said to her best friend, Charlotte Martin, when she left Harper's office a couple of minutes later. Charlotte was not only her best friend, but also the editor of her last novel at Kehoe Publishing. They'd been friends since she signed her first contract with Harper. Charlotte was a short, honey blonde-haired female with big blue eyes and voluptuous curves. At forty-five she still maintained a youthful appearance on the outside because she pampered herself and stayed active at the gym a couple days a week.
"Oh you mean about the trip to Japan?"
"Yes, you know about it?" Shaundra sat down in a comfortable red and gold brocade winged chair across from Charlotte's glass modular desk.
Charlotte sat in a black leather chair unconsciously tapping a pencil against the desk.
"You know I don't fly."
Charlotte put the pencil down on the desk. "But you know this is a wonderful opportunity for you and Kehoe Publishing? Just think of all the interesting people you will meet, and Japan is a superb place to meet men."
"I don't date short men," Shaundra replied. She stood five-eight, and she liked to look up at her dates. It was better on the neck.
"It's also a great place for sight-seeing."
"So is New Orleans," Shaundra argued. "I haven't been home in a while. Maybe I'll go visit my mother while the rest of the group goes off to Japan."
Charlotte rolled the chair back and stretched. "Shaundra, girl, you're just looking for an excuse. Your latest book is the hottest thing on the market and, by going there, you're bound to take the International market by storm. It'll make you rich."
"Not everything is about money."
"Shush," Charlotte teased. "Don't let Harper hear you say that." She sat back down. "Sales are everything."
"I understand that, but I don't think I can be on a plane for twenty-five hours. I could die from a heart attack up there. I get nervous just going down south on the train."
Charlotte smirked. "There are medications that can help with your anxiety.
Valium can take the edge off or render you unconscious...depending on the dosage."
"Why does everyone want to get me fucked up? Harper already suggested that I visit a doctor friend of his."
"We don't want to get you fucked up, as you say. Go see the doctor and take your ass to Japan. You've run out of excuses."
"I can see the headlines now. Erotic romance writer, Shaundra Love Morrison, dies from an overdose of Valium while on a plane headed for the Orient."
"Your books will fly off the shelves," Charlotte said with a little laugh.
"Unfunny, best friend."
"Harper will be there. He won't let anything happen to you."
"Is that supposed to be a selling point?"
"You really need to loosen up about him. He does like you."
"And you like him."
"He's gorgeous and rich," Charlotte replied. "What's not to like?"
"Both admirable qualities," Shaundra replied, "if I was in the market for a new love interest, which I'm not."
"Why not? It's not like you're in love with Donald."
She would have to go there. She had been in an on/off relationship with Donald Frantz for ten years. Shaundra frowned. The sparks had long since died in their relationship. "He just doesn't do it for me anymore."
She wouldn't admit this to anyone but Charlotte.
"Then why are you still with him?"
"Because I'm stupid and I don't want to hurt his feelings." She sighed.
"We're the same age, yet he can't keep up with me in the sex department anymore. He uses that little blue pill, which just makes things worse."
"It's supposed to keep men erect for four hours."
"We're in our fifties. I don't know about you, but four hours is a long time to have someone huffing, puffing and sweating on top of you with no ejaculation in sight. It's pathetic."
Charlotte nearly choked on laughter. "You're just fifty years old."
"It's not funny. I get pissed because I'm sore and it never ends. He still thinks he's some kind of stud, and then when it finally ends, he just rolls over and goes to sleep."
"So what do you want?"
"For time to turn back. Sex was much better when we were in our twenties."
Charlotte picked the pencil back up. "I know what your problem is.
You have the forty-year itch. You're still sexually overactive and you need a mate who can keep up with you...probably a younger man."
"Younger?" Shaundra asked. "How much younger?"
"Younger that fifty-one," Charlotte replied. "One that can keep it up without the little blue pill. Maybe someone in his thirties."
Shaundra gasped. "I have a thirty-year-old son."
"So.