My cellphone vibrated in my jacket pocket with an incoming message. I expected it would be Julia explaining her absence, but her text had me frowning instead. Go see the bartender, her message read. He has your present.

  I looked up from my phone and across the room to where I knew the bearded bartender was stationed behind the long bar. I mumbled an excuse to my friends, although I doubted anyone was paying that close of attention, and walked across the brewery floor.

  I had to wait a few moments while the lone bartender finished fulfilling a number of drink orders before I finally gained his attention. I cleared my throat, unsure of what I was supposed to say.

  “Hi. I’m Cassidy. Uh, I think you have something for me?”

  With anyone else, like one of my cop friends, I would have expected the whole ‘this-stranger-has-something-for-you’ line to have been a setup. I highly doubted Julia would be so juvenile as to pull that kind of prank on me, especially on my birthday. But I was still unsure about asking.

  Recognition lit up the young man’s features. He signaled for me to wait while he ducked beneath the bar to retrieve something. He returned to his full height moments later and set a key connected to a keychain with the brewery’s logo in front of me.

  I stared at the key—my present?—for a few seconds. “Uh, thank you?”

  He grinned a little wider. “It opens that door,” he said. He pointed in the direction of a double set of doors, both closed. The words Employees Only Beyond this Point warned patrons from wandering too far from the brewery floor.

  I plucked the key from the countertop, fairly confident I knew what, or who, I would find behind those locked doors. That the brewery’s staff might also know should have had me blushing, but I didn’t. It was my birthday, and if Julia wanted to surprise me with not-so-sneaky brewery sex, I wasn’t going to suddenly get shy.

  I nodded my thanks to the man before striding confidently towards the presumably locked double doors. It would have been polite to tell my friends that I’d be back soon, but realistically I had no idea how long I would be. Again, I reminded myself that it was my birthday; I was allowed to be a little selfish.

  Beyond the double doors I discovered the production side of the brewery. It was significantly larger than the tap room that the public got to see. Giant steel fermentation tanks dominated the space along with numerous pallets filled with metal kegs. The pungent scent of proofing bread, which I knew to be from one of beer’s essential ingredients—yeast—perfumed the air.

  The room was silent, the bottling station quiet for the night. My shoes sounded hollow against the concrete floor. Only the muffled sounds of music and conversation in the next room filtered into the production space.

  I walked along the silent brewing equipment with my ears and eyes focused on finding my girlfriend. I was so zeroed in on finding where Julia might be hiding that the vibration of my cellphone in my leather jacket pocket nearly startled me.

  A second text of the night illuminated the phone’s screen: You’re getting warmer, Detective.

  A small smile tickled my lips. I looked up from the phone, but still couldn’t see her, although she apparently could see me.

  I walked a few more steps in the same direction. My phone buzzed again in my hand: Warmer.

  Text messages typically lacked emotion, but even without the use of emojis, I could practically hear her warm, amused tone in the one-worded message.

  A few more steps produced another text: You’re burning up.

  I lifted my eyes from the phone’s screen and again scanned my surroundings without success. Despite her text messages, I was starting to doubt she was even in the same room.

  When I turned a corner, still empty with the exception of more beer-making equipment, another text filled my phone’s screen: Colder.

  The directional text was followed by another message, this one from Rich: Where did you go?

  I’ll be back, I wrote him. It didn’t exactly answer his question, but at least he could relay to everyone that I hadn’t entirely disappeared.

  “Julia?” I called out. I didn’t mind the sentiment behind Julia’s game, but I also didn’t want to be on a wild goose chase all night.

  A delicate cough, like someone clearing their throat, drew my attention to an elevated catwalk that I hadn’t noticed before. I spied high-heeled shoes and the hint of a delicate ankle first. The leather stilettos were impractical and out of place in the industrial space. With a light touch to the banister, Julia descended the metal staircase. Her high-waisted pencil skirt and heels made the maneuvering more challenging, but Julia had never let her surroundings dictate her fashion choices.

  I waited at the bottom of the steps with my phone in my hand and my heart in my throat. My gaze scanned up the femininely muscled calves, encased in dark grey nylons, as she closed the distance between us. Her fitted wool skirt was a few shades darker than her stockings. A sheer, black blouse completed the outfit. The long-sleeved shirt was open at the top; a double strand of iridescent pearls hung just below the hollow of her throat.

  When she reached the bottom step, she placed her hand on my cheek. I hadn’t seen her since she’d left the condo earlier that morning. It might as well have been a lifetime though.

  “Hi.” I finally regained enough air to greet her.

  Her ruby red lips lifted on one side. “Hello.”

  “What’s all this?” I questioned. “A secret brewery rendezvous? Do you know the bartender or something?”

  “Or something.” She curled her finger, beckoning me to follow.

  I walked a few steps behind her, always appreciative of the view. She stopped suddenly and turned to face me. I stayed still as she approached.

  The touch of Julia’s tongue against my lower lip coaxed a low sound from the back of my throat.

  “Hands up, Detective.” The words were murmured into my ear.

  I did as she told me. I raised my arms high in the sky. As I followed her instructions, my fingers brushed against a metal horizontal pole that had no visible beginning or end.

  Julia stood behind me. I shuddered when I felt the press of her body against my back. She trailed her fingertips up my elevated arms until her hands met mine. Wordlessly, she guided my hands and curled my fingers over the metal pole. I was putty to her guiding touch, eager to do or be wherever she wanted me.

  “Hold onto this,” she instructed. “And if you know what’s good for you …” She let the final three words fall slowly from her painted mouth: “Don’t. Let. Go.”

  I tightened my fingers around the elevated pole and gave it an experimental tug to test its stability. I didn’t know if the metal rod served some purpose in the beer-making process, but I figured it would have been made from stainless steel or copper if that had been the case. Plus, I trusted Julia would never do something that might damage someone else’s property.

  Julia stroked her fingers down the center of my back. I could feel the bite of her short, manicured nails even through the material of my flannel shirt. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

  I shook my head even though I had a pretty good idea.

  “I’m going to fuck you while all of your friends wait on you, wondering why on earth you’d be missing your own birthday party.”

  Her response caused my breath to hitch in my throat. I’d once asked her not to take it easy on me, and she’d stayed faithful to that promise.

  She started with the top buttons of my buffalo-checked shirt and worked her way down. She moved methodically and efficiently. She didn’t tease me—yet. It was obvious she had an agenda, and my shirt played little to no part in her plan. With my arms still elevated and my hands curled around the metal bar, she couldn’t completely remove either my shirt or my bra. She seemed satisfied to let my shirt hang open in the front. I could no longer see the doorway through which I’d entered moments earlier. As much as I hated being exposed and vulnerable, I knew Julia wouldn’t have gone to all of this trouble only for us to be interrupted or walked in on.

  Julia stood in front of me. I felt her cool, nearly disinterested gaze on my exposed flesh. Her feminine fingers trailed up my abdomen, between my breasts, and up my breast plate. Those same fingers gently settled around my neck, lightly squeezing, but not enough to truly obstruct my breathing. Just her proximity and the knowledge of what might come next—namely, me—was enough to have me gasping.

  “Ask me nicely,” she quietly commanded.

  I swallowed beneath her fingers. “Julia. Please.”

  The fingers around my neck subtly squeezed. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Birthday Girl.”

  “Please, Julia. Fuck me.”

  Julia released my neck. Her fingers moved next to my mouth where they tapped against slightly parted lips, demanding entrance. “Get me ready for you.”

  I opened wider and she slipped her first and middle finger into my mouth. Her fingers slid along my flattened tongue. She stuck them deep in my mouth, not to the point where I was gagging, but enough to make me blush. I closed my lips around her thick fingers and worked my tongue along the underside of her digits.

  “Good girl,” she murmured.

  If I hadn’t been holding on to that metal bar, my knees would have buckled and failed me.

  While I sucked on the fingers on her right hand, her left hand was busy with the top button and zipper of my jeans. She’d recently been cleared by her doctor to forgo the splints and wraps; her wrist was fully healed, but it would take some physical therapy for her to regain full flexibility and strength. I was only so happy to be doing my part for her PT. She needed both hands to wiggle my fitted jeans past my hips and to pull down my underwear as well. With my jeans bunched around my ankles, the gusset of my underwear revealed evidence of my early excitement.

  Julia removed her fingers from my mouth and I found myself gasping. She stalked behind me, and I held my breath in anticipation. I shifted my palms on the metal pole, but was careful not to let go. My triceps were beginning to ache from their elevated position, but I would never complain to Julia about that.

  Her hot mouth pressed between my shoulders through the material of my flannel shirt. She wrapped her arm around my midsection, and her fingertips sliced through the front of my shaved pussy. She spread my wetness from my slit to my clit, a combination of my saliva and arousal. I was always wet for her. My eyes snapped open when I felt a slippery finger slide past my pussy to toy with the second opening farther back.

  “Maybe another time,” she mused.

  I could only whimper with need.

  Her fingers returned to the opening of my sex. She pressed her fingertips against me, but not hard enough that she might slip in. With her standing behind me but touching me from the front, the sensation was almost akin to masturbating—only this was better. Much better.

  I tried to widen my stance for her, but those damn jeans around my ankles only allowed for so much movement. I wouldn’t be able to get rid of them entirely without first taking off my leather boots. The longer she toyed with me, the more acutely aware I became that I was missing my birthday party. In truth, the only person I wanted to see that day was the woman currently licking the outer shell of my ear and slowly manipulating my clit in small circles, but I stupidly didn’t want to be rude to my friends. It was Christmas Eve, and they’d chosen to share the holiday with me.

  “Julia … baby,” I breathed.

  “I know, darling,” she appeased.

  Her fingers left my clit, and I felt her dexterous touch elsewhere. Her first and ring finger settled on my pussy lips and gently spread me apart. Her middle finger pressed against my dampness. I released a long breath when she finally penetrated me.

  I felt full from only the single finger. She’d worked me up to the point that my inner muscles had already tightened.

  “Don’t let go,” she murmured.

  As if I could forget.

  Julia pressed the length of her body against the back of my own. I could feel the softness of her breasts pressing into my upper back. I wanted to touch her. To manipulate her nipples. To pinch and pull at the hardened buds until she cried out. But instead, I gripped the metal bar above my head tighter.

  Julia masturbated me with both hands. She rubbed at my clit with increased urgency while a single finger in my sex became two. The muscles in my abdomen clenched, and my breathing became more labored.

  “Fuck that’s good,” I encouraged her. “Just like that, baby.”

  Julia maintained her speed and pressure and command. My upper thighs began to quiver, and I struggled to remain standing. I could feel my body turning to liquid from her deft touch. Aided by upper body and core strength, I somehow managed to stay on my feet.

  The tightness in my abdomen radiated outward. Each affected muscle began to twitch and seize.

  “Oh fuck,” I groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

  The fingers between my thighs and the fingers pressed against my clit never paused, never faltered. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the intense wave of my orgasm.

  Shit. If this was twenty-nine, I couldn’t wait to turn thirty.

  My heart hammered in my throat as I bent down to grab my jeans and underwear. Both were still bunched at my ankles. My fingers and arms tingled from being elevated for so long.

  “Don’t pull those up yet,” Julia instructed. “I’ve got one more present for you.”

  “One knee-wobbling orgasm wasn’t enough?”

  I’d barely had enough time to recuperate from what I’d thought had been my birthday surprise.

  Julia retrieved a small, flat box from where it had unobtrusively sat on a nearby beer keg. Her face was neutral as she passed me the wrapped box. “I know you hate when your birthday and Christmas presents are rolled into one gift,” she explained. “Besides, everyone should have something to unwrap.”

  The only thing I wanted to unwrap was her, but I accepted the gift-wrapped box without comment.

  I held the small box in my hands. It was light, almost like it contained nothing at all.

  “You really didn’t have to,” I began my protest.

  Money and things that could be purchased with money had always made me uncomfortable. Julia had always had a more sizable salary than me, even when she’d been a public defender. We hadn’t talked about it, but I imagined her new job with Grisham & Stein had come with a sizable jump in pay.

  “I know,” she concurred. “But think of it as a present for me, too.”

  I continued to stare down at the elegantly decorated box. “Okay,” I said, still uncomfortable with the gesture.

  I took my time with the ribbon, bow, and wrapping paper, keenly aware of Julia’s eyes on me. I abhorred being the center of attention, even if it was only the two of us. I was eager to see what was inside of the box, but I carefully unwrapped the small package rather than tear into it like an eight-year-old kid on Christmas morning.

  I separated the top from the bottom of the box and peered inside. Delicate black lace peeked out from beneath festive holiday crepe paper.

  I fished the garment out of the box. “You got me underwear?”

  The material looked expensive—far nicer and much more expensive than what I typically wore.

  “Not just any kind of underwear,” Julia mused.

  She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slim, black device that looked similar to a small remote. She pressed her thumb against the mechanism, and the lace in my hands began to buzz.

  “Oh shit.” I swore without meaning to.

  Julia’s smile was nearly maniacal. “Are you ready for your birthday party, darling?”

  I walked with an uncertain gait from the brewing room to the tap room where my friends were waiting for me. Julia walked beside me with her hand in the small of my back. It was a role reversal of sorts. I typically was the one to open doors or guide her while we walked. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was a little unnerving.

  “What’s your safe word?” Julia’s question was quiet; I almost hadn’t heard it.

  I turned to her before we reached my friends. “You think I’ll need one?”

  “Better safe than sorry,” she reasoned. She leaned a little closer and dropped her volume even lower. “Unless you want to yell out ‘Dear God, Julia, stop destroying my clit’ in front of your nearest and dearest friends?”

  If her words were intended to make me back down, I was too stubborn to heed her warning. “Mistletoe,” I decided. I raised a defiant chin. “But I’m not going to need it.”

  “We’ll see.” Her smile was so sweet it was saccharine.

  “There’s the birthday girl!” Rich greeted as we approached my group of friends. “And her better half,” he said with a deferential nod to my girlfriend.

  In my absence, more of my friends had shown up to the informal gathering. Rich and Grace Kelly, Brent, and Angie were joined by my other closest police friend, Adan, and his girlfriend, Isabelle.

  Rich gave the two of us a particularly smug and mischievous smile. “Julia, I hope you weren’t too hard on dear Cassidy with all of those birthday spankings.”

  “Rich!” Grace squeaked. She swatted at her boyfriend’s arm.

  “Oh, she can handle it,” Rich dismissed.

  I stole a glance in Julia’s direction. She’d abandoned us for the bar area, presumably to get something to drink. I watched the crowds literally part as she approached the busy bartender. They could have simply been being kind, but more than likely Julia had flashed a fierce look that had people scattering out of her way. Some people might desire a partner who was generous with their kindness. I, however, thoroughly enjoyed Julia’s idiosyncrasies and icy tendencies. It made the quiet moments spent with her and the niceties that she lavished on me even more special.

  Grace’s voice pulled my attention back to my assembled friends. “Big plans for tomorrow or just a quiet, cozy Christmas at home?”

  “We’re, uh, we’re actually headed to St. Cloud tomorrow,” I revealed. “Going to spend a few days with my parents.”