The Switch Saga Pt. 01

The Switch Saga

Part One

Tiffany carefully studied the grain of the wood table in front of her. It was a beast of a table, staggeringly large, staggeringly old and staggeringly expensive. The firm was deeply proud of it, and there was a carefully maintained Google Sheet listing every settlement that had been reached while sitting at it. It sat in the firm's prime conference room, and they wooed all of their most valuable prospective clients in this room and around this table. The founder and managing partner had a long speech about the table that he loved to make to prospective clients - the firm's solidity and reliability and experience reflected in the proud cherry oak of this venerable example of fine American craftsmanship, et cetera, et cetera. Tiffany supposed it might be a good speech, but she had heard it often enough that the effect had long since been lost on her.

But this afternoon she was as intently fixated on the table as the old man could be. Staring down at the table seemed to her a better option than getting involved in the fight Anthony and Aurora were having.

"We can't just attack the whistleblower! It's not enough, and even if it was, it's not going to work."

"Yes, Aurora, you've made that opinion very clear. Several times. But that's what we're going with. We're not changing our entire litigation strategy two weeks before trial."

Aurora pushed her chair back with a grunt of frustration and began pacing around the conference room - there was plenty of space, even with the impressive bulk of the table. Out of the corner of her eye Tiffany could see Anthony take his glasses off and toss them on the table. He began rubbing his forehead.

"Let me say this again," Aurora said, leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the Pike Place Market and the rest of the waterfront. She folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs at her ankles. A bit of sunlight sliced between the skyscrapers surrounding their office and made her red hair shimmer fiercely. "Attacking Dr. Levinson isn't going to work because no one is going to buy it. He's a well-respected scientist. He worked for our client for more than 30 years - he started as a damn intern and during all that time never so much as stole a pen. We're not going to convince a jury that he's greedy enough or disgruntled enough or even just stupid enough to simply make up a fairy tale about a dangerous product."

"I absolutely can convince a jury of that," Anthony said.

"Yeah, because you're just that persuasive?"

Tiffany suppressed a sigh of frustration.

"No, not because I'm that persuasive, though thank you again for the vote of confidence," Anthony said through gritted teeth. "I can convince a jury of that because of Levinson's financial records. Second mortgage on the house in Queen Anne, messy divorce after 20 years of marriage, bad investment with his friend's start-up... you don't have to be Michelangelo to paint a convincing picture out of that."

"He's not asking for money! He went to his bosses and told them the new locking devices could unexpectedly snap shut and hurt customers. And when they told him to get lost, he went to the state of Washington and filed a whistleblower complaint. He did everything you're supposed to do and a jury is going to see that."

"He did everything he was supposed to do... after trying to extort half a million dollars from the CTO. They turned him down and now he's pursuing this out of revenge. Classic story."

Aurora threw up her hands.

"You know that story isn't credible! We're going to pit an accomplished scientist against the weaselly failson of the company's founder? We've both talked to Hank Phillips, Anthony - he's going to remind jurors of the dumbest kid in every class they've ever taken. He's going to remind them of every boss's son who ever fired them and then laughed about it. Lawrence is going to destroy him on the stand."

Anthony shrugged.

"Hank Phillips is our client, and I have no reason to disbelieve him," he said. "There's no record of the conversation, so there's no way to disprove his testimony, and pitting Hank against Levinson introduces the doubt we need to get the verdict we need. He said-he said. And I continue to think you're overestimating opposing counsel here."

"I went to law school with Lawrence Walter," Aurora said. "He has no sense of personal hygiene, but he's the most prepared person I've ever met. You're not going to surprise him. He'll know exactly what to do when he cross-examines Phillips."

"Yeah, well, we can prepare too," Anthony said in a tone that suggested finality. "We bring Phillips into the office, spend an entire day throwing questions at him, make sure he understands the stakes. Tiffany's good at witness prep."

Tiffany offered a little nod and a thin smile of acknowledgement.

"None of this is the point," Aurora said, her voice rising in pitch. "Even if you could completely discredit Dr. Levinson, successfully paint him as a fraud and a failure, that's not enough -"

"It is absolutely enough! Levinson is all they have. No Levinson, no case."

"They have the February 7 e-mail, Anthony!" Aurora couldn't stop herself from shouting. Tiffany flinched a little at the sound.

"A joke," Anthony said, his voice a model of soothing placation. "Made in poor taste, yes, but no one will take it literally."

Aurora walked back to her seat, her long legs covering the distance in just a few strides. She pulled a piece of paper from a leather binder.

"February 7, 2021, e-mail from head of product design Chris Lobnow to Hank Phillips. It says -"

"I know what it says, Aurora, you don't have to -"

"It says, 'Yeah, the locks are probably going to pinch a few fingers, but they'll pinch more wallets, so it's still a win for us.' First of all, I don't even know what the fuck that means. If we're trying to argue that it's humor then it would be really helpful if the thing was, you know, humorous."

"It's an attempt at satire," Anthony said in the tone of a teacher patiently explaining a complicated lesson to a befuddled student. "Lobnow is deliberately adopting the voice of the caricature that Levinson had painted of him - greedy, stupid, apathetic. Yes, it's clumsy, and no, it doesn't look good, but it's obviously a joke."

"Oh, good, that's helpful, because a jury won't think that explanation sounds like disingenuous bullshit -"

"Enough!" Anthony slammed his hand on the heavy oak table, causing Tiffany's head to shoot up. Even Aurora looked taken aback.

"That's it. I'm lead counsel on this case. I asked you to take second chair because you're the best product liability lawyer at this firm and in this city and having you on the team was in the best interest of our client. And I have always welcomed debate and disagreement, even when it's heated."

Yeah, you've said that an awful lot, Tiffany thought but didn't say.

"You made this argument when the firm took the case a year and a half ago. You made this argument a month later in front of the fucking client, and I didn't say one word to you about that lovely little display of unprofessionalism. You made this argument six months ago after discovery. And you've made this argument in so many e-mails that my inbox now just addresses me as 'You Idiot.' And you've made this argument today.

"And now I'm saying enough. You've made your argument, I've listened to it and I don't agree with it and now I'm saying enough. Debate is fine, but eventually someone has to make a decision and call an end to it. And that's what I'm doing now. We have our strategy. Period. End of discussion. Is there anything else?"

Tiffany could feel the fury radiating off Aurora. She would have sworn there was an actual, physical heat to that anger. Aurora gripped the table so hard her knuckles turned a ghastly shade of white.

"No." Aurora practically spat the word out.

"Lovely," Anthony said, standing up from the table. "I'll call Phillips, get him in for prep."

He walked over to the conference room's glass door, pushed it open with rather more force than was strictly necessary and left without saying another word.

Aurora waited for the door to shut, then slapped the table with enough force that it sounded like a firecracker had gone off in the conference room. A second of tense silence followed, and then she slapped the table again. And then one more time, as though to punctuate her explosion.

And then Aurora turned on her heel and left, like Anthony, without saying a word.

Tiffany sat alone at the massive table, took a deep breath and began silently counting in her head. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi. She stopped at thirty-Mississippi.

***

Aurora was staring intently at her computer when Tiffany slipped into her office and shut the door behind her. She had one hand on the mouse, clicking furiously, while the fingers on her other hand drummed tonelessly on her desk.

"Hey, can you have one of your paralegals pull Dr. Levinson's financials?" Aurora asked the question without looking up. "It's like my dad always said: any stupid thing worth doing is worth doing right."

Tiffany didn't respond, instead settling gently into one of the small, handsome wooden chairs in front of Aurora's desk. There was a short stretch of silence, broken only by the sound of Aurora's incessant mouse clicking. Then Aurora looked up for the first time and sighed.

"Is it lecture time again?"

Tiffany nodded. Aurora sighed again, then made an "All right, hit me" gesture with both of her hands.

"You know that sort of thing is exactly why they're never going to make you a senior partner, right?" Tiffany's tone was conversational and matter of fact.

Aurora blinked.

"Pardon?"

"That argument with Anthony... you know, the one from about two minutes ago? I'm just saying that if, in the future, you find yourself wondering why you can't move up the ladder here, that's the reason."

Aurora rolled her eyes - gray in color, always searching, rarely still.

"I really don't care about getting my name on the front of the building," Aurora said.

"Bullshit."

Aurora cocked an eyebrow.

"I do outrank you, you know."

Tiffany shrugged, and Aurora couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"You're a lot smarter than I am, and that's fine, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid," Tiffany said. "Of course you want your name on the building. In law school you once went three days without sleep because you couldn't understand a footnote in Carlill v. Carbolic Smoke Ball Company, and you wanted to be prepared on the off chance there was a question about it on the final exam for your contracts class. You were so out of it you stumbled face first into Karen Singleton's bed."

"Karen wasn't exactly broken up about it, as I recall."

"No, she was pretty OK with the 6'1 redhead appearing in her bed as if by magic, but still," Tiffany said. "You don't do that if you're an 'aw shucks, I'm just glad to be here' type. So, yeah, you want your name on the building. And you should! You're the smartest lawyer in this place. You work twice as hard as anybody else. You've made this firm... God, I don't even know how much money you've made this firm. You absolutely deserve to be a named partner here. But it's never going to happen if you keep behaving like the most stubborn donkey on the farm."

Aurora threw up her hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, you caught me, though I don't know that I love the donkey metaphor," she said. "Yeah, sure, I want to be a named partner. That would be great. But I love my job. I make great money, I do interesting work. If it doesn't happen, well... I'm not going to completely change who I am just so I can admire my own name on the wall. I'm not that egotistical."

Tiffany groaned and rubbed her forehead in an unconscious imitation of Anthony's gesture.

"That's not what I'm asking you to do and you know it," she said. "It's not about changing your personality - it's about showing the tiniest damn bit of restraint.

"Quick question: what's the name of this firm?"

Aurora rolled her eyes again.

"Jansen, Jansen and Lyle," she said. Tiffany nodded in response.

"Right. And what's Anthony's last name?"

"Jansen."

"So maybe you don't get into a shouting match with him in the main conference room," Tiffany said. "Maybe you don't call his litigation strategy 'disingenuous bullshit.' Hell, for that matter maybe you let Mr. Lyle beat you when he challenges you to a friendly game of tennis at the summer picnic."

"Hey, you leave your dropshots long, I'm going to punish you for it."

Tiffany's smile was tight and mirthless.

"Look, if you were a man, none of this would matter. The stubbornness, pushing back every time you disagree with something, even beating the boss at tennis - totally fine. Hell, it would probably help you. But you're not a man. And seeing as how you're a mile smarter and about four inches taller than all of these guys... well, you know how men behave when they're intimidated."

Aurora looked thoughtful and ran her tongue around the inside of her lips. Tiffany could see the gears turning in her head.

"There's speaking truth to power, and then there's poking power in the eye and making fun of it for having a small dick. One of those things is important - even noble. The other is just pride and self-righteous stupidity in the service of a martyr's complex. I'd rather not see you get burned at the stake."

Tiffany stood up and walked to the door.

"Lecture's over. I'll get you the financials."

Aurora nodded and watched Tiffany leave. She stood up from her chair and walked over to the door, intending to close it. Instead she stood in silence for a while, watching the office buzz outside. Young attorneys hustled across the office, balancing large bundles of files with their free hands while they chattered at machine-gun pace into their phones. The office landlines ran incessantly, and she could hear the pleasant, chirpy tone of the firm-mandated response to any phone call: "Jansen, Jansen and Lyle. Justice never sleeps and neither do we."

She was struck by a brief, intense, inexplicable wave of nostalgia -- watching the scurrying young lawyers, memories of her time as an intern, then a brand-new junior associate, struck her with surprising force. Those were objectively miserable times, years of long hours and little money and mind-numbing tedium and the groping hands of more senior attorneys. And yet she smiled to think of herself back then - more idealistic, more energetic. Equally as stubborn, she supposed. It was certainly easier to keep the weight off in her 20's. It was a time when she truly considered it an honor to spend 18 hours a day doing document review, because she was doing it for Jansen, Jansen and Lyle.

Well, she thought. Let's try not to disappoint that bright young thing. She smiled again and closed the door.

***

The editor-in-chief's office was a tiny, uncomfortable space at the best of times. It was cramped and stifling with three men stuffed inside of it. Kevin thought that the mutual loathing between Brian and their boss occupied what little space was left.

"Look, if you're worried about getting sued, just say so," Brian said.

Oh, man, exactly the wrong approach, Kevin thought, trying to suppress his instinct to cringe.

Sure enough, Mike's face began to glow a livid red - it stood out starkly against the white collar of his cheap dress shirt. He stood up from his tiny desk, placed his palms on its surface (or, rather, on some of the reams of loose paper scattered across it) and fixed Brian with a fierce stare.

"I'm not worried about getting sued, though make no mistake, Fason will absolutely sue us into the ground if we run this story," Mike said, each word spat out with audible agitation. "And he'll sue us for the same reason I'm not running it - because you. Don't. Have. It."

Shit. This time Kevin couldn't stop himself from cringing.

Brian stood up to his full height, which left him looking down on both men. Kevin could see him dig his nails into his palms.

"I have the story," he said, his voice deathly calm. "I have seven sources -"

"Only one willing to go on the record, and he's not confirming any of the most important allegations."

"The other six aren't willing to go on the record because Fason's the biggest real estate developer in Seattle! If they talk he'll bury them so deep you couldn't get to them with a jackhammer and a fork lift!"

"Which is why we need this story to be bulletproof," Mike said, shifting into mentor mode. "Fason owns the most valuable land in the city - waterfront, Queen Anne, downtown, you name it, he has the best parcels in his portfolio. He's richer than Crassus, and by the way, he's funded so many charities in this town that he's the most popular person in the state. The only reason he's not Governor right now is that it would be a demotion.

"So if we're going to accuse this man of building his fortune on violent extortion, of bribery, of corrupting every major politician in Washington State and of shocking negligence in the construction of an apartment tower resulting in the deaths of five construction workers, then we need to be 100 percent sure. And Brian, I've been in journalism for 35 years, and I'm telling you, we are nowhere close."

Brian threw up his hands in a gesture Kevin found a little melodramatic.

"No story is 100-percent bulletproof! There are always holes. You can always find one more source, run down one more piece of information. If we waited to be 100 percent then this would be a really fucking barren newspaper."

Their boss sat down with a heavy, weary plop. His beaten down old chair sagged under his weight. He looked at Brian and shrugged.

"This story needs to be 100 percent. That's how it has to be."

Brian stared at his boss for what seemed an eternity, his lips locked tightly together, his teeth grinding behind them. Kevin began easing out of his seat, waiting to see what Brian would say. He was obviously choosing his next words carefully.

He chose a very simple one.

"Coward."

Kevin and Mike bolted out of their seats at the same moment, and Mike would have launched himself at Brian if not for the desk between them. Instead he awkwardly lunged forward over the desk, his stubby, ink-stained fingers reaching out for Brian's neck with an unmistakable sense of malevolence.

And then Kevin slid between Brian and the desk and their boss, smooth as water flowing between riverbanks, and he was gently pushing Brian toward the back wall of the office and away from Mike.

"Hey now, OK, deep breaths, all right?" Very eloquent, Writer Man, Kevin thought as he watched Mike and his bulk rise up and begin stepping around his desk. Come up with something better or he's going to punch through you to get to Brian.

Kevin placed a hand on Brian's chest and looked into his friend's eyes - they were blazing, but more with fear than anger. But Brian was standing tall and looking straight at Mike, even if he wasn't trying to push Kevin away.

He's scared but he's not going to back down. Kevin turned desperately back to their boss.

"Mike, OK, that wasn't fair, we all know it," Kevin said, trying to make his voice soothing but not condescending. "Big story, big feelings, sometimes nerves get frayed, right? Brian's been working this nonstop for six months. He barely sleeps. He's just passionate about this. I know you know that."

Mike was still looking at them with murder in his eyes, but at least he was still behind his desk.

"Do you know how much interference I've run for you?" Mike jabbed his finger in Brian's direction. "Publisher's told me a half-dozen times to kill this story and throw your ass out onto the street. That sound fun to you, Bishop? Does this seem like a good time to be an unemployed newspaper reporter?"

Brian set his jaw and said nothing. Definitely for the best.

"He knows what you've done for him," Kevin said, and looked back at Brian imploringly. Brian nodded with reluctance heavy enough to sprain his neck. "OK, see? We're all on the same team here. We all want to get this story out. This is the kind of story that brought us to The Argus. Mike, you know everything in the story is true, right?"

"Of course I do!" Mike shouted, but his breathing began to slow, and he took a small step back. "It's a good story. But good isn't good enough - not with this. We're not the Seattle Times, boys. We don't have lawyers on retainer. If we give Fason one mistake he'll pounce on it and all three of us will spend the next however many years of our lives giving depositions and sitting in courtrooms."

"We'll win," Brian said, quietly, his tone somewhat sulking.

"That doesn't matter," Kevin said. "Fason doesn't need to win. The amount of money we'll have to spend just to fight the case - the paper won't survive. And all of three us will end up making a lot of new friends in bankruptcy court."

Mike held out his hand in a "Finally, someone gets it" gesture. Brian gets it too - he just can't admit it now.

"All right, so... we go back to work, OK? We need more sources on the record. Mike, what about Brian's source at the accounting firm handling Fason's finances? The woman who gave us the tax documents. She was an inch away from agreeing to go on the record last time we talked. I think she likes Brian - has a thing for tall guys. We get her, where does that put us?"

Mike took a deep breath, and in a flash he had transformed from man with murderous intent back into a newspaper editor. He ran a hand over his bare scalp.

"It wouldn't get us all the way there, but... but we'd be close," he said, the initial reluctance in his voice giving way to a rising excitement. "You get her on the record and I might be able to convince the brass to shell out for a few hours of a forensic accountant's time. They can go through the financials, tell us what the numbers mean. If they give us a report - something big, formal, on company letterhead with a Latin motto, all signed by Covington Prescott Lowell The Third - that might be enough for us to publish."

Kevin looked back at Brian and gave him another imploring stare. This time Brian didn't wait to nod his acquiescence.

Great. Get him the fuck out of the office now.

"Perfect! Thank you, Mike. We'll get right on it, I promise."

Kevin threw his arm around Brian's shoulders and began pulling him toward the office door. Mike waved a dismissive hand at the two of them and again sat down in his overburdened chair.

Kevin was able to guide Brian through the office and back to their desks - not that it took too much time. The Argus could only afford a mousehole-sized space tucked into the back corner of an old downtown office building. There was room for five desks and Mike's tiny office.

Instead of sitting down, Brian grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. He had told Kevin that it had been blue when he bought it back in high school - but that was around the time America was losing its mind over Y2K. Decades of brutal weather had blasted the color off it and rendered it a dull, blank, washed out gray.

"You're going out?" Kevin asked incredulously.

"I have to go talk to the accounting lady," Brian said as he walked to the exit door. He cracked it open, then cast a pained glance back at Kevin.

"She likes tall men?"

Kevin shrugged.

"That was my sense, yeah."

Brian grimaced.

"I'll find a shirt with vertical stripes."

***

Tiffany flashed her wedding ring at a strange man for the second time in five minutes. His eyes widened in recognition, and there was a brief flash of disappointment on his face. Then he offered a tight smile of apology, nodded and walked away.

That one was kind of cute, at least, she thought as she sipped her beer. Not bad, but it isn't 10 dollars not bad, that's for damn sure. She propped herself up on her barstool and strained her eyes to get a look at the front door. No sign of her husband, but it was hard to see anything through the crush of the Friday night crowd.

She settled back on her stool and stole another glimpse at her phone. Nothing. She became aware of a heavy scent of booze and sweat behind her, and as she turned in her seat a very large man in a massive yellow poncho stumbled past, his knee slamming into hers.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" She frowned as the man waddled away with no apparent reaction to their collision.

The drunk drivers always get away without any injuries, she thought as she turned back toward the bar, rubbing her knee. There was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow.

She felt a hand fall softly on her shoulder, and she whirled around in an agitated flurry of annoyance.

"Hey, asshole, not intere -"

Kevin's eyes were wide with amused shock, and he very slowly took his hand off his wife's shoulder. He took one big, theatrical step backward. Tiffany laughed and grabbed his tie, pulling him back toward the bar.

"You're late," she said reproachfully. "It has not been a fun time at the old saloon in your absence, I can tell you that."

Kevin shrugged, then leaned down and kissed her. She reached up and ran her hand through his hair.

"I am sorry about that," he said after they disengaged. The bartender, a dangerously thin man in a white dress shirt, suspenders and handlebar mustache, walked by. Kevin waved to get his attention, but the bartender passed without acknowledging him. "Fun place. But yeah, sorry, I got caught up in something at work and then traffic... well, insert usual excuses here."

Tiffany shrugged and held up her beer. Kevin shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I haven't been here that long. Besides, the male attention was nice."

Kevin affected a look of wounded dignity.

"Don't be scandalous, Tiffany," he said in a haughty British accent. "Comport yourself with a little bit of -- hey, he's coming back! Hey, buddy, can I get -"

The bartender pointed at someone at the far end of the bar and left to take their order.

"His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows! Why are his sleeves rolled up? He's serving drinks, not bare-knuckle boxing in the 1890's."

Tiffany gave the bartender an appraising look.

"Wouldn't bet on him to last very long in one of those fights," she said. Kevin nodded in agreement. "What was the thing at work?"

"What?"

"The thing at work you got caught up in and made you late for this date with your hot-piece-of-ass wife."

"I'll make that up to you later," Kevin said. Tiffany winked at him. "But work, yeah... I had to play peacekeeper with Mike and Brian again."

"Do I know Brian?"

"Mentioned him a few times, but no, you've never met him," Kevin said. "He's an investigative reporter. Well, you know, it's The Argus, so he's an investigative reporter, a features writer, he's on the police beat, he does sportswriting, movie reviews, whatever."

"And he got into it with Mike? That guy chews drywall for a snack. Brian must have some balls."

"I'd say more balls than brains, but he's got plenty of those, too, if I'm being honest," Kevin said, leaning over the bar and wildly waving both hands in the direction of the bartender. The thin man looked over, made eye contact, then turned and resumed chatting with a pretty redhead who was sipping a martini.

"Good reporter. And he's got a great story here - I mean, a really big one. No lie. It's politicians-resigning-in-disgrace big. But he's also got a total lack of restraint."

Tiffany cocked her head to the side and eyed her husband with interest.

"What do you mean?"

Kevin raised his hand again, then shrugged with resignation and let his arm drop to his side.

"Most stubborn human being I've ever met," he said. "I mean, like I said - it's a big story, so I get why he's frustrated. But you don't get into a pissing contest with Mike. You certainly don't call the man a coward in his office."

Tiffany's eyebrows shot up involuntarily.

"Really? This man called Mike a coward and he still walks the Earth?"

"Thanks to me, hand to god. Mike would have thrown him out the window if he had the chance. Tourists slogging their way up First Hill, stepping over splattered reporter remains. It might just be a temporary reprieve, too, if Brian doesn't learn to keep his mouth shut every once in a while."

Tiffany was eyeing her husband again with a curious look.

"This friend of yours... is he single?"

"I think so," Kevin said. "Why? You know you're not, right?"

Tiffany smiled and took another sip of her beer.

"How tall is he?"

***

The thing about a first date with a redhead who was over six-feet tall, Brian reflected as he stepped out the restaurant's revolving door and into a small and tastefully adorned waiting area, was that you didn't have any problem spotting your date.

She was sitting at a large, semi-circular booth not far from the front of the restaurant - it was expansive enough to seat four or five people, but it was a sparse crowd this time of night, and there were a lot of empty tables in the place. The booth had red leather seating and was topped with a ring of frosted glass.

Brian caught her eye and she acknowledged him with a slight, nervous wave. He smiled and returned the gesture.

A perky, petite blond woman in a white dress shirt smiled at him from behind the hostess stand. Brian pointed at the table behind her.

"Just meeting someone for dinner."

The hostess looked behind her, nodded, and offered a large smile full of glittering white teeth.

"Of course, sir. Please enjoy your meal."

There were murals of Greek mythological scenes on the walls, mostly stories of oceans and seas and rivers. The colors were muted, the figures somewhat stylized and abstract with a few distinguishing features. The floor was built of marble tiles of different colors made to resemble bodies of water - sea-gray tiles subtly merged into the dark blue of a deep lake subtly merged into the bright, light blue of a Caribbean bay. Large tridents hung inconspicuously from the ceiling, silver and gray tridents alternating through the space in carefully ordered and meticulously spaced rows.

Aurora rose to greet him as he walked over. She was as tall as Kevin had told him, at least six feet, even in flats. Her ruby red hair fell gently down to her shoulders and stood out starkly against her pale skin (Seattle, Brian thought. Not a ton of sunbathing here). She wore a navy-blue dress that ended a couple of inches above her knees - it was fairly tight down to her hips, then flared out a bit to give her legs (those long, toned, 1940's nightclub dancer legs) room to breathe.

Aurora noticed the coolly assessing look in his dark hazel eyes - A reporter's habit, she thought. He had come wearing the standard male Seattleite uniform for a date in a nice restaurant - dark blazer over a light blue dress shirt tucked into dark blue jeans. He had thick black hair (a little gray at the temples, she noted) that he had clearly made an effort to comb and brush into neatness, but the sides fell over his ears, and the top couldn't help but look a bit unkempt - he was overdue for a haircut, she assessed, and not by a small amount of time. He managed a bright, friendly smile without showing his teeth. And he was, in fact, just a little bit taller than her, as Tiffany had promised.

Not bad at all, she thought.

Holy shit, he thought.

Brian spread his arms wide and leaned in for a friendly hug just as Aurora reached out to offer the handshake she had perfected over so many thousands of depositions, pre-trial hearings, courtroom meetings and business dinners with clients. Brian came up short with a comical suddenness, and Aurora felt her eyes involuntarily grow wide as she jerked her hand back.

They both chuckled nervously, and Brian broke the stalemate by offering his hand across the table. Aurora took it gratefully, and Brian, used to the glad handing of powerful people trying to charm him, noted the careful, well-practiced strength of Aurora's grip - firm, but not crushing, confident, but not domineering.

"We're off to a good start, aren't we?" Brian said as they both settled into the dark red leather of the booth. Aurora laughed, and Brian found himself rather taken by the sweet, high-pitched trill of her laughter.

"You'll have to excuse me," Aurora said, picking up the drink menu. "More meetings than dates for me recently."

"Well, I managed to wear matching socks tonight, so I'm basically playing with house money," Brian said.

Aurora's gray eyes flashed with humor as she glanced at him over the top of the intimidatingly tall drink menu. It covered everything on her face below her eyes, but he thought she was smiling.

"I do like your blazer, by the way," she said, a slightly teasing tone to her voice. "It looks good on you. It has a real start-up-founder-dressing-up-to-ask-people-for-money vibe."

Brian offered a self-effacing grin.

"That's the look I was going for," he said. "I wouldn't want to give anyone the mistaken impression that I possessed any actual class or style."

"Well, mission accomplished."

Brian laughed, and Aurora noticed the unrestrained and un-self-conscious sound of his laughter.

"Actually, the male half of the dynamic duo that set us up made me buy it a year or two back," he said, his eyes distractedly skimming his own drink menu. "There was a big court case I had to cover, and Kevin basically browbeat me into dressing like an adult when I went to court."

"Anything I would have -- "

"Good evening folks, and welcome to Poseidon," a peppy, high-pitched voice interrupted them from the side of the table. Brian and Aurora both started a little - they hadn't even noticed the small blond hostess sneak up on them.

"My name is Roxanne and I'll be serving you tonight," she said, gracing them with another of her megawatt smiles. "I do want to apologize in advance - we're a little short-staffed tonight, so the hostesses have been pressed into service as waiters. But I'm going to do everything I can to ensure you have an outstanding dining experience."

I'm guessing they gave all of the waiters that little speech to memorize, Aurora thought.

"Can I get you started with any drinks tonight?"

Aurora frowned and furrowed her brow as she studied the drink menu with greater intensity.

"Yeah, I was thinking about a glass of wine, but I'm not quite sure what I want. Any recommendations?"

A brief wave of confusion swept over Roxanne's open, pleasingly round face, but she recovered quickly with a pained, sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, but I haven't had the chance to get a lesson on our wine list," she said, her voice exuding sincere contrition. "I'm happy to go back to the kitchen and check with our staff to get you a recommendation?"

"Oh, please, no, that's way too much trouble -"

"They have a Domaine de Marcoux Chateauneuf-du-Pape Vieilles Vignes that sounds lovely," Brian said, his voice skipping through the French with practiced smoothness. "Grenache wines pair pretty well with seafood, though white is usually the go-to option there."

There was a moment of stunned silence as the two women stared at Brian with open shock. Then Aurora grinned and offered a "sure, why not" head tilt.

"I'm sold," she said to Roxanne. "I'll take a glass."

Roxanne scribbled onto a small notepad and looked over at Brian with a smile.

"And the same for you, sir?"

"No, thanks," he said. "I'll just have a glass of water."

Their waitress nodded, turned on her heel and left. Aurora picked up her menu, glanced at it a moment, then set it aside and looked over at Brian with a smile on her face. She arched her eyebrows in an expression of incredulity.

"OK, you don't have to look that surprised," Brian said with a laugh. "I spent a few months bumming around French wine country after grad school. Became a little hobby of mine for a while, though I can't really afford the good stuff these days. If that's OK with you, of course?"

"Sure," she said, the teasing tone back to in her voice. "You just don't really think of reporters as being wine experts, you know?"

"And product liability lawyers are famous for their culture and sophistication?"

Man, way too harsh, he thought.

But Aurora just laughed and brushed a strand of red hair off her forehead.

"I take the point," she said. "Unless you have a recommendation for a wine that pairs well with a hot dog from the cart outside the courthouse."

"I'm afraid some meals can't be salvaged," he said, smiling.

Aurora winked, and Brian had to suppress a little shiver that threatened to run through his body. She picked up the menu and glanced at it with mild interest.

"So do you write for the Times? Tiffany told me but things just slip right through my head these days."

"I actually work for the Seattle Argus," Brian said, scanning the menu.

He looked up to see Aurora nodding with polite blankness. He couldn't stop himself from smiling again.

"That total lack of recognition on your face is absolutely the appropriate reaction," he said, laying down his menu. "We're a smaller paper. Well, not 'smaller,' I guess - just small, period. Kind of an alt-daily, you might call us."

"Got it," she said, studying the menu again. "I have to say, and no offense because I'm sure you're great at your job, I have not had a great history with reporters. Can't say I have a high opinion of them."

Brian cocked his head to the side and gave her a curious look.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Aurora nodded down at the menu, seemingly satisfied, and set it aside. She turned back to Brian and gave him a somewhat pained smile.

"My firm had a case a couple years back that got some national media attention. A reporter for one of the big publications got her teeth into it and wouldn't let go. Behaved really unprofessionally, made our lives miserable while we were trying to do our jobs."

Brian looked thoughtful, and his eyes glanced at the ceiling. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Big case in Seattle... was that the faulty road construction? Bus full of people got into an accident in one of the tunnels, dozens of people were hurt? There was a suit against the company that designed and built the road?"

"That's the one, yeah," she said. "I wasn't on the team - not my area. But it was a huge deal at the firm."

"How did the reporter annoy you guys? Were her stories inaccurate? Get the facts wrong?"

"No, her stories were mostly accurate," Aurora said. "Got a few of the smaller details wrong occasionally, but it was a complicated case, and she was right on the big stuff. She just wouldn't leave anyone alone. Kept bothering our client, calling him, e-mailing him, showing up at his office. She even showed up at his house one night. We reached out to her and communicated that our client wasn't going to say anything to a reporter during a trial, so she started doing the same to us. Calling us, demanding comment on some new development, sending us long lists of questions we could never answer. She absolutely tortured our poor receptionists. Just wildly unprofessional behavior."

Brian was looking at her with curiosity, but with no trace of the "Oh, I'm sorry, it's terrible how bad reporters ruin it for the rest of us" sympathy she was expecting.

"Honestly, it sounds like she was just doing her job."

Interesting, she thought.

"You don't think all of that sounds way over-the-top?" Aurora asked incredulously. "Bordering on harassment?"

"Think of it like this," Brian said. "Imagine you're back in college and you told your friends that you just got an 87 on your calculus test. And one of your friends says, 'Wait, how was that possible? I never saw you study. When did you study? Did you cram? Who were you sitting next to during the test? Aren't you famously terrible at math? Haven't you told us time and time again that you can't even calculate a tip and you just got an 87 on a calculus test? Can we see the test? Can we talk to your professor? Why can't we see the test or talk to the professor? And isn't the bigger issue that you think an 87 is a great result even though you should be aiming higher?'"

"That person sounds like a massive asshole and I'd never want to talk to them again."

"Right, exactly, but even though that's terrible behavior from a friend, it's exactly how a journalist is supposed to act. They're supposed to be annoying. Pissing off powerful people is how you know you're doing your job."

"But it was a waste of everyone's time," Aurora said. "No lawyer is going to let a client talk to the press during a trial, and no lawyer is going to answer a bunch of potentially incriminating questions on behalf of their client. We had a case to win."

"And I'm sure she knew that," Brian said, taking a sip of his water. "But she has to ask you for comment - it's her ethical responsibility."

"It's her ethical responsibility to get a 'no comment?'" Aurora's tone was incredulous again.

"It absolutely is," he said firmly.

"And going to the client's house at dinner time? Ringing his doorbell and demanding an interview while she stood in his doorway?"

Brian shrugged.

"Not ideal, but if he was dodging her calls and e-mails, if he wouldn't talk to her at his office, then yeah, she had to knock on his door."

He's not backing down on this, is he?

Aurora opened her mouth to protest, but Roxanne chose that moment to slip in and lay a glass of wine in front of her. She also gently placed a basket of bread in the middle of the table - it was covered with a white cloth napkin and radiated a pleasant warmth. Roxanne offered a polite smile and slipped away again.

Aurora took a sip of her wine and felt her eyes grow wide. Holy shit -- that is a great glass of wine. She was going to share the thought and give her thanks to the man who recommended it when she noticed Brian devouring a piece of bread - she hadn't even seen him take it from the basket. He tore a piece off, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed rapidly, then repeated the process. He was polite about it, but there was no doubt he was eating with impressive speed. And the moment he finished the first piece he was reaching toward the basket for a second.

She studied him a bit as she sipped her wine and he devoured their bread. She had clocked his fingers when they had shaken hands - long and thin, graceful, attractive, but she was noticing now just how thin they really were. His nice blazer now seemed a size too big for him and seemingly swallowed his shoulders. She had been distracted by the lovely dark of his hazel eyes earlier, but now she noticed the rather distinctive hollow of his cheeks. And she remembered that his belt was cinched quite tightly across his waist - it occurred to her now that might be more of a necessity than a style choice.

This is a man who skips some meals. And no wonder - he's a newspaper reporter for a tiny paper you've never heard of. It's Seattle - every cent he makes must go to rent. And you invited him to one of the most expensive seafood places in town. Impressive display of obliviousness, Aurora. Well done.

Brian was, for his part, entirely oblivious to Aurora's silent self-flagellation. He snatched a third piece of bread from the basket and set it down on the small plate in front of him.

"So, what about you? How do you like being a product liability lawyer?"

Aurora blinked and looked at him blankly, as though he had just startled her from a daydream.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your job - how do you like it? Do you enjoy being a lawyer?"

"Oh, yeah, it's the best fucking job in the world," she said without a trace of irony. "It's amazing. I love it. Wouldn't trade it for anything."

Brian smiled at her with wide, surprised eyes. Aurora felt herself melt a little as they fixed on her. Oh, this one's dangerous.

"I was expecting maybe a little more... ambivalence, but yeah, that's wonderful," Brian said. "Not a lot of people talk that way about their jobs. Working on anything interesting?"

"I actually can't talk about it," she said, rubbing the back of her neck and offering a pained, embarrassed smile. "I'm not... you know, this isn't a power thing, I'm not bragging or trying to make myself... I just really can't talk about what I'm working on right now."

Brian's smile was kind, understanding and more than a little sly.

"Especially not to a reporter," he said. Aurora nodded, a little blush appearing on her cheeks.

"And are we ready to order?" Roxanne's lilting voice caused both of them to nearly jump out of their seats. The small blond waitress was standing at the side of the table, smiling patiently. Aurora drained the last of her wine.

"Jesus Christ, how are you so quiet?" She said, looking to Brian for support. "Do you dress up as a bat at night and fight crime?"

"I'm far too busy here," Roxanne said matter-of-factly. "I can come back, if you're not ready?"

"No, no, it's fine, I think we're good," Aurora said, shaking her head and picking up her discarded menu. "Can I just have the pan-seared halibut, please? And another glass of this wine when you get the chance - it's really incredible."

"Of course, ma'am," Roxanne said, scribbling down the order on a small notepad and taking Aurora's menu. "And you, sir?"

"I'll just have the honey-glazed salmon salad."

The waitress nodded silently, took Brian's menu, smiled at the table and slipped away. Aurora watched her go with a look of baffled curiosity, then shook her head and turned back to her date.

Brian and Aurora looked at each other for a moment, the silence between them heavy but not unpleasant. Brian searched his head for something to say, some new conversational topic, and to his utter horror he discovered he had nothing - Good god, man, they haven't even brought dinner yet and you're already drawing blanks? He became intensely aware of just how dry and scratchy his throat felt, and he took a sip of water, hoping to kill time until his mind could reboot.

"Oh, hey, I meant to say - sorry we had to do this so late," Aurora said, and a sense of relief blew through Brian like a calming autumn breeze. "And thanks for being so flexible about it. It's hard to get away from the office right now, so finding a little a bit of time to have a nice dinner with a nice man... well, like I said - I appreciate it."

Brian smiled, and felt the blush rise in his cheeks.

"Hey, no, entirely my pleasure," he said, wincing a little internally at how disingenuous he sounded to himself. "There are things worth making time for."

Aurora smiled and glanced down at the table, brushing another strand of hair off her face. Brian noticed for the first time how closely her lipstick matched the color of her hair.

"But yeah, I can certainly imagine the hours you work, especially if you're on something that's so secret you can't even talk about it," Brian said. Aurora winked at him, and he felt his heart flutter just a bit. "That's why you haven't been able to do the dating thing that much? Work?"

"Uh... mostly, yeah," she said, sounding less-than-confident for the first time all night. "Some other stuff, too, I guess, but the job makes it tough."

"Other stuff?" Brian asked, his curiosity piqued. Aurora rolled her eyes, but not unkindly.

"Nothing we need to talk about right now," she said. "That's a second-glass-of-wine conversation. Maybe even a third-glass-of-wine one."

Roxanne appeared, as if summoned, and placed a second glass of wine in front of Aurora. She shook her head, chuckled, gracefully picked up the glass by its stem and tipped it slightly in Brian's direction. He inclined his head in response. She took a sip and closed her eyes with pleasure.

"I don't know," she said, the words coming slowly. "Maybe it's an effort thing on my part. I guess I just spend so much time at the office, in courtrooms, judge's chambers, conference rooms at other law firms... I mainly meet other lawyers, and that's just...." She shuddered in a deliberately theatrical, horror movie gesture.

"You don't date other lawyers?"

"I don't have a hard-and-fast rule or anything," she said. "I've done it before. The thing is, at this level of the law, you have to be good at your job, sure. You have to be a good lawyer. But to be really successful at these sorts of firms, the most important skill you can possess is the ability to manage upwards. The people I meet on this job, they're very good at massaging the egos of their managing partners, navigating office politics, climbing the ladder. And those are useful skills, but they tend to make for pretty boring people, you know? They aren't attractive traits in a partner, I guess is what I'm saying."

Brian nodded with understanding.

"Sure, I get it," he said. "You know, not to brag, but the other day I made my boss so mad he tried to kill me in the office."

Aurora laughed and held her hand over heart like a vexed southern damsel.

"Oh, my," she said, adopting a theatrically breathy tone of voice. "How rogue-ish of you. Were you in the right, at least?"

"I was, as a matter of fact," he said, smiling. "I stood up for truth, justice and the American way in the face of corruption and avarice."

Roxanne and another waiter appeared with their food before Aurora could respond. Aurora and Brian made the appropriate and expected noises of approval over their food. The other waiter slipped away into the dining room, and Roxanne stood alone by the table, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Please enjoy your meals," she said. "And is there anything else I can get you at this point?"

Aurora glanced down at her suddenly empty wine glass. Huh. I wonder how that happened.

"Actually, can I get another glass of this wine? I can't seem to get enough of it."

"Of course, ma'am. And you, sir?"

Brian just smiled politely and shook his head. Aurora held her hands out toward Brian in a beseeching gesture.

"Come on man, get a glass of the wine," she said, pleading. "You chose it! And you can't leave me out here on a third glass of wine while you're drinking water. I'll look like a lush. Don't make your date look like a lush."

The waitress was looking down at him patiently, but expectantly. Brian glanced over at Aurora and her gray eyes were staring at him with a half-ironic, half-sincere intensity. Brian threw up his hands in surrender.

"Sure, sounds good - a glass of the same."

Roxanne smiled, nodded and walked briskly away. Aurora shot him a double thumbs-up gesture of such childish earnestness that Brian couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Congratulations on deciding to join the party," she said teasingly. "You should get to enjoy the fruits of your recommendations, after all. Reward for a service well-rendered."

"I appreciate that," Brian said, chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair. "What can I say - it's hard for me to say no to a beautiful woman. It's a weakness. One of many, I'm afraid."

Brian took a bite of his salad as Aurora studied him with open curiosity.

"So... France, huh? Just bummed around wine country, getting drunk?"

"I mean, at the time I sort of framed it in more highfalutin terms, but... that was the gist of it, sure," he said, smiling a little at the memories that came flashing back. "I guess I learned some things too."

"You certainly did," Aurora said, nodding. "Where in France did you go?"

"I hit most of the major wine regions," he said. "Bordeaux, the Loire valley, Provence, the Rhone - that's where I learned about the Grenache blends, actually."

Roxanne sidled up to their table again, this time bearing two glasses of wine. She placed one in front of Aurora and another in front of Brian, smiled professionally, and slipped away. Brian became vaguely aware of the quiet in the room. The usual hustle and bustle you heard in a restaurant even on a slow day -- the clinking of glasses, the chatter of customers, dishes being picked up and set down - it was all missing. It was as though there was a bubble around their table, and he and Aurora were sitting in a swirling, confusing, arousing atmosphere that left him pleasingly light-headed.

Aurora held out her glass. Brian reached out with his and they tapped the edges together with a gentle, pleasing clink. Brian took a sip and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him - he was remembering an autumn day outside Avignon, the first real chilly day of the season, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of grapes across a vineyard, red and orange leaves brilliant in the bright autumnal sun... and a local woman named Helene, a bottle of wine between them, just a year or two older than him, a classics student at the university in the city, jet black hair and an "SPQR" tattoo on the inside of her wrist, purple lipstick, a forceful kisser....

Here and now, buddy, he gently chided himself. Here and now.

He smiled at and through his reverie and Aurora, who had just taken a somewhat larger sip from her glass, rewarded him with a smile of her own.

"Not to give you a big head or anything, but man, this really is incredible," she said, slicing off a bit of her halibut and chewing it thoughtfully. "And you weren't wrong - pairs great with the fish. No lie, man, I'm impressed."

"Glad I haven't wasted one of your rare nights off," he said, smiling, the white of his teeth standing out sharply against the red of the blush that had risen unbidden to his cheeks. "I'll try not to ruin the vibe by mentioning my Nazi sex dungeon."

"I don't know," she said, giving him a heavy, hungry look. "I rather like a couple of those words."

Brian nodded carefully and thought for an eternal second as to what he should say next. It felt like a crucial moment, a moment weighted with meaning and potential, and he knew it was vital to find the right words so as not to squander it. He mulled over exactly how to respond and which words to use in that response.

"Oh yeah?"

Oh, very smooth, he thought. Just fantastic work.

But if Aurora was disappointed, she didn't show it. She just nodded and swirled the wine in her glass. She glanced down into the swirling purple liquid with a curious look Brian couldn't quite identify.

"Yep, absolutely," she said. "Actually, you remember earlier, when I said work wasn't the only reason I didn't date that much? This is the other reason."

"The word you liked wasn't 'Nazi,' was it?"

"Nein," she said, smiling. "I'm a rather kinky sort, is what I mean. Strongly so, in fact."

Oh... well then, he thought.

"And that's been a problem for you?" He asked in an unambiguously skeptical tone of voice.

"Yeah, actually, it has," Aurora said. "The thing is, kinky people... they kind of like categories. Labels. Certain irony to that, of course, but that's OK - we're all a little hypocritical. But I don't necessarily fall into one of the neat little categories, and that can freak some people out a bit."

Silence could be a reporter's best friend, an editor had once told Brian - keep your mouth shut, let the person speak, and they might say something you'll want to hear. So he simply nodded, took a bite of his salad and gave Aurora an open, curious, sympathetic look.

"I'm very switchy," she said after a pause that seemed to stretch across the length of Poseidon's dining room. "And a lot of people are, I know, but I'm... I'm pretty much 50/50 in what I enjoy. I love both sides, and I'm not really satisfied giving up either one. And that can be tough for people to deal with it."

I think you'll actually have to talk now, Brian thought.

"You being a switch - that's scared people away?" He asked. "It's too much for them to handle?"

Aurora shrugged and drained the last of her wine.

"Not initially," she said. "Not usually. Oh, I get the occasional sub who says they can't submit to someone who isn't 100-percent dominant 100-percent of the time - they can't be submissive to someone who has submitted themselves."

"Seems pretty silly," Brian said. "That time as a sub probably makes you a better domme."

"My point as well," Aurora said, smiling with the happiness of someone who just heard another person articulate one of her more deeply held beliefs. "It hasn't been very persuasive, though, and that's fine - kinks don't have to be strictly logical or rational.

"But like I said, that's pretty rare. A lot of people tell me it's not a problem for them, but they don't really understand how much I like going back and forth. Submissives just want to submit to me, and I love topping them, but eventually...."

"Eventually you want to get thrown around a little bit."

"Precisely," she said, nodding with great force. "And then there are the doms, and I love submitting to them, but at some point I inevitably want to tie them up and sit on their faces, and heaven for-fucking-fend a big tough dom ever submit to anyone.

"I've tried doing just one role before - just being a domme when I was dating a sub, vice versa, and it never works for me. Literally never. I just love the power switch so much, you know? That fluid dynamic, going back and forth, a dom being reduced to a sub, a sub rising up and seizing control... it's all so fucking hot. Just irresistible to me. And the thing is, the longer the power sits on one side, the more one person in the dynamic seems to possess complete control, the more I want the dynamic to change."

Brian took a long sip of his wine, and he couldn't stop his hand from shaking as he set the glass down. Aurora noticed, and responded with a big, radiant smile that seemed to show every one of her perfect teeth and reminded Brian of nothing so much as a tiger's grin.

"There are other switches, right?" Brian managed to keep his voice steady.

"Yeah, absolutely," she said. "But most switches do have some preference, one way or the other. And even the ones who don't aren't usually as comfortable as I am with switching in the middle of a scene - they can't flip head spaces like that, and flipping the head space is kind of what I live for. So that leaves a really small handful of people who are as... weird as I am. And those relationships didn't work because... well, because of any of the million non-kink-related reasons a relationship might fail."

Brian and Aurora stared at each other across the table. Aurora took a sip of water but never took her eyes off Brian. There was an intense, almost imploring look in her stormy gray eyes, and Brian felt as though he could hear a faint buzzing in the air between them.

She put her cards on the table. Only fair to share your own.

"I... I share your affliction, as it happens," he said, wincing again at what seemed to him to be the overly arch and intellectual tone of his comment.

But Aurora smiled and leaned forward eagerly.

"Do you now?"

"I do, actually," he said, smiling a little. "Everything you said... I'm with you. I feel the same way. It's the stuff of old Greek drama - the high man brought low and all that. It's compelling stuff. I could have said exactly the same thing, just not as eloquently and with a much less alluring voice."

Roxanne happened to be walking by their table at that exact moment, and Aurora's hand shot up with the eagerness of a schoolgirl who was very confident she knew the answer to the teacher's question.

"Can we have our check, please?"

"Of course," Roxanne said, reaching into the black apron she wore in top of her clean white shirt. "I have it right here."

She laid the check on the table, exactly equidistant between Brian and Aurora, smiled, and walked away. Aurora and Brian looked down at the check at the same moment.

Holy shit, he thought. How did we spend $300?

Holy shit, she thought. How did we spend $300?

Brian began doing quick-and-dirty math in his head. He had his Visa in his wallet, and he had just made a payment on it, so there was room on it for the meal. The power bill was due in a few days, but he had just enough in his checking account to cover that. Rent wasn't due for another few weeks, so no need to worry about that. Food was going to be tough until he got paid next week, but there were a couple events he could cover where they provided free food -

You need to pay for this, Aurora thought. You chose the restaurant. You know you make a lot more money than he does. What's the point of all those long nights at the office if you're not going to pay for things like this?

You know how men are, she argued back at herself. You'll humiliate him and ruin things, and you really like this guy. You can get the next one.

You're about to bring this guy back to your place, she rejoined. If you're worried that he's going to get pissy about you paying the check, maybe he's not the kind of guy you should be doing that with?

Brian reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"Hey, let's split this, OK?" Aurora said quickly. "I suggested the place - it just seems fair."

Brian felt a gust of relief blow through him. He might actually be able to buy food next week. Don't show how relieved you are, he thought.

"You sure? I'm happy to pick it up."

Aurora waved her hand dismissively, then pulled out her purse.

"Oh, please, I'm happy to go halfsies," she said, cringing a little internally at the last word. "It feels right."

Brian smiled and nodded, and the two of them placed their cards on the check. Roxanne was walking by, and she stopped and scooped up the small pile before disappearing into the back of the nearly deserted restaurant.

They didn't speak while they waited for the waitress to return. They sat in silence, staring at each other with undisguised hunger, feeling the weight of potential and possibility heavy on their shoulders.

Roxanne was back quickly, and she laid two receipts on the table, one in front of Aurora, one in front of Brian. She stepped back and graced them with her biggest, brightest smile of the night.

"Thank you so much for dining with us tonight," she said, her voice light and chipper. "And on a personal note, thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoyed your meal, and please come back soon."

She inclined her head toward the table, then turned and walked away. Brian and Aurora hastily signed their receipts, grabbed their cards and stood up from the table.

They walked together the short distance from their booth to the now-deserted hostess stand. There was a small glass bowl of mints on the stand - Aurora reached in and grabbed two without breaking stride. She turned back to Brian and tossed him one of the mints in a gentle underhand fashion as she smoothly pushed through the revolving door.

It was chilly outside and humid, and there were a handful of small puddles on the deserted streets and sidewalks. It had rained a little while they were having dinner. Neither of them had noticed.

Aurora stood under a street lamp, her sharp face illuminated with surprising gentleness by the light above her. She smiled at Brian.

"So, if you'll forgive the cliché - your place or mine?"

"Well... where's your place?"

Aurora gestured down the street in a generally northern direction.

"My condo isn't far from here," she said. "Up on Olive. What about you?"

"I share a two-bedroom apartment with three other people in Ballard."

Aurora nodded calmly and without judgement.

"So... my place, then?"

***

They hopped out of the Uber with a fair bit of excess energy, and Brian cringed a little as he accidentally slammed the door with more force than he intended. Aurora gave the driver a little wave as he pulled away, and then she started walking toward her building without waiting for Brian.

Aurora's building was tall - Brian thought somewhere between 25 and 30 stories. It was sleek and modern, clearly new construction, all glass and steel. On every second or third floor on the entrance side of the building were large terraces hemmed in by metal railings - they were light and graceful, made to look like twisting vines and tree branches, and even from three floors down Brian could see the level of detail on the metal work.

The walkway from the street to the entrance was paved with impeccable white granite tiles, and their shoes made gentle clapping sounds in the otherwise quiet night as Brian and Aurora walked briskly up to the glass entrance door. Aurora pulled her keys out of her purse and pressed a fob against a small gray box set near the door. There was a gentle click, and Aurora pulled open the door without breaking stride.

The lobby was small, but spotlessly clean, with a high, soaring ceiling. There were a couple of small leather couches sitting on a tasteful gray carpet off to the left, a large flat-screen TV quiet and black on the near wall.

On their right was a long glass desk, monitored by a gray-haired man in an incongruously old-fashioned blue doorman's uniform. There were shiny brass buttons running down the middle of the uniform and at the end of the sleeves, and he wore a matching blue Pershing hat. There were bright golden epaulettes on his shoulder.

"Good evening, Ms. Shea," the old man said with a large, guileless smile that exuded good will.

"Good evening, Walter," Aurora said, without breaking stride. "Though I guess it's probably morning at this point."

"Right you are, Ms. Shea," Walter said.

Brian caught up to Aurora and fell in stride beside her.

"The epaulettes are a bit much, aren't they?" He asked in a whisper, looking back over his shoulder to make sure the doorman hadn't heard him.

"A point I have made many times, I promise," Aurora said as they reached the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. "Condo board loves the uniform, though. Wouldn't possibly change so much as a stitch of it."

The elevator was waiting for them when Aurora pressed the button, and they stepped into a large, comfortable, carpeted space that smelled like pine and careful maintenance.

Brian saw buttons for 28 floors on the wall. Aurora pressed "27," and the elevator doors closed with a quick, quiet efficiency.

"Only the 27th floor, huh?" Brian asked, a teasing tone to his voice. "Couldn't get the top floor? Not quite fancy enough?"

The smile Aurora gave him was large and unapologetically hungry. Her eyes flashed with passion.

"Do you have a safe word you like?"

"Uh, no, not really," Brian said, caught off-guard. "I'm generally good with the traffic light system - green-yellow-red."

Aurora nodded, and Brian noticed she was rapidly tapping one foot on the elevator's carpet.

"Yeah, me too," she said, looking up at the bright electronic floor indicator over the door. "We can keep it simple."

Brian found himself smiling without meaning to, as though the muscles in his face had wills of their own. Aurora glanced over at him and gave him a curious look.

"Why do you look so goofy?"

Brian chuckled and looked her in the eyes.

"I was just... I was thinking of The Odyssey," Brian said, feeling the ridiculousness of his words even as they tumbled out of his mouth. "'Grey-eyed Athena slowed the night when the night was most profound, and held the Dawn under the Ocean of the East.'"

Aurora smirked and seemed about to respond when there was a gentle ding and the elevator stopped. The doors opened out onto a wide, expansive hallway, sleek silver sconces set at even intervals on both walls.

Aurora led them to a brushed nickel door not far from the elevator, the numbers "2703" standing out in stark black at eye level. Brian felt his heart thumping hard in his chest as they approached and she slid a key into the lock. Aurora pushed the door open and made a big, sweeping, "come one, come all" carnival barker gesture with her arms.

"Classics nerds first," she said, not unkindly. Brian smiled and stepped inside.

The lights were off inside the apartment, but it wasn't dark. Brian caught a brief glimpse of a massive floor to ceiling window on the far side of the room, curtains thrown open, and the stars of the night sky and the twinkling lights of the Seattle skyline shone through and provided a dim illumination. Brian saw a massive living room and the shadows of Aurora's furniture, and then strong hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back-first into the wall.

Her lips were on his before he could so much as take a shocked breath, and then Aurora was consuming him, stealing his air, her breath tasting like good wine and the restaurant's mints, her hands flying over his body, getting between his jacket and his shirt, and then they were pulling off the jacket and flinging it away, and she had one hand buried in his hair and the other raking down his chest with her nails, her teeth were biting his lower lip, pulling it out, and then his hands were on her body, exploring, finding full, shapely breasts and nipples hard in the cool air of the apartment under the thin material of her dress, and his right hand drifted lower as she covered his neck with kisses and harsh, playful bites that sent waves of pain and pleasure through his nerve endings, his fingers slid between her legs, found the waistband of the thin underwear she was wearing and slipped beneath it, and her dress was bunched up around her thighs, and his fingers slid under the material of her panties and found her pussy soaking wet, ever-so-briefly brushing her clit, and Aurora gasped loudly into Brian's neck.

She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him deeply. His hands crept up her body and cupped her face, his long fingers resting lightly on the pale skin of her cheeks. Then Aurora stepped back, gave Brian a last, appraising, appreciative look, placed both hands on his shoulders and pushed him backward.

He stumbled in surprise, trying to keep his footing. But the smooth soles of his only decent pair of dress shoes betrayed him on Aurora's shining hardwood floors, and his feet went out from under him, dumping him gently onto his ass. His momentum kept him sliding until his back lightly struck a column in the vast space between Aurora's door and the window on the far side of the room, and he came to a stop, his breath catching in his throat.

It stayed there as Aurora slowly strode toward him, slipping off her shoes with a slight, subtle shake of her feet, her stride practiced and seductive as she moved toward him by crossing one leg in front of the other.

She reached behind her back without slowing her stride and gracefully unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor in a discordantly neat pile, and she stepped over it without looking down.

She stopped a foot or two from where Brian sat, his back hard against the beige column, and he finally allowed himself to breathe. Moonlight shone through the massive window behind them and gave her red hair a soft, gentle hue.

Aurora wore a simple black bra and plain white panties that nearly matched the pale tone of her skin. Brian drank in the sight of her eagerly, greedily, his eyes roaming over her body, spying the well-toned muscles of her legs (College athlete? Volleyball?), the gentle sway of her hips, a small mole just to the right of her belly button, everything, all the details he desperately tried to record as he found himself idly wishing he had his reporter's notebook and a pen.

Then she was standing over him, her feet on either side of his legs, and she had a firm grip on his hair. She pulled his head back and he found himself staring into the stormy gray of her eyes. Her smile was broad and wolfish.

"Time to see what you can do," she said, her free hand slipping underneath the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs with her accustomed smoothness.

There was a small tuft of carefully trimmed copper hair right above her pussy. Her lips glistened with arousal, and Brian could smell the sharp, intoxicating scent of her. He opened his mouth to say something, but without a word of warning she pulled his face between her legs and clamped her thighs down on his head in an ever-so-brief demonstration of her strength.

"No, no, no," she said, running her hands through the increasingly unruly mass of his thick black hair. "I think you've talked more than enough tonight, don't you?"

Brian nodded as best he could with his head trapped between her legs, and Aurora felt the first pang of pleasure as his tongue brushed against one of her lips.

"Good boy," she said, sighing.

His tongue attacked her pussy with more enthusiasm than precision. She felt him exploring her recklessly, the tip of his tongue flitting around with no plan or pattern. He went up and down her slit, then side to side, then 'round and 'round in a circular motion near but not quite on her clit. There was a dull sense of pleasure, and the occasional jolt of something more intense, but the feelings were unfocused and could never quite cohere.

Brian felt the strain in his neck from the unusual angle, his head tilted almost straight up between Aurora's thighs. He tried to steal a breath where he could. He listened to the sounds Aurora was making and registered that they were rare and quiet when he could hear them. He tried to lick harder, faster, tried to find a pleasurable point, but the sensation overload of the moment - Aurora's smell, her taste, the cramped quarters and flashes of vision, his intense awareness of the possibility that he was failing her - made it impossible.

Stop fucking this up, man. Do your job.

I really thought he'd be better at -

Then the flat of Brian's tongue struck a spot slightly below Aurora's clit, and there was an electric surge through her body. She yelped in surprise, then let a long, loud, husky moan escape her throat. Brian's eyes widened between her legs, then narrowed as he registered the sounds.

Found it.

He reached up and grasped her hips, his long fingers taking a firm grip as he shoved his face up and in, ignoring the barking pain in his neck. He bored in on The Spot, his tongue flicking and brushing it, first the tip of the tongue, then the flat of it, fast, then slow, up and down, side to side.

Aurora felt herself battered by the sensations, thrown around on a tide of her own pleasure. Waves of nervous energy pulsed up and down her body, and the fingers she had twined in Brian's hair tightened and relaxed their grip at random, with no input from her.

Then she felt the sudden rise of a cold fire between her legs, and without consciously thinking of the words she shouted, "Yes! Right there! Right fucking there! Do it!"

Brian gave one last burst of effort, his lungs calling out for air in a plea he ignored, going harder and faster than he thought possible. There was a brief, tense moment of silence when Aurora's moans ceased and she went quiet, and for a second Brian thought he had lost her again.

Then her thighs squeezed his soaking, flushed face like a clamp, and her fingers yanked at his hair, and she made a rapid series of deep, throaty, almost guttural moans, so loud they rang in Brian's pinned and covered ears. Aurora felt the cold energy of her orgasm explode inside her and spread through her body.

Then, with a loud, contented, pleasurable sigh, she relaxed her legs and released Brian's hair. He collapsed backward, gasping for breath and as he settled back on his heels. He looked up at Aurora's sweaty, flushed face, red enough that it almost matched her tangled, tousled hair, her hooded eyes gazing down at him, a slight smirk on her face as she tried to catch her breath, and he decided it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

There was a full minute where neither of them talked, the only noise in the apartment their desperate breathing. Then Aurora broke the silence.

"Get up and kiss me."

Brian sprang to his feet, ignoring the angry protests from aging knees that hadn't been asked to engage in such sudden movement since his days as the backup catcher on his high school baseball team. Then his hand was on the back of Aurora's head, and he pulled her in, and they were kissing again.

For a moment they stood, rooted in that spot, the moonlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the room, illuminating them as they kissed. Then Aurora grabbed Brian's collar and began pulling him forward.

She never broke the kiss, her free hand running through his hair, her lips and tongue tasting him with passionate intensity. But she smoothly led him through her living room, subtly tugging on his collar to direct them around bits of furniture. Her backward stride was quick but unhurried, smooth, adept, and Brian felt himself growing hard against her as she choreographed their little dance.

And then they were in her bedroom. Brian had a moment to recognize that it was almost the size of his entire apartment and to catch a glimpse of the view through the massive window on the far wall, and then Aurora was pulling him onto her bed.

Brian briefly cherished the cool softness of Aurora's sheets on his skin and then she was tearing at his shirt. He only vaguely noticed the third button from the top snapping off and flying across the bedroom because Aurora's nails were raking down his skin as they unbuttoned his shirt. He tore it off and tossed it to the side and pulled her to him for a kiss.

Aurora dug her fingernails into the soft skin near his collar bone and drew them down his chest, leaving bright red furrows in his skin that Brian would see in the mirror for the next week. He yelped as Aurora's nails passed over his nipples, and Aurora laughed, a sound gleeful and dark and hopelessly arousing.

Brian smirked down at her, grabbed both her shoulders and shoved her hard, a set of tasteful gray pillows at the top of the bed bouncing gently into the air as Aurora's body struck the mattress. Aurora brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Now that wasn't very nice at all, was it?" Brian said.

"Were we going for - oh, fuck...."

Aurora's voice trailed off and turned into a loud moan as Brian slid two fingers into her soaking wet pussy without warning. Her gray eyes rolled back in her head as she flopped bonelessly back on the mattress, and in a few seconds she was gripping the sheets hard enough to turn her fingers white.

Brian's fingers, on the other hand, were pushed deep inside Aurora, and it didn't make more than a few seconds for Aurora to feel the electricity building inside her. His fingers were long and dexterous, and they honed in on The Spot the moment her moans became high-pitched squeals she was embarrassed to hear herself make.

OK, so, better with his fingers than his tongue. Let's make a -

And then all rational thought was gone, blown up in an explosion of pleasure that resonated through her body, scalp to toes. It was like watching someone drop a large rock in a lake and seeing the ripples cut through the water. The sensations exploded outward, then retreated, then exploded again, and Aurora was helpless to do anything but ride the waves of pleasure as they cascaded through her.

Aurora was aware, vaguely, intellectually, that the orgasm didn't last that long - 10 or 15 seconds, maybe, but it seemed like an eternity that her body was thrashing around on its own accord, completely out of her control. As the pleasure finally receded, she became dimly aware that she was giggling, low and quiet, and she couldn't remember the last time she had actually giggled.

Brian slipped his hands under her back once she finally stopped twitching and flipped her onto her stomach without any resistance. Her body was limp and light, and Aurora only barely registered the shift in perspective through the post-orgasm fog in her head.

She sighed contentedly as he pulled her arms behind her back and pinned her wrists against her lower back. There was a gentle sound of fabric rubbing against fabric as Brian pulled his belt off his pants.

Fuck, this feels amazing. I just want to lie here forever. Whatever he wants to do.

Girl, pull yourself together. Don't give it up that easy. Show some damn self-respect and fight back.

Do I have to?

Yes!

She sighed again, this time with reluctance instead of contentment, and she curled one of her long legs around Brian's side. He was so engaged with his belt that he didn't notice.

She yanked forward with her leg, pulling him off-balance and tumbling him down on the mattress beside her. He cried out in surprise, and before he could react she was rolling on top of him, her knees coming down hard on his shoulders, pinning them to the bed. She reached down and slapped him, hard, the cracking sound exploding through the bedroom.

Aurora looked down at him, cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows in an inquiring fashion. Brian swallowed hard.

"Careful," he said, a slight taunting tone to his voice. "Slap me like that again and you might turn my cheek green."

Aurora smirked and looked around the bed, pushing down hard with her knees on Brian's shoulders as she felt him try to wriggle away. Her eyes widened in his triumph as she found his belt half-covered by Brian's back. He yelped a little as she none-too-gently yanked it out from under him.

Brian thrashed as she leaned down with his belt stretched between her hands, but her legs were too strong and kept him pinned firmly to the mattress. His hands flapped about helplessly with his shoulders restrained, and he wasn't able to mount a resistance as she deftly wrapped his belt around his neck, slid the leather tail through the metal tab and pulled it tight.

Brian took a few deep breaths, mostly to prove to himself that he could, and stared straight into Aurora's stormy gray eyes. He felt an icy blade of fear slice up his spine, and he was intensely aware of how hard his cock was throbbing.

"I'm going to take my knees off your shoulders now," Aurora said, her voice as flinty as her eyes. "And when I do, you're going to reach over to into that nightstand, pull out a condom and slide it onto your cock. Do anything else and...."

She punctuated the threat by pulling the tail of Brian's belt up and toward her, and Brian felt his throat constrict under the leather. He hurriedly nodded, eyes wide and pleading, and Aurora loosened her grip on the belt as she slid her knees off his shoulders.

Blood rushed back to his arms as air rushed into his lungs, and Brian had to shake his head to clear away some of the cobwebs. His right arm felt heavy and clumsy as he reached out and found Aurora's nightstand, his eyes never leaving hers. His fingers struck smooth wood, then found the cool metal handle and slid the drawer open. He fumbled around inside the drawer for a second before his fingers were able to grasp a small plastic square and pull it out.

"Pretty big stash you have in there," he said, risking a smile as he hurriedly tore the wrapping off the condom. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering -"

Aurora cut him off by yanking the tail of his belt, and Brian sputtered with shock as he struggled to take in a breath. She slapped him again, not hard, but sharp enough to sting his red and swollen cheek.

"I didn't ask for commentary, bitch."

Brian nodded again, and Aurora loosened the belt. He took in two deep breaths.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, Aurora, really, I didn't mean... I'm sorry. Please don't. I'll be good. I promise."

The whimpering tone of Brian's voice sent a shiver down Aurora's spine, and she reached behind her, found the button of Brian's pants and pulled it free with more force than grace. He wriggled his hips as she unzipped his pants, and she tossed them against the far wall of her bedroom.

He was wearing a pair of black silk boxers, and Aurora enjoyed the feel of the fabric as she ran a finger up the side of his cock. He shuddered with pleasure and she smirked at him.

"Nice underwear," she said, as she grabbed the waistband and pulled them down his legs and he kicked them off. "Someone had high hopes for tonight."

"Well -"

"Not a question," Aurora said, as she nimbly slid off his body. She took a moment to admire his cock - long and smooth, a bit on the thin side, but with a thick head she was already imagining the feel of. She grabbed his cock and squeezed - gently, but with intention. "Now be a good boy and put the condom on."

"Yes, ma'am," Brian said, and Aurora squeezed his cock appreciatively.

Keep your hands steady, man. Really bad time to struggle putting on a condom.

Brian's nerves didn't betray him in his moment of need, and he was able to smoothly slide the slippery latex condom over his hard, throbbing cock, all under Aurora's watchful gray eyes. The ring of the condom tightly squeezed the base of his cock, and Brian could feel his pulse under the pressure.

"Good boy," Aurora said with a wink as she threw one leg over him and straddled his chest. She ran a fingertip down one of the furrows her nails had left in his chest and smiled. "Now, let's get you properly fucked, shall we?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words were swallowed by a loud, gasping moan as Aurora slid down his body and engulfed his cock with her pussy. He slid in easily, her pussy slick with arousal, and her own moan escaped her lips as the head of his cock stretched her wide.

Aurora looked down at Brian, their eyes locking, and they smiled at the same time, both thinking the other looked more than a little goofy.

She rode him slowly at first, her hands resting on his bare chest, her eyes closed as she savored the feeling of his cock inside her. Brian's eyes were wide open, taking in the sight of Aurora - her red hair that matched the flush of her cheeks, the way she bit her lower lip as she fucked him, the stark whiteness of her teeth, the pale skin of her full breasts as they gently bounced with every thrust. He was trying desperately to sketch every bit of the scene in his memory.

Aurora's moans were low, throaty and constant as she controlled the pace - Brian could make out the occasional word, most of them versions of "Fuck" and the names of various deities and their offspring. His hands tightly gripped the curves of her hips, and he tried to keep his breathing steady and his heart rate out of the red.

Aurora felt the pleasure building inside her, but she kept its rise slow as she enjoyed the sensations of the moment. Little prickles of cold ran up her arms, and Brian's fingers were digging into the flesh of her hips with a pleasant fierceness. Her legs were resting on either side of his, and her toes curled up against the cool, smooth fabric of her sheets. There was a warmth in her throat, a soreness she cherished because it came from her vocal orgasms earlier in the night. She could feel a light sweat on her forehead despite the coolness of the evening, and a lock of her hair was plastered to her skin. She ran a hand down her chest and across her nipple and smiled dreamily as a shudder passed through her body.

Then she increased the pace, and the pleasure inside her started to swell with a speed to match. Brian felt the intensity of the moment and matched her pace, thrusting inside her to match the timing of her rocking. Aurora cried out in pleasure, and this time her, "Fuck, I'm so damn close" was clear as a bell.

Her hand flicked across Brian's chest and grabbed his right wrist. She yanked it down between her legs and shoved his fingers against her clit. Brian didn't ask for any instructions, and he flicked at her clit without any technique or subtlety.

Aurora didn't need either. She cried out again as his fingertips roughly massaged her clit, and this time her cries were high-pitched and desperate. She rode him harder, faster, and Brian kept a desperate grip on her hip with his left hand while his right tried to stay attached to her clit.

She screamed then, truly screamed for the first time all night, a long, loud, desperate "YES!" that Brian was sure everyone in the building could hear. In that moment he felt himself let go, and there was a flood of warmth through his body as he came with her, his nerves standing on end as Aurora milked his cock.

She rode him through her orgasm, intent on chasing down every thread of pleasure that snaked through her body. Her hands balled into fists and she gently beat on his chest as the sensations slowly, achingly subsided.

When it was done, when the last of the pleasure had finally retreated, Aurora finally opened her eyes, looked down at the thin man beneath her, sighed in a way that made Brian's heart flutter, and collapsed on top of him, her face hitting his chest with a gentle smack of flesh on flesh.

They laid in silence for a solid minute, their breathing - heavy, rasping, coincidentally synchronized - the only sound in the bedroom. Brian ran his hand through Aurora's hair, enjoying the sweat-slick feel of it, and she purred gently into his chest.

The silence was interrupted by a quiet thwip that caused both of them to look down. The condom was sliding off Brian's slowly deflating cock and threatening Aurora's impeccably clean sheets. Brian and Auroa looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Aurora placed a gentle kiss on Brian's bare chest.

"I should probably...." Brian said with a smile, trailing off as he inclined his head to the side.

"Yeah, probably," Aurora said, chuckling. "You can toss it in the bathroom."

Brian untangled himself from Aurora's long legs and swung himself off the bed, keeping one hand cupped between his legs. He visibly blushed, and both of them laughed again at his slightly ridiculous posture. He disappeared through a doorway on the far side of the bedroom.

Aurora pulled herself up to the top of the bed and let her head flop down on a pillow, enjoying the cool of the fabric against her flushed, warm skin. She pulled the sheet up over her breasts and smiled languidly at the sound of running water in the bathroom as Brian turned on the sink.

He appeared in the doorway again about 30 seconds later, naked but clean, and Aurora admired him through half-closed eyes. His nudity accentuated his height, and she enjoyed the look of his trim - sleek, he looks sleek - body. He was skinny, no doubt, no fat on his bones and not much muscle either, but there was a grace and stability to his posture that she loved.

Brian ambled over to the bed, smiling shyly, and slipped under the sheet next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder and placed a hand possessively on his chest. She could feel his heart beating slowly beneath her palm.

"God, I love the after, don't you?" Brian said, cringing a bit at the childish enthusiasm of his voice.

Aurora looked up at him, nodded a bit, and muttered a low "Mmmhmm."

"Everyone's happy and sticky and pleased and pleased with themselves and you're both kind of sex drunk," Brian said, aware that the words were tumbling uncontrolled from his mouth. "And you're tangled up together and you're kind of disinhibited and saying things you wouldn't normally say because you're flooded with endorphins and -"

"You're rambling, darling," Aurora said with a smile. She gently patted his chest.

Brian grimaced.

"Yeah, you're right, sorry, I didn't mean to."

Aurora chuckled.

"No, it's cute. I just -"

She glanced up at the massive window on the far side of the room. It was covered with heavy gray curtains, but a sliver of dull light sneaked through a gap in the curtains.

"Shit. Is it morning already?"

Brian glanced indifferently over at the window.

"It was the nightingale and not the lark that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear," Brian said in a declamatory tone of voice. "Yon light is not daylight, I know it."

"That's cute, but I have to get ready," Aurora said tersely, rolling out of bed and running her hand through her tousled hair.

"You have to get ready for what?"

"Work."

"It's Saturday."

"Doesn't matter. You can find your clothes, right?"

She stood by the side of the bed looking down at him impatiently. He offered a tight, tense smile.

"Yeah. Absolutely."

She flashed him a quick thumbs up, turned on her heel and strode into the bathroom. Brian sighed and rolled out of bed.

He found his shirt and pants next to the bed, cursing as he slipped the shirt on and noticed the button missing. He stepped into his pants and buttoned them up, then plopped down on the bed in a sitting position. He stared at the floor for a second, his hands in his hair.

Fuck. I really thought this was something.

Look, it was one great night. That's not nothing.

But I want more.

I know, buddy. Come on, let's find your jacket.

Brian stepped into the living room and actually had a moment to take it in, as, for the first time that evening, he didn't have a 6'1 redhead latched on to his lips. It was a massive space, well-appointed with furniture that Brian figured cost more than he made in six months at The Argus. He admired a shining wood, glass and steel coffee table in the middle of the room, a tasteful modernist piece with swooping metal curves at the bottom that looked like they could cause a nasty bruise to any shin reckless enough to approach without proper deference (he gave a silent thanks to Aurora for steering him so smoothly through the space).

There was a kitchen on the far side of the living room, gleaming and spotless enough that Brian figured it didn't get much use. He spied his nice blazer on a heap in the long entrance hallway to the right and picked it up with a grimace. He was brushing off some bits of dust when he heard Aurora's voice from the bedroom, too dull and muffled to make out.

Aurora was standing in the bathroom doorway when he walked in, her red hair tied up in a pony tail. She was wearing a battered purple University of Washington sweatshirt and a pair of dull gray sweatpants. She was so beautiful Brian ached to look at her.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"No, I was in the other room tracking down this guy," Brian said, holding up his coat. "What's up?"

"I asked if you've been to the art museum."

Brian raised an eyebrow.

"You mean SAM? Not for a while. Honestly, my arts and entertainment budget isn't very big these days."

Aurora nodded and twisted at the waist, as though trying to stretch a sore muscle in her back.

"You want to come with me next week? My firm represented them a few years ago and they gave us free passes as a thank you."

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

Calm down, dude.

"The Seattle Art Museum paid you with free admission passes?"

"No, the Seattle Art Museum paid us with a tremendous amount of money. The passes are just a fun perk."

Brian couldn't stop himself from smiling. Aurora looked at him with an expression of bemusement on her face.

"You're asking me on a museum date?"

"Yeah, man. Is that not obvious?"

"No, it's not that, it's just.... Never mind. Yeah, obviously, I'd love to go to the museum. We can walk around with our hands behind our backs, nod pretentiously at the art, surreptitiously make out in a gallery. Sounds like a grand time."

Aurora smiled at him, and he felt as though he was about to melt into the floor.

"Yeah, that's the plan," she said. "Ready to head out?"

***

Walter graced Brian and Aurora with a knowing smile as they stepped out of the elevator and approached his desk. Aurora came to a sudden stop, as though she had just remembered something.

"Yes, Ms. Shea?" The doorman said.

"Would it be possible to add Brian here to my list of known guests? Brian Bishop?"

"Of course, ma'am," Walter said, turning to his computer and tapping at the keyboard for a few seconds. "Mr. Bishop has been added. He just needs to bring his photo ID."

"Thank you, Walter," Aurora said as she turned toward the entrance. She glanced back at the desk. "Oh, yeah, I meant to ask - if Brian turns out to be an abusive asshole who makes my life a living hell and uses his known guest status to make me a prisoner in my own home, can you remove him from the system?"

"Yes, Ms. Shea, we have that functionality," Walter said with a straight face and an even tone of voice.

"Outstanding," she said. She inclined her head toward the exit and Brian followed along right behind her.

"'Known guest?' What is that, like most favored nation status? Do we have a trade deal now?"

Aurora pushed open the lobby's front door and they both enjoyed the feeling of the cool Seattle early morning on their faces. The sun was still struggling over the horizon, but they could see small puddles of water on the granite walkway. It had rained while they were inside. Neither of them had noticed.

"Nothing special," Aurora said. "Just means you can use the pool and the gym. If you're an asshole about it I'll get reamed out at the next condo board meeting, so, you know, don't be an asshole about it."

"Introducing me to your doorman," Brian said, looking down at her with his mocking hazel eyes. "Big step. Have to say, not sure if I'm ready for that."

Aurora shook her head, smiled, reached up, placed her hand on the back of Brian's head and pulled him down for a kiss. They stood on the edge of the building's granite walkway and kissed, gently but with a hunger even the previous night couldn't sate, until Aurora reached down with her free hand and grabbed Brian's cock through his pants.

"Mine," she whispered into his ear. Then she winked, turned on her heel and walked back to the building. Brian watched her all the way into the lobby. He shook his head and smiled.

"God damn," he said.

Yeah... god damn.