Fanguella went straight to her phone and dialed her own number the minute she got home. "Grabbed a strange man's cock today at the restaurant. It was large, AND hard. He was beautiful. Note to self. Make this a habit." She hung up the phone. Laughed out loud and began to prepare for her one thirty appointment with a Mr. Richard O'something. As she got out her cards, her tape recorder and paper and pencil, she thought of Douglas. He had stumped her for a moment, when he had asked her why she did what she did. It wasn't just the question itself, but the tone, the sincerity, and honest curiosity. His incredibly warm eyes, the eyes of some one who has had his fun at another persons expense, yet who had really meant no harm. Who seemed to care what she answered, care enough about her, who was a complete stranger to wonder about her motives. He made it impossible to lie, or be flippant. He had made her see behind his playful, and irritating public face to the man within. It was a naked moment. Not that banter that she could have used so well to keep him at a distance, none of the jokes, no opening for her to be snappy and rude. All she could do in that situation was to answer honestly. But to have answered, "I don't know", she hated that. She hated that she had revealed that she doesn't always know her own motives, doesn't always plan. It seemed to her that to answer "I don't know" to anything was somehow dimwitted. She didn't like that. It made her vulnerable to someone she hardly knew, exposed. That was what made her grab his cock. She had a feeling he wouldn't react too badly, and in that way she was able to turn the tables. Maybe it had made him forget her moment of uncertainty. Yet she did not want to lose the moment completely. It opened a window on him for her. He was honest in that moment. He was gentle. It was intimate, and she didn't want to forget that and she didn't want him to either. Hopefully her grabbing his cock did not diminish the moment. If only she had waited even just a moment longer so that she could gouge out his reaction to her bold hands, if only she had not turned her cowardly back on him and run away. She knew her coolness; she knew she could pull things off without making it look anything but planned, cool and calculated. It was that her honestly cowardly reaction was sure to be taken as calculated that bothered her. But to be recognized as a coward was not much better. Damn. If he did take it well she'll know it by his reaction to her tomorrow. She felt pretty sure that her hands slid over him in such a way that he could not be anything but pleased, and she planned to do absolutely nothing tomorrow. Except that she may have a slight oversight while dressing tomorrow. She just might forget to put any panties on under her short suede skirt.