Marlee and Timothy come immediately around the garden and towards the pool area, where they converge upon us. Marlee takes Ivana aside and asks her to tell her story again, while I turn to Richard. I motion for him to go off with Timothy, to tell him, but he resists. Timothy senses that something is wrong, so he takes Richard by the shoulder and drags him to the other side of the garden, and I know deep within me that he is fully prepared to play good cop/bad cop with his old friend.

I run my hands through my hair, knowing that Nathan is a serial rapist, and I wonder if he's ever gone farther than that. I raise my eyes to Marlee and Ivana, and Marlee takes Ivana in her arms as she continues to sob. Timothy rests his hand briefly on Richard's shoulder before telling him to rejoin me before he takes out his walkie.

"Chief Timothy," I hear him say as I pull Richard into my arms. "We've got a situation over here at the Berkshaw house. We're talking about multiple 261's here," he says quietly into his device as Richard rests his head upon my shoulder. "Prior," he says quickly. "Yeah, I'll bring them right in. Thanks," he says, shutting it off.

Richard says he will make his excuses to his parents later at our leaving the party, but I just hope that they don't ultimately blame me for it. Marlee, Timothy, Ivana, Richard, and I slip around the side of the house to the area where all the cars are kept. Richard and I take Ivana in his car while Marlee and Timothy lead the way back to Seattle. I go to sit in the back with Ivana, who is inconsolable once again, and keep my arms around her until we cross the freeway and get to the police station in Seattle.

Marlee and Timothy wait for us in the reception area before Richard walks on through, Ivana in tow. I am shocked that Timothy doesn't need to even show his badge, for everyone immediately clears the way for all of us. He takes us into his office and gets onto his phone, where he summons detectives from Spokane, for that is the closest place with the Special Victim's Unit. He then makes another phone call to Boeing, where we secure a plane to take us there.

I wonder why he didn't do that before, but shrug it off as we return to the freeway, this time in a squad car. We make it to the airport quickly and soon board a plane for Spokane. Using my phone, I determine that it will take under an hour to arrive and when we do, Ivana is exhausted from all her crying at finally confessing what happened to her. We land safely at the airport and drive the five miles into their downtown area, where we soon arrive at their Special Victim's Unit.

Timothy exits the car and advances upon a man waiting for us, who he quickly introduces as Chief Bryson Ambrose, the Chief of Police in Spokane. Marlee already seems to know Chief Bryson, and greets him amicably while Richard, Ivana, and I do the same. He leads us into the building and takes us to the Special Victim's own unit where we are all introduced to Captain Jeff Peters, and his four detectives—Det. Larry Schmitz, Det. Audrey Hanover, Det. Grace Michaels, and Det. Roxanne Newton.

"You got my call," Chief Ambrose tells Captain Peters.

Captain Peters nods. "Yes, of course I did. Hanover, you'll see to Miss Richardson. Michaels and Newton, Miss Berkshaw. And Schmitz, you'll speak with Mr. Berkshaw," he says in a voice full of authority.

Det. Audrey Hanover steps forward then, making a beeline for me to let me know who I'd been assigned to. She had her jet-black hair fashioned in an attractive bob hairstyle and smiles at me in a sympathetic manner. "Why don't you come with me this way, Miss Richardson?" she asks.

I nod, knowing that I'll have to tell my story again. I walk after her as she takes me to what appears to be an interrogation room, and I sit in the offered chair. I accept her offer of water and close my hands around the glass, forcing myself to keep from shaking.

"Miss Richardson—"

"Sarah, please, Detective Hanover," I reply.

She smiles. "Call me Audrey, Sarah," she replies, sitting across from me. "Now, Sarah, can you please tell me what happened?"

I nod. "Yes. Over a week ago, on that Friday—the eighteenth—I left school early, I'm a fourth-grade teacher. I went shopping before returning to the condo I share with my best friend. We went out that night to a club..."

"And what club was that?" Audrey asks, pausing in her notes.

"The Electric Violin," I reply, feeling as if its name will always be synonymous with me and my ordeal. "Caroline's older brother Nathan is its owner."

"And Caroline is?"

"My best friend and housemate," I reply.

She nods, hesitating before continuing to write. "And then what happened, Sarah? Was going to this club a frequent Friday night activity?"

I nod. "Yes. We go every Friday."

She nodded. "Was this Friday night special in any way, or was it just a typical Friday night, long work week, let's have some fun kind of night...?"

I smile a little. "I have a twin brother, Franklin, who was away at Columbia University in New York, studying medicine. He just graduated and he's due to start his residency here. We were celebrating his homecoming," I explain to her patiently.

"I see," she says, still taking notes. "New York isn't exactly next door. I'll bet you were happy to have him back."

I nod. "Yes."

"Did you drink that evening?" she asks me. When she sees my reaction, she quickly backpedals at that. "I don't mean any disrespect, Sarah; I have to ask. Just because you're drunk, doesn't mean that the assault didn't happen, or that it was your fault. I want to make sure that you understand that."

I shake my head at her. "No, I had water—I wanted to keep my head clear for Frank's coming home. I don't really drink. I wasn't drunk that night and I've never been drunk."

She nods. "All right." She pauses and writes something down. "So your brother is home from medical school... Who else was with you?"

"Caroline has an older sister, Jessica, who was there with her now-fiancé, Scott, and we also ended up celebrating their engagement..."

"Was anyone else around that you knew?"

"Yes," I replied. "The parents of a child in my class—Paul and Stephanie Berkshaw. Paul is Richard's older brother. Stephanie and I have grown quite close; she's probably my closest friend other than Caroline, and maybe Annette, my student teacher. I talked with them both for a period before Nathan and I went to dance with the other couples."

"So there's a dance floor at the Electric Violin?"

I nod. "Yes."

"What happened on the dance floor?"

I bite my lip as I remember it clearly. "Nathan kissed me."

"Had you kissed before?"

I nod. "Yes."

"When?"

I lower my eyes, scanning the pattern of the table in front of me. "The first time was back when I was twenty-one, during a New Year's party. He also tried to kiss me when I was eighteen, as a Christmas party. Both times, I said no, and the first time he tried to kiss me I got away. The second time, he held me there and wouldn't let go..."

"And that night?"

I shrugged. "I guess he finally got it through his thick head that I really wasn't interested in him in that way."

"So he kisses you, and...?"

"I explain to him that I'm only interested in being friends," I tell her. "I walk away from him and go to the back where the restrooms are."

"And why did you go back there?"

"The music was too loud and I needed a drink of water," I say, feeling my eyes becoming hot with tears. "I got the water, and that was when I first heard the footsteps behind me. I turned and looked, and there he was, almost as if he was waiting for me."

"What did you do then?"

I bit my lip, remembering it. "I reiterated that I wasn't interested. I tried to sidestep him, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed me," I whispered, reaching up to feel the bump upon the back of my head.

"Did he hurt you further?" Audrey asked.

I nodded. "He slammed me against the wall, and then he grabbed me there, between my legs..." I promptly put my knees together at that, shuddering at the sensation of Nathan's hands invading the most secret part of myself, feeling as though I was in desperate need of a wastepaper basket. "I kicked him in his boys and he hit his head on the water fountain. He was out cold, and that's when I saw Richard."

"Richard Berkshaw followed you back there?"

I nod. "Yes."

"He was there?"

I nod again. "Yes."

"Did Richard say anything to you?"

I nodded again. "Yes. He explained that he saw what Nathan had done to me on the dance floor and that he was concerned. He then drove me home after telling me that Franklin and Caroline left together... That was why Nathan was so upset. He didn't want my brother with Caroline..."

"Is it at all possible that Nathan simply felt anger towards your brother and took it out on you?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No."

"You sound sure of that."

I raise my eyes to hers. "Quite sure."

"And why is that?" she wants to know.

I feel my fingers knotting together. "Because Ivana and Richard are in your other rooms right now, telling you their sides of the story."

"Nathan assaulted them, too?"

I nod. "Yes. He raped Ivana, and he assaulted Richard sexually. I've also got a friend named Tabitha, who's first child was fathered by Nathan as a result of rape. Who knows how long this has been happening? Who knows if it's simply ended with rape?"

There is a knock at the door then and Timothy sticks his head in. "Hey," he says kindly to the two of us. "Marlee's just got a call from you for your doctor, and as your lawyer, she needs to speak with you."

"Excuse me, please," I say, getting to my feet and following Timothy outside and into the hallway where Marlee is. She completes her conversation on the phone for a moment and turns to me. "Yes?" I ask.

She sighs. "I've just received word from your doctor, Dr. Lestrange," she says patiently. "It seems as if the fluid on your legs was a result of Nathan becoming excited by his assault of you the other night."

I lower my eyes. "I see."

Marlee sighed, reaching out and touching my shoulder. "It was compared to the sample Caroline gave earlier, and both come from the same source. Along with the videotaped evidence, we've got Nathan on one proven count of assaulting you. Until or unless those tapes turn up, all we've got is the physical evidence that Dr. Lestrange took from you the afternoon after he first assaulted you."

"And Ivana?" I ask.

She nods at that; it was a logical question, to be sure. "Fortunately, the statute of limitations hasn't run out for her just yet, and under normal circumstances, we'd be able to get Nathan for statutory rape," she says quietly.

I looked up at her. "Really? That's great!"

Marlee looked uncomfortable then. "Unfortunately, Ivana did not report it when it happened, which means that we will be unable to get physical evidence from her. I'm unsure if the jury, any jury, would be willing to put him away for that under her testimony alone, not to mention the laws here..."

"Laws? What laws?" I demand. "She was seventeen, and a minor, therefore the law should recognize that she was unable to properly give consent!"

Marlee shakes her head at me. "Unfortunately, that's not how it works, Sarah. First-degree statutory accounts for the victim being less than twelve and the perp has to be two years older. Second-degree means that Ivana would have to have been older than twelve but less than fourteen, in which case Nathan would be three years older. Third-degree is if the victim is fourteen or fifteen, placing Nathan at four years older."

I shake my head at her, baffled. "So what you're saying is, that the law essentially protects Nathan from committing statutory with Ivana?!" I cry.

Marlee sighs. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Same goes for Tabby then," I say, turning away from Marlee then. I feel angry tears prick at my eyes as I slam my fist, hard, into the concrete wall. "God dammit..." I bite my lip as I lower my eyes to my hand, which is now in pretty bad shape as my blood covers and drips down the wall. "Fuck..."

Timothy manages to find some sanitary napkins and some gauze so he and Marlee make quick work of bandaging my hand up.

"Based on your testimony alone, without being able to be convicted of statutory, Nathan's looking at thirty-six months in custody with the correct lawyer," Marlee tells me quietly, as I turn and lock my eyes to hers. "The maximum term would be sixteen years and three months and the minimum is thirteen years and nine months," she tells me, and I swear under my breath again. "Unfortunately, there is no way that Nathan could stay there that long and not be paroled."

"I had a member of the team here do a profile on him as soon as we got the information about Tabitha, versus the information on the two times he attacked you," Timothy says softly, and I turn to look at him.

"Really?" I ask, my tone unemotional. "What was found?"

"Nathan's M.O. is all about power, and he gains the power through dominance and sexual gratification by making sure that his victims cannot get away. He attempts to guilt them during his attack by informing his prey that they're asking for it, or that they belong to him in some way, which, in his mind, makes the attack justifiable in some way."

I shake my head. "God... Really makes you want to get inside his head, but having a firearm would be helpful..."

"No firearms," Marlee says, giving me a smile.

I turn and look back at Audrey, who has returned to her desk, but probably will want to ask me about Nathan's second attack. Getting to my feet, I thank Marlee and Timothy and continue on my way back to the room. Audrey is quite understanding about the whole thing and allows me to be brief on the second attack, but I manage to give her the important details. Ivana and Richard are finished with their interviews soon thereafter and, since it is getting late, we all decide to return to our respective homes.

Richard suggests to Ivana that she take a break from school, and she agrees, deciding to return in the new year, after the Christmas holidays. After the plane ride, Richard takes me home and I send a quick text to Franklin, informing him of my whereabouts. Franklin tells me that he and Caroline are contemplating moving in together, so I wonder what my living situation would turn out to be in the meanwhile.

I kiss Richard goodnight and head inside my parent's house, heading straight upstairs and into a shower. After my shower, it is around ten-thirty, and I decide to head to bed. I gather my things for school the following morning, and select and outfit, hanging it on the outside of my wardrobe. I plug in my phone and hope that it charges properly throughout the night, and check in for any last minute text messages or emails. Finding none, I set my phone's alarm for seven the next morning and drift off to sleep.

I am walking in a field of wildflowers, a soft, cool breeze flitting about me. The sky is overcast but the day itself feels humid, warm, almost as if a summer shower is about to take place. I hear my name being called and, turning, I see a smiling Richard, standing by the edge of the field in front of me. I find myself giving out a cry of joy and I run across the field to him, some of the wildflowers shooting into the air and their petals becoming tangled in my hair as I get closer to him.

Richard grabs me as soon as I've reached him, and he leans down to kiss me. I feel suddenly reckless then as I throw my arms around his neck. I want him then as he wants me, and know that we will make love in that field. I feel a slight giggle escaping forth from my lips, but suddenly it turns to revulsion when his hand descends below my waist and cups me there.

"This is mine," he growls in a voice not his own.

Feeling the goose bumps upon my flesh, I raise my eyes to his, and find I am screaming when Nathan's eyes look back at me.

My screams seeps forth into the real world when suddenly a great blaring comes into my thoughts. My eyes shoot open, and I find myself staring at the cause of the blaring: my phone, announcing that seven a.m. has come and I need to get ready. I throw back my comforter and get to my feet, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I cross the room to my wardrobe. I gather the plum colored blazer and skirt and make a grab for the white tank top to go underneath the blazer. I step into everything, along with a pair of skin-colored pantyhose and my typical black heels.

I head into my bathroom and drag a brush through my hair, and I somehow manage to get it to stay neat around my face. Brushing my teeth quickly, I put on an appropriate lipstick along with a bit of blush and mascara before switching off the light and grabbing my purse and my satchel. I head downstairs a bit after seven-thirty, declining my parent's offer of a home cooked meal for breakfast and instead grab an energy bar. Kissing them both, I head into the garage to collect my car.

Strapping myself in, I make the thirty-minute drive across town to Ivy Door Academy. The traffic is not terrible that morning, and I manage to arrive only a bit after eight. As I step inside, I head straight for the secretary's office, and wonder how Mrs. Mitchell's attitude will be that morning. I smile at her and fill out the customary paperwork that any teacher must fill out after a period of absence and raise my eyes upward when Dean Channing's office door opens rather unexpectedly.

"Seraphina, wonderful to have you back," he says to me, smiling at me with his kind expression. He is African American, a few inches taller than me, with the whitest hair you could ever hope to find. Always wore a suit of some kind to work with wonderfully patterned ties that the students adored. "Would you join me in my office, please? Won't take more than a few minutes."

"Of course, Michael," I reply, smiling at Mrs. Mitchell before crossing the room and stepping into his office.

He shuts the door behind me and heads over to his desk. "I've just gotten off the phone with Tabitha Baxter-Davidson."

"Oh," I reply, feeling slightly fazed at that, my eyebrows raise as I take his offer to sit across from him. "A bit early, isn't it? I suppose she wants her children to take the entrance exam as soon as possible."

"Yes, and we've scheduled the exam," he replies. "Jeremiah will be taking it with James Coolidge tomorrow at three, Henrietta with you at the same time, and little Gabriel will be taking his exam with Rita Silver. I'm told all three children are extremely well-behaved and that they are either on par or advanced in various skills."

"Annette would have to take over my last lesson, although I'm sure that won't be an issue for her," I reply. "She's been experimenting with various art mediums with the children of my classroom lately, and we both read recently in an article that either playing games or doing something creative at the end of a school day calms the children for the transition of a different background ahead."

"Annette teaches the children other things, doesn't she?" asks Michael in a rather concerned voice. "This wouldn't be a problem if she was studying to be an art teacher, but she would need to work with Amber Savage if that was the case..."

I shake my head. "No, it's part of her degree. Each month she has to focus on a different subject to teach them. This month, it's art. October is English, November is math, December is history, January is science... The list goes on, Michael, with February being poetry, March being literature, April being creative writing, with May and June being used for general testing to assist the students in moving to the grade ahead."

"Seems as though you've done your research," he replies.

"I've never seen such a program," I reply. "I think it's innovative and a very good way to tackle potentially difficult subjects. With this program, you're not constantly going from one subject to the next with the assistant teacher. With me, it's all right, because I'm the main teacher, and the kids are used to that schedule every day. With the assistant teacher, the tone is different and they have a potentially harder time listening or paying attention to that because children will frequently balk at something potentially new and seemingly uninteresting. The curriculum that Annette is focusing on is the fact that kids must be drawn to the lesson within five minutes, otherwise they will feel trapped and forced to do the lesson."

"An interesting way of looking at it," Michael says. "Well, I can tell you that Annette is doing a wonderful job and that she will be a wonderful addition to the faculty and staff next fall. With her doing so well in the program, we are considering allowing the both of you to participate in it next year. What do you think about that?"

I smile at him. "While nobody could replace Annette's methods, I would be proud to welcome another assistant teacher next year."

Michael nods when his phone rings. He checks the caller I.D. and tells me that he must take the call. Nodding, I get to my feet and thank him for his time before excusing myself and going to my classroom. Unlocking the door, I find that Annette has kept the place almost completely immaculate—a shocking feat with twenty students crammed in a classroom—and am pleased that I've left the children in her hands the past week.

Getting to my desk, I fire up my computer and check my school email to see if I've missed anything. With no emails unaccounted for, I quickly send something to Tabby informing her of the decision regarding her children and let her know that Henrietta's competency test will take place the following afternoon at three. When nine o'clock looms, I log out of my email and quickly dash outside in order to meet my students.

Annette is waiting outside with them, and we share a brief hug before the rest of the boys and girls from our class converge into a line. After a gaggle of excitement after my return, I thank them all again for their get-well card as we all head inside. Each child makes their way to his or her desk and quickly gets out their necessary materials before we prepare for their reading tests. They answer the questions effortlessly and each child passes accordingly. We then do a math worksheet and prepare for our science experiment. Then it is time for morning recess and the children soon scatter.

As Annette grades their reading tests in the teacher's lounge, I am shocked when I see Marlee's name and number pop up on my phone. I quickly slide the green phone icon to the right and put it up against my ear.

"Hello?"

"Sarah, it's Marlee," she says gravely. "Timothy's on his way to the Electric Violin now. We've managed to successfully track Nathan's movements and he's there, so he's got his squad ready to grab him."

I find I am shaking. "Oh," I reply. "And then what happens?"

"Nathan will be brought in for questioning, but if he doesn't understand his rights or if he lawyers up—which he just might because, as a guilty man, he will probably want to evade questioning—he won't be obligated to answer any of Timothy's questions. He may be a total douchebag, Sarah, but the law is on his side—innocent until proven guilty."

"He's guilty," I reply.

"I know that. Timothy has also managed to get a warrant for his apartment Downtown to see about the tapes. Nathan doesn't seem to be that quick on his feet, and, knowing perps like him, he would have kept the tapes," Marlee says darkly to me.

"Keep them?" I demand. "I know he's a sick bastard, Marlee, but why keep them? Assume he commits murder and the police search his apartment at a later time and end up coming across them?"

"He keeps them to get off, Sarah," Marlee tells me point blank. "He keeps them—or other pieces of memorabilia or trophies—hidden in a special place so that when he's assured of being along, and if he wants to have a little fun, he will use them to revisit the events. Ivana told me that he kept the pair of panties she was wearing when he raped her—at least, he took them with him after he left her. And with Tabby, I heard he took some of her hair. Just because we've got the same perp, doesn't automatically mean that he'll take the same kind of trophy."

"That's sick, Marlee, beyond sick," I whisper.

"It is. Now I want you to listen to me—we are tracking Nathan's movements, and Timothy has a few dozen men on him. There is no way that he can get to you at any time. However, just in case, I want you to keep your phone on you, on vibrate, at all times. Now, be honest with me, Sarah, does he know exactly where your parents live? I know he was there the other night, but he was drunk, and it was dark..."

"Yes," I reply. "He came over all the time when me and Frank were little, and when Caroline lived there, he was over even more. But, it's probably the safer bet since the condo is within ten minutes from the Electric Violin..."

"Okay. Here's what's going to happen. If something goes wrong in his snatching and arrest, you're ordered to go to your parents' house. I assume they have a high-tech security system of some kind?"

"Yes, just installed a year ago," I reply. "Best there is."

"And you know all the passwords?"

"Yes, I've house-sat for them before..."

"Okay. If you get a call from me about Nathan, let the school know so that you can run. I want you in that house, with doors locked, windows barred, and ever key code or password in place. Now...do you keep a gun?"

I sigh, knowing that this is bad. "Yes. In my car. I have a concealed weapons permit and everything. My boss knows about it and is okay with it as long as it stays locked up and hidden in my car at all times."

"Take it inside with you and hide in your bedroom—remember, with windows and doors locked—and get under your bed if you can. With your phone beside you, we will let you know if this goes awry. You got me?"

"I got you," I reply.

"Good. Timothy is picking Nathan up in under an hour. Don't worry, Sarah, we're gonna get him."

"Gee, I hope so," I reply, hanging up.

I don't get a call from Marlee until four, after school has been over for almost an hour. I am sitting in my bedroom at my parents' house, answering emails from potentially concerned parents, when my phone suddenly lights up. I move to make a move to answer the phone when I see that it is from her.

"Marlee," I say into the phone. "What's happening?"

"We've got him," she says, relief in her voice. "Timothy and his boys did very well. Sorry it took so long to get back to you—I had to help with the processing paperwork since I'm assigned to you in the case."

"It's all right... Was he belligerent...?"

She sighs. "Of course," she says, her voice annoyed. "Denied everything, even gave another DNA sample, almost as if to prove that he didn't touch you. I just don't know what's going through his head when he was willing to give it. His most recent sample isn't back yet and it won't be for another two days. I'm just about to head into court now on your behalf. I'm going to request that Nathan be remanded without bail for what he's done to you. I think, since the tape of him breaking and entering into your house and assaulting you has been entered into evidence—and that Dr. Lestrange will be a witness and her medical results are admissible—and due to the fact that his DNA is all over you, our case will be fantastic. DNA doesn't lie, Sarah. We're going to get him."

"Thank you," I reply.

Richard comes over and waits with me by the phone for Marlee to get back to us on the verdict of the trial. We order Chinese takeout and attempt not to get the shavings from the cheap chopsticks into our dinner, when finally, I grow more than a little annoyed and fetch the proper ones from a kitchen drawer. Marlee calls back a little after six, just as we've begun eating.

"Marlee," I say, gripping Richard's hand. "Tell us... What's going on?"

"Judge took everything out of context," she snaps. "Sorry, just mad at this asshole... Pretty much, he said that he believed Nathan's lawyer that he is acting like a love struck teenager and shouldn't be proven guilty without a proper trial. He completely ignored any evidence that I had put forth in his guilt of what he did to you. Incredible..."

"But where is he now?" Richard asks. "He's in jail until trial, right?"

"Oh, Sarah, Richard... No. Since Nathan has no prior offenses, the judge turned him lose until trial."

"Lose?" I whisper. "No..."

"He's been ordered to stay away from you, so I suggest you remain at your parents' house for the time being," Marlee instructs me. "Nathan is not allowed to leave Seattle, and is instructed to go to work and go home. For groceries, he is instructed to order directly for delivery from Amazon. He is only permitted in his apartment Downtown and The Electric Violin, Sarah. Don't worry. Once a grand jury sees him, he'll be sorry."

Marlee says goodbye shortly thereafter and I hang up. I turn immediately into Richard's arms and weep openly. He rubs my back and whispers sweet nothings into my ear, telling me that we're going to get him and that I don't need to worry about a thing. Mom and Dad are out at yet another function, and Franklin is over at the condo with Caroline again, so there is no question what happens between us next.

I feel utterly pathetic as I peek up at him before placing my hand upon his cheek and bringing his lips down to meet mine. He kisses me willingly, but once I deepen the kiss and move to lie on top of him, he pulls away from me and shake his head. Richard then claims that I'm too upset and that we probably shouldn't do what I'm thinking.

"Richard, I need this," I whisper. "Please."

A smile picks up at the corners of his mouth, and his dimples excite me to no end, causing me to shiver. He places his hands gently upon my shoulders and moves them downward, towards the small of my back, and cups me there momentarily, pulling me on top of him. We seem to mold to one another, perfect pieces to life's complicated jigsaw puzzle.

"I don't want you becoming so dependent on this..."

I space my legs a bit so as I've mounted him, and he shudders under me as I do this. "You make this sound as if this isn't a permanent arrangement," I say, leaning down slightly to take his lower lip into my mouth.

'And you make it sound like a business deal," Richard counters.

I raise my hands to the buttons upon his shirt and unbutton them, one by one, flushing a bit as I feel his eyes on me. I then raise my arms and allow him to take off my shirt, which he does with ease. "Not a business arrangement," I say, sighing in delight as he removes my bra and takes my breasts into his hands and squeezing them gently.

"How's that?"

I lean down and proceed to kiss his neck. "Because this would be the very definition of an inappropriate business arrangement," I reply.

Richard grins, taking me by the hips and flipping me over onto my back and proceeds to suck on my breasts, while I tangle my fingers in his hair. He removes his pants and socks in a hurry, while I manage to get out of my skirt in one fell swoop. He slides off the bed and removes his boxers, removing a condom from his pants' pocket, and prepares himself before getting onto the bed again. I wrap my legs around his torso and feel myself inadvertently moan as he enters me then. His mouth is on mine again and I don't want this to stop—his mouth on me, him inside me—for the never ending bliss that I feel is too wonderful to pass up.

I gasp a little as he moves inside me then, and I know it then, but I don't say it. I've known it for an entire day, but I won't let myself say the words aloud. It's too soon, too soon to say these words.

I was falling in love with Richard Berkshaw.