stood and brushed past him, "- aren't the best of friends, but Alex, I think you're reading too much into all this."

Peyton went to the windows. It was a breathtaking, unobstructed view. The huge casinos were unmistakable amidst the sea of lights of Reno. The moon was almost full and therefore the bright light illuminated the hills to the east.

"That's what I do for a living. I read too much into things in order to get to the truth."

"Or to take others down," she said staring back at him.

"Yes." He came up behind her. "Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?"

Peyton jumped slightly at his hands winding around her middle and his fingers intertwining with hers.

"No," Peyton uttered, taking a moment to answer. Deafening silence engulfed the room. "Well, that depends actually." She closed her eyes for a second.

"Depends on what?"

Peyton sucked in the side of her lip trying to weigh how far to expand on her partial admission.

"I have a fucked up relationship with my family. The word abuse is taking it a bit too far but let's just say enough emotional damage has been done. And I know everyone in the world could say their upbringing was messed up. Trust me, until you meet my family? You have no idea."

"So when do I get to meet them?" Alex kissed her ear.

"Hopefully never."

"They still live in Colorado?"

"Yes."

"Your parents – married still?"

"Yes," she said, sighing.

"What does your dad do?" Alex had an inkling. This was like a game. A game he was good at.

Peyton looked down to the ground, half groaning and half snickering. She turned around and pushed her hands against his chest.

"My father is retired."

"An attorney?" Alex eyed her sideways.

"How did you -"

"We're all part of the same tribe, don't you know? We can smell each others' scent." He grabbed one of her wrists and kissed the underside. Then Alex proceeded to the bar and poured himself another drink. "What kind of law?"

"Criminal," Alex flatly stated.

"Now I really am wondering when I get to meet them?"

"Next time they come to visit, I'll inform you."

"How often is that?"

Peyton scoffed, "Never."

Alex took a long drink and kissed her. Brandy filled her senses. As her lips locked with his, she took a deep breath through her nose.

"I'm scared," she said pulling back.

"Are you? Of what?"

"At this point – everything." She raised her eyebrows.

Don't make fun...

"Listen. You're safe here tonight – from Grant anyway. And drunk drivers and home invasions and mobs on the streets of Reno. I need to go into my office upstairs and deal with a few things."

"Just how safe am I from you Alex?" she strode past, shooting him a glance over the shoulder.

Nice try...

"I'd say moderately safe for the moment."

"Because work beckons? What about after?"

"Then, no promises."

Peyton put on her best display of sulking and caught his outstretched hand behind her.

"I'll re-join you later. Don't worry," he said and ran a finger across the back of her dress.

Unable to convey in words, without being a total prick - that this case had to take precedence over Peyton, gnawed at him. Work before pleasure. If a few details were settled, he could re-channel some pent up energy into pleasures of the flesh.

Alex fought to retain his composure. A quick fuck in front of a nice warm fire...

Don't lie to yourself...nothing about it would be quick. Save it for later, you asshole.

"Come on," he said leading her down another hallway.

"Why do you need such a large house? This is nuts."

"I wanted the land, not so much the house, as I said earlier. Someplace I could get away after work every night but without a terrible commute back into the city."

"You don't bring many women here," she said.

"Why would you say that?" His office overlooked Reno in the distance just like the living room. An open laptop sat a top a huge mahogany desk. A banker's lamp with green glass, grey leather desk blotter and a square pencil cup holder adorned the desk as well.

"Just a guess. It's like a sanctuary. Reserved for you and you alone. Bringing women here would be too much of a bother and a distraction. Pollution even." Peyton said.

"Then why did I bring you here?"

"Dunno yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out," she said gazing at the office walls. One side was filled with traditional western paintings. Across the room were his law degrees in thick mahogany frames.

"Where did you father go to law school?" Alex sat back in his chair and clicked a key on the computer.

Peyton snorted. "Harvard."

"Is that where he met your mother?"

"No. He met her in Denver. My mom comes from a wealthy family. They own buffalo ranches in Wyoming."

"Where you spent a lot of time?"

Peyton pivoted. "Yes. How'd you guess?"

"Were you a wild child?" Alex smirked.

Peyton came around the desk and sat on his lap. "No. Not really. Not wild. Shy. But defiant."

"So – they shipped you off to Wyoming to straighten you out during summers?"

"I thought you had work to do?" She wriggled and took notice of growing warmth below.

"See that over there -" He motioned to a fax machine on a counter across the room. The paper tray was full and several sheets were on the floor.

"Then finish giving me the tour instead of psycho-analyzing my childhood." She jumped up.

"Right," he said. "Come, tour continues." He took her hand and led her down the opposite end of the hall.

"What are all these rooms? Why are the doors closed?"

"Bedrooms. I don't use them. I keep the doors closed because I shut off the heat to them."

"Shut off the heat?"

"It's a smart home. Controlled electronically."

"Of course. Did the home decorate itself too?"

"No. I hired someone."

Made sense.

As they entered the bedroom the lights came on automatically. He went to the smart pad on the wall and disabled the feature.

A view did not exist from his boudoir. She was almost disappointed. Thick pine branches blocked the windows lined with sleeved plantation shutters. Walls were void of art. A simple dresser at one end, a huge bed in the middle and a door left open to a walk in closet.

The room was for sleeping, not fucking. No mirrors on the ceiling. Nowhere to even lay one's clothes except the floor. Peyton wasn't stupid. She connected the dots rather easily. This could very well be the bedroom of her parent's home. Work always came first. Religious devotion second. And third, put on a good act that everything is normal. The deviation from parallel lifestyles was the noticeably absent crosses slathering the walls. No golden pictures of Jesus at every turn. And her father did not share the same voracious and reckless personal life as Alex did.

If she had agreed last Friday to have sex in the park with him, would he have gone through with it or drawn the line?

"This is your bathroom. What the fuck." Peyton stood in a room almost as big as the bedroom.

"I guess there's your swimming pool," he said coming up behind her.

"Why the Tuscan theme? It's kind of everywhere throughout this place, but this room is the worst."

"My decorator's idea," he said entering the room.

"I'll bet she was a good fuck," Peyton snorted.

Alex wasn't about to answer that. She was a decent fuck. One of the few he had at his home.

Peyton sat on the edge of a large Roman soaking tub. "This is cool. Does it work?" She motioned to the black waterfall fixture at the far end of the tub.

"It should."

"You don't know?"

"I've never used it. The cleaning lady turns it on once a month just to rinse the dust out of the tub."

"Alex – what the hell? I don't believe you."

He opened a tall wall cabinet near the sink, fumbled around and pulled out a candle. He grabbed some more and set them on the edge of the tub. They were brand new, wrapped in plastic.

"Gift. From some client. You use them if you want."

Peyton stood gazing up at him. "Take a bath with me."

"Believe me I'm tempted." He ran a finger along her mouth. "I can't. Not yet."

"Okay. Go – go and deal with your work stuff. I'll be in here. Playing around, I guess."

He leaned close, her aroma wafted up at him like a sick charm. "Don't play too hard."

"Then hurry up," she smiled and kissed him.

Alex removed himself from the ensnaring situation, as painful and counter-intuitive as it was. He peered back down the hallway through the open doors and paused to watch her sit on the edge of the tub and fool with the faucet handles. He shoved his hands into his pockets and curiously observed the removal of her clothing. First an earring. Then another. She pulled her shirt high over her head, and luxurious golden hair cascaded back down around her shoulders. A little wriggle and she was free of the skirt.

Steam rose from the water pouring out of the long spout. He spoke the truth about never using the tub. Not even during that little fling with the interior decorator.

Peyton didn't have eyes in the back of her head but sensed he was lingering somewhere in the hall. With her bare backside to him, she put both feet into the water and sat on the edge.

"I still need to call Gabrielle," she said, speaking over her shoulder.

Alex said nothing. It was better she figured out what to do. He was fighting a losing battle of work versus a salacious fuck in that tub.

. . .

Twice Peyton tried Gabrielle but she wasn't picking up. She was hesitant to leave text messages in case Grant was checking her phone.

Peyton kept one hand out of the water, but due to the angle, her fingers were going numb. The tub was deep and taking forever to fill. A touch pad on the wall controlled the jets, transforming the water into a frothy extravaganza. The pulsation made her grow sleepy and she sank further into the scorching water.

"One more time," she said to herself and sat up. It rang six times before reaching Gabrielle's cheerful recorded voice.

"Hi Gab. It's me again. Getting late and I want to know if you, uh, have my coat. Did you borrow it at the event? I had some things in the, the pockets. Some contacts from the show. Call me as soon as you get this. Bye."

And I hope you're okay...

She didn't want to let on that she knew about Grant. But then the freak must have told Gabrielle by now. And if so – would he have let on that Alex was Grant's attorney? Was anyone connecting the dots yet? How was Grant planning to explain a massive media shit storm tomorrow at the courthouse?

The water was up to Peyton's chin. A low hum of a motor underneath the tub and frothing bubbles were the only sounds keeping deafening silence at bay. Peyton replayed what Alex said earlier. She wondered if Gabrielle was really in danger from this man. Alex was about to build a case defending Grant, however his words of caution spoke to his belief that Grant was guilty.

Peyton sank lower. The more she dissected the events over the last week, the more an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach awakened.

Chapter Seven – Show Yourself to Me

"Is there any real danger?" she asked, OCD flaring. "Please, I can't stand this any more." Her mouth was half submerged into the water.

Alex leaned against the door frame as if it was an every day thing to see a naked goddess soaking in his bathtub.

"Danger concerning what?"

"What you said earlier about Grant. And how I shouldn't be home tonight. I still can't get a hold of Gabrielle."

"You didn't light the candles," he said and grabbed one.

"Alex. You said earlier that it's a conflict or something for you to be associating with me -"

He took a silver lighter from his pocket and lit the wick on two candles and replaced them on the edge of the tub. "I'm doing more than just associating with you."

"Yeah, you're seducing me in a big foamy bath by candlelight." She came to the edge where he sat.

"I just notified Grant that I'm not going to be his defense attorney." Alex consulted with a few colleagues and weighed the issue heavily. "I also might be out of a job tomorrow." He dangled his hand into the water. Peyton toyed with a couple fingers.

"That's awfully brash, don't you think?"

"Not when I there is the possibility that he's guilty. Very guilty," he said, voice rising. Never mind the other factor that it was a conflict of interest due to Peyton. A small one. But he wasn't willing to mess with it. The last piece in this thing was a personal dilemma. He could not bring himself to return to criminal law.

Alex went into the bedroom for a moment and then returned with a folded white robe. He set it on the counter and left again.

"Are you going to get in?" she asked. He returned with an antique wooden chair and set it near the bathtub. Alex sank into the chair like the day had worn the very life out of him.

He crossed his legs. One hand was in his pocket, the other on his leg. "No I'm not getting in."

"Just going to sit there?"

"I'm going to watch."

Peyton pressed her back against the far side of the tub. "Watch what exactly?"

"Watch you touch yourself."

"It's very dark. How can you see anything?" she said.

"I'll use my imagination."

"Maybe I'm touching myself right now. How would you even know?"

"I'll know."

Overcome with bashfulness, Peyton fluttered around in the water. Her head came to rest on the far edge.

"So what happened – tell me why you aren't going to have a job tomorrow -"

"Slide your fingers inside yourself," he said, ignoring the question.

It was possible this was a game, but his demeanor was quite serious.

"A-Alex, I'm not a very good exhibitionist. Get in the water, you said you've never used this tub," she said and dragged a finger along the edge.

"How old were you when you lost your virginity? Was it in school?"

Peyton's eyes grew wide. "No more trips down memory lane -"

"How old?"

"High school. I dunno. Sixteen, seventeen?"

"Did you get caught? Is that why your family sent you to Wyoming?"

"No. I-I was at a friend's house."

"You had sex with a friend?"

"No. I went over to study and of course he had other intentions. We wound up having sex."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what? Why the hell would you want to know about that?"

"I just do. How does one go from studying to fucking?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

Peyton suffered from memory lapse, it was ancient history and best forgotten about.

"Was it unpleasant?" Alex asked.

Peyton's toes peeked out of the froth. The temperature of the water wasn't increasing but her body was getting warmer.

"I wouldn't use the word unpleasant..." She tried to recall. Visions of that afternoon were fragmented and a bit embarrassing.

"What word would you use?"

"Well nobody's first time is good – it's all awkward and you don't know what the hell you're doing."

"So sex with this boy was awkward and you both didn't know what you were doing?"

"No, no, well, I don't know. I didn't mean it that way. Shit," she said growing in frustration. "I suppose your first time was fucking surreal. The heavens moved. Right?"

"We're talking about you right now."

Peyton frowned. "Uh, well, we were studying history if memory serves. He teased me about being a virgin. One thing kind of lead to another. Then we were on his couch. It was his dad's duplex. I was worried someone would see us. He kept wondering why I said I was saving myself for marriage. See? Dumb, innocent? Awkward."

"Was your family religious?"

"Was? They still are. But that's another bag of fucking worms for later."

"How does an innocent girl with a religious upbringing let some guy's dick enter her cunt?"

Peyton veered from his piercing gaze. "I – I'm not sure. Curiosity?"

"You weren't scared? Did he pressure you or push himself on you?"

"He was a bit, forward. But I guess I -"

"You what?"

"I wanted to know."

"I'm listening. Were you turned on?"

"Yeah. After awhile. Not at first. It was stuff I had never experienced before. I mean – that level of intense sexual feeling and not even knowing what to do."

"So what did you do? He fucked you. Where? In his bedroom?"

"Couch," she said biting her bottom lip, "first it was just fooling around. You know -"

"No I don't. Tell me. Did he make you touch his dick."

"Shit Alex. Uh, yes. Yes. I was - yeah, and then he was -" her voice drifted into unintelligible words.

"How did you not get pregnant?" Alex kept going.

"He had a condom. I didn't know even how they worked. Before I knew it, the whole act was over."

"But you didn't want it to be over."

Peyton glared at him. "No."

"Did you fuck him after that day?"

"Not really. We messed around several more times but that was it. I heard later he was more interested in dirty girls. I was too innocent and nice for him."

"How innocent are you right now?"

"Very innocent compared to the women you've fucked."

Alex got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the tub. She fluttered over and was meet with his hand around her neck and his mouth hungrily enveloping hers. He retracted for a moment, but said low and deep, "Touch yourself. Do it. Pretend you're alone and getting yourself off."

Peyton did as he requested but it wasn't enough. Soon his own hand guided hers and she grew more and more restless.

"Tell me to keep going -" Alex commanded. His fingers arousing warm flesh, summoning her release. Peyton complied, on her knees at the edge of the tub. Water lapped at their hands.

Without warning Alex retreated. He mandated to keep going. "Do what I ask," he said into her ear. Peyton closed her eyes, slipping her fingers in and out of herself. The further she pleasured herself, the less she noticed what he was doing. She failed to see him return to the chair.

Alex grew warmer and warmer. His own personal, private show. A beautiful creature lost and crumbling into a powerful orgasm. Forget self restraint any longer, he was harder than a fucking steel girder but he dare not let the monster out. Not yet.

Peyton collapsed into the water attempting to recover from the fervent release of energy. Sound and sight muted under the water, when she popped up again, Alex was gone from the room. The folded white bathrobe was sitting on the chair.

. . .

"I don't know where you keep any of your bathroom items." Peyton stood clad in an over-sized terry cloth robe wavering at the entrance to the kitchen.

Alex was at the counter absorbed in thought. "What did you need?" He was fixated on a note.

"A comb. My hair is going to be wild if I don't put a comb through it," she said. "Is something wrong?"

"No." He gazed over at her. "My maid leaves me little notes. Tells me stuff I'm out of."

"You have a maid?" Peyton took a step into the kitchen. Considering the magnitude of the house, the kitchen was small. It overlooked the living room through an opening in the wall above the sinks. A large butcher block island ate up most of the space in the kitchen.

"Look in the top drawer of the guest bathroom," he said.

"Guest bathroom? Why do you -"

"I never use my master bath. Hall bathroom is closer to my office."

Peyton disappeared and came back after finding the comb. The hot water of the jetted tub left her locks in a matted mess. She pulled out a bar stool from under the butcher block island and began the tedious process of combing out the tangles. This time her presence didn't go half ignored.

Alex watched her for a moment and then strode past. He returned with a small bottle.

"Allow me," he said. Peyton watched him pour thick fragrant cream into his hand.

"Conditioner left behind by the maid?"

"No. I use it on my own hair sometimes. Lest you forget we live in the high desert."

"You're a basket full of surprises."

"You have no idea," he said and grasped her hair with both hands. He took the comb from her and beginning at the crown of her head, slowly threaded it down to the tip of her hair.

"If you intended this as foreplay, I just want to let you know it's working," she said overcome. Anytime her hair was handled, a seductive sensation spread throughout her body.

Alex had no response. He was just as lost as she was. He threaded his fingers underneath her hair, massaging her scalp and then haphazardly gathered long sections of hair and twisted them on top of her head. The nape of her neck beckoned his lips. Tasting her supple, fresh skin was the straw that broke him.

"Get up," he said with one hand on the seat of the bar stool. The moment she moved forward, he tossed the thing like mere toy from underneath her. Embracing her from behind, his hands moved over her breasts, pushing aside the robe. His touch ran down past her taught little belly to luscious silken hair.

"Thank god you don't shave." His mouth toyed with the lobe of her ear.

"I would if you wanted," she said, giving a subdued groan.

"Hell fucking no. Don't ever."

His hands glided over the subtle ridge below her belly. She sucked in a breath of air as his fingers gently touched soft flesh. Still sensitive from the bathtub, Peyton was resistant to his summoning attempts.

"This time," he tore off the robe, and grasped her hips, "I'm going to apologize in advance."

The force from his inextricable need to grind himself into her tight, saturated pussy became unrelenting. Peyton grabbed onto the edge of the island with both hands trying to steady herself. Her jaw unhinged in an involuntary reaction to repetitive and ambitious introductions of his thickly swollen cock.

A raw, guttural sound proceeded his brutal climax.

"Shit," he drew out in raspy tone. Disbelief washing over him, he did not withdraw from her yet.

His hand, hot and moist, slid over hers. "I'm sorry. I'm -" he gasped for air, "sorry. Are you okay?"

"Don't you remember, you apologized in advance."

He leaned forward and kissed her neck. Hot breath cascaded over her skin.

"Well then -" Alex cupped a breast momentarily and then augmented the nipple into a taut little button. He pinched and teased until she couldn't stand it any more.

"Alex, Alex -"

"Go. You're there. I know it -" he said coaxing her orgasm from the shadows.

"I'm not. Wait –"

Alex performed a tease to the swollen tip of her clit and finally sent her off a spasmodic cliff.

"Breathe -" Alex held fast to her writhing body. She was grasping his arm so hard all of her knuckles were white.

"Wholly shit," she uttered. Her head drifted backward into him. He freed himself and turned her around and hungrily mated his mouth to hers. The kiss deepened causing him to grow dizzy.

Retracting slowly, her lower lip gently drawn out between his teeth, Alex gazed down upon Peyton. He smoothed her hair back and drew an imaginary line from her collarbone down over her supple breast, a tease of her nipple and down her side. Peyton leaned forward, her head meeting with his steel chest.

Alex wasn't the sort to spend all day at the gym. She suspected like everything else in his life, he utilized his well honed control to abstain from too much indulgence when it came to diet and drink.

Stray moments turned into avoidance of reality.

The insatiable lust waned. For now. Alex was surprised at his own wrath. She wasn't put off by his feverish need to fuck, and fuck hard which ignited thoughts of future encounters.

"It's late," he said. "I hope you aren't hungry."

"Not really," she lied.

He took her hand and lead her out of the kitchen. A quick flick of the light on the wall and something jogged his memory. "That's what I was looking at earlier – a note from my maid. She was reminding me I have not a morsel of food in the house."

"Sad that it takes a maid to tell you that." Petyon followed him down the hall.

Alex shed was what left of his clothes in a heap on the ground and in a forceful gesture, yanked all the covers back on the bed. He killed the lights and lay down. Not sure as to what kind of sleeper he was, Peyton curled in a ball, shivering.

A second later, Alex proved he wasn't about to leave her abandoned on one side of the massive bed. Nor did he believe that two lovers should remain apart during something so intimate as sleep. Mating his backside with hers, she fell asleep quickly with the warmth of his body. Alex took a bit longer to relax. His brain was in a vicious cycle which relented well after midnight.

. . .

Peyton shoved the key into the lock and goosed it. Her tummy was full and mind groggy from a large breakfast. Alex made up for the lack of food at his house by taking her to Lucy's, a downtown restaurant, famous for pancakes and just about every other breakfast food imaginable.

As if in a trance, Peyton opened a cupboard and took out a bag of cat food and filled a bright pink bowl on the ground. Cheeks came running out of thin air and assumed the usual crouched position at the dish. Peyton scratched the cat's rump and then left her in peace.

Ten minutes later she grasped a large cup of steaming coffee loaded with cream and sugar. She sank down against the Big Wall, stretching her legs out in front. Upon waking next to Alex this morning, his arm still draped over her midsection, she was ripped from the fairy-tale and plunked into drama.

A slurry of texts and voicemail box that was full awaited her attention. In an abrupt change of advice, Alex told Peyton to hold of contacting Gabrielle. Resist the urge to listen and read the messages he told her. Alex needed to straighten some things out upon returning to the office. Meeting up with her later was unlikely.

Peyton set the phone down. It was mind numbing to think back over the events of late. Not even a week ago her world contorted with unimaginable things. Not all of them bad. Exhausted, Peyton managed a few sips of coffee before falling asleep sitting against the wall.

Cheeks finished her meal and curled up at Peyton's feet. The only sound in the loft was a very slight hum of the traffic below on Fifth Street, a ticking wall clock, and a purring cat.

. . .

Alex took the stairs half way to the twenty third floor. It was rare that Alex didn't wear a very expensive suit to the office. On this day his visit to David Rose III called for an exceptionally expensive suit. The dark fabric didn't make a sound as he strode down the hallway toward the double doors.

"He's expecting you," the secretary rose up and met Alex. She graciously opened one door and smiled.

What a secretary should be...

"Well, Alex, there you are."

"David." Alex said and reached for the stiff, folded papers inside his suit pocket.

"I reviewed your email again. Must say, I am a bit surprised."

Alex paused.

"I've given this a lot of thought. I fear you are on the mark with this. We could be jeopardizing any appeal if the case didn't go our way the first round."

"I know you don't like loopholes sir, that's why I had to study the conflict of interest, albeit not a direct one."

"Quite right. I tend to agree. But Alex, when did you start seeing this girl? A recent encounter?"

"You could say that. Small world we live in."

"Yes. So it would seem. A bit unfortunate that your endeavors link the young Ms. Buckholtz unfavorably to you. And even more curious is the idea of you dating this artist. A difficult picture for me to grasp."

Great. He's heard of Peyton also. And and unfavorable link? Hardly.

Alex nodded. David got up slowly from his leather chair and shuffled to a small bar near the windows.

"Whisky?"

"Sure, you bet." Alex took it as a good sign that his boss was offering alcohol. A quick glance down at his watch. 11:58AM. Perfect timing.

"Who are you going to get as my replacement?" Alex asked, taking the drink.

"Well, I'm half thinking of sending this matter into our criminal department. It's not the sort of case I want to get our main firm entangled with." David consumed the whisky and set the glass on his desk blotter, "The bastard looks rather guilty."

Relief descended over Alex like a blanket falling out of the sky on a cold night.

"It's very messy. Something not unlike what I used to handle but -"

"The years away from all that shit doesn't make it easy to go back, does it?" David said. "Criminal law was my first start also, did you know that?"

"I did not." Alex was starting to see a thread developing. "I was aware you came to Reno from a successful practice in Denver." It was on the tip of his tongue...but he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Yes. Worked with that girl's father, Buckholtz. Briefly. Didn't see eye to eye. You know how it is."

Alex wanted to scream out like a school child. Fuck this couldn't be happening.

"Attorneys are a rough crowd."

"Hit the nail on the head, Alex. My ass has never been chapped worse than fighting with my own team at times."

"Hopefully I didn't provide too much of that discomfort sir."

David Rose let out a rare chuckle and clapped his hands together once. "Well then. Has Grant Eliason been notified? I suspect a bit of a mop up will take place."

"Yes sir, he has," Alex put away the whisky in one gulp. "I am intent on giving my resignation if you see it is fit."

David poured another drink for himself and Alex before sitting again. He appeared to be mulling over what Alex had proposed but it was hard to tell. The man was a stone cold poker faced master.

"You have some guts Alex. I would never had made you a partner without possessing the strong intestinal fortitude that I have witnessed over many years. Your deviation from team player now and then, while annoying, isn't a mark of a poor attorney or break from your integrity." David placed both arms on his desk and leaned forward. "You're too valuable here at the firm for me to accept any sort of resignation over a matter like this." He waved his hand dismissively.

"There may come a time I feel I need to move on."

David gave a nod. "Of course. We've had this talk before."

"Perhaps that time is not now," Alex said.

"I've got cases burning holes in my ass cheeks dammit. It better not be now."

Leave it to the aging man to find a crude way to convey something. Alex respected the old fart for that.

"Well. I need to get going. Some of the mess still needs attending to, as you said. Can't stay here all day allowing you to get me drunk, David." He stood.

"Then come on up to my lodge sometime Alex. Do you ski?"

"Of course. Lodge?"

"Aspen. Damn wife wants to sell it. I won't let her. Sits on two acres. Have I ever had you come out to Colorado?"

"No."

David whisked his hand in the air again. "This winter. It's firm. You and whoever. Bring a date. Bring the artist. I don't care. Give me someone to talk to besides my wife's family for damn sakes."

Alex laughed. "Of course. I'd be delighted. That's very generous."

"Oh and Alex -" David said before he was out the door. "By the way, how's Tricia?"

"She's the same prickly bitch as always. Doing well. Getting herself media exposure. Eating it all up."

"Always thought you both would stay quite the couple. Glad to hear you settled your differences."

"Well, some of them. See you soon. Send me some of those cases David, my calendar is looking pretty clear after next week."

"Will do."

Alex let the door slowly shut and gave a nod to the secretary. He rounded a corner and reached the elevators. No stairs this time. His legs were just beginning to recover from being reduced to mush. A few more unpleasant details to handle before the weekend. He wanted nothing hanging over his head.

. . .

Go ahead and contact her, if you haven't yet. [Alex]

What do you mean if I haven't yet? I did what you said and didn't look at my phone. [Peyton]

Good. Then proceed. She will have a lot to say. [Alex]

How would you know that? [Peyton]

I'll tell you more tonight. Have a lot of work. Talk later. [Alex]

Fucker. What the hell was all that?

Peyton put down a paint brush and washed her hands. She grabbed the phone and tapped Gabrielle's name in her contacts. It rang two times. Peyton started to rehearse something to say over voicemail but on the third ring, Gabby picked up.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"Can I say I'm sorry first? You have a good reason for hating me."

"No you can't apologize and you can't explain."

"Please Gab. How the fuck was I to know everything? About Grant? About what he – he is accused of and that the one fucking time I mess around with a lawyer – it gets all linked back to you."

Gabrielle was silent for a few painful moments. Then her voice dropped, "You haven't even asked how I am."

"Well how the hell are you?"

"What do you think? I'm terrible."

"Where are you?"

Gabrielle tried to hold back the tears. "I'm in Las Vegas. At my folk's house. Your boyfriend put me on a flight this earlier this afternoon. P-p-private jet."

Peyton hated to admit she was impressed.

"So what's happening now? Alex has a conflict of interest."

"Don't you know?"

"No. I don't know anything."

Well, that was half true.

"He's taken himself off the case, Peyton. I don't know who is going to be Grant's lawyer now. I'm not supposed to contact Grant. I'm supposed to file a restraining order but I can't bring myself to do it."

"Who told you to file the order?"

"The police. I guess I could be a target," she said crying again.

Peyton thought about what Alex said last night.

"Um, Gab – tell me something, and don't get mad."

"I'm already mad at you."

"Was there – I mean, did Grant ever – I don't know how to put this. You guys were okay? Before the thing with Todd? Was Grant good to you?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Did he belittle you? Threaten you? I know you were in love with him but -"

"You have got some nerve. Grant and I were wonderful. He was the perfect, most caring, generous, stable man I've ever been with."

Stable? Okay so it was time to change the subject.

"Never mind. I'm just tired. Forget what I said. But maybe you should get your own attorney. I mean for when Grant goes to trial."

"There's no reason. This whole thing is going to blow over and the police will catch Todd's killer."

Peyton tossed a rag at the window. "Okay. Sure. You're right."

Gabrielle needed to unleash her pain and anger on someone and Peyton was an easy target. The fact that Gabrielle was so angered at the question of abuse was a red flag. Gabrielle was her ex-agent in the world of art for a reason. The wild ups and downs in her behavior was startling and often agitating. Peyton could call few people friends. Many were acquaintances. Gabrielle fit somewhere in between.

"Well, then..." Peyton didn't know what to say next.

"I have to go," Gabrielle said.

"Keep in touch."

"You call me if you hear anymore from that lawyer."

"Okay," Peyton lied. "Bye."

Alex was off the case? He failed to mention that earlier.

'She will have a lot to say'

Well he did express last night and this morning it was a conflict of interest. Also that he didn't work this type of law anymore. Peyton glanced at a huge metal clock on the wall. 4:22PM. Alex never got off work early and she expected it would be even later than normal tonight.

Peyton wrenched the kitchen faucet on hard. She uncharacteristically scrubbed her paint cups longer than normal. After tossing everything onto a large mat, she climbed onto the window ledge and sat for a good long while.

The afternoon wind had picked up and was blowing bits of trash around the street. And occasional dust devil touched down sending dust and dirt in all directions. The orchestrated chaos matched her sour mood. One thing was becoming clear – she would rather spend the night alone.

Chapter Eight – Bridge

Friday.

Alex slammed the phone down. His visions of leaving the office before 8PM were a wash. This Grant character was walking a thin line. At the night of Peyton's show, Alex's first impression of Grant Eliason was mixed. That impression quickly changed to a great deal of disgust. The firm had provided him with a shrewd, up and coming criminal attorney. But Grant didn't take to the switch lightly. He was out for....well, revenge. Alex revisited his concern that Peyton's life could be threatened. Peyton was connected to the case. Alex was now connected to Peyton, albeit for different reasons. Eliason was powerful. He made demands and people delivered otherwise they were punished. The fucker shouldn't be underestimated.

The few details Alex knew from the District Attorney's report was that Eliason had a gap of unexplained time preceding his arrest last Friday night. The girl, his fiancee, had sexual relations with a former high school friend in a motel north of town. A witness at the motel identified Eliason's car, which wasn't hard. The dumb shit drove a very expensive European model. Not available in the United States. It was unclear how Eliason knew the affair would take place. He lay in wait outside that damned motel. So the fact that Gabrielle left, caught up with Peyton after and spilled her guts about the sexual interlude was important timeline information.

Alex tapped the call icon on his cell phone and waited. Understandably, Peyton shot him down last night. Just as well. He didn't leave the office until 9:30PM. But all day today, Friday, he couldn't get his train of thoughts deterred from her.

"Hello."

She's angry.

"How's your friend?"

Peyton stalled in her response and tapped the end of a paintbrush on the table.

"Tell me," Alex said.

"I'm pissed."

"Understandable."

"Been fucking you over the course of the last week and yet I hear from Gabrielle yesterday that she should get a restraining order. And then there's the bit about Grant abusing her. I got so spooked that I spent last night huddled in bed with a baseball bat."

"Yes. No argument that I'm an asshole in all this. And I'm sorry I wasn't there to provide peace of mind."

"Well am I in danger from this guy? Why can't you tell me more?"

"I can't divulge all the details of the case," Alex said. Her father was a lawyer, Peyton should have some understanding of how it all works.

"But you divulged them to Gabby. Why else would you fly her to Las Vegas?"

"She's a key part of the investigation. The fact that her fiancee is out on bail is a little concerning."

"What the fuck is Grant being charged with Alex?"

"I don't want to discuss this over the phone."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Our first argument," he said.

"Yeah? So fucking what. I need to go," she said and hung up.

Peyton swore loudly.

How did I get myself entangled in all this?

She went to the window, expecting answers to come bursting through the glass. In the distance a band was setting up the amphitheater for tonight's concert.

Enough with sitting around at home. She went to the bedroom and yanked on a pair of her favorite jeans, torn in one knee, fraying at the bottom. Then she wriggled into a tight black shirt that said, Reno Guild of Artists LLC across the chest in white lettering. She shoved her phone into the back pocket of her pants and slipped on her favorite flip flops. A bit of primping in the large oval bathroom mirror and a dash of color to her lips. Keys were grasped off a hook next to the door and soon enough she was standing on the sidewalk below.

. . .

The Riverside Bar was jammed full of people. More than she had ever lay witness too in previous visits. She pushed and shoved her way to the patio where it was even worse. People stood along the exterior wall, drinks in hand, waiting for a table. Peyton managed a small yank on the shirt sleeve of her favorite waiter. After asking him to repeat himself, she nodded and started back inside.

It was the last concert of the summer season. Notorious for drawing huge crowds due to the media coverage, the entire riverfront area saw a surge in patronage.

Peyton slipped between two hipster chicks at the end of the inside bar. A cloud of perfume wafted from them both, burning her nose. She ordered a Tequila Sunrise, a habitual drink to close out summer. The bartender, recognizing Peyton, gave her a wink and pushed the drink toward her. Peyton left some money and took the glass of orangish booze.

In the back was a hall lined with ledges and bar stools. At the end she spotted a vacant seat and sat down. A few flirty looks from drunk customers and one grotesque display of someone grabbing their crotch forced Peyton outside. She finished half the drink and left the glass on a table cluttered with empty beer bottles.

The air was thick with the scent of garlic and barbecue smoke. Before long she reached the fateful steps. Instead of a drunken stupor this time, she was lightly buzzed and hopped down the cement embankment to the river overlook. She grasped the railing, hovering for a few minutes. Hoards of families and couples covered every last square inch of grass, and even the cement walkways in some areas.

"Hi baby," some passerby teased. Laughter erupted from several more.

Great. I must have a sign on my back that says, whore at large.

Peyton decided it was much too crazy to stay. She glanced down at her phone screen. No messages from Alex. More from Gabrielle however. Something in her gut told her to ignore them tonight.

Lost in thought, she turned and started over the bridge. Flickering lights from below caught her attention and she paused half way. Leaning over the railing slightly she watched hundreds of little floating lanterns make their way down the river.

"Pretty isn't it?" a familiar voice spoke behind her. A hand on her shoulder and she flipped around so hard her lower back slammed into the bridge railing. He came to her aide, instantly sorry that his sneak attack ended up an assault.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Peyton asked.

"I see you made it down the stairs by yourself," Alex said, releasing his grasp.

"It wasn't easy."

"I apologize my services were unavailable." Alex casually leaned against the railing, holding his suit jacket over one shoulder. "This is a bad area to hang out by yourself."

"As you may have noticed, I'm now, no longer by myself," Peyton said.

"Yes. I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"Oh? Are you offering escort services?"

"Actually I was noticing a quiet spot right over there," he motioned.

"To perhaps relax and listen to music?" Peyton drew near and toyed with the end of his tie.

"I had some other ideas."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with a lewd act in a public place, would it?"

"Well, since you put it that way."

Peyton wormed her feet between his and slid her hands around his midsection.

"Can't we go to my place? It's right over there?" She grinned.

"Too far. I was thinking about fucking you on this bridge right here, right now," Alex said, maintaining a casual vocal tone.

"But you're a lawyer -" she teased.

"And your point is?" He let go of the suit jacket which fell to the ground behind them. Alex wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. His fingers threaded into the soft hair at the back of her head.

Someone amidst a mob of people making their way over the bridge screamed loudly, "Get a room!"

Peyton felt Alex's hot breath in her ear. "Who needs a room when we have a perfectly good bridge?"

Look for the next book in this three part series -  
The Art of Lawlessness - Debrief Me

Kenna Derrick lives in Reno, Nevada with her two dogs. Please visit her blog to find out more.  
<https://kennaderrick.wordpress.com/>
