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The waiter glanced at Michael before he spoke. "Good evening, Miss Carrie. My name is Davis. Let me know if I can be of assistance."

"Okay, Davis. If I can ever help you with something, I hope you'll let me know. It never hurts to have a friend in a big place like this."

Davis nodded and quickly filled Michael's plate and left.

Carrie cut the chicken breast and took a bite. "Ooh, Michael! This is just yummy." Hurriedly she tried to green beans and carrots. "I've died and gone to gardener's Heaven. I'd eat veggies all the time if they tasted like this. If only I didn't hate cooking..."

Michael coughed and laughed. Taking a drink of wine, he smiled. "How do you get by if you don't cook?"

Carrie laughed. In between bites of food, she told him, "I've perfected the Lazy Woman's Cook Book. I have several tried and true recipes."

"Don't tell me you do the hot water and ketchup packets for soup?"

"That's for when you don't have any money, and don't knock until you've been forced to do it a few times. No, I'm talking about my classic egg salad sandwich, which you can serve as an even elegant Nouvelle Cuisine Eggs on Toast Points."

"My curiosity abounds. You shall have to make it for me. I'm having a little trouble visualizing it."

Carrie stopped and pointed her fork at him, shaking it a little as she made her point. "I think you're just fooling and want to trick me into cooking so you can me wrong, because once you've gone Lazy Woman it's hard to go back."

His stomach fell hard as Carrie laughed. In spite of the hairdo, which he had been damned sure would be a turn off, he was turned on. In fact, from the moment he saw her briefly through the window at Betty Lou's, he'd been at half-salute for most of the day. He'd spent most of the remainder of the day behind his desk or wearing a jacket.

Now he was just plain aroused seated opposite her.

When she ate, unconsciously her tongue would take a delicious lick across her lower lip. From the moment he first saw her do that, he was ready to offer his in exchange.

Then he noticed that when he said something really funny, he could get her to laugh enough to set her breasts bouncing and jiggling freely under the thin material of her silky dress. She had removed the sweater after a glass of wine, feeling a little warm.

After dinner, he suggested they retire to the library.

"Have a seat, if you like. I'll pour use each a small brandy," he added, walking to the built in bar in the corner of darkly paneled room. As he poured the expensive, thirty year old liquor in the deep bellied crystal glasses, he wondered if he was truly being a gentleman. All evening he had filled her glass. It had been easy to see she wasn't used to hard drinking, or even to a few glasses of wine with dinner.

Still, he considered as he picked up both glasses, holding one in each hand to begin the warming process, she was grown and could say stop at any time. Turning he started toward the leather sofa he had indicated for her to sit on. He stopped abruptly when he saw the sofa was empty.

Had she left?

"Over here, Michael! This seems much nicer, and I've always wanted to do this."

Michael turned, almost had trepidation of what he might see.

Carrie was lying on the fake fur on the floor in front of his fireplace. It had been a present from his sister, so he'd been unable to pitch it. Now, seeing her stretched out with her arms cradling the back of her head, he doubted he'd ever get rid of it. he came to stand at the side of the rug, looking down at her.

She sighed loudly, stretching and arching her back. Her breasts were thrust up against the thin fabric. It seemed a very seductive movement, but Michael was sure she did in unconsciously and without artifice.

Slowly he came down on one knee, holding out one of the goblets to her.

Sighing loudly, Carrie sat back up. "Thank you. I've never had brandy before so I'm afraid I'll have no idea as to whatever it is a person is supposed to know about brandy. I don't know—is it taste, flavor, color? Oh, I remember once on a show I saw this man tasting something and he said it had a smoky quality, perhaps there was mention of an earthiness."

Michael chuckled as he sat down cross legged on the rug. "I'm glad you like the rug. It's been an eyesore. It doesn't match the décor."

Carrie sipped the liquor. "Hmm, interesting." She coughed a few times and then took another. "Well, I like it. It's whimsical. I learned that in a decorating class I took." She took another sip, and then set her glass down on the raised stone surrounding the fire place. Without a word, she lay back down. "This is very nice."

Michael copied her actions, but lay on his side so he could see her. "What are you thinking?" he asked a second later.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess this is weird and wonderful."

"That has to be explained," Michael insisted, moving closer and bringing his hand up to flick the collar at her neck.

"I just meant that I've gone from zero to sixty all day long and then I get here and it's like whoosh! I run smack into a wall and stop cold."

"How are you stopping? I mean other than the nap you had."

"The nap, yeah, but really the changes stopped when I got into the car."

"What do you want to happen? You seemed to be disappointed."

Startled at his perception, Carrie pulled back, sobering up a little. Slowly one hand crept up to touch the short hair that formed the cap on her head. Tears started to her eyes and she blinked quickly to dissipate them. "I'm sorry. I think it's just the result of a really long day and so many changes...I swore I wasn't going to cry."

Tears spurted forth as if saying the words broke down the dam holding them at bay. Sniffing loudly she rubbed her fingers across her cheeks.

Michael shifted and pulled her into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he patted her back gently. "Shh, shh. It's okay Carrie."

She snuggled into his embrace, letting him take her weight, she allowed her body to press downward. As she felt her breasts nestled against the warm strength of his chest, she groaned a little, wiggling and deepening the feeling.

Michael caught his fingers in the short hair at the back of her head. He tugged until she lifted her head and gazed up at him.

Staring into the sexy look on her face had him groaning. The way she was rubbing her breasts against him was too hot to be ignored. His gaze slid down to her lips.

As if she knew...her tongue slipped out and slowly slid across her lower lip, licking it very slowly.

He groaned loudly as his cock responded instantly. He rolled them on the rug, coming down on top of her. He pressed his mouth to hers. His kiss was hot and fevered. Any plan to go slow and woo her with violets and gentle poems fell by wayside. Nothing in the way she kissed him back translated into delicate flowers or tender poetry.

As he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth, tongue and lips thoroughly before he slid to the side of her neck, kissing and nipping and catching her earlobe with her teeth.

Carrie was shocked when she felt his mouth touch the skin of her breast just a tiny distance from her nipple.

"Oh!" she gasped, unaware of how things had progressed so far.

When did he unbutton her dress?

She pulled her hand away from the back of his head. The thick silky strands of his rich, dark hair slipped through her fingers, feeling wonderfully slick and smooth against her skin. Aroused and losing control, Carrie wasn't sure where to turn next...

Turn?

"What did you say?" he asked her softly.

"I think I should go to bed," she whispered, licking her lips which suddenly felt dry.

"Bed?"

Carrie heard the surprise in his voice. She knew she'd been talking a whole different outcome seconds earlier. "I'm sorry. I never should have let things get this far."

Slowly he moved away from her without meeting her gaze.

She shivered as her skin felt chilled when exposed to the night air. Looking down, she was shocked to discover exactly how much of her body he had revealed without her being more aware of his progress. Swiftly her fingers moved to replace everything to its proper position or closing. Sitting upright she lifted her hands to right her hair. Stopping abruptly, she recalled there wasn't enough hair to get mussed in the first place. Shrugging, she got to her feet.

"If you'll tell me how to get back to my room, I won't bother you anymore."

Michael stood, moving more slowly. As he took a step, Carrie thought he was moving with a limp. But quickly his gait appeared smooth once more. "I'll show you the way. I'm heading that way anyway."

Silently Carrie walked beside him. She fought the butterflies in her stomach and the fact that her legs wanted to crumple beneath her. Each step she took the words echoed over and over in her head—

What were you thinking?

You should not have started anything.

You could have stopped him...

Would have, could have and should have.

Her mother's favorite phrase about decisions.

Standing in front of her bedroom door, she nodded her head.

Tomorrow she would face the new day and her new life's challenges. Tonight she was going to sleep.

Turning to face Michael she smiled a little. "Thank you. Who knows where I would have ended up on my own?" Reaching for the door knob, she shrugged her shoulders. Turning it and pushing it open, she took the first step inside.

Michael moved quickly. He pressed forward, forcing her back against the door.

The door backed up until it reached the wall with a thump.

Carrie gasped and the air rushed from her chest in a puff.

Without delay, Michael took advantage of her opened mouth. He kissed her full on, his tongue sweeping her inner darkness.

Her knees buckled and she leaned against him. Her arms crept up to encircle his neck.

When she sighed, he pulled back.

Blinking quickly, she looked up at him, confused.

Grinning, he lifted one hand to cup her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He leaned down close, so their eyes were directly opposite one another. His eyes seemed to be lit from within by laughter.

"Now if you ended up in my room by mistake, I wouldn't have complained." He released all contact with her, stepping back and away on all points of contact.

Carrie shivered and leaned heavily against the door.

Say something!

Anything!

Nothing came out.

"Good night, Miss Carrie. Dinner was a real delight for a change."

With a slight inclining bow, Michael left her alone in the hall walking a few short feet down the hall and entered another room.

Carrie watched, unable to turn and walk into her room. She felt glued in placed until he closed his own door a few seconds later.

Inside the room, she moved over to the bed before turning on any lights. She avoided looking at any of the mirrors. Perhaps it was silly, but she just wasn't in the mood to look at her reflection.

Quickly she pulled her clothes off until she was naked. Slipping between the sheets, she turned the light out before she rested her head on the pillow. In the darkness, she breathed in deeply, letting the emotions of the day flow out.

Tears began to flow as she reached up to feel her short hair. Surely tomorrow was going to be better...

Soon she fell asleep and didn't budge until the sun was high in the sky the following morning.

Carrie Carpenter

Betty Lou-owner, husband Albert- barbershop

Lillian-aunt Floria

Myra Anne-clothes shop

Michael Winston

Mr. Winston-tall, dark haired man with aviator style sunglasses. She couldn't tell a thing about what he looked like except that he was good looking if you went by bone structure, great hair—thick and just long enough to entice a woman's fingers—were enough to go by. He was lightly tanned

Waiter- Davis