Chapter 1

“I’m Kat Freely of KBRK Houston. Tune in tomorrow morning for the latest on two new major road construction projects. And I’ll always keep you up to date with road conditions on the early shift at 6 a.m.” At 33, there already was a hint of crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes, thanks to years of the required, overly eager local news smile. But the mat red lipstick, tasteful makeup, and freshly colored dirty blonde hair gave her petite figure an appealing girl-next-door quality. She wasn’t a bombshell like Rita Johnson, the meteorologist at KLLL, but Kat’s blue dress pinched at her high waist to reveal a subtle flair at her hips, toned legs in nude heels, and noticeably pert breasts.

“I love the way that dress looks on you,” I told her, the TV visible to us both.

“I think you love the way it looks right there,” she said, glancing back at me before turning her eyes on the crumpled blue fabric on the floor, hastily discarded only a few minutes ago.

“I do prefer it there,” I said, giving a firm smack to her ass just as I pulled my cock almost fully from inside her. I admired the thick, glistening coat on it from her arousal before sliding it back in confidently, relishing her satisfied moan as my tip touched the edge of her cervix.

“Just fuck me,” Kat said. “I’ve been needing this.”

“You always need it, you fucking slut,” I said, speeding up my thrusts.

“Especially today,” she said. “It’s date night.”

I slammed my cock into her and held it inside her. She turned her head toward me again and bit her lip, the sign that she was feeling especially naughty. My eyes lit up.

“Where is he taking you?” I asked.

“That new sushi place everyone’s talking about,” she said. See-and-be-seen was part of the job.

“What are you thinking?”

Kat expertly slid off my cock, turned around, and put her lips close to mine. Her hand gripped my hardness, the delicate fingers barely fitting around it. “Well I did just get waxed,” she said.

I took the hint and smiled. We had played this game before. “A nice thick load in your panties so you can feel me against your lips all night?” I said, cocking my head.

She answered with an urgent kiss, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune that we had found each other. It happened by chance. A local celebrity with such a pristine reputation had turned out to be my soulmate in smut.

I knew who Kat Freely was. I followed her on social media. We were Facebook friends, thanks to numerous mutual friends who trafficked in the Houston food scene. We had even conversed in direct messages a few times about travel destinations. But it wasn’t until a charity fundraiser that we met in person. I admit, I sought her out. I wanted to meet her. She was cute. She liked food. What wasn’t to like? I didn’t try to make it too obvious that I tracked her movements around the ballroom, as guests went from table to table tasting dishes from local restaurants that were paired with wines. It wasn’t hard to make it happen. It was over a forgettable short rib served with an even more forgettable Napa Cabernet. The poor showing left the table overlooked most of the night, and we were the only two standing there. I caught the frown on her face after she took a small, exploratory bite of the undercooked short rib and took that as a cue to move next to her.

“It needed to braise a little bit more, didn’t it?” I whispered, hoping I hadn’t put my face too close to hers.

“Until tomorrow to get tender, it seems,” she said and looked up at me.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Put yours on my plate, and I’ll make it disappear. No one will be the wiser.”

She smiled. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“I’m John,” I said, putting down the plate and extending my hand. She put hers down next to it, slid the short rib off her plate and onto mine, and extended her hand. “Kat Freely,” she said. “The traffic girl.”

“I confess,” I said. “I recognized you.”

“And you still saved me from that short rib,” she said. “Thanks.”

She started to move to the next table. I went the opposite direction. “It was nice to meet you,” I called.

I felt slightly exhilarated by it. She had warm hands. Her style and appeal in person were unmistakable. I sensed a smoldering allure about her. But it was a fleeting meeting, until chance intervened.

A few weeks after our first meeting, we saw each other again. I was attending a lunch time charity gala, where my bank had about a table. Kat was the emcee of the event. I played it similarly to the walkaround tasting. After the program, as people mingled during lunch, I tracked her movements and found a suitable natural moment to go up and say hi.

“Hi, Kat,” I said, “we met a couple weeks ago...”

“At the foundation event. Yes! You saved me from the short rib,” she said. I gave a broad smile.

“I’m flattered that you remember,” I said. “But I just wanted to say what a nice job you did today.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then was pulled away to others waiting to speak with her.

I got hung up at the event longer than I wanted. A talkative client had cornered me, so I ended up at the valet stand after it mostly had cleared up. But there stood Kat, speaking with someone from the valet staff. She looked concerned.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said as I approached.

She turned around. “I’m starting to think you only show up when I need help,” she said.

“Oh?” I said. “What’s the matter?”

“My car has a flat tire,” she said. “I need to get it towed. Run flats. I thought they’d be a good idea. Once the wrecker gets here, I can call an Uber.”

“I am bad luck, aren’t I?” I said. “The short rib. A flat. I’m starting to think I need to make it up to you. Why don’t I give you a ride?”

“Chivalry really isn’t dead with you,” she said. “But I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

I laughed. “I just got stuck with a client trying to suffocate me. I’d welcome the break.”

So I gave her a ride home. It wasn’t far to her apartment, only fifteen minutes, but I got to have a real conversation with her. She was born and raised in Houston. A University of Houston graduate. She had worked for three of the local TV stations now, and she loved it, but her real passion was food and cooking. I glossed over my boring career as an investment banker and talked about my love of food and cooking, too. I hoped the ride went as quickly for her as it had for me. And the bonus? Her complex was across the street from mine near downtown and also a short commute to her TV station. Smart and convenient.