Sonny let his arms drop to his sides. Finished at last, he
thanked the old tailor and pressed a few dollars into his hand.
Though very well paid for his services, Sonny always
remembered to give him a few dollars for the grandchildren.

He watched the old man shuffle from the room. "You know
what the tragedy of all this is?" Sonny asked as he slipped his
sock-clad feet into a soft pair of leather loafers.

His companion shook her head.

"That old man is more familiar with my crotch than you are."

"Sonny Corinthos!" Dara gaped.

He gave her a dimpled smile, his eyes full of mischief. This
was a different Michael Corinthos; from the beard that sprouted
on his handsome face, to the casual slacks and taut white T-
shirt he wore. "You can change all that. Forget about taking
things slow," he urged, his voice low and hypnotic.

Dara bit her lip. "If I recall, you used to like slow."

Her words hit him like a punch to the stomach. Vivid images
of nights spent in his penthouse bombarded him from every
direction. "You aren't playing fair, Counselor."

And neither was he, Dara thought, feeling a familiar warmth
begin. Damn him for that. Between the way he always drawled
the last syllable of her title, to the references to his crotch, she
was as stimulated as he was.

Well, if that was how he wanted to play, she had learned a
thing or two over the years.

Dara bit back a smile as she leaned over to retrieve her bag.
She made sure that her Sonny had an unobstructed view of her
shapely rear end. From the corner of her eye she watched as he
gaped open mouthed at her. "I'm ready," Dara said,
straightening up. She kept her voice low and husky, conjuring
evocative images of just what she was ready for.

Sonny shook his head in admiration. Dara kept saying that he
had changed, but . . . She was something else. Gone was the
hesitancy he remembered from their time in Port Charles.
When she made the decision to try her musical career, Dara let
go. Publicly now she was everything only Sonny had seen in
private - sassy, sexy, and daring.

"So what time is your show?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Seven."

"I'll be there."
Dara reached out and ran a finger along his jaw. "You'd better.
It's a private show."

Sonny stiffened at her touch. It had been so long since he'd felt
Dara's flesh against his. Merde'. It was heaven. "Counselor...."
he warned, pushed to his limit.

Dara smiled knowingly and removed her hand. "Don't be late."
She kissed him on the cheek. As she pulled away, she gave a
quick nip to his earlobe. "Or I'll start without you."

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