She wondered what Zane would do if she didn’t put the thong on. “He’ll never know,” she whispered, but at the same time, she knew he never did anything without a reason, and the rapidly emerging bad-girl in her wondered what his reason was.

At the least, she knew he would make her feel incredibly good when the last customer had left for the night and it was just the two of them. She still blushed at the thought of how she had let him penetrate her with the mouth of a beer bottle the previous night. Not that it didn’t make her scream with joy, of course, it was just that the whole thing seemed a little crazy.

Jolene was pretty sure that being with a good girl like her was a new experience for Zane, even though she was getting to be more and more of an ex-good-girl with every night she spent at the “Piano Man”. By the looks of the women who threw themselves at him night after night—trashy hair, too-tight jeans, caked-on makeup—she figured the only reason he was with her was because she was a novelty.

If his reaction to finding out she was a virgin that first night was anything to go by, he was definitely in uncharted territory. After his release, she could have sworn he was about to apologize to her for taking advantage of her, but she couldn’t stand to hear him say he was sorry about the best thing that had ever happened to her, so she kissed him before he could say the words.

She refocused on the thong she was holding between her thumb and index finger. “What the heck,” she said. “If he wants me to wear a thong, I’ll wear a thong. And he’ll be the only person who knows.”

It was a little exciting, she thought, for him to know she was hardly wearing any underwear underneath her ankle-length dress.

She slipped off her white cotton panties and pulled the small slip of material up around her hips. It felt as if there was something firm tucked up around her vagina lips, and she shrugged, figuring all thongs came with plastic in the crotch, for extra support, perhaps?

She walked back into the bar and handed Zane the plastic bag. He opened it, and when he saw her white cotton underpants lying in the bottom of the bag, he smiled. Jolene headed for the piano to warm up, and when she sat down on the piano stool she was distinctly aware of a pressure against her clitoris.

She stole a glance at Zane, and wondered if this is what he had planned for her, but he was on the phone and didn’t so much as look at her.

Jolene smiled a small smile and felt the tips of her br**sts tingling behind her white cotton bra. Now that she knew Zane wanted her to play piano all night for his customers with a solid reminder of what was to come later pressing against her already swollen flesh, it took a great deal of effort for her to concentrate on playing scales to warm up her fingers.

An hour later she was playing the chorus to Billy Joel’s “Piano Man”, which had just been requested by one of the regulars, when she felt something funny happening between her legs. She missed a note and then quickly covered with a vamp up the ivory keyboard to make it sound like she was playing Billy’s song wrong on purpose.

Then she felt it again, a quick jolt of energy pulsing against her clit. She looked up in confusion, but she didn’t lose her place in the song this time. Zane was standing behind the bar watching her carefully.

What the heck is wrong with these panties, she wondered as she played into the last rousing chorus of the song. Suddenly, the buzzing started up again between her thighs, but this time she knew that somehow, some way, Zane was manning the controls to her cunt.

As her ni**les grew rock-hard and incredibly sensitive, as her clitoris grew engorged by the stimulation of the vibrating thong, she played louder and louder, faster and faster, hoping the booming piano would mask the whimpers that escaped her as wave upon wave of pleasure shook her to her very core.

When the orgasm had finished ripping through her and she played the final line of the song, she paused for a moment to catch her breath, staring unseeingly at the song sheets in front of her.

She now knew two things for sure.

Zane Michels was, indeed, the devil.

And she, Jolene Mackenzie, had most definitely strayed onto the path of evil.

Candace saved her document and looked up through the window of her office just as the sun was rising in the night sky. She slumped back against her chair feeling equal parts pride and remorse.

On the one hand, she was writing the best damn erotica of her life. On the other hand, with every page she wrote, she felt guiltier and guiltier about abusing Charlie’s trust. The problem was simple: She may have promised not to reveal the content of their lessons to anyone, but once the words started to come to her, she couldn’t stop herself.

It was just how she felt when she was with Charlie.

Completely, utterly out of control.

* * *

Done with her writing for the day, Candace picked up the pile of bills and magazines and took them into the kitchen with her. The words EROTICA CONTEST caught her eye and she pulled the leaflet out from the stack of envelopes and read:

Do you have an erotic manuscript that would knock our panties off? If so, you should enter the 15th annual Erotic Writer’s Contest. If your manuscript makes it to the finals, your book will be read by a panel of top editors. A secret celebrity judge will present the winner his or her award, along with a $10,000 grand prize check! Enter now!

Candace usually threw contest solicitations out, but that was because she knew she didn’t have something that could win. The wheels started turning in her head.

“No,” she said aloud in her empty kitchen. “I can’t do it. It’s not right.”

The wicked little voice inside her said, Come on Candace. You know you’ve got a winner on your hands. Charlie will never know.

She tried to ignore the voice, but it just got louder, saying, This is the entire reason he agreed to be your mentor. Charlie wants you to become a better writer. After all, isn’t that the only reason why he’s sleeping with you?

Candace wanted to argue, she wanted to tell her nasty inner-voice that Charlie was sleeping with her because he cared about her, but in her experience, that was never what was really going on.

Using her past hurts as her guide, tapping into her failed love affairs to try and cover up the strong feelings she had for Charlie, she picked up her phone and dialed his number.

She needed to schedule lesson four, and fast. After all, she had a book to finish and there was only one way she could get the experience she needed.

In Charlie Gibson’s arms.