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myself with
    a file folder.
    “Screwing with the A/C in your office this time?” she asked with a smirk.
    I laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”
    “Don"t blame you.” She craned her neck to catch one more glimpse of him
    before he disappeared around a corner. “You"re the one who gets to stare at him for
    an hour.”
    “Yeah, and try to maintain some semblance of dignity in the process,” I said.
    “Not easy, my friend.”
    She put a hand over her heart. “Oh, I ache with pity for you.”
    We both laughed. Then I went back into my office and dropped into my desk
    chair. For a moment, I just stared at my desk, not even sure which task to jump on
    next. I had plenty to do and not enough time to do it, but damn if I could focus. I
    never had trouble concentrating at work, least of all because I was too busy
    entertaining racy thoughts about a longtime and respected client.
    Except it wasn"t just Clark. It wasn"t the new guy in accounting who stopped
    into my office to pick up some papers and inadvertently wander through a fantasy
    involving chocolate sauce. It wasn"t the pair of gorgeous models on their way down
    to photography after their combined presence made me seriously consider adding
    ménage a trois to my life"s to-do list.
    It wasn"t who I wanted; it was what I wanted, and that was dirty, sweaty,
    unbridled sex. Lovemaking was fine and good, and someday, when a man came
    along with whom I connected enough for that to happen, fine. For now? I craved
    sheet-mangling, shoulder-clawing, headboard-pounding fucking.
    I caught myself looking at the entire world around me in a different light,
    including my work environment. The stack of Xerox paper boxes in the supply closet
    would be uncomfortable as hell against my back or under my forearms, but wouldn"t
    that be hot? I imagined myself getting fucked over the conference room table or
    right up against the pull-down screen, bathed in the multicolored glow of the
    projected death by PowerPoint presentation. My own office chair was the perfect

    20
    Lauren Gallagher

    height for a kneeling blowjob, and I absolutely did not spend a single second
    mentally measuring my desk"s height in relation to my hips or those of any man
    who came into my office throughout the day.
    “What the hell is wrong with me?” I muttered into the stuffy stillness of my
    office.
    That was an easy answer. I"d tasted the kind of sex I"d been craving for the
    past few years, and now I wanted more. I wanted more, and it was still available for
    the taking. Money wasn"t an issue. I would, of course, schedule it on a night when
    the kids were at Michael"s. So why shouldn"t I? No one knew about last Saturday,
    and they wouldn"t know about the next one.
    So much for taking the edge off. Obviously it wasn"t a good idea to do it again,
    then. If it just made me want more and drove me to distraction, it was a bad idea.
    A bad idea, but a hot one.
    No no no. Once was enough.
    By the time I left the office that evening, I was in dire need of ten minutes or
    so alone, which I didn"t get until I went to bed at almost eleven. By the end of the
    week, ten minutes or so alone didn"t cut it anymore, even twice a night. By Sunday
    evening, I"d run out of reasons why a repeat session with an escort was a bad idea.
    So, after Michael came and picked up the kids, I made the call.
    And I requested Sabian again.
    Though he probably wouldn"t remember me from Eve, he"d be familiar enough
    to me to ease some of my nerves. I told myself there was no sense putting myself
    through the same “what the hell am I doing with a total stranger?” anxiety this
    time if there was a way to alleviate it. That, and I knew he could satisfy me.
    After all, Mama always said, if it ain"t broke…

    Damaged Goods

    21

    Chapter Three

    The hotel"s coarse wallpaper burned my shoulder blades, but Sabian fucked me
    too hard and too deep for me to give a damn. Every thrust meant more friction
    against the wall, but the only thing that mattered was