I’m sitting on the balcony watching something on my tablet. It’s pretty engrossing and I don’t even notice the sounds of the New York City traffic below.

What?

No, you can’t see what I’m looking at.

I think that I already fucking share enough with you as it is, you know? It’s nothing personal. It’s just something that I want to keep to myself for now. I’m sure later on you’ll find out in time.

But let me just tell you one thing.

What’s on this fucking tablet is explosive. I mean, if you saw it, you would probably be fucking pissed at me. Maybe you’d tell me to do something that I’m not prepared to do right now. This book would be over because I’d walk the fuck away if you told me that.

Yes, fine. It has to do with Brittney, but that’s all you’re getting out of me, babe.

Besides I can’t answer any more. Don’t you hear the doorbell? She’s here.

I go inside, make sure to turn off my tablet and put it on the table before opening the door.

She’s standing there in a slinky black strapless dress that comes down five inches above her knees.

It's fucking classy and sexy at the same time. I don't even know how it's fucking possible but it makes me want to hold her close and protect her while ripping it off and fucking her at the same goddamn time.

Her face is made up and it’s beautiful. But my dick would be as hard as it is now if she had no makeup on.

God, I need to get a hold of myself.

"I was hoping you'd come," I say. "I have a surprise for you."

She looks at me like she’s seen a ghost.

“Come on in,” I tell her and she walks by. I turn to look at her ass as she walks by. That dress is tight around the ass and I watch those cheeks as they flex as she walks. Fucking Christ, I’m fucking hard already.

You’re shaking your fucking head at me, huh? I know. Don’t think I can’t see you. Yeah, I’m not ashamed or anything. Fuck that. I want to squeeze that ass. Rub it and knead it. Like fucking dough. I want to run my cock over it. Stick it in between those ass cheeks. I want to smack that fucking ass.

Then when I’m ready I want to fucking cum all over.

Mark it as mine.

Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I take a step over toward Brittney. The look in my eyes should probably tell her what I'm going to do to her—how I’m going to take her like the fucking savage beast that I am.

“Ethan,” she says to me, and I automatically hear something in her voice that makes me stop. “I need to tell you something.”

Fuck.

Outwardly, I’m calm. My brain may be consumed by lust, but you can’t tell looking at me from the outside. Sure, maybe if you grab my cock, you can tell. But if you’re doing that, then you’re probably thinking the same thing as I am.

Why am I all of a sudden like this? That’s what you want to know, isn't it?

Because of what I saw on the fucking tablet.

Yeah, the same thing I can’t tell you about yet.

Don’t pout. I just had to fucking do that. I’m going to fucking miss you when this book is over; you know that, don’t you?

Anyways, we’re far from done now, because Brittney is looking at me and I can tell she’s starting to waver in whatever she had committed to doing.

“Let’s sit down,” I tell her, and I take her hand and lead her to the sofa where I sit her down next to me.

I can smell her fucking perfume. It’s fucking addictive and it makes my nostrils flare up.

“What did you want to tell me?” I ask, looking at her.

Brittney looks down.

“Hey,” I tell her. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just a secret that I’ve been keeping from you,” she tells me. I nod. Every one of us has fucking secrets. That’s nothing new.

If you want to know my secrets, you’ll go turn on that tablet. But you can’t.

Yeah, I’m an asshole sometimes. I know.

“Babe, it’s okay,” I tell her, holding her chin with my hand and lifting her face. “You can tell me anything, but you don’t have to tell me everything.”

Brittney looks at me for a second. “You know I used to do porn, right?” she asks me.

I nod. I mean, I never outright asked her specifically if she used to be a porn star, but it was always something I suspected. And there was something about her face that seems kind of familiar…

“I always thought,” I say still nodding, “But I never really knew for sure.”

“I lived in Los Angeles for the longest time and I sort of drifted into the business,” she tells me, looking at me intently, seeing what my reaction is going to be. “I came to New York to get away from it.”

“Well, you seemed to do a good job of that, babe,” I tell her, smiling a bit to show her that it’s okay. I can tell she's fucking on edge—looking to see any sign of me being upset. “You’re going to be the first Illicit Escape girl. I don't know if that’s leaving the business entirely.”

“But that’s not what I thought I’d be doing when I came to New York,” she tells me, and she scoots closer. “I honestly thought I’d be leaving porn forever. I brought my assistant with me, Walter. And we set up a business together.”

I nod. Walter reminds me of Cheryl in a lot of ways from the few times I’ve seen him here and there as I’ve met Brittney.

“Okay,” I say, scooting a bit closer. “So you used to do porn. I’m in porn too,” I tell her.

“But it’s what I did afterwards, that I want to tell you about,” she tells me, struggling to get the words out.

“What did you do afterwards?” I ask, now getting genuinely interested.

“I started a company, where women would come to me, and they’d tell me about the men they wanted me to fuck, and I’d seduce them for money,” she says to me, letting it all come out in a rush. “They wanted to get proof that these men were assholes and were cheating on them so they’d have grounds for divorce.”

“They couldn’t just get a private investigator?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t always so easy. The husbands, maybe they weren’t cheating then, but they were still ignoring and mistreating their wives. Sometimes it was just that the husbands weren’t traveling. But the wives knew the love was gone. And they wanted out of the marriage. They came to me.”

I’m silent. Brittney continues.

“I’m the CEO of a company called Man Chasers, LLC, Ethan,” she confides. “And for the longest time I thought I didn’t need a man in my life at all. That they were nothing but a waste of time.”

I don't know what to fucking say.

“But then I kinda met you,” she finishes off with.

She’s looking at me. Waiting for me to fucking say something.

I move my eyes back to her. She’s so fucking cute as a button.

“I’ve never spent as much time with a single woman as I have with you,” I tell her. It’s the fucking truth. “I’ve never spent so much time fucking thinking about a woman as I do when you’re not around, Brit,” I say.

She gasps as I pull her close to me.

“And I could care less that you’ve been in fucking porn as long as you’re here with me right fucking now, babe,” I continue forcefully. “I could care less that you made a job to find out cheating scumbags and have them pay for being assholes.”

Brittney starts to smile and I pull her over to me all the way. She comes willingly.

“No one has fucking affected me. Ever. Like you,” I tell her. I’m telling her the truth. “When you first walked in that door, I fucking wanted to bang the shit out of you. I wanted to fucking smack your ass till you cried out and suck on your tits as I fucked you. I wanted to cum all over that fucking gorgeous body you got, babe,” I say to her, as serious as I’ve ever been in my life.

“That’s so romantic, Ethan,” she says with a teasing grin, as she rests her body on my chest. I can feel her. Every inch of her. Pressed against me. It’s fucking heaven. “You don’t want me to do that anymore?”

Fuck. This is where you’re going to think I’m fucking crazy. Especially if you saw what I saw on the tablet. But you didn’t. So you’re going to have to trust me that I know what's best.

I reach over to the cigar box on the coffee table. I open it and pull out the only existing prototype of Illict Escape.

Brittney’s eyes go wide.

“Is that…” she trails off.

“Yeah,” I tell her hoarsely. “It’s the only copy to date that we’ve made of Illicit Escape. And yes, I still want to fuck your brains out. But I trust you, babe. And I want you to experience what this is going to be like.”

Brittney’s eyes go wide and I can see that they’re going to tear up.

She’s fucking overwhelmed. The super secret project. Guarded so fucking closely.

And I’m about to let her in.

I take the glasses and put them on her. They’re spare and very minimal—single rimmed and unobtrusive.

I pull over my tablet. It’ll let me see what she sees.

“Let’s go for a ride, baby,” I tell her.

Then I power it on.