“This is not happening again.”

The woman who propositioned me in the dark hallway outside the bathroom squints down at my still deflated package, which quite frankly is not a good feeling. What man wants a woman to have to squint to see what he’s working with?

Not me. And truthfully that’s never been an issue before. Some people are just blessed in the third leg department. I was lucky enough to be one of them.

But right now, she’s squinting. Hard. Like, searching for a needle in a haystack hard. What is she searching for you ask? Not my cock. That’s large and in charge and currently held snug in her tight grip. What she’s searching for is what my cock is supposed to be doing right now. That’s right. She’s searching for my hard-on. Which apparently fled the building as soon as she got me behind closed doors.

Humiliation mixes with panic and I take a deep breath. The last time this happened, it was the prior weekend on a date with a woman I met at the coffee shop. I’d paid for her mocha cappuccino and she’d responded by writing her number on the side of my cup. We’d gone to dinner at a new restaurant near her place and she’d invited me up so I could be her dessert. Which would have been the hottest thing ever if my dick hadn’t decided to take a nap as soon as she took her clothes off.

Time to focus. I direct all my energy and attention to the source of my current frustration. He’s never let me down before recently. All I have to do is figure out what’s blocking him from performing. I’m here with a beautiful woman who has her D cup breasts gloriously unrestrained and ready to pop out of her strappy little black dress at any moment. She’s ready, she’s willing and we’re alone. Perfect recipe for success.

But when I look down at the soldier in question. Nothing.

“Fucking hell,” I mutter in disbelief.

“It’s okay,” she assures me. Which is a nice thing to do since in her position I’d be pissed off. Then again she seems like a nice lady. What was her name again? Justine? Jasmine? Jessica?

“It happens to the best of us sometimes,” she continues. “You’re so fucking hot, I figured I’d take my shot before you left. I heard your co-workers mention you’d be leaving soon.”

Under any other circumstances, the mention of my co-workers would be the ultimate buzzkill but not today. Because dirty thoughts about one of my co-workers in particular is to blame for why I’m standing in the middle of the women’s bathroom at a bar.

Mya Taylor. Rival ad executive, leading scorer in my wet dreams and titanium ball buster extraordinaire. A. K. A. the hottest woman I’ve ever met.

And she hates me.

My cock stirs at the thought of her which should give me hope but instead is just maddening. With dawning horror I realize that my suspicions are true. The same thing happened last weekend. I couldn’t get him up when I was with Brittany but as soon as I went home and saw a work related email from Mya, instant party in my pants. Clearly it’s not that my rooster won’t crow, but he’s suddenly developed a preference. For women with the ability to derail my career and also make me feel completely inadequate at the same time.

For Mya.

Oh no, I think down at the offending appendage. You do not get to react to the thought of that she-devil.

Not that he listens to me. When it comes to thoughts of Mya Taylor, my cock rarely listens to me. He’s violated the no-imagining-Mya rule everywhere from my shower to my dreams at night. Apparently this traitor doesn’t care about my future, my career or my sanity.

The door to the bathroom rattles and then crashes open. As if thoughts of her have summoned her directly to the source, Mya fills the doorway. Her eyes widen slightly when she takes in my naked ass pressed against the bathroom counter and the scantily clad brunette who still has my limp Judas in her hand.

Except he’s not limp anymore.

As my eyes take her in, every synapse in my brain fires in delight. Mya’s parents are from the Bahamas and she has the whole “I’m a radiant and sun-kissed goddess every fucking day” thing going on. She tosses her long braid over her shoulder before glaring at me. It’s as thick as rope and jet black. The millions of bangles she always wears clack mockingly as she moves.

God damn the woman drives me insane.

But she also turns me on which is evidenced by the instant steel injection that takes me from limp noodle to solid baseball bat in less than 2.5 seconds.

“Look, it’s working!” Justine-Jasmine-Jessica squeals and punctuates the statement by bouncing up and down.

Mya looks between the D cups threatening to punch me in the face and my solid ten inches. Then she glances up at me.

“Seems I’m interrupting,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t want to do that.”

Her words echo even after the door swings shut behind her. And my dick deflates like all the wind beneath his wings just followed her out of the room. Because that’s the way he’s been operating lately. He only gets hard for the one woman who wounds my ego as if it’s second nature. And takes pleasure in doing it.

I know she seems nice but don’t let the sweet smile fool you. She’s evil and no doubt already thinking up some way to use this situation against me.

Then the door swings open and Mya pokes her head back in. “Miss? I’m sorry to interrupt again. What’s your name?”

“Jessica,” the brunette squeaks timidly.

Mya inclines her head to the woman still holding my dick as formally as if they were meeting at a business conference. “I thought so. Your boss is looking for you. But I can stall him another few minutes or so.” Her lips curl up into a wicked grin as her eyes slide over to mine. “I’m sure it won’t take much longer than that.”

Then she lets the door close again leaving the two of us alone with my rapidly softening dick and a whole hell of a lot of awkwardness.

Do you see what I mean now?

Pure. Evil.

* * *

Despite the interruption, Jessica was still game to continue if you can believe that. But Mya’s parting words struck the final death blow to the dick engine that couldn’t. I stuffed him back in my jeans and vowed to get the hell out of there before I did something really stupid.

Well, more stupid than banging the bartender in the bathroom during a company sponsored Happy Hour.

I follow Jessica back out into the dark hallway and luckily we’re saved from any awkward post-not-quite-sex talk by the appearance of a big burly guy.

“Jessica? Where the fuck have you been? It’s crazy out here!”

He’s a big guy but the way he’s talking to her immediately puts my back up. But before I can intervene, Jessica puts her hands on her hips.

“Seriously, Mark? It’s been like 90 seconds. Calm down.”

When she says that, he glances at me and smirks. Okay so much for sticking up for her. I think Jessica can take care of herself. I mumble a quick “see ya” and walk back down the dark hallway to the bar. It’s one of those places that keeps the lights low not just for ambiance but to disguise how shitty everything looks. Several televisions hang around the room blaring a basketball game and there’s about a hundred more people crammed in here than there was before I snuck off to the bathroom for what should have been a quickie round of fun.

There’s not much fun about discovering that your equipment is out of service so I approach the bar to settle my tab.

But before I can get there, I’m stopped by a peal of laughter coming from the corner of the bar. Mya stands with a few of our other co-workers taking delicate sips from the beer in her right hand. Funny, I never knew a succubus could consume human food.

“What can I get for you?”

The other bartender, a guy who looks barely old enough to serve alcohol, has a white towel slung over his shoulder and a permanent scowl on his face. By the crowds of people waving for his attention, I can understand why he’s pissed. Jessica bailed and left him alone to deal with this.

“I’ll have a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”

He nods briskly and then moves on to the next person, taking orders while he’s pouring. My beer is thunked on the bar unceremoniously before he moves on down the line.

A hand lands on my shoulder. I don’t have to feign surprise at the sight of Seth Barrington, venture capitalist and richer than God, sitting on the bar stool next to me.

“Whoa! You made it. Should I get my camera? I never thought I’d see you sitting in a dive bar amongst the unwashed masses.”

He chuckles and raises one finger to get the bartender’s attention. And just like everyone else in Seth’s life, the bartender rushes to do his bidding. But before he can get there, Jessica steps in front of him. It’s like I suddenly don’t exist. Now she’s only got eyes for Seth. Not that I’m surprised. He’s dressed in a suit that probably cost as much as my car and the guy even smells like money. I can see the dollar signs in her eyes from here. She’s fishing for a bigger catch now.

“Hello, sir. What can I do for you?” Her voice is sultry as she twirls a lock of hair around her finger and sticks her chest out.

Seth barely blinks. “Macallan 25. Neat.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. We actually don’t carry that. We have Johnnie Walker.”

He starts to say something else but then glances over at me. “You know what, never mind. Just water. And bring my friend another of whatever he’s having, please. Thank you.”

Jessica glances over at me and her smile drops slightly. “Of course. I’ll be right back with those.”

Once she’s gone, his grin stretches across his face until it almost eats his face. “Dude, I could feel that tension. Is she an ex?” He frowns. “Or a not-yet-ex?”

I shake my head. “She’s an it-never-happened. Don’t ask.”

“Right. Not asking.” He looks around the bar. “It’s been a while since I’ve just… hung out.”

At his words I resolve to invite him out more often, not just when I’m trying to impress my boss. He’s a good guy and over the past year of working together, he’s become more friend than client. The guy has it made but barely leaves his office. He needs to enjoy life more.

“I’ve been telling you to get out. You work more than anybody I know. And in the advertising world, that’s saying something.”

He shrugged. “Business is the same way. This is all I know. All this other stuff, talking, socializing, it might as well be a completely different culture. I feel like everyone’s speaking a different language.”

Something about the way he looks around the bar feels eerily familiar.

He’s lonely.

When I first moved to D.C. I was ready to take on the nation’s capitol too. Then I discovered how difficult it really is to move to a new place all alone. My brother and my mom are both back in New Jersey and even though it’s not that far away, it’s far enough. I threw myself into work, aggressively pursuing new clients for Mirage to prove to James that he made the right decision hiring me.

But those sixteen-hour work days come with a price tag. I know that better than anyone.

“Then let me be your translator. First, the bartender was hitting on you.”

Seth chuckles lightly. “Even I caught that hint.”

“Second, all of my co-workers are staring at your back because they can’t believe you’re real. I’m pretty sure most of them thought you were a figment of my imagination and weren’t really a client.”

He takes a surreptitious glance around the room before facing front again. “Center of attention. Got it.”

“And third, I’m going to get you drunk properly on cheap beer and then hopefully hook you up with someone who didn’t just have her hands down my pants.”

Jessica shows up then with a water for Seth and another beer for me. I slide mine over to him. “Take this one to get started.” I turn to Jessica. “And keep them coming.”

“Somebody should get laid tonight,” I mutter once she leaves. “Even if it’s not me.”