Just One Night

?Angel, there?s Fedex for you.?

And for a second you are numb. For a second the office fades away, and all of the world reduces itself to the envelope being held out to you. It is Him. You just know it. He needs you. With a less than steady hand you reach out and take the envelope, signing for it.

When the courier has left your desk, you sit for a moment, staring at it. Finally, with a deep breath you open it. Inside is a note, handwritten on an elegant laid linen card.

?After work, corner of 8th and Main. ?Drew?

Your heart pounds in your chest. He is going to have you tonight. You know you shouldn?t go, but you know you will. Glancing at the clock, you realize that there is only a half hour left in the day. You make phone calls, begging excuses. Sister sick, going to take care of her? Working late, staying in the city? You settle on the sick sister, as it will give you the entire night and all of tomorrow.

You gather your things and shut off the computer.

5:10 PM

A limo glides up to the corner or 8th and Main, and you have no doubt that it is for you. The elderly English chauffeur steps out and opens the door for you with a tip of his hat. ?Good evening, Miss? ?Good evening.?

The door closes, cocooning you in a world of soft leather and light cool and filtered by the smoked glass windows. You close your eyes, wondering what the evening will bring, and knowing that certainly, you will be made love to. Perhaps gently, perhaps wildly, but definitely completely. His hunger for you is a flame that burns between the two of you, a warmth you carry through your day, knowing how completely, how totally he adores you. You are surprised to find that one hand has drifted to your thigh, bare under your sensible office suit skirt, and is lightly tracing up and down the soft white skin.

5:22PM

The limo glides to a stop. A second later James opens the door, and you step out onto the tarmac of a private airport. A few yards away stands a private jet, black, sleek, engines running at idle. The pilot approaches.

?Good evening ma?am, I?m John Diehl, I?ll be your pilot tonight. If you?re ready, we can get going now??

He escorts you onto the plane and seals the hatch.

?Make yourself comfortable, flight time should be just about an hour. Drew asked that I give you this-? he hands you an envelope in the same elegant linen the note was written on. And if you?ll take a seat we?ll be off.

The interior of the plane is simple and elegant, the seats wide, soft, upholstered in cream colored leather.

As the plane takes off you open the envelope.

?Angel,

So glad you could be here. Do not worry, you will be back at home by morning tomorrow. Everything you need, I have arranged for you in advance. Go through the aft hatch, and you will find a surprise.

Drew?

You walk to the rear of the plane and find a doorway. You open it, and step into a small bedroom done in maroon and chocolate brown, Tiffany lamps cast a warm glow on the space, and there on the bed, you see the outfit laid out.

The lingerie by itself would be a gift from God. French, and handmade, the stockings are elegant, black, sewn for you and you alone. The shoes are Manolo-open toed slingback pumps in black velvet and winking with what are either rhinestones or?diamonds? The dress is sin itself, again black and laced with stones, but so sheer it is little more than a thigh length sheath of glittering smoke. The jacket that goes over it is short, in crushed black velvet, lying there on the bed like a dream of midnight. And above are the boxes, in that marvelous pale turquoise, bearing the logo Tiffany