I step out of the building and make my way to the car. From the moment my black three inch heels meet asphalt, I am no longer:

Isabella Swan,
Executive Assistance to Irina Denali

but am now:

Bella,
Shackle-free to do what I please on my own time

Because let's face it, working in the corporate world is demanding—especially when working for Irina. It's not so bad except I feel chained to my desk waiting for her next order of business that makes absolutely no sense.

"Bella, I need 5 copies of this." Really? I just made you 15 copies yesterday of this same document.

"Bella, make sure Dan's assistant has reserved the room and requested the correct table arrangements this time." As your assistant, would it make more sense for me to do that since he always screws up?

"Bella, go get me a coffee. Four creams, two sugars, and a hint of cinnamon. Don't forget to use Splenda." I have gotten your coffee the same way every time since you started two weeks ago. I think I know your preference by now.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see her climb into her fancy Z4 Black BMW. She can be nice when she wants to be—this afternoon for example.

I climb into my Honda Accord and drive home to an empty house. No one is there to greet me, unlike my boss, who has her nieces and nephews waiting for her arrival.

Whatever.

I don't need her pity, and I certainly don't need to think about what she might be doing right now. I have more important things to think about. Like... the man of my dreams.

Once home, I drop my keys into the bowl by the door. My feet hurt from all the running around I did today for Irina. Instinctively I reach down and take one shoe off then another as I slump onto the couch. Attention is given to my calves as I rub them leading down to my feet. Oh, how I wish someone could do this for me.

Glancing at my watch, it's time to get ready for my night out. Can I really do this? Up until now, I thought I could. But this is my first time meeting someone at the bar. I've never been this forward or even this bold to meet someone and then end up in their bed. But I can do this. I think.

I recently decided my sex life needed a little spicing up. I could consider it a New Year's resolution. Hopefully trying this will make things easier. Maybe it won't, but I have to at least try something.

A typical day for me is to wake up, go to work, come home, fix dinner, and piddle around the house. I am tired of the monotonous old me. I want something exciting. And apparently this is the way to go.

Or so Alice says.

I am distracted by a call from Jessica, my high school best friend. She wanted to tell me the news in person, but couldn't contain her excitement any longer.

"I'm pregnant!" she says.

I grip the phone tighter. "Congratulations!" I hope my voice doesn't deceive me. She told me she just reached her second trimester. Both she and her husband felt comfortable announcing their newfound joy. She talks about the pregnancy while I try to sound positive and excited.

After ending the call, and recalling how excited and happy she is, I have faith that tonight will be fun and hopefully lead to what I want. Sitting here on the couch certainly won't get me a good lay. I get up and walk upstairs towards my bedroom.

Standing in my closet my stomach deceives me. The butterflies fluttering intermittently all day take full flight—flapping furiously—tamping down any excitement I might feel. I know the plan, but can I follow through? Reaching for the dress, I carry it to the bed. My eyes fall on the top drawer of my nightstand, knowing what hides inside. With that thought I almost back out, surrendering to the simplicity of pleasuring myself, but my rabbit friend certainly won't get me what I truly want—what my body, and truthfully my heart, craves.

Slipping into my dress I stare at my reflection. This just looks too daring for me. Black. Sleeveless. Plunging neckline. Knee length. Pretty, yet very revealing. And not a typical outfit for my evenings out.

Reaching into my makeup bag, I begin to transform my face. A little foundation. Deep, dark, colored eye shadow. Rich looking lashes. Grabbing my lipstick, I roll it over my lips making them appear luscious and plump. Kissable.

Seeing my reflection in the mirror, I make a pouty face, followed by a dramatic kiss, I look... seductive. Will the men notice? Can I really allow complete strangers to approach and talk to me? Do I really want them to? I glance again at my nightstand drawer. But that won't solve anything. The point of dressing like this is not to crawl back into bed. I need to go out.

Perhaps I should call Alice. She might give me a little motivation to follow through. I grab my phone and locate her number. But, then I think it through. If I call her, I will have to confess that I actually listened to her suggestion—one I think she meant more as a joke, but I chose to make it a reality. No, I can't call her. I just need to leave. In the grand scheme of things, this is all about me. I need this.

The time has come. I take one final look at my image before grabbing my keys and head out the door.

I can do this.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Sentence teaser for next chapter: I see his eyes glance down, perhaps to where my cleavage is highly visible.

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