I grabbed the money off the desk and shoved it into my bra.
The guys looked chagrined, but they didn't argue with me taking their money. We went through the rest of the photos. "These don't help us," they said about some of them. Or "we get the idea, you didn't need to take as many of these." But then they got to the photos of the sitting room. "You are clear where each room is. It's like a tour. And you shoot from multiple directions." Then they found a shot I had taken of the wall. There was a ray of sunlight slanting into the room, and I'd taken the photo so that half the wall was in direct sunlight, half not.
"I have twenty bucks that says that's a useful photo."
"No bet!" they both said. "But why is this useful?"
"Well, I figured you weren't going to maintain the color scheme, but in case you did, I thought it might be useful to see the current color both with direct and indirect sunlight."
"Shit," said Bob. "I thought it was just a mistake."
Brian went to the next photo. "You sat in a chair for this. You're working hard to show the rooms from multiple angles. Most people wouldn't have thought of that."
"I sat on the floor for some, too. And stood on a chair trying to be tall."
It took nearly 30 minutes to go through everything. In the end, I had an idea of what had impressed them, which meant I was more likely to be able to duplicate it if I had to do it again. There were a lot of photos we admitted weren't really worth the effort, but Bob pointed out that's always true. Better to take everything because you never know when you'll want something you hadn't anticipated again.
"How do I get the photos off here and onto my computer," Bob asked when we were done.
I got my laptop, connected the iPad, and pulled the photos from it. Wordlessly, Veronica handed me an external drive to move the photos to. I copied the photos and then handed it to Bob. "Do you need me to copy them onto your computer for you?"
* * *
Veronica declared our work day was over promptly at six. A twelve-hour day, and she did this all the time? I was mentally exhausted.
She didn't say anything as we locked the office up and turned to her apartment. We stepped in the door and I immediately kicked off my shoes. She locked the door, grabbed me and slammed me against the door, then pressed herself against me and her mouth was all over mine. She ravaged me with her mouth then pulled me away and started pushing me into the apartment. Push. Pursue and catch. Shove me against a wall and kiss me. I fell onto the couch and she followed after me, climbing on top of me and kissing me ferociously.
Finally she calmed down and climbed off of me, collapsing to the couch and panting.
"Boss," I said. "Is that some sort of benefit of working at your company?"
"Oh Shane," she said. "You were brilliant today. And that entire thing with Bob and Brian. I thought I was going to die laughing. You called them boys! They're each at least 10 years older than you. And you were calling them boys."
I fished the money out of my bra. "Was stuffing the money down there over the top?"
"Yes," she told me, "but it was perfect. Sometimes over the top is exactly what's required. Neither of them are going to think you got the job just because you're my girlfriend, and the entire story will be all over the office by the staff meeting tomorrow."
She cuddled up to me. "Shane, I am so proud of you."
I put my head on her shoulder. "I didn't want to embarrass you," I said. "But Veronica, I'm so tired."
"Aw, poor baby. How does a bubble bath and order out Chinese sound?"
"That sounds lovely."
She got up, telling me, "Wait here." First she found her phone and ordered our dinner. They she went to the bathroom and started drawing the path. While the tub was filling, she came out, pulled me to my feet, and had all my clothes off me and my mouth thoroughly ravaged before the tub was ready. She helped me get settled in then scampered away.
"Hey!" I protested. "You're not making me soak alone, are you?"
"Only until the food arrives," I said. "I don't want to answer the door wearing nothing but soap bubbles."
"I didn't think of that," I said. "I guess that's why you're the boss."
She laughed. She made several trips back and forth to the bathroom, setting up a little stool for the food to sit on, lighting candles, that sort of thing. I heard the doorbell, and shortly after she brought the food in, setting up plates and serving me. She looked around, said, "one more thing."
When she came back, she was just as naked as I was and was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. She poured us each a glass, handed one to me, and then climbed into the tub.
I stared at the wine.
"Veronica," I said as she settled in at the other end of the tub, sighing blissfully. "I may have been brilliant at work, I don't know. I guess that's for you to judge. But I'm pretty sure I didn't suddenly turn from 19 to 21 just like that."
"Special occasion," she said. "Have you ever had alcohol before?"
"Yes."
"I won't give you a second glass. And I may not ever offer you another glass before your 21st birthday. But that glass is your choice."
She took a sip from hers then reached over to grab a wonton.
The wine was very good.
I asked how Veronica kept up the schedule.
"It's not any different than weight training," she said. "You build up the right muscles. Still, some days seem longer than others. I did warn you about the hours."
"I'm not complaining," I replied. "Just asking."
We soaked for a while and ate while hanging off the edge of the tub. It felt very decadent. Then we cuddled in the tub until the water started to chill.
She helped me stand up. We took turns drying each other. Then, wearing nothing but bath towels, we cuddled in front of the television for a while. We'd never done that before, our time together had always been so hectic.
"This is nice," I said.
We were in bed and asleep by nine.
Friday went a lot like Thursday had. I went for a run and wondered what was going to happen to my weight training schedule. I vowed to talk to Veronica about it. We had a working lunch. At four, Veronica sent everyone home for the weekend, and she and I were done shortly after that. When we got back to the apartment, she kissed me then asked me how I was feeling.
"Not bad," I said. "Not as tired as yesterday, but we quit earlier."
"There's a milonga tonight. Would you like to go?"
"Yes!" I said. "Can we? I can dance a few dances in my heels, but I'll have to switch to flats eventually. Will that bother you?"
She shook her head. "The milonga doesn't start until nine. Whatever shall we do to fill the time?"
"Maybe we should go to bed so we're well rested for a night of dancing."
"That's an excellent suggestion!"
Twenty minutes later and I was screaming her name into a gag. Once she released me, I prowled out to the kitchen, raided the fridge, and came back with everything I could find. I fed her little bites while we chatted.
We talked and chatted and took turns feeding each other until it was time to get ready for dancing. I asked Veronica if I could wear the dress Jeremy made for me. "Oh yes," she said. "I was hoping you would."
Milonga is a confusing word. It refers to a style of Argentine tango dancing, the type of music one would milonga to, and also is the name of the dance event where one engages in all the tango dancing. The last use of the word is thus the tango equivalent of a sock hop. So if someone says, "There's a milonga tonight," what they mean is that there is an event tonight at which tango music will be played and people will be dancing.
The milonga that night was hosted by one of the local dance instructors. It was held at a restaurant with a beautiful wood floor, small, but perfect for dancing. We arrived and Veronica guided me to the back where the dance was being held. I could have followed the music. When we arrived, there were about six couples dancing to a traditional tune. There were another fifteen or so people
hanging around talking. It was an intimate setting for an intimate group.
Veronica introduced me to several people. I tried to remember their names. Then she asked me to dance. We moved onto the dance floor, I stepped into her arms, and pressed my forehead to her cheek. We began to dance.
"Are we the only gay couple here?" I asked her.
"I think so," she said quietly. "But I see Sue dancing with Amy. Sue is the hostess tonight. She'll want to dance with you. We aren't out of place. Would you care if we were?"
"No, I just like to know the score."
She offered a complicated move at me. I handled it with grace, which left me feeling good.
"Does everyone know we're a couple?"
"I don't know everyone here," she said. "Of those I know, some know I'm gay. Some don't. I suspect more of them will figure it out when I kiss you during the cortina."
The song ended and another began right away. Veronica started inviting more moves, some of them complicated, so there wasn't time to talk. I had to focus on my dancing. Then I realized she kept asking for the same move a lot, and always when my back was facing a certain direction.
"Are you showing off my ass?" I asked her.
"Sure am," she said. "Making sure you get more dance partners, that's all."
"Liar," I said.
She giggled, but then she invited the same move again. I added a little flourish to it, then back led enough to enter into a leg wrap on her. I moved my calf up and down hers briefly before I let her put me back on my feet.
"Cheeky girl."
The song ended and the music turned into the cortina. The cortina is a segment of music that isn't danceable. It's used to break the music up typically into tiny sets of three or four songs. You dance one set with the same partner but when the cortina comes, it's time to change partners.
True to her word, dead in the middle of the dance floor, Veronica began kissing me. I threw myself into it. We didn't come up for air until the next song started. This set was a milonga, which has a different flavor than tango. Veronica held onto me and we began to dance.
She kissed me briefly during the next cortina, too, but then she drew me to the side of the dance floor. We both were immediately asked to dance. Veronica didn't even glance at me but accepted her offer from a tall, well-dressed man. Another man was at my elbow, waiting for my response. "Sure."
He was okay, but I would rather have danced with Veronica. At the cortina, I thanked him.
Veronica was still on the dance floor, this time with someone else. A woman came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. "I'd love to."
She was better than Veronica. I couldn't tell at first, as she kept it simple, but then she began asking for more complicated steps, and at least for a while, I kept up. When she invited a leg wrap, I gave her one. The song ended. She settled me properly on my feet then introduced herself. "I'm Sue, the hostess tonight."
"Shane."
"Who is your instructor?" she asked me.
"Oh, I just get the occasional lesson here and there when I can." I said. "None here in town though."
We danced through to the cortina, and I had a lovely time. I wasn't as good a dancer as she was, but I think she had a nice time, too. I thanked her at the cortina, and she asked me if it were okay to ask me to dance again later. I told her I'd like that.
That pretty much defined the evening. I would dance with Veronica, then she would give me up for a few partners before hunting me down and dancing with me again. It was a lovely night, but my feet were ready to be done before the music was.
* * *
The rest of the weekend was equally lovely. Monday morning arrived way too soon.
I acquitted myself quite well all week. Veronica seemed pleased and proud of me. Bob and Brian fought over me when they both had simultaneous appointments with clients and asked Veronica if they could bring me along to take their photos.
On Wednesday I received an email from my mother. "Please join us for dinner on Saturday."
I asked Veronica, "Would you like to meet my parents? You'd have to be my boss, not my lover."
"I'd love to meet your parents."
I called Mom and asked her if she and Dad would like to meet my boss. "You understand she's not just my boss, she's a friend and is mentoring me about business." So I got an invitation for Veronica to dinner.
We finished out the work week. Veronica invited me to a party some friends of hers were holding Saturday. "We can have dinner with your parents, chat for a while, then show up to the party about nine." She grinned. "You can wear a blouse over your corset, can't you?"
"No," I said. "I don't hug my father, but I hug my mother, and she'll feel it. But I can try changing in the car afterwards."
Saturday while we were getting dressed, Veronica asked me, "Do your parents drink?"
"Yes," I said.
I dressed in one of my conservative dresses. When Veronica saw it she just sighed. She dug through her closet for a while before picking a black skirt, white blouse, and black scarf. She looked a lot like she did the night we met. But my parents wouldn't find anything wrong.
We arrived right at six. Veronica shook hands with Mom, Dad and Matt, then handed my father a bottle of wine. "I didn't know what we were having, so I hope a California red is okay."
I kept at least three feet between Veronica and me at all times. I was so nervous I was afraid I might reach out and start holding her hand if I got any closer. My folks didn't notice anything wrong.
Dinner was a roast. I helped Mom in the kitchen to get everything to the table. Dad and Veronica stayed in the living room, discussing business. Then we all sat down. Mom put Veronica next to me, and I spent the meal with my leg pressed against hers under the table where no one would see.
"Your daughter is brilliant," Veronica said once everyone had been served. "The entire office is very impressed." She told the story about the photographs, leaving out the racier bits.
"We're very proud of her," my mother said. "We were so worried the last couple of years. She seemed so troubled. She stopped dating, stopped having any social life at all. She skipped her prom and all the other senior activities. She continued to get good grades, but she was clearly troubled about something. And then she had that accident last summer and we thought we'd lost her."
Mom paused, wiping a tear from her eye. "But after that, she bounced back. She's gotten straight A's so far at school, and I understand she started dating again."
"I don't think you should be dating," Dad told me. "Focus on school. You have plenty of time to meet guys after college."
"Now dear," Mom said. "We talked about this. Dating is an important ritual in college. We're not sending Shane to a prestigious college and then telling her she isn't to make any connections."
"What's this about last summer?" Veronica asked quietly. "If you don't mind my asking."
"I got hit by a train," I told her. "I'll tell you about it sometime. I came out of it okay."
"She was in a coma for a week," Matt said. "You should have seen her. She was black and blue everywhere."
She looked over at me. "You almost died? You'd think that's something you would have told me."
"I'm sorry, Boss," I told her. "I didn't think it was important."
She got the point and let it drop but instead asked my Dad about his job. Conversation remained on safer topics, and I decided I'd dodged a bullet.
We had a nice time with my parents, bidding them goodbye at eight. Veronica was quiet as we drove away. I climbed into the back seat and began to wrestle myself out of the dreaded conservative dress and into the corset. I managed to get everything mainly in the right place before climbing back into the front again.
Veronica leered at me briefly. I was spilling out of the bodice and would until she'd tightened my laces for me. I couldn't reach them.
We had a nice time at the party. Veronica introduced me openly as her lover, then took great glee in telling embarrassing stories about how muc
h fun she was having "training me in." I probably would have been angry with her, except even I found the stories funny. And hot.
But all that good will ended in the car.
"Start talking," she said sternly.
"About what?" I asked innocently. "I had a nice time tonight."
"Do not be coy with me. Your mother said some interesting things about you, things I think should have come up in our conversations by now."
"It was an accident. I lived. End of story."
"How does someone get hit by a train?"
We pulled into the parking garage, so I ignored the question as we took the elevator to the apartment. I kept hoping she'd drop it.
"Spill. NOW."
"I'm not crazy."
"What? I never said you were crazy. Where is that coming from?"
"I'm not suicidal." I added.
"Where is this coming from? You are the happiest person I've ever met. Of course you're not suicidal."
"That's not happiness," I said, trying to deflect her. "It's sexual satiation."
"Being cheeky isn't going to distract me," she said. "SPILL."
"I got hit by a train downtown, okay? I lived. Someone else died. If I say anything else, it's going to make you think I'm crazy. I don't want to sound crazy."
She stared at me. "Fine, we'll come back to you ALMOST DYING. What was going on for TWO YEARS that your parents were worried about you? Why did you stop dating?"
"Teenage angst," I told her. "Everyone goes through it. It was a phase. I got over it."
"Teenage angst my ass. You lied to me."
"I did not! When did I lie to you?"
"You lied to me when you told me you only figured out this past fall that you were gay. You've known for two years, haven't you?"
"No." I said. "I didn't figure it out until Janice and Kelly taped me up and teased me for an hour and a half, and all I wanted was for Janice to kiss me. That's when I figured it out, but even then I was in denial for several more weeks. I was dating boys until that. Did I tell you why they tied me up?"
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