by S. E. Lund
I wanted her.
The other part of me admired her for sticking to her principles. In contrast, I'd be willing to throw mine out the window for a chance to fuck her brains out.
"Your fortitude is admirable," I said. "On the other hand, I'd throw caution to the wind and gladly take you home with me. Boss or no boss."
She mopped up some of her sauce with a piece of breadstick. "As my grandfather would say, any port in a storm."
I laughed. "Your grandfather was a mariner?"
"Navy. Worked at the Navy Shipyard in Portsmouth, Maine until 1982 when he retired."
"How'd you end up in Concord, New Hampshire?"
"After my father graduated, he moved to Manchester and worked as a lawyer for a few years, he became involved in politics and moved to Concord. That's where I was born."
"My father was in the Navy as an aviator before he started MBS. I was as well. All of us boys served in some capacity."
"That's admirable," she said and her eyes, which were sharp, softened just a bit. "Not many really rich people send their sons and daughters to join the military."
I shrugged. "My father had ethics. He saw wealth as a byproduct of doing what he really loved, rather than an end in itself."
She exhaled and placed her fork on the table. "This was really good," she said and took a sip of her wine. "All of it. The restaurant. The meatballs. The wine."
"The company?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"The company, too. I wanted to thank you for helping me out when you didn't have to. Sharon came through with the first and last month's rent cashier check so you're officially off the hook but I wanted to thank you for the offer. I really needed the cell you lent me. It's been a godsend. I'm going tomorrow to pick up my new iPhone from this tech store. I paid for it online and it should be ready in the morning so I'll return this to you once I get it. I'm also getting a new tablet that can double as a laptop for writing."
"Your homage to Sex and the City?" I said, realizing she was giving me the, 'I like you but I'm not going out with you again' letdown.
"Something like that," she said with a soft smile. "I can't see you again, though. It's not good to date someone in your office. Especially not the boss. The whole power imbalance thing isn't really healthy."
"You figure you'd have me wrapped around your little finger too easily, do you?" I said and grinned at her, feeling sad that we weren't going to go home together.
She shook her head and smiled. I think I detected a slight bit of regret in her eyes.
"If you change your mind, I'll be only too willing to forgo my ethical stance against office romance."
She laughed. "I thought you were the good brother who always followed the rules and asked permission."
"In most things, yes. In this, I'll throw caution to the wind. So if you decide you want a totally meaningless no-strings attached relationship based on pure mutual pleasure, you know where to find me."
"I do," she said, smiling, her green eyes crinkling in the corners. "But I won't."
"Damn," I said and snapped my fingers. "My offer stands. Take me up on it anytime."
"Well, I better go," she said when the waitress dropped the bill off. She reached into her bag to retrieve her wallet and I stopped her, my hand on hers.
"Don't worry about the bill," I said. "I made the offer. Let me get this."
"Thanks," she said and stood. "Sharon said you spend most of your time on the paper and so we likely won't see you around the office much."
"No," I said and dropped a few bills on the table. I pulled on my jacket. "I have to attend periodic meetings with my managers at the various offices of MBS, but I'm going to focus on getting the Chronicle up and running again. We'll still be in the same office building though."
"Hopefully, we won't run into each other very often."
"Don't say that," I said, opening the door for her. "We can be friendly. We should go out for a meal now and then, so I can see how you're doing and try my hand at seducing you again in the hopes you'll finally succumb."
She laughed. "It's better this way," she said and stuffed her hands in her sweater pockets. "Don't want to tempt each other."
"I've already been more than tempted."
She smiled and then turned away, walking down the street.
"Can I give you a ride home at least?" I called out.
"Not on your life," she said after turning around and walking backwards for a few feet. "You're not going to tempt me."
"Damn," I said and smiled. "A guy's gotta try."
Then she turned around and walked out of my life.
I got home about fifteen minutes later after parking my vehicle in the parking garage and stopping to pick up a package from the front desk. I really enjoyed my meal with Ella, and wished she wasn't my employee. I had a feeling that if she wasn't, we might be on our way upstairs.
I went to bed alone, my thoughts going to her in her tiny apartment, writing erotica late into the night with her group of women writers, and of course, it made it impossible to sleep without taking care of my raging erection. So instead of sleeping with her the way I had hoped the night would end, it ended instead with me alone in my bed, my cock in hand, wishing it was her.
Chapter Seventeen
Ella
I took the subway home and went to my apartment, regretting that I'd turned Josh down.
Still, it was for the best. He was way too gorgeous and way too powerful. There was no way we'd be on equal footing. I'd always be the poor little country mouse next to his city slicker mouse. I wouldn't fit in and so the most we could have would be a purely sexual relationship. As much as I would have liked to sleep with him, I knew it would be a mistake.
I thought about Jerkface and his sexretary and there was no way I was going to be that kind of woman.
Instead, I opened my cell and skyped with Steph.
ELLA: I just got home from supper with Josh. Best meatballs in the world. *Sigh*
In a moment, she responded.
STEPH: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME ALONE YOU SHOULD BE IN HIS BED!!!
ELLA: He's my boss!
STEPH: If you played your cards right, he might end up your husband...
ELLA: In case you forgot, I'm not in the market for a husband. A handsome hunk of a boy-toy, maybe, but a husband? No.
STEPH: HE COULD BE A BOY-TOY!
ELLA: He's my boss.
STEPH: Seriously, I'd do him just for the experience. A notch on your belt, which, I might add, has very few -- like, ONE -- notch on it.
ELLA: Two. You keep forgetting Sidney Johnson.
STEPH: That didn't count. He didn't even get it inside of you, I recall you telling me.
ELLA: It was still sex. And we were still naked.
STEPH: And you were still a virgin afterwards, so no. It doesn't count. You need experience, Ella. Go get you some.
ELLA: *sigh*
STEPH: See? You regret not going home with him. The two of you are going to be filled with regrets. Not a good way to live. You should seize the day. Live life to the fullest.
ELLA: So what you're saying is that I should just forget all my ethics.
STEPH: I'm saying you should JUMP HIM!
ELLA: I think I'm going to write some erotica instead.
STEPH: Oh for God's sake... What's the use of moving to The Big Apple and not taking advantage of the men?
ELLA: I will, once I find one WHO ISN'T MY BOSS...
STEPH: Boss, schmoss. I bet he's good in bed. Now you'll never know.
ELLA: It's too late now anyway. I'm going to say goodbye. I've taken enough abuse for one night...
STEPH: You love me.
ELLA: I do. *Smooch*
STEPH: *Smooches you back*
STEPH: Look, kiddo. If he asks you out again, don't say no. Sleep with him and see where it goes. He's so damn gorgeous, you'd be a fool to let something as trivial as morals and ethics get in the way. ;)
ELLA: And instead let something as trivi
al as his good looks guide my way?
STEPH: When it comes to sex and pleasure, good looks are important factors in satisfaction.
ELLA: GOOD NIGHT!!!
STEPH: XOXOXO
I smiled and put my cell away, then opened my Iron Man notebook. Instead of actually going out and enjoying Josh the way I probably should have and could have, I decided to write a new erotic short story. In fact, I decided to write one about Josh, although I'd use a different name.
My pencil from the kiosk was much shorter, but luckily, I thought to sharpen it at work before I left for the day. Otherwise, I'd have to use the dictation app on my cell and I could never get the hang of it.
Tempt Me
The man in the grey flannel suit was not my Mr. Big but he was a pretty damn good substitute...
I sat at my kitchen table and tried to think of a scenario that excited me, and one that would excite my readers. Maybe, an agreement to have sex in the middle of the day, at a ritzy hotel, no words spoken, just get a key, take the elevator up, and go meet a man for sex. Someone you didn't know but who had been vetted by a group you belonged to -- a sex club for people who had needs but those didn't include romance or marriage.
Kind of the way both Josh and I felt after our own heartbreaking bad engagements.
I wrote my story, using Josh as my hero and myself as the heroine -- if you could call my two characters by those titles. I decided on the Ritz-Carlton Hotel across from Central Park. It would fulfil my fantasy of meeting a hot rich man there and having wild sex.
At my usual pace of four pages an hour, it took me about five hours to get the first part of the story done. When I was finished for the night, I closed my notebook and put my pencil away, then had a lukewarm shower, and went to bed with B.O.B.
Just another ordinary but sad night in my otherwise exciting new life in Manhattan.
The next morning, I rushed to work, having slept in past my alarm. I almost didn't make it, but was glad that I was able to slip into my office without running into Sharon, who was in an early meeting. I sat at my desk and pulled the box of manuscripts closer and fished out the first one, opening my notebook and taking out my pencil.
It was then I realized I forgot to remove the story out of the notebook and leave it at home. I pulled out each page and stuffed them into a file on my desk, then I spent the first part of the morning reading manuscripts and queries from various authors, reading the first five pages of book after book, deciding whether to read on later or pass. Sharon didn't want me to read past the first five or six pages, arguing that I would know whether a story gripped me in that short time. It made me feel bad for all the authors who put so much care and attention to their beloved manuscripts, only to have me reject it after the first five or ten pages, but that's what Sharon wanted. Unsolicited manuscripts were rarely accepted by the publisher. Most of the books published came via an agent or one of the editors already working in the publishing house.
By the time my ten thirty rolled around, I was ready for a break, my eyes watery after reading page after page, scratching down notes in my notebook about the ones I liked. There were a couple, and I felt they needed to be read fully, but I'd consult with Sharon first.
It was time for me to go and get my new laptop and cell from the local electronics store, so I grabbed my coat and bag and told Samantha at the front reception that I'd be gone for half an hour but would take a shorter lunch break.
"Going to get my new cell," I said as I pushed the elevator button.
"Have a good one."
I went down the elevator to the main floor and out into the glorious autumn day in Manhattan. Around me were the sounds of the street -- pedestrians walking, talking and horns blaring in the busy traffic, which always seemed to be clogged up. In the distance, a siren wailed. I glanced around and was glad to be so lucky to be here.
I made my way to the electronics shop and picked up my new iPhone 8 Plus, and after getting it activated and my data transferred, I picked up an iPad with a detachable keyboard. It was a lot cheaper than an actual laptop. After I was finished, I grabbed a coffee and went back to the office. I had a meeting with Sharon and so I had to rush the last few blocks so I wouldn't be late.
When I arrived in my office, Sharon popped her head in.
"Meet me in the boardroom. Bring your stuff and we can talk about what you've found for me."
"I will," I said and gave her a smile, trying not to appear too flustered. I sat behind my desk and exhaled, excited to meet with her and talk about the manuscripts. I gathered up the pile that I'd marked "Further Consideration" and grabbed my notebook, because I hadn't had the time to set up my new iPad, which would take maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. It was then that I noticed my red file with the erotic story I'd removed from my notebook was missing. I checked under the box, and under a pile of rejected manuscripts, but it wasn't there.
Where the hell was it?
It was a red file and I remembered putting it off to the side of my desk, away from the manuscripts so they wouldn't get mixed up.
Crap!
I checked under the desk on the off chance that I'd knocked it off and didn't notice, but the floor was bare. Nothing.
I went out of the office to the reception area.
"Have you seen a red file folder anywhere? I can't find it. It was on my desk when I left for my meeting with Sharon and now it's gone."
Theresa shook her head. "No, I haven't but Mr. Macintyre popped in when you were out, looking for you. I asked if he wanted me to let you know he'd been by, but he said no. He'd call you later."
"He was in my office?" I asked, a sinking feeling inside.
"Yes, he just popped in for a moment."
I swallowed hard. "Did he have a red file folder with him when he left?"
She shrugged and made a face. "Not that I remember, but he did have a bunch of files with him when he stopped by."
Oh, God...
Had Josh found my file folder with the erotic story ABOUT HIM?
There was no way he wouldn't see that he was the hero. Rich. Handsome with blue-gray eyes. Light brown hair, a bit longish. A well-trimmed beard. Tall. Built. Even a newspaper magnate.
I cringed internally when I thought about it. Oh, God...
I felt momentarily sick and went back to my office, sitting at my desk, not knowing what to do or how to handle it.
I made one more attempt to find the red file folder before I completely gave up hope, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. Then I thought that, maybe, I'd accidentally brought it with me to the boardroom and traced my steps back there.
Nope.
I went back to my office and sat behind my desk, staring blankly at my files, trying to decide what to do. I was going to do nothing. I wasn't going to contact Josh and ask if he had it. If he contacted me, I'd act as if it meant nothing. I'd laugh and say I was using him to make money, because I could actually sell my stories for a few bucks on Amazon.
I would not let it get to me.
Crap!
I texted Steph.
ELLA: You'll never guess what just happened!
STEPH: You won the lottery and are inviting me on a world cruise? Prince Something of Somesuch Country proposed and you're finally going to realize your dream to be a princess? The Nobel Prize Committee just awarded you the Nobel Prize for Literature? Do tell...
ELLA: I wrote an erotic story featuring Mr. Straining Glutes and me in a tryst at a hotel. I had it in a red file folder on my desk. While I was out at a meeting, he dropped by my office and found the file and took it!!! Hasn't said a word but he's the only one who could have it. I don't know what to do.
STEPH: Oh, now you're in for it! He'll probably pester you until the two of you act it out. I can see it all now -- you'll bang each other's brains out and decide you can't stand to be apart and will get married and have five kids.
ELLA: Steph! This is serious! I'm mortified...
STEPH: Seriously, kiddo. He'll probably have to make a
trip to the executive washroom to rub one out after reading it. Your erotica is good and I mean gooooood. Chill out. He's hot as a firecracker and now he won't be able to get you and your story out of his mind. Betcha a million bucks.
ELLA: You don't have a million bucks.
STEPH: But if I did, I'd bet it.
ELLA: What should I do?
STEPH: Do nothing. Let him come to you. Act nonchalant. Tell him that you were searching around for a story to make a few extra bucks and threw it together at the last minute, but you're not sure it's hot enough to sell. It might need editing. Act like it's purely a business decision. He'll be totally impressed and totally captivated and will want you even more than before.
ELLA: He's, like, a billionaire, Steph. He could have any woman he wanted. Models, starlets, debutantes.
STEPH: He'll want you. Trust me on this. Now, just go do your job and text me if anything happens. XOXOXOX
ELLA: Okay... *sigh*
I did what Steph suggested and totally ignored the panic welling up inside me. I could do nothing about the fact that Josh had found my erotic story. He had it and so now, the ball was in his court. It would be up to him whether he'd let me know he had it.
I tried to spend the rest of my day not thinking about Josh reading my story, but it was damn near impossible. I went to my meeting with Sharon and at least that distracted me for a while. At about five thirty, I packed up my things and took the elevator down to the main floor, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't run into Josh on the way out of the building. I heaved a sigh of relief when I made it past the security desk with no incident and walked down the street to the subway stop.
Then I got on my train and went home, thankful that the confrontation that I knew would eventually happen was postponed for at least another day.
About nine o'clock that night I got a text from Steph.