With just his confession from last night, I might be able to destroy him. But I want more. Something more directly related to him or his character. His confession would surely destroy his father, but the voters might end up having sympathy for him, making my plan backfire. And if my plan backfires, I lose the promotion. And that is not an option.

My first instinct was to expose him as a cheating fiancé, but that wouldn't bode well for me since I would certainly be labeled as the slut who slept with an engaged man just because she thought he wasn't actually engaged. Whether he is or not, I still slept with him, and that was wrong.

I arrange another get-together with the Bimbos…I mean ex-lovers…of Aaron Hunter. I should probably stop calling them Bimbos now since I'm one of them. I still can't believe that. I'm a bimbo. I fell under his charming spell just like they did. How could I be so reckless and stupid? And horny? Oh, so horny. I mean, I let him fuck me once. But I deliberately started the second one.

And he has a fucking fiancée! What the hell was I thinking? That's just it. I wasn't thinking. I was one-hundred and thirty pounds of raging estrogen. I didn't even recognize the woman who walked the walk of shame this morning. I mean, that woman just got into the shower with him, grabbed ahold of his phallus, and begged him to fuck her in a way that she had fantasized about for years. Who was that woman? And where the hell did she come from?

I look in the mirror and yell at my own reflection. Step three was to make him want you, not make you want him! Although, I do believe step three was a success regardless. I’ve already had three missed calls from him this morning. That's right, make him squirm.

After I walk into the office, I start the second half of my morning by pouring myself a nice, hot cup of coffee. As the hot liquid pierces through my lips, I can't help but think of him.

Last night, when I was wrapped up in his arms, drinking my first cup of coffee of the day, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time. Security. As much as I hate the idea of feeling secure in a man's arms, I loved every minute of it. To feel safe again was a luxury I could never afford. I didn't think it was even possible. But somehow, he managed to take away all my worries with just his two arms.

"Ms. Parker, the women are all gathered in Conference Room D." Her scratchy voice brought me back to the present.

"Thank you, Kathy."

I make my way over to the conference room, open the door, walk inside, and glance at my fellow bimbos. This time, I made sure to give them name tags, that way I could address them properly. They were all here: LuLu, Athena, Maria, Rachel, Melyssa, Trisha, Penny, Shauna, and Olivia. I made sure not to invite Sarah. I didn't think that her fragile heart could take another one of these sessions.

I take my seat amongst them, clearing my throat to get their attention.

"Welcome back, ladies. This session will be easier than our last one. The questions can all be answered with a raise of your hand. If you care to further elaborate on your answer, well, that's entirely up to you. So, let's begin. Raise your hand if you had sex with Aaron more than once." No hands were raised. So, apparently, it was just me.

"More than once, seriously? He barely finishes with you before he moves on to his next chick." The other women all nod in agreement.

"Alright. How many of you had sex at his house?" Just me again.

"Raise your hand if he stayed the night." No hands shot up.

"And break his precious rules? As if," LuLu scoffs. "He made us all aware of his rules before things got physical."

"His rules?" All the women recited his rules at the same time, harmoniously. It was as if they were a barber-shop quartet.

"Rule number one: do what I say…always. Rule number two: don't touch me unless given permission. Rule number three: I don't stay the night…ever. Rule number four: never my place, always yours. And rule number-five he won't tell us. He says it's an unspoken rule for his benefit."

I can't hide the shocked expression that forms on my face. He has rules? And he let me break all four, maybe five, of them?

Athena seems to take notice of just how shocked I am to find that out. She stares into my eyes. I avert my gaze downward, hoping to mask my feelings. Didn't work.

"Oh, my God! You've been fucked by Aaron Hunter too!" As she squeals, all eighteen pairs of eyes focus on me. It makes me very uncomfortable.

"Wait a minute. If you've been fucked too, why were you surprised that he had rules? Did he not tell you about them upfront?" Penny asks as she picks a piece of bagel out of her teeth with her long-nailed finger.

I guess there is no point in denying that I've been fucked anymore. To my dismay, these women turned out to be smarter than I thought. They aren't bimbos after all. I decided to just spill the beans and tell them everything, hoping they’ll share their wisdom and give me some insight as to exactly what the fuck happened last night.

"Aaron took me to a seafood restaurant last night. We barely made it through dinner without mauling each other's clothes off. He took me back to his place and fucked me in his bed. After that, I followed him into the shower, and we fucked once again. Then I woke up in the middle of the night and stood out on his patio. He came out, wrapped me in a tight embrace, and we talked. But I remembered that he is engaged and stormed out. I was angry at him but more infuriated with myself for letting this all happen. He keeps telling me that I'm different. I never believed he was telling the truth until I spoke to you girls this morning. I thought he did this same thing to every woman he is with. I didn't even know he had rules. And, by the sound of them, I think I broke them all last night."

All of their jaws drop to the floor. The women exchange glances with one another in disbelief. It was Shauna who broke the silence.

"Girl, you are different. I don't know what magical voodoo vagina you got going on down there. But I do know that none of that story happened with any of us. He likes you. A lot." The women all nod their heads in agreement.

"And forget the whole fiancée shit. Everybody knows that she is some fake bimbo he hired to appeal to minority voters like me. You can tell by her eyes that he is not tapping that. Hell, her eyes are so sad, he ain't even touching that," Maria laughs.

Trisha pulled up his speech on her phone, the exact one I witnessed in person. She pauses on the part where Marcia was introduced to the world as his fiancée. She zooms in on her face. "See. Look at that face. If she was really getting hitched to New York's hottest bachelor, she would have love-sick-puppy-dog-eyes, like you do."

"I have love-sick-puppy-dog-eyes?"

"Girl, you got it bad. You've got the eyes of a woman who clearly rode his fine-ass dick twice last night. Twice." Maria fixes her hair as she holds up two fingers and mouths the word twice. I laugh.

"So, what should I do?"

"Keep tapping that shit, girl." Shauna stands up and starts dry humping the air. "That's what I'd do if I were you."

I glance around. All the other women nod their heads up and down, agreeing with Shauna's statement. Before I know it, they all get up and join in Shauna's dry-humping-dance, screaming things like go get it, girl, and ride him like a bike. Uncomfortable with their dirty melodic dance, I place my hand on my forehead, blocking my view of most of them, and burst into laughter.

"Thank you for coming, ladies. It helped a lot."

"Girl, you better have another one of these, letting us all know what happens." I snicker.

"I will do my best."

* * *

That night, I arrive home, walk up the four flights of steps, and find Sherri waiting outside my door.

"Oh, there you are. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for the past hour." Her over-exaggerated demeanor lets me know that she is concerned. But why?

"Well, now you found me. What's up?"

Sherri gestures toward the door. Picking up on the hint, I unlock it, and we both go inside. Sherri immediately grabs both of my shoulders, anchoring me into place.

"How deep are you in?" I furrow my brow. What the fuck is she talking about?

"What are you talking about?"

"How deep are you in love with him?" I shoot her my best are-you-fucking-kidding-me-right-now look.

"I'm not in love with him. But he is getting very attached to me. I had three missed calls from him this morning." I flash her my proudest smile.

"You told him about Isaiah?" A sharp pain wrenches its way into my gut. This can't be good.

"How the hell do you know that?" Sherri brings her palm to her forehead.

"So, it's true then? You told him?" I nod, causing Sherri to rub her temples with her fingers. She usually only did that when she had a massive migraine coming on.

"So what if I did? I had to give him something after what he told me." Now Sherri furrows her brow while cocking her head slightly.

"What'd he tell you?"

"That's not important. Why are you freaking out so bad? And how did you know I told him about Isaiah?" Sherri sighs with exhaustion.

"Girl. I'm the only other person besides you and your parents that knows about Isaiah. It's your family's darkest secret. And you just blabbed it to the King Philanderer himself." I stare at her, trying to keep my anger at bay. I clench my fists, squeezing them intensely.

"You think I'm that stupid? You think I told him the whole truth as to how he died? All I told him was he had Parkinson's Disease. Which was true. He did have Parkinson's." Tears start to pour out of my eyes. I can't control it. I lose my ability to speak. The memory of that day comes flooding back to me so vividly.

It was Tuesday, December 23rd, two days before Christmas. It was a very somber year for our family, but none of us knew just how gloomily the year was going to end.

Isaiah was seven and I was five. The day started out so happy and cheery. Our mother was baking Christmas cookies in the kitchen, while Isaiah and I were running around the house playing shoot-em-up-cowboy. He was the sheriff, I was the criminal.

Isaiah was good. He was faster than me, despite his disease. He had me cornered within minutes. I, being the cleverly cunning person that I am, tried to escape. I jumped over the end-table, landing on the sofa, but not before knocking over my father's favorite lamp. It was his grandmother's. I cringed as I watched it fall, shattering into a bunch of tiny shards across the floor.

My father had impeccable timing. Just then, he arrived home from work, walked around the corner to the living room, saw the shattered family heirloom, and turned bright red. He was outraged.

"Who did this?" he barked. And before I could confess, Isaiah raised his hand and took all the blame.

"I did it, Papa. I'm so sorry. I bumped the table and it fell. I tried to catch it, but my reflexes aren't the best 'cuz…um…well, you know." He never did like admitting he had a disability. But in that moment, he thought it would spare him. He probably took all the blame, assuming our father wouldn't beat him as badly. But he was wrong.

Before we both knew it, poor Isaiah was pinned against the wall, fists flailing into his fragile body. I tried to pull my father off of him, but I just couldn't. I screamed for Mama to help, but she didn't come. She was too afraid he would go after her next. In her defense, she was usually his target. She was always bruised and beaten to a pulp. But how could she just do nothing and let her son die? I never did forgive her for that.

After she didn't help, I ran outside, shouting to the world that my father was beating my brother. Tears were streaming down my face and snot was running down my nose. My neighbor, Mrs. Albertson, came to console me. I told her that my father was beating my brother like he always did my Mama, and she sprang into action. She ran inside my house, found my father, and pulled him off Isaiah. Next thing I knew, Mrs. Albertson and my Papa were going at it. I don't know who was winning, but it didn't matter. I was too late. There, against the wall, lay my dead brother. His blood was spattered across the floral wallpaper behind him. His face was swollen and unrecognizable. It didn't even resemble anything human. That is an image that will haunt me and I will remember for the rest of my life. It is burned into my retinas…never going away. I ran and sat myself by his side. I put my head on his chest…there was no heartbeat.

I spent Christmas that year in a Child Services Center…alone. My mother was being investigated by the police, while the other one was thrown in jail. I lost my entire family that day. My mother meant nothing to me after that. I never even acknowledged the other half of my DNA. I didn't talk much for two years after that. And to make matters even worse, my mother was granted custody of me. We couldn't afford to move, so I had to live in that house until the day I turned eighteen. I never trusted another man ever again after that day.

Sherri seems to sense that she crossed a line, so she wraps me up in a tight bear hug. "I'm so sorry. I should have known better than to assume you told him that. And I'm so sorry for bringing it up now."

I knew she was being sincere, but I was still mad as hell, she just couldn't tell through all my tears and sobs.

"It was supposed to be me. I am supposed to be dead. Not him!"

Sherri holds me for a good long while after that, letting me cry my eyes out. It took about thirty minutes for all my emotions to play through.

"Are you okay to talk now, honey?"

"Yeah. Sorry for the meltdown. So, how did you know I told him?" Sherri whips out her phone and pulls up a video on YouTube. It's entitled Today Show Reporter Gets Reamed Out Because He Doesn't Know His Shit.

I watch the video, rooting for Aaron the entire time. The reporter was being kind of an asshole, asking the worst questions he could think of. Like I did at the press conference. But at least I didn't call him a selfish bastard. I knew all about how he participates in philanthropic efforts. But then he said it, and I knew exactly why Sherri rushed over here to find me. And, once again, my emotions are going crazy.

One on hand, I'm honored that he created a foundation under his name, honoring his memory. But, on the other hand, I am pissed as hell he did this without even asking me if it was okay.

Sherri could tell that I wanted to be alone to process this, so she let herself out. Without thinking, I whip out my cellphone and dial his number.

"Hello?" Fuck. He answered. I was hoping to get his voicemail.

"What the fuck? You create a foundation in my brother's name without even asking me?" I guess angry Nicole is going to speak first.

"I know. It was stupid. I should have asked you first." He sounded sincere. Dammit. Actually hearing his voice, shaking with fear, makes it harder to stay infuriated.

"Damn right it was stupid. But, I do appreciate the gesture. Thank you. I love the foundation, just hate that I wasn't informed."

"I understand. So, can I see you tonight?" Fuck, no. I'm a fucking basket case tonight.

"No. It’s been a long day. I just want to…" He cuts me off.

"Have you been crying? Goddammit. I'm such an idiot. Am I the reason you were crying?" I smile. I truly did appreciate his concern and his remorsefulness.

"No, it's not your fault."

"Then, since I wasn't the cause, I'll come over and make it better."

Before I can object, Aaron hangs up the phone.