Please note: (18+) This story includes adult content that may not be suitable for younger readers.》


~Five Years Later~


"Have you seen my calendar?"

I lean around my computer monitor, my feet propped up on the desk with my keyboard balanced precariously across my lap, and I tilt my head to look at Remy as she shows me her personal date book.

It's been five years, but I swear everytime I hear the word calendar, he pops right into my head. My hand instinctively goes to my throat, feeling for the familiar weight of gold as I look over her date book. Realizing what I'm doing, I drop my hand and blink, pushing the mere thoughts of my ghostly past into the recesses of my mind. "Geeze, do you even know what free time is?" I ask, not seeing a single afternoon left blank.

Remy chuckles and snaps the book shut. "Thought that would get your attention."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the grung from my lunch break workout. "Uh, I need a vacation."

"What you need is to get out of that apartment and live a little. Your going to turn into a cat lady if you keep spending all your time with that furball you love so much," Remy says, opening her cosmetics bag and popping open a hand sized mirror to check her makeup.

"That furball cost me four grand when I found her tied up in a trashbag outside the mini mart," I remind her for millionth time.

"I still can't believe you decided to keep her. I mean she's beautiful, no doubt, but your more worried about her than your own kitty cat," Remy says and applies more lip gloss to her pouty lips, smacking them dramatically as she glances at me. "Why don't you come out tonight? It's girls night at the club, two dollar drinks, and let me tell you... the bartender is a god."

I roll my eyes and laugh as she tosses her makeup back into her bag. "Yeah, I'm sure he is, but isn't it a strip club?" I ask, serious.

Remy smiles, showing her pretty teeth. "I wouldn't be going if the men didn't dance too. You should see-

"Nope, nope! I'm done listening to you," I laugh, pretending to put my fingers in my ears, knowing what she's already about to say.

Remy shakes her head, swatting a playful hand out toward my elbow closest to her. "Will you stop? I mean, seriously. What is it going to hurt? Just come out, have some fun, and quit living like a damned nun."

I sigh, dropping my hands to my jean clad thighs, careful not to upend my keyboard. "I'm not a nun."

"Could have fooled me. When was the last time that cat got attention, hm?

"Are you serious right now?" I ask, feigning embarrassment. We've had this discussion many times. Remy knows I'm an offical virgin and insists I need to just find some random and get it over with, but I'm... never intrested. "We still have the Delorne account to finish and not to mention Mr. Kristopher is waiting for you to update him on the Sikes proposal. We're going to be here until eight as it is."

Remy rolls her dark eyes heavenward as she huffs a breath. "Oh, my God. Speak of the devil and he shall appear," she whispers to the ceiling and slaps her mirror back into her bag before dropping the whole thing into her bottom desk draw and covertly closing it with the toe of her red bottom stiletto.

I drop my feet, slipping my tennis shoes back on quickly as I arrange my keyboad back on the desk. It's been a year, that Remy and I found ourselves both employed by Kristopher and Sons, a mid-level accounting firm that handles corporate accounts, personal investments, and risk...