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Is she really thinking of selling her stocks in Pacifica and leaving?
That's it – we fucked and it's screwed with her mind.
She's one of those women who doesn't fuck around. She only has serious relationships – hasn't she told me that for years? Yet, she fucked me.
Now she regrets it. It's not in her to just have casual sex with someone – even someone she really likes. I've always known that.
What the fuck was I thinking, breaching that divide between us that kept us professional?
I wanted to have my cake and eat it, too.
India and Pacifica have always gone hand in hand for me. I've always wanted them both – together, preferably. I thought I could have them both.
I hope I wasn't wrong.
I don't want to go back to my apartment alone, so I call up my old friend Dan from the Army and invite him for a drink. He's only too happy to meet me. We used to surf together, and did some base jumping down in South America one year. He's a wild man and loves the adrenaline rush as much as I do.
We meet at a local bar just down the block from where I live.
He looks just the same as before – tall, heavy-set but ripped, a big fucker with a head of jet black hair and bulging muscles under a white t-shirt and jeans.
We clasp hands and hug briefly before sitting down at the bar and catching up on what we've both been up to.
"I know Pacifica's doing well," Dan says after a long pull on his draft beer. "I saw some report on CNBC that mentioned you guys."
"It is doing well," I say, and tell him about our recent contracts with the Defense Department. As for Dan, he's a consultant in a security company and is thinking of starting his own business.
"So, what about that pretty CTO of yours?" he asks me. "India? Is she still there?"
"She is," I say, remembering how Dan hung around India when he met her a couple of years ago.
"Is she still single?" he asks, his expression unreadable. "She was one pretty little filly."
I laugh at his tone. "You liked her," I say and it's a statement, not a question.
"I did," he says, finally smiling. "What's she doing? Is she married yet?"
"No," I say, then I tell him about us. "In fact, we kind of got together recently, but I'm not sure if things will work out."
"Oh, that's too bad," he says, genuinely sympathetic. "It must be hard to have a relationship with a business partner. Especially when it doesn’t work out."
I s
hrug. "I'm fine with it, but she's uncomfortable. We're trying to figure things out."
"Well, I hope it works out for you."
We talk some more about his life and how he's dating again after the divorce, and is looking for a new woman who could be a mother to his two children, whom he has shared custody of.
"So you're totally domesticated, are you?" I say with a laugh.
"Happily," he replies, holding up his glass of beer. "A man without the love of a good woman is only a shell."
I laugh and take a drink. "Speak for yourself. I'm not a shell."
"Of course you aren’t," he says. "But a man can only take so much meaningless pussy before he craves something real."
I don't say anything in response.
