Synopsis: Bonnie, a sex columnist for a New York paper has to write a titillating article about Anonymous sex in Manhattan. Enter sexy, enticing billionaire Kol Mikaelson for a risqué education in all things impersonal.

Rating: T-M

..

"Your olive looks lonely"

Someone breathed against her neck eliciting a shiver as she spun around to snap at him. The words died in her mouth the moment she saw him, her challenge forgotten. Bonnie stiffened mouth slack as his lips curved into a slow, lazy smile. For some unknown reason her eyes remained there, fixed to luscious mouth. She caught a glimpse of his tongue as he spoke again and had to shake her head to rid her mind of the obscene thoughts she was now having about his tongue. A tongue she'd only met twenty seconds ago.

"Care for a refill, darling?" he drawled, dragging his gaze to her face, her wild green eyes, the slope of her nose until they settled on her lips. They hovered there for a while, waiting for her response.

"Uhmm…I'm waiting for someone" she muttered, raking a hand through her hair. Her eyes were still locked to his mouth, watching it intently, the way he mouthed his words, his white teeth and that flicker of tongue as he spoke. It was his English accent, she thought shifting on her barstool. That's the only reason she was staring at his mouth like that, it was that ridiculously seductive English brogue.

"Lucky someone" he grinned, settling onto a bar stool next to her, "They must be important, you look nervous" he added with her wink and a strange heat rippled through her.

"And you're still here? Look Mr.-"she pursed her lips, eyes narrowed as they began to scan the rest of his face. She noticed his ruffled dirty blonde hair, careful enough to steer away from his whiskey colored eyes. Caroline, her bestfriend would have called his eyes the Bermuda triangle for all Manhattan women.

"Fetish 101"

"What?" she shook her head, trying very hard to focus on whatever he was trying to say.

"I'm Fetish 101" he repeated and her pulse hastened faster than you can say .

"Oh, uhm…I'm sorry" Bonnies eyes widened as she recognized his screen name"…uhm…you said you'd be wearing a white tee-shirt and…"

"I figure why look like every other dick in New York, don't worry though, my briefs are white" he leaned in, eyes locked into hers. "Is that your thing, white?" he smirked, his eyes dragging down to her breasts in appraisal of her white body-con dress.

"Are you trying to say that I've got a stick up my arse?"

"I love how you say arse, "his eyes glittered with excitement" and no, I wouldn't dare say such a thing. I hardly know you, not yet"

Unable to draw her eyes away from his gaze, she tilted her head back as her hand searched for her empty glass.

"First time jitters or you're just admiring the chandelier?"

"Yes, that's it. First time jitters" she quickly assured him, her eyes darting around the crowded bar.

"What're you drinking?" he asked, beckoning for the bartender.

"Dirty martini" she told the burly barman. As she watched him retrieve a fresh bottle of London gin from the wall to wall bottles behind the bar, she wondered if tonight had been a good idea. Sure she was conducting research for her column on anonymous sex but she could've just googled the damn thing. It would've saved her an embarrassing evening.

"What's your kink? "Fetish 101's voice broke her from spell as she jerked her head toward him.

"I beg your-?"

"Asphyxiation?" he raised an eyebrow as he pulled her chiffon scarf free from around her neck weaving it between his long fingers. She stared, eyes flitting to the scarf and then back at him. She wondered what he was going to do with her scarf, she liked that scarf and she had sweated to get it. Sales at Bergdorf were no joke and every New York female knew that.

"Water sports?" he continued, slowly slipping her scarf between his fingers "Maybe you like being spanked" one corner of his mouth edged upward and her heart fluttered. Jerking up from her torrent of lust, she looked up as the barman placed their drinks in front of them. She swiftly picked up her murky glass of martini and raised it to her hungry lips. He seemed less keen on his bourbon as he studied the glass and its contents.

"How about voyeurism? You like watching don't you?" he asked, watching her over the rim of his glass. "Or maybe you like being watched?" he grazed his bottom lip with his teeth as he placed the glass back on the marble counter. A wave of heat surged through her and she pressed her lips tightly together to stifle whatever groan would crawl out from her parched throat. The martini wasn't working.

"Do we have to do this here, now?" she finally said or rather whispered as if people could hear the torrid conversation over the music.

"Would you rather we talk dirty later…after we've fuc-?" his voice was low and husky, just the right ingredients to harden her nipples.

"No" she cried slapping his thigh but swiftly removed her hand when she realized what she was holding. Christ, even his thighs were rock hard and warm beneath his sleek black Tom Ford pant suit. Bonnie imagined her legs twined with his, entangled between damp cotton sheets.

"We're building a circle of trust here Bonnie" he smiled sweetly, placing his warm hand over hers.

"Well it's rather unnerving" she said shakily, taking another gulp of her drink.

"I like my cocktail served with a side of profanity, how about you?" he leaned in to slip her scarf back around her neck and his calloused fingers briefly brushed against her neck, prickling her flesh.

"How abut we talk about uhm…the weather? "Anxiously, she dipped her finger into her drink and licked it.

"This is the part where I pay the bill and we head back to my place"

"For what exactly?" she gulped, perfectly aware of what could be in store for her.

"For an education in profanity" he smiled, taking out his wallet and slipping out his black card. Sliding his card across to the barman, he eyed her over his glass then set it back down on the counter. Bonnie poised her lips over her own glass, it was now or never.

The article wasn't about to write itself after all.