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My client had been practicing Tai Chi before I interrupted him, and he wore only white gauze pants – loose, comfortable, and so diaphanous in the hot Texas sun that I knew he wore nothing beneath them. His smoothly shaved chest glistened with a perspiration sheen and his muscles flowed under his sun-bronzed skin with a fluid grace as he closed the distance between us.
Jeremy carried two tumblers half full of Jack rocks, placed one on the patio table before me, and settled into the chair opposite mine. Then he leaned forward. Piercing blue eyes captured my attention, just as they had the day we’d first met in my office downtown. He wore his wheat-blond hair long, parted in the centre, and tucked behind his ears. A lock of hair slipped from behind his left ear and curled around the corner of his mouth, like a close parenthesis to the sensual expression of his full lips.
‘He doesn’t love me any more,’ my client said. ‘I’m not sure he ever did.’
I sipped from my tumbler, the Jack burning its way down the back of my throat. ‘Do you love him?’
Jeremy looked away, his gaze taking in the neatly manicured lawn, the blooming bluebonnets growing along the back fence, and the new Lexus parked in the rear drive. He returned his attention to me, wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, and said, ‘I love this.’
I felt my body react to my client’s presence, the crotch of my pants growing uncomfortably tight, sweat beading on my upper lip, and my pulse quickening. I took another sip from the tumbler. The ice had nearly melted and the Jack felt warm in my throat, warmer still when it reached the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t eaten since the previous night, and then only a bean burrito I had left over from the day before.
My client watched my face and waited.