I go into the townhouse through the back entrance, not wanting to cause too much of a fuss. I don’t need the footman, the bellman, the doorman and the various members of the staff to stop what their doing and set it down to wish me a happy birthday today. I don’t want to be a bother to them.

Besides, if I really wanted to give myself a birthday present, I should try and do what I’ve been doing the last three days since the incident with Lance and I on the couch. That is, to avoid him completely.

Although in my case, the only way I’ve been able to avoid him has been to spend as much time away from the house as possible.

It’s doable. With Michael’s campaign not getting into full swing for a another couple of weeks, it gives me time to myself.

Sounds easy enough, right, hun?

Nope. And before you get upset at me that I may have tricked you into answering, please let me just say that I love the fact that you’re here and listening to me. I’ve never had someone like this who I could talk to about anything and everything.

Even my girlfriend from college who I met for lunch at 40 Carrot today for yogurt couldn’t understand what I was complaining about.

“So he doesn’t fuck you, this Michael,” she said as we began to scoop our yogurt and looked at the people walking into and out of Bloomingdales. “You better count your blessings, girl.”

“It’s not that, Cheryl,” I told her with a sigh. “It’s just that Michael seems to despise not just having sex with me but everything about me.”

“I don’t know, girl,” she says looking at me. “Why would he do everything you say he did to marry you if he’s not even going to talk to you or try to paw at your beautiful body? And don’t tell me it was to win some election.”

But that’s exactly what it is, I think to myself as I replay Cheryl’s words as I walk into the darkened townhouse. That’s exactly why he kept me around. The optics of a beautiful wife are much better than being single.

Oh, right, I forgot to mention that I went to lunch with Cheryl to celebrate my birthday. I officially turned 36 today. Married to a man who doesn’t love me. In a marriage that I can’t get out of.

Well, I guess it could be worse. Mom and dad are probably pretty aware of the fact that I’m not going to be able to give them grandkids anytime soon. So thankfully they don’t hassle me about that.

But still, I’d like to be able to someday. I don’t know if that’s something to realistically plan for anymore, though. Not with Michael at least.

I walk through the darkened house. Michael is probably at a work function or a campaign related event. I don’t know where Lance is. But that’s more of a relief than a worry.

If Lance were here, I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself. Not today, of all days.

That’s when a single light goes on in the living room. I turn around and gasp.

I really should make sure things are as they are before telling you about them.

Because there stands Lance, in front of the window overlooking Carl Schurz Park. I didn’t spot him at first because it was dark, but I see him quite clearly now.

He’s standing next to a table with two glasses of champagne and the bottle in a chilled ice bucket. Next to the bottle and ice bucket is a multi-layered tray, holding an assortment of delectable items—canapes, chocolate covered strawberries, grapes, mini-quiche.

I gasp.

“Happy birthday, Jocelyn,” he says, taking a glass and walking up to me.

I hadn’t expected this.

I hadn’t expected anything.

“How did you know?” I manage to ask as he walks up to me and hands me the glass. “I never told you.”

I can smell his cologne. I can feel the warmth of his large, hard body as he stands next to me and we clink our glasses before taking a sip.

“Come on,” he says teasingly. “You’re a fucking public figure, I looked you up on Wikipedia,” he says to me with a smirk.

I blush. I don’t know what to say. What does a girl say in this instance?

“Oh?” I manage, completely off balance. “And do you Wikipedia everyone you know?”

Lance shrugs. I was curious.

That’s it. My mind is spinning at a mile a minute.

Why did he look up my age? To see if anything with me was appropriate? Could he be interested in me?

Well, of course, he must be interested in me. I had his cock in my hands the other day. I was sitting on his lap. Making a fool of myself.

“Hey,” Lance says, taking a step closer to me. He bends his knees, bringing his face more on level with mine. “You okay?”

I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears away. God, does he know just how much I want him? How when I leave the house to go to the gym nowadays I keep imagining his body that day that I saw him working out? How every spare moment I think back to Central Park and nestling my head in his chest after he rescued me.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him, shaking my head and opening my eyes and trying to smile. “I’m just sad I’m growing old,” I lie.

He takes my champagne glass from my hands and places it on the table. While there he pushes something on his phone and the speakers in the living room come to life, playing soft, smooth, simple jazz.

“Age is just a number, Jocelyn,” Lance tells me. “It’s what you do with your life that tells people how old you are.”

“And when did you become so wise?” I ask him with a teasing smile as he comes close to me once more. “You don’t sound like the Lance Anders I know.”

“Is this what you fucking want?” he asks me and takes another step closer, looking down at me from his height.

I giggle. I can’t help it.

“The one who takes what he wants and doesn’t let the word no stop him?” I ask, batting my eyes.

I don’t know if I’m the one who takes the step closer or if it’s him, but all of a sudden I can feel my body pressed into his.

It feels so right, feeling my breasts press up against his chest. Feeling his arms encircle me. Once having made contact, I want more. I can feel myself pressing against him as I continue to look up at him.

“Why did you do all this, Lance?” I ask him, the thought going through my head that this is some elaborate prank for some reason. I don’t know why I’m thinking it, hun. “Why the whole fancy setup?”

“Why the fuck not?” Lance growls down at me, looking at me with smoldering eyes as we start to sway to the gentle music in the background. “It’s your birthday, Jocelyn.”

“I’m your stepmom,” I say back to him.

I don’t know why, okay? I don’t know why I feel awkward around him, when he’s done something so sweet as put together this surprise for my birthday.

Fine, fine, you got me, it’s not awkwardness I’m feeling. It’s nervousness. I’ve seen his giant cock. And I want it inside of me.

But standing here close to him, as he holds me, I’m starting to feel something different too.

What is it?

“No, you’re not,” Lance replies back. He’s calm. He’s collected. “Tonight you’re just a woman, Jocelyn. And I’m just a man.”

What exactly does that mean?

Are we just a man and woman who are friends? Relatives? Lovers?

God, I can’t believe I had his cock in my hands. Through his jeans, but still.

Why can’t I just close my eyes and enjoy the moment? Why am I trapped in his stare, looking up at him and only vaguely aware of the world around me?

“I’m so much older than you, Lance,” I whisper. “And I’m really sorry about the other day. We can’t let something so crazy ever happen again.”

It’s true! Can you believe the scandal involved with something like that?

He brings his face closer to me. “Don’t be fucking sorry,” he hisses. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

What? He can’t get me out of his head?

“That’s sweet,” I say to him, my panties melting as I think back to being on his lap, legs wrapped around him, looking at his cock. I can tell I’m more than wet at this point. If Lance wanted to take me, I don’t think I would stop him.

No, I most definitely wouldn’t stop him. I’d spread my legs and let him pull my thong down. Then I’d wrap my legs around him as he put that giant cock inside of me. His eyes would go wide at what I’d do and say. I’d be the last thing from boring to him.

“What are you thinking?” Lance asks me, a smirk playing across his face.

“It’s a secret,” I say with a coy smile.

“I think I can guess,” he tells me. I squirm my body against him a bit more. His cock is hard and it’s rubbing against my inner thigh. It feels so good.

“What, then?” I ask, hoping beyond all hope that he’s in my head. “Don’t keep a lady waiting.”

“You’re no lady,” he says with a grin and as I give him a mock pout, I see that he truly is in my head. Because he leans over and brings his mouth to mine.

And we kiss.