T he latest issue of Coterie lay open on the basic wooden coffee table in the middle of my living room, turned to the first page of the interview .

Michelle was one hell of a writer .

Those were my words she'd taken and used, but she had made them her own. I knew all about what she'd written, because I'd told it to her .

So why the hell did I still have a fucking hard-on ten minutes after reading it ?

Maybe it was because something about her words had made me think that when she'd been writing it, she had been as filled with erotic anticipation as I was now .

Most of my clients were jaded about sex, even the ones who ended up with me because they'd lost interest in the act and expected me to change that .

A few of them, like Alicia, had healthy sexual appetites, and for one reason or another, it was just easier to have an arrangement with me rather than pursue some other, normal relationship with a regular, average nice guy .

Normal.

Nice.

Maybe that was the problem .

Michelle seemed like she was just the girl next door...normal, sweet, nice...she blushed when I pushed her about intimacy, but she pushed back if I went too hard .

It was different from what I was used to and that was enough to drive me a little crazy. It was also enough to make me think about her too often during the day .

Three times, I'd sat down to email her, the words I'd used already laid out in my mind .

I'd ask if I'd proven to be helpful .

If there was anything more she'd like to know .

Maybe we could meet for coffee, and I could answer some of the questions I'd left open the first time we met .

I knew how to catch a woman's interest, and Michelle's weakness was her curiosity. But still, my fingers lingered over the keyboard, unsure .

My cellphone rang, and when I checked the display, my heart skipped a beat. The caller ID read COT UNLTD .

Coterie .

Gina and I had spoken several times from a phone that belonged to the magazine. Maybe this was Michelle .

Still, I didn't answer on the first, or even immediately on the second tone. Sure, I was desperate to hear her voice, but I didn't need to let her know that .

"Hello?"

"Heya, gorgeous," a familiar, sexy voice said .

The voice was not Michelle's .

"Gina. Hi. I heard you were in an accident," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show in my voice. It was second nature to hide that sort of thing though. Most of my life had been filled with disappointment .

"I was. Tell you what, if it wasn't for sexy male nurses..." She ended with a lusty sigh that wasn't too different from how she sounded when she asked me if I really fucked women for a living. "They made the Nurse Ratchet I had to deal with at night a little more tolerable. But you don't want to hear about all of that. I wanted to talk to you about the article ."

"The one Michelle wrote ."

"Yes. She did fantastic . I was all but fanning myself when I was done, and since I've got one arm in a cast, my other hand was getting tired." She laughed impishly .

I had to smile myself. Gina was cocky, confident, and incorrigible .

I still wished it was Michelle on the phone .

"We're lighting up with responses from our readers on social media, email boxes are full . They want more, Jake. They want more of you . The bosses here want a series of articles. What do you say ?"

My instinct was to correct her and say that they wanted more of Michelle. After all, it had been her way with my words that had written the article that had lit up social media and filled inboxes .

But...

"I might be interested," I said slowly, turning to look at the magazine .

"Fantastic. What will make that might into a one hundred percent ?"

"I want Michelle to handle it ."

Gina was quiet, but only for a split second. It had been my estimation that very little slowed her or swayed her for long. I was right. It didn't take her long to say, "I'm totally cool with that. My editor and I came up with the idea, but Michelle handled the interview and her article is going over like gangbangers. But I can't make any promises. My editor has to give the final okay. Are you cool with that ?"

"Cool enough to wait and see what they say ."

Because if they didn't say yes, I wasn't doing it .

"Excellent. You'll hear from me or Michelle soon." She hesitated, then added, "Jake ?"

"Yeah?"

"Michelle...she's a nice girl." She didn't add anything else, but she didn't need to .

"I noticed, Gina. Don't worry. I don't make a habit of eating nice girls alive and leaving nothing but a quivering, broken heart ."

I ended the call and pushed my phone back into my pocket, then went over and picked up the magazine, skimming the article one more time .

It wasn't good, I told myself, that she was filling my head as much as she was, taking over my thoughts .

I'd been honest with Gina when I said I didn't make a habit of messing around with nice girls. I didn't have time, and honestly, the kind of nice girls she meant when she talked about Michelle – nervous, shy, a little uncertain about her own sexuality – they didn't often come looking to pay a man for sex. Maybe they dreamed about it, thought about it...? I had no idea .

But they steered clear of men like me .

I tossed the magazine back down on the table, running my hands through my hair. I hadn't always been a whore .

There had been a time when I probably qualified as nice and normal myself. Looking up, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the tattoos covering some older, rougher – uglier – work, studied the muscle that had been developed over months and years of a hard life. There was no sign of the nice, normal boy I must have been once upon a time .

Maybe that was why I wanted to spend time with Michelle .

She hadn't instantly gone from hi to let's go fuck .

Although one thing was sure...let's go fuck was pretty high on my list of things to do .