1.

Sarah walked out of the office, her head raised high and her feet on a straight march out of the building. She needed to get away so fast, to cry tears that were threatening to pour down.

When she got into a cab, she let out a choked sob that had the driver glancing back at her with concern etched in every line of his face.

"I'm fine, just drive please." She said to him, while trying to compose herself and not cause more embarrassment to her already embarrassed self. Not that the driver looked disgusted though, because he looked into his glove compartment and handed her a box of tissues.

He must see blubbering females with swollen eyes and trembling lips like me every day, she silently mused.

How could she had gotten herself into this mess? And what was it about Handel that shook her to the very core? She had been with other men before him, flings and short term relationships that had ended mutually. Most times, she had remained good friends with them and their new partners.

Why was it that she could not bear to cut things off with Handel even when she caught him cheating on her? And to make things worse, she had gone to his office and tried to beg him to stay with her and forgive her for lashing out at him.

Thank goodness he had told his secretary after she had waited for an hour to give her his apologies that he would not be able to see her today. She would have bet her whole life savings that she would have pleaded so hard, her remaining dignity would be shreds by now. She had to be grateful for small mercies.

She stepped off the cab and turned to go when the cab driver called out to her.

"Miss"

She looked at him, impatience clearly written in her eyes. All she wanted to do was go in, take out her comfort food, curl in front of the TV and watch a romcom, tears pouring down her eyes as she silently cursed the day she had met Handel.

''He does not deserve you, miss". The driver said "Any man who would make a lady cry so hard doesn't deserve her. So, try to forget about him". He concluded and drove off.

Inside her house, Sarah thought about the cab driver's words. But how do you forget a man who made you feel all the right things in all the right places? Handel had taken her to depths she had never known existed before, he had schooled her in various things she fell short and brought her up to par. How do you forget or let go of the only person you've ever loved? How does one do something like that?

All her former relationships had been based on a need for companionship, average sex and well, similar interests. But with Handel, she had experienced this thrill, this intensity and they weren't even alike! Handel had a cool exterior and a persona that made most people cower. Yet, deep within was a volcano that most people never saw but she had seen it. In the past one year of their relationship she had seen it, and oh, how much she loved it when the lava burned her.

She, wasn't a social person but she smiled a lot and talked a lot sometimes. She could blend in, be invisible or stand out. But Handel stood out wherever they went like a rose among wilting sunflowers. He was so confident and strong while she was a blubbering mess in need of validation. How then did they last a year together? And why did her heart break at the thought of never sleeping beside him again? How would she face her friends and tell them that they were right? That when they told her to enjoy it while it lasts, she should have believed them?

Oh, how she wished she had never met him, she thought and cried into her pillow as she laid curled up on a sofa. How she wished she had never gone for that art exhibition.

Her friend was an artist who was involved in erotica arts. She painted nude and nearly nude bodies either in the act of copulation, mere seduction, submission or exhibitionism. Her friend, Julia was also a sex therapist. It had been Julia's first art show and she hadn't wanted to disappoint her so she accepted the invitation and had also worn the slinky, fitting, red gown Julia had begged her to wear.

She had been standing at a corner, trying to avoid the crowd while looking at one of the paintings. It was named, the sinful seductress, and it showed a woman wearing a red gown that had been hiked up far above her thighs as she laid down on a four poster bed, hands spread, hair tousled and a round, sinfully red mouth slightly open that seemed to beckon on to her lover.

It was in that same place that Handel's gaze had wandered and landed on her. One look at her and his breath had caught in his throat. God, she was stunning. Her mouth was slightly parted and he had the sudden urge to run his finger across her bottom lip. When she drew that lip into her mouth he had to bite back a groan.

How could she not know that standing in front of an erotic painting wearing sinful red that hugged her in all the right places did wicked things to warm, primitive blooded men like him? By Jove, all he wanted to do in that moment was explore all the hidden places beneath her gown.

But he schooled himself and walked up to her with a champagne flute in his hand.

"A penny for your wondering thoughts" he asked with a smile.

She turned to him and he had to stifle another groan. Her eyes had widened as thought she was a deer caught by the headlights of his car. How those eyes would look when he finally slipped into... he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Now was not the time, he had to be a gentleman first even if the tiger within him leaped in bounds.

"I should hope my thoughts are far more expensive" she replied when she had composed herself and he slightly chuckled. So, beauty had wits too, he mused.

He stretched out his hand. "I'm Handel"

When she did not shake his hand, he was slightly confused. Was beauty averse to personal contact? And then she murmured a brief "I'm sorry, I have to go" without so much of a name leaving him even more confused than he had ever been.

Who was she and why had she captivated him so? He watched her make her exit to the balcony in a hurry but he noticed one thing that made his blood stir even more. She had no partner or man with her which meant she was either single or the man in her life wasn't important.

If that was the case, he thought with a smug smile, then his sheets had better be ready for some rumpling.

She was his for the night.