A/N Another short chapter, but, since I didn't post anything last night before I went to bed, I wanted to get this up, and then I'll post again before I go to bed tonight. Thank you for all the wonderful well wishes for my son's health, it's appreciated!! Also, considering what happened at the tale end of Chapter 4, I just wanted to take a moment and say how inspired I was by a wonderful girl from my own home town. I live in SLC, and yesterday, for the first time she her abduction 7 year ago, Elizabeth Smart took the stand and spoke out about what Brian David Mitchell did to her. She's taking control of her own destiny, and not letting a sick, twisted, perverted man ruin her entire life for his own lustful purposes. She kicks butt!! Without further ado....take a peak inside Eric's mind. Enjoy!

EPOV

I watched Quinn and Miss Stackhouse leave the courtyard and head towards her office. It was easy to see she was fuming mad. I wasn't positive what it was all about, but, I figured it had something to do with Quinn calling her 'babe.' I mean, come on, doesn't he realize how absolutely inappropriate that is? Even if they are dating, he shouldn't be addressing her that way while they're at work. I truly hope they're not dating, though. Judging from first impressions, the guy's just an ass. He walks with this stupid little swagger, almost as if he's trying to be impressive. It just makes him look like he's got a coat hanger stuck up his ass. A guy with that type of attitude probably has no knowledge of how to please a real woman. And, judging by the way her hips sway when she walks, Miss Stackhouse is most definitely a real woman. I'd been all in favor of watching her eat all night, just to see if that tight blouse could continue to contain her lovely breasts.

I must have been enjoying imaging her curves without any clothing on a little too much, because I suddenly found myself standing outside her office, listening to her rip Quinn a new one. And, as always, I was right. The asshole didn't realize how inappropriately he'd been acting towards her while on the job. I was seriously considering ripping the door open and throttling him when I heard him call her a bitch, but, held back, stifling a laugh when I heard him refer to me as 'Mr. Tall, Handsome and Deadly.' What a moron.

Just then, the door swung open, and there I was, face to face with Mr. Asshole Extraordinaire himself. He muttered something under his breath, and walked away. Now that I had a clear view of Miss Stackhouse, I could see that she was even more infuriated than I'd expected. I said something about interrupting, and she called me on my attitude, so I knew it was time to reign it in and act like an adult again. She asked what I was there for, and I panicked. Shit. I can't say 'oh, I was wandering around daydreaming about how much I'd like to fuck you up against the table in the courtyard and found myself at your door,' no matter how true it was. I added a token amount of charm to my voice, and asked if I could come in, and made sure she was alright while stalling, trying to come up with a good enough reason for why I was there.

I found myself falling easily into conversation with her. Under different circumstances, I could see myself pursuing this woman. At the very least, she was definitely someone I'd like to have the honor of calling my friend. And, with the past few years of my life being what they were, I could use a good friend or two. When she told me of the death of her cousin, I was stunned speechless. I suddenly understood why she took her job so seriously. If she said someone was ready for parole, and they weren't, she would feel the weight of any crimes they committed as if they were her own.

"What ever happened to her uncle?" If the man was still alive, I'd considering breaking parole and going after him myself.

"Oh, he was arrested and found guilty of murder. And then he found out first hand why pedophiles aren't normally put into general population in prisons." Oh yes. There are all sorts of terrible people in prison, but someone who has sexually hurt a child, they rarely survive their incarceration. "Needless to say, he wasn't alive long after his trial."

I had felt the tension building in our conversations today several times, but it was always eased away somehow. I had no idea how to accomplish that at this moment. The air felt charged. Just as I was thinking about what to say to change the mood, Miss Stackhouse spoke up, and did it for me.

"Well, I guess it's my turn, now. What made you decide to open a bar?"

"Well, when we were all living down in New Orleans, every once in a while, Cindy, Pam and I would leave Lizzie with a babysitter, and go to this really great club that was kind of like a locals-only establishment. I don't even think it really had a name. They didn't want to attract the tourists. After we moved to the Shreveport area, we missed that little place quite a bit. I decided it was something I would pursue, so, I got a loan from the bank, bought the property, and Pam and I started getting things set up. She didn't actually end up buying into it for a while, because she said she wanted to make sure it was going to be a good investment first. I didn't blame her for holding out that long, though. She had to do what was best for her."

"Well, if it's stayed open as long as it has, I'm assuming it ended up being a good investment?"

"Absolutely. Pam and I actually make really good business partners. She always picks up what I'm missing, and vice versa." Our conversation was briefly interrupted when her phone rang. I could easily tell that she was on the phone with either Quinn or the other on-duty case worker, and they were filling her in on security check. After she hung up, I asked, "So, how long have you and Quinn been dating?"

She looked like she couldn't decide whether or not to answer, but finally said, "Almost five months. I met him when Sam brought me here to give him a little tour of the place. He can be a lot of fun, but, I'm starting to think that we'd be better suited just as friends." I tried to ignore the tiny spark of excitement that I felt when she told me this.

We continued our back and forth question and answer session for a few more hours. She asked me all sorts of questions about growing up in Sweden, and I asked her about her own childhood here in Louisiana. It honestly amazed me how easy it was for me to talk to her. I hadn't found it this easy to talk to someone since I'd lost my wife.

Eventually, she yawned loudly and looked down at her watch. "Wow, I can't believe it's almost 3am already! I'd better let you go get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow."

"Oh, do I? That's news to me." I honestly had no clue what she was talking about.

"Yup, you'll need to meet Barry, and we'll need to sit down and chart out some weekly and monthly goals for you to be working on. Also, we need to get things set as far as a job is concerned. If I get can Sam to approve it, would you like to get back to working at your bar, during the daytime? I'm not sure if he'll approve it or not, because it's definitely somewhere that you can easily access alcohol. But, I personally don't think it would be a problem. Usually Sam trusts my judgment on these sorts of things, but I'll have to run it by him all the same."

"Yeah, that'd probably be good. I wouldn't mind getting caught up on what Pam's been doing with the place."

"Well, assuming Sam approves it, I'll have to go out there and check it out, and get some information for my records. And I will also eventually need to meet Pam and go over some ground rules with her about what you are or aren't allowed to be doing, or be around." She stood and opened the office door, and I took that as my queue to leave. I told her goodnight, and as I went past her, I felt my arm brush ever so gently across her breast. I was glad she was behind me after that, because I was sporting major wood. If I didn't do something to end my sexual frustrations soon, I'd pounce on her. And, as much as I know I'd enjoy a little rough tumble with her, I don't think that'd be the right thing to do. No, she deserves to have her body worshipped, and, with as long as it's been for me, there was no way I'd be able to last long enough to do that.

I went back to my room and got a few toiletries together and headed to take a shower. It felt strange being in a shower stall, after being so used to the large communal showers that I'd been forced to use at the prison. I knew that making this transition was going to be harder than I'd expected. I'd wanted my freedom so badly, I thought I'd be able to dive right in and get right back into the thick of things. But, I was slowly starting to realize that the little things were what was going to make this hard. I took advantage of the privacy of the shower to relieve the aching tension I felt in my groin. And, for the first time since her death, it wasn't my wife's name I called out when I found my release.