"Ah Kels, I do love you so," he whispers as he gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. "I’ll be back in a flash."

"Oh, Erik," Harper says to him, but looks at me. "Take your time. I’m sure Veronica and I can keep Kels entertained for a few minutes."

Erik stands and buttons his jacket before leaning over to Harper. "It’s Victoria. You could at least try to get it right."

As he walks away Harper watches him go then turns back to me. "Presumptuous little shit, isn’t he?"

"He’s a caring person. He hates to see people treated badly." I look over to Victoria who it staring intently into her water, completely enthralled by whatever she sees there. Now I understand it: Marion must have had too much in the brains department.

Sparky speaks. "Harper, could you excuse me for just a second. I need to…"

Flee! Flee! You poor, stupid woman before she uses you and tosses you away, too. Harper slides out of the booth to allow her to exit, patting Sparky’s butt the same way she patted mine today outside of the library. All too soon Harper and I are alone.

"So what’s the going rate for a lay these days, Harper? A two hundred dollar dinner?" I sip my wine looking at her over the rim of my glass.

"No; actually, I could have had her for another drink at the bar. I was just in the mood for a nice dinner and some pleasant company. She may not suit your intellectual standards, but she is polite and sweet. You could learn a lot from her."

"Hmm, generally pleasant company means they can string more than two words together at the same time."

"And what about you and Mr. Wonderful? Don’t you get tired of playing these silly little games with Erik?"

"Games? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean."

"Yes, you do, Kelsey Stanton." She leans in on both her arms very nearly coming clear across the table. "The ‘I’m straight’ game. It’s bullshit and we both know it. You don’t have any more of a relationship with Erik than I do with what’s-her-name. The only difference is I’m gonna get laid tonight and you’re not. You’re gonna go back to your fancy penthouse and get into your big old bed and curl up around your pillow. Must be getting awfully lonely there, Kels. I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve been held in the warm embrace of a lover. An even longer time since you fell asleep with your head resting on someone’s shoulder while they held you and caressed you, worshipping your body with their fingertips."

I hope that the lust I’m feeling isn’t showing on my face as I smile at her. "My life with Erik is none of your goddamned business. We have a perfectly marvelous relationship and I would like to invite you to get the hell out of my bedroom."

Harper leans back giving me her trademark smirk as she lifts her wineglass to her lips. "Yeah, I figured as much. Truth hurts doesn’t it, Kels?"

God, I hate this woman.

Harper smiles at my silence and runs a finger along the rim of her glass. "Don’t worry, Kels. Your secret’s safe with me."

Thankfully, Erik returns. Apparently, he heard the last of her words. "What secret is that?" he asks amicably as he takes his seat beside me. "Alexander says hello."

I look over to where the meaty man is leering at me and give him a meek smile and a slight wave. He grins and winks before turning his attention back to his own group and I’m grateful. I only feel able to handle one problem at a time.

"The secret about Kels being gay and your relationship being a sham," Harper says helpfully. I’d been hoping his question would be dropped. I should have known better.

Erik hesitates a moment too long as he meets my gaze. I can’t blame him, I know that he’s trying to see if I’ve admitted as much to this woman. When he sees no such indication, he turns back to Harper and is grinning slightly.

"I understand why you would want her to be gay, Ms. Kingsley. Who wouldn’t want Kelsey? What I don’t understand is how people can jump to conclusions that are so obviously incorrect." He leans forward while wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I can assure you that Kelsey is absolutely heterosexual," Erik raises an eyebrow suggestively. "I have the scratches on my back to prove it."

Well, okay. That may have been over the top but inside I’m grinning. Harper seems temporarily stymied but I can tell she’s not completely convinced. She gracefully changes the subject when Veronica ... Sparky ... whoever the hell she is returns from the facilities.

Sliding out to let her date into the booth, she moves a large tanned hand over the other woman’s body with more than a hint of possessiveness. "So, how are the restrooms in a swank place like this?"

Sparky’s eyes seem to shine as she grins. "There was music playing in there! And a woman handing out towels. I used some of the perfume they had by the sink." She offers her wrists to Harper to smell. The tall woman obliges, taking a nip of the skin as well, making her companion blush and her eyes go dark with desire.

Ugh. There goes my libido again.

"Good choice of wines," Erik compliments, trying to get back to mundane chit-chat. Thank God, it works.

Shortly, our meals come and we eat them with minimal conversation. Harper seems to have turned her attention from torturing me to teasing her date. The heat coming from the other side of the table is almost smothering.

Despite my silent pleas and dagger looks, Erik orders dessert, dragging this meal out longer than necessary. I, of course, decline. I’m not the bottomless pit he seems to be and everything I eat manages to find its way to my hips in no time flat. Sparky and Harper appear to be closer to Erik’s constitution and they each order something sweet to finish the meal. I satisfy myself with a cup of tea.

Finally, we are waiting for the check and I excuse myself to use the restroom. Sparky’s friend hands me a towel and I freshen up before stepping out into the short hallway off the front entrance.

It’s dark and out of direct view of the main restaurant and this provides some excellent cover. Suddenly, I’m pressed up against the wood paneling behind me and my eyes meet the dark lapels of an Armani. Slowly, my eyes scan up a well-muscled column of a tanned neck, past full lips, to sparkling blue jewels.

Harper is pressing me fully into the wall, I can feel her body hot and firm against me. She parts my legs with one of hers and raises it as much as she can given the length of my dress. She makes up for the restriction by tilting her hips and making sound contact with me. Oh, God.

Her breath is laced with wine and I wonder if she’s had too much. I also wonder, idly, if I’ll actually stop her should she try to pursue anything. (As if this isn’t pursuing anything.) The feeling of her against me is exquisite, those hooded luminous eyes captivating. It’s times like these that I regret my lifestyle choice.

She moves her leg slowly, rubbing against me, causing tingles to run up and down my spine. I know, in the part of my brain that’s still functioning, that I need to make a decision to let her in or push her out. I realize there is no reason, aside from the obvious and raging lust, to let her in on my well-kept secret. This rationalization wins out. Logic always does.

"Get off of me," I grit out between my teeth, raising my hands and pushing at her broad shoulders. "I think you’ve had too much to drink, Harper."

"I’ve had just enough," she disagrees with a smile. But she is moving away from me. Thank God. Another few seconds and my resolve would have crumbled. It has been far too long since I got laid.

My body is cold without her against it and I shiver involuntarily. This only makes her grin broader.

She runs a hand up my body from waist, over my breast, along my jawline, to brush against my cheek. "Some day, Kels. And, I promise you, I won’t leave you wanting." Then, with a wink and a leer, Harper disappears into the women’s restroom, leaving me panting and helpless with the wall as my only support.

I push away from the paneling and straighten my dress. It’s all I can do to collect Erik with a minimum of words and no explanation to Sparky before we are on the sidewalk. We head towards the Mercedes where it waits patiently on the curb half a block away.

"What happened?" Erik asks, his arm around my shoulders, his voice confused.

I shake my head, not wishing to talk about it even to my best friend. Not sure that I can talk about it.

"I didn’t even pay, Kels. We ran out and stuck her with the check."

"Good," I say and I mean it. She deserves it. She’s such a confident, pompous bitch. How in the hell did I get into this mess?

Erik opens my door and settles me comfortably in the passenger side before trotting around to slide behind the wheel. "Kelsey, you know I love you," he says as he pulls away, starting our short drive home. There’s a ‘but’ coming, I know it. "But," he doesn’t disappoint me, "you are a different person around her. What is it about her? I know she’s a cad and shameless, but you’re above that, honey. Why does it eat at you so?"

I shrug my shoulders and settle more deeply into my leather seat.

"You don’t want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. He catches the movement out of the corner of his eyes and he nods.

"Okay. But if you do, you know I’m here."

I reach over and pat his knee. I do know that.

It’s just too hard to admit that I don’t know whether to rip her clothes off or kill her.

Episode Six: Clueless

I sit behind my desk doing my best to forget last night. Dinner wasn’t so damn bad – in fact, it was kinda fun watching Kelsey squirm - it was what happened after.

I shuffle a stack of tapes from one side of my desk to the other as the memories come back to me.

There I was blissfully enjoying the natural wonders of Victoria (I can remember her name when I focus) when it happened. Right in the middle of what should have been one of the most incredible experiences of Victoria’s life, Kelsey Stanton’s face and voice came into my mind and I couldn’t shake them. It was all I could do to keep from yelling her name.

It was that comment Kelsey made to me about staying out of ‘my bedroom.’ Not ‘our bedroom’, but ‘my bedroom’. Oops, told on yourself, Kels. I chuckle as I move to the file cabinet and try to get it organized. I glance through the large plate glass window to my office and watch as Kels makes her grand entrance. Good God, she is attractive. Why does she have to be such a pain in the ass?

I notice she’s dressed down today: tailored slacks and a very nice, silky, blue blouse. Hmm, must be a tad cold in the hallway. I grin again as I shake my head and stick my head back in my file cabinet; it’s wonderful to have good eyesight. There’s a knock on the door before it opens. Franklin Saunders, the General Manager, comes in without waiting for an invitation and closes the door behind him.

"Good morning, Harper."

"Good morning, Big Boss. What can I do for you?" Saunders is over Chambers, who is the News Director. He is older and fatter. This is how you can tell the two apart.

"Harper," he begins as he drops himself down on the couch that lines the wall across from my desk. "Do you have any experience with undercover camera work?"

Well, there are a thousand different smart ass answers to that one, but I’ll play it safe and assume he’s talking about work. I close the file cabinet and lean against it with my arms crossed. "Yeah, I know how to be discreet. You got something in mind?"

"I got an insider tip this morning about some serious drug dealing going on in one of the local high schools, one of the more elite ones, you know. With white kids."

My eyes narrow at this blatant racist remark. "You know, my parents moved from Louisiana for exactly that reason."

He is confused. "What?" Then he smiles knowingly, like we’re in the same club or something. "Oh, to be around better people."

"Yes, exactly," I agree, but not for the same reasons. "Dr. King was a good friend to my parents before his murder. And I grew up calling Ms. Parks my favorite adopted grandmother."

Saunders looks perplexed, then angry as what I have said sinks in.

I’m not a member of your club, buddy. I don’t even use white cotton sheets on my bed. Always preferred flannel, or satin, depending on the activities planned. That is another story, however.

And I’ve hardly warmed up to this one. "I’m named after Harper Lee, the novelist. She wrote about the wrongful conviction and murder of a man whose only crime was being born with the wrong color skin. My family has been in Louisiana longer than Louisiana has been in the United States. My parents love New Orleans because it is such a wonderful blend of cultures and people. But, when the South grappled with issues of racial justice in the Sixties, my parents moved to Birmingham, at Dr. King’s personal request, to be on the front lines. I don’t think I realized I was white, or a girl, until I was old enough to know that neither of them meant shit if I wasn’t a decent human being first and foremost." I stare long and meaningfully at him.