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“See you then
.” Ian returned to his office, leaving Emily standing alone in the hallway outside the conference room. She let out the breath she was holding and couldn’t believe she was having dinner alone with Ian in his room, correction, his penthouse.

Emily wanted to pinch herself. The fantasies came unbidden of what she wished to happen. She returned to her office, her hand trembling as she ran it through her hair, feeling mad jolts of desire that made her close her eyes in
furious denial.

Imagining Ian seducing her made her
pulses dance alarmingly, knowing how unlikely that was to happen. She lost twenty-five pounds, was going to the gym three days a week, but she was no raving beauty like Tabitha. She was down into a size six. She knew she was getting there when she saw the approving looks of her coworkers of late, but still looked in the mirror and saw a fat girl.

No, she wasn’t close to being ready for any
kind of seduction. Just the thought of being alone with Ian made breathing difficult. Emily wondered how she would get through dinner with such a gorgeous man sitting across from her. She daydreamed for the rest of the afternoon, lost in the throes of such naughty imaginings; she had to fan her face, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

Ian didn’t see her as a desirable woman, she kept reminding herself. He was just doing his job, she thought over and over again. She was sinking to an all new low by having these provocative thoughts. Hadn’t he made it clear to the women at Stone
and Watterman he wasn’t about to jeopardize his job with Ambidor over the clause in his contract? No, he wouldn’t screw up his job to have a roll in the sack with someone affiliated with Ambidor. He was just overseeing the campaign, ensuring its success, as he said.

Ian
didn’t have a romantic bone in his body either. Didn’t he crush her hopes when he admitted how he felt about relationships? The insane desire to change his mind leapt within her, but she was dismayed to realize he was called Ian the Unattainable for all the right reasons.

Emily sat in the hairdresser’s chair and agreed to
the cut, highlights, and whatever other magic the girl could heap upon her drab brown locks. Joan looked on with eyes filled with delight. She was more than happy to give up her hair appointment up to Emily when she called her before leaving work. The hairdresser was expensive and sniffed despairingly as she inspected her hair. The girl clucked over her ratty split ends and shook her head. Joan smiled indulgently at her hairdresser before the girl disappeared in the back for supplies.

“I can’t believe you’re doing it! I wanted you to d
ye that mousy shit-brown hair of yours for years! What’s gotten into you?” Joan’s eyes widened and her voice lowered to a whisper. “Did you get laid? You did, didn’t you? Was it good?”

“No,
sorry. I didn’t get laid. It’s time I paid more attention to my looks,” Emily said defensively. “I have an important meeting with the Ambidor VIP’s next week. I have to look my best.”

Joan looked unconvinced. “You didn’t get laid? Really?”

“No, if I had, I would have told you.”

“Lately you don’t tell me anything, Em,” Joan accused, sounding a bit hurt. “I understand what you’re going through, but I’ve been there for you through it all. You don’t talk to me like you used to.”

“There’s nothing to tell! I’m not keeping anything from you!” Emily could see Joan didn’t believe her but the hairdresser returned and they changed the subject.

An hour later, covered in foil wraps and sitting under a dryer, Emily
despaired to know she lied to Joan daily. She felt like the worst best friend in the world for keeping so many secrets. Deep down she knew Joan wouldn’t approve of her feelings for Ian, or the lengths she went to just to get his attention. It was beneath her to act so childish. She knew it was more than grief at play here. She had something to prove to herself, something only winning Ian the Unattainable would give her. Why did it mean so much to her to get his interest? Deep down she knew why he’d become such a personal challenge. It burned to know the letter was at the root of it, taunting her with its many hidden truths.

If Joan knew the details of her husband’s secret life, she would pity her. Pity wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed the attentions of a gorgeous, desirable man, one who could make her forget everything.

“You look great, Emily,” Joan squealed when the hairdresser applied the finishing touches. Emily looked this way and that, agreeing the lighter shade of brown with subtle blonde highlights were indeed flattering on her. The layered cut accented her face, offsetting her eyes. The effect was enough to make even Emily nod in approval at her appearance. Yes, she did look good, she had to admit. A new hairdo required a new outfit.

While Joan browsed the chic racks of designer clothes
at the mall, Emily hunted the clearance aisle, wanting to crow in delight when she found the outfit. The black knit jacket, beaded blouse, and skinny jeans made her feel ten times hotter once she tried them on.

Joan was paying for her purchases when Emily approached, smiling in approval at the shopping bag she toted at her side. “Did you bag some bargains?”

“And then some,” Emily said with a grin. “I needed something new.”

“Did I mention Victoria
’s Secret is having their semi-annual bra sale?”Emily’s eyes nearly bugged out to learn her favorite store was having the sale she lived for. She must have looked like a little kid at Christmas. Joan laughed at her dreamy expression. “We’re going. You need some new underwear. That ought to make you happy.”

“Underwear always makes me happy.”

“Yes, I know. I never will understand this fetish you have about underwear.”

Come to think of it, neither did Emily. Every since she was potty-trained by her mother, she had a thing for
big-girl panties. As she got older, she spent every bit of her allowance on new frilly under things; collecting as many as a hundred bras before she could no longer afford the drawer space. She had to downsize to forty of her favorites before she left for college.

Eddie was shocked when he saw the amount of underwear she possessed after he started sleeping over at her dorm regularly. He looked a bit embarrassed, asking why she needed so many. Emily never really understood that either.

What person needed a hundred and forty-three bras, over two hundred pairs of panties, and lingerie in every conceivable color and style? She had peignoir sets she never even wore before, not even on her own wedding night. The negligees were still wrapped in tissue paper, some made of the finest silk, all bought because of some insane quirk she had, unable to resist them.

 
Lately, she began to fantasize about wearing the collection for Ian. She definitely never wore them for Eddie. He never much cared what she was wearing when he came home jacked up from a night of drinking with his buddies. Suddenly, she pushed those memories away, feeling disturbed by them, realizing how little her husband cared about her pleasure during their marriage.

She was uncomfortable to think about how long ago it was she actually had an orgasm. The fact she couldn’t remember made her sad to know
Eddie never cared to make sure she was satisfied. He would achieve his own desires and promptly roll over and go to sleep, leaving her unsatisfied, and waiting for something more. Something more never came. She got used to just laying there, thinking of other things until he finished.

Emily was dis
mayed by these recollections. Something in her face must have alerted Joan. Her friend’s sunny smile faded. “Honey, are you ok? You have the weirdest look on your face. Are you going to throw up?”

The sales girl behind the register looked horrified
at that prospect. Emily shook her head, the telling revelations she just tapped into too painful to focus on anymore. She didn’t want to think about Eddie and his shitty, one-sided humping in the middle of Macy’s. She didn’t want to think at all. Better to focus on something else far more pleasant. New underwear always made her giddy.

“Hurry up before everything’s picked over,” Emily demanded, realizing she was once again pushing away feeling anything. Sooner or later she had to deal with Eddie and the pain of her loss, but not today. Today push-up bras danced before her eyes, in lace and satin so shimmering and perfect, she couldn’t think of anything else.

“You know, you need to consider buying stock in Victoria’s Secret as much as you shop there,” Joan teased as they left Macy’s and headed down the mall to Emily’s favorite store in the whole world.

“
I’d just spend all the profits,” Emily said with a giggle. “Where would I put all that underwear?”

“True, we’d find you
one day suffocated under a mountain of thongs,” Joan lamented with a sad sigh, shaking her head at the visual. 

They burst out laughing
. For the first time in months, Emily could say she was feeling more like herself again. At that moment, she was happy, light-hearted, and free of the lingering sadness that haunted her since Eddie’s death.

An hour later, they exited the crowded store. Emily felt excited to imagine wearing the light copper satin matching bra and panties under her new outfit. The daring push-up bra was marked down incorrectly to her calculations. The saleswoman realized the error, but they had to give it to her at the price it was marked. She felt like she attained a military coup when she hefted her
hot pink bag down the mall thoroughfare. 

Joan understood when she claimed she brought work ho
me with her and passed on having dinner with her. She was ashamed to have to resort to lying to her best friend as she did. Joan would be upset to know what she was doing. She told herself once this infatuation passed, she need never tell anyone of it. If no one knew how messed up she really was; it didn’t count. Or did it? She prayed this fascination with Ian Sawyer faded once she got to know him better. Somehow, she doubted that would be the case.

~
~ ~

Emily met Bachelor #4 that night. His name was Shane. He had an artsy, moody look about him. He dressed with a lazy style that was slightly bohemian. She was pleased he didn’t seem to notice the variances in her appearance as much as he did the spots on the silverware at the
restaurant. He was lamenting over the filth when their drink order arrived.

He was good-looking, dark-haired, and obviously narcissistic to the extreme. He talked warmly about himself for nearly thirty minutes. His phone seemed to be surgically attached to his hand. He kept looking at it. Emily was annoyed to realize he was receiving texts during their date.
She bit her lip to see him answering the messages.

“It’s my mom,”
Shane explained with an apologetic smile. “She just had surgery on her feet and can’t get around. She asked me to pick some things up for her on my way home. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, not at all,” Emily said and her concerns he was texting another woman diminished. She was determined this date be successful. “You and your mother are close?”

Shane went on to explain how his father died the year before and he was looking out for his mother now. She thought she might have misjudged him. Any man who went out of his way to care for his mother must be a paragon of virtue. Did it matter he admitted to living with her? Still, when the texting continued she became a bit annoyed. Either his mother was giving him a full grocery list one item at a time, or he wasn’t texting his mother as he claimed. He was snickering over a new message when the waiter arrived with their appetizers.

Shane regarded the tray of finger foods in horror. “Does
any of that have MSG in it?”

The waiter looked clueless. “I don’t really know, sir. I can get my supervisor for you.”

“I can’t eat anything with MSG in it,” Shane said tightly and glared at the waiter. “You might want to have disclosures in your menu. Are you trying to make me sick?”

The waiter looked mortified. “No, of course not, sir. If it makes you feel better, you can talk to the kitchen supervisor. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what MSG is.”

Shane tossed down his cloth napkin
. He was muttering under his breath. He gazed at Emily as though he was saving the world, a freedom fighter to do battle with MSG. He rose to follow the waiter to the side door to the kitchen. He left his phone behind.

Emily knew it was wrong. She couldn’t resist. She snatched up his
cell phone and gazed at the screensaver in interest. He had a picture of a half-naked woman there, leaning provocatively over the hood of a Lamborghini.
Nice
, she thought in disgust. She clicked the button that activated the light on his Smart Phone. She opened the thread to read the messages there with growing anger. He was indeed talking to a woman, but it wasn’t his mother, that was for sure!

The
erotic picture messages made her face fill with heat. The buxom blonde woman was sending him pictures of her in lacy, revealing lingerie the whole time. The woman had no clue Shane was on another date or she might not have
shared
so much. Emily knew him to be a total liar. She sighed in despair as she replaced his phone, determined not to let on. She would get through the date. Fury filled her to know he could just sit there and carry on in front of her, under the guise of getting to know her. She was furious to know she believed he was texting his mother too. Now his living with his mother made perfect sense. He was obviously a bum, with no career, nothing but his looks and slick lies to appeal to a woman.