I feel him before I see him. Prickle on the neck, a chill. In what feels like slow motion, we turn slightly on the heavy, weathered pinkish-gray granite courthouse steps as we breeze past one another, moving in opposite directions.

I step in cement. I can’t move. I feel the universe shift. Then stop. No wind. No movement. Even the light seems suspended. I hear myself out loud inside my own head. Jesus, what was that?

I don't really have time to contemplate it; I have court. I flew to Texas this morning and am supposed to fly out tomorrow.

I start to turn around toward him anyway when someone abruptly grabs my hand, shaking it with vigor.

“Hello, you must be El. I’m your appointed attorney,” she announces.

“Yes, hel… Wait, how did you…?”

“Your mugshot,” she says, quickly shuffling through the white papers in a manila envelope. She pulls out some official-looking report with a small, square, black-and-white mugshot of me in the corner.

“Fucking hell.” I roll my eyes and hurry after her to keep up. She barks out orders and makes suggestions about my outfit, my hair, my makeup, what I should say, all while striding across the marble floor toward the heavy wooden double doors at the end of the hallway.

I suddenly feel sick. And overwhelmed. I just had a whole potentially fateful moment on the staircase, and now I’m being accosted in the court of public opinion over one tiny little indiscretion.

God, can’t anybody take a joke anymore?!

I was visiting a friend in Texas a month ago, and she took me to a rodeo. Somewhere along the way, I hear that they tie up the bulls’ balls to make them buck. Apparently, that is NOT TRUE, but unfortunately, I didn’t learn this until after a regrettable amount of tequila.

So there I am, increasingly concerned for the poor bull’s most personal belongings, when tequila and animal welfare combine into one truly terrible idea.

I decide I’m going to SAVE HIS BALLS!

Eighty hours of community service, which, rather pointedly, I am NOT permitted to perform at an animal rescue.

“How am I supposed to do 80 hours of community service? I live 1200 miles away,” I whine to my attorney afterward.

“It’s the best I could do. It was that or the fine and ten days in jail. And no offense--” She looks me up and down. “--but you wouldn't survive a single day in a Texas jail.

“Gee thanks.”

She gathers up her files. “El, haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘Don’t Mess with Texas’? Next time, don’t fuck around at a Texas rodeo. Nice meeting you.”

And just like that, she’s gone.

I stand there defiantly for a moment, but eventually my shoulders slump. I turn and shuffle out of the courthouse, defeated.

Outside, the Texas heat hits me like an open oven. The cicadas scream from the trees like they have a personal grievance with me.

There’s a little hot dog cart parked near the courthouse, and the smell of grilled onions and mustard catches my attention. I buy a hot dog and a cold soda and stand there for a moment, taking in the little town. Then, through the gap between two buildings, I spot a cemetery.

I’ve always liked graveyards. They calm me. Nobody wants anything from you in a graveyard. So I wander toward it with my lunch. I find a wooden bench beneath a sprawling live oak.

I close my eyes, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to stay in Texas for eighty hours of community service. I’m not staying with my friend. Apparently, getting arrested before the final event is poor guest etiquette.

When I open them, I spot the guy from the courthouse wandering between the graves.

A barn swallow suddenly dives past my face. I jump, launching my hot dog into the dirt.

“GODDAMNIT!”

The word echoes across the cemetery.

He stops, looks over, then starts walking toward me. I sit back down, unable to look away.

When he reaches me, he bends down, picks up my dirt-covered hot dog, and drops it in the trash.

“You know, littering is illegal in Texas. Wouldn’t want to end up back in court.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

“May I sit?”

“Is refusing someone a bench illegal in Texas, too?”

He laughs. “If not, it should be,” and sits beside me.

“William.”

“El.”

“Nice to meet you, El.” His grin widens. “So, what’s the damage? Should I start arranging conjugal visits?”

I blink. “Wow. Introductions to conjugal visits in under thirty seconds. Y’all don’t play around. Does that usually work?”

“I don’t know. Never picked up a felon before.”

“I’m not a felon.”

“Even better. I’m doing great.”

I laugh. “Eighty hours of community service, actually. And I’m supposed to leave tomorrow.”

He pauses. “I know you don’t know me, but I have an apartment for friends and family. It’s empty. You’re welcome to stay while you sort this out.”

“Really?”

“Really. We take our civic duty very seriously here.” He grins.

“I’m not sure I could afford much.”

“I wasn’t asking for rent.”

“Well, that makes this considerably more suspicious.”

He smiles, and somehow I’m completely at ease. Accepting an apartment from a stranger I met in a graveyard probably proves I’ve learned nothing from my recent legal troubles, but I decide this is happening.

We talk beneath the oak until he checks his watch. “Where are you staying? Let’s get your things.”

Soon, I’m following him through a guest apartment attached to his sprawling ranch house. William never mentions money. He doesn’t have to.

“I’d like you to come over for dinner,” he says at the door. “Take your time. Get settled. I don’t eat particularly early. Seven too late for you?”

“No. That’s incredibly nice of you. Thank you. For all of this.”

“Seven, then.”

I shower and slip into a light linen sundress because, apparently, Texas remains roughly the temperature of the sun even after dark. At seven, I walk across the front lawn to the main house and knock.

“Come in,” he hollers from somewhere inside.

The house is beautiful without trying. Old wood floors, worn leather, books, and good art. Definitely a bachelor’s house, though. One lonely plant appears to have been dead since the Bush administration.

Something smells incredible. Charred beef, roasted peppers, garlic, smoke, and something warm and spicy I can’t quite place.

I follow it into the kitchen.

He’s standing at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, a little radio playing soft music beside him. He's older and handsome. He glances over his shoulder when I walk in and motions toward an old leather couch against the kitchen wall.

“Sit.”

Yes. There is a couch in his kitchen. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it does. I sit and watch him cook until he turns, spears something from the pan with a fork, and walks toward me.

“Tell me what you think.”

He stops in front of me and bends down, holding the fork to my mouth.

Then he pauses. His eyes move over me, and his expression changes just slightly. “You look beautiful tonight, El.”

My heart gives an inconvenient little kick.

I take the bite. It’s delicious, smoky, and tender with just enough heat, but William is still bent in front of me, watching me so closely that I barely taste it.

“There’s something…” he murmurs.

His thumb comes up and brushes slowly across the corner of my mouth. It’s the smallest touch, barely anything. And I swear I feel it absolutely everywhere. I stare up at him, completely at a loss for words. I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling, only that I’ve never felt anything like it.

He straightens, looking down at me.

“I don’t know what this is either,” he says quietly. “But I know you’re feeling it too. I’ve felt it since the moment I saw you on those courthouse steps.”

He sets the pan down, reaches for my hand, and pulls me gently to my feet. Suddenly, we’re standing impossibly close. He brushes the hair away from my face, his fingers lingering along my jaw while his other hand settles softly at my hip.

“May I kiss you, El?”

I nod, because at this point, kissing him doesn’t feel optional. I need to know if this thing between us is real. I’ve never been so completely consumed by someone so quickly.

He leans down, neither of us taking our eyes off the other. His fingers wrap around the side of my neck and twirl into my hair. And then his lips touch mine. Something inside me lets go.

His hands move over me as the kiss deepens, every touch deliberate. He slips the straps from my shoulders, his mouth trailing from my cheek to my neck. I close my eyes and breathe him in, bright and crisp, oranges and green leaves.

“God, what is that?”

He smiles. “Hermès Eau d’Orange. Little French thing.”

“It’s intoxicating.”

Whatever restraint I think I have disappears. Heat rushes through me, and I grip his shirt, pulling him closer.

“William…”

The expression in his eyes makes my entire body ache. It makes me wonder how long it’s been for him.

He smiles and runs his thumb over my lips. “If you’re wondering how long it’s been since I’ve had sex.” He pauses and gives me a sweet grin. “Last night. My neighbor. She’s my special slut.” He lets out a little laugh.

I narrow my eyes. That was unexpected.

“No, no,” he continues. “I mean it in the best way. She laughs when I call her that. She’s amazing, and she knows it. Gorgeous little sex machine.”

“Damn, okay.” I laugh, even though some small part of me is disappointed. “And here I was thinking I might be special. So what does that make me, the flavor of the day?”

I’m teasing, but I’m genuinely curious to hear what a man clearly incapable of filtering himself will say next.

His expression changes; he sits down on the couch and cocks his head.

“She’s special to me. I won’t deny that to make you feel better.”

He stops, leans back slightly, scanning my face. I want to speak. It’s my nature not to know when to shut the fuck up, but for some reason, I wait. I don’t speak, holding my breath.

“El, you are special. There’s a difference between someone who makes you feel good and someone who makes you feel. You make me feel everything. It’s incredibly inconvenient.”

I stare at him for half a second before my smile wins.

“Inconvenient.” I shake my head. “Why does that somehow sound ridiculously romantic coming from you?”

“El, once upon a time, I might’ve swept you up and carried you to bed. These days, my body has opinions.” He sighs dramatically. “But if you wanted macho, you bet on the wrong horse.”

He gives me a rueful smile, sits, and pulls me down beside him.

“Fortunately, I’ve developed other talents.”

I smile as his hand moves slowly up my thigh, disappearing beneath my dress. I slip my arms free, exposing my breasts. His palms sweep over them, his fingers lingering, caressing, and gently tugging at my hardened nipples. His eyes lift to mine for the briefest second before he lowers his head and takes my breasts into his mouth.

My head falls back heavily as the sensations flood my body. He isn’t careless; he’s methodical in every movement, and my body responds with heat and a slow-building ache.

I stand abruptly and drop my dress to the floor, and wriggle out of my panties. I can't stand it any longer. I need more. I step toward him, he's looking up at me, his hands settle on my hips, and he tugs me closer. His mouth open, warm between my legs, makes me moan loudly.

He runs his thumb between my flooded folds and higher circling gently while his tongue explores. The pressure builds with every pass of his tongue, and the desire, no, the absolute need to have him inside me is all-consuming.

His mouth still between my legs, he undoes his belt and slides it out, and unbuttons his pants. It springs out, hard, upright, and my thighs tremble.

He turns me abruptly in the opposite direction, spreads me, and his mouth is kissing me everywhere, exploring new territory, driving me absolutely wild.

I’m barely aware of anything beyond him when a loud voice rings through the house.

“Hello! Anybody home?”

Oh, fuck.

I scramble to cover myself, accomplishing absolutely nothing.

A beautiful middle-aged woman strolls into the kitchen wearing nothing but an oversized white men’s button-down and a white lace thong. Her hand flies to her mouth, but it does nothing to hide the delighted smile spreading across her face.

“William! You didn’t tell me we were having company for dinner.”

My head snaps toward him.

Excuse me? I shoot him a glare that can only mean one thing. What is this motherfucker, a married man?

William rests his head against my back for a fraction of a second.

“El, this is my neighbor, Eve.”

Ahhh, yes. His special slut. I raise my eyebrows and give her an awkward smile that I’m sure conveys the perfect combination of nice to meet you, I’m mortified, and okay, you can leave now.

William’s hands settle on my hips and turn me back toward him. I stare down at him blankly.

The sharp snap of Eve biting into an apple pulls my attention away. She’s taken it from the fruit bowl and is watching me as she chews, her eyes traveling over me with the unmistakable focus of a predator sizing up prey.

“El,” William whispers, looking up at me. “Are you having fun with me?”

There’s a sweetness to his grin, but something devilish underneath it, too. Exactly the kind of expression that gets girls like me into precarious situations.

“I was.”

He chuckles.

“Well, while I’m perfectly capable of keeping you entertained on my own, and fully intend to…” His eyes flick briefly toward Eve before returning to mine. “I can assure you, she has talents worth discovering.”

He gives a small shrug, far too casual about the whole thing.

He says to me, keeping his eyes on Eve, a wide grin on his lips, “Your call. But a warning, El, she can ruin you.”

His words keep me suspended somewhere between nerves and anticipation.

I look back at Eve as she licks her lips and winks, sending a shiver through me that makes my whole body quiver. William’s hands tighten on my hips, steadying me.

“You can ruin me, huh?” I murmur before I can stop myself. “If that’s the case, then do it slowly.”

Eve’s smile widens. Before I can finish the thought, she drops to her knees in front of me. Her hands push my thighs apart, and she glances up at me and slides her tongue straight in and then slowly up to my clit while William’s tongue circles me from behind.

“Jesus!” is all I manage as the two of them turn my impulsive little decision into a journey I most definitely did not pack or prepare for.

Tongues give way to fingers, and fingers eventually give way to William easing me slowly backward onto him, my back pressed to his chest, his mouth against my neck. Eve’s hands help guide him in, her thumb circling high between my folds as William settles into a steady rhythm.

Eve turns her attention to him, her tongue tracing over his balls and even lower before slowly working its way back again, moving in tandem with his steady rhythm. I watch, completely transfixed, as a low groan escapes from deep in his chest.

His hands find my breasts, and the kisses along my neck grow hungrier, less controlled with every one of Eve’s movements. I watch her dip even lower, spreading him wide with her hands and rimming him, pushing her tongue in and out again and again, with slow, deliberate confidence, teasing out every reaction.

Eventually, using her finger, she does something that makes his whole body tense. He lets out a deep breath and a drawn-out, “Fuuuck,” and his rhythm immediately intensifies.

So does the movement of his hand against me, more focused now, more insistent, until I can feel how close he is to losing whatever control he had left.

William is everywhere I can feel, but Eve is everywhere I see. I feel his reactions before I hear them: the sudden tension in his body, the sharp breath against my skin, the way his composure slips whenever she changes what she’s doing.

But I’m hardly watching him.

I’m watching her.

She knows exactly what she’s doing to us.

Within seconds, my entire body reacts. My breath catches, my legs tremble, and I cling to the sensation as it rolls through me again and again.

William moves with ease and lifts me and guides me on my back before I could adjust myself; Eve crawls on top, her face between my thighs, her mouth buries in my folds, my hips instinctively grind into her. I'm still flooded with my own desire, and I am imagining it all over her face as she laps it up with her tongue.

I can feel the heat from her pink slit hovering above my face. My hands circle her thighs as she sinks lower, but I'm frozen. I'm not sure exactly what to do.

William bends down next to me; his fingers plunge into Eve's core, she opens to him, and there is a pool of moisture in seconds. “Open your mouth, baby,” he whispers to me. He takes his wet fingers and pushes them onto my tongue. “Good girl.”

He moves onto the couch behind her, straddling me, and slides his erection up and down at her entrance as he pushes her hips and soft folds down onto my mouth. She lets out a moan as my tongue starts to roll at the same moment he enters her.

William slides in and out of her, and periodically he pulls out and pushes himself into my mouth. "Taste her, baby,” he says each time.

After a short time, William guides me onto all fours as Eve climbs off of me. My face rests against the couch, my back arched high. Eve’s palms hold me open for him as her tongue rims me, taking him into her mouth between his thrusts, just as I had done with her moments before.

Eve moves up beside me and grabs a handful of my hair, lifting my head until my ear is against her lips. “You should see the way he’s fucking looking at you, like he could eat you alive, you lucky bitch.” Then she kisses me deeply.

“Mmmm, fuck, baby. Can I come inside you?” William murmurs.

Before I can answer, he releases deep inside me. I feel the sudden rush of warmth as his body trembles violently, then slowly relaxes against mine.

He collapses beside me, and I roll onto my back, still trying to catch my breath. “Damn, El, that was amazing.”

Eve immediately moves back between my thighs. “It’s my turn, you selfish little slut. Legs up,” she chirps, sliding her hands beneath my thighs and resting my legs on her shoulders.

She presses down on my abdomen and slides two fingers inside me. I watch her mouth open as she takes in his release while she and William both work her clit. She finishes by crying out loudly as she laps up the rest of his seed with her tongue from my swollen folds.

She drops onto her back beside me, breathing hard. I lie there tangled in limbs and swimming in sweat, sex, and the hazy aftermath of it all. Eventually, William breaks the silence with a laugh. “I’m fucking starving,” he announces.

“I’m not staying. I just ate,” Eve says with a devilish smile. “How long will you be here with us, El?”

I shrug. “Apparently, I owe the great state of Texas eighty hours.”

Eve looks me up and down slowly.

“Community service?”

“Yes.”

“Well, El,” Eve says, gathering her things, “you may be the first person I’ve met who makes court-ordered service look fun. I bet those 80 hours fly by.” She winks at me as she breezes out the door.

Turns out, messing with Texas might be the best bad decision I’ve ever made.