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1
Vivian
I needed to get laid.
There. I’d said it.
It was something I had been trying to ignore, but the problem was becoming unavoidable.
I was sexually frustrated.
I threw my pen on my desk and vaulted out of my chair, so I could pace my tiny office, hoping to clear my mind. I shouldn’t be occupied with thinking about rough, masculine hands exploring my body or the tight pinch when a man pushed inside me. No, my focus should be on my career.
Over the past few years, I’d been working hard at my law firm and wasthis closeto making partner. At least, I hoped I was. And that was why I needed to concentrate on what was important—my client receiving a fair settlement for harassment from her previous employer.
The thing was, my body could not get on board with my brain because I kept fantasizing about sex. The kind that would leave me wondering if I had any brain cells left. Orgasms were my stress relief, and the self-induced ones weren’t doing it for me anymore.
“Ms. Stern, are you okay?” my assistant said, her body halfway through the doorway.
I hadn’t even noticed she had stuck her head in. That wasn’t a good sign. I prided myself on being observant.
“I’m fine,” I told her.
Amanda stepped into the room. “I’ve been with you for over three years now, and you seem a little on edge. Is there anything I can help with?”
My assistant was very good at her job, which was saying something because I shared her with two other associates, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her, but we weren’t what one would call friends. There was no way I could tell her I was thinking about sex.
“I could run and get you a coffee?” Amanda offered when I didn’t answer.
Not that I needed more caffeine.
“That’s actually a good idea,” I told her.
“Great.” She smiled at my praise. “Do you want your usual?”
“No. I think, today, I’m going to go and get it myself.”
“Oh,” she said with raised eyebrows.
“Yeah.” I pulled my purse from my bottom desk drawer. “I need a break.”
As I walked past Amanda and out of my office, I heard her mutter in awe, “But you never take a break.”
She was right. Normally, I didn’t need one, but up until three months ago, I’d had a live-in boyfriend of six years. Until he broke up with me out of the blue, citing that we rarely saw each other and the only time we spent together was to share the occasional meal, have sex, or sleep. He wasn’t wrong.
With me being a lawyer and him working in finance, we both led very busy lives, but I thought it worked well for us. I didn’t demand a lot of attention from him because I didn’t need it, and I got the same back. Perfect situation. But evidently, he’d wanted someone more involved in his life.
I couldn’t blame him, but I also couldn’t be that person for him. Especially when he’d brought up wanting children. I couldn’t get pregnant and have a child. I was looking at making partner, and as arbitrary and misogynistic as the workplace was against working mothers, I couldn’t change the system. I could only work within it, and I was not risking partnership by taking maternity leave.
Unfortunately, now that I was single, it also meant I wasn’t getting sex regularly. And I hadn’t known how badly I needed it until I wasn’t getting it anymore. I had always been a sexual person, but throughout my life, I had also apparently been spoiled by having various boyfriends to cater to my needs.
I rounded the corner as I made my way to the elevator just as Preston St. James III stuck his head out of his large corner office and bellowed, “Where the hell is Schmidt?”
Preston’s assistant stood up, panic on her face, and said, “Mr. St. James, Mr. Schmidt had to cancel your meeting. I was just coming to tell you.”
He scowled. “Whatever for?”
Preston was one of the managing partners with his name on the door at Benowitz & St. James, and he had always been rough around the edges, but ever since his divorce, he’d been moodier than usual.
