I woke up the following morning, still nursing a bit of a hangover. Thank God it was Sunday morning and I didn't have to go to work. I had slept most of yesterday and had woken up early last evening only long enough to scarf some food, take a shower, and then go back to bed. This had been one of the most stimulating weekends I had experienced in quite some time. Now, laying in bed, arms crossed behind my head and staring up at the ceiling, I once again had doubts. I realized now that it might not have been such a good idea to sleep with Karen. Then again, armchair quarterbacking was great, wasn't it? Besides, it was too late now to take it back. But back there in the bar, despite the fact that she had gradually drunk herself into a stupor, I'd felt a connection with her. I didn't exactly feel sorry for her, but I could commiserate with her. I knew what it felt like to be dumped.

The sex with Karen had been great, even though we had both been drunk. She was incredibly sexy, and to be honest, it wouldn't take much for me to sleep with her again. But I know it wouldn't look good. I knew that whatever way I tried to look at it, I was the one that walked away looking like a douchebag; a guy who had taken advantage of a woman in an extremely vulnerable state. I doubted that she would believe me, if I ever spoke to her again, that is, that she had inspired me.

Whether she regretted it or not, the very fact that she had spoken up during the wedding ceremony was awe-inspiring. Sure, she had fallen flat on her face, and was likely the topic of rampant gossip over her behavior this weekend, but man, she had balls! I didn't know the history of her relationship with the groom, and I suppose it didn't really matter.

Yes, I'd been sexually attracted to her the moment she stood up in the church, but I had done the right thing, hadn't I? Making sure that she'd gotten home okay? But that was lame. Or was it? Sure, I could've called the taxi for her and told the driver to drop her off at the apartment, but then what? She'd been pretty unsteady. I'd had to carry her into the elevator, walk her down the hallway, and into her apartment as it was. I had to make sure that she got home safe. It was the right thing to do. The gentlemanly thing to do. But, giving in to my baser urges might not have been one of my finest hours. Maybe I had misinterpreted the way she leaned against me, melted into my body. Had I misread her cues? Were they really cues or was she just shit-faced drunk and couldn't stand upright?

Not to mention the fact that she was a socialite. I had Googled her yesterday when I'd been conscious long enough to do so. Out of curiosity. She was rich, spoiled, and obviously used to the better things in life. She was definitely out of my league. I was a mere executive's assistant.

Did it matter? Maybe she was wondering about me at this moment as I was wondering about her? I scoffed. No way. I knew that such thoughts were merely wishful thinking. She would not have felt the same connection as I had. That was the booze talking. Nevertheless, the more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that I needed to know. What did I have to lose?

Finally, I got up, took a long shower, dressed, drank down a pot of coffee, and then looked into the mirror in my entryway, straightening my shirt collar. I didn't look much the worse for wear, other than slightly bloodshot eyes.

I tried to convince myself that checking up on her was – again - the gentlemanly thing to do. I would effectively place the ball in her court. If she was interested, I would know. If she wasn't, I would know that too. Why did I care? I couldn't even really explain it. I could tell myself that I was just making sure that she was okay. I could tell myself that it had been okay for me to give in to my baser urges when she leaned against me, but that was lame.

I took a cab to her apartment, and the closer I got to her building, the more I realized I was letting myself in for a big letdown. She was a high-profile socialite and me, a struggling executive assistant. Not only was I out of her league socially, but financially. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I arrived at the apartment, saw the panel of buzzers on the outside. She had swiped in with a card, but unescorted visitors needed to buzz in. Nameplates next to the buzzers only provided initials, individualized tabs of metal screwed into the plate that could be replaced when tenants moved in or moved out. I found the one for K.Q. and pressed it. A moment later, I heard her tinny voice.

"Who is it?"

"It's Ben." For several seconds I stood there. I could imagine her wondering. I was just about to walk away when I heard her voice again.

"What the hell are you doing here? Uninvited?"

That last word was emphasized. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure, but I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea about me—"

"What happened the other night happened. I was drunk. Don't make anything more of it than there was."

"Okay." I drawled. "No need to be bitchy about it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all."

A burst of expletives barraged my ears. Then, dead silence. Too bad. I guess I was dead wrong thinking there was something more to her than the spoiled, entitled, arrogant rich girl I had read about online.

I turned away, trying to shrug the whole thing off. I wasn't going to apologize for being a man, and while I'd hoped things might have turned out differently, I certainly wasn't going to go home crying about it. Sometimes, that's what you got by trying to be a nice guy. Sometimes, I wished I wasn't, but… whatever.

At least I had made the gesture, and if she wasn't smart enough to accept the fact that I had come, if not to apologize, then to at least make sure she was okay, that was on her. Dammit though, I still couldn't help feel attracted to her. I knew that beneath that tough, arrogant, and yes, bitchy exterior, there was someone lost deep inside. Don't ask me where I got that opinion, but maybe in her I saw kindred spirit.

When I had gotten dumped two years ago, I had gone through a pretty rough time. While most guys don't admit things like this, I realized that my heart had indeed been broken. It came out of left field, too, which only made it worse. I'd been naïve, not wanting to see anything wrong with my relationship with Chastity. I'd been blinded by my own love and devotion to her. Don't get me wrong. I'm not a suck up. I don't let women walk all over me, boss me around, or act like they're better than me. But I was brought up in a household where women were respected. Maybe it was the fact that Chastity had been my second serious relationship, one that went so far as to ask her to marry me. Then I found out she was sleeping with another guy. One who had more money and a better job than me. Needless to say, I didn't have that much experience with the opposite sex. Then.

Chastity taught me a lesson. It had taken over a year before I had even gone out on a date after that, and I had made it clear in the beginning that it was just a date, nothing more. I wasn't looking for any long-term relationships. I still wasn't. But there was something about Karen that was so damned attractive. Maybe alluring was a better word. Was I so attracted to her because I knew I couldn't have her? No, it wasn't that. I didn't care a hoot about how much money or influence someone had. No, for me, my attraction to Karen came down to simple and basic chemistry.

I had felt that chemistry zap me the moment she'd begun her tirade in the church. Instead of being off-putting and disgusting, I saw it from the other side. Brazen. A willingness to stand up for oneself, regardless of the repercussions. Oh, it was obvious that now she regretted her outburst, but nevertheless, while her timing could have been better, I admired her for the courage it had taken to speak up.

Oh well, I had struck out. Wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last. At street level, with the ambience of the bustling traffic, the sights, smells, and the steam of heat rising from the grates over the subway system, I hailed a taxi. Time to get home. Nothing more for me to do here.