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Rating: M for mature situations and language. Don't read this if you are not of age.

Because the night...

Chapter 3: the relapse

Blair sits at a table in the middle of the bar, surrounded by a group of investment banker types all flirting with her and laughing at her witty commentary. And she is witty and she is charming and she is perfect. She is the apple of the Big Apple's eye tonight. But, being the queen of New York is filled with irony. Even though she is filthy rich, drinks and gifts appear out of nowhere, she never pays for anything. Even though she is successful, gorgeous, and magnetic, at the end of the day, she is still alone.

She won't think about that now, because she is not alone right now. She is the night's darling, and she is shining in her element.

He watches from a corner of the bar. He hasn't seen or talked to her since that last night they've spent together, now about 120 hours. This is probably the longest he has gone without touching her in three years. She looks more beautiful than he remembers. Her hair seems longer, darker, wavier. He can imagine the texture of it in his mouth as he kisses down her back. She appears softer, even though he knows there is nothing soft about her. Everything is rough and hard and sex. Every time she flips her head back in a fit of giggles, he is reminded that she used to laugh at his flirtations that way. Every time she lifts the beer to her lips (she drinks beer to be on an even playing field as the men she drinks with, no girly drinks here), he imagines those lips on his body. He just drinks and drinks; maybe the alcohol will blur his vision so he won't have to see her clearly anymore.

His friends notice that he is distracted, but they think that it is because he is getting married in a little over a week. They continue to mess with him with verbal jabs, but he lets it all go. He doesn't have any room in his mind to think about anything else right now; at least not while she is here in his vicinity. They don't see the girl who has captured all of his attention since strutting into the bar in her sinfully short canary yellow tank dress, immediately getting hit on by several men.

Blair is having a great time. Such a great time that she had almost forgotten how much her heart aches. Almost. The setting is PJ Clarke's, the supporting cast is a bunch of hedge fund managers from JP Morgan, and she is the center of attention. This is the way things are supposed to be. Except that she still feels like something, or yet someone is missing.

Someone sits down next to her, she barely takes notice until she notices that he doesn't talk to her. This is new. He looks at her, and nods to acknowledge that she is there, but he does not actually speak to her, instead focusing his conversation on some of the other guys at the table. He is cute, probably half asian, kind of pale, and so not her usual type. He's wearing a baby blue Lacoste shirt, jeans and a pair of boat shoes. Missing is a ring on his finger. He talks about economics and how bank stocks are dropping, but manages to be funny at the same time. She can't quite hear him, but she wishes she can.

She can't help herself, but she is staring at him. The chair makes an ugly scratching sound against the dirty floor as she scoots herself closer to him. He still has not spoken to her. This does not happen, at least not to her. She reaches out and touches his arm, and he looks back at her.

"Hi, I'm Blair." She has never introduced herself to a man. She has never had to.

"Hi Blair." He turns back to his companions, and she is momentarily shocked. She taps him on the shoulder again.

"And you are?" He turns again, looking semi-annoyed. She notices the small wrinkles etched into his brow.

"Jim, hi." He returns to his previous thought and as he pauses in mid-sentence, she interrupts.

"You're correct about the banks dropping to an all time low, but actually, it is the best time to buy those stocks because you'll make a killing when things rise back up, and they will. It's just a matter of time. And if you were smart and you shored your money, you'd be making a whole shit ton of excess interest. Really though, the gold market is where the money is...because unfortunately the dollar is like literally giong to be worthless in this economy."

He smiles, now intrigued that this girl who is so not his type is talking business and finance, and talking it well. He thought she was just some money grubbing skank who wandered over at the smell of French cuffs and custom made suits. "You're right about that." He looks at her brilliant blue eyes that dance in triumph and realizes that this girl is much more complicated than he first judged. That would be an understatement.

"Well, I'm always right. I'm Miss Right," she flirts, setting her arm close to his on the table. The other men at the table sigh, they've tried so hard and now they've got no chance.

"Well, Miss Right, can I buy you another drink?" She accepts and he gestures to the bar and she walks up there with him. He is only a few inches taller than she is in heels, but she likes that she can look directly into his light green eyes. She feels like she can trust him more this way.

Nate stares at her from across the bar, as some guy is excitedly chatting her up. He feels bad for the guy; he is not Blair's type. He waits for her to blow him off, but she looks oddly enthralled and intrigued. It's a look that he hasn't seen since they dated in high school. A look that signifies something new and exciting. He witnesses their entire exchange, and a pit forms at the bottom of his stomach when he realizes that Blair is the pursuer. He doesn't know why though. This guy is definitely not her type. He is her type.

Blair laughs at something Jim has said and for the first time, she is enjoying herself with someone who is not named Nate. Jim regrets having to leave this amazing girl, the first amazing girl he has met since moving to New York City from Northern California, but he must break away since he has a bunch of briefs to read before going to court in the morning. He is an attorney at a big firm; actually, it is the same firm her father used to be partner of before he moved to France. She puts her number into his phone and he promises to call her "to chat about the state of economics." She hopes he will call. She actually wants him to call because she needs a distraction.

He calls as soon as he walks out of the restaurant and she realizes she hasn't smiled at a man like that since Nate. This is the first step in recovery.

She breaks away from her group to go freshen up. She can forget about Nate if she continues to have nights out like this. Every guy has their attention on her, every man wants to be with her tonight. Including one that she actually wants to be with. She checks herself in her compact as she waits in the line that is trailing out the door to the ladies' room. She does not notice that he has cut through the crowd to get to her.

He reaches from behind her and pulls her to him, whispering into her ear, "Hi beautiful, did you miss me? Or have you found another replacement already?" She smells the Jack on his breath, and she knows who it is even before he speaks. She knows his touch by now.

Her lips curl into a sensual smile as she grinds herself against him, feeling him hard against her backside. "Why, are you feeling threatened?" She slips a hand behind her and into the waistband on his slacks, finding what she is looking for and grabbing it, jerking it about, feeling the warmth dissipate from his core.

"Uhhh…I'm not really feeling anything right now…God, that's good…" he says as he draws in a quick gasp. He kisses her neck, and she's not sure if it is the alcohol or the feeling of his hot breath on her skin, but she starts to feel like the room is spinning. He has the worst timing, but he is here and she is horny.

"Baby, you know that no one can take your place." The strap of her dress is falling down as he starts to unzip her, before she turns around and pushes him out the back exit. Suddenly, they are in an alley, and he has her against the brick wall. It is dark, and the air is heavy and stinks of old garbage, but it doesn't matter because he is here, and he is moving her dress up. She is kissing him and unzipping his pants and then he is inside her, and they are fucking in this alley in New York City.

He thrusts up against her, leaving scratches on her back from the brick wall. His hands are threading through her hair, feeling the curls through his fingers. His forehead is on hers as they are staring into each other's eyes, their chests heaving up and down. They are trying to be as silent as possible, but it is almost impossible as they come together in the buzzing night.

He starts to say something, but she places a finger against his lips to shush him. He readjusts the straps to her dress and zips her back up. She fixes her hair and reapplies her smeared makeup. He zips himself up and although they are both sweaty and exhausted, they both head into the bar and act as if nothing has happened.

Blair heads back to the table, where most of her companions have already left. The ones that are left immediately focus on her, none the wiser to what has just taken place even though she must smell like him, and her hair is probably a mess. She sits down, but she doesn't feel like talking to them when she can see him in the corner of her eye, laughing with his friends. He winks at her. And with that look, she has fallen off the wagon back into the pit of dependency.

Everything is so easy for him, but doesn't he know that he is making it so much harder for her?