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a figure that wouldn't quit. So what was his problem?
    Aware that he stared at me while everyone around him argued, I pulled a pin from my hair and let my auburn curls cascade around my face and neck. That got the guy's attention. I saw his Adam's apple bob in a convulsive swallow, but wasn't sure what it meant until he put a hand on Mrs. Williams’ elbow, stopping her we-desperately-need-this-sale tirade midsentence.
    "All right, already. I'll do it."
    Yes!
    He got up and walked to the showroom entrance. I greeted him with my warmest smile and my extended right hand. “Hello, Mr. Dawson. I'm Lakota Rawlings. May I call you Thorn?"
    "Sure.” He coolly shook and released my fingers.
    "Thanks for helping me out tonight."
    "No problem.” His demeanor actually said big problem . I could tell he wanted nothing to do with me.
    I tried not to reveal my excitement. “I understand you're a designer."
    "That's right."
    "With degrees that make you damn good at what you do."
    "I like to think so."
    "Excellent.” I set my purse on the couch and walked over to the windows that gave us a view of the work area and them a view of us. I gave a pageant wave to our gaping audience, then pulled the chain that controlled the vertical blinds currently pushed all the way to one end. In seconds they spread out, covering the window and effectively blocking us from voyeurs. I didn't mind being watched. I simply didn't want to freak out Thorn, who, I suspected, might.
    I next locked all the doors.
    Turning, I flicked a stray curl out of my face and walked over to the first creation I came to, some kind of divided bench with what looked like a hot pink dick mounted in the middle of it. Closer examination revealed that the dildo could be controlled by what looked like a handlebar—my kind of sexercycle.
    "This looks simple enough. One of your designs?"
    "Yes."
    "Mind if I try it out?"
    He shrugged. “Be my guest."
    After slipping off my jacket and draping it over my designer bag, I stepped out of my stilettos and kicked them to one side. That left me wearing a modest white blouse and a black skirt that hit me a few inches above the knees. A glance to my left revealed Thorn watching me with narrowed eyes. I could tell I hadn't turned him on yet...but it was early.
    I walked around the bench, trailing my red fingernails over the black leather cushion. “What's this called, anyway?"
    "The Lonely Fuck."
    I laughed to show I got it. “Okay. Here goes.” With my eyes on my nemesis, I pulled up my skirt to the waist and then pulled down my thong. When I stepped out of it, I caught my toe in that scrap of lace and expertly flicked it on top of my jacket.
    Thorn crossed his arms over his broad chest and looked at me in disbelief.
    "Got any lube?” I asked.
    "Not in my pocket."
    "Would you ask around and see if someone else has?"
    "Hell no."
    "Then I'll need you to lick my pussy, please.” I sat on the couch and spread my legs, revealing my neatly trimmed patch.
    Thorn took a step back. “Are you for real?"
    "And then some."
    He shook his head. “I'm not going to do this."
    "Why? Are you married?"
    "No."
    "In a relationship?"
    "No."
    "Gay?"
    "Fuck no."
    "Then what's your problem? All I want from you is a little spit right here.” I pulled apart the pink lips of my pussy and pointed. “Is that too much to ask?"
    He didn't answer. Was that a good sign or a bad one?
    "Maybe I should call your boss...?"
    Thorn glared at me. “Call away. I'm not scared of that bitch."
    I sighed. “Sorry. Didn't mean to yank your chain.” Especially when there's something else I'd rather get hold of. “I'm just reluctant to buy anything I haven't tried myself."
    "What do you need the Lonely Fuck for, anyway? A woman like you can have any man she wants."
    "Oh, I don't know about that. You're playing pretty hard to get."
    His amber eyes widened slightly. “You want me?"
    "Why else would I strip and spread my legs? You're my kind of guy, Thorn. Tall, lean, totally