I started driving, pulling back onto the road with one hand, the other covering hers, pushing it into my shorts, and stroking hard.

She pulled away, because we were approaching the gate.  I squeezed my tip hard one last time and reached up to grip the steering wheel.

The guard nodded at me, a question in his eyes.  He opened the gate, but tried to wave me over.

I ignored him.  I really didn’t want to talk to him just then.  Not to mention my impossible to miss hard-on.

I started cursing as I pulled into my driveway.  A familiar black Mercedes was parked at the front door.  It was unoccupied, which infuriated me, as I saw no one around.  The bitch had somehow kept a key.

“Whose car is that?”

“Tammy’s.  My ex-wife.”

She whistled.  “She come over often?”

“No.  Never.  Well, hardly ever.  The last time I saw her was a few months ago, when she came to hit me up for money.  Don’t ask me why she needed it.  I gave her millions in the divorce settlement.  My best guess is she couldn’t access the full amount fast enough.”

“Does she still have a key?”

“I guess so.  She’s not supposed to, but I’m positive that I didn’t leave the house unlocked, and I don’t see her out here.”

“Wow.  She filched a key?  She’s still got a thing for you, huh?”

I shot her a look.  “Hardly.  That was kind of the problem with our marriage.  When we were younger, I encouraged her to go to school.  She went for a few years, then dropped out.  She told me I was pushing her into a career she didn’t want.  She said she wanted to stay at home, keep house, even though we paid someone to clean the place, but I said fine.

I just wanted her to be happy, but she was never happy.  I swear she spent ten years where she did nothing but play on the computer, addicted to some online game.  When I caught her cheating, she said that I made her stay home, that I’d held her back, and turned her into a depressed housewife.

“Sheesh, make up your mind, Dair, were you pushing her too hard or holding her back?”

I smiled at the teasing note to her voice.  “I wish I knew.  I was just doing my best.  She said I worked too much, then when I’d take time off to be with her, she said I was smothering her.”

“She sounds bipolar.”

“Probably.  Whatever she is, it’s not my problem anymore.”  I’d never been so happy about it as I was at just that moment.

“Well, her loss is my gain.”

“I’m sorry.  I need to stop talking about this.  I’m probably boring you to tears.”

“Not at all.  I want to hear it.  I want to know everything.  Every piece of the puzzle.”

“Me being the puzzle?”

“Of course.”

I thought that was encouraging.  And I loved that she thought of people as puzzles.  I thought the same.

I sighed heavily.  “She doesn’t seem to be coming out.  I guess I should get this over with.”

“So I get to meet your ex already?”

Why did she look gleeful at the prospect?

“What do you mean, already?  Were you planning to meet her later?”

She winked at me.  “Well, yeah, eventually.  It was inevitable, right?”

What the hell did she mean by that?  I couldn’t begin to guess.  I could only be relieved that she wasn’t running in the other direction at the first sign of drama.

“I hope you don’t scare easily.  She can be a little sharp.”  That was the nicest way I could word it.

“I’m sure I’ll survive.  Come on, champ, let’s go do this.”

I laughed.  I loved her attitude.

Tammy was ready to ambush us the second we walked in the front door.

She’d put some time and care into her looks today.  She wore a tight leopard print dress that I’d have sworn she never would have been caught dead in a year ago.  She was thin, the only shape on her body given to her by her prominent bones.  What there was of her chest was being tortured into making cle**age that spilled out of her top.  The dress was flattering, if you liked a woman thin like that.  I found that I didn’t care for it at all, anymore.  Had I ever?  I couldn’t even remember.

She wore very high red stilettos that, again, you couldn’t have made her wear a year ago.

Her hair was down.  It was her pride and joy.  It was dark, thick and wavy, and she kept it very long.  She’d done something to it, gotten highlights that were a touch too brassy, and made it look fried.

Her makeup was heavy and dark, her chocolate brown eyes lined thickly.  She was a beautiful woman, I’d always thought so, but I found suddenly that she just looked tired and worn-out.  And mean.  And, frankly, old.  I wasn’t proud of myself for thinking it, but hell, the woman had done a whole lot to earn my contempt.

As soon as her gaze caught Iris, they became glued to the other woman.

“Oh, God, Dair, what are you doing?  What is she, eighteen?  I come to see you, to talk like mature adults, and I find this?”

Iris was unfazed.  Completely unflappable.

In fact, she smiled.

I decided then and there that I just might already be falling for her.

“Iris, this is my ex-wife, Tammy.  Tammy, this is Iris.  She’s twenty-four, if you must know.”