It’s Saturday, my favorite fucking day of the week. Why is it my favorite fucking day of the week you ask?

Well it’s simple really.

I don’t have to put up with other people’s bullshit all fucking day long. Being CEO of one of the biggest, most successful and wide ranging lingerie companies in the country does have its perks, don’t get me wrong.

On the other hand, it’s extremely high profile and demanding. For me, Saturdays represent leisure time, relaxing me time and quiet time.

I don’t have any children…yet. I need to fucking embrace the silence while I still can. Of course I’m looking forward to bouncing a little bundle of joy on my knee and smelling the precious baby smell on my newborn’s shiny head.

It’s enough to make my uterus quiver for sure, but today is Saturday pre-knocked up and I’m sitting on my balcony overlooking the park while I enjoy my favorite Italian blend, a perfect coffee brew for a chiller than usual morning.

My phone rings and I reach to get it off the table. It’s Molly, and I answer with a smile.

“What’s up, bitch?” I say teasingly, referring to our pet names for each other.

“Hey, slut,” she giggles into the phone.

“What are you up to?” I ask.

Molly sighs. “Oh nothing much, just wondering what you are going to do today?”

“You know me.” I say. “It’s chill out day.”

“That sounds good. Do you want to maybe grab a bite to eat for dinner and maybe some drinks after that?”

“Hell yes.” I nod my head ardently, even though she can’t fucking see me.

“Great, I’ll call you later okay?”

“Perfect, see you later, sexy chick.” I chuckle and we hang up.

I take another sip of my warm coffee and it relaxes me. I reflect on sex with Zane and how fucking incredible it is.

I mean, fuck, he really is talented when it comes to eating girls out. I can tell he’s had a lot of fucking practice.

I become wet just thinking about his tongue doing the alphabet or some shit, working perfect concentric circles on my clit.

My naughty thoughts come to a halt when I hear my door bell ring from the open sliding glass door.

I instinctively stand up and look towards my foyer. I have no idea who that could be but I immediately have an ominous feeling about this.

Part of me wants to just stay out on my balcony and ignore the person on the other side, but the other, more curious and daring side of me wants to know who the fuck has the audacity to knock on my door at ten o’clock on a fucking Saturday morning.

I also wonder how the prospective person got past the doorman, which leads me to believe it must be a neighbor.

It’s probably Mrs. Carlson again, wanting to borrow an egg or something. She’s so damn cute and friendly I have to be kind to her.

I walk to the door and look out the peep hole but I don’t see anyone standing there.

Hmm, well that’s fucking odd as shit. Who is there? Could it be some random teenager deciding to pull a prank and play ding dong ditch?

I remember doing that as a kid, so I wouldn’t put it past today’s youth.

I cautiously open the door and crane my neck out into the hallway, looking left first.

“Piper.”

I spin around and my heart stops at my name, it sounds like a male voice.

I hold my hand over my chest and try to breath fucking evenly. “What the fuck, David?” I scream, probably waking up my whole fucking floor.

They’re in for a scene out of a soap opera because my ex-boyfriend is staring at me with begging eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to scare you,” he holds up his hands as if he means no fucking harm. His voice is apologetic.

I run a hand through my hair. “This isn’t a good fucking time, David.”

I’m curt with him but I don’t fucking care. He has no right to be here, we are not a couple anymore and he’s fully aware of that fact.

His eyes darken and narrow. “Why, do you have some other guy in there?”

He moves past me to look into my apartment, his eyes searching.

I place my hand on his chest. “Back the fuck off, please.”

My tone inflects warning but it’s doing nothing to stop the frantic mania that’s consuming David for whatever fucking reason.

“Anyway, how the fuck did you even get up here?” I ask resentfully. I will so need to fucking talk to management.

“That guy let me in,” he says vaguely.

“Guy? What fucking guy?” I throw my hands up in the air in exasperation.

“You know that one with the red, fiery-looking hair?”

“Oh yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I forget that people around here still recognize you.

“Right.” He nods his head and I notice he’s breathing really fast.

“Are you paranoid about something?” I just have to ask.

“I just really need to fucking talk to you okay?” He leans in a little too close for comfort.

“Yeah well…I don’t want to fucking talk to you,” I counter.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” he blurts out of nowhere.

I shake my head, not understanding. “What the hell are you talking about?” I fold my arms across my chest defensively.

“Nothing.” He paces back and forth.

“Okay, you are really fucking getting on my nerves,” I groan. “You need to leave, David.”

I point to the end of the hallway by the elevators.

David shakes his head, adamant to make his case.

“I think we need to get back together,” he says and we lock eyes.

At first I don’t respond because I’m waiting for the shock waves of the earthquake he just dropped on me to stop their ripple effect.

Then my next reaction is to fucking laugh my ass off. “I’m sorry…what?”

“We should be together,” he says.

I shake my head and rub my temples. I still won’t let him into my apartment because that will just open the can of worms I want desperately to keep contained.

“No, David, we are horrible together.”

“We’re perfect for each other.” He tries to take my hands but I pull away.

“If fire and ice or oil and fucking water are perfect for each other then I suppose you’re right,” I drawl with sarcasm.

“Just give us another chance.” His eyes are pleading. “I can show you how I’m a new man. I won’t hurt you.”

I take a deep, measured breath. “I have things to do,” I say and close the door to my apartment, locking myself inside. I hold my breath, but David doesn’t knock again.