This is probably a bad idea. Maggie stood on the terrace of Michael’s apartment looking out over the city. It looked magical after dark, all dotted with twinkling lights. Even the traffic sounds were muted from this height. Lost in thought as she was, Michael’s voice startled her. 

“That’s better. Can I get you something?” 

She turned to see that he’d exchanged his suit for jeans and a faded forest green t-shirt. His feet were bare. “Come on in, I’ll pour you something.” 

Wordlessly, she followed him back inside the apartment. Baseball was playing on the huge flat-screen television; the sound was low. Michael turned to her. “Relax,” he said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “We’re not at work anymore.” 

He continued on to the bar. Maggie stopped by the kitchen counter where she’d dropped her purse, stepping out of her black pumps and removing the jacket of her black skirt suit, folding it carefully and laying it over the back of the couch. 

She felt vaguely uncomfortable and rubbed her arms, now bare in her sleeveless grey chiffon blouse, as she crossed the room to the bar. Michael was behind the sleek black counter, his back turned, so she sat on one of the ultra-modern black bar stools, tucking her feet carefully onto the footrest as she noticed the mirrored front of the bar. He was reaching into the glass-fronted oak cabinet that complimented the apartment’s light hardwood floor. From this vantage point, she could appreciate the way his shirt hugged his torso, the contours of his shoulders and back evident as he moved. 

Focus, Maggie. She cleared her throat. “This really is a beautiful apartment.” He glanced over his shoulder. “But not your style,” he quipped, grinning. Maggie blushed. “I like more classical design, of course, but this is very nice,” she said, fidgeting with her bracelet.

Michael turned around and placed two heavy glass tumblers on the counter. Beside the glasses he placed a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve bourbon. Maggie frowned slightly and looked up at him. “This isn’t the same bottle I gave you a few years ago, is it?” 

He grinned. “Yes, it is.” 

She shook her head. “But how...? I mean, why didn’t you drink it?” Her face fell. “You didn’t like it.” 

“Are you kidding? I love this. I only bring it out for special occasions, for people I know will appreciate it.” He poured for them both. “Every year you get me great bourbon, but the year you gave me this?” He lifted the bottle admiringly. “You knocked it out of the park.” He replaced the bottle and walked around the bar to where she sat. On the bar stool she was as tall as Michael. 

Maggie snickered. “Baseball reference.” 

Michael laughed and lifted his glass. “To baseball, especially my Yankees, may they win the pennant!” Maggie laughed and touched her glass to his. 

“And, to friends,” he added, regarding her warmly. 

Maggie sipped quietly, blushing again. She set down her glass and turned to look out the huge wall of windows, fidgeting absently with her bracelet again. 

Michael nodded at her wrist. “Is that the one I gave you?” he asked. 

She looked down, surprised. “It is. I forgot that I had it on. I wear it a lot, actually, but most of the time it’s hidden beneath my sleeves.” She held it out for him to see. “I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned,” she said earnestly. 

Michael took her hand and looked closely at the bracelet, fingering the moonstones and turning it around her wrist. “You should have beautiful things,” he murmured. He lifted her hand and turned it over, gently pressing her palm to his lips. 

Maggie felt her heart pound. She’d had a lot of bourbon. That could explain the rush of heat she felt. It could. She slowly moved her hand to cup his jaw, feeling the prickle of his ever-present five o’clock shadow. His soulful brown eyes drew her like a magnet, as though some invisible force pulled her to him, or him to her, it was hard to tell. 

“Aw, Mags,” he breathed, just before their lips met. Like the handful of other times they’d kissed, the heat was instant, the hunger and desperation, tongues seeking and finding. When he pulled back she was breathless. 

“I should probably go,” she whispered. She slid off the stool and unsteadily stepped away from the bar. Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her to the kitchen counter where she’d left her things. Maggie stopped at the counter, her back to him, and she closed her eyes. 

“I wish...” he began, and stopped. 

Maggie licked her lips, eyes still closed. “What do you wish?” Her voice was husky. 

Michael lightly caressed her upper arms with his fingertips and nuzzled the back of her neck through her long red hair. “I wish you didn’t have to go.” 

Maggie felt her skin prickle with goosebumps, her nipples tighten and extend. She felt a surge of moist heat at the apex of her thighs. Michael brushed aside her hair and streamed tiny kisses down her neck from behind her ear down to her collarbone and as he did, a low whimper escaped her lips. 

Maggie turned slowly. She could see the heat in his eyes and she knew he saw the same reflected in her own. She placed the at of her palms on his chest and dragged them slowly down his body to the hem of his shirt. He felt firm and tight. 

Eyes on his, she moved her hands under the shirt, resting them on his belly and he closed his eyes, groaning slightly. She moved in to kiss the corner of his mouth then traced kisses along the jawline she’d held a moment ago. 

Michael pressed into her, pinning her against the counter and he gripped her hair, gently pulling her face up to meet his. His brown eyes smoldered with desire and he stared into hers brie y before pressing his lips to hers with bruising intensity. 

Maggie moved her hands up to touch his face again, to tangle her fingers in his hair, and she kissed him with matching ferocity. His hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her even closer, his arousal pressing hard against her leg. Slowly he drew his hand up her body to her breast, which he cupped and kneaded, finding her erect nub and giving it extra attention. 

She gasped into his kiss and he broke away from her lips, looking down as he tugged her blouse free from the waist of her skirt and worked the buttons open, exposing her smoke grey lace bra. 

He looked back up at her, a question in his eyes. In response, she pulled up on the hem of his shirt. Michael grinned and wasted no time whipping the green t-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor. Returning his attention to her, he gently traced the lace trim of her bra with his fingers before tugging down the demi-cups, freeing her full, round tits. 

“Holy...” he whispered, burying his face between them, kissing her sternum lightly before covering first one pebble-hard nipple then the other with his mouth, suckling and working them with his tongue. 

Maggie leaned her head back, moaning with pleasure. She could feel moisture begin to slide down her legs. As if he sensed it, Michael moved his hand between her thighs and slid it up to her moist center, caressing her through her panties. 

“Oh, God, Michael,” she gasped. 

There was concern on his face when he looked up. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly. 

Her eyes ew open. “No! Please don’t stop,” she begged. 

Worry was replaced with a seductive smile when he hitched up her skirt and tugged down her panties, kicking aside the grey lace as he lifted her onto the counter. He grinned down at the smooth place where her thighs met, then looked back at her with one eyebrow mischievously cocked. 

In one swift movement, he tossed both of her legs over his shoulders and plunged his mouth onto her sex. Maggie moaned unintelligibly as Michael used his tongue to lap mercilessly at her pink folds. 

Just as she thought she couldn’t last, he stood up and grinned wickedly. Wiping a finger across his lips, he offered it to her. Maggie opened her mouth, tasting her essence, taking his finger into her mouth and sucking it sensuously. 

He used his other hand to work her sex again, this time sliding first one finger into her, then two. As he moved them in and out, he used his thumb to stroke the erect button of her clit as Maggie neared the edge once again. 

She sucked his finger with increasing intensity, as though it was his cock. He brought her closer to her climax and she released his finger as she leaned back her head, eyes closed. 

“Oh, God! Oh, shit! Fuck! Oh, fuck!” she cried. Her whole body convulsed with her release, her juices flooding his hand. 

He slowed his movements as she wound down, laughing gently as he did. “Yes, but did you enjoy it?” he chuckled.