After grabbing our drinks and dancing for a bit, we’d headed back to the secluded area, so we could get to know each other better.

I hadn’t actually planned on talking.

“Investments,” I answered. I casually sipped my drink.

I hadn’t given her my real name, assuming she hadn’t given me hers. To her, I was John, the mysterious investment banker, and that was all the information she would get out of me for the evening.

“You don’t like to talk much,” she said as a statement. Her ruby-red lips curved into a knowing smile as she watched my eyes run down the length of her body.

“Only when it’s necessary,” I answered.

“And you don’t find it necessary now?”

“Not really. You made your intentions at the bar perfectly clear. I liked what you had to offer and took you up on it. Is there anything else to discuss? From the brief knowledge I have of you and the vast knowledge I have of myself, I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other past this evening, so in reality, unnecessary words are just prolonging the inevitable.”

Her eyes were calculating as she replied, “And just what does this foregone conclusion entail?”

“A hell of a lot more fun than we’re having now,” I said with a wolfish grin.

“Well…” she said casually. She took time to finish her drink. She set the glass down on the table next to us and rose slowly, letting me appreciate every curvy inch of her. A few steps had her reaching for the privacy curtain, and she pulled the dark velvety fabric tightly behind her. “I guess we should just shut up then.”

There was a reason men in prominent positions in the world were always caught cheating. Sure, one could argue it had to do with power corrupting their brain and whatnot. But when you became a world-class athlete, a senator, or an actor all the paparazzi kept following, there was one thing that was sure to follow.

Stress.

Over the years, women had found endless ways to deal with stress. Yoga, bath salts, and God knew what else.

Men on the other hand? We’d pretty much come up with only one surefire way of dealing with high amounts of stress.

Sex.

Sure, there might be a few granola dickwads out there, saying running or bicycling was the ultimate stress reliever. But, for most of us, a hot and ready female would always win over a 5K any day.

After my little rendezvous with Morgan behind the curtain and multiple shots of whiskey, I felt like a ten-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Like any red-blooded male, I’d kept my stress from going postal with self-maintenance sessions in the shower, but there was nothing like a little one-on-one action with an attentive female.