by Roya Carmen
Abigail and I share a barely-there smile. She knows it’s a lot more than a flirty dynamic. But I’ve yet to confess to Claudia and Mischa. I don’t know if I ever will.
“I know there’s more going on.” Claudia pouts. “You’re a real bore, Gretchen. I thought we were friends.”
Well, now I just feel bad. I vow to let her in on my secret as soon as I can.
It’s Wednesday morning, and I’m running late. I’ve slept through my alarm, waking forty minutes past my usual time. As a result, the morning routine is rushed, and I’m not able to properly do my hair. Instead, I pull it up in a messy bun, my go-to style for such occasions.
I’m still flustered as I hurry down the entry hall. Rosetta is all smiles, and is a vision in a pretty soft pink suit.
“Wow, you look great,” I gush. “Nice suit.”
“You like?” she chirps. “It’s Valentino.”
“Really?” Who knew Rosetta could afford a Valentino suit. How much is Weston paying her? Those are about five grand. I know this because I read it in a fashion magazine at the hair salon.
My heart skips a beat when I finally arrive at my work station. Four shiny black boxes are on my desk, awaiting me, each one bigger than the other. The trademark Chanel logos leave no questions.
He’s bought me Chanel. I’m not completely surprised.
I burst with excitement as I pry open the first box, the smallest one. It’s a beautiful silver bracelet, adorned with diamond studded stars and the trademark double C logo. It’s both delicate and fabulous.
Oh my…
I’m too curious to stop and try it on. I need to know what’s in the other boxes. I rip into the second box, not so daintily, and discover a classic Chanel handbag, black and quilted, silver chain and a trademark logo clasp.
Oh my God.
This bag must be worth about five thousand dollars. I can’t believe he’s done this. It’s too much.
I tear into the third box, and as expected, it’s a pair of heels, beautiful black satin sandals. I study the pretty pearl laced straps, and the logos at the back of the heels. They are officially the most beautiful shoes I own.
I’m quick to kick off my heels and slip them on to make sure they fit well. And they do. They are glass slippers, and I am Cinderella.
The largest box sits conspicuously on my desk, and of course, I can’t help myself. Vulture on dead carcass. That’s me.
My breath catches when I see the dress. It has a long flowing black chiffon skirt and a ruffled bustier top. A slim black belt with a silver Chanel logo clasp ties the whole thing together. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, and I know it must have cost a fortune.
The man has spent thousands on me, just because. He can’t be doing that. It’s not right. I can’t accept these gifts.
But I really, really want to accept them. They’re all so perfect.
But really, I can’t accept them.
27
I slip off the pretty sandals, and dash to his office.
He smiles when he sees me. He’s on a call, and I take a seat on the loveseat not far away. I’d usually excuse myself in such a situation, but I really need to speak with him.
“Listen, Doug. I need to let you go,” he says into his phone. “I’ll call you later.”
I wait patiently, arms crossed.
He swivels round in his chair, very playfully. “Why, what brings you here, so early in the morning, Miss Morris?”
“I got your gifts,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
His brows are a straight line. “And are they to your liking?”
“They’re beautiful,” I admit. “They’re perfect.”
His smile reappears. “I’m glad. I’m glad you like them. They were chosen with great care.”
My heart sinks. He’s just trying to be nice after all. Why am I making such a big deal about it all?
Ten thousand dollars, give or take. That’s why.
“Unfortunately, I can’t accept them, Weston.”
He blows out a long breath. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not a whore,” I scoff. “You spank me, you bite me, and you tie me up. You feel me up. I dance for you, I strip for you, I jerk off for you. And you buy me Chanel. You’re not my sugar daddy. You’re my boss.”
Damnit.
He lets out another audible sigh. I can hear it straight across the room. “Why, why… must you make everything so difficult, Grasshopper?”
“I don’t know,” I scoff. I’m more upset with myself than I am with him. I really want to keep the shoes. And the dress. And the bag. And the bracelet. Damn me and my morals.
He rises from his chair, and slowly makes his way to me. He sits next to me and takes my hand. “You’re certainly not a whore, Gretchen.”
“Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”
“You’re my employee, but you’re also my friend.” His smile is playful. “My friend with benefits.”
I smile. “But it’s still too much. The Chanel… how much did you spend? Eight grand? Ten grand?”
He grins. “Well, did you know I also bought Rosetta a Valentino suit? Five thousand dollars, give or take. Perhaps she’s a prostitute too.”
I shake my head. He’s got me there. Apparently Miss Rosetta has taken my advice and has gotten a little something for herself. Kudos to her.
I smile. “I guess… in that case… I could… keep them.”
His face lights up. “Yes… and you can wear it all when I take you out to the theatre.”
“Oh… okay.” I’m still reluctant, but the thought of that excites me.
“You’ll be stunning,” he says. “I can’t wait to see you in that dress. Have you tried it on yet?”
“No, I haven’t had the chance.”
“Well, make sure you do, and we’ll have the necessary adjustments made.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
He cocks a brow. “No…”
“You need to take Rosetta to the theatre too,” I point out. “I don’t want any special treatment.”
He bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe not the theatre, but perhaps a very expensive dinner. I’ll make sure she wears her new suit.”
I laugh. “It will be lovely for the both of you.”
He shakes his head, and then studies me for a long beat. A wicked grin traces his lips. “You sure try a man’s patience, Grasshopper,” he teases, “but you’re definitely worth it.”
I hop off his sofa, and bounce away. “I’d like to think so.”
Ethan and his grandmother are on the floor working on a giant puzzle in the living room when I get home. I sneak the four Chanel boxes into the bottom of the front hall closet, and throw a jacket over them. I don’t want Patricia to see them because there’s no way I’m confessing that my boss has just gifted me with ten grand of designer goodies.
“How did it go today?” I ask as I shed my blazer and purse.
“It was great,” Patricia tells me. “We had a great day, didn’t we, Ethan?”
I crouch down and kiss the top of Ethan’s head. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”
“Looks like you have yourself a new beau,” she teases. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone.”
My heart skips a beat. Does she know about Weston? How could she possibly know?
“I saw on the card,” she tells me. “Samuel, is it?”
What?!
“The flowers are on the kitchen table.”
I dash to the kitchen, eager to see.
The bouquet is quite beautiful; lavender roses, mixed with purple and green flowers in a glass vase. I reach for the card nestled in the arrangement, still wondering how it could possibly be.
To Gretchen,
Thank you for the wonderful evening. I hope we have many more.
Yours, Samuel.
How does he know where I live? Did he not listen when I told him I wasn’t ready?
“They’re gorgeous,” Patricia says.
“How long have you being seeing him?”
“I’m not seeing him,” I tell her. “We’re just friends. I met him at the Grief Counseling Group, and we’ve been going for coffee. We went out for dinner once as friends, and I had dinner at his place last weekend. His daughter and Ethan were there. We’re just friends.”
“Well, you might want to tell him that.”
“I thought I’d been clear,” I go on. “I told him I wasn’t ready.”
She reaches for my hand. “It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to move on. It’s been almost three years.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to move on, and I certainly don’t want to do it with Samuel.”
“Not your type?”
“He’s nice… and handsome enough. I just don’t feel a connection.”
“Well, maybe you really aren’t ready,” she says. “You won’t be able to fall for another man until you let Donovan go, Gretchen.”
I think about Weston. I definitely feel the spark with him. Every time he’s near, my whole body stands to attention. Every time he touches me, I melt and crave more. Every time I hear his voice, I want him to tell me everything there is to know about him. I’m curious when I’m around him. I’m eager and excited. “Maybe you’re right.”
I study the flowers again, and I’m left very unsettled, wondering how in the hell Samuel’s gotten a hold of my address.
I’ll definitely need to address this.
But it will have to wait. As soon as Patricia leaves, I’m whipping up macaroni and cheese and salad for dinner. Bath time and a bedtime story will follow. Then I’m slipping into my Chanel, just for a few minutes. Finally, I’ll indulge in a long hot bath and some Netflix.
Tonight’s agenda is too full for a confrontation.
It’s not summertime, but I’m feeling cheerful in my yellow tweed skirt and pink blouse. The yellow fitted cardigan I have on was a birthday gift from Mischa. Thankfully, the woman has amazing taste. It’s accented with beading, yellow ribbon, and pearl buttons. Yellow pointy toe slingbacks complete the outfit, and every now and then I glance down at my feet and admire the pretty bows on them.
No stockings of course. I never wear them. Who needs to be uncomfortable all day? My neck aches on the right side. It’s par for the course when you stare at a screen endlessly for hours. Well, the good thing is I’ve finished all the design concepts, and they are almost ready for presentation. I just need to put what’s on screen into a tangible presentation. I know it’s old-school, but that’s how I roll. There’s no way I’m having Boss Man standing over my shoulder and looking at my laptop screen. I’ve worked much too hard for that.
It’s three o’clock, two more hours until I get to see Ethan. I’ve been going home for lunch lately because I’ve been missing him. I take a break and head to the kitchen to fill my water bottle.
I’m surprised to see Boss Man helping himself to snacks from the refrigerator. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He does live here. I just don’t see him too often. The man is a workaholic, and is usually buried in projects. He has a lot going on, probably a lot more than I do. Rosetta tells me he owns dozens of condo buildings, not to mention his philanthropy work.
“Hey.”
He smiles. “Hello.” He does a double take. “You look fantastic, my own personal ray of sunshine.”
I laugh. “I try.”
“Was that in the job description?” he asks. “Brighten up the room?”
I shake my head.
“Would you like some snacks?”
I glance at the spread on the counter; brie cheese, green grapes, pecan nuts and crackers. It all does look tempting, and I’m suddenly hungry. “Uh… sure. If there’s enough.”
He smiles. “There’s plenty.”
I fill my water bottle.
“Does the dress fit?” he asks.
I turn to him. “It fits like a dream. I slipped it on last night, along with the heels and bracelet. I looked like a princess.”
He fills a large tray. “I bet you did.”
I stand and watch him clean up his work area diligently. I’ve noticed that he’s very methodical, and washes his hands about a hundred times a day. That’s when he’s not squirting hand disinfectant on them. “Are you a germaphobic?”
He smiles. “Busted. Yes.”
I nod. “My mother is too. As a result, I have very good hygiene habits too.”
He laughs. “I love that about you. I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but there it is.”
I blush. “You’re such a weirdo.”
He grabs the tray and heads out. “Follow me.”
I nip at his heels like an eager puppy.
“Mirella had lice once,” he tells me.
“What?!”
He laughs. “She was a kindergarten teacher. It was a work hazard.”
“I bet you weren’t impressed with that.”
He settles the tray on the coffee table. “No, I wasn’t. It was kind of hilarious, looking back though.”
We both take a seat on the loveseat. I help myself to a grape.
He stacks a cracker with cheese and a pecan. “I must have really loved her because I still saw her.”
I help myself too. “If I had lice, would you still spank me?”
“Definitely.”
I smile and pop a cracker with cheese into my mouth. It’s delicious.
We enjoy the food, and the conversation flows smoothly. When I tell him about Samuel and the flowers, he grows concerned.
“It’s nothing to worry about. I can deal with him.”
“Well, let me know if I can help,” he says. And after a beat, he adds. “You’re mine.”
“Why, Mr. Boss Man is quite possessive, isn’t he?”
He smiles. “It’s in the agreement. Exclusivity.”
“True… but I told you, I’m not interested in him that way.”
“No one gets to touch you but me.”
I laugh. “Yes, Sir. Speaking of which…”
A slow smile traces his lips. “Come over here.”
28
I’m there in a flash, right next to him.
He starts off slowly, a finger tracing the buttons of my cardigan. “This is pretty.”
“Thanks, it was a gift from a friend.”
His fingers dance along my collarbone, and he drops soft kisses on my skin. I rake my fingers through his soft hair.
“Undo your buttons for me, sweetie.”
I obey, and hastily work the pearl buttons, all thumbs. He smiles as he watches me. As soon as I’m done, he pulls the cardigan over my shoulders and kisses them. His kiss feels amazing. I could get lost in this moment forever. It’s pure heaven.
He reaches for the hem of my camisole and pulls it up over my breasts. He’s feverish when he jerks my lace bra up, and takes my breast in his mouth. He bites my nipple softly. It’s so good, it’s almost painful. I’m breathless as I reach for his shirt. I pull it from the band of his pants. My hands explore the soft skin of his stomach. He’s ripped, and I long to lick every inch of him. I slither down, and that’s exactly what I do.
He groans loudly, and the next second, he jumps up like a jack-in-the-box. I’m left on the loveseat, aroused and disheveled.
“I’ll be right back.”
I pull myself together again, wondering what could be so urgent.
He’s back in a flash. “I just locked the door. We wouldn’t want Rosetta to walk in on us.”
Damn. This is about to get good. I grab a fistful of his shirt, and pull him down to me. He slides his face against mine, and his stubble scratches my skin just right. We engage in this dance for the longest time, almost kissing but not quite. I want his lips on mine. My mouth reaches for his.
“Uh-uh,” he says. “No kissing, remember.”
“Forget that,” I scoff. “I want to kiss you.”
He stares at my lips. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
We resume the dance. My insid
es melt as he teases me repeatedly, brushing his lips against mine, and then puling them away. He bites and licks the edges of my jaw, the curves of my collarbone. He’s driving me crazy.
Finally, our lips meet, and he eventually loses his resolve. My mouth opens eagerly for his, and our tongues finally collide. He’s an amazing kisser, just as I’d imagined. It feels a little strange to kiss another man, but it’s wonderful. I feel his kiss in every inch of my body.
Our hands wander and explore. He slips a hand under my skirt and strokes my ass. I desperately want him to go further, but he’s teasing again. I reach for his fly and undo it. I’m quick to wrap my hand around his erection. I steal a glance. He has a beautiful cock, and I want him inside me.
His fingers toy with the lace trim on my panties, teasing.
“Touch me,” I beg.
He slips a skilled finger in my panties and I go wild. He teases and I kind of want to hate him for being so cruel. “Take them off,” I plead.
“I can’t, baby,” he says. “Your rules, sweetie.”
I reach for the band of my panties. “Screw the agreement,” I scoff as I pull them down and slip them over my heels.
A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he watches me intently.
“Touch me,” I beg again. “Please.”
He slides a hand under my skirt. “Well, since you said please.”
He finally touches me the way I really want to be touched. He’s slow and teasing… and perfect. I get a little antsy and I wrap my hand over his. I take control. I need to get off.
His beautiful green eyes study me as I reach that peak, as I lose all control. His gaze never leaves me as I squirm and moan, as I slither and whimper.
“Beautiful,” he says as I come to.
I’m flushed and shy when I finally fall back to earth. I kiss his cheek and reach for him. “You’re still very hard, Mr. Hanson,” I whisper. “Let’s take care of that.”
He smiles in agreement, and I’m happy to return the favor.
Hey Gretchen, How are you?
—