Degradation by Stylo Fantome Page A

didn't really date, wasn't looking for a relationship, but it didn't stop Rus from hoping. Tate was beginning to think she'd have to share some of her and Ang's dirtier stories, in hopes of scaring her roommate off from him. Rus was a sweetheart – sex swings and ball gags probably weren't her thing.
    “Oh! I forgot, you left your cell phone here – it rang a whole bunch,” Rus said, after Ang had danced out the door. Tate grabbed the phone off the table, squinting at the screen. It was the temp agency she worked for – a new job? Score. She called them back.
    “Hi, Tatum, how are you?” the temp agency manager, Carla, breathed down the phone line.
    “Super dooper. You called me, like eight times? What's up?” Tate asked, rifling through a bowl of of mixed nuts and goodies.
    “I've got a job for you, if you're interested!” Carla breathed.
    “Sure. What is it?” Tate said around a mouthful of food.
    “A law firm downtown is having a conference. Their regular assistant is sick and they have an important meeting with a client tomorrow afternoon. You won't have to perform her normal duties, just show up for the meeting and serve water, muffins, that kind of stuff. Quick and easy,” Carla's voice got even breathier.
    How does she talk like that? Did she take lessons?
    “Sounds like my kind of job. What should I wear?” Tate asked.
    “Business attire. If you have a dress that works, that would be great, but a skirt, or trousers, and button down blouse would be fine. Be there at one o'clock sharp, okay?” Breathy McBreather breathed.
    “Sure, sure. Where is it at?”
    “Um ...,” Carla prattled off the address, her voice barely a whisper. “And make sure you're on time. They made a big deal out of that. They requested you especially, you know.”
    Tate choked on an almond.
    “Me!? Why me?” she managed to cough out.
    “I don't know. Said they'd seen your work. I guess you did a really great job! One o'clock, remember!” Carla's breathy voice almost sang.
    “Remembered.”
    Tate stared down at her phone after she'd ended the call. She could kinda remember temping for a lawyer, but it wasn't like she'd done anything amazing. At least she didn't think so. She wasn't even sure if it was for the same law firm, but maybe it was; maybe her filing skills were super impressive. Legendary. Maybe she'd blown the guy. Who knows.
    Oh well. A job was a job. She wandered in to her room and spent the next hour digging through her closet, seeing if she had anything that fit the bill.

~3~
    Jameson Kane stood in front of his desk, staring down at a file folder. Tatum O'Shea's file from the temp agency stared back up at him. It had taken him forever to find which temp agency she even worked for – and then he had paid a hefty price for a copy of her file.
    Over the years, he'd thought about her occasionally, but not enough to ask about her to anyone. The sex had been mind blowing. A young, twenty-three year old at the time, he had just been discovering the kind of man he was; he'd been dating Ellie for two years, and hadn't quite yet had the chance to fully explore his sexual appetites.
    He had slept with other people, multiple times, but he never cheated – Ellie always knew, beforehand and afterwards. He had tried to break up with her, several times, but then the screaming would start. The crying. The begging. Then threatening. The Kanes and the O'Sheas were close friends. Did he really want to jeopardize that?
    After two years together, Jameson had finally begun to realize he didn't care if he jeopardized anything. He was going to end things with Eloise O'Shea. Move away from Harrisburg, go back to school, something. Head to Manhattan. Just get away from everything. He was bored with everything, bored with his life. He needed something different. He just had to figure out what it was, and how to go about getting it.
    And then Tatum had walked in to his apartment. He had developed a sort of hard on for Tate. Eloise's