To men, women are fascinating creatures.

Intriguing, unfathomable and, perhaps most importantly – formidable.

Most of the time, they're one step ahead of us. They know how to get what they want. Usually they can convince us it's what we wanted all along.

Guys catch on eventually. Usually after it’s too late to do anything about it.

But every now and then, a guy outsmarts a girl.

Or does he?

In my senior year of college, after two years of putting in my time on the staff of my college newspaper, I was named editor in chief.

It was a paid, part-time job, but it came with perks: An office of my own, a premium parking place on campus, and a staff of bright, bubbly, eager-to-please, young reporters. Most of them hungry for the big stories and plum assignments.

Most of them women.

Though I had worked my way up from reporter to assistant editor to editor in chief, I still was the same guy I was before. Same dark, brown hair with eyes to match. Same disarming smile that I had learned comes in handy on tough interviews.

I wore the same faded Levi's, the same tweed sport coat, fraying slightly at the sleeves – the only one I could afford. I drove the same nine year-old car I’d had since high school.

Not much was different about me. Only now, to my surprise, I discovered I’d become a minor babe magnet – at least in the minds of some of the women on my staff.

I’d discovered first-hand that power and position is an aphrodisiac. I couldn't believe my great, good fortune to be surrounded by so many smart, clever, attractive women vying for my time and attention.

And I couldn't believe my rotten luck.

By rotten luck, I mean, I was the boss. I planned on a career in journalism, so I’d have to keep things strictly professional with the women under me – no matter how much I fantasized about what it really would be like to have them under me.

My colleagues, however, never got the memo.

I was home late one evening, on a chilly, windy, evening in January, having put the paper to bed and getting ready to do the same to myself, when the phone rang just as I brushing my teeth.

As I reached for the phone while spitting toothpaste out of my mouth, I wondered: Did a fire break out on campus? Did the printing presses break down again?

“Jay!” came a frantic voice.

“Yes, who is it?” I asked, struggling to talk around the last bit of toothpaste in my mouth.

“It's Christy!” hissed a voice, coming into focus as one of my assistant editors, two years younger than me.

Normally I thought her voice was oh-so-sexy. In the newsroom, there were times we'd be talking, but I wouldn't be hearing what she was saying, only how she was saying it in that breathy alto of hers.

This time, her voice sounded oh-so-scared.

“What's up?” I asked, becoming concerned.

“Someone's in my house!” she said in a stage whisper.

“What?!”

“Someone's in my house!” she repeated a little louder this time.

I froze for a moment.

“I need you!” she pleaded. “Now!”

I snapped out of my hesitation.

“Hang up and call the police!” I said, becoming agitated.

“No, I need you!” she begged. “Come quick. Please!”

“Christy,” I urged, “Get out. Now!”

“I'm afraid!” she said, dropping her voice so low, I almost couldn't hear her. “If I open the door, he'll hear me.”

Frantically, I tried to think.

“Please Jay,” she interrupted. “Come now. Please, come now!”

“I'll be right over,” I stammered. “Hide somewhere. Now!”

“I will.”

The phone went dead. I was worried.

I threw on the nearest clothes, grabbed my wallet, my keys, and pulled on the treasured, vintage bombardier jacket I had discovered in a second-hand clothing store a few years earlier. I had to admit, I felt a little bad assed when I wore it.

I jumped in my car to make the ten minute drive to the duplex she rented. It was a small apartment in an older home that had been subdivided. I knew Christy lived there alone.

As I drove, zipping through yellow traffic signals, close to midnight, I wondered what could have happened. Could it be a burglar who thought the apartment was empty?

I thought some more. Who breaks into a house in a neighborhood full of poor, college students?

Someone who’s drunk. Or high on something. I nudged the accelerator forward.

As I sped through a series of “pink” traffic signals, my mind wrestled with the situation. Christy was sharp as a tack. She'd know enough to keep out of sight.

But Christy also had a mischievous sense of humor. And she wasn’t above playing a practical joke. The closer I got, the more I began to wonder, was this a prank?

I parked the car on the street, one door down, crept up to the front door and pushed it open without knocking. Moving as quietly as possible, I stepped into the kitchen, set my keys on the table, pulled off my coat, and looked toward the counter, hoping I’d find a big, kitchen knife without having to open any drawers that might squeak.

As I did, I spotted Christy in the far corner, sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up, her arms folded over them and her head down on her arms. She still was dressed in jeans and a sweater, but I noticed her feet were bare. Maybe getting out wasn't an option after all.

Suddenly, she looked up at me. Her shoulder-length, auburn hair fell away from her oval face, and her liquid brown eyes met mine. Eyes that a man could easily drown in. Until she smiled, that is. Because once those cute dimples emerged on either side of her pair of luscious lips, it was hard for a man to decide where to look first.

At the moment, though, no one was smiling. My eyes remained locked on hers.

“Where?” I hissed.

“Bedroom."

I grabbed the biggest knife I could find. I wasn't really sure what I'd do with it, but I hoped I’d look scary holding it.

I crept down the hall to her bedroom, praying the floor wouldn’t squeak. As I thought about my feet, I nearly collided with an impossibly large hanging plant dangling from a massive hook in the ceiling in front of a window. It hung so low only kids and dogs didn’t have to step around it.

The bedroom door was partially open. I peeked inside, saw nothing and heard nothing.

I felt Christy touch my elbow and nearly yelped in surprise.

“In here?” I mouthed.

She nodded yes.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open slowly. A moment later, I stepped in. I looked around and glanced under the bed but saw nothing. I went to the closet, which had a sliding door, half open. If anyone was in this room, that was the only place left to hide.

Holding the knife in one hand, I reached for the closed half of the door. I paused and slid it over as fast as I could while dropping to a crouch.

The closet wasn’t very large or deep. No one was there.

I turned to Christy, still with a worried look, but a questioning one as well.

“Could he be in another room?” I whispered.

“No,” she replied. “I was in the bathroom when I heard the noise in there. No one's come out.”

I heard a sharp noise behind me and spun around. Still nothing there. I heard it again by the window and looked outside.

I saw a loose shutter. When the wind picked up, it slapped the shutter against the house.

I breathed a sigh of relief, set the knife down on the dresser and pointed out the window. Christy glanced outside and turned back to me, looking a little sheepish but a lot relieved.

Christy threw herself into my arms, wrapping hers tightly around my neck, pulling me close.

“Thank you!” she gushed. “Thank you for coming to my rescue!”

She relaxed her grip but still pressed her body against mine. I suddenly was aware my jeans were feeling a little snugger than they were just moments ago.

Christy's lips brushed my ear and her warm breath pulsed on my neck. I felt my cock begin to lengthen.

I led her over to the bed, and we sat down side by side. A moment later, she put a hand on my chest and gently pushed me down on the bed until my head met the pillow. Christy lay down beside me, her head on my chest, her arm wrapped around my waist.

She swung a leg over my body. Her thigh nudged my cock and it twitched. She must have felt it, but she didn’t move her leg away.

I kicked off my shoes onto the floor, trying to hide the fact what I really was trying to do was casually free my manhood from the press of her thigh. It didn’t work.

We talked quietly for a few minutes while she continued to cling to me. I felt her pounding heart slowly return to normal.

I glanced at the clock. It was 12:45 a.m.

“I need to go,” I said at last.

“Please stay,” she begged, pulling me closer.

I considered it for a moment. Not a good idea. We worked together, after all.

“No, I need to get up early tomorrow,” I said, gently squirming out from under her and standing. “I'll just use your bathroom and head out.”

I left the bedroom and went into the bathroom to take care of business.

I padded back to the empty living room. I went to the kitchen to grab my car keys, remembering my shoes still were in her bedroom.

The keys weren't on the table where I left them. I looked around for my coat to check the pockets. In a moment, I realized my coat wasn’t where I remembered leaving it either.

I heard a voice behind me.

“Looking for something?”

I turned to see Christy wearing my battered but beloved coat, her hands thrust deep in the pockets, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.

Surprised, then annoyed, I started toward her to retrieve my coat. But she retreated toward the bedroom.

“Christy, I've got to go,” I insisted.

“You sure?” she teased.

“I'm sure.”

“How are you going to get home without a coat?” she asked. “More importantly, how are you going to get home without your keys?”

With that she turned and strode purposefully into her bedroom with me right behind her.

“Come on, Christy,” I demanded. “Hand over my keys.”

“Guess where they are,” she announced.

Now I was pissed off.

“This isn't funny, Christy. Give me my keys.”

“Guess where they are,” she grinned playfully. “If you get it right, they're yours.”

Automatically, I glanced around the room before catching myself. I shouldn’t have done that.

Her smile widened in response.

“Just one thing,” she continued. “Every time you guess wrong, you have to take something off.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“Your clothes,” she explained.

I’d already worked that much out on my own.

“Are you kidding?” I spluttered at last.

“Uh-uh,” she said, her brown eyes now flashing merrily at me.

I glared hard at her. But I also felt my resistance slipping just a little. She sure did look enticing with that cocky attitude of hers.

“Here's the deal,” she began, sauntering a little closer. “Guess where your keys are, and you're in charge.”

“In charge of what?” I snapped.

“Of whatever happens next,” she said in a naughty tone.

I connected the dots. My eyes widened. So did her smile.

“You can leave if you want,” she added, stepping within arm's reach. “Or you can stay and have anything you want.”

Christy took the final step forward and slowly slipped her arms around my neck, folding her body into mine, pressing our middles together. I wasn’t exactly sure when my erection had returned, but there was no mistaking it now. For either of us.

“Anything?” I asked, suddenly feeling as if January had given way to July in her room.

“Anything you want from me,” she whispered, her hot breath tickling my right ear.

With a tiny nudge of her pelvis, she moved backward a step and gave me her best come-hither look.

Her best was plenty good. I smiled for the first time.

And suddenly it hit me.

“And if I run out of clothes …” I began.

Once more, Christy slowly stepped forward and placed her hands on my chest, gently brushing her palms over my nipples as she raised her arms and wrapped them around my neck once more.

“Then you'll do whatever I say,” she said, flashing me another naughty smile.

I felt my cock jump.

So did she. Christy pressed forward again, trapping my growing erection between our bodies and holding it a moment. Finally, she backed away and raised an eyebrow.

“So,” she purred. “Want to play?”

I wasn't supposed to fool around with my reporters. But I wasn't exactly in the driver's seat. I was the one being taken for a ride.

“I guess I don't have a choice, do I?” I said, trying my best to sound non-committal.

“Only if you want to walk home without a coat,” she said simply.

I glanced through the window to see snow had started falling. I was a little irritated but aroused even more.

The deck was stacked against me and I was more in the mood to teach her a lesson than I was to submit to one. I did a quick bit of math; I was wearing a shirt, a pair of pants, boxer shorts, a pair of socks and a pair of shoes. I'd have seven guesses.

My eyes fell upon my shoes where they had fallen earlier next to the bed. No, I’d only have five guesses.

Christy followed my gaze and read my mind at the same time.

“Tell you what,” she offered. “The keys aren’t in the closet.”

My eyes swept the room again. A double bed was against the wall to the left of the door. A dresser took up most of the wall opposite the bed. There was a nightstand next to the bed under the room’s only window. A bookshelf occupied the corner to the left of the dresser, and a chair sat in the corner to the right of the dresser. The closet took up most of the wall opposite the window.

Staring at the dresser, two small drawers across the top with three large drawers beneath, I pondered the possibilities.

“How exact do I have to be?” I asked.

Christy followed my eyes to the dresser, piled with cosmetics and perfumes, a jewelry box on top. A pile of textbooks were stacked at one end. A couple of stuffed animals, propped against the dresser’s full-length mirror, were on the other end. Quite a mess.

For a moment, she looked a little sheepish about the clutter. Then she got back to business.

“You can't just say, ‘In the dresser,’” she said. “You have to guess a drawer.”

Well. That could exhaust my guesses right there.

“Then you'll have to tell me if I'm hot or cold,” I demanded.

She smirked, as if she had seen this coming.

“All right,” she agreed.

I stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, sizing things up. I'd better divide the room in half with the first guess.

“On top of the dresser,” I said, eyeing the mess.

Christy walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing one leg over the other in silence.

“Nope,” she said with a satisfied smile.

“Well,” I snapped. “Am I hot or cold?”

Christy leaned back on her hands, arching her back. The unzipped coat fell open, pushing her beautiful breasts out toward me. I never could decide whether she was a B-cup or a C-cup. Probably a B. Only her waist was so slim, it made her boobs seem big.

Her nipples were poking themselves against her sweater, and I admired the view. Something else to distract my attention.

Christy rocked her upper leg. I lifted my eyes back to her face.

“You're hot,” she said and smiled a bemused smile.

My eyes lit up.

“You're hot,” she said again. “Your guess is cold.”

I groaned. She chuckled and pumped her leg a couple more times before standing up.

“Take it off,” she demanded in a voice suddenly all business.

I started to bend down for my socks and stopped. I stood up and stared into her eyes. Slowly, I reached for the top button of my shirt and began unfastening the buttons.

Christy's eyes grew wide. Finally I had taken her by surprise, I thought.

But as I unbuttoned, I silently cursed myself for not wearing an undershirt, which I normally do in winter. It would have been fun to see the look on her face as I revealed an item of clothing she didn’t know was there.

It also would have given me another guess.

I pulled it off and handed it to her. Christy's eyes went to my chest. She even licked her lips, which made me smile inside. No one ever would confuse me for a body builder. But my lean build, I carried no more than one hundred sixty to one hundred sixty five pounds on a six foot tall frame, wasn't bad in a bathing suit.

Christy began to walk out of the room with my shirt.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just making sure you don't get down to your shorts and decide to quit the game,” she said. “Do that and you'll be leaving without car keys, coat, or most of your clothes.”

Damn, I thought. Looks like a little planning went into this. I supposed I should be flattered.

As Christy left, I considered my next guess. A moment later, she sauntered back into the room. Still barefoot, still wearing my unzipped coat.

Only, now she wasn't wearing pants.

Christy slowly walked around me and over to the bed once more. As she turned, I got a glimpse of her lacy, white panties, cut high on her thighs, at the top of a pair of long, graceful legs. Dancer's legs, I thought. Shapely, toned. Very sexy.

Once more, the room was feeling a bit warmer.

Christy sat down on the bed, crossed her legs and began rocking her upper leg, a little harder this time, while looking up at me with innocent eyes and a big smile on her face. A smile I didn't notice at first. My eyes were fixed on her legs. Only when she stopped rocking her leg did I look up.

“Next guess.” she said with an amused look.

I tore my gaze from her gams and frowned. Time for the other half of the room, I thought.

“Under the bed,” I said.

Christy gave me an appraising look.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get to the bed,” she grinned. “Not long at all.”

“Well?” I demanded.

Christy stood and crossed the room, coming to a stop in front of the dresser, facing me. In the mirror behind her, I caught another look at panties hugging her delectable derriere.

“Wrong again,” she said. “And you're definitely cold now.”

I frowned. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why she said, “definitely cold now,” instead of just “cold.” But I had more pressing matters.

“Hand something over,” she said with a smile bordering on a leer.

I faced Christy and put my hands on my belt. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Then I reached down and swiftly pulled off my left sock. Christy scowled back at me.

“Two down, three to go,” she said, taking the sock and marching out of the room. Clearly, she had done the math, too.

Now I wasn't sure where to go next. “Cold” on the left side of the room and “cold” on the right. How could that be?

Christy strode back into the room, a little quicker this time, walking a few steps past me before turning and facing me squarely.

The still unzipped coat gaped open. But the sweater she had been wearing earlier was gone. Along with a frontal view of pretty panties, I now was looking at the inner swell of her bra peeking out through the open coat, covering her shapely chest.

I sucked in a breath.

The appearance of such a lovely, matching, bra-and-panty settled my original question. This had been a set-up all along. Yet I was hungry to see more.

By now, I was certain the strutting and the slow striptease were meant to distract me as well. I had to admit it was working.

I focused my attention on the book shelves, between the bed and the nightstand on the left side of the room and the dresser on the right.

I wondered if she'd make me pick a specific shelf. I decided to guess the entire three-shelf unit and see what the judge's ruling would be.

“The bookshelves,” I said.

A moment before I spoke, she had pasted on a poker face. The moment after, she still hadn't flinched. She walked toward my right side and slipped her right hand around my upper right arm and squeezed my bicep as she rose up on her toes to whisper in my ear.

“Uh-uh,” she said, releasing my arm and walking past me toward the door.

“And in case you were wondering,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You're still hot. But you're also cold.”

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath.

She fastened a level gaze on me. I took the hint, reached down and removed the other sock, and handed it to her. She took it and walked out.

“Two more guesses. You'd better make them count,” she called over her shoulder.

No kidding. I was running out of time. Time to think outside the box. Or maybe inside the box.

I noticed a small wastepaper basket on the right side of the dresser.

Christy walked back into the room, stopping just inside the door. Leaning back against the door jamb, she shifted her weight to one foot, crossed the other leg in front and put her hand on her hip, striking a sultry, model’s pose. She lowered her eyes and waited.

I lowered my eyes as well. Christy still was wearing my coat. But she wasn’t wearing a bra any more.

Christy locked her eyes on mine and began a slow, sensuous stroll around me. My eyes, on the other hand fell to the swell of her breasts, pushing out at the front of my coat, jiggling slightly as she sauntered in a circle around me before stopping at the bedroom door.

“Well?” she asked.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. But I found my voice.

“The trash can?” I said, suddenly sounding a little hoarse.

Christy was standing about as far away from the trash can as you could stand in her bedroom. This time she didn't move a muscle. But after a moment, she slowly shook her head.

“It isn't there,” she said with a smile. “And you’re so cold, you're freezing.”

“Or you're about to be freezing,” she added with a giggle.

I sighed as I looked into her eyes. I realized my mouth was dry as cotton. My palms, on the other hand, were clammy.

Christy dropped her eyes to my jeans, lingering over every inch of my growing erection straining against the front.

She cleared her throat.

My hands went to my belt. Slowly I unfastened the top button and slid the zipper down. Christy's grin turned a notch naughtier.

I slipped my jeans over my hips, taking care not to tug at my boxer briefs. I lowered them to the floor and started to bend over.

“Don't,” she interrupted me. “Just step away. I'll take them.”

I kicked them off and stepped to the right. Christy paused a moment, feasting her eyes on the tent that my shorts had become. She bent over to retrieve my pants. Her glance did little to stop my semi-erection from its upward path.

As she slowly rose, I eyed the swells of her breasts, my open coat just barely covering nipples that I now imagined to be as hard as my cock.

With a smile, she turned and left the room.

I faced away from the door, scowling at no one, trying to figure out what I was missing.

A moment later, Christy returned silently, walking right up behind me. She slipped her left arm around my waist, her fingers brushing across my cock straining against my boxers. She must have thrown open the coat because I felt her breasts pressing hard against my back. Thickened nipples tickled my skin as she wiggled ever so slightly. I felt goose bumps up and down my arms.

Her lips were close to my right ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her other hand reaching around me. Her left arm pulled me tighter as she waved her right hand a few inches in front of my face.

Dangling from her fingers was the little wisp of white lace I had seen hugging her shapely hips only a minute before.

I reached back with my left hand and slid it across her bare hip. I stretched my arm further and spread my fingers wide across her peachy bottom. I gave her completely naked cheek a firm squeeze.

Christy moaned softly as I gripped her gorgeous ass. She slipped her left hand under the waistband of my shorts and felt lower. She wrapped her hand around my shaft and gave it a couple of up-and-down tugs.

I was throbbing hard now.

“One more guess,” she whimpered. “Hurry!”

I moaned as I released my hold on her bottom so I could get a better grip.

My forearm brushed against the coat. I felt something in the pocket.

That was strange. It’s my coat. I hadn’t put anything in the pocket. I nudged the coat again on purpose. I heard a tiny jingle.

The light bulb went on at last. I burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny,” she asked, caught off guard.

“I know where they are,” I announced.

Christy drew a sudden breath. Her hold on my cock tightened in surprise.

“My car keys,” I announced triumphantly, “Are in my coat pocket.”