Alex Bahscot's Books

                                                    The Lover's Workshop

                              

                               Book 1 in the ‘Dear Roz’ Romantic Comedy Series

                                                                 Prologue

          To Roz's relief, the shower water left 'freezing' and moved to 'comfortably warm' before sliding back in the temperature direction of Antarctica. Shivering, she left the confines of the shower and staggered across to the medicine cabinet. Rozlyn Rook, women's advice columnist, amongst other attributes, stared at her reflection in the mirror. The fragile sleep deprived face staring back at her sure as hell didn’t suggest a take-no-prisoners go getter. She made a mental note to strike any more  school reunions from her future 'to do' lists. She courted the possibility that the tequila shots were her undoing, but also acknowledged several other alcoholic culprits that probably shared equal blame. Her tongue felt like a Chinese paddy field after a two year drought. Never again. Roz opened the cabinet door and searched for her personal preference in hangover pills. She took out a plastic bottle that had been renamed 'never again pills' in black permanent marker ink and emptied the last couple of capsules into the palm of her hand. Her mind was lost in the events of the previous night.

          Why did she agree to go? School reunions are lame. So why go? Martin Bishop, that’s why. Back in high school, he was a senior with the looks of a young movie star. As a rule of thumb, movie stars don’t date girls with metal braces on their teeth and so it was with a young Rozlyn Rook. He dated Wendy Burnside. Big boobed blond cheerleader, Wendy Burnside. What made it infinitely worse was that Wendy knew Roz had a crush on her boyfriend. Now, it was more of a curiosity factor. She just wondered if he looked the same as when she last saw him.

          Since leaving school, Roz had blossomed. Her hope was that Martin would attend the reunion and see the real her. Childish, she knew, but it was what it was. Martin didn't turn up. Wendy, on the other hand, did. Her last name was now Bishop. She made a point of letting Roz know that Martin was at home, looking after their two kids. The sly smile and the not so sly glance at Roz’s mouth, let Roz know that Wendy hadn’t forgotten the past, or who had taken home the prize. Roz took a minor consolation in the fact that Wendy's boobs were starting to droop, whereas hers were still as perky as young puppies.

          Now she was at a loose end. The temptation was to leave early, but she couldn't stand the thought of Wendy guessing that Martin was the only reason she attended the damn thing. She bounced from one group to the next, refilled glass in hand, pretending to catch up with old times. Damn Wendy Burnside-Bishop for being one of the last to leave. Never again. Thank goodness last night was in her rear view mirror. 

           With a towel wrapped around her, she retreated into the kitchen. Black coffee helped wash the pain pills down. Ugh! Lukewarm coffee poured over a dried up paddy field. Disgusting. How long had she been in the shower? The shrill ring tone of her house phone cut through her brain like a surgeon's scalpel. She grabbed it up before a second ring could make her head explode.

"My boyfriend's cheating on me," a voice shrieked into her right ear.

Roz dropped the phone and clutched her head in both hands.

"Are you there? Roz, are you there?"

Nausea threatened to help blemish the kitchen tiles. A frail Roz eased down and picked up the torture device. 

"Nishka, please don't talk any louder than a whisper."

"I want to scream.”

“Fight the urge, please. My brain is a maze made of paper-thin glass and my hearing would put a dog to shame.”

"I'll do my best, Roz," her niece replied, "but Mark is cheating on me."

“You have confidence issues, Nishka. As in you have none. Twice before Mark stood accused of the same offense and twice was exonerated. It's just your imagination working overtime."

"I might have agreed, but this time I overheard him talking to some slut on the phone."

Roz collapsed into a seat. "And what exactly did you overhear?"

"He said, I have something special for you, or something to that effect."

"I recognize that conversation."

"You mean it's happened to you as well?"

"Not the way you think. And what did he say after that?" 

"He saw me looking and shut the door, which is why I'm in his apartment while he's on his way to work."

Roz massaged the back of her neck and was grateful that the urge to vomit had receded.

"What exactly are you searching for?"

"Nothing. I've cut the left sleeve off his favorite shirt and I'm addressing the rest of his wardrobe now."

Roz's eyes opened wide. "Do not cut up any more of his stuff."

"Why are you taking his side? You weren't there. You don't know what went down. How can you possibly defend him. He's a no good lying, cheating low-life scumbag. I gave my heart to this asshole and he is scheming on me while I'm still in earshot. I at least expect you to side with me, Roz."

"Mark is and always has been faithful to you, Nishka."

"Bullshit, and furthermore, I left him a message on his phone telling him about his ass, right after I cut six inches off the leg of his favorite pants" 

"You did what?” Roz raised one hand and clutched her forehead. The nausea was returning.

"Yes. I used my cell phone to leave a message on his phone in the next room. Serves his cheating ass right."

"Listen to me very carefully, Nishka. Erase that message, right now. Right now. Do you understand?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I'm the woman he was talking to, Nishka." 

"You’re cheating with my boyfriend?” 

"Mark was asking my advice about what he could buy to surprise you."  

"What?"

"Did you think it was coincidence that you and I ended up in that jeweler's shop four months ago? Why do you think I was asking your advice on what ring looks the best?"

"I don't follow."

"He was saving up to buy you an engagement ring, Nishka. You're not supposed to know, but you've given me no choice but to let you in on our secret."

"He's going to propose to me?" 

"Yes."

"When?" 

"Tonight would be my guess. Are you going anywhere special?"

"He was taking me to that new fancy restaurant on Beethoven Drive, but that was before he phoned some other slut. Sorry. I forgot for a second. What am I supposed to do, Roz?"

"Shorten the other pant leg by the same amount and suggest that he must have grown since he last wore them." 

"Really? And his shirt?" 

"Take the evidence away from the scene of the crime."

"Seriously, Roz. You're supposed to know these things. You're a women’s advice columnist for heaven’s sake, and I'm a woman." 

"You're a psychopath, Nishka."

"Don't change the subject. I need advice and I need it now. What would you do in my situation?" 

"Well, getting rid of your voice message comes first. You could come clean. A lot of men would feel flattered that the idea of them cheating would push their girlfriends over the edge." 

"Those pants were a gift from his mother." 

"So coming clean's not an option?" 

"Not in this lifetime."

"If the pants disappeared, how long before he might notice."

A moments silence. "About nine hours, give or take." 

"Tell him you put them in a dry cleaners for him along with his shirt and another item or two. Tell him you had never used this particular dry cleaners before. Some items came back okay, but the pants and shirt were ruined. They'll pay for it."

"They will?"

No, Nishka. They as in you. 

“Right! Is that your best advice? 

“If I was giving Mark advice, I'd say, run don't walk. Since it's you, my best advice is to tell the truth.” 

“So, I don't tamper with the answering machine, then?” 

“What exactly did you say?” 

“You don't want to know.” 

“You're probably right. Nonetheless, erase it. Not every man wants to marry a psychopath, and Nishka?” 

“Yes?” 

“Treat Mark like a good man deserves to be treated. If you think something is amiss, broach the subject right away. Don't allow it to fester and don't jump to conclusions. We women are supposed to be smarter than men. You're making us look bad.”

“I don't think that's a fair comment.”

“No more Edward Scissorhands shit, okay?”

“Okay.”

“One more thing, Nishka.”

“What's that?”

“Act surprised when he pops the question, cos if you don't, I'm going to make what happens to you look like an accident. Capiche?”

“I can't believe that any newspaper actually pays you to give advice.”

“Goodbye, Nishka.”

“I'll give Mark your regards.”

“Don't.”

“Why not?”

“Because this conversation never happened.” 

“Right. What if there was a fire that destroyed the whole apartment?”

“Nishka!”

"I was joking, Roz. Lighten up, for goodness sake. Here's what I've decided to do. I'm going to erase the message on his answering machine and then tell him his pants and shirt got destroyed at a dry cleaners. What do you think?"

“I think Mark's going to blame me for the rest of his life for not warning him about you.”

“Listen, Roz. I can't spend all day talking to you. A girl has to get her tush in gear. You do understand, don't you?”

“Goodbye, Nishka.” Roz put the phone down and went in search of more pain pills.

Chapter 2 - Office Talk

First floor of the Smart Women magazine building

Employees gave Sue Peoples a wide berth as she stormed through the building. The sea of bodies parted and then reformed behind the magazine’s ace critic. She slammed her office door shut and snatched up the telephone that was guarding her in-tray.

“That bitch is dating Ted," Sue screamed over the phone. "She's dating my fucking ex!"

"Just one thing, Sue," said Kendra, her hand covering her ringing left ear, "deaf editors are rarely in demand. Try screaming before you call me rather than during. Deal?"

"Ted is much too good for that psychology major, matchmaking harlot, who writes such tripe in that over-priced rag pretending to be a newspaper," Sue ranted, lowering her voice not one octave.

"Assuming we're talking about Roz again, she has a huge fan base who adores her and her 'Agony Aunt' column.

"She's not getting Ted," Sue stated, stabbing Rozlyn’s latest column on the desk in front of her with a knife borrowed from the cafeteria.

"Didn't Ted dump you?" asked her publishing editor.

"Misunderstanding on his part over something I said.”

"You called him a cock-sucking asshole, in a fit of pique, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Well, it doesn't."

"No?"

"No. I never use the word asshole if douche-bag is still available. Besides, I said it in the most charming inoffensive way."

Kendra let out a sigh. "Let me guess, your charm went unrecognized."

"Hard to believe, isn't it," Sue said, as she obliterated the parts of the column that hadn't already met an untimely end.

Ted was everything Sue wanted in a man. Well, almost everything. He was tall, charming (most of the time) and owned his own graphic design company. He did, however, have this one annoying fault. He failed to realize why she was always right, and he--bless his heart--was always wrong. His ideas weren't bad, just not as profound as hers, but could he see that? She had some truly great ideas about graphic design which she was sure would help him reach the next level, a phrase all executives seem to covet. Yet, he had the nerve to suggest that perhaps she didn't grasp certain criteria with respect to his field of expertise.

"He doesn't seem to grasp the concept that as a seasoned critic," Sue said to Kendra, "I  dissect issues and find their weaknesses, so that they can be turned into strengths."

"So what you're telling me, is you get absolutely no satisfaction in tearing people down every week in your column."

"Good heavens no," said Sue still murdering Roz's latest written work.  "Don't get me wrong Kendra, when I feel that the target of my ire is taking the piss, then wrongs have to be made right. The guilty have to suffer for their misdeeds."

"So make her suffer."

"What do you mean?"

"Critique her work."

"You mean use my column to criticize hers?"

"Not at all," said Kendra, her voice lowering as if to pass on a secret. "She runs several two- day seminars a year founded on the basic premise of matchmaking, am I correct?"

"So?"

"So, you join one of her matchmaking clinics designed to attract the man of your dreams. Then, when it all goes sour, you get to expose her to her readership as a failure, and a fraud."

"Why are you so sure it would go sour?" Sue’s brow furrowed.

"Because you're an absolute bitch, darling. If you weren't so valuable to my magazine, I'd probably kill you myself."

"You're suggesting that I can't hold on to a man?"

"No darling, I'm saying that an eighty year old deaf and blind man with one foot firmly in the grave, would dump you inside of a month."

"This eighty year old man," Sue’s eyes narrowed, "is he rich?"

The click of the call’s disconnection from her editors end didn't faze Sue in the least. Editors in general had no manners, and everybody who was anybody knew that. The seed Kendra had planted, however, was taking root. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She would join one of Roz's two-day seminars, and pretend to go along with the program, but when it came down to crunch time, she would hang that boyfriend stealing sack of shit out to dry. She glared down at the stabbed-to-death article. If the police saw what little was left of it, they would immediately have put out an APB for Freddy Krueger. The phone contact number was unreadable. She would have to buy another paper. Shit! Talk about adding insult to injury.

Chapter 3 – How’s me English accent, ma’am?

Offices of the Daily Voice Newspaper

"Roz, is your article anywhere near ready? We go to print in two hours girl. Hustle, damn it," Sabrina urged over the phone. "I swear that girl is responsible for my high blood pressure," she said to Maxine, her assistant.

"Has she ever missed a deadline?" Maxine asked. A few seconds later, she added, "I'll take your silence as a firm no.”

"That's not the point."

"That's exactly the point," replied Maxine.

"What surprises me the most," Sabrina’s gaze moved to her assistant, "is that nobody has ever called her out on the shit she writes. That girl is provocative."

"You're forgetting Nathan Knight," Maxine replied.

"Ah yes, the men's answer to our own 'Dear Roz' column. Have you ever met him?"

Maxine feigned ripping her clothes off. "Take me Nathan, ravish me, do to me whatever your heart desires," she gasped, squeezing her breasts.

"He's that handsome?"

Maxine grabbed Sabrina by the lapels of her jacket and pulled her close. "I would sell your soul for one night of crazy sex with Nathan Knight. Does that answer your question?"

"But you wouldn't risk your own soul," Sabrina replied.

"I have more to live for than you," Maxine said, as if the question were insane. "You're an old married woman. Life is over for you, but I, on the other hand..."

"Four years older, Missy, I'm not exactly ancient," answered Sabrina, prying herself loose from Maxine's grasp.

Maxine fished into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a piece of paper, neatly folded. Carefully she opened it and handed it to her colleague.

"OMG, this is Nathan?"

"Don't look at it for longer than thirty seconds, or you will start to leak," Maxine warned.

"How long has it been in your back pocket?" Sabrina asked, casting her gaze up and down the shirtless photograph of Nathan Knight.

"Two years, but it comes out every night, if you know what I mean."

"Eewgh!" exclaimed Sabrina, handing the photo back using only her thumb and forefinger.

"Did you check out those stomach muscles rippling under the surface? What about his chest hair... or his eyes? Sooo dreamy."

"Put it back in your pocket Maxine. This is a leak free zone," Sabrina said, a grin plastered all over her face.

The phone rang and Sabrina picked it up. "At last," she said, "let me see the soft copy please, Roz. Thanks."

Maxine gave the editor one of those 'I told you so' looks.

"It still has to be proof read and formatted," said Sabrina, the exasperation evident in her tone.

"I'll meet her halfway," Maxine said, heading for the door.

Sabrina scratched her head, and rotated a pencil between her fingers as she thought about Roz and what she brought to the table. Twenty-four years old and single but dating, Rozlyn Rook had almost immediately impacted the sales of the newspaper. Women seemed to love her caustic 'no bullshit' advice about men and how to tame them. Sabrina smiled as she remembered how Nathan Knight from his 'Nathan Knows Best' column had written about how Roz didn't know her arse from her elbow. English men could be so eloquent, even in prose. Tongue-in-cheek, Roz had used humor to match him, barb for barb. She wrote a reply in her column to a fake question from an 'English gentleman' supposedly begging her to help him get his American sweetheart back.

Roz and Maxine joined Sabrina in her office, jarring her out of her thoughts.

"Roz, have you ever met your English counterpart, Nathan Knight?" asked Sabrina.

"What brought that up?" Roz said, her suspicion radar beeping like mad.

"Just answer the question, please."

"No, I haven't, and I hope I never do."

"Thought not," said Sabrina, taking the article from her and casting an eye over it. She glanced up.

"Whining like a neutered puppy? I thought you were supposed to be bringing couples together, not pointing out poor Fred's shortcomings?"

"Best if you don't read four lines further down, then," Maxine grinned.

Sabrina skipped over a few lines and burst out laughing.

"You have an evil streak in you Ms Rook, but you're damned funny, I'll give you that."

"Thanks boss," said Roz. "Need me for anything else?"

"No, but don't pull a Houdini on me. I might need your input on something."

"Righty-ho," said Roz in her best English accent. "I'll be in me office twiddling me thumbs and waiting for her majesty to summon this here poor girl."

"Out," said Sabrina, pointing to the door.

"Jolly good, ma'am. Right you are. Sorry about all that, ma'am. Consider me gone, your ladyship," mimicked Roz, bowing continuously as she backed out of the door in an apologetic manner.

"Don't look at me," said Maxine as Sabrina turned her head. "That is one wild horse that can't be tamed."

Sabrina shook her head and set about the immediate task at hand. Sales should be good again this week.

Chapter 4 - Best Friends

Offices of the Daily Standard Newspaper

"Have you finished the assignment I gave you yesterday, you English prick?" asked Franco Profilio, second generation Italian/American and editor-in-chief of the Daily News newspaper.

"I'll remember that remark when I'm climbing off your wife, Franco," replied Nathan Knight, a British subject, turned American resident. He stretched in his chair, easing his aching back.

"Not a chance buddy, she doesn't like ugly men. Are we still on for drinks later?"

"Did you get your wife's permission? I wouldn't want you getting into any trouble."

"What it is to be single," sighed Franco.

"You are full of Italian shit, Franco. Yvette is a treasure and you know it. Good thing you found her before I did."

"It was you who introduced us you idiot, and yes, for that I can never repay you. She's my world."

"That's what I do, Franco. Bring people together. Have you seen how many followers I have on Twitter? I'm guessing you're probably thinking about giving me a raise."

"Guess again. There's more chance of me buying you a ticket on the next Titanic."

"Are you two love birds still going at it?" said Betty Smith, breezing into the room. "Anybody but me would think you two were mortal enemies. I've never heard of close friends abusing each other verbally as the two of you tend to do. You remind me of school children."

"Do we need to be punished, Miss Smith?" asked Franco.

"Can I go first?" said Nathan, lowering his head to peer through his eyelashes. "After all, you are my assistant."

"Does Mrs Profilio know about your inclinations Franco?" inquired Betty, ignoring Nathan completely.

"You'd be surprised," he replied with a boyish grin.

"The whole world would be surprised," Nathan chipped in.

In one smooth motion, Franco stood up out of his chair, picked up a newspaper from the desk and smacked Nathan on the back of the head with it. "Don't forget my assignment, buddy," he said, as he made his exit.

"I'm just about to start it," Nathan called after him. "Betty, is my tee time confirmed?"

"Nathan, you have exactly twenty six minutes to get halfway across town to your golf club. Do you really believe you can make it?"

"I'm wondering what I'm going to do with the extra six minutes," he said, checking his watch before disappearing at top speed. Ten seconds later, his head popped back through the door. "Betty, be a dear and start that assignment for me, would you?"

"You still owe me from the last favor I did you," she replied.

"Love you," said a rapidly departing Nathan.

"You wish," Betty called out after him. At first Betty had hated him, mostly because he was English, and English people always thought they were so superior to everybody else. She felt sure he would look down his nose at her, if for no other reason than she was a lesbian. But he didn't. It took her only a short while to realize that his sense of humor was sarcastic, but funny. He took no offense if he was made the butt of a joke, but laughed as loud as anyone. His comments could be brutally honest, but as for her sexual preference, it was a non-issue. It wasn't long before they shared a mutual respect. However, he did seem to relish taking all the credit, but sharing the blame. She still hadn't figured out if it was a deliberate ploy to wind her up. English people enjoyed winding people up. The thought brought a wry smile to her face.

Chapter 5 - The Peoples Critic

First floor of the Smart Women magazine building

"Pick up the phone and make the call, Sue," said Kendra, sitting on the edge of Sue's desk and tapping her foot against the table leg.

Sue snatched up the phone and punched in the numbers written at the end of Roz's daily column.

"Hello," said a very pleasant woman's voice, "Rozlyn Rook at your service. Please state your name and the reason for your call."

"Answering machine," Sue whispered to Kendra while holding one hand over the mouthpiece.

"Rozlyn Rook here, how may I help," said a no-nonsense voice, just a few seconds later.

Sue took a deep breath. "Sue Peoples here Ms Rook. I see that you are holding one of your clinics in a week's time, the last week in February I think."

"So sorry Ms Peoples, that class is booked out. I don't take more than seven students at any one time. I do have a spot open in my September clinic though. Should I pencil you in for that one?"

Sue had not anticipated this, but recovered quickly. "Ms Rook, I work for the magazine 'Smart Women' and I want to publish a column about your clinics. I hear your success level is very high. Kendra Smart, the owner and editor of the magazine speaks very highly of you."  She mimicked a gesture--for her bosses benefit--that suggested she was stroking Roz's ego.

"What is your angle Ms Peoples? Do you simply want to sit in and observe the clinic? I'm not sure my clients would appreciate that."

"Not at all Ms Rook," Sue said, her voice full of anguish. "I have just lost out to another woman in the love stakes, and I'm eager to improve my chances of finding a replacement."

The line went quiet for several seconds and Sue thought that Roz had hung up on her. A frown crossed her features.

"Hello?" Sue said.

"Ms Peoples," Roz cut in, "Your reputation precedes you. I've read your column from time to time and--"

"And?" Sue said, desperation creeping into her voice, as she  realized the prize was slipping away.

"And I'm not sure I can help you."

Sue put the conversation on speakerphone for Kendra's benefit, and she looked over at her boss for inspiration.

"Why do you say that, Roz. May I call you Roz?"

"Ms Peoples, please don't take this the wrong way, but your column always strikes me as very... negative."

"Ms Rook... Roz," Sue said, laying on the wounded animal routine, "most of the time, my boss forces me to take on unsavory assignments."

Kendra Smart almost choked on the mouthful of coffee that should have been navigating its way down her throat.

"Very rarely does the soul sucking vampire let me address assignments that would show the real me."

Kendra clasped her hand over her mouth and reached for a paper towel. 

"Roz, I'm begging you. Let me do something that would help me and at the same time satisfy the old bloodsucker." Sue winked at her boss, whose face couldn't have looked more horrified had an expert told her that the priceless jade collection her aunt Hattie had left her, was fake.

"Your opinion of your boss isn't very high Ms Peoples. I've never met Ms Smart in person, but--"

"Don't get me wrong Roz, Kendra Smart is a lovely person, but she knows that people love to read negative news. The problem is that I'm the one that always has to do her dirty work." Sue gave Kendra a grin and a thumbs up. Her boss did not return the gesture.

"Roz," pleaded Sue, "this is the first chance in a really long time that I have an opportunity to take on an assignment that would make me happy. Please don't say no. A good review would do you no harm either." And a viciously negative one would fuck you right up.

Once again, the line was absent any reply. Sue crossed her fingers and screwed her eyes shut. She knew this was crunch time.

"Very well, Ms Peoples. I will make an exception for you. Please understand that there will be seven other ladies there that want to get their money's worth from the clinic."

"Eight ladies will be hoping that you can make a difference in their lives Ms Rook. Thank you so much."

Sue pressed the button to end the call and gave her boss a self-satisfied look. "She charges seven hundred dollars for the two days. Can you cut me a check?"

"Who is the blood sucking vampire now, you cheeky bitch," said Kendra unable to face a second mouthful of coffee.

"You know I didn't mean it, Kendra."

"You didn't appear to be too upset as you were saying it," grumbled the owner of the Smart Women magazine.

"My back was against the wall boss. I had to be convincing."

"Enough of this topic, Sue. You still have a review to write about the mortuary and two of its attendants. You have three hours."

"Those two might as well be floating corpses," Sue said.

"Come again?"

"They're both dead in the water. Their remains will be served up within the hour."

"That's more like it, Sue. Paint a black picture for me."

"My favorite color," Sue replied, gazing into the distance.

Chapter 6 - Cruella De Vil

Offices of the Daily Voice Newspaper

"Roz, how long have we been friends?" asked Maxine, her brow furrowed.

"At least two weeks, why?"

"Very funny Roz. Have I ever given you bad advice or led you astray?"

"You mean apart from begging me to double date with that Venezuelan mercenary?"

"Be fair Roz, my date gave me no clue that his brother was a soldier for hire. And before you say it, I agree. Him using a commando knife to cut up his steak in a fancy restaurant was a little over the top."

"What about the time you talked me into letting your sister hold a party at my apartment."

"What kind of neighbors call the police just because they thought they smelled weed?" asked a rather peeved Maxine.

"And what kind of person throws up into a fully stocked freezer?" Roz inquired.

"The kind that can't find the bathroom in time?" responded Maxine, trying her best to be helpful.

Roz pointed at her friend, nodding her head and snapping her fingers in unison. "What's his name. You know the one," Roz accused Maxine. "The one who kills and stuffs dead animals."

"I just knew you were going to bring that up. However, he doesn't kill them, they are all dead on arrival."

"You said he was a doctor for goodness sake."

"Doctor, veterinarian, taxidermist, all professional people Roz. Besides, he did a lovely job with Mrs Miller's pet poodle."

"There are three more incidents that come immediately to mind, Maxine."

"Hey! It wasn't my idea to hide that fake rooster's head underneath your sweet and sour chicken."

"Make that four."

Maxine walked around the desk that separated them. "I think we're getting a little off track here, Roz. I wanted to address you letting that psycho Sue Peoples into the next clinic you're holding. That woman is the Black Dahlia and Cruella De Vil rolled into one. What were you thinking?"

"What was she thinking about what?" asked Sabrina striding in through the open door.

"I agreed to take Sue Peoples into my next man hunting clinic," said Roz. The magazine’s chief editor stopped in her tracks.

"I only know of one Sue Peoples," said Sabrina. "Please tell me it's not the same one I'm thinking of?"

"That's the one," Maxine replied. Pointing at Roz, she added, "you can't afford to subscribe to that magazine. Do you know why?"

"Because it's called Smart Women?"

"Exactly," said Maxine, and what you agreed to was not smart. Not at all."

"Do you want to weigh in, boss?" asked Roz, turning to face Sabrina.

Sabrina turned her gaze on Roz. "Who are you dating right now, Roz."

"Who? You know who. Ted, the guy who owns a graphic design company. You met him two days ago when he came to pick me up, remember?"

Sabrina perched on the corner of the desk beside her. "Three weeks ago I attended a charity function," she said. "Tons of newspaper people there. Awful affair. Guess, if you can, who was sitting at the very next table? Full marks if you were going to say Sue Peoples," she continued, not waiting for a reply. "Her boyfriend was sitting next to her, hanging on to her every word. His name was Ted."

"My Ted?"  Roz asked, the smile sliding from her face.

"Her Ted at the time apparently. He dumped her for you, would you believe."

"And now she's asking to join your workshop," added Maxine.

"Do you think she might have an agenda?" Sabrina asked. "She's a vicious critic Roz, and like it or not, people listen to what she has to say."

Roz looked from Sabrina to Maxine and back.

"You, young lady, are dancing with the devil," said the editor-in-chief as she strolled back out of the door, closing it behind her.

"You have the look of a person who just stepped barefoot in road kill," observed Maxine.

Rozlyn's hand slid down to her stomach. What was it Sue had said to her on the phone? That she had just lost out to another woman in the love stakes? Roz found herself gazing down at a floor that refused to come into focus when a knock came at the door, and a junior clerk entered.

"For you, Ms Rook," he said, handing over an envelope before leaving. Roz stared at the envelope in her hand, her name written on the front. She glanced up at Maxine who merely raised her eyebrows. Roz tore it open.

"It's a check for seven hundred dollars, made out to me, courtesy of Susan Peoples."

"Whoa! That was quick. A particular quote comes to mind Roz."

Roz looked up.

"You can't change the cards you are dealt, only the way you play the hand," said Maxine. "You're holding one shitty hand right now," she added.

Chapter 7 - A Gentle Ribbing

Offices of the Daily Standard Newspaper   

Franco's voice jerked Nathan out of a daydream. The phone had rung and Nathan heard Franco talking to someone in the background of his office. He waited patiently for the busy chief editor to deal with whomever it was.

"Nathan, how is my favorite columnist?"

"I wouldn't know Franco, but I'm almost finished today's effort if that's what this call is all about." Nathan heard Franco chuckle.

"Read it to me, Nathan."

"What, the whole thing or the last of the reader's questions?"

"What was the main topic of today's episode, you English twit."

"That's very European of you Franco. Must be the Italian side of the family showing through. Did your wife tell you that she showed me the photo of you in your high school band regalia?"

Silence.

"I'm not entirely sure which article of clothing you wore was my favorite. Was it the silly hat, or perhaps the two pom-poms on the top of each shoe?"

"Fuck you, Nathan, that was the uniform at the time. I had no choice."

"Don't get all bent out of shape, Franco. You looked very pretty. So pretty, in fact, that I asked Yvette if I could have a copy. It will be given a prominent position in my work space."

"She wouldn't dare!"

"She looks upon me as the brother she never had, Franco. Call me 'Sire' for the rest of the day and we'll forget your ill chosen slip of the tongue, okay."

"You're bluffing, you bastard," Franco replied, with little conviction.

"Was I bluffing when I showed your wife that photo of you creeping out of the ladies toilet in Amsterdam?"

"The gents was full. I was desperate."

"How desperate are you now, Franco?"

Silence.

"I'm not going to read it out to you, my favorite Italian peasant, but I will send it over shortly. How does that sound?"

"Just send it over."

"Your voice sounds all choked up Franco. Like a man embracing a double hernia. You have to learn to relax my friend, and don't forget to breathe."

"I want that piece on my desk in five minutes or less."

"Or less... what?" Nathan waited as the seconds ticked by.

"Sire."

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?"

"Five minutes, you cock sucker."

Nathan leaned back on his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. "Life is good Betty," he said to his assistant, who was busy at the far side of the room.

"You've finished the piece then?" she asked.

"Half an hour ago," Nathan replied. "If I had told him that, he would no doubt have found more work for me."

"You mean, for us," said Betty.

"Betty my darling, how can I repay you for completing that last assignment for me. If I hadn't known otherwise, I might have thought that I had written it myself."

"Your credit is good with me Nathan, but I think you should at the very least buy me a meal at a swanky restaurant sometime soon. Very soon."

"And you shall have it my dear. You make the arrangements and tell me about it later. Oh, be a dear and take this over to his nibs, would you?"

Betty would have been happy if she could be sure he would turn up for the promised restaurant meal. Nonetheless, she lived in hope. She picked up the finished article and started idly reading it as she made her way to the door. She slowed, then stopped as she read Nathan's written piece. The topic had been about responsibility in a relationship and why it was important. After his nicely crafted reply, Nathan had added an example of what he meant by responsibility. He admitted that he himself had wanted to play golf when he should really be attending to an assignment for his boss. The responsible thing to do was to ignore his desire to play golf and buckle down to his assignment, and he would have, had  his assistant not agreed to write the article for him. The responsible thing for her to do was to refuse his request and indeed insist that he be more professional. She had failed him in his hour of need. Nathan had been watching Betty read his column. The smart thing to do was to ease out of his chair and put as much furniture between him and his assistant as was possible. If nothing else, he was smart. Betty's stare found him trying to look insignificant behind a desk and two chairs.

"Now Betty, I know what you are probably thinking," he said, holding his arms up in surrender.

"Tell me what I'm thinking, boss?" replied his assistant, rapidly closing the gap between them.

Nathan backed away from the desk, but took one of the chairs with him, keeping it between himself and his colleague.

"Explain to me how I let you down in your hour of need," she said, waving the offending script up in the air.

"Betty, I lost all three bets to my playing companions because I had insufficient time to prepare for my game. You knew that, but didn't stop me. Not that I'm holding you entirely responsible. I freely admit my part in the... Betty, paper knives can be more dangerous than their name suggests. Put it back down and let's talk about this like adults, okay my love?"

"You are going to do two things Nathan. First, you are going to erase the part where you are blaming me for your irresponsibility."

"Done," said Nathan, "give it back to me and in ten seconds it is gone."

Betty picked up a heavy phone book easily in one hand, a fact not lost on Nathan.

"Find the number for Carl's, the latest gourmet restaurant that opened barely three months ago and tell them that you want a table for two for nine o'clock tonight."

She casually tossed the brand new three inch-thick book onto the chair in front of her boss.

"Nine is a perfect time to eat. I am so glad that you came up with that idea. I'm starving, how about you?"

"Make the call, Nathan."

"I want the very best seats," Nathan said into the phone. "I don't care who booked them already, this is important. Thank you."

Nathan stood up to his full height. "Betty my love, I shall pick you up at eight fifteen. Don't keep me waiting," he said, giving her a coy smile.

Betty returned his smile, then handed him the paper to be altered. Giving the distance between them the proper respect, he moved around her and made the necessary adjustment on his computer and handed her the amended copy.

"Thank you Nathan, my love," she said and flounced out of the room.

"No, thank you," he replied, watching her neat figure disappear from sight.

Chapter 8 - Dinner and a Proposal

Carl's Bistro

"What time is it?" asked Betty as she perused the dessert menu for the third time.

"After ten," said Nathan glancing around Carl's Bistro. "Good call on picking this restaurant Betty. It's been ages since I've enjoyed a meal as much as this one."

"I like the cage effect," responded Betty alluding to the bird cage theme that surrounded them with a feeling of intimacy. "The vines that cover half of the cage look and feel as if they belong in the jungle."

"So I'm off the hook, then?" enquired Nathan.

"Your slate is wiped clean," replied Betty. "How long it will stay that way is anybody's guess," she added.

 Nathan returned his gaze to Betty, able only to see her eyes and the top of her head over the menu she held in front of her.

"Betty, what do you know about Rozlyn Rook?"

Betty lowered the menu immediately and a puzzled expression replaced her previously calm one.

"Are we talking about the Rozlyn Rook who dispenses advice about men in a daily column?"

"That's the one," confirmed Nathan, attempting to give the impression that he was merely instigating small talk.

"What's your interest, Nathan?"

"I hear that she runs two-day clinics, promising the participants that they can catch the men they are chasing. Is that true?"

"Are you thinking of signing up?" replied Betty, tongue-in-cheek. A grin spread across her boss’ face.

"I think you know me better than that," he replied.

"Not necessarily, but you are in a position to persuade me otherwise. I have a friend who has a crush on you. This friend of mine won't put up much of a fight if taking advantage of such a person was your objective."

"That doesn't help," he countered. "I like a good fight. Makes me feel like the battle was worth winning, so to speak. What's her name... just for interest's sake?"

"Derek," came the reply.

"Moving on," grinned Nathan enjoying his friend's wit.

"Do you think that Rozlyn would put up a fight?" Betty asked, matching his grin.

"Good heavens no. I've never even met the woman. She might be sporting a mustache for all I know."

"In that case, I'll ask you again. What's your interest?"

"This might sound a bit strange," said Nathan, glancing around at the lattice work as if for inspiration, "but I was thinking about doing the same kind of thing... only for men. What do you think?"

"From what I understand about her clinics, Nathan, she has a relatively high success rate. Even the ladies that fail to catch the men that they pursue have nothing but good things to say about her and her seminars. Could you guarantee a high success rate with your version for males?"

"That is the million dollar question, isn't it?" he replied frowning.

"Then don't guarantee the result."

"Go on," said Nathan, keen to hear his assistants take on the subject.

"Run a clinic saying that you will definitely improve the lucky participants' chances of landing their women of choice." Betty put down the menu and her tone turned serious. "Let's face it Nathan, men are dogs. If the woman of their dreams says no, but the ugly sister takes a shine to them... they're happy."

"That is a truly awful judgment to pronounce on us men, Betty. I'm deeply disappointed that you should hold the male species in such low esteem.” Nathan looked down and shook his head before raising it. “You are of course one hundred percent correct in your analysis though. Most men wouldn't consider having to make do with the second or third choice as a failure, would they?"

"I was thinking more like victim twenty-seven might still be considered ideal."

"Your views are both disturbing, but at the same time, probably accurate. How would you like to help run such a clinic Betty?"

"As what, exactly? A secretary organizing everything, say for ten percent of the profits?"

"Ten percent is good, but I was also thinking about your participation as the object of these men's affections in a role-playing kind of way."

"No, never. Forget it."

"They don't get to touch you in any way, merely to practice small talk and body language."

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you, Nathan."

"Perhaps thirty percent of the profits would be a fairer deal, Betty."

"Sorry, no can do."

"Forty then, but you have to dress seductively."

Betty narrowed her eyes as she studied Nathan's face. "Nathan," she said at last, "I know you probably don't mean to be offensive, but lesbian women are not bisexual. We don't wish to be touched by men, especially in a sexual way. On top of that, most women I know would consider it demeaning to be used as a guinea pig on whom men could practice their seduction skills. Pay for the services of a hooker if you must."

Nathan closed his eyes and nodded. "Forgive me. My mother often said that I only opened my mouth to change feet. This was obviously one of those moments. I still need a secretary, though, if you're interested."

"Fifteen percent," said Betty, "and that is non negotiable."

"I disagree," replied Nathan. "You'll take twenty percent and like it."

"Just for the record," she said, "have you any idea of the consequences if my girlfriend found out that I was being fondled by a man?"

"She wouldn't believe it."

"She might... if she thought it was you," answered Betty, her eyes carrying a worried look.

"Does she know we are wining and dining together tonight?" asked Nathan.

"Would you believe me if I said she was jealous when I told her?"

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to. I could see it in her face."

Nathan reached forward and took Betty's hand in his. "I promise not to disrespect you, or your girlfriend," he said, a solemn expression lending weight to his statement.

"What do you think you are doing just now?" asked Betty glancing down at his hand holding hers.

"Aagh!" exclaimed Nathan, releasing her hand and throwing himself back in his seat as far from her as possible. "Naughty hand." He admonished the culprit at the end of his arm, smacking it several times as he did so, "Am I forgiven?"

"You are such an idiot, Nathan," said Betty laughing. "The sooner I find you a wife the better."

"I thought you liked me?" protested her boss. "What kind of friend issues such a threat?"

"You've been warned, Mr Knight. Disregard my statement at your peril. Dessert?"

"Lost my appetite, but I'll indulge in a glass of the amber nectar."

"Good idea," said Betty, signaling a waitress. "Let's suck down a couple of whiskies to celebrate our future business arrangement."

"Good grief woman, one doesn't suck down a whisky. One lets it coat one's palate on its gentle journey to its final resting place. You are, without any doubt, very American."

Betty leaned forward, scrutinizing Nathan's face, a recent habit of hers. "Did a Scotsman advise you of the proper way to imbibe one's whisky?"

"As a matter of fact, one did," said Nathan with the air of one who has insider knowledge of such affairs, "seconds before he sucked it down."

"You need a wife, in the worst possible way," reiterated Betty shaking her head.

Chapter 9 – 50 Shades of Yay

Roz's Workshop - Day 1

Roz looked upon the eight women in front of her. Eight lonely souls looking to her to banish their solitude. To help them find their man, hopefully their soul mate. Eagerness to learn, projected from seven of the eight participants. Jealousy and anger dripped off Sue Peoples, barely masked by her smile. Still, perhaps the learning process could help redirect those traits. A bad review, on the other hand, from a well-respected critic, could damage this lucrative and enjoyable sideline Roz had created for herself. A food critic could kill a restaurant business in four hundred words. How many words might Sue use to describe her workshop?

As soon as the ladies settled into their seats, Roz began her presentation.

"Desire starts in the mind, ladies. Never forget that. It is the key to everything, as far as men are concerned. Men are visual creatures. They see something they want, then they go after it. Your job, is to help them see that what they want... is you, and that is exactly what I'm going to teach you today."

The participants showed their desire to glean this knowledge in several ways Some nodded in quiet agreement, others clenched their fists and rapped their knuckles on the desks in front of them. Sue's hand was in front of her mouth. She had a secret she didn't want known, but her eyes said that she too wanted to learn.

"Was this building once a school of some sort, Ms Rook?" asked one of the ladies.

"Marcy, isn't it?" asked Roz.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't know why the school closed, Marcy, but it was very fortuitous for me, I have to say. There are three consecutive classrooms in this building. I picked this one, on the end, for one reason. It has the worst view. I don't want you fine ladies to pay attention to anything other than myself, and I have no intention of competing with the great outdoors."

A few nervous giggles could be heard before silence prevailed.

"How do we women catch a man's interest in the first place? What signals do we gals give off to let a man know that not only are we single, but that we're interested... but not desperate?" asked Roz.

"It's how we dress," said one.

"Yes, what we wear," agreed another.

"Body language," said a third.

"Sue?" Roz said, "what's your take?"

"Attitude," she offered, as if that were the definitive answer.

"Well, said Roz, "you will no doubt be glad to know that you are all correct in your analysis. What you are going to learn today is how to trigger certain base emotions in men that makes them want to learn more about you. Actually, want, might be the wrong word here. Need, may be more appropriate. They must need to know more about you. Marcy, come up to the front of the class and rest against the teacher’s desk. You are going to be the man I want to attract, and I am going to show you the different responses evoked by my body language. Notice, I am not going to say a word."

Roz helped Marcy assume the position of the man in question, leaning back against the desk, arms folded.

"Each time I walk past this young man," said Roz, over giggles from the women still seated, "I intend to convey a specific message using only body language, to get a specific response. I want you to tell me what that response is, okay?"

"Okay," came the chorus.

Roz's face darkened as she walked past Marcy at a good clip, not so much as glancing at her, as she sailed past.

"Disinterest," said a voice.

"Exactly," said Roz. "I showed zero interest in the young man, and my pace showed that I wanted none in return. Try this one."

Roz walked past the young man, and glanced in his direction, before carrying on at the same pace.

"Mild interest, but not much else," said one.

"That's right," said Roz. "The fact that I looked at all in his direction, will ensure that he will follow me with his eyes as I continue walking, but we both know that nothing will come from it. Now this one."

Starting farther away from Marcy, she walked briskly towards her as if she hadn't spotted 'him'. Roz slowed her walk, and ran her fingers sensually through her hair as she approached the young man. She angled her head towards her shoulder and treated him to a dazzling smile, but did not stop. A few feet past the young man, she stooped as if something was in her shoe and she had no choice but to remove it. As she put her foot on the 'sidewalk', she paid little attention to the man she had passed, but her skirt somehow managed to ride up her thigh as she took the offending article from her shoe, before massaging her ankle for a second or two.

"Ooooh!" said the class as one.

"Bingo!" squealed another.

"Not so difficult, eh?" asked Roz of her audience. "Thanks Marcy, please take your seat. All right, gather in a semi-circle in front of me, you can use your chairs. This is going to be a powerful lesson in the art of visual seduction. Using only my head from the neck up, and predominantly my eyes and mouth, I want you to pay very close attention to the signals I am going to give off, each designed to trigger a specific response in your male target. Remember, as far as this class goes, you are the target of my desire and my expressions, and sometimes micro expressions are going to tell you exactly how I feel about you, and that you have been given the green light to approach me."

The next half hour flew by as Roz demonstrated her craft in the art of seduction. She started with eyes that fluttered or refused to look directly at the target, to combinations of glances and barely perceptible smiles. With head angles and the way her hair slid from her face, to the full smile at certain chosen moments, Roz amazed them with her full repertoire of I'm available signals.

Sue had been witness to everything that she felt sure Ted had been subjected to as the poor clod had been bushwhacked by the femme fatale in front of her. All that was going to change, though. Both Roz's love life and her professional career were going to suffer in the very near future. Nobody fucks with Sue Peoples and gets away with it. Nobody. Oh, Ms Rook was good, there was no denying that, but destroying careers was like a hobby to Sue Peoples. First she intended to rip Ted away from this witch's claws, then take Rozlyn Rook down.

The ladies spent the rest of the afternoon honing their skills, as Roz coached them one on one until their newfound proficiency satisfied her. Her best student? Sue Peoples. The focus she brought to bear was alarming, unnatural one might say, but she was good, very good.

"Well ladies," said Roz at the end of day one, "I want you to go out as a group tonight and terrorize members of the male sex with your newly aquired abilities."

"You're not coming to keep an eye on us Ms Rook?" asked Marcy.

"Normally I would, ladies," Roz replied, "but my boss insisted I represent our paper at some kind of fundraiser for homeless cats. Don't ask me why. It seems to be one of those 'on a need to know' basis, and apparently, I don't need to know. Don't worry though, tomorrow morning I expect to hear great things from this group. Don't limit yourselves as to where you want to start. Bars are the most common places for men to hang out, but if you prefer a church social, then go for it. No prison visiting hours, though."

A few groans and chuckles followed that remark as the ladies prepared to leave the building. Roz watched as Sue raced out ahead of the other seven pupils who stuck together and chatted animatedly as they exited the classroom. Roz followed everybody outside, but watched only Sue as she got into her car and left the parking lot. Roz couldn't shake the feeling that Ted's ex, hated her guts. Maybe she could press Ted for information that might help her with Sue? He would join her later, for the feline fundraiser. Free drinks all night. No doubt to loosen up wallets. That should be a good time to ask.

Chapter 10 - What! No Mustache?

A Fundraiser for Homeless Cats                              

Nathan only knew that he would be sharing the table for eight with a prickly spinster who had organized the whole event. What the heck am I doing here?  Why would Franco want me to represent the newspaper at a fundraiser for homeless cats? It made little sense. Franco himself, owned one dog and zero cats. Having arrived late, he noticed that soup and expensive slender crystal rose vases had already been placed beside each name card. Spotting his own name, he eased himself into the seat next to a rather attractive young woman.

"Good evening," he said in a cheery voice. "And you are?"

The young lady turned her card so that he could read her name. Rozlyn Rook. His demeanor changed, as a distant memory summoned itself.

"You're Rozlyn Rook?"

"That's what the card says, Mr Knight." Roz had already checked out the name of the person who would be sitting next to her, and was irritated to find his name, even though they had never met. "My ticket was given to me by my editor-in-chief, who in turn was given the ticket by one Franco Profilio. Does the name ring any bells?"

"Son-of-a-bitch!" exclaimed Nathan. "Payback."

"Excuse me?" said Roz, "Feel free to explain."

"Sorry. No can do, Ms Rook. Private matter. Sorry."

Rozlyn raised her bent arm. "This is my elbow," she announced clearly.

Nathan was lost. Nothing came to mind. Lunacy might explain it. Beyond that, he had nothing.

"You once wrote that I didn't know my arse from my elbow," she went on. "I merely wished to show you the error of your ways."

Nathan nodded. No point in incriminating himself further.

"So tell me," Rozlyn said, "what was the first thing that you noticed about me?"

"Well," replied Nathan, before taking a mouthful of wine, "I was pleasantly surprised that you didn't have a mustache."

"I'll bet that you wouldn't mind putting your face next to my beard, though?" said Roz quietly into his ear.

Nathan put his wrist up to his mouth, but was unable to avoid spitting his wine over his hand and into his soup.

"Sorry. Sorry," he said to the functions matron who had spotted his inappropriate behavior. "Wine went down the wrong way."

"I was always led to believe that the English enjoyed superior breeding," Roz mentioned, leaning over towards the matronly host. “Perhaps that quality was exaggerated.”

The spinster turned her steely gaze upon Nathan for a second before looking away.

"That was wrong of you, on every level," Nathan said.

"All's fair in love and war," quoted Roz. "Good job that particular wine complements the lobster bisque," she added.

A gong sounded to start the donation pledges.

"Who will be the first to stand up and pledge one thousand dollars towards a home for cats?" boomed out the voice of the celebrity announcer, a local singer.

"Not flipping me," Roz muttered, to no one in particular. "I’m no fan of cats, but I am partial to these bread sticks," she said, leaning over sideways to reach one. Nathan snatched a thorny rose from its glass prison, and slipped it under Roz's buttock just before she regained her upright position. She shot up out of her seat as a thorn embedded itself in her backside.

"Jeezus!" she yelled, her hand racing to her injured flank.

Nathan started clapping. The rest of the room burst into applause.

"Rozlyn Rook, ladies and gentlemen," called out the announcer. "The first to pledge one thousand dollars. Thank you from dozens of grateful cats, Ms Rook."

As the cheering continued, many glasses were raised into the air in her honor. She turned her furious gaze on Nathan.

"War of the Roses luv.  English history. You should read it sometime." Nathan laughed, clutching his sides. "Oh dear, that was priceless."

Rozlyn eased herself back into her seat, careful not to antagonize her punctured rear end. She regained her calm demeanor.

"Yours, I believe," she said, handing the flattened rose to her antagonist.

"I'm impressed, Ms Rook," said Nathan, bringing the damaged bloom to his nose. "The sweet smell of victory," he explained, replacing the rose into its receptacle.

"I admit it, Mr Knight. You won this battle," Roz said, baring her teeth, no sign of a smile reaching her lips. "But this war is far from over."

Nathan took a second look at his competitor in the newspaper ratings game. Damned if that cold stare she visited upon him wasn't the sexiest thing he had seen in years. Come to think of it, she was quite stunning. Her barely concealed anger made him acutely aware of the intelligence that lay behind her eyes. He was, however, completely unaware of how long he had been staring at her.

Rozlyn snapped her fingers in front of his face a couple of times.

"Sorry," he said, his cheeks aglow from the realization of his faux-pas.

"Was that interest, I saw in your face, Mr Knight? It was, wasn't it?"

"Good heavens no," replied Nathan, a little too quickly.

"Then why the red face when caught staring at me?"

"That's the very reason they call this a blush wine," he replied, recovering his wits. "Perhaps I drank too much of the stuff."

"Uh-huh!" exclaimed Roz. "That's one possibility."

"What's the other?"

"I am quite an expert in the visual cues that men can't help making when interested in a woman," Rozlyn replied, allowing her eyes to flit over Nathan's face and tuxedo covered torso as she cocked her head to one side.

"Please," he said, "you're making me feel like a cheap side of beef, the way you're weighing me up." He turned his head from her, the way a coy virgin might.

Roz grinned, despite herself. "Truce, just for the rest of the evening?" she asked, her eyes moving to the lips that would carry his reply. Sensual lips below an attractive nose. His smile touched his eyes and Rozlyn felt her stomach flutter.

"Truce," he agreed, raising his glass towards her. Their wine glasses clinked together and they both took a sip, each keeping one eye on the other.

"I have a limo coming to pick me up," said Nathan. "It should be outside about now. I only wanted to show my face, not stay for the whole horrid affair. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Ms Rook." He extended his hand to her.

She watched her own hand slide into his. The grip was firm and dry... and lasted longer than it should.

"I need to get some air myself," she said, confused at the signals her body was radiating. "Do you mind if I accompany you outside?"

"Not at all," he replied, standing up behind her seat and pulling it away from her.

"Quite the proper English gentleman," she said, "when you're not stabbing a girl with a thorny rose."

"What can I say," he replied. "Like your bottom, my conscience was pricked." Now that Nathan stood over her, James Bond making contact with a possible conquest, the flutter in Rozlyn's belly produced a delicious glow further south. They walked arm in arm outside into the cool evening air. The very second they reached the pavement, a shiny black limousine pulled up beside them. The driver emerged from the far side, walked around and opened the door for his client.

"Farewell, Nathan Knight," she said. Their eyes met. Nathan pulled her in, half turning as he dipped her surprised body into the classic lovers embrace. Before she could so much as gasp, his lips found hers in a crushing kiss. Every bit as quickly, he reversed his movements and released her.

"Goodnight, Rozlyn Rook," he replied, and entered the limo without so much as a backward glance. She had lost the power of speech and watched, mesmerized, as the limo disappeared from sight.

"Who the hell was that?" shouted an angry Ted, striding towards his girlfriend. "What the hell is going on? Explain yourself woman!"

Roz's hand went to her mouth. She could still feel where the pressure of Nathan's lips had met hers. She shook her head.

"Ted, I'm as shocked as you," she said. "We were sitting at the same table together and--"

"And?"

"And I walked him outside. I needed the fresh air."

Let's go," Ted replied, the anger in his voice evident. "You have some explaining to do."

Some war, Roz thought. I've already lost the first two battles.

"Let's start with his name,” said Ted, dragging Roz along behind him.

"You’re late for the charity event, Ted," she blurted out. "You should have been here half an hour ago."

"So this is what happens when your boyfriend is late, is it?"

Roz rolled her eyes. Difficult to salvage this one. How much trouble can you get a girl into in one evening, Mr Knight.

Chapter 11 - Fool Me Once  

Offices of the Daily Standard Newspaper   

Franco ambled into Nathan's workspace and sat down in the only other chair. He groaned as if releasing stiffness from his neck or back. Nathan said nothing.

"How are you this morning?" asked Franco.

"As opposed to any other morning in particular?"

"Suit yourself. How did it go last night?" Franco had his eyes closed as if it were small talk between friends and didn't really merit a reply.

"The usual. I had a couple of beers to wind down before putting on a movie I had no intention of watching."

"I meant at the function for soliciting funds for a cat home," Franco threw out there, crossing his legs but still appearing to pay little attention.

"Didn't stay long. Not my cup of tea." Nathan could feel Franco's frustration. He knew his boss desperately wanted to find out how things had gone between the two advice columnists that he had conspired to put next to each other.

"Any entertaining people at your table?" Franco wondered.

"Indeed," replied Nathan. "How did I manage to get stuck with that cranky old spinster who was running the show? I knew she must have flown in on a broomstick, I just couldn't spot where she had parked the damn thing."

"Apart from that," enquired Franco, sitting up now. "Did anything happen to spoil your meal?"

"As a matter of fact, there was something."

"Go on."

"My lobster bisque tasted of wine. Strangest thing. Made me wonder what the chef was up to in the kitchen."

Franco’s voice sounded strained. "Nothing else then?"

Nathan shook his head. Nothing obviously came to mind.

"I was tempted to donate the first one thousand dollars on your behalf for the cat mansion, though," said Nathan, making full eye contact with his boss.

"What! You didn't though, did you? I told you five hundred maximum."

"Sorry, somebody beat me to it. The crowd went wild, though. Wished I'd been a bit quicker with your wallet."

A buzzing noise interrupted the conversation. Franco pulled his cell phone from his inside pocket. "Sabrina, always nice to hear from—what?--I owe you a thousand dollars? How exactly--Sabrina, calm down--my fault? Wait, listen--" Franco stared at his cell phone as if it were radioactive. "She hung up on me," he said.

"So, what does a thousand dollars get you with a Russian hooker Franco? Trust me when I say I'm not going to tell your wife. The poor woman doesn't deserve this Franco. She has been a devoted--"

"Sabrina's not a hooker, you idiot. She's my opposite number at the Daily Voice. She was ranting on about it being my fault that she had to cough up a thousand dollars for the damn cat castle. Is she insane?" Franco looked up at Nathan, who made no effort to look away. "What happened last night Nathan?"

"I told you Franco, two beers and--"

"At the retirement fund for frigging cats, you bastard. I know you were involved somehow. This has your fingerprints all over it."

Nathan's face reflected hurt and a complete lack of understanding. "Franco, I was only there for fifteen or twenty minutes, tops," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "How could I possibly be to blame?"

Chapter 12 - Testing Roz's Techniques -  the Peoples Way

O’Leary’s Bar – Corner of 4^th and Maple

Sue’s car pulled up outside a bar she hadn’t visited in years. She sat, staring at the entrance.

"The rest can go together as a group," Sue said quietly to herself, "but not me. I'm not about to have others in the class relay how the great Sue Peoples failed at being able to lure a male. I can prove this doesn't work on my own.”

Where wouldn’t the rest be going to try out the eye contact technique? O'Leary's Bar, that's where. The place is crammed every night with university and medical students.

“A bit young for me,” she said into the rear view mirror, “but I'm still on the right side of thirty."

The noise in the bar was deafening. The room was filled with students binge drinking after putting in twelve to sixteen hours of dedicated study. A juke-box with the hiccups repeated the same line of a song until somebody gave it a decent thump.

The scene brought back memories Sue would rather forget. The frantic pace of life. Endless books to devour and not enough time to read them. No tables were vacant, and the bar stools were occupied except for one at either end.

She eased her way through the crowd. No one paid her any attention, so engrossed were they in their own world. The odd phrase caught her attention as she wound her way to the bar. "Your turn for the beer" - "Professor Atkins is sooo hot" - "Fuck the lymphatic system" - "I can't. I'm broke till Thursday."

Which seat to pick? Sue checked out the two guys perched on the seats next to the vacant stools. Both looked barely of legal drinking age. She opted for the empty seat on the left, only to be beaten to it by a skinny dork. She had no idea what was on the front of his T shirt, but 'F*ck U' was proclaimed on the back.

Okay then, the one on the right it is. The realization that she might be the oldest person in the bar, did nothing for her self-esteem. Here she was, however, sitting beside a fresh-faced youngster halfway through what was obviously not his first beer. The noise would help in this case. According to Roz--stealer of boyfriends--no talk was necessary. It was all done with the eye-to-body and eye-to-eye contact. Adding the appropriate body language made success almost a certainty. This would be a bad time to find out that Rozlyn Rook was full of shit.

Sue slid onto the chair, then twisted her seat several inches to the left, crossing her stockinged legs as she did so. She ignored the young student to her left. The bartender poured her requested vodka tonic with ice, in front of her. His eyes never left hers. She threw a ten dollar bill on the bar top and waved him off. Sue idly stirred the ice around the cup with her forefinger for a few seconds, then eased the finger from the glass and watched as a drop of liquid beaded at the end of it. She appeared to be mesmerized, as the drop grew larger and prepared to drop from her finger. Sue parted her lips and her tongue eased past her red lipstick toward her finger and the blossoming drop of vodka. Her attention consumed by the sight, she slid the forefinger into her mouth and sucked on it, closing her eyes as she did so. Her finger fell from her lips, and she turned her head towards the stranger on her left. The young man's beer appeared to be frozen in place, halfway to his mouth. Showing no emotion, Sue let her eyes drop to his crotch area, then roam in a lazy manner up towards his face. She made eye contact with him for a millisecond, and returned her gaze once again to her vodka tonic. The tiniest hint of a smile touched the corners of her mouth, letting him know his attention was appreciated. Absent-mindedly, she ran a forefinger around the top of her glass.

"My name is Jim," shouted the young man over the din. "I think you're absolutely gorgeous. Why don't you and I go somewhere quiet, where we can--"

"Fuck off, Jim," Sue shouted back, "I don't date children."

She left her seat and moved as fast as she was able to the bar’s entrance, and pushed her way through the door. The deafening noise disappeared. She saw herself for a brief second in the bar’s one huge window. Her face was positively glowing. A kid several years her junior had tried his best to pick her up. Sure, he was a bit intoxicated, but there was no mistaking the fact that he wanted to fuck her brains out. None whatsoever. Walking back to her car, she replayed the scene out in her head. It wasn't so much that Rozlyn--fucker of stolen boyfriend, Ted--was a good teacher. No. The truth was that the pupil was a natural sex appeal oozing vixen. I'm going to give you a pass on this technique Rozlyn, you whore, but day two had better work equally well if not better. Don't think for a second this seminar can save you. You are going down, Ms know-it-all Rook.

She made her way towards the parking lot. A wolf whistle rent the air from somewhere behind her. Without breaking stride or turning around, she flipped her middle finger up into the air, before turning into the underground parking lot.

"You are one sexy bitch, Mistress Peoples," she said out loud, before coughing up the five dollar parking fee to the attendant. "Keep the change," she said, knowing full well there was none. Her foot tapped on the accelerator and her car launched itself out into the street.

Chapter 13 – Men’s Basest Desires Exposed

Roz's Workshop - Day 2

The first ten minutes of day two's morning class were noisy to say the least. Roz made no effort to subdue the excited chatter, but tried to listen in to the conversation. Apparently, the previous evening's entertainment had met with unparalleled success. Two of the ladies had reconnected with ex-boyfriends. Five other girls who had stuck together as a group were reminding each other about their successes, and a couple of them even had multiple successes. Sue said nothing, but merely smiled at the other women.

Roz strolled over to Sue's desk. Over the noise, she asked her how her night went.

"What's there to tell." Sue shrugged her shoulders. "Men are weak, women are strong. We have an unfair advantage, and last night I proved that." Another shrug. "Piece of cake."

"Excellent," replied Roz, clapping her hands together to bring the session to order. "Tell me, how easy or difficult did you find applying your new skills last night?"

A chant of "Easy, easy" went up in seconds.

"This is some group I have here," laughed Roz. "If I was a man, I'd be scared right about now."

The group started clapping, the adrenaline from the previous nights entertainment spurring them on.

"Okay, okay," said Roz. "Time to move on, to try to understand how men think and operate, so that we can interrupt their brain pattern and insinuate ourselves into their needs. A mild psychological understanding is required here." Roz paused for effect as she scanned the faces in front of her, all eagerly awaiting her next sentence.

"Why do you think that the 50 Shades of Grey book was so popular? Anybody who read it would know that nothing physical at all happened up to the halfway point. So why was it considered such a hit?"

No hands made their way into the air, but there was little doubt that she had one hundred percent of their attention.

"It was the teasing, the suspense, the telling of what Christian Grey wanted to do but hadn’t up to that point. It was the anticipation that made it such a huge success, not just diving straight into the sex. Creating anticipation will be a central theme in making sure that the target of your desire craves you, and your attention."

"Can I ask you a question that has nothing to do with your last statement, Ms Rook?"

"Go ahead Debra, what's on your mind?"

"There's this guy that I've fancied forever, but every time his friends are around, there is one who always makes me feel like a fool."

"By doing what?"

"He says mean things to me in front of Dave, the guy I want to attract. I need to take this guy down a peg, but I don't know how?"

"Okay Debra, here is exactly what you say to this jerk the next time he bad-mouths you. What is this idiot's name, by the way?"

"Mark."

"Okay, well, making sure that Dave and his other friends are present the next time you get insulted, you ask, ‘Mark! Did you know that turtles have the ability to breathe out of their anus'?’ Trust me on this one, he won't. Then you simply add, ‘unlike a certain young man who spends his time talking out of his.’"

"Ooooh!" The group said collectively at this put down.

"The reason that you need say no more is because Dave and his buddies will make Mark's life a living hell for being outsmarted. It would reinforce the insult if you were to leave the group at this point. You might wink at David and then say to Mark, goodbye turtle, but only if you really wanted to rub his nose in it. I think you'll find that Mark will stay well clear of insulting you after that."

"I like it," replied Debra.

"Okay," said Roz, "getting back to the subject at hand. Creating anticipation. Remember when I said that desire starts in the mind? Well, it's absolutely true. Let's say that you have attracted the man of your dreams by using yesterday’s techniques. What can you do to stimulate his desire for you well before you meet up later that night?"

A brief pause.

"Call him up on the phone and tell him that your nipples are aching, then hang up. Trust me, he will call back within ten seconds. Before he can say anything, you whisper, ‘Sorry, I have to go and find my vibrator, I'll call you later.’ Then you hang up and don't answer the phone no matter how long or often it rings. What do you think he will be thinking about for the rest of the day? Or text him when you know he will be in a business meeting. The text you send should be short and to the point. ‘Dave, I am so horny right now... and so incredibly wet... you know... down there. Got to go.’ Send the text and enjoy the rest of your day knowing that he is having a hard time concentrating on anything but you."

"I bet he'll turn up early for his date," said Marcy.

"This is when you put phase two into operation," said Roz. "You don’t let him rip your clothes off, no matter how much he wants to. You dictate the pace. Make him sit down in a comfortable chair. Wear something really racy underneath your clothes, and strip for him, slowly, seductively. When you get down to your bra and panties, you ease a finger or two into your womanly mound, slowly bring them to your mouth and suck on them. Rest one of your knees in between his legs and lean forward, pushing your breasts into his face."

"OMG!" exclaimed a member of the group.

"If he doesn't react to that," said Roz with a grin all over her face, "check for a pulse. Chances are his heart gave out."

Several of the girls were fanning their faces at this point. This was obviously new to them.

"What seduces your senses?" asked Roz, without waiting for any questions regarding the prior scenario. "When you know what seduces your senses, then all you have to do is make erotic suggestions to your partner and instantly create the feeling of anticipation in his very being. This is a two way street, though. Do the same for him and he will love you forever, desire you forever."

"Can you give us an example?" asked one of the girls.

"Your imagination is your strongest sexual weapon, ladies. Talk dirty to him. Tell him you want to suck on his balls, not in a matter-of-fact way, but in a seductive whisper. Tell him how wet it makes you when you watch him ejaculate after giving him a hand job. Tell him how you like to rub his thick sperm all over your tits, butt, belly, legs, face, whatever. Any of the above will send him over the edge. How could he want any other woman after what you can do for him? You have the power. Use it for the lifetime of your relationship."

Roz glanced over at Sue. Her face was on fire, and she was staring right at her. A thought ran through Roz's mind. Was she thinking about what Roz might be doing with her ex? She couldn’t worry about that now. She had a class to teach. For the rest of the afternoon, Roz taught her girls about men and how they think, about different sexual techniques, even suggesting cool places to practice public sex. With half an hour to go, Roz announced that she had a present for all of the participants. Squeals split the air when the ladies found out that each would receive an expensive vibrator. Roz placed the eight vibrating models on the teacher's desk. Several hands reached for the vibrators. Several also changed hands, as the women sought ones that they felt were right for their pleasure. Soon, there were only two left on the table. Roz picked one up and handed it to Sue.

"Take a few seconds to read the instructions," suggested Roz.

Sue read the instructions out loud. "Lyla 2 Remote Control Vibrator By LELO. The most advanced remote control vibrator on the market by LELO just got better. Boasts new enhancements, including a 3X greater wireless range and 50% more vibration intensity. It can be enjoyed externally or worn internally for a range of thrilling sexual stimulation to the clitoris and gspot. The Lyla 2 features LELO’s SenseMotion™ technology, which provides a range of up to 12 meters/ 39 feet. 8 Different Vibration Patterns are Now More Satisfying and Discreet. It is near silent, making it very easy to enjoy powerful vibration patterns, which are adjusted by the controller with a simple tilt of the hand. Meanwhile, a discreet motor inside the controller mirrors Lyla’s 2 vibrations to show what a partner is feeling. The Lyla 2 is fully waterproof and rechargeable with a beautifully soft and smooth silicone design." Sue looked up at Roz with a puzzled look on her face.

"Just think Sue, your partner gets to control your orgasm, how hot is that?"

"Thanks," replied Sue simply. "I'll make sure to put it to good use."

"Okay ladies," announced Roz, "we've reached the end of your lessons. Don't forget to take your notes with you, and I wish you all the very best. Thanks for putting your faith in me, and feel free to keep in touch to let me know how things work out. Have you enjoyed your two days with me?"

"Yes," came the expected response.

"Are you excited about your future relationships?"

More replies in the affirmative filled the classroom.

"Then go make your dreams a reality."

Each of the girls hugged her on the way out, all but Sue. Sue thanked her and gave her a firm handshake. Her thanks did not extend to her eyes though. Was trouble brewing?

Chapter 14 – Pupil or Teacher?

Ted’s Residence

Sue's heart raced as she pressed the doorbell to Ted's apartment. Perhaps he wasn't home? He was home. She knew because his sleek black Audi was in its usual parking spot. No turning back now. Did the student have what it took to become the master? Sue closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. The door opened, and there stood Ted, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I'm sorry," Sue said, lowering her eyes. "If this is a bad time?"

"No, no," replied Ted, "I just got in about ten minutes ago and felt like a shower. Please, come in."

"Thanks," said Sue, touching his hand as her eyes made gentle contact with his. "Just kick me out if I'm being a nuisance." The sudden twitch under Ted's towel did not go unnoticed.

"So how are things with you, Ted?"

"I can't complain, I guess. I'm dating a local celebrity at the moment. Sorry. That was wrong of me to bring that up. Forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive, Ted," Sue said, with a wistful sigh. "You deserve the best. I pushed you away, and for that mistake, I paid the price."

"Now, now, no point in bringing up ancient history. I rather liked your direct approach, it's just that--"

"I know Ted. Believe me, I know. I was pushy and always believed that I knew best. No need to sugarcoat it." Sue's eyes searched Ted's face for any sign of belief at that last statement. She saw his whole demeanor soften as she expressed regret.

"Would you believe it Sue, last night I turned up late for a function with Roz, that's my girlfriend by the way, and caught her snatched up with another man."

"Snatched up? As in kissing?" asked Sue, a hand going to her mouth.

"She was outside, supposedly talking to the guy when he kissed her. At least that's her story. And before I could get there, the man disappeared in a limousine. What do you make of that?"

Sue gave what she hoped was a sympathetic sigh. "It takes two to tango, Ted. It sounds a bit suspicious, I must admit, but you should give her the benefit of the doubt."

"You think so?"

"Do you know the guy's name?"

"Nathan Knight. Ring any bells?"

Sue’s gaze dropped to the floor. "Unfortunately, yes. A real Casanova. He would probably sleep with his own sister if she dropped her pants."

"He’s into incest?"

"No, not that I know of, just a figure of speech."

"I don't know what to do, Sue. Can I trust her anymore?"

"My poor baby," Sue whispered, as she closed the gap between them and cradled his head on her shoulder, easing his face closer to her bosom. "Don't think about it Ted. If he's already sampled her wares, it's probably best that you don't know."

"What?" Ted jerked his head off her shoulder.

"Oh look! Your wet hair has water dripping all the way down my blouse," said Sue, pulling open her blouse and just enough of her bra, for Ted to see a droplet run down onto her dark areola and nipple. "Good heavens Ted, you're making my nipple swell so much it aches." Sue pulled the bra away from her breast so that he too could watch her nipple start to resemble a miniature wine cork. His breathing grew hoarse as her hand accidentally brushed up against his erection, trapped behind the towel. Sue loosened the towel at his waist until it fell lifeless to the ground. She sank to her knees in front of his throbbing erection.

What happened next took Ted completely by surprise. Sue grabbed her own blouse in both hands and ripped it and her bra apart, exposing her quivering breasts. She then took Ted's member in her hand and rubbed it all over her breast and around her fat nipple. Then she began tugging on his cock. Ted was transfixed by the sight. Barely thirty seconds had passed before his seed spurted all over Sue's breast. Never before had he ever come that quickly. Sue moved her mouth over the head of Ted's cock, sucking on it like a popsicle. He used two fingers to scoop some of his semen from Sue's nipple and held it out beside his still-hard cock. Sue devoured the thick globs from his fingers. More come oozed from the tip of his cock at the sight. More seed disappeared down her throat.

"Sue," he gasped, more aroused than ever before in his life. "Why did you never do this sort of thing before? I would never have left you."

Sue cradled Ted’s love muscle to the side of her face. "Believe me, I wanted to Ted, but I was too shy. Too shy until it was too late, my love." Was he going to buy it?

Ted’s voice sounded hoarse. "Nathan can have my girlfriend, Sue. Would you take me back? Please? I'll beg if that's what it takes."

A wicked grin replaced her shy smile. "Just put your cock inside me, Ted," she replied. “Use me as a woman in love should be used."

"Oh Sue!"

Ted's bedside phone rang. Ted reached for it and with a deft move he clicked it onto speakerphone.

"Roz here," said a voice with which Sue was very familiar, "Listen, I know you have reservations for that fancy new restaurant tonight. The thing is, I'm really tired and just need to catch up on some sleep. Would you mind terribly if we put the dinner date off for another night?"

"Roz, I'm really sorry," Ted replied, winking at Sue, "but I think we should part ways. After what happened the other night... well, I think it's just for the best, that's all."

There were about ten seconds of silence.

"Well, if that's what you want, Ted," replied Roz. "Sorry I wasted the restaurant reservations for you."

"Think nothing of it. They won't go to waste, believe me."

Before the call was disconnected, Roz caught the tail end of a woman's shrill giggle. She stared at the phone. Her replacement's laugh was delivered in a tone that seemed vaguely familiar, which, in itself was disconcerting. Being dumped was bad enough, but when it was literally overnight, and, in all likelihood, to someone known to her?

 Chapter  15 – Egg for Breakfast - Double the Fun        

Sue’s apartment

"Look what I have here, Ted," Sue said, opening up her hand. Ted came over to look at the two objects.

"Is that a small vibrator?" asked Ted, taking the egg shaped object from her hand.

"Close your hand around it," she said. After he had done just that, Sue took the other object and gently pressed on it.

"Oh!" exclaimed Ted, "that tickles."

"Keep it in your hand," she said as she manipulated the small round remote control. The vibrating egg varied in intensity, first on one side of his hand, and then on the other as Sue caressed the remote control.

"Can you hear anything?" she asked.

"Not a peep," replied Ted, fascinated.

This baby is remotely controlled from up to almost forty feet away," she said. "Imagine the fun we can have with this, Ted."

"What are you thinking, you devious pervert," he teased.

"Where are we meeting your clients tonight my darling?"

"Siegfried's Restaurant on Chapel street, why?"

"What do you say to me wearing this tonight, while you activate the remote?"

"You're a horny devil, you know that?" he said laughing. "What if you can't control yourself? I could lose valuable clients if you start screaming."

"You will have the remote, Ted. If I scream, it will be because you made me scream."

"I don't know, Sue. This might not be the time to risk a malfunction of any kind."

Sue started making clucking noises.

"Cut it out Sue, I'm serious."

"What came first Ted, the chicken... or this egg?"

"I'm not saying it's a bad idea. I'm saying it's a great idea, just maybe not for tonight."

"Don't you want to turn me on, my darling? Don't you want your Sue to be wet and willing for you after the meal is over, and we return to your place?"

"How wet?" asked Ted.

"Gushing wet I would imagine, my love. It might take half an hour to clean up the mess after you are through with me. That kind of wet."

She could see the front of Ted's pants straining to contain its contents. She walked past him and gently raked her nails over the material of his pants that covered his erection. "Of course, if that would be a problem?" She let the thought linger.

"I think I should practice," Ted replied, holding out his hand for the remote.

"You do the honors, would you my love," Sue said. She lay back on the sofa, her hips resting on the edge. Her knees were pushed apart, revealing her freshly shaved mound, awaiting his attention.

"Oh Sue," he gasped. She ran the forefinger and middle finger of one hand down over her cleft, her clitoris in between both fingers. She then spread her fingers, opening up the very center of her being. Ted licked as much of the egg as he could before easing it past the pink folds of her inner sanctum. The egg disappeared, and Ted went to work with the remote. Five minutes later, Sue went insane, screaming like a rabid werewolf during a full moon.

"Sorry," said Ted, "but I had to know just how much was too much. You do understand that?" he asked, grinning.

Sue was in no state to reply. Her chest heaved, her whole body was covered in sweat. The egg removed, her hand now clutched her soaking wet mound as if it might explode. Ted moved Sue's hand out if the way and replaced it with his mouth. She grabbed the back of his head with both hands as her hips bucked and shuddered. Ted panicked, his oxygen supply suddenly cut off. Sue thought he was trying to add to her pleasure, but the truth was he was fighting to suck in some air lest he pass out. She released him and he fell backwards, the two of them competing to empty the room of oxygen.

"Okay, we take it with us," Ted agreed, when his breathing returned to something approaching normal.

Chapter 16 - Dining with Millionaires - A Meal to Remember 

Siegfried's Restaurant – Chapel Street

Ted had reserved the best seat in the house at Siegfried's. A table for four next to a huge ornate but disused fireplace, ensured that they had privacy but also center stage. The husband and wife team of Rupert and Emily Bridges, had turned their business from a nickel and dime operation into several multi-million dollar empires in less than eight years. One of Emily's pet projects required extensive access to an excellent graphic design company, and Ted's own company was on the short list. Both men and women sat diagonally opposite each other at the table, so that talk would not be dedicated to business alone, but hopefully good conversation as well.

"So tell me, Sue," said Emily, "have you any clout with Ted when it comes to decision making?"

"Well, that depends on the type of decisions on the table." One of the best pieces of advice that Roz had given Sue during the seminar, was to stay out of her boyfriend's business. Just assume for once that he knows best, Roz had said. Despite her normal reservations about the truth of such a statement, Sue had taken this advice and she now believed, it was in no small measure responsible for their closeness as a couple. It seemed a shame, however, that everything good that had come out of the seminar was not going to be able to save Rozlyn Rook. She had all but finished writing her review of Rozlyn's man-catching classes, and it was a damning one.

"I don't believe in interfering with Ted's business decisions in any way shape or form. I have complete and utter confidence in him."

This statement was met with positive noises from Rupert and Emily and a delicious feeling in her nether regions as Ted touched the remote, through the material of his pocket.

"Sue is a respected critic for Smart Women magazine," Ted said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Ted is being very humble with his praise," said Sue. "I'm actually one of the best critics in the business, but I don't like to blow my own horn."

"Modesty is sometimes a drawback," said Rupert. "It's good to know your own worth."

Sue gave a shy little smile that was rewarded with a tingle that caressed her G-spot. "Enough about me," Sue held Rupert’s gaze. "Tell me about yourself."

"There is no me in our team, Sue," said Rupert, with a chuckle. "We are always on the same page, so to speak," he added, winking at his wife.

"Very droll," Ted replied, as he explained to his partner, "Rupert and Emily, amongst other endeavors, own a huge publishing empire."

The intensity of the last vibration made Sue give a little gasp. She glanced sideways at Ted and gave him an encouraging smile. He squeezed her hand and offered a sheepish grin.

"When was the last time either of you was embarrassed by a situation caused by the other?"

"Rupert!" exclaimed Emily, "Play fair. Sue and Ted shouldn't have to listen to how you made me blush this morning."

"Happens all the time," laughed Sue. "Why, only this afternoon, Ted had egg on his face."

"Ted," chuckled Rupert, “is that true?"

"Only one thing to do when you have egg on your face, what say you?"

"Lick it," said Emily, "am I right?"

"Lick it until your face is soaking wet," added Sue. She closed her eyes as a prolonged tingling lit up her insides. This was such a great idea.

The main course came and Sue had never enjoyed a meal so much. Only the egg purring away inside her at a very low setting, was more delicious than the food. The trouble with such events, is that the end result is the same regardless of what caused the stimulation. The orgasm that was on the horizon would erupt like a volcano if care wasn't taken. Rupert, Ted, and Emily were deep in conversation and more than likely hadn't noticed Sue's progressively heavier breathing. Maybe she should excuse herself, go to the bathroom and remove the egg. No! She was the one who had insisted that this game be played out. If there was one thing she was not, it was a quitter. Oh, but her insides were on fire. She wanted to touch her own nipples, pinch them, squeeze and caress them. She glanced down at her pure white blouse. It could have been two tent pegs that pushed hard against the thin material. The pleasure rippled its way from the center of her being up into her belly like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. She was unaware of the other three voices now as she concentrated on the exquisite sensations deep inside. She caught the tail end of Ted mentioning that he was going to the bathroom and would be right back. Emily and Rupert turned their attention back to her. The vibrations inside her, stopped. Oh, thank goodness, but the lingering ebb and flow was still present.

"Are you okay?" asked Emily with concern in her voice.

"You're sweating my dear," Rupert said, concern in his voice.

"No, no, I'm fine," said Sue, as a full blasted shock slammed against her G-spot.

"Ooh, oh, oh, oh, aah!" she gasped.

"Sue, are you sure you're alright?" Emily asked again. Another blast from the egg zeroed in on her G-spot. What the hell was Ted doing?

"Is she going into convulsions?" Emily asked her husband.

I have to get out of here, thought Sue, and tried to stand up. ZAP! Another excruciating, orgasm generating blast hit the spot.

"Oh dear God," she gasped, "Ooooooh! Oh, oh, oooh!"

"Perhaps she's having a seizure," said Emily, "we need to call someone."

"No, no," gasped Sue, "I'm fine, really I am, it's okay." Sue thought back to the afternoon session where she'd completely lost control. No, she thought, not now. Why would Ted put his own meeting in jeopardy? Her eyes were screwed shut as her fingers tightened their grip on the tablecloth. She started to shake. "Ugh!" she shrieked. "Ooooh--ooooh--wuh-wuh--oh--ohhhh!"

"Good God, Rupert, "said Emily, shocked, "she's having an orgasm... in the middle of the restaurant."

There was no doubt about it, Sue was the center of attention as she gave in to the powerful vibrations that we're sending wave after wave of ecstasy, her way." Without warning the vibrations stopped. Sue flopped back in her chair, chest heaving. Rupert and Emily were simply staring at her, as was everybody else.

Sue opened her eyes in time to see a woman walking directly behind Ted's clients. Her face was familiar, and she held something up in each hand. Sue focused. Roz gave Sue one of her best smiles, as she held up a remote for a vibrating egg in one hand and a cell phone in the other. Sue's heaving heart dropped. Don't tell me she caught the whole thing on camera. It could go viral on YouTube overnight. Sue followed Roz with her eyes. Roz in turn looked satisfied, and winked at her before strolling out of the restaurant.

"What's going on here?" asked Ted, returning from the gents just as the manager approached.

"I'm very sorry ladies and gentlemen," barked the restaurant manager, "but I'm going to have to ask you to leave... at once."

"What? Now listen here--" Ted started.

"He's right," said Rupert, helping his wife from her seat, "we had best be going. We'll be in touch."

"Like hell we will," spat Emily, her face scarlet. "I've never been so humiliated. Thrown out of a restaurant, what's next?" She blinked, as a couple of camera flashes went off.

"We have no intention of paying the bill," said Ted.

"Forget the bill, just go, please," said the manager, lowering his voice. Sue did her level best to hide her face on the way out. A table full of youngsters gave them a standing ovation as they left the premises.

"What's wrong with these people?" Ted asked, "And why are we being thrown out?"

Chapter 17 - Sue's Review of Rozlyn's Seminar

"Well, here it is," announced Roz's editor-in-chief, "hot off the press. Sue Peoples column about your two day clinic."

"Go ahead," said Rozlyn, unconcerned, "read it out loud."

Sabrina and Maxine glanced at each other, and then at Rozlyn, whose face displayed a gentle smile, but nothing else.

"Sue Peoples here, devoted readers, fresh from a two day course offered by Rozlyn Rook of the Daily Voice newspaper. The course promised to land each participant the man of her dreams, or as close to that as possible." Sabrina left the last sentence hanging in the air as she switched her view from Sue's column, to her own advice columnist. No change in demeanor.

"The techniques learned by myself and seven other lucky candidates, bore fruit on the very first evening. Each of us had an engaging story to tell at the beginning of day two. Indeed, by the evening following day two, I had managed to pry my ex boyfriend away from his new girlfriend, using nothing but the approach taught by Ms Rook on day one. Just another success story to chalk up to Ms Rook and her super successful techniques."

By now, a grinning Maxine was standing over a still smiling Rozlyn Rook. "What the hell did you do?" she asked.

Sabrina read on. "Day two was as illuminating as day one. Many different facets of relationship building were revealed in an interesting manner. At the end of day two, Ms Rook presented us all with presents of a singular and interesting nature. So as not to ruin it for future participants, I shall not reveal what those presents were. I would ask Ms Rook not to share that information either. Confidentiality between professionals is expected and, I'm sure, bestowed. I would unhesitatingly recommend Ms Rook's course to any women who feel that they could benefit from the knowledge she is more than willing to share."

"Spit it out, Roz," said Sabrina. "I know you must have blackmailed her somehow. No other explanation could account for this kind of review."

Roz looked up at her boss.

"Enough of the innocent expressions Roz," said Maxine. "Lay your cards on the table, woman."

Without uttering a word, Rozlyn reached into her blouse pocket, pulled out a cell phone and tossed it onto the table in front of her.

"A cell phone that hasn't worked for over six months? That's your explanation?" Maxine asked.

"I thought you were going to replace that relic?" said Sabrina.

"A quote comes to mind," said Rozlyn

"Is it a good one?" Maxine asked.

"You should know," replied Roz. "You can't change the cards you are dealt, only the way you play the hand."

"I said that," Maxine mentioned to Sabrina in a confidential tone, "that was one of mine, sort of."

"The woman who danced with the devil." Sabrina laughed.

"Forgive me ladies,” Roz announced, “but I have bigger fish to fry. There’s a certain someone who requires my undivided attention." Roz gazed into the distance.

"Bigger than the great Sue Peoples?  Who, for goodness sake?" asked her boss.

"Nathan Knight," stated Rozlyn Rook, advice columnist extraordinaire, and a woman unused to being two to zip down against any male adversary. "The gloves are well and truly off now, Mr Knight."

                                                              Epilogue

Join Roz and Nathan, as they lock horns in book 2. Roz will never admit defeat, and Nathan has never encountered it. Undeniable chemistry clashes with unyielding wills. Their assistants put them through a crazy ‘Lesbian List of Love’ test. The ensuing fireworks create absolute havoc.

Book 2 is also free. Click here to receive your copy. Simply leave your name and address in the optin box, confirm your desire to receive Book 2 in an email sent directly to you, and you will be immediately redirected to the hilarious Battle-of-the-Sexes that is Book 2.

Other books by this author can be viewed by clicking here.


   © Alex Bahscot 2016