No action.

Kat's apartment was in an apartment area called 'The Village' in north Dallas. Rick had considered renting there when he and Jan had divorced because the Village was famous for its sexually available females, but he'd gone with an apartment closer to his office... and of course with the corporate discount that had so abruptly ended. In retrospect, his dependence on the company for so much of his identity had been a huge mistake.

Kat only made him wait about ten minutes... something of a record for girls he'd dated over the past few years... before joining him in his car. She wrinkled her nose as she got in. "Something die in here?"

"Only me," Rick admitted.

"Meaning?"

"Long story."

She got in, rolled down her window, and then pulled out her phone. "Hope you like reggae music. I loaded up my phone for the trip. Gets me in the mood for gambling."

"Sure. Fire it up."

He stole what he hoped was a subtle stare as she bent forward to discover how to hook her phone to his car audio system. Kat had been attractive in her gym attire but he'd wondered how she'd look in regular clothes. He needn't have been concerned. She wore a scoop-necked top that showed off her small tits to maximum advantage and a little miniskirt that displayed miles of leg. In the gym he hadn't noticed any makeup but now she was a good southern girl who wouldn't go out with a guy without wearing her war paint. But she wore it discretely, where it enhanced her high cheekbones and green eyes without calling attention to itself.

He pulled north onto 75 as Bob Marley's voice filled the car limiting his conversation.

"So," Kat said as he weaved through traffic, "you look a little different."

"I hope that's a compliment."

She studied him. "Depends. You taking steroids or something?"

"Nope. I told you I lost my job so I've been working out and--"

"Nobody changes their body that fast without something strange going on. So don't give me bullshit about working out."

He couldn't help remembering what she'd said about ripping his balls off and stuffing them down his throat. He'd tried not quite lying when he'd denied steroids, ignoring the 'or something,' part of her question. He wanted to keep his bio-DNA secret but he just didn't think outright lying was a good idea here, either.