living room and slumped on a couch. Rachel shut the door and followed.
"I was asleep."
"It's almost noon."
"That's too fucking early.” Cass scowled at the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tyler's waterfront condo. “Of all days for it to decide not to rain in Seattle. I've got a mother of a hangover.” She squinted into the sun, then smiled. “Oh yeah, I remember last night now. Me. Tyler. Empty football stadium and bottle of good whiskey. That man can—"
"Cass.” Rachel held up a hand, not interested in traversing that sex-laden path. She'd be too jealous. “I brought you something."
Cass perked up. She could be bought. Easily. “I hope it's diamonds or white gold. I'm partial to white gold."
"Actually it's mocha.” Rachel held the large cup of java out to her friend.
Cass latched on to it and sucked it down. “As good as an orgasm. Well, almost. Tyler is a naughty, naughty boy with a deviant streak."
"I so do not want to hear this.” Rachel plopped onto the overstuffed, beige leather chair. Her own sex-starved brain flashed to a high-def image of a shirtless Derek, his sweat-dampened body glistening in the afternoon sun.
"Let me paint a picture for you."
"I'd rather be left in suspense.” Rachel groaned.
"Not a freaking chance in Hades. You wake me up, you pay. Last night and into the early hours, I roughed the passer and was penalized, and can that man penalize! The Ty-man ran several touchdown plays of his own. I'll never look at the three-hundred level of Jacks Stadium in the same way."
"You did it in the stadium?"
"In several different positions."
"I've heard enough.” Rachel held her hands over her ears.
"You ever imagined doing it in a stadium?"
"No, I haven't. I barely imagine it on a bed."
"Honey, you need to expand your horizons."
"Let's expand one thing at a time."
"We could start with your ancient views on sex. Sex doesn't need to be forever. It needs to be right now, hot, sweaty, nasty, and daring. Live in the moment. If it's good enough, the guys keep coming back for more. End of story. Love is a myth. Screwing is the reality."
"Put a hold on reality for now. Let's start with my clothes. Remember? Makeover."
"Oh yeah, you want a makeover. What are we making over exactly?"
"My image. I need to expound on the power suit."
Cass narrowed her eyes and studied her. Rachel looked out the window, suddenly enthralled by the view.
"What does a power suit have to do with your image?"
"When I dress in power suits, it's like I crawl into this other woman's skin. I have more confidence, more nerve. I treat Derek more professionally, keep him at arm's length. I know it's a stretch, but it's all I've got. Plus I want to be seen as professional. I need to be taken seriously if I'm going to get another job in a man's world."
"The man's world stuff I understand. The keeping Derek at arm's length part is fucked."
"Not for me. Besides, this is a career choice more than anything. Every interview I've gone on in the past couple of months has been lukewarm. I think this could be the key."
Cass sighed. “So much work to do, so little time. Stand up. Over there.” Cass pointed to the middle of the room. Rachel stood and walked to a spot in front of the windows. Cass looked her up and down, circling her and tapping a finger on her chin.
"If I do this, you have to trust me completely. Do what I say, dress the part even in the privacy of your own home."
"I'm not dressing up in my home."
"Yes, you are. It needs to become a part of you, as comfortable as jeans and a T-shirt. Pretend the part and eventually you won't be pretending anymore. You never know when fate will come knocking on your door. Or a hot man with a hard-on."
That high-def image snuck into Rachel's mind again, and she squirmed. Keeping Derek at arm's length involved more than power suits and makeovers, but it'd be a start.
"It's all part of my therapy when I'm doing hair. My clients eat it up,” Cass
"I was asleep."
"It's almost noon."
"That's too fucking early.” Cass scowled at the sun shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Tyler's waterfront condo. “Of all days for it to decide not to rain in Seattle. I've got a mother of a hangover.” She squinted into the sun, then smiled. “Oh yeah, I remember last night now. Me. Tyler. Empty football stadium and bottle of good whiskey. That man can—"
"Cass.” Rachel held up a hand, not interested in traversing that sex-laden path. She'd be too jealous. “I brought you something."
Cass perked up. She could be bought. Easily. “I hope it's diamonds or white gold. I'm partial to white gold."
"Actually it's mocha.” Rachel held the large cup of java out to her friend.
Cass latched on to it and sucked it down. “As good as an orgasm. Well, almost. Tyler is a naughty, naughty boy with a deviant streak."
"I so do not want to hear this.” Rachel plopped onto the overstuffed, beige leather chair. Her own sex-starved brain flashed to a high-def image of a shirtless Derek, his sweat-dampened body glistening in the afternoon sun.
"Let me paint a picture for you."
"I'd rather be left in suspense.” Rachel groaned.
"Not a freaking chance in Hades. You wake me up, you pay. Last night and into the early hours, I roughed the passer and was penalized, and can that man penalize! The Ty-man ran several touchdown plays of his own. I'll never look at the three-hundred level of Jacks Stadium in the same way."
"You did it in the stadium?"
"In several different positions."
"I've heard enough.” Rachel held her hands over her ears.
"You ever imagined doing it in a stadium?"
"No, I haven't. I barely imagine it on a bed."
"Honey, you need to expand your horizons."
"Let's expand one thing at a time."
"We could start with your ancient views on sex. Sex doesn't need to be forever. It needs to be right now, hot, sweaty, nasty, and daring. Live in the moment. If it's good enough, the guys keep coming back for more. End of story. Love is a myth. Screwing is the reality."
"Put a hold on reality for now. Let's start with my clothes. Remember? Makeover."
"Oh yeah, you want a makeover. What are we making over exactly?"
"My image. I need to expound on the power suit."
Cass narrowed her eyes and studied her. Rachel looked out the window, suddenly enthralled by the view.
"What does a power suit have to do with your image?"
"When I dress in power suits, it's like I crawl into this other woman's skin. I have more confidence, more nerve. I treat Derek more professionally, keep him at arm's length. I know it's a stretch, but it's all I've got. Plus I want to be seen as professional. I need to be taken seriously if I'm going to get another job in a man's world."
"The man's world stuff I understand. The keeping Derek at arm's length part is fucked."
"Not for me. Besides, this is a career choice more than anything. Every interview I've gone on in the past couple of months has been lukewarm. I think this could be the key."
Cass sighed. “So much work to do, so little time. Stand up. Over there.” Cass pointed to the middle of the room. Rachel stood and walked to a spot in front of the windows. Cass looked her up and down, circling her and tapping a finger on her chin.
"If I do this, you have to trust me completely. Do what I say, dress the part even in the privacy of your own home."
"I'm not dressing up in my home."
"Yes, you are. It needs to become a part of you, as comfortable as jeans and a T-shirt. Pretend the part and eventually you won't be pretending anymore. You never know when fate will come knocking on your door. Or a hot man with a hard-on."
That high-def image snuck into Rachel's mind again, and she squirmed. Keeping Derek at arm's length involved more than power suits and makeovers, but it'd be a start.
"It's all part of my therapy when I'm doing hair. My clients eat it up,” Cass
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