Two Bad Bosses_An MFM Menage Romance

by Sierra Sparks

  “Zara. Zara Coleman.” I swallow loudly after pushing my name out of my mouth. It’s getting harder and harder to talk. There’s something almost intoxicating about his anger. I realize I’m afraid, but knowing his attention is pinpointed at me is causing my heart to flutter. The concoction of feelings I’m going through is confusing and I don’t know how to rationalize my thoughts, currently.

  “Well, Zara Coleman. I’m Samuel Wood.” He says my name like a dirty word – a dirty word whispered between lovers. I take my nails out of my palms and bring my hands together behind my back. They rub together anxiously, not sure where this interaction is going.

  “I know. Ruby told me who you were.” I must sound like a gossip, talking about him with my boss.

  “I hope good things.” I bite my lip to hide a growing smile. She didn’t say anything nice about him and I’m pretty sure he knows that. He seems like the kind of guy who knows exactly how people feel about him and doesn’t give it too much thought.

  “Sure.” He chuckles and my previous fear is dulled. I don’t think he’s mad at me, but he was mad at someone. I’m guessing he won’t tell me, even though I want to know. There’s no way he’ll divulge his emotional state. We’ve only met today and I don’t have any rights over him. But that’s where I want to be – over him in a sexual nature. I roll my shoulders back and tell my mind to keep it clean and a little less corny.

  “Anyway, Zara Coleman. I wanted to ask you a question.” I nod, sure my voice will betray me if I try to use it again. “Are you looking for any extra work?” Extra work. I scrunch my forehead, caught off-guard by his question. I was thinking he might ask for my number, but it would be my luck that the hot guy I’m crazy attracted to would want to maybe offer me a job. I would laugh if I weren’t so disappointed.

  “Um, why?”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d teach me to bake. That cake you and Ruby made was delicious and I’d love to make something equally as delicious for my mother’s birthday. It’s in four weeks. Do you think that would be enough time?” I let my smile from earlier fully escape, warmed by the sweet gesture. How could Ruby think he was completely unfeeling? A son who would learn to bake, so he could make a cake for his mother’s birthday isn’t totally cold. There are people who he loves people. Maybe he just hasn’t found anyone outside of his family to extend that love to yet and how can we blame him for that? I’m kind of in the same boat and I wouldn’t think of myself as ‘cold’ and ‘unfeeling.’

  But I don’t think it matters how sweet I find the gesture, I’m already kind of engaged in a job. It’s the job I’m at right now. Even though she’s been kind of frustrating today, Ruby is the first person to take a chance on me and I don’t want to drop her the first chance I get. Without her, I would have left the city worse off than when I came. And I’d love to spend more time with Sam, but I just –

  “I don’t know. I mean, four weeks would be a good amount of time to learn some baking skills, but, right now, I work for Ruby – or I’m going to start working for her soon – and I don’t want to leave her high and dry. I can’t.” My eyes move between him and the ground, not wanting to commit to either.

  “I promise it won’t take you away from anything you have to do with Ruby. Let’s say three nights a week and weekends – if you need to cancel because you got a gig, feel free to. I want to bake my Mom a cake to remember and I know you’re the woman who can make that happen.” He’s really laying it on thick. The compliment opens me up to the idea a little more, but I’m not ready to fully commit to it.

  “I’m still not sure.” I twist my mouth to the side, knowing I don’t really want to reject his offer.

  “I’ll pay you $50,000. I’ll buy all the ingredients and if you need you cancel any of our sessions, I won’t take it out of your paycheck.” Fifty. Thousand. Dollars? That’s so much money. He just threw that number around like it was nothing. With that amount of money, I could take care of so much at Baker’s Corner. I could use some of it to keep me going here in the city and if I put some of it into the bank, it could work as a way to get the bank to loan me whatever I may need if it doesn’t cover all of the repairs. With that much money, there are literally so many things I could. Maybe I should take the job. Not only would I get a big pay day, I’d be able to spend time around Sam. It doesn’t seem like he’s interested in anything other than my baking skills, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stare at his face while we’re mixing batter. Store it all for my unfulfilled fantasies later.

  “Okay.” The smile Sam graces me with convinces me that this will definitely be worth it. I might get sexually frustrated when he doesn’t return my feelings, but being close to him will hopefully be enough. He’s just so fucking beautiful and the way he talks to me – I love it. He makes everything feel like a euphemism. I’ve never thought about sex so much in a single conversation.

  “Yes! Thank you, Zara. You have no idea how much you’re helping me out.” He extends his hand and I stare at it before realizing he wants me to shake it. I slowly bring my hand up, touching palm to palm, and wrapping my fingers around his hands. He gives me a quick shake before letting go of me. My hand drops to my side, the impression of his palm imprinted on my mine. “It’s a deal.”

  “It’s a deal,” I echo.

  Chapter Nine: Zara

  After Sam shook my hand, he gave me his cell phone number, telling me to call and set up our first lesson, before walking away. It feels like every time he talks to me, he’s gone just as quickly. There was a moment I thought he might not be real – I mean why would God create someone so freaking beautiful – but then I remember that that’s a stupid thought and get mad at myself for being an idiot.

  The night is finally winding down and once again Ruby is missing. She made a short appearance after I spoke with Sam, getting a drink form the bar with some guy, but then she was gone again and there was nothing I could do to get her attention. It’s only nine-thirty – which means there’s another half-hour before we have to leave – but I’m getting worried. We’re supposed to be cleaning up, getting our materials and then leaving. But when Ruby disappears, it would seem she is not findable. I’ve gone throughout the entire venue and called her phone, but I still haven’t located my god damn boss. I start asking around, hoping someone else has seen her.

  “Hey, honey. I heard you were looking for Ruby Gold?” One of the wedding guests approaches me and I nod. Hopefully, they’ve seen her and can point me in the right direction. “She’s already left. She met a guy and they went to some bar. Her words were, ‘I’m going to get wasted.’” Fuck! What am I supposed to do now?

  “That fucking sucks. She was my ride.” I realize my slip in decorum and I’m about to apologize, but the lady just laughs.

  “Oh, don’t even worry about it. A curse now and then is good for the soul.” I like this lady. “I can give you a ride home. It’s no problem,” she offers. I’m about to thank her for being a godsend when a shadow appears in front of me. I turn around and Sam is behind me again.

  “Don’t worry about it Meredith. I can take Zara home.” I don’t move my eyes from him even when Meredith responds.

  “Oh, Sam. Thank you for having me at this lovely wedding. I’ll see you at one of your mother’s brunches. She’s been saying you’d be making an appearance.” It seems Meredith and Sam have a previous relationship. A pretty jovial one in fact.

  “I promise to come one of these days. If only to see you.” Meredith laughs again and then says good night to the two of us. I watch her leave and then turn back to Sam. I don’t know what to say to him, but what I end up blurting out isn’t quite what I wanted.

  “I didn’t agree to go home with you.” He smirks at me and I don’t know what to do with it. It sounds like I don’t want to be anywhere near him when all I want is his body to get even closer to mine. I’m too mixed up to do anything logical, right now.

  “Do you not want a ride?” he asks rather deliberately. He’s obviously teasing, but I
don’t mind so much. It’s akin to flirting and I’ll take what I can get.

  “No, I do. You were just being a little presumptuous is all. Next time ask me first.” I whisper the last part, his eyes drilling into me.

  “Okay, I will.” I think I opened the floor for a next time. What that next time will include isn’t clear, but I’m looking forward to it. We look at one another silently for a few moments before realizing I need to go and get Ruby and my stuff.

  “I have to clean up and then we can go.” Sam motions for me to go ahead and I gather the equipment we brought. It takes me about ten minutes and Sam is where I left him, doing something on his phone. He puts it away when he sees me coming. I get to him and let him know, “I’m done. We can go now.” He nods and I follow him to the parking lot. We stop at the front entrance and I look around for a car. I don’t see anything until a limo pulls up and Sam opens the door. He stands aside, I think for me to get in. I don’t move because I’m simply taken aback that there is a limo I’m supposed to get in. I know it’s a wedding and people go over the top for them, but it’s another level of extraness when the brother of the bride has a limo take him home after everything is over. I point at the open door and ask, “Am I supposed to ride home in that?” Sam looks at me funny.

  “Have you never ridden in a limo before.” I shake my head. “Well, there always has to be a first time.” He puts extra weight on the phrase ‘first time’ which makes my breath catch. He has to know what he’s doing to me – or he wouldn’t be doing it, right? He makes a grand motion for me to enter and I put myself and my stuff into the back seat. Once I’m situated, I look around and I’m fascinated by the space in the car. Limos have always felt like an unnecessary vehicle to me. Especially stretch ones. At least this one isn’t stretch. But, being inside this one, I can understand the appeal. You just feel like you’re in the lap of luxury.

  Sam sits at the opposite end and looks at me expectantly. I’m not sure what he wants, so I ask, “Is everything okay?” He looks deeper into my eyes and something passes between us. I want to believe it’s sexual, but that’s what I’ve been thinking all night only to be proved wrong.

  “What’s your address, Zara?” His voice has gotten lower. I squirm in my seat, overwhelmed by the tension. I give him my address and he turns to the limo driver, relaying the information. The drive back isn’t any less tenuous. At first, I look at him, but I can’t maintain eye contact. I don’t know what he wants from me and even if I did, I’m not sure if I’m ready to give it to him. When he drops me off, he says, “Don’t forget to call or text so we can iron out the details for my lessons.” I nod and then say good night, going to my room to think about tonight.

  Chapter Ten: Sam

  It’s my first baking lesson with Zara, tonight. I’ve been looking forward to it all this week. Ever since our sexually charged limo ride home, she’s been on my mind. It’s crazy. We barely spoke to one another, but the glances she threw my way – she was feeling something, too. At least, I hope she was. I’m not sure how I would deal with her not wanting to be with me which is why I haven’t entertained the thought yet because why jinx yourself like that? If it comes to that then I’ll figure it out, but for now I’ll keep it easy breezy. I don’t like to overthink my relationships with women. It makes me feel muddled.

  Speaking of my relationships, I haven’t really spoken to my family since the wedding. Sarah has been on her honeymoon with Neil, so that hasn’t been too hard, but my Mom – my family just likes to stay in contact, so it’s been weird. She’s called me a few times, but our conversations have been short. I would never completely ignore her, but what we’re doing is as close as we’d get to shutting one another out. Hopefully, this cake will help bridge the gap that’s appeared between us. Or maybe it’s always been there and I just hadn’t noticed.

  I finish up at work and head over to Zara’s apartment. We decided to have our first lesson at her place because it would be easier. She already has all the stuff needed for baking and this way, I can see what I’ll need to buy.

  I get to the apartment and Zara buzzes me up. I knock on the door and she lets me in within seconds. She’s got on a plain white apron, leggings, and a t-shirt. I feel a little overdressed for the occasion because I came straight from work. She looks me up and down, taking in my suit and, now, I know I’m overdressed.

  “I hope you don’t mind getting your stuff dirty…” The look on her face is a mischievous one. It makes me suspect that she might get me dirty on purpose.

  “I don’t mind.” It’s a lie. I’d rather not get flour all over my clothes, but I didn’t have the wherewithal to plan for a messy evening, so I’ll either need to be careful or get over it. Zara gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me and then steps aside to let me in. I walk inside and take a quick look around her studio. The reason why the look is quick is because her apartment is so small. New York real estate is truly a trip. I bet she is paying way too much for the square footage, but what can we do except accept the tradition of overpriced living spaces in the city. It’s like a way of life.

  I take off my jacket, rolling up my sleeves. Zara has grabbed something from the kitchen and she’s bring it over to me. She holds up another apron, presenting it to me. “I thought you might want to wear this. It should help with… containing any mess.” I take it from her, hanging it off my neck and tying it in the back. This one says Teenier Baker and I give Zara a questioning look. “That’s one of the apron I used to wear with my Mom when we would bake together. Hers said Bigger Baker.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing that one?” Her cheeks turn a little pink and I wonder what’s gotten her so bashful.

  “I am. I just…,” she takes her apron off and turns it around, revealing the print. Just like she said, Bigger Baker. “I was a little embarrassed. I didn’t expect to give you the other one.” I walk over and place a light hand on her shoulder.

  “Well, I am more than honored to be your Teenier Baker.” She shakes her head, laughing at me.

  “Whatever. Let’s get started.” She puts the apron back on, this time the print visible. We must look like quite the pair. Me in a suit, wearing an apron that is obviously functioning as an ironic statement on me and Zara actually properly dressed for the task at hand. We go to the kitchen and wash our hands before getting started. Zara has everything we’ll need laid out. I’m already intimidated just looking at all the ingredients. I’ve never baked before and now I’m planning on making a cake from scratch. Why did I think I could do this? My apprehension must be written on my face because Zara tries to cheer me up. “I know it’s looks like a lot, but tonight we’re just going to start with a simple vanilla cake and we’ll just make on tier.” It still sounds like a lot, but the way Zara is talking does reassure me.

  “Okay. What do I have to do?” The ingredients look like they’ve already been measured. I guess I’ll just have to mix?

  “First mix the dry ingredients – minus the sugar – in one bowl and then we’ll move on to the… wet.” She pauses before saying wet which makes me smile. It seems Zara’s a little shy. I’d very much love to open her up, but I’ve got to focus on baking right now. I’m doing this for my Mom, not as some twisted way to get into Zara’s pants. I look at everything laid before me and go for what looks like flour. I dump it into the bowl, but I think I made a mistake because some of it flies out and gets all over Zara and me.

  “Oh!” She jumps a little when the flour gets on her. The particles float in the air for a little bit before also getting all over the table.

  “Damnit! I’m sorry, Zara.” She wipes some of the flour off her face and giggles. Then she brushes some of the flour that got on me off. Her fingers are light on my clothes and I can feel them through the fabric. I want to take her hand and kiss each and every one of her fingers. Instead, I watch her.

  “Don’t worry about it. Baking can get pretty messy. That’s part of the fun.” Her thumb swipes some of the powder off my cheek and I
relax a little. I’m still on a bit edge, but it’s not as intense. We continue with the batter. Zara tells me what to do and you’d think it’d be easy because she has everything so neatly and nicely placed before me. It’s literally a perfectly mapped out step-by-step, but I still have some trouble. I have to do this thing called creaming and when I add the eggs, I get about fifty percent of the eggshell into the bowl and I’m not used to mixing things, so at least twenty-five percent of the food gets on the floor. My hands, body, and face are dirty and I have zero faith in myself. There is no way I can become a better baker in four weeks. This is a lot of dejection for one evening.

  When I’m finally done fucking up the batter, Zara places her pinky finger into it to taste. I want her to offer that finger to me, so I can taste her. Jesus Christ, I need to not be doing this. Zara comments on the taste. “At least it tastes good, but I don’t think it’s worth baking given all the eggshells.” She laughs to herself, not getting bogged down in any of my seriousness. In fact, she’s been pretty pleasant throughout the entire night. I’m the only one being crochety. I shed this grumpy old man thing – a demeanor I’ve been putting on for a while – and smile down at Zara.

  “Thanks for helping me out. As you can see, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” Zara leans against the counter and looks up at me, her head slightly tilted.

  “Well, we’ve got time.” I take a deep breath and tell her why this is so important to me.

  “I want this cake to be perfect. I need it to be. I’m only doing this because my Mom accused me of being selfish.” I hate to think that that is what she thinks of me. I know I sleep around, but I feel like that shouldn’t qualify me as selfish. And maybe my motivations are a little convoluted, but, at least, I’m trying to change. The intentions are good.

  “I don’t think your selfish. I saw the way you were helping your sister at the wedding and you’re doing this for your Mom. You’re not selfish.” Zara shakes her head on the last sentence. She seems to want to believe that I’m a good guy and that makes me want to believe it too.