I’ve never cared for Valentine’s Day.  Too commercial, too sentimental, and who ever heard of celebrating love on a day when someone known for it was beheaded?  I think even St.  Valentine himself would consider it tacky.

Okay, so maybe I’d had a few bad experiences with the dreaded Hallmark holiday.  Who honestly enjoyed all those cheesy red hearts and fattening chocolates anyway?

At least, that’s what I told myself as I made my way down the street.  I sighed, knowing I wasn’t fooling myself.  Valentine’s made me lonely and, because of that, I had agreed to a ridiculous blind hook-up through a web forum.

I pulled out a little scrap of paper from my pocket to check the address and wondered for the hundredth time if this was a good idea.

One of my ex’s, Cass, with whom I was still friends (and I was friends with many—being boyfriends was difficult, being friends was the easy part) had suggested I stop moping and do something about my constant sexual frustration.

“We’re men,” Cass had told me.  “We have needs.  There’s no reason to make matters complicated.”

I hadn’t been so sure, but Cass told me that he knew a lot of guys who used the forum to meet up just to, well, satisfy their mutual needs.  I never liked the idea of casual sex, but then again, I’d never gone this long without getting laid and I felt like I was about to burst.  Since I’ve always been a bit quiet, people don’t tend to realize that my libido actually runs pretty high.  I usually hold back because I don’t trust myself to let loose.

“Besides,” Cass had added, “you always get depressed when you’re alone for Valentine’s Day.”

He was right, of course, though I hated to admit it.  At least if I met up with someone through the website, I wouldn’t end up cruising through the local bars for a one-night stand, which I never liked.  So Cass’s alternative was probably for the best.  At least I could see some background information before meeting up with anyone.  Plus, the way Cass had discussed everything made the whole arrangement sound almost normal.  “Just meet and see what you feel up for,” he’d told me.  I had squirmed a bit, still unsure, but eventually agreed to it.

The address was in a neighborhood on the west side.  The area had been one of those places that twenty years ago had been filled with industrial buildings, but had gradually been filled by young, artistic types looking for low rent in the city.

When I walked up to the building, it looked normal enough.  I’d half feared it would be some rundown, creepy place that would make me lose my nerve.  Maybe I’d half hoped it would be so I’d have an excuse to chicken out.  As it was, I took a breath and started up the outdoor staircase.  The apartment was 405, so I headed to the fourth floor.

I grumbled about the lack of an elevator, but it probably made for cheap rent for the tenants.  My wavy, reddish-blond hair blew into my face as I reached the top.

When I found the door, I just stood there for a moment.  Then I suddenly realized how absurd I was being.  I mean, Cass had hooked up this way plenty of times.  It wasn’t as if I was doing anything wrong.  I was just meeting someone to talk with… and, okay, probably have sex, but that was beside the point.

I shifted my weight and finally pressed my finger to the doorbell, telling myself to just calm the hell down.  The door opened and I blinked, dumbfounded.  This was not the same man whose picture I’d seen online (he was better looking actually), but what made me speechless was the fact that every stitch of his clothing was missing.  His compact body was muscular and deliciously defined.

The man just stood there, naked and calm, his dark brows drawing together.

“You’re late.

I blinked at him...