I open my eyes and run one hand through my hair as I sit up on the bed. Fuck, what time is it? I look at the bedside clock, the screen showing 2:07 pm in red. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up on fucking time and—fuck, I almost have a heart attack as someone fucking stirs under the sheets. Then, a tuft of blonde hair peeks from under the covers and Natalie’s smart eyes look into mine. Oh, right, that happened. Guess I’m not late after all, uh?

After our early morning adventure—a fucking vigorous cardio session, I’d say—I wrapped Natalie in a large cotton towel, dried her off, and then carried her into my bed. She was gone the moment her back hit the mattress; to be honest, so was I. It’s rare for it to happen, but after being with Natalie I was fucking exhausted; she really brought out the best in me.

Of course, that doesn’t stop my cock from twitching as she pulls the sheets down, showing just a glimpse of the curves of her breasts.

“Hello there,” I tell her with a smile, and her eyes seem to widen at the sound of my voice. She sits upright on the bed, clutching the sheets against her chest, and bites on her lower lip. Oh, fuck, I can already tell that she has never had a one-night stand before. I should have fucking known… The way her innocent eyes seemed to flicker whenever I looked at her gave it way. Ah, fuck it. I guess I have already gotten her off the straight and narrow path she was on, but what can I fucking do? It’s not my fault I’m fucking irresistible.

“The meeting,” she stammers, looking at me and biting her lip again, “we have work to do.”

“We have lots of work to do, love,” I tell her, reaching up for her and tucking a stray lock of hair over her ear. She trembles as I touch her, but that doesn’t fucking stop me from leaning into her and laying a kiss on the corner of her mouth. I grab at the sheets, pulling them down her body, but she grabs my wrist and stops me.

“That’s not the kind of work I’m talking about,” she tells me, a serious expression taking over her face.

“But it could be,” I shoot back, pulling the sheets down my body. Her eyes dart straight to my cock, which is already as hard as a fucking boulder, and her face turns red. Looking away, she jumps out of the bed and starts looking around for her clothes. Ah, well, fuck it. “Here, let me get you some clothes. Yours are all wet.” I get up from the bed, completely naked, and go straight for the wardrobe. I keep a stock of ladies clothes there—from dresses to underwear—and they have proved handy more than once. It seems that most women I bring here end up with their clothes being torn off of their eager bodies.

Grinning, I grab a small lace thong and a matching bra, and then pick a tight short dress. I know she’ll find it too revealing, but that’s exactly what I want. What? I’m a fucking asshole; you know that.

“There you go,” I tell her as I hand her the neatly folded clothes. She takes them in her hands, and then looks into my eyes, waiting.

“Can you turn around?” she asks me, the sheet still covering her naked body.

“Do you have to?” I grin at her. Seriously? I can’t fucking believe she doesn’t want me to see her naked… I mean, I did more than just see her naked moments ago. But I turn around all the same, patiently waiting as she dresses.

“Okay, let’s go,” she says as she walks past me and into the corridor, already wearing the dress, the fabric hugging her curves so tightly I almost salivate. “We’re late and there’s lots to do.” I follow after her, but then she stops, turns on her heels and looks at me with a frown. “Connor… God… Could you please put some clothes on?”

“I’m wearing my best suit, love,” I tell her with a grin, and I can notice her struggling to keep her eyes focused on mine. Inevitably, she steals a glance at my tattoos and naked muscles, her face reddening again as she finds my hard cock.

“Please,” she repeats sternly. Sighing, I grab a pair of boxer briefs and pants from the wardrobe, and I put them on. By the time I get to the living room, still shirtless, she already has her laptop propped up on her knees, the hem of her dress revealing her toned legs. Fuck, isn’t she beautiful?

I sit right by her side and lean back against the couch as she looks up at me, a shy smile on her lips. “Ready?” she asks me, and I nod with a grin. I’m always fucking ready, maybe not for work, but definitely for more interesting matters. “Okay, so… As you know, your public image has taken a few hits over the years. There’s the drinking, the partying, the diplomatic carelessness, and… and…”

“All the fucking I do,” I complete her sentence.

“The womanizing,” she corrects me, frowning again. “So, I think that we should start by holding a press conference where you admit your failures and vow to do better. Then, we can venture into some public and visible volunteer kind of work, so that people start seeing another side of you.”

“What about the drinking? And the partying? And the… womanizing?” I ask her, grinning like the fucking bastard that I am.

“You’ll have to cut it off. All of it,” she tells me, “especially the womanizing,” she adds as an afterthought, and I’m not entirely sure if she’s talking from the perspective as the woman I’ve just fucked, or as Natalie, the PR consultant.

“Oh, sounds fantastic; I can’t fucking wait,” I start, irony dripping out of my words. “Is that all?” She looks down at her folders, then at her laptop and back to her folders.

“That’s all.”

“You sure came a lot earlier just to tell me that…” I tease her, looking straight into her eyes. She purses her lips, sighs, and then looks back at me.

“You know… I had much more than this planned, but after… after the sex… It’s not like I can remember all of it.” Even though she’s talking in a slightly awkward way about what happened earlier in the morning, there’s a slight smile on her face. A fucking good omen, at last.

“Sex amnesia?” I chuckle. “Let’s hope that won’t happen the next time,” I tell her, and I can see the gears turning inside her head as she tries to decode my words. Next time as in next meeting, or next time I fuck her? That really depends on her, doesn’t it? You know what I’d fucking answer to a question like that. “Look, why don’t we have lunch next Tuesday? It’s Sunday, so you should be enjoying the rest of your weekend, not working. We’ll pick up where we left off by then.”

She smiles at me, more relaxed than before, and nods. “Thank you,” she whispers, and then closes her laptop and places it inside her bag with the folders. She gets up from the couch, and I follow her to the door, opening it and standing to the side as she looks expectantly at me.

Now, I can’t fucking help myself. I lean in for a goodbye kiss and, at the same time, she reaches for me with the palm of her hand. Reacting instinctively, I shake her hand while I press my mouth against hers. Fucking smooth, right? Alright, this was fucking awkward… But it was totally worth one final kiss.

She smiles, her cheeks flushed, and clutches her bag against her chest. She looks like innocence incarnate, her bright eyes and full lips the epitome of fucking perfection. I’ve fucked top models, actresses, and even Olympic athletes (the hot ones, how do you like volleyball?), but I don’t think I’ve ever come across a woman such as Natalie. She seems so fucking simple… and, at the same time, so fucking beautiful.

“You have to go now,” I tell her, looking serious. She arches one eyebrow in surprise, and then I grin. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to fuck you again.”

I can’t fucking wait for Tuesday.