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her fingers into his own.  They were rough and raw from years of playing the drums, and they secured themselves around her wrist, telling her they were not going to let her go.  Not this time.  Not now. 
    “There’s a pre-set feature that you’ll like,” he said, drawing her in front of him.  Angela stared down at the machine.  She felt the full force of his body against her back and it made her tremble. Angela felt the baby hairs rise on the nape of her neck.
    “I’m afraid that I’m late for work.”
    Angela let the excuse hang out there, but they both realized that she didn’t truly mean it.
    “You can call in sick.”
    “You make it sound so easy,” she laughed.  Shane made everything seem so easy, even the way that his nose casually whispered over her shoulder, taking in her scent.
    “You still wear the same perfume.” His chin grazed her gold hoop earring.
    Angela flushed red. “I’m surprised you remember...”
     “I’m surprised you’d think I would forget.”
    Angela closed her eyes.  She had no idea what to say next or how the script was supposed to go, but she knew that Shane had never been this close to her before—close enough to smell his aftershave, close enough to feel the scrape of his sandpaper stubble against her neck—and she suddenly felt like it was all too much to bear.
    “Five years is a long time, Shane.  Maybe too long—”
    But before Angela could articulate the anxiety in her heart, Shane consumed her with a fierce, unrelenting kiss, the metallic ball of his tongue piercing rolling over her own tongue without restraint.  Their open-mouth kissing soon fell into a timeless moment of bliss.  For five long years, Angela had repressed her passion for him.  Now, her heart pulsed with fervor and anticipation.  She gave herself permission to lean deeper against Shane’s chest.  Shane followed her cue and snaked his arms tighter around her waist. 
    “I want you,” he whispered as she raced her fingers through his bleached blonde tufts of hair. 
    Angela had imagined Shane saying those words to her so many times that it was hard to believe that he was saying them now. 
    “I want you—”  he exhaled again, sucking her neck with ferocity, determined to take them both to the next level.
    Angela understood and unbuttoned his navy shirt and ran her palm along the smooth pectorals of his chest.  Angela had seen Shane’s bare chest before.  He used to rip of his T-shirt on stage and drum—sweaty and bare-chested—for the entire night.  Now, her nails clung onto his sculpted pecks, her palms firmly planted against his racing heart.  Shane’s hand crossed her shoulder blades, down the small of her back, and over her backside—the same way he would cover the entire surface of his drums when he rolled through a rhythm transition.  He engulfed her earlobe with his lips, then slid his mouth around her chin before plunging deep into her open neckline and devouring the satin cups of her sheer lace bra.  Yes, she wanted this … Angela pressed her hands against her kitchen counter as Shane pressed his whole body against her own.  He was indulging in her tits with long, penetrating sucks, and there was no little voice in the back of Angela’s mind telling her that it was wrong.  The only thing running through Angela’s mind was the tingling sensation between her legs as Shane’s hand swept under the folds of her dress, up the back of her thigh, and circled over her front of her silk panties, Shane’s fingers forking over her crotch. 
    God, yes … Angela raised her knee higher and pushed her pelvis deeper against Shane’s hand.  She unbuckled his belt and forced her hands deep into his button fly jeans, feeling his bare erection.  He wore no underwear.  Over-worked, under-sexed, Angela Castello had officially become exactly like one of the spontaneous fashionista models in CHIC magazine, and there was nothing that could interrupt the fantasy of the moment