The window blinds have a kink in them, and in its space, a single blade of sunlight hits me right across the eyes, jolting me awake. I roll over and rub them with my fist, and then I see her—Abby.

She somehow looks even hotter than the night before … maybe it's because we're both still completely naked, or maybe it's the way her blonde hair cascades down across her shoulders and reaches the tip of one exposed breast. I can't help but smile. I normally don't stick around after I've fucked a woman, but Abby's … well, she's different. There isn't anything in me that is telling me to flee. No red flags. No panic button.

I tap my phone on and look at the time.

Fuck. It's already a quarter past 8, and I'm late for my Skype call with CJ. Sure enough, as soon as this realization dawns on me, my phone vibrates with an incoming text message.

"Where R U???"

It's CJ. Predictable. She's like clockwork.

You ever have someone that will just stay on your case until you do what they tell you to?

Yeah, that’s CJ.

Shit, I better get up.

"1 sec just grabbing coffee sorry I'm late," I text back.

I carefully pull the covers off of me, and try not to wake Abby. But looking back at her … her face, the outline of her body, those curves … makes my cock twitch. Not now, I tell myself. As much as I'd like to wake her for another round—a repeat of what we shared last night—I have work to take care of first. I need to think with the head on top of my two shoulders, not the head on my cock … as much as my body fucking thinks otherwise.

I grab my coffee and walk over to my computer, powering it up. I listen to it purr to life, and I launch the Skype app. With its signature whooshing sound, it pops on my screen. I find CJ's name and press the green call button. It buzzes for a bit and then she answers.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up," she chides me.

"I know ... you don't have to give me shit. I overslept."

"You look tired, but I have some news that might perk you up."

"What's that?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair and trying to smooth it down. I realize I probably look like a fucking mess right now on the screen. I didn't even have a chance to brush my hair before jumping online.

"I've hooked up with a photographer," she says smiling.

"Good for you; it's about time you've seen some action," I yawn. "How long's it been? A month? A year?"

"Not that kind of hook up—you savage. I mean that I've found us a good photographer. She calls herself Mistress Strokes."

"That's an interesting name."

"She's an equally interesting person—definitely the artistic type. She has blue hair and comes highly recommended," CJ says, grinning from ear to ear. I watch the screen as she pushes her own hair behind her ears. She always does that when she's excited.

"Great," I say, wondering if this is the reason why she wanted to meet with me this morning—just to tell me about some photographer. Like I really give a fuck who takes my picture.

"You should be thankful," she says. "It wasn't easy finding someone. Not a lot of photographers wanted to work with you. They were afraid you'd somehow sully their reputations."

"I don't really give a fuck what they think, CJ. You know that."

"Fair enough," she shrugs. "I do know that, but the good thing is that we don't need to worry about it anymore. By the way, how did your meeting with Abby Cleveland go last night?"

"It was um … well it … it went great," I say, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I somehow wasn't expecting to field that question right off the bat, and I absently run my fingers through my hair again. CJ would flip if she knew the full truth.

She squints her eyes at me as if she's putting together two pieces of a puzzle and she's just found a match. "Hmm… you were up late last night, you overslept for our meeting this morning … where's Abby now?" CJ asks.

"Um … she's … well, she is—" I start to respond, but CJ cuts me off.

"You have to be kidding me Aidan! Not again. Are you freaking serious!"

"What? Why are you freaking out on me right now?" I shrug.

"You of all people should know by now that this won't end well. Has it ever?" she asks.

"Calm down; everything's fine."

"It's not fine! We can't afford to ruin a perfectly good relationship here. This is a good opportunity. And as your agent, I have to put it bluntly—she may be our last chance," CJ says, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling in exasperation.

"I fucking promise that's not what's going to happen here."

"Give me a break. That's what always happens."

"This time is different."

"Sure it is, just like the last time, and the time before that, right?"

But before I can answer her and tell her that in fact I never made that kind of promise with any of those other women, I hear a noise behind me.

I stop and swivel my chair around to take a look.

Then I see her.

It's Abby.

She's leaning in the doorway wearing nothing but my button-up shirt. It's big on her. She only has a few buttons clasped, and the shirt is hanging off her right shoulder.

"Morning," she purrs, parting her moist lips in a smile and sweeping her hair to one side.

I immediately want to run my fingers through her hair and pull her close. If I'm honest, there are a lot of things I'd like to do to her right now. I look at her smooth and slender bare legs, and the way the shirt just barely reaches her middle thighs.

"Aidan, are you still there?" CJ asks on the computer and I'm jolted back to reality.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm here, but listen, I've gotta go CJ."

"Aidan, wait, we need to—"

But before she can finish, I interrupt.

"Bye CJ—we'll talk again soon—promise," I blurt out and end our call in a swift click of a button. The screen, and CJ's face, vanishes.

Good.

I have way more important things to attend to.

I turn my attention back to the sexy goddess in the doorway.

"Good morning to you," I say, getting up from my chair and walking toward her.

This is going to be one hell of a morning, I smile to myself.

All I can tell you, babe, is I hope you’re not sitting in public as you’re reading this.