Free To Live Again by L. A. Witt Page A

solo intro to the kind of sex he’d promised. And I’d liked it. Hell, I could still feel it. Every time I moved, the vague soreness reminded me of the toy that had gone where no man had gone…yet.
    I grinned as I started perusing the e-mails that had been stacking up during my daydream. I could not get him out of my head, so I didn’t try. Was it just the novelty of a man finding me attractive and introducing me to a world I’d only fantasized about? Or was it him ?
    Either way, the conclusion was the same—I had to see him again.
    And soon .
    * * * * *
    After slogging through my day and crawling “home,” I let myself in through Ethan and Rhett’s front door. I was ready to collapse and catch up on some sleep, but if I didn’t see Sailo again, I was pretty sure I’d go out of my mind.
    Before leaving work, I’d sent him a text to see if he was free. Now that I was out of the car, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and—yes! He’d responded.
    At Wilde’s tonight. 7-close. Show is over at 11:30. Meet me at the bar at 12?
    I grimaced. Midnight? On a work night? Probably not a good idea, or I’d be even worse off tomorrow than I’d been today. Though I could call in sick, I supposed.
    Then again, my attorney had said there would be hearings and meetings throughout the divorce process. It would probably behoove me to save my time off until everything was finalized, just in case.
    Well. There would be other nights. So, hoping my disappointment didn’t come through, I wrote back:
    Have to be on the road to work at 5. Later this week?
    For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I thought he’d tell me to just forget it and that would be the end of it. Apparently I was really in denial about this guy being interested in me.
    Thank you for the self-esteem boost, divorce. Really needed that at this point in my life.
    My own thought made me roll my eyes. Without the divorce—dented self-esteem and all—I wouldn’t be making arrangements to sleep with Sailo anyway, so whatever.
    My phone buzzed.
    Free Wed or Thurs?
    So much for my stupid ego and its insistence that Sailo was just humoring me. We texted back and forth a few times, and settled on meeting for drinks on Wednesday night. Then he had to get ready for work, and I busied myself making something to eat.
    I was restless as hell, though. Tired from a long day, but twitchy. More than once, I reread our texts and wondered if I could survive tomorrow if I did in fact meet Sailo after his show. It was a stupid thought. I’d be miserable tomorrow, and probably fall asleep halfway through tonight anyway.
    Stupid thought or no, it refused to leave me alone. Sailo and I had made arrangements to meet on Wednesday, but damn it, I couldn’t wait to see him. Not two more days, anyway.
    Oh, to hell with it.
    I changed into something more presentable, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out before I could talk myself out of it. With my heart thumping against my ribs, I drove through Capitol Hill, down Broadway, right to that familiar neon sign above the swanky club with tinted windows.
    Wilde’s had its own parking lot, unlike a lot of places in the neighborhood, and apparently they weren’t that busy this early in the week. I found a spot near the front and walked inside.
    After I’d paid the cover and made it past the bouncers, I continued into the lounge, which was practically empty tonight.
    As I approached the bar, Kieran saw me and smiled. “Hey!” He shook my hand over the bar. “Guess the place didn’t scare you off?”
    “No, not quite. I’m actually meeting somebody.” Sort of. He didn’t exactly know I was coming. Would he be…okay with it? Oh fuck. I should’ve texted him.
    “Can I get you something to drink?” Kieran asked.
    What’s the strongest thing you’ve got?
    “Um…” I definitely didn’t need any alcohol, but something cold sounded good. “Just a bottle of water. I’m, uh, driving.” Probably soon. After Sailo saw me and asked