After our obscenely delicious bowls of pasta, we move onto the couch. Ah, the magic of having Netflix, Hulu, iTunes, and Amazon streaming at my fingertips.

I find The Apartment and turn to Mal. "Have you seen this one?"

"Don't think so."

"You sure?"

"I don't usually pay attention." He smiles as I smirk. "You're fucking adorable shooting me dirty looks."

"You will pay attention."

"What if I'd rather make you come?"

Ahem. "That's what the pause button is for."

He pulls me into his lap and looks up at me, those deep blue eyes full of affection. "You sure?" He presses his palm against my sex, over my shorts.

Not sure. Not remotely sure. Not able to form coherent sentences.

Sex. Mal. Now.

I clear my throat and slide off his lap. "I'm very sure." I attempt to turn my body towards the TV. It refuses. It begs for proximity. "You need anything before we start?"

"Will you sit in my lap if I promise to play nice?"

"Maybe."

"No funny business." He copies my tone.

"That didn't work out last night."

"You can't blame me. You took off your panties."

I can't help but smile. Or slide into his lap. His chest feels good against my back. With his breath on my neck and his arms around me—

Fuck, this is heaven.

"Okay, ready?" I ask.

"Ready."

I press play and sink into his lap. Mal is quiet. The only sounds in the room are the film and his breath.

He's not torturing me. He must know this is important to me. Mal really does respect me. It's not like when I tried to show Adam movies. He'd ignore them.

We move around on the couch. I rest my head in his lap. He combs his fingers through my hair. I grab a blanket and cuddle up next to him.

He holds me close.

After the first two movies, we talk. We talk until the sun sets. We talk through Mal making dinner— pan-fried salmon and sautéed kale, of course.

I love that he eats fish and kale for dinner.

I love that he cozies up on the couch with me after dinner and watches my third pick—Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

I love that he knows the film's director, Michel Gondry, got his start directing music videos.

I love the way his blue eyes look when he's focusing.

I want to talk about the movie. I want to talk to him forever. But it's late and I have an early call time.

It's torture forcing myself to change into my dress, get my stuff together, and head to the door.

Mal walks me to my car. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. It's intimate enough to leave me breathless.

"Goodnight, Lacey."

"Goodnight."

I think about him the entire drive home.

As I change into my pajamas.

As I touch myself.

As I fall asleep.

I even dream about him.

* * *

I text Mal during the breaks in my day. When I wake up. On the elliptical, at the gym. While I'm waiting for Danielle's coffee. While I'm waiting for a reply from Carrie. When I finish cataloging my first round of videos.

While I think up a new excuse for why I'm not putting in notice for Danielle.

As soon as I get home.

Before I boot up my computer.

Between episodes of TV.

Between emails with the video's producer.

Before I go to bed.

While I'm lying in bed, completely unable to sleep because I'm thinking about him.

Mostly, we talk about nothing—details of our days, our takes on the movies we watched together, teasing about my early bedtimes and his clean living.

I'm about to fall blissfully asleep when my phone buzzes.

Mal: Just got the news. We have a date for the Hurt Me, Baby release. First week of September.

Lacey: Okay. Good.

Mal: You nervous?

Lacey: Maybe.

He doesn't call me on it.

Lacey: I guess I'm out of time to quit my job, huh?

Mal: You haven't put in notice?

Lacey: I mean to. Every day, I mean to, but I can't seem to string the words together.

Mal: Do it tomorrow.

Lacey: Maybe.

Mal: I'll make it worth your while.

Lacey: I'm listening.

Mal: I want to celebrate with you, Lacey. But we can't celebrate with this hanging over your head.

Lacey: I disagree.

Mal: Text me when you've done it. I'll pick you up at eight.

Lacey: I didn't agree yet.

Mal: You want me to tie you up and spank you?

Lacey: Yes.

Mal: Then you'll do it.

Lacey: You know how to bribe a woman.

Mal: I do what I can.

Lacey: What if I don't quit tomorrow?

Mal: Then we can't celebrate.

Lacey: This is sexual blackmail.

Mal: And?

Lacey: It's effective.

Mal: I know.

* * *

All day, I avoid any conversation with Danielle.

I write five different resignations and delete them all.

I write ten different notes on scratch paper and tear up every one.

I need to do this.

I should have done it as soon as I accepted the offer to shoot the video.

But that doesn't help steady my hands.

Mal taunts me with his texts.

He promises to tie me to the bed.

To make me come until I beg him to stop.

Until I pass out.

To fuck me so hard I can't breathe.

He sends me a picture of his under-the-bed restraints.

Of his riding crop.

Of him, from his nose to that v just below his hips.

God, I want to trace every line on his body—the muscles and the tattoos. I want to feel the weight of him sinking into me. I want to taste his lips and his neck and his cock.

Danielle's voice pulls me from my dirty thoughts. "You can head home as soon as you've finished with those emails."

Right. Emails. I smile like I'm paying attention.

Only Danielle is reaching for her purse. She's about to leave for her last meeting.

I have to do this now.

"Danielle." I push up from my seat. My stomach rises up in my throat. Holding her gaze is making this impossible.

"Yes?" She clears her throat and makes that you're wasting my time noise.

I can't do this.

Fuck. I really can't do this.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Nope. Still can't do this.

She clears her throat.

Okay. This doesn't have to be graceful. It can be messy and ugly, as long as it's done.

This is the right decision.

It's what I want, even if it's scary.

No more fetching lattes and dry-cleaning.

No more snide comments.

No more diva musicians treating me like the help.

"Lacey?" She makes that noise again. "I'm leaving."

Shit. It's now or never.

It needs to be now.

I take one more deep breath and exhale slowly.

"I'm putting in notice." I keep my eyes on the floor. "My last day will be next Friday."

"Okay…" She taps her toe against the concrete floor. "Why are you leaving?" Her sneer adds there's no way someone like you found a better job.

"Family reasons." It's bullshit, but I can't tell her the truth.

"All right…" She takes a step towards the door. "Start looking for your replacement right away. I want five candidates coming in for interviews on Friday. Schedule them every half hour, starting at four." She smiles evilly. "I need to know they're committed."

Only a true sadist asks people to travel Friday evenings in Los Angeles. But that's Danielle. It's good that I'm quitting.

It's terrifying, but it's good.

I smile back. "Of course."

She huffs, annoyed that I'm not annoyed, and leaves without a goodbye.

I settle back into my chair.

I'm almost unemployed.

And I get Mal all night.

I text him back.

Lacey: I did it.

Mal: Wear a nice dress, no panties.

God help me.