Best Friends' Reckless Cravings

I glanced at my watch, barely noon, and I’d done nothing since Lena vanished. Half-finished emails glared from my monitor, quarterly reports sat untouched, her silence eating at me.

"Mr. Voss, you have a call on line two." My assistant's voice sounded through the intercom.

"Take a message," I snapped, then immediately regretted my tone. I pressed the button again. "Sorry, Megan. Just... take a message."

I checked my phone again. No reply from Lena. I'd sent three more texts since this morning. Each showed as delivered, none as read. I even tried calling twice, but it went straight to voicemail.

My office door opened without a knock, and Sam Carter strolled in with his usual casual confidence.

"Hey, boss, got a minute? I need to discuss the Morrison account—"

"Do you know how to knock?" I cut him off. I never socialize with my employees, but because I have one as my best friend, I allow her "work friends" drop formalities. Right now, Sam was just crossing a line. Even Lena knocks before entering.

He blinked, surprised. "Sorry, I thought—"

"You thought wrong." I stood, straightening papers I hadn't even looked at. "If it's not urgent, it can wait until tomorrow."

"It's just that the deadline is—"

"I said tomorrow." My voice rose, and I noticed Megan peering through the glass walls, concern written across her face.

Sam's expression shifted to wariness. "Sure thing. Tomorrow." He backed toward the door. "By the way, you seen Lena today? She was supposed to help with the client presentation, and—"

"Get out!" The words came out as a growl.

Sam raised his hands in surrender and quickly exited. I sank back onto my chair, dragging my hands down my face.

At one o'clock, I grabbed my coat.

"Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day," I told Megan on my way out. "Family emergency."

I drove to Lena's apartment first. Her building was quiet since most residents were at work. I pressed the buzzer for her unit repeatedly.

No answer.

I tried calling her cell phone again while standing there, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Sir, can I help you?" The doorman approached, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm here for Lena Martinez. I'm her friend, Alex Voss."

"Ms. Martinez left this morning and said she might be gone a few days."

My stomach dropped. "Did she say where she was going?"

He shook his head. "Not my business to ask, sir."

I tried Bean & Brew next, her favorite coffee shop where she claimed to do her best thinking. The barista recognized me—I've met Lena here countless times—but shook her head after I ask.

"Haven't seen her today, Mr. Voss."

I searched the park bench where she sketches when stressed, the bookstore where she browses for hours, the gym where she boxes out her frustrations… all empty.

By seven, I was seething. How can she just vanish? I'd left more messages, each progressively less composed. The last one was particularly pathetic:

"Lena, what the hell? Ten years and you can't even text back? What did I do that was so terrible? Call me."

I ended up at The Anchor, a bar not far from my penthouse. It was upscale enough to keep the college crowd away but casual enough that I don't look out of place in my rumpled work clothes.

"Whiskey. Neat." I told the bartender, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair.

He slid the drink across to me, and I downed it in one go, gesturing for another.

"Rough day?" he asked, pouring my second.

"You could say that." I took a smaller sip this time.

Three drinks in, my filter dissolved completely.

"You know what's bullshit?" I was quite louder than necessary, but who cares? "Friendship. Total bullshit."

The bartender raised an eyebrow but kept wiping glasses.

"Ten years. Ten fucking years I've been there for her. And now, what? She's ghosting me because I got a little hard? Just a little, I swear. Is that a crime?" My heart was pounding and I ran wobbly fingers through my hair.

"Maybe you should slow down on the—"

"It's not like I acted on it! I walked away! I did the right thing!" I slammed my glass down. "It's not my fault she looked good in those tiny shorts. It's not my fault my body reacted. I'm a man, for Christ's sake!"

Few patrons nearby glanced over. The bartender leaned in with a low voice. "Sir, I'm going to need you to keep it down."

"Keep it down? Sure. That's what I've been doing for years! Keeping it down. Keeping it friendly. And this is what I get?"

"Last warning before I cut you off."

I glared at him, but my rage deflated slightly. "Another," I muttered, pushing my glass forward.

"I think you've had enough," a silky voice said beside me.

A woman slid onto the stool next to mine. She was stunning—tall, with long black hair and glossy black eyes that seemed to be checking me out. Her dress clung to curves that would command any man's full attention.

"I haven't even started," I replied, but my anger softened despite myself.

She smiled, placing a hand on my forearm. "Whoever she is, she's not worth this much angst."

"You don't know her."

"No, but I know that look." Her fingers traced small circles on my skin. "The 'someone-got-under-my-skin' look."

I should've shaken her off, told her to mind her business. Instead, I found myself turning toward her. "And what's your professional recommendation, Doctor...?"

"Just call me your fairy godmother for the night." She leaned closer, her perfume enveloping me. "I recommend a proper distraction."

The bartender set down another whiskey, giving me a warning look.

"What kind of distraction did you have in mind?" I asked, taking a sip.

She got on her feet, smoothing her dress. "Something more interesting than drowning your sorrows in mediocre whiskey."

Her hand extended in an invitation. I hesitated only briefly before taking it. Maybe I needed this. Something or someone to purge Lena from my system.

We left the bar, but instead of heading toward the street, she tugged me toward a narrow alley.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere special." She glanced back with a smile that promised all sorts of sinful delights.

The alcohol clouded my judgment just enough to follow without protest. We navigated through the alley, then down a set of stairs I never would have noticed.

"Wait." I pulled back as we reach a nondescript door. "If you're looking for a one-night stand—"

She laughed, the sound quite musical to my ears.

"Oh, you stupid man." Her tone made it sound like an endearment. "I'm not taking you to bed. I'm taking you somewhere much more interesting."

"Which is...?"

"A place for people like you." She ran a finger down my chest. "People looking for something new. A proper distraction."

I was tipsy, angry, and following a stranger into what could be a dangerous situation. I thought of leaving, but curiosity and the need to forget Lena for just one night, overrode my better judgment.

The woman approached a solid metal door at the end of the alley where a large man in black stood guard, his expression hard and unwelcoming. She flashed what looked like a black card with gold trim, then pointed at me, signifying we were together.

The bouncer nodded and let us step in.

Inside, I was instantly struck by the dramatic transformation. A luxurious corridor bathed in warm amber light, air smelling faintly of jasmine and something more exotic.

Music pulsed ahead, low and sensual. Not the thumping bass of a typical club, but something that seems to vibrate through the body.

"What is this place?" I asked, taking in the plush carpeting and carved wooden panels.

She smiled and stretched a hand forward. "Why don't you see for yourself?"