“Now you don’t have to be,” I replied.
“And I guess we don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he said, looking back, gesturing towards the pool house.
“I guess not,” I chimed back.
“Now we just have to worry about ourselves,” Anthony said with a smile.
“Not just ourselves,” I said, looking back as well. But, I wasn’t looking back at the pool house. I was looking back at my own house.
Anthony shook his head in agreement, then stared down at the ground for a moment before picking up stride again and walking around to his driver’s side door.
“We’ll work this out,” he said, sliding into his car. “But, right now, things need to settle… I’ll text you soon, from an unlocked number. So, you’ll have a way to reach me, if you need me.”
I blushed when Anthony said that last part, and he sensed it.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a laugh. “I mean… you know what I mean.” Now we sounded like two young teenagers, coyly flirting.
“I know,” I said, smiling. “Talk to you soon.”
Anthony pulled his car door shut, started his car, and drove off. I stood in the driveway and watched for a few seconds, just to make sure he got out of there safely. The way things had gone all day, I wouldn’t have been surprised if a group of ninjas jumped out of nowhere and hijacked his car, or if a beam of light surrounded him and hoisted him up to an alien spaceship. Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility at this point.
Luckily, there were no killer monkeys or tidal waves, and Anthony drove off without incident. I turned to make my own when home, when I heard my phone buzzing. It was safe and sound, back where it belonged (in my purse, and in my possession), and it was back to being active.
I pulled the thing out and saw that I’d missed a call from Mom—and according to my screen it was the first I’d missed from her that day, which didn’t add up to me. I knew the past several calls hadn’t been from her, but I was sure that a couple earlier ones were.
I scrolled back through my missed calls and found an unfamiliar phone number on my call log. And icon that looked like a cassette tape was lit up beside it, indicating that I had a voicemail from whoever called from that number. After the day I’d had so far, I didn’t need to wait until I was inside to listen to the message, so I tapped the icon to listen… And, what I heard was the strangest thing I’d heard all day day, since I first woke up in the morning.
Chapter 7
Hi, Kirby, the voice on my voicemail said. This is Michelle Robins, from Dessert Oasis. You submitted an application with us a couple weeks ago, and I’m calling to schedule an interview. We have a few positions opening up soon, and we’re looking to fill them immediately. Please get back to me as soon as you can.
Michelle Robins went on to repeat her name and affiliation and provide her phone number. It took me a moment to place the silly name of the establishment she worked for, but, when I did, I remembered that Dessert Oasis was the dessert shop I’d applied to the day I ran into Anthony and we had our impromptu date. I’d almost completely forgotten that I applied there, and I’d basically given up any hope of getting a job there—or anywhere.
But, lo and behold, I’d been called in for an interview! If I’d had Anthony’s number, I probably would have called him to express my excitement. But, then again, I probably would have felt stupid about it afterward. Who calls a billionaire genius to tell them they’ve landed an interview at a pie-slinging’ shop? That’s a little underwhelming, isn’t it?
Still, I knew Anthony would probably be excited by the news and would have appreciated hearing it—and, maybe that’s the greater reason I was glad I couldn’t tell him yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up for me. I didn’t have the job yet, and didn’t want to let him down if I didn’t get it. Letting myself down was hard enough. The more people who become involved, the harder it gets—and, I already knew there were was at least one other person who had to be involved.
I had to tell Mom that Dessert Oasis called. I simply had to. She was the one who’d sent me on this wild goose chase of a job hunt, and she was the one I lied to and told I was looking for a job when, really, I was out and about wasting my time. She’d be pleased to learn I landed an interview, and telling her about Michelle’s call would be far more pleasant and bearable than telling her about anything else that recently happened.
But, before I could call anyone or tell anyone anything, I had to get back into my house first. I was still standing outside as I was going over all of this in my head, and the professional pool guy who was working next door—Luke—was starting to look at me suspiciously again. I wondered if he had any idea what was going on. In his line of work, I’m sure he’d seen a lot in his day, but had he seen anything like the shit that just went down in London’s pool house? Granted, he hadn’t seen that either, but, still, I wondered.
I smiled at look and nodded in his direction as I made my way to my kitchen door. He kind of just held the pool skimmer and looked at me before tossing his own smile back and getting on with his work.
Once I was back inside my house, I searched the fridge for something tasty to eat. Much to my dismay, Mom had thrown away most of the leftovers from the party already—but not because they were getting old and still. They were just too decadent and too tempting.
I found a container of cheese that Dad must have hidden, pulled it out, and tossed a hunk into my mouth. I grabbed a pen a piece of paper from the utility drawer, then sat down at the table. I pressed “Send” on my cell phone and waited as it dialed Dessert Oasis’ number.
“Dessert Oasis,” the woman who answered sang out.
“Hi,” I greeted. “May I please talk to Michelle Robins?”
“Can I ask who’s calling?” the woman asked.
“Kirby Miller,” I replied. “I’m returning her call. She called me earlier today, to set up an interview.”
“Just a minute,” the woman responded. Her voice was soft and sweet, much like the desserts at Dessert Oasis. If I was hired there, would I be expected to talk like that?
I picked up my pen and started doodling on the sheet of paper while I waited for Michelle to come on the line. About a minute later, I finally heard her voice.
“Hi Kirby,” she said, just as pleasantly as the woman who’d spoken to me before her. “It’s Michelle… Can you come in Wednesday afternoon for an interview?”
She had cut right to the chase. I liked that.
“Sure,” I said, without pause. I didn’t have to think long about my schedule. I knew I was free all day Wednesday, and all day every other day, for that matter.
“What time’s good for you?” Michelle asked.
“My schedule is pretty clear that day,” I said, trying to be both modest and accommodating.
“How about 3 p.m. then?” Michelle asked. “That’s actually a slow time for us—right before the evening rush—and we should have plenty of time to talk then… How does that sound?”
“Sounds perfect,” I answered.
I wrote down the day and time of my interview on the piece of paper in front of me, closed the conversation with Michelle politely, then smiled contently. I couldn’t believe how excited I was to be called in for an interview at a dessert shop. It was as if I’d won the lottery or something.
I folded the piece of paper and took it with me to my room, where I set it on my nightstand, next to my charging tablet. I was home alone now, and it would still be a few more hours until my parents got back home. I thought about returning Mom’s call and telling her about my upcoming interview with Dessert Oasis, but I ultimately decided against it. I’d have plenty of time to talk to her later—right now, what I needed was time to myself. I’d just been through quite an ordeal, after all, and I still hadn’t processed it all.
I removed my restrictive clothing and put on something a little more comfortable before retiring to my bed. Once I was down on my down comforter, I started reviewing the event
s of the morning and afternoon in my head. I still couldn’t get over how forgiving and generous Anthony had been, and how he’d managed to completely turn the situation with London around. I couldn’t believe how we’d so narrowly escaped London’s blackmail attempts, and how London had so narrowly escaped ending up in the slammer.There was so much I couldn’t believe, and so many thoughts kept rushing in and out of my head. But, through it all, one thought kept reoccurring—and, thankfully, it was a good one. Despite all the ugliness and beauty that had come from my day so far, my mind kept returning to the more raw thoughts, to the thoughts of me an Anthony, together in his office. Of all the things I couldn’t believe, I couldn’t believe I’d had such great sex that morning.
Less than a few hours earlier I’d been writhing and contorted in passion. I’d had a handsome, powerful man inside me, and we’d found the peak of pleasure together. I didn’t want to lose thoughts of that in thoughts of everything else that happened, and, as I called to mind the particulars of our encounter, I felt my hand, inadvertently, trailing over my body.
First, I lightly grazed my breasts. My nipples were a little hard and perky, and I imagined Anthony’s soft lips wrapped around them, gently sucking. The mere thought of his mouth on me sent shivers all over my body, and I let my hand continue to trace them.
The next thing I knew, my hand was buried between my legs, and my fingers were playfully dancing around my most sensitive regions, where Anthony’s fingers, mouth, and cock had been earlier. I hadn’t showered since being with him, and I imagined that some of his sweat and saliva was still on my body, like a territorial marking, telling the rest of the world that I was his and he was mine.
I continued to play with myself for a little longer, and, trust me, it didn’t take me long to work myself to orgasm. All the frustration, excitement, longing, and recollection helped me reach my conclusion rather quickly, and rather powerfully. My legs shuddered when I made myself cum, and, as they did, I felt as if something had been released from my body, like a geyser had erupted, or a pimple had been popped.
As I laid there, catching my breath and collecting my thoughts, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. My hand was still in my pants, but I was too tired and relaxed to move it, and, quite frankly, I didn’t want to. I’d had a long, difficult day, and I deserved the comfort.
Chapter 8
“Kirby?” Mom shouted. She wasn’t screaming or hollering, just talking loudly. “Where are you, honey?”
I heard Mom twisting my doorknob and had just enough time to remove my hand from my pants before she entered. I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping, but the light coming through my windows was still bright, and my fingers were still wet and slippery.
“How did today go?” Mom asked, walking into my room as if she had free range. I ran my fingers over my shirt, hoping to wipe away any lingering scent of my self-gratification.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up in bed. I was a little dazed. I’d just woken up, mind you. “I got a call from Dessert Oasis, in town. They want me to come in for an interview on Wednesday.”
I was so proud of what I had to tell Mom, but she just looked at me as if I were crazy. ‘That’s good,” she said, hawing over her words. “But what happened at Parker & Swift this morning? I tried calling you earlier, but there was no answer.”
Shit! So much had gone on that I wasn’t supposed to tell my parents about that I’d forgotten to mention what I was supposed to tell them about.
“Oh,” I said, pulling my story back together. “Mr. Swift had an urgent last-minute appointment this morning and had to reschedule… I don’t know when I’ll get to see him again, but he said he’d have someone call me.”
Just then, it hit me—what if London took Anthony up on his job offer? What would my mom think about him getting a job at Parker & Swift when I didn’t get one? Surely that wouldn’t sit well with her! That was just another crack in the story Anthony and I would have to tend to.
“I see,” Mom said, somewhat crestfallen. She glanced at the nightstand beside me and saw my folded-up scrap of paper, the one I’d written my interview information on. The words “Dessert Oasis” were obvious on it, and I’d drawn a hot, steaming pie next to it.
“Well go ahead and pursue this shop job,” Mom said, still eyeing the paper. “And, if you hear back from Mr. Swift, you can take it from there.”
I wanted to sit up and stand up to Mom, to tell her that I didn’t need her giving me career advice, but, instead, I leaned back and nodded.
“Alright,” I said. “But I’m not going to hold my breath.” I couldn’t tell Mom, but I knew that Anthony would be in contact with me soon, though it wouldn’t be about work or anything related to Parker & Swift. And, even if it was, I could never take a job with the company, for a variety of reasons, none of which I could tell Mom.
Even before any of this all started, I never wanted to work in the advertising industry, especially not at a firm as demanding as the one Dad worked at. Now, given all that had happened over the past couple weeks, I had even more reason to not want to work there. I didn’t want to be under the employ of my lover, whether or not he remained my lover, and didn’t want to work in the same building as London, should he take Anthony up on his offer.
“I thought maybe we all could go out to dinner tonight,” Mom said, changing the subject. She looked me over again, examining the clothes I was wearing, then turned to the outfit I’d word earlier and discarded on the bench at the foot of my bed. “Get dressed and ready. Your father should be home soon. When he gets here, we’ll head out for something… How about sushi?”
Sushi, for the most part, was a good compromise between Mom’s health kick and my craving for real food. It was hip, tasty, and fresh, and it was an appealing meal option.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up again. “I’ll put on what I wore earlier.”
Mom shook her head in the affirmative. She’d obviously selected my wardrobe when she stared at my outfit a moment earlier, and she seemed pleased that I picked up on her cue.
“I’m gonna go freshen up too,” Mom said, turning back toward my door. “Just come down when you’re ready. Dad should be here in a half-hour or so.”
As soon as Mom left the room, I got out of bed and collected my change of clothing. I quickly changed before heading to the bathroom, washing my hands and face, and reapplying a bit of makeup.
By the time I was done in the bathroom, I could hear Mom on the phone downstairs. From the sound of things, she was making reservations at Ramaka, a premiere sushi joint on the outskirts of town. Now that I knew where she wanted to dine, I understood why she wanted me dressed in my version of a power outfit.
I could tell that Dad wasn’t home yet, and I didn’t want to deal with Mom one-on-one again just yet. So, before heading downstairs, I went back to my room, just to drag things out a little.
Sure enough, it was a good thing that I went back there. I’d left my cell phone in my oversized purse beside my bed, and I wanted to transfer it into the bag I’d be taking with me. As soon as I pulled my phone from my big bag, it started buzzing, and I looked down at it. I’d just received a text message from an unfamiliar number—but, of course, I knew who it was from.
It’s A, the message read. Just checking in and giving you my number. Long day, sorry I couldn’t touch base sooner. How are you?
I started swiping back, and, just as I did, I heard Dad’s car pull up in the driveway, which made sense. Both men worked at the same place, and both had probably shared the same long day, which they both were now free from.
Doing okay, I texted back. Going out for sushi with parents now. Will text you later.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed back with another text from Anthony. K, it read. I’ll be waiting. :)
I threw my phone in my smaller purse, along with my wallet (which I took with me because it contained my ID, which I might need if my parents were liberal enough to allow me to order a drink with my dinner) and a tube o
f lip gloss. I walked out of my room, shut the door behind me, and went downstairs to meet up with my parents.
Dad smiled when he saw me walk into the room. Mom was with him, and it was evident that she’d already explained things to him and talked his ear off about my day. I’d heard their conversation tapering off as I came downstairs, and I was glad that Dad didn’t keep it going when I entered.
“Ready for Ramaka?” he asked as I approached him.
“Sure am,” I answered.
Dad held out his arm, like a gentleman waiting to escort a lady. I walked over to him, and put my arm in his, playing my part in his gesture.
“Maybe on the way back, we can stop for a treat,” Mom added. “Perhaps dessert at Dessert Oasis?”
Dad and I rolled our eyes as the three of us left the house and walked to his Volvo.
Chapter 9
Ramaka is a totally upscale, high-end eatery that really knows sushi. The get the freshest fish in town, and they treat it like the essential elements of artwork. Their dishes are not only delicious; they’re also delightful to look at, and every plate they send out is sure to please each and every of your senses.
The fact that Mom was able to land a last-minute reservation was a bit of a shock to me, but I figured she had some sort of connection “on the inside.” Mom was that type of person, you see. She always knew someone somewhere and tried to work her connections to get what she wanted—and, tonight, fortunately for us, what she wanted was an awesome meal that I was totally down for.
The girl who greeted us at the podium in the entryway was super sleek and sexy. She could have been a model for any one of Dad’s high-profile ad campaigns—you know the ones, where the girls are super-thin and kinda look like prepubescent boys a little.
Once Mom checked in with her, the girl led us to a table near the center of the place, which was filled with a wide variety of people, from suit-clad businessmen with their wives, secretaries, and/or mistresses to ultra-hip hipsters wearing seasonally inappropriate sweaters, canvas belts, and plastic-rimmed glasses.
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