"You don't have to do this, you know. You're smart. Pretty. You graduated in the top of your class at the University of Houston. You were always the one to make the best decisions. And you don't really need the money. I just… I don't know what to say."

"I'm getting paid thirty thousand."

"That's it?"

"A month."

Silence, once again.

"…and my boss' office has the best view of the city."

"Did you have sex with him?"

"No. No. It isn't like that."

"Are you lying? Something is up I can tell by your tone change."

That's the only thing that sucked about Abbie. She knew me. She knew me so well that she could tell if I was lying even with hundreds of miles between us. Even if I wasn't telling the whole truth, she knew. Abbie could read me like an open book.

"Are you sure you didn't have sex with him?"

The question made me flush.

"What? No!"

"Would you?"

"No! I would never do that, Ab. I can't. He's my boss and… I've agreed to sell my virginity."

"You are a dirty, little slut."

Yesterday I would have let him throw me across the floor and make me his rug. He could have slammed me against the window and fucked me crazy in front of the city. I would have let him. I was so turned on, he could have done whatever he wanted with me. But the rules stated: immediate termination if one fell in love with another employee or client. It never specifically stated anything about having sex with another employee. But is sex ever really just sex? The stupid girl movies didn't think so. As long as I was an Elite, we were both equally unavailable because he was my fucking boss.

Critical thinking skills kicked into overdrive, and I had to stop before I drove myself off the crazy cliff. It was all a bit complicated.

More silence passed, and Abbie spoke up. "I'm just messing with you. Chill out."

We laughed about the rumors floating around Mid-County and Abbie's last semester of school.

"Hey, after graduation, you should move up here. I should have a place of my own by then."

I smiled at the thought of her being here. If Vegas could suck the wild out of me in less than a week, when Abbie arrived, I would completely lose all straight-edged inhibitions.

Between the two of us, she was the beauty, and I was the brain. Mischief was her middle name, or should have been. Abbie would do anything to get a rise out of people or to steal the spotlight. Trouble to her was like a flame to a moth. Being drawn to that type of behavior, while being surrounded by Sin City, was a slush pile of madness waiting to happen.

"Vegas couldn't handle me," she finally said, half-jokingly.

But could she handle Vegas?

"If you're still there after I graduate, I'll move. I miss you."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

A promise from Abigail Green was as good as gold. She only had four months until she graduated. I knew I would still be here at that time. But before I could say another word, three knocks pounded on my door.

Knock-knock-pause-knock.

"Hey, Ab. That's a deal. Four months and you'll be here."

I looked through the peephole, and there stood Mr. Hands-in-my-pants.

"Shit, it's my boss," I lowered my voice.

"Your bossy boyfriend?"

"You have no idea how bossy he is, and he isn't my boyfriend. Actually he's a huge asshole."

"Whatever you say. Take care. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That's saying a lot, considering."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

"Nothing. Gotta go. Love you."

"Love you too, sis."

I quickly slipped on my bra and panties and rushed around looking for my clothes.

"Open the fucking door."

Damn. Most of my clothes were packed in the dirty laundry bag, and I didn't have time to search through my closet. I heard another knock, knock, and on the pause I swung open the door before Mr. Felton's hand could give the third.

"One sec. I need to get dressed."

I tried to close the door, but he moved his hand in the way and let himself in.

"I'll wait inside."

He studied every part of my body, stopping at my breasts, then trailing down my flat stomach before meeting my eyes.

"Why are you here?"

"You know what they say about women who wear black lingerie?" He leaned on the doorframe.

"Not exactly."

"It means they want someone to see."

"To be fair, I wanted to get dressed. But you insisted."

"That's what they all say."

"So why are you here?"

"Today you leave this coffin of a room. You're moving into my house."

"Excuse me? What if I don't want to?"

"Then you shouldn't have signed the contract without legal advice, Ms. Downs."

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for me to get dressed and pack my bags. I double—and triple—checked to make sure nothing was left behind. But no matter, the forgetting-something feeling always persisted. I hummed Fly Me To The Moon in the bathroom while I brushed my teeth and then stopped, and thought I heard Mr. Felton humming it as well. I had found myself humming a lot since yesterday. I peeked my head from the bathroom door.

"Oh, you know that one? You're telling me you aren't completely dead inside, and you actually listen to music?" I said with a mouth full of toothpaste foam.

"No one is that dead inside."

"My favorite part is the beginning."

As I slipped on a summer dress and packed my toothbrush away, Mr. Felton stood.

"You're going to be bad for business, you know?"

I swallowed hard, and he grabbed my two bags.

"….Because you make me wait while you lollygag around. Ready?"

I nodded, and we left the room and made our way to the elevator.

"I can keep a better watch on you in the house. Make sure you don't do anything ridiculous. You seem to be a hazard."

"At least I'm not toxic," I whispered and looked into the hotel mirrors watching every movement he made. I thought I saw a smile creep across his face.

I dropped the room keys in the little box and checked out of the hotel. The woman handed me a receipt, winked at Mr. Felton, and then smiled. He returned the gesture. Pure sex appeal on legs and a freak behind closed doors, just my virgin luck.

Outside, the sight of the black beauty parked in front made me gasp. I ran my hands over the curves of the hood and fully took in the Aston Martin Vanquish. V12. Zero to sixty in 4.1 seconds. Zero to one hundred in ten. The way I lusted over cars, and speed and fresh leather wasn't normal. I should have become a mechanic.

"I think I've fallen in love."

Mr. Felton watched me and laughed.

"Most women say that to me."

"I was talking about the car?"

"This? This is my baby, and I am quite keen on her."

He smoothed his hand over the body of the car. "This is my V."

He pulled the keys from his pockets and clicked the button. Her car horn lightly honked twice, and then he placed my bags in the trunk.

"Come on, baby. I'm going to take you on the ride of your life."

I didn't know if he was talking to me, or the car, and it didn't matter. Mr. Felton didn't have to tell me twice. I slid onto the mocha-colored seat and buckled myself in. The smells of Mr. Felton and the soft, smooth leather with double stitching filled the car.