“Misch, this is Claudio Ruiz, my partner. Sort of. Everyone calls him Ruiz,” Tal introduced them.

“You're the chick?” Ruiz clarified. Misch blushed and again tried to push away from Tal. He had probably told his friend all about her, about what she was doing.

“The one and only,” she mumbled, pulling at Tal's arm.

“Thank god, cause if there were more of you, I'd probably never see my 'partner' here ever again,” Ruiz teased. He smiled and laughed, but there was an edge of hardness underneath it. His eyes didn't smile at all, and they stayed trained on her face the whole time.

He doesn't like me.

“Sorry, I'm not trying to be a Yoko,” she offered.

“Oh, no, he just talks about you. A lot. Like non stop. Never shuts up. Can't get a word in edgewise. Won't -,” Ruiz began prattling off. Tal slapped him in the back of the head.

“Shut up, Ruiz. Look, give us twenty minutes, and we'll meet you in the bar,” Tal suddenly said, and with his free hand he grabbed the duffel bag out of Ruiz's.

“What? But I thought you wanted to -,” his partner began to argue.

“No, no, it's okay, I can come back, Tal. I just wanted to say hi, really -,” Misch chimed in.

“Shut up,” Tal snapped. Everyone shut up. “You're not going anywhere but upstairs, Misch. Ruiz, we can handle that shit later. Meet us down here. Twenty minutes.”

Then Tal was practically dragging her into the elevator.

“Honestly, hang out with your friend. I'm not trying to be that chick, I just wanted to say hi,” she said quickly, once they were alone.

“I want you to be 'that chick', and you're gonna do a lot more than say 'hi' to me,” he assured her. He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. Dust flew everywhere – his black hair almost looked salt-and-pepper.

“What were you two doing!?” she demanded, her eyes wandering over his clothing again.

“Hmmm, wouldn't you like to know,” he teased, grabbing her hips and pulling her close.

“Yeah, I would. And stop touching me, you're filthy,” she pointed out.

“Oh, c'mon, you love a filthy boy,” he cooed, leaning in to bite on her ear.

“Filthy, not dirty. You're gross,” she informed him.

“Filthy, dirty, nasty, raunchy; I'm a man of many talents,” he whispered, running his tongue along the inside of her ear.

He looked like he had been rolling around in a dried up mud pit, but when he kissed her, Misch didn't stop him. She couldn't resist him. He could've told her to get on her knees for him – in the elevator, dirty as he was – and she would've done it without hesitating.

Why can't life be like a dirty man who kisses good?

“Your friend doesn't like me.”

It was closer to forty-five minutes later when Tal and Misch made their way back downstairs.

“No, he's just … closed off,” Tal tried to explain.

“Your 'closed off' friend doesn't like me,” she repeated herself. He rolled his eyes.

“He doesn't know you, so how can he have an opinion?” he pointed out.

“Um, it's called 'judging' someone. Is it because of … you know … my thing,” she stuttered around what she was trying to say. They still weren't saying the M-word.

“Ah, 'my thing', how perfect. Like a cancerous growth,” he chuckled, though it sound angry. Evil.

“Not funny,” she snapped.

Mike was completely innocent, a victim of her little infidelity. Well, not so little, anymore – and that just made it worse. She would never let Tal, or anyone, say a disparaging word about him.

“Sensitive. And no, it's not cause of that – Ruiz doesn't have morals, I'm pretty sure he prefers married women. He's just worried that you're too much of a distraction for me,” Tal told her. She bit at her bottom lip.

“Am I? I don't want to get you in trouble,” she replied. Suddenly, his hand was on her ass, grabbing her roughly, yanking her up against his side. He seemed to prefer her that way, always pressed against him. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it, someone needing to touch her that much.

“Baby, you are the biggest distraction I've ever had in my entire life. I love it. Let me worry about my work,” he assured her.

“That would be easier if I knew exactly what it was.”

They strode into the lounge, and he ignored her statement as he said hello to his friend.

Ruiz still looked at her in that smiling-not-smiling way, but didn't say anything. They ordered dinner and drinks. Conversation flowed. Tal was cheeky and witty, but Ruiz was more laugh-out-loud and slapstick funny. He had a slight accent, and it was finally revealed that he was originally from Cuba.

They finished dinner and moved up to the bar, ordered some real drinks. Ruiz seemed to loosen up with her, and he regaled her with stories of Tal. Places they'd been and stupid things Tal had done while there. He had a penchant for getting caught in public doing nasty acts that were better left to be done in bedrooms. Apparently, Mischa wasn't the only one he liked to indulge in that fetish with.

She eventually let go of the feeling that Ruiz didn't like her, she was having such a good time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard, had felt so carefree. With her friends, she was always hiding her shameful secret – with these men, it was open, and it was accepted. With her husband, she was always walking on eggshells because he was easy to offend and always wanted to be the center of attention – with these men, they could dish it and take it, and even encouraged her to be the same.