Dominique almost moaned aloud at the thought, and as it were, she felt a shiver run down her spine. Adding to her lack of concentration was her text message indicator going off on her desk. She thought she’d be home by now, and knew Tessa was probably wondering if she should prepare to spend the night.

But the message wasn’t from Tessa.

It was from Jake.

My tongue.Your pussy.

That was it. Stick a fork in it because Dominique was done. She didn’t even bother with her usual routine—stacking the mock-up pages to the left of the table and tidying up her desk. She didn’t even stop to text back an answer. She simply walked over to her desk, turned off her computer, grabbed her briefcase and purse, and was gone.

Jake turned off the shower spigots. He stepped from the oversized stall, reached for a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. He tried not to feel down, but at almost ten PM, he felt that he had to face the facts. Dominique was not coming over. Work came first.

He eyed himself in the mirror a moment before deciding to go downstairs and grab a beer. He’d brought home the video from the previous Saturday’s game and figured there were a few tricks for his team he could pull from his sleeve if he continued watching it. The opponent’s quarterback was good, but even the best player had his weakness. Jake had spotted one of them—his inability to run well from side to side. Jake determined that there were probably more where that came from.

There was something else on his mind—an offer that had come to him last week. A school in Texas was waving big bucks in his face to come and direct their athletic department. Middleton Prep’s offer notwithstanding, when it came to being involved in elementary through high school football, Texas was the state where you wanted to be. The Lone Stars took their pigskin seriously and when it came to salary, they’d basically said he could name his price. Part of his hesitation to even considering the offer had been his love for Middleton Prep and the Hurricanes in general, and his growing feelings for Justin and Dominique in particular. But maybe I should consider putting my work first for a change. Jake reached into the fridge, grabbed a beer, unscrewed the top, and leaned against the counter as he took a long, refreshing drink. Many of his family lived near where he’d be working. His twin, Johnny, lived in Baton Rouge; Mike lived in Atlanta; and Harold lived in Birmingham, not too far from where they’d all grown up and where his mother, Bernadette, still lived. He’d been on the West Coast for over twenty years. Maybe it’s time for me to move closer to home.