It’s Monday, and I have a 9 a.m. Zoom meeting in twenty minutes. I haven’t showered, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t plan to turn on my camera. I have my coffee, a piece of toast, and I’m already mentally checked out.

I sit down and open my email and immediately notice a name among the thirty-plus unopened Monday-morning emails.

It’s from a familiar name, William Rogers. It read:

I googled you and found that you’re a college professor. That’s so amazing! It’s so wonderful to see how successful you are. I hope you are doing great and that life is treating you well.

If you ever want to catch up, my cell is: 452-888-7643. I’d love to hear from you.

Best, Billy

My heart literally stops beating, and I have no air. Seriously, where’s the fucking air? What the entire fuck.

I take a slow, deep breath. Closing my eyes, I push my fingertips into my eyelids for a moment before reading it again to see if I’m still asleep and dreaming.

Nope, it’s here, an email and a cell number. I haven’t spoken to him in 30 years, but now that I've processed it's real, do I hesitate to reach out? Fuck no.

I call immediately.

He picks right up.

“No fucking way,” he exclaims loudly. “You called! How are you,” he says quickly.

I start to speak, but he immediately cuts me off. “Hey, can we FaceTime?”

“Sure,” I manage to squeak out as the FaceTime notification pops up. I answer and see his grinning face.

“Oh man, El, it’s so great to see you. You look great, damn, I knew you would.”

I’m sitting at my desk, the phone propped up, not feeling great, but it still makes me smile to hear his comments and his obvious excitement.

He looked better than great. Of course he did. He was the “it” boy back in the day. The boy every girl wanted, the one all my friends begged me to set them up with, because he was my best friend.

And he was, he was my everything back then. My best friend, my secret crush, my biggest fan, my only weakness.

God, we share a million memories, and they were all flashing in my mind, but one always stands out the most.

There was a tragedy; he and his brother were in an accident as teens. He lived; his brother didn't. His world slowly fell apart afterward, and I became collateral damage. Not intentional, just one of life’s cruel turns. We tried to stay in touch, but life and distance did what they do.

“Wow,” I declare, staring at those amber-colored hazel eyes. “It’s kind of unfair seeing you looking the same after all this time.”

Actually, he looked even better. Rugged. Handsome. Annoyingly so.

We gabbed for at least half an hour. He’s divorced, has two teenagers, and is a successful real estate millionaire in Las Vegas. But right now? He looks like he’s playing the part of a sexy buff mechanic.

I realized I am completely missing my Zoom meeting. I mean, I’m present, I logged on at 0900, but left my camera off, and I haven’t listened to a thing.

“So do you keep in touch with any of your old girlfriends you used to pimp me out to,” he laughs, his smile spreading across his face.

“Pimp you out,” I furrow my brows and scoff. “What are you talking about?” my voice drawn out and dramatic.

“Man,” he adds carefully, voice steady but heavy, “it used to break my heart every time you said one of your friends wanted my number. It was like you would do anything to distract me, to deliberately steer me away from what I felt for you.”

I stare at the screen, at his face, searching, not comprehending what he just said.

“What,” he half-laughs. “You gonna deny it?”

I hesitate, my voice glitching. “I have no idea what you’re saying, Billy. Seriously. I… I’m at a loss,” I mutter.

“Come on! You can’t tell me you didn’t know,” he says, his voice cracking with disbelief, fingers dragging through his hair. “It consumed me. Years of my life.”

I pause. “I’m genuinely confused,” I respond, and I mean it.

How could it be true? I was a nobody. He was rich, handsome, and popular. I couldn’t fathom why he even wanted to be my friend back then, let alone what? Date me? Preposterous.

“Billy, honestly, if that’s true, I had no idea. It’s hard even to comprehend. I never thought you’d be interested in me like that,” I admit.

“Wow, really? That’s wild to me. I just assumed you weren’t interested,” he smirks, voice clipped, shaking his head.

“So wait, let me get this straight, what you’re saying,” I tease, “is I chose years of emotional chaos and sexual frustration over having a torrid and hot affair with the man I still fantasize about? Fantastic.”

He laughs, sharp and amused. “Yeah… I guess you didn’t notice me trying to kiss you, touch you, monopolize all your free time. Talk on the phone for hours, every single day. I mean, I asked and took you to every school dance,” he scoffs. “Confusing, sure.” He rolls his eyes with a wicked grin.

“Rude, I’m over here regretting all my life choices, and you’re making jokes.”

“Well, your life ain’t over yet, babe.” He purses his lips, shrugging. “Come to Las Vegas,” he nods toward me. “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing,” he winks at me and licks his lips.

My mouth goes dry, and my eyes immediately flicker to the picture on my desk of my husband and me. I exhale hard.

“Seriously, even now, you’d be interested in this old woman?” I laugh, half-kidding.

His voice drops. Smooth, controlled, dangerous. “You were a kid back then. And damn, I couldn't get enough of you. Now you’re a woman, and you’re sexy as hell.”

He pauses a beat. My chest feels tight.

“Fuck yes, I’m interested. When can you get here?” he adds.

Goddammit. His words give me goosebumps from head to toe. How does he still have this effect on me? My mind reels, running every scenario forward, backward, and sideways. I manage to spit out, “In a few weeks. I would need to make plans.”

“Okay, babe,” he says, eyes dark, smirk curling, “but until then, let me give you a sneak peek.”

He stands, unbuttoning his pants, and my stomach flips in a way that makes my breath catch. My eyes dart to my computer screen, to my Zoom meeting, cameras on, faces staring, completely oblivious to the storm inside me.

A message buzzes across my cell phone: “Did you hear what this bitch just said?!” My work bestie. I fumble for my phone: “OMG, no, I can’t believe it!” I quickly reply, swiping the message from my view. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

Now, all I can see is him.

Him. And nothing else.

And God, when his pants fell away, it dropped heavily, already halfway there. And it was just as some of my friends had described, large. Very large. Broad and commanding. My heart is racing, and heat rushes between my legs.

“So, babe,” he murmurs, “still regretting your life choices?”

“It’s actually obscene, and definitely making me rethink everything,” I admit quietly before my better judgment can stop me.

He laughs. “God, I’ve missed you,” he says a bit breathlessly, as he spits into his hand and runs it down the underside of his manhood, his thumb pressing down on the top, squeezing, making it look even more imposing than it already was.

Fuck, that’s hot.

“Babe,” he says melodically, “I’ve waited long enough, don’t ya think?” He cocks his head. “Thirty years, to be exact,” he adds, pouting playfully, but his translucent hazel eyes are pleading with me to join him.

I set the phone back farther and position myself in the lens view. “Can you see me,” I ask as I settle back against my chair. He nods, biting his lip.

I watch him there, backed against the wall, looking as confident as ever. His faded jeans slung low on his hips, barefoot, black T-shirt stretched across those broad shoulders.

He reaches behind his neck, hooks his fingers in the collar, lifts it over his head, and lets it fall at his feet, revealing a chest and torso that sees the inside of a gym regularly.

“Jesus,” I breathe, my voice tight, as I unbutton my top. “Dammit, Billy, you look better than ever. You're making me feel a little self-conscious.”

He has a grin on his face. “You’re just as beautiful as I remember.”

He licks his lips as he continues his steady rhythm, and I am completely undone watching him, barely able to keep a thought in my head.

My shirt and bra hang unfastened, my pants bunched at my ankles.

“Spread those legs, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick and lingering, echoing through the room like he’s right there.

I obey.

Heart hammering.

He stares, eyes hungry. “Definitely worth the wait,” he hums.

I am so turned on just by the sight of him, the way he moves, the teasing in his gestures. My fingers are responding to the ache between my legs.

The camera perched on his dresser, he walks slowly toward it. He turns his ball cap backward, casting a shadow over his glassy eyes, his thick, wavy black hair curling loosely at his neck.

“El, imagine my fingers on your chest, twisting, my tongue and mouth warm and wet  around the sharp sensation.”

One hand between my legs, the other instinctively playing out his words, bringing my own lips where I imagine his should be.

Closer to the frame, he rolls his tongue around in his mouth and spits right at the camera, then slowly runs his thumb over the screen, clearing my view back to him.

The act of it sets every single nerve in my body on fire. I immediately run my fingers over my tongue and bring them back between my legs.

“That’s it, baby girl. Spit on her for me,” his voice deeper, darker.

He never takes his eyes off me.

God, what I wouldn’t give to feel the heat of his body as I run my tongue over his skin.

“Girl, don’t stop. I’m almost there,” he growls. “Now slowly… slide those fingers deep inside,” he breathes, not stopping his own motion.

I obey.

“Now, baby, put them in your mouth,” he commands.

I bring them to my lips, glistening and warm. I run them slowly over my tongue, closing my lips around each finger, leaving them wet, and going back for more.

“Good girl,” he whispers, sending even more heat between my thighs.

He directs me to do this again and again, deliberately and controlled, until his body finally loses control and he lets out his heat all over, some of it hitting the lens. “Fuuuuuuck!” he shouts, his voice trembling.

Seeing him climax is so arousing, it sends my own body into an orgasm so powerful it makes my thighs shake.

Breathless, we both stare into the screen, chests heaving.

“Goddamn, girl! That was as hot as any sex I’ve ever had.” Excitement tingles in his voice. “Shit, I knew it would be with you. Fuck, I can’t wait a few weeks. You need to get your ass out here. Time’s up. Let’s do this,” he demands, cleaning himself up and buttoning his jeans.

“I’m buying your plane ticket right now. I don’t care what you say, you’re coming.” He picks up his phone, cleaning it with his shirt, and starts typing while still on FaceTime.

“Go pack. I’ll send the flight info in a few minutes.” He nods and blows me a kiss. “Rest up, baby girl. You’re going to need it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winks, and the line disconnects.

I slump against the back of my desk chair, my heart still hammering. Spent, I can’t even form a coherent thought. Seriously… like what the fuck just happened?!

I feel excited and nervous at the same time. And I can barely sit still, and somehow I have another hour trapped in this Zoom meeting. I groan, throwing my head back.

Fuck that. I exit the Zoom.

I need a believable lie to tell my husband why I'm headed to Vegas with zero notice. And I need to pack. Right. Fucking. Now.