The Game-Kirsten Backhard

by Shawnte Borris

  If Kirsten had to pick any one of my friends, I was glad that it had been Drew. He had been my best friend since I started college. I knew that he truly loved her, and he had just made a dumbass mistake. We would just have to keep an eye on her and not let her become the old lady with tons of cats. Okay, maybe not the cat part, but with Kirsten, I know there will be hell to pay. Exactly what hell that would be, I didn’t know yet, but something was brewing. I could feel it.

  Somehow, this week just felt different each time I walked into my new office. I felt as if I was walking taller. I felt a real sense of accomplishment. When I first arrived in Chicago, I had found three beautiful flower arrangements—one from the firm, welcoming me into my new role, one from my parents, saying they couldn’t have been prouder of me even though they wished I had told them myself, and one from Drew. It was the most beautiful arrangement.

  Kirsten,

  I’m so proud of you.

  xo,

  Drew

  At first, I hadn’t known what to think when I read his card. How did he know? For a minute, I’d let my heart think that those words came from his heart, but then my brain had remembered him and that bitch. I’d sent him a quick text.

  Me: Thanks for the flowers, but you shouldn’t have.

  Drew: You’re welcome.

  I’d been glad that he’d kept it short and simple. I still didn’t think that I could handle a full-out conversation with him or even an apology. I wouldn’t say that I was upset anymore. I was just really pissed off.

  I’d been up pretty much for the last two days, working on a deal for the office. I was beginning to see double. My inner ego was demanding to get out. In other words, I had woken up with a raging hard-on. My lady jam this morning was “Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke, and yes, this was totally the mood I was in since I’d opened my eyes.

  I decided to go with the whole sexy-librarian look today. I curled my hair, so I could later put it up with a pencil. Yes, a good old pencil. I created smoke eyes and put on red lipstick. I slipped into my cream sleeveless blouse and a dark gray pencil skirt, which fell just below my knees. I topped it off with my glasses and killer fuck-me black shoes. Today is totally going to kick ass!

  The Chicago office had hired a new guy, Rick. He was smoking hot. I was guessing he was around twenty-nine. He stood roughly at six-two, and I’d say he was two hundred pounds of hot, lean muscle. Oh, and his ass. He usually wore his tailored pants a little too tight. Shit, I’m not one to complain though. His hair was a dark blond, and he had green eyes. Something told me that when he got turned-on, his eyes would sparkle blue. I so wanna make those eyes sparkle blue. But my mother had raised me right, and I never mixed business with pleasure…well, at the office anyway.

  When I got to my office, I plugged in my iPod and played my lady jam while I waited for my computer to warm up, so I could check my messages.

  As I was pulling out some files from the cabinet, I heard, “Good morning, Kirsten. Coffee?”

  God, I love the sound of that voice. I want that voice in my bed every morning. I want him stroking his fingers alongside my body when I wake up. I want him wearing those tight pants, so I can see the outlining of his arousal. No, scratch that. I want a sheet wrapped around his waist, outlining his peek-a-boo arousal.

  Lost in my delicious thoughts of Rick, I said, “I would like my coffee extra hot and your tongue down my throat.”

  “Pardon me?” replied Rick.

  Shit, shit, shit. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I slowly looked behind me toward my office door, and there he was, standing with a smile on his face. Crap! Mr. Hot Pants totally heard what I said.

  “Morning, Rick. I’m sorry I missed your question. I was wrapped up in thinking about some files I want my hands on.” Seriously? Now is the time for filter mouth to kick in. “I mean, I’m getting to know…” I cleared my throat. “Files that I’m working on.”

  Rick let out a chuckle. “Kirsten, I’m heading to grab a coffee from downstairs. May I get you a cup? How do you want it?”

  Does he mean, how do I want him, or how do I want my coffee? “I take it with cream and light sugar, please.” Because I’ll totally tell him how I want it—right here, right now, bent over my desk with him going deep.

  As his tight sexy ass left my office, I heard him laughing. This was the difference between working with men verses women. Men laughed this shit off while women, on the other hand, stomped their feet and talked about it at the water cooler. Then, four hours and three emails later, they would say how much of a bitch I was. Seriously, ladies, if you would pick your granny panties out of your ass, you’d discover how much easier it is to make friends with the opposite sex. Stop being afraid of the penis! It does not bite. Well, the ones with a piercing do, but they only bite in all the right places.

  I was sitting in my chair, contemplating which client I wanted to confront first, when the morning sun hit me right in my face. I walked over to the window to close the blinds, and then I realized it was broken. Being a town girl and all, I decided to fix it. I took off my fuck-me shoes and placed them neatly by the end of the couch. I hiked up my skirt and balanced my right leg on the arm of the couch and my left leg on the back of it. I wasn’t quite able to reach it, so I leaned up on my tippy toes.

  “What the heck are you doing? You could get hurt.”

  Great. Rick is here. I wondered if my skirt was hiked up enough, so he could see my garter.

  Rick ranted while he put the coffees on my desk.

  “I’m fine, Rick. No worries. I just need to cut this string and re-string it through the blinds. Then, all shall be good again.” I looked toward my desk. “Can you grab me the scissors, please? It’s in the first drawer on the right.”

  He handed me the scissors, and I got to work. This time, my balancing act wasn’t so gracious. As I started to wobble over, Rick placed his hands on my lower thighs to secure me in place.

  Well, if an incident report needed to be filled out, I would just say he was securing me in place. In my journal, it would say that Rick placed his hands on my calves and slowly slid them up my legs as I pressed my hands on the window. His fingers traced the top of my stockings, and slowly…

  When I went to get off the couch, I caught my toe on something, and down I went. Before I even had time to recover, Rick grabbed me, cradling me in his arms. So romantic! As Rick looked down at me, he totally caught me breathing him in.

  “I’m glad I got here when I did,” he said.

  “Me, too,” I said, looking into those dreamy eyes.

  “Are you okay, Kirsten? You look a little flushed.”

  “Uh…” I shook my head. “I’m okay. You can put me down now.”

  “If you insist,” joked Rick.

  No, I definitely do not insist. I want to finish where my mind left off.

  Rick grabbed his coffee on his way out of my office. “Later,” he called out.

  Lying on the couch, I closed my eyes and breathed in his smell that was left behind. What? I have to get these thoughts out of my head.

  “Ms. Backhard, I’m just reminding you that your plane is leaving in two hours,” my try-on-for-size assistant, Jennifer, announced.

  “Thanks, Jennifer, but you have to stop calling me that. Kirsten will work just fine,” I replied.

  “Yes, ma’am,” responded the now annoying assistant. “Just to let you know, there has been a change. Mr. Wildburg will not be able to pick you up as planned. He has a meeting that is running longer than expected. Instead, he is sending his son to meet you at the airport.”

  “His son?” I let out a breath. Great. “Why don’t you see if you can find a car service instead?”

  “I already suggested that, but Mr. Wildburg insisted that his son picks you up. He said he feels awful that you fit him into your schedule, and he isn’t able to pick you up personally.”

  “Well, does this kid have a name or anything? Or will he be holding up a sign?” I asked.

  “His name is Ma
ximilian.”

  Who the hell names their kid Maximilian these days?

  “And he’ll be wearing a white T-shirt,” said Jennifer.

  What the hell? What kind of description is that? A white T-shirt? “I’m just finishing up, so please ask the company car to be ready downstairs in fifteen,” I ordered.

  Thank God the flight had been short. I had about bitch-slapped the kid behind me for kicking my seat the whole time. Why do parents let their kids do that? If it were up to me, all children would be strapped and gagged on flights.

  I turned on my electronics and waited for them to come to life when my phone chirped with a new message. I didn’t recognize the number.

  Unknown: I’m here. Meet you outside. I’m in a yellow Jeep.

  Wow, this guy has class.

  As I was waiting for my luggage to arrive, someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

  “Hey, you Kirsten?”

  First, this asswipe texted me to go to him, and now, he’s poking me like he’s in a hurry. I think not. “Why? Is your yellow Jeep feeling lonely?” I snarled.

  “Nope. No one around here wears shoes like that, so I assume you’re Kirsten. I’m Max. My dad sent me to come for you.”

  I turned around to glare at him because no one should insult my fuck-me shoes. “I’m…I’m…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  The man in front of me was at least six-three with messy, floppy blond hair and wondrous gray eyes. He was built like a surfer champion. Lean muscles were visible through his tight white T-shirt, and his legs were formed. He was definitely my definition of sex with legs.

  “Speechless, I see.” Max laughed.

  “Sorry. I was expecting Reid, that’s all. I’m Kirsten.” I quickly recovered as I put out my hand to shake his long fingers. What would those fingers feel like wrapped around my ass?

  “Yeah, about that…my dad says he’s sorry. I’m supposed to take you up to the main house for dinner, and then you are staying in the pool house.”

  “The pool house? No, I’m staying at The Lakeside, like I normally do.”

  “Yeah, my mom probably had something to do with that,” Max said, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I changed the sheets after Jessamyn left. Or was it Jojo?” the asswipe gloated.

  I stood a little taller.

  “Relax, Kirsten. I’m kidding. My mom insisted you come for dinner. She wants to see you, and she told my father that it’s improper to invite a young lady and make her stay in a hotel room. Hence, the pool house,” Max said.

  “I see.” Cocky. I like cocky. “Where will you be staying?” I asked with one eyebrow lifted.

  “That depends on how open you are,” Max said with a smile.

  “Oh, I’m open,” I said while grabbing my pink bag from the luggage claim. Yes, definitely open.

  As I was attaching my laptop case to my luggage, Max yelled, “You coming?”

  You have no idea.

  Max lifted my luggage into his Jeep.

  I asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  “I train injured dolphins and teach them how to settle back into the wild,” he said with a completely straight face.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” I replied back in amazement.

  “Nah, I’m just messing with ya.” Max opened the door for me. “I’m actually still in school. This is my last year at Yale. I’m taking an extra year on master of advanced management.”

  “Taking over for Reid?”

  “One day.” Max smiled.

  Max shut the door, walked around the front of the Jeep, and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “A little far from school, aren’t we?” I asked as he started the car.

  “It’s spring break. My mom would kill me if I didn’t come home to visit. She misses me very much. My mom thinks that once I graduate, I’ll get married the next day, and I’ll never come home to visit,” replied Max.

  “Are you?”

  “Am I what?” Max looked confused.

  “Getting married?” I asked.

  Max laughed hard. “No, not anytime soon. I’m, as they say, testing the waters.” He then looked over, checked out my legs, and moved his eyes all the way up my body. His index finger reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. Leaning forward, he whispered, “It’s gonna get windy.” Then, he peeled out of the parking lot.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “What about me?” I looked at him curiously.

  “Boyfriend, lover, pool boy?”

  “Nope to all the above.” I smiled. “I like to sample the water that is being offered.” Just then, my phone started ringing, and I grabbed it out of my purse and glanced down at the screen. Who’s calling me? Shit, it’s my mother.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “I wouldn’t want to be rude,” I replied.

  “Nah, go ahead. My dad let me know how busy you are and how you fit him into your…” Max paused, looking at me. “Tight schedule.”

  I answered my phone on the last ring. “Kirsten speaking.”

  “Is that any way to answer your phone? What if I was an associate calling you?”

  “Mom, I have caller ID.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Well, you should still use proper manners and say hello.”

  “Hello, Mom. What’s up?”

  “What is up? What is up? I will tell you what is up. How could you possibly think of getting a baby from a sperm bar? A sperm bar? What are you thinking?” yelled my mother.

  “First of all, Mother, it is called a sperm bank, not a sperm bar.” I cannot believe I am having this conversation right now. “And where did you get this information from?”

  Max looked over at me, smirking.

  “Why does it matter where I heard it from? What will people think?” cried my mother.

  “Fuck! Mom, no one is gonna care where or how I get a baby.” I want to crawl into a hole and die. “Mom, you wouldn’t by any chance be talking to Marie, would you? Is that where all this came from? Did she tell you I’m planning to go to a sperm bank? Or did she tell you I should think about going to a sperm bank?”

  “That’s not the point, Kirsten. The point is that it’s time for you to settle down and think about having a family. You need to be more like Marie,” my mom lectured.

  “Like Marie? My sister, Marie? The one who wears yoga pants and ponytails everywhere and has a kid attached to her hip? No, thanks. Don’t get me wrong, Mom. I love Marie, but I’d rather not schedule in sex night.”

  “Kirsten Jemma Backhard!” scolded my mother.

  Max started laughing. I was sure he had heard my mother.

  He’s sexy, and he has a sexy laugh. I’m gonna rub that one out later.

  “Look, Mom, I’m out of town on business. Before you ask, no, it is not sperm bank business. I’m actually with a client right now, so I should probably go.”

  “Kirsten, you made me talk about sperm bars in front of your client?” my mom asked, humiliated.

  “No, you called me to talk about sperm banks. I just got you to talk about sex.” Now, I was laughing. “I love you, Mom, and say hi to Dad for me when he gets home,” I said before hanging up.

  I looked over to Max. “Sorry about that. My mom thinks it’s time for me to settle down.”

  “Settle down?” asked Max. “Aren’t you a little young for that? I mean, you couldn’t be more than twenty-eight, right?”

  I think I just fell in love with you, Max. “Yeah, but my mom wants a houseful of grandchildren.”

  “I understand. My mom is slowly starting to think that way. Don’t be surprised if she leaves us alone together at some point during dinner.”

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and she’ll ask you to show me the way to the pool house,” I said in my most seductive voice.

  “Oh, I’m counting on that.” Max smirked.

  “Kirsten, darling, how wonderful it is to see you again,” said Mrs. Wildburg. “I so hope you don’t mind that I got my h
usband to cancel your suite, so you could stay here with us.”

  “Thank you. It’s very kind of you,” I said sincerely.

  “I just couldn’t imagine being on the road all the time and staying in those stuffy hotel rooms all by myself.” She glanced over to Max. “At least, this way, you won’t be left to entertain yourself.” Mrs. Wildburg smiled as she put her arms around me. “Let’s all go in, shall we?”

  She led the way into the house and guided me into the living room.

  “I’m just going to check on the roast. You do eat meat, don’t you, my dear?” Mrs. Wildburg asked.

  “Yes, nothing says home cooking like a big slab of meat,” I joked.

  “Wonderful. Max, why don’t you get our beautiful guest a beverage? I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Wildburg excused herself.

  I noticed Max eye-fucking me as he was leaning against the doorway. How his mother did not slap him on the side of the head was beyond me. I couldn’t help but giggle. Not only did he think I was twenty-eight, which was laughable, but he obviously thought I was hot, too.

  “Kirsten?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Let me give you a tour of the house before drinks. By the time we’re done, my dad should be home from work.”

  “It depends,” I said seductively.

  “Depends on what?” Max sauntered over to me.

  “Depends on what rooms you want to show me.”

  “I’m thinking the game room. Maybe we could get in a quick game of pool before dinner.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m ready to handle a long stick and a bunch of balls before dinner.”

  “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “If you must.” I started walking toward the hallway when Max’s hand landed firmly on my ass.

  “This way,” he said while passing in front of me.

  “Your break,” he gestured.

  “I’m not sure how well I can play in these shoes. Maybe I should take them off.”

  Max cleared his throat. “I think you’ll be fine. Do you need me to show you how to break?”