My arms quiver as I lower myself to the ground. My chest barely touches the mat before I push myself back up and grunt out, “Twenty-five.” Pulling my knees up, I lean all the way back so I can stretch my muscles out before starting another rep of push-ups.

The gym is bustling with people, mostly women with a majority of them using the treadmills. Up until this week I’ve never had a problem working out, but I find it hard to concentrate with all these hot, sexy chicks flaunting their curves in their skintight spandex pants. Never have I had this problem or felt like I’m chomping at the bit to get laid until my haphazard lunch with Bryant when the only thing served was a plate of tits and a buffet of pussy.

It’s some kind of fucked up sorcery—that place he took me to. I can’t get it out of my mind, and I have never been one to visit titty bars or gentlemen clubs.

I’ve done all of my dating through friends, or there’s been a time or two when I’ve gotten online and chatted with a few women. Mostly those turned out to be straight up hook-ups. You spend so much time sexting that while you’re trying to make it through the meal all you can do is think about the nudes the lady across from you has sent and count the minutes until you’re at each other’s place.

Starting the next rep, I lower myself to the ground, exhaling on my way down. The intake of air is supposed to help me rise up, but the strain is real. This is my forth set, and while I’m not out of shape, my body is burning. I pound out as many as I can, choosing to rest in a two-minute plank before making my way over to the treadmill.

As my luck would have it, the only one available is between two hot chicks—one blonde and one brunette. Both with asses that make my mouth water. I really need to get laid.

“Hey, good looking,” another hot chick says as she walks by. As if by instinct I turn, only to watch her walk up to another guy. He’s fucking huge and looks like he could break me in half. Instead of heading to the treadmill, I turn toward the locker room.

Cutting my workout short is never favorable. In fact, it makes me feel like a failure. I pride myself on staying in shape, following a healthy diet, even when I’m on the road. I am the type of guy who sends his suits out for dry cleaning, who likes his shoes polished, but I can also be laidback. Give me the sun and some bitchin’ waves and I’ll surf the shit out of them.

Now that I have extra time, I decide to head home to take a shower. So far, I like Portland, at least what I have seen. I thought about asking Bryant to show me around, but fear I might end up tied to a bed at a brothel or bent over some slab of wood, getting my ass whacked by a leather whip. Bryant may be into that freaky shit, but I certainly am not.

Jogging back to my apartment, I opt to take the stairs over waiting for the elevator. All I can think about is how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Never, in my life, have I been like this. Usually a quick hand job and I’m good to go, but Rosie and her sisters aren’t getting the job done, apparently.

Stripping out of my gym clothes, I step right into the shower, not minding that the water is freezing. I give myself a minute before I look and find my dick bobbing against my stomach.

“Mother fucker,” I mutter as I grip him hard. It feels good, but it’s not enough. With my other hand braced against the wall, I imagine all the women I saw today, without clothes and … spinning around a stripper pole.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say, pumping hard. Since when do I find that attractive? I never have, so why now? I reach for my shampoo and dump a handful over my clenched hand for lubrication. In my mind, I’m tricking my dick into think he’s being lubed up by something else.

“I need to get laid.” My breathing turns labored as my hand slides over my shaft. My hips start to buck, my feet slip, and my free hand is now grasping the showerhead so I don’t crash into the wall or fall on my face.

That would be an epic story to tell in the office. “Hey, new guy, what happened to your face?”

“Oh nothing, just a little hand job gone crazy this morning.”

My inner musings are prolonging the situation. I imagine any girl that I know, bent over the side of my couch with my hands gripping her hips while I pound into her sweet pussy.

“Ahh,” I groan as my release comes hot and fast. “Finally.”

I wash my hands fully before proceeding to take a shower. The last thing I need to do is show up at work looking like what’s his face from Something About Mary. As funny as that movie is, I have a feeling that if Mr. Ward asked me what’s going on and why I had sperm gel in my hair, I don’t think he’d appreciate my answer of, “You see, boss, Bryant took me to a strip club and now I can’t get it out of my head.” I’d be fired on the spot, and that isn’t something I want to happen.

Dressing quickly, I decide to let my hair air dry. The drive to Ward Enterprises is rather short, but due to the high volume of downtown traffic it takes me longer than necessary.

Thankfully, when I step into the elevator, it’s all men, which helps with my earlier problem. If I can avoid being near women for a bit, I’ll survive the day. As much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to seek out some one-night stands. Which means finding the city’s hotspot and wooing some women.

It has to be one night because I am in no way capable of a relationship right now. The hours that I keep do not bode well for new relationships, and that would be unfair to whomever I wanted to date. I figure with a place as big as Portland, I’m bound to find a few women who won’t mind some no strings attached sex.

Stepping into my office, there’s a vase of fresh flowers on the small circular table in my office. I’m assuming Ward’s assistant put them there. I’ve never been much of a flower guy, which is probably why my last girlfriend broke up with me.

The chair at my desk is leather, and soft against my fingertips. Ward promised me the world if I took this job and so far he’s kept his word. I pull out the chair and sit down, sinking into the luxuriously fine material.

“I see you’re settling in,” Ward’s voice echoes through my office.

Sitting up straight, I motion for him to come in … not that he needs an invitation. “Just admiring the chair, sir.”

“Please, call me Parker,” he says, sitting down across from me. “Tell me about Sweet Briar.”

Leaning forward, I rest my clasped hands on the top of my desk. “Sweet Briar is one of those places that time forgot.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, interrupting me.

“The city built up around it and people left the small town for the bright lights. Towns like Sweet Briar were swallowed up. One problem with every city is weak infrastructure, over usage of cars and roads that aren’t wide enough to accommodate the traffic. People opt to live in the city or close to work, instead of living in the small communities.”

“And we change that?”

I shake my head. “We can’t do anything about the roads, but we can bring the town back to life. With the brand new grocery store and strip mall, it’ll appeal to buyers. Particularly families who are looking to escape the hustle of the city for the quiet life.”

Parker seems to like what I’m saying, which I suppose if he didn’t I wouldn’t be here. Thing is, I’m good at my job. He knows this.

“Sweet Briar holds a special place in my heart. I’d like to see it become a thriving community again.”

“Me too, sir … I mean Parker.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he tells me, but I’m not so sure. There’s an air about Parker that demands respect. “How’s everything else? Portland treating you well?”

As well as a city full of temptation can. “It’s great. I have an amazing view of Mt. Hood from my apartment.”

“Do you ski?”

I shake my head. “Not unless skiing is code word for surfing.”

Parker laughs. “I’m with you there. I’m not a big fan of the winter either. But the mountain is beautiful if you do find yourself up that way. Let me know if you need anything,” he says, standing. “You’ll find everyone very accommodating here. And keep me updated on Sweet Briar. I’m interested in the progress.”

“Will do,” I tell him just as he leaves. I half expected Parker to hover over me to make sure I’m doing the job to his specifications. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up there from time to time. It just means that every day, I need to be on the top of my game.