You there, Butch?

About two, she stashed her Glock in her purse, dressed comfortably, and headed to the East Morrow mall. She knew the store she wanted — Berksons, a small specialty shop whose beautiful dresses she had often coveted when she'd passed by.

In front of the store, she hesitated. The dresses she could see were beautiful ... and had to be expensive. Money wasn't a problem. She had more than $200,000 invested in stocks and mutual funds, a very comfortable savings account, and a checking account that met her needs very nicely. Being single all those years had some advantages. She could afford a nice dress. But which one?

She had been inside only about two minutes when the help she hoped for approached. She explained what she needed, not being sure exactly what that was. But a very perceptive and knowledgeable lady guided her along, picked a few dresses to try on, made suggestions, and finally said, "Yes, that's perfect. You look fantastic."

Eileen looked at herself in the mirror, the sales lady beside her, a proud smile on her face, almost like Eileen was a daughter she had just outfitted for the prom. She'd never worn anything like this one before. Could she trust the "you look fantastic" she'd gotten? She could see herself. The dress was snug — it certainly highlighted her figure, something she hadn't thought about for a long time. A single strap over her left shoulder, the other side bare. Not too short, just above her knees.

"Does this have a name of some kind?" she asked, a very insecure look on her face.

"I can tell you about it if you'd like. It's a dark rose cocktail dress with a single rosette strap with a shirred bodice. An empire waist with these tiered chiffon layers on the flared skirt. Is that what you need?"

"Not sure I'll remember that but thank you." She laughed. "Sounds impressive."

"It's a beautiful dress and," she paused, scanning Eileen from head to foot, "it looks perfect on you."

The sales lady circled Eileen.

"May I make another suggestion?"

"I can use all the help I can get."

"If you gather your hair and bring it around to the side without the strap, I think it might be very striking." Another big smile.

"Striking" was never a word that Eileen had applied to herself. To hear it now gave her goosebumps.

"I'll try that," she replied.

Her next surprise came with the price. She'd thought it might be two or three hundred dollars. She was delighted to find it was ninety-four dollars. She paid and headed home, wondering if she could look "fantastic." It was an idea very foreign to her psyche. She was certain the sales lady had only been flattering her to close the sale. Another part of her was telling her the lady had no reason to do that. Freaking Barry had her losing her mind. How was he doing that? He was a guy she'd met twice. Twice. She was trembling thinking about her dinner date. She hated it. She wanted it. She was a mess, the kind of mess she hadn't been for years.

She did have to hurry, though. It was three o'clock already and she had to stop and get some things for her hair, then shower and take care of that hair. She wasn't sure what to do about makeup — she knew less was usually better. She stopped at the drug store and picked up some shampoo and a rinse for the "dirty blonde" hair she'd lived with for years. She'd decided that "dirty" wasn't an appropriate color for a more formal dinner. She didn't want to overdo it. Maybe she should have started earlier. Guh.

In her apartment she laid out everything she'd need, then showered and used the rinse on her hair, pleasantly surprised at how well it turned out. She wondered if she could "dirty" it again before she went to work the next day.

She took the time to check the internet about ways to "gather" her hair, then brushed, combed, and worked hard to follow the directions she'd read. Satisfied, she began work on her make-up. A little here, some touches

there, and she was satisfied. She had no idea what Barry liked, but she found herself hoping to please him.

Undergarments in place, hose covering her legs, she slipped on the new dress. She had a pair of high heels ... luckily they still fit. Chris had liked for her to wear those, with her jeans or shorts. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was amazed at how far she'd come from that. She pulled her hair around so it draped over her right shoulder.

She took a deep breath. "Oh ... my ... gosh," she said aloud. She went to her purse, got her cell phone. Back in front of the mirror, she took three pictures. She could show these to Chris or Nick and they'd probably wonder who it was. Enough of that, though. She was ready.

As she was putting the phone back in her purse, it rang. A strange number showed on the screen. She smiled and took a deep breath.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Barry. Want to buzz me in?"

She went to the little button beside her door and pressed.

"Got it. Thanks," he said. She had the phone back in her purse when there was a tapping on her door. A last check in the mirror — ready.

She opened the door. Barry stood there in a dark suit, a big smile on his face. His mouth was open to speak ... no words. His eyes went from her face to her feet and back again.

"Oh ... my ... gosh," he finally mumbled, astonishment and awe coloring his tone. He saw the questioning look on her face. "You are gorgeous."

The way he was looking at her, the tone of his voice all told her what she was wanting to hear, but wasn't quite ready to believe.

"Come on in," she finally said.

Once inside, Barry said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so surprised but ..."

"I know I look different ... I'm just glad you like it. I wasn't sure."

"Be sure," he said quickly, head shaking vigorously.

"I'm dying to know where we're going for dinner," she said, biting her lower lip.

"You're still a policeman, right?"

"Always," she laughed.

"Then I better be honest with you."

"Damn straight," she snapped, unable to keep from giggling.

"I had two places picked out because, well ..."

"Because you weren't sure what I'd look like. And I take no offense at that. I know who I am."

He reached inside his coat and his hand emerged with a small black box. He handed it to her. She looked from the box to him, puzzled, but the huge smile that spread across his face made her feel good.

"Open it," he urged.

"I'm afraid," she answered.

He cocked his head toward her.

She slowly opened the box. Once open, she couldn't take her eyes away from it. Finally, her eyes rolled up to his.

"I've never seen anything like that in my life," she said, barely above a whisper. "Except maybe in the movies. In To Catch a Thief maybe."

Barry stood and took the necklace from the box. The sparkle was brilliant and intense. He moved behind Eileen and carefully put it around her neck, pressing her blonde hair out of the way. He fastened the clasp.

"I thought you might enjoy wearing this for tonight. It usually just sits in the display case in the store. It needs to be seen and I couldn't think of a more fitting place for it to be displayed."

She turned and went to her closet door and the full-length mirror. It was stunning, magnificent, breathtaking, overwhelming.

"Are they ...?" she asked, looking at him.

"They are," he answered. "It looks like it was made for you."

"Barry, it would terrify me to wear this out of the apartment."

"Then I guess you'll be terrified all evening. And, stared at a good bit as well. Plus, I was cautious enough to be sure to have the police present to take care of it."

As she turned to face him, it just seemed the thing to do, and she hugged him.

"Thank you," she said, getting a gentle hug in return.

Some more chatter and giggling, and they were headed to Barry's car, Eileen very conscious of the, as far as she was concerned, priceless necklace Barry had put around her neck.

Once inside Barry's very plush Lexus, Eileen was even more curious about where they were going for dinner.

"So, you going to torment me more about where we're going to eat?"

"I'm not tormenting, just not telling." He laughed.

She wasn't good at surprises. Things like that made her nearly insane. She needed to know. Christmas had always been a horrible time for her. She was in such mental agony by the time the presents were opened, she could barely enjoy them. She sent a pleading look to Barry when he glanced her direction.

"Okay, sorry. You look like you're about to die." He laughed. She tried to laugh but it wasn't very convincing. "We're going to a place called The Roadside Inn. It's not an inn any longer, just a restaurant. I think you'll love it. It looks like an old farmhouse, which it is. But once inside, it's an entirely different world."

"Sounds fascinating."

"Indeed."

Indeed ... indeed. It was more than fascinating. White linen and sterling silver shone everywhere, despite the dim lighting. Thick carpet on the floor that she wasn't used to in places where she ate. Tile or linoleum was more in order at those places. The maître d' greeted them, asked Barry about his table preference, then escorted them through the rooms to their table. Everyone they passed was dressed much as she and Barry were, the men all nodding and smiling as she passed. She was certain they were smiling at the necklace and not at her.

While he was seating her, the maître d' called her "madame." When he said it, she glanced at Barry. The look on her face must have told him something.

He reached across the table and took both of her hands in his.

"You're not ready to accept it just yet, but you belong here. Look around. Is there another woman that can match your beauty tonight?" His eyes held hers as he spoke.

Her instinct was to tell him he was full of shit, but she wanted to believe what he was saying. She was sure no other lady in The Roadside Inn had a 9mm Glock in their purse. She was also sure that no other woman there was wearing a fifty-thousand-dollar necklace either. With Barry holding her hands and looking at her the way he was, she felt much more like the lady in the necklace than the one with the Glock. She liked it.

When the wine steward appeared at the table, she knew a Bud Light was not the proper choice.

"You choose," she said to Barry. "I trust your judgment."

"Wine, or something else?" he questioned.

"Wine is fine," she said, a slight nod indicating her approval.

"You seem like a red-wine lady to me," he suggested when the steward had left.

"I guess we'll find out," she agreed, getting a laugh from Barry.

"What do you think so far?"

He had a way of making every inquiry sound very sincere and, well, truthful. It put her at ease.

"Honestly?" She got a "why would I want anything else" look.

"I think I'm way out of my league here." She was debating with herself. She could tell him about Butch.

The wine steward was back so "Butch" would have to wait. She eyed the glass as it filled with the red liquid.

"Try it," Barry encouraged.

She did. She decided it wasn't too bad, still hardly being able to grasp where she was and what was happening. Sipping wine in an exquisitely beautiful restaurant while sitting across from a man who was becoming more appealing by the minute. Not to mention the necklace he had so carefully put around her neck.

She had no idea what to order, barely recognizing anything on the menu so, mimicking what she'd seen in a movie long ago, she deferred to his judgment, receiving a questioning smile in return.

"Just when I think I've figured something out, you surprise me."

"Being here makes me wonder just who I am. My nickname, in the department, is 'Butch.'"

Barry's brow furrowed. "You're not trying to tell me something are you?"

A delightful laugh from Eileen.

"Whew," was his reply.

Eileen was surprised at how comfortable she had become with Barry. She was always wary of men, a product of her time with Chris who turned out to be so different than he had at first seemed. It left her distrustful. It left her apprehensive. It left her suspicious. It left her ... alone.

The food arrived and sad thoughts were banished as wonderful aromas wafted to her nose. Barry looked at her cautiously.

"Don't worry," she assured him. "Nothing that smells this delightful can be anything but delicious." Delightful? When was the last time she'd used that word? Dressed as she was, it seemed appropriate. She giggled to herself.

She was right. It was a wonderful meal and the second and then third glasses of wine were equally fulfilling. She was beginning to feel cozy and warm here. It had been a while since she'd felt this way, both cozy and ... buzzed. She thought they might be related. She watched Barry pay, then stand, offering her his hand.

She stood, Barry holding her arm, then her waist, guiding her through the old farmhouse and to his car.

"You okay?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.

"I am," she grinned. "Better than I've been for a long time."

She got a kiss on the cheek as he helped her into his car. He climbed in behind the wheel and headed for his place.

He didn't ask, merely told her where they were headed. She offered no resistance or complaint, actually anticipating what lay ahead.

As they drove and talked, she could feel herself recovering from the three glasses of wine.

His house was just as she imagined it might be; large and very plush. Plush might not be the best word, but it was all she could think of at the moment. The garage door raised, he pulled inside, and the door closed. The effect of that was not lost on Eileen. Still, no complaint.

Inside the house, her eyes roamed, enthralled by what she was seeing. It was beautiful where it should have been handsome. She looked at Barry, certain he could see the question in her eyes.

He gazed at her for long seconds. She could see the indecision gripping him.

"I'm divorced," he said reluctantly. "This," he said, gesturing, "was her work. I've just left it."

"Divorced for how long?" she queried, feeling even more comfortable now.

"Five years."

"Six for me," she said quickly, returning Barry's smile.

A look of amazement crossed his face. "We're learning, aren't we? But there's one more test you have to pass."

"What?" she said, eying Barry.

"Don't worry. It's an easy one." He walked to a door on the far side of the room and opened it.

Eileen's mouth fell open. "Is that ... a Great Dane?"

"He's not a 'that,' he's a Burly. And, he is a Great Dane."

As Barry continued to talk, the huge dog was approaching her. She loved dogs and would have one of her own except for the apartment rules. But Burly was a little more than she was used to.

"In case you're wondering, he outweighs you by about thirty pounds. He's gentle though."

She could hear Barry chuckling as Burly was now just inches from her. He sniffed her feet, then up her legs. The giant head swung toward hers and he was sniffing her, her nose and her face. She was expecting a giant tongue to taste her, but Burly was very polite, just staring into her eyes. Suddenly he began wiggling all over, and she did get a huge lap from that tongue. He was pressing against her, nearly knocking her off the couch.

"You've passed," Barry laughed, sitting down beside her. "Okay, Burly," he said sternly. Burly lay down at their feet, looking very content.

"So, I had to pass the Burly test?"

"If you're going to be around me, you have to like Burly too."

Be around me? He was making assumptions about the future, something she wasn't quite ready for yet. She'd gone to dinner with him. She had to admit that she had surprised herself by doing that. Still, be around me?

"It was easy to see that you're a dog person — a real dog person. Some like dogs, as long as they're small. When Burly was nose to nose, you didn't cringe at all." He looked at Burly. "'She' wouldn't have anything to do with a dog ... of any kind."

"She?"

"Annette."

"Chris was mine."

"We'll have to compare sometime."

There he was again. Sometime? If they were going to compare "sometime," it meant they'd have to be together "sometime." Was that what she wanted?

She nodded, watching his face. She hoped her nod was noncommittal but wasn't sure she'd accomplished that.

"But not right now," he added, scooting closer to her. She began to tingle, an unconscious response. She willed it to stop as if she could control that with her brain. She watched his face, the look there telling her clearly how he wanted the evening to go.

She was an adult — it had been six years, despite Nick's efforts to end her sexual drought. She could let Barry have his way with her, just this once, and she could move on with her life. His continual references to the future told her that a "one time" was not what he wanted. What did she want? She knew part of what she wanted. Barry was watching, waiting for her to give herself to him. She was ready to do that. The tingle and the dampness she was sensing between her legs told her she was ready to do that. The question was, for how long?

He'd never said what he wanted — not directly. But there were those other words that he had said. What to do?

She watched his face approach hers until their noses touched. Her eyes closed as she felt his lips against hers. One hand was behind her neck, pressing her face to his; lips that had been lightly touching, now pressing more fervently. She felt his tongue probing — she teased it with her lips, felt it moving back and forth until she couldn't stand it any longer and pressed her tongue against it, then pulled it between her lips, her teeth nibbling gently, the sounds he was making causing her body to react. Her nipples hardened and she could feel more wetness gathering between her legs.

His hands went around her neck ... he unclasped the necklace and carefully laid it aside.

"Just temporary," he said softly, kissing her again.

Temporary? Another of those words that had "future" intertwined, even if not spoken.

They were quickly together again and she heard Barry's groan as their tongues tangled, probing, wanting more. Her heart was pounding, every part of her body reacting, wanting more, wanting to be touched, to be a part of what was happening. She moaned as she felt the zipper at the back of her dress being carefully lowered, the single strap sliding off her shoulder. He loosened the first hook of her strapless bra, then the second, and finally, the last one. He pulled it off and tossed it aside. She was losing her chance to decide. Barry had decided for her.

It had been years since she had been topless with a man. She was thirty now, not twenty-four as she had been then. She could hardly breathe as she opened her eyes to see Barry looking at her. It was a look she savored, as she felt his hand on her breast, squeezing, probing. Could she?

"Fuck, Eileen," he groaned, squeezing her nipple "I want you."

"Then take me," she whispered breathily, abandoning all the reservations that had accumulated over six years of abstinence. She pulled his head to hers, kissing his nose, his eyes, everything her lips could reach. Her lips held his as he stood, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up with him. She pushed the dress over her hips and let it fall around her ankles. Barry was struggling to remove his jacket and then his tie and shirt, never taking his eyes off her, standing in front of him, bare-breasted with hose and heels and panties still on.

"Let me," she said, unfastening his belt. She could feel her nipples hardening even more as the pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them. Without even thinking, her hand closed on his hidden erection. It had been so long, but she knew what she wanted. She'd wanted it at twenty and she wanted it now.

She dropped to her knees, pulling the boxers down as she went. His cock was in front of her face, but only for seconds, as her lips slid over the glistening purple head, her tongue rolling around it. She caressed it gently, then more urgently. Not able to contain herself any longer, she pulled more of it into her mouth, savoring every ridge and vein, her tongue sliding along the softness of the underside. When she felt it bump against her throat, she stilled, then pressed on until his pubes tickled his nose.