Richard

"Good morning!" says Georgina with unusual verve. She swings into the conference room in her usual drab fare, hair still damp at the ends. She doesn't look hungover in the least. She doesn't look like last night, she laid herself before me, and let me touch her until she came.

"How are you, Mr. Platton?"

I find myself smiling mildly. "Satisfied," I say, amused at her jolted expression. "And you, Ms. Felton?"

"Very — well," she stammers, quickly trying to compose herself. She sets up her workspace hastily, twice dropping a pen she has to scramble under the conference room table to recover. "Have all your guests left?"

"Most are in town. They'll hang around a bit before flying back." I lean my chin on my hand, observing her with interest. My jealous rage at seeing her with Blake last night is almost entirely eclipsed by the memory of what I did to her. Almost.

"What were you doing last night, by the way? In all of the... fervor, I didn't get to ask. Did you feel like taking a late-night