by Layne Harper
“Call in sick,” he continues, and my body begs me to do it. His half-smile appears again, revealing just a hint of his dimple.
“I can’t. I turned in my notice. It will look bad.”
He drops to his knees, giving me a chance to scurry out of arm’s reach.
“Wouldn’t want Michael thinking badly of you?” he says with an edge to his voice.
“Stop it.” I turn around and walk out of the bathroom.
He follows me, flopping on my bed.
“Go put your bowl up. If I come home from a long day at work and have sugar ants in my apartment, I’ll murder you.”
“My assistant can take care of my dishes.”
I can tell he’s teasing me. He gets a certain gleam in his eye, but it doesn’t change the fact that the bowl needs to find the sink. I don’t have a dishwasher but I can hand-wash it later. “Aaron, I’m losing my patience. Will you pretty please with sugary children’s cereal on top go take care of your dishes?”
“Fine,” he says, climbing off my bed, “but you better not get dressed while I’m gone.” He walks to the bathroom and then walks through my bedroom with the bowl in hand and disappears through the door.
He continues talking, “Grace runs my businesses and my life, especially while I was learning to love myself again. I gave her a couple of weeks off. And then for some reason, Jude doesn’t like me visiting her at college, so my mom and Grace have been traveling a bunch to see her. Tomorrow, I’m finally getting my right-hand woman back.”
I pull a purple dress out of the closet as he walks back into the bedroom, flopping on my bed with his hands behind his head. “Wear that one.” He motions to the material in my hands. “And no panties. I’ll take you to lunch.”
Hanging the dress back up, I grab a thong out of my drawer and make a big show of putting it on. “Wouldn’t want to go commando around Michael.” I don’t know why I say it. Michael is never in the office.
A dark cloud passes over Aaron’s face, and our playful mood is gone. “Don’t make me jealous.”
I walk over to where he’s lying and start at his feet, crawling up his body with a pause at his crotch. I run my tongue over the denim, feeling him harden. Sitting up, I press my crotch against him and lean down, kissing his lips. At first, he doesn’t respond. Kissing him deeper, I know I’m playing with fire.
Finally, he pulls me down so my naked chest is pressed against his clothed one. We kiss like this for probably longer than we should. When his hands begin to travel into my thong, I sit up, breaking our union.
“I’m sorry for being a jerk. You have no one to be jealous of.” I move off of him, standing next to my bed. I work my panties down my legs and then bend over, tucking them in the pocket of his jeans.
“What about Tripp?” he asks as he reaches between my legs, running his finger through my folds. His eyes are wide, and a small grin plays on his lips.
“Friend, or maybe former friend now. We haven’t talked since Saturday,” I reply, trying my hardest to stay unaffected. “You’re the only one who makes me wet.”
Turning my back to him, I walk to my dresser for a fresh pair of panties when I hear him slap the mattress. “Ah . . . come on, MK. You can’t kiss me like that, give me your panties, talk dirty, and then not let me fuck you. It’s against the rules.”
I open the drawer and take out another thong. “What rules?”
“The ones that I’m making up as we go along.”
I can’t believe we’ve had as much sex as we’ve had in the last day and I’m still so hot for this man, even when he’s maddening.
He unbuttons his pants and opens his fly wide. He pulls out his penis and begins to stroke it. His fist wraps around the base and slides to the tip.
“Come on, Aaron. Don’t do this,” I plead. My eyes check the clock on my bedside table. It’s seven-fifty. I have to get dressed, blow-dry my hair, and have Aaron fight traffic in his sports car to get me to work. Any other time, I’d be late, but I just submitted my notice.
He continues to pleasure himself. My tongue darts over my lips, moistening them, and Aaron’s smile says he knows he has me.
“You like this, sweetheart?” He pauses for a moment, spitting on his hand. “My dick’s this hard for you.”
Oh God . . .
“I know you like what you see. You can’t take your eyes off of it.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out my panties, bringing them to his nose. “God, you smell like heaven, MK.”
My mind is losing the battle to my body. At this point, I have to find relief. My thighs burn and I’m flushed. My nipples are hard peaks and tingling with desire.
Moisture appears on the head of his penis. He massages it around. “You’re the sexist thing I’ve ever seen. Standing there naked except for a scrap of silk. Your nipples are pointing straight at my dick. Brown hair, even darker because it’s wet draped over one shoulder. And your eyes, sweetheart, your eyes see my soul, and you still want me.” He pumps harder making his dick redder—angrier.
My body wins, and I slide my hand into my panties. Jeez, what he does to me. I spread the moisture around with my finger, and a little moan escapes from my lips.
“Come make love to me, MK. I can smell how much you want to. Prove how much you need me.”
I tug the elastic of my panties and they give way easily. So mad for him, I don’t remember closing the gap between us, but I’m on top of him, riding his dick. I quit thinking and just let my body feel.
He applies tight pressure to my nipples. Still sore from yesterday, it’s painful but in the best kind of way. “That’s it, MK,” he yells. “Show me I’m yours.”
I’m wild. My body moves in such a primitive, uncontrolled way that I don’t recognize myself. It’s so much more than the act of intercourse. I find the hidden chamber inside my heart—the one I’d always thought might exist but I’d never explored—and it bursts open, recognizing Aaron as the one who has always held the map to its location.
I tremble as I rock back and forth, not wanting it to end and thinking that if I don’t stop coming soon, I might die. Everything tingles—my face, my hands, my feet.
“Oh fuck,” Aaron screams as he grips my hips tightly. I become his tool as he moves me to achieve his own orgasm. His eyes roll back in his head, and his mouth hangs open as if in a silent scream.
Tears stream down my face, and I don’t bother trying to hide them. There’s something in that moment we share—an awareness. And I know in that instant he is my one. I don’t care what Google says about him or why he went to rehab. His career and the pressures that accompany it, I’ll deal with. He’s mine to keep because what I realize is that once the chamber in my heart is opened it can never be closed and only responds to him—even if he one day rejects me.
He uses his thumb to wipe away my tears. His features are soft, and his lazy smile tells me he’s happy also. “Sweetheart, I never want to see tears fall from your eyes again.”
He’s still inside me as I lie down on his chest. I’m crying so hard that it’s hard for me to catch my breath. “Thank you for making me feel alive.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he replies as he taps a beat on my back. It feels heavenly and my eyes droop, begging for a nap.
The only sounds in my apartment are the white noise from the heater kicking on and off. My body feels as if it’s made of jelly and Aaron seems just as relaxed. We’re back in bliss, and I don’t want to leave.
Then reality hits.
“I’m late for work.” I sigh.
“So?” he replies, changing the beat he’s tapping to a slower one.
“So, I have to get up and get dressed, and you can’t distract. That’s one of my rules.”
He laughs. “You don’t get to make the rules.”
I sit up, smiling like a lovesick puppy as the last tear finally escapes my eye and playfully slap his chest. “I do too. Sexist.”
He flips us so he’s on top. “That
’s right, sweetheart. I make the rules, and our new rule is you’re here for my pleasure. Whenever I’m feeling randy . . .” He rubs his now flaccid dick on my thigh. “. . . you just spread your pretty little legs and I’ll have my way with you.”
“As if,” I scoff, raising my lip.
“Isn’t that why you’re quitting your job?” He’s got a teasing glint in his eye again.
“I quit my job so I can focus on my passion. . .”
Before I can add “NoPinkCaddy” his eyebrow cocks, and he rubs his dick on my leg again.
“Pig,” I call him and push him off. He doesn’t fight me.
In the bathroom, I do the best I can to clean myself and do something with my now almost dried hair. No luck. I comb it back into a ponytail and use a headband to secure my bangs.
When I exit the bathroom, Aaron’s buttoned his pants again and smiles like the Cheshire cat. “Are you proud of yourself for making me late?” I ask.
“Very.” He pauses for a second, and in a much more serious tone, he asks, “Why did you cry?”
I take the third pair of thongs out of my drawer. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“In rehab, they taught us not to bottle up our emotions. I learned to talk about everything. Do you want to know why I think you cried?”
My panties slide up my legs. “Why? Dare I ask?” My bravado is false as my heart tightens in my chest. I don’t know if I’m ready to vocalize my feelings.
I secure my bra and slide my dress over my head while he’s silent—watching me, studying me.
Realizing that this zipper needs a helper, I walk over to the edge of the bed. He stands draping my hair over my shoulder. As he pulls the zipper up, he whispers in my ear, his warm breath bathing my ragged soul. “Because you just realized you’re in love with me.” He kisses the nape of my neck. “Don’t worry. I feel the same.”
Deer in headlights . . . That’s a good analogy. My stomach does a strange flip and my chest forgets to expand for air. This man who has only been a part of my life for such a short time has stolen any sense of good judgement I have. It’s as if we’re on an out-of-control train we can’t get off. But the scary thing is, I’m not sure if I want to. My life before meeting Aaron in Eddy’s Bar feels dead. When I picture myself, I look like a robot version of Mary Kay Landry. He’s given me the confidence to chase my dream and made me feel like I’m able to have it all. Aaron Emerson or Johnny Knite, whomever he is, has introduced me to a new and better version of myself, and it makes me want him even more.
Stepping out of his reach, I grab knee-high black boots from my closet and announce, “Let’s see how fast your little red car really goes.”
Aaron smirks and shakes his head as he slaps my behind and follows me out the door.
Chapter Ten
MK Landry @NoPinkCaddy
Boy is making me late for work for all the best sorts of reasons. #GooeyFeelings
“What time shall I pick you up for a nooner?” He raises his eyebrows, and I roll my eyes.
“No lunch today. I’m forty-five minutes late for work. Your nooner just happened earlier than you thought.”
“Can I come up?” He leans towards me and winks.
“No!” A look of horror drops my mouth wide open, and my eyes bug out. “That’s all I need—for the menopausal ladies in my office to know I’m banging a rock star.”
“In love with,” he corrects.
“Bye, Aaron.” I go to get out of the car, but when I pull the latch the door doesn’t open.
His hand travels up my leg under the skirt of my dress. “We still have to discuss our weekend plans.”
I slap at it. “Meet the band. Meet your daughter and sister. What’s left?”
“My security.” He smiles and grabs my breast. “They’re going to love you.”
“Can we discuss this after work?” I pause. “Or better yet, text me.”
“Just want you to be thinking what you’re going to cook for all of us.” My shoulders tense so much I think they brush my ears. “I sent them the video on how to make Gumbo. They’re all in.”
I’m beyond exasperated. “Unlock the door, Aaron.” I try the handle again with no luck.
“I’ve been thinking . . .” He leans his seat back and rests his head on his hands.
My arms fly up as I turn to look at him. “Fuck, how long is this going to take?”
“Well, see, you could’ve met me for lunch and we could’ve discussed all of this, but since you’re bagging on me, we have to do it now.”
I flop back against the seat in complete defeat. This is beyond rude. I turned in my resignation letter. These next two weeks I need to be squeaky clean not absurdly late. I’d die if this got back to my grandmother or parents.
“I’ve been trying out sweetheart on you. I like it. It works.” He grabs my limp hand and kisses it. “I want a nickname, sweetheart.”
I sigh. “Can I think of something while I’m at work?”
The door unlocks with a click. “Absolutely . . . wait for it . . . sweetheart.”
I lean over, giving him a kiss on his stubbly cheek, and bolt out of the car before he can trap or spring more surprises on me.
And of course the one morning I’m an hour late, I spot a man sitting in front of my desk. I beg the universe for it not to be Michael, but I looked at the back of his head for three years and then every Sunday since we broke up. I’d recognize that perfectly trimmed mane anywhere. The ladies are unusually quiet and avoiding making eye contact with me. This is bad.
Head up.
Shoulders straight.
I walk into my office with confidence.
“Hello Michael,” I greet my former lover as I open the bottom drawer of my desk and drop my bag in.
“MK.” He checks his twenty-thousand-dollar watch which he hasn’t worked a day in his life for. “Thanks for showing up today.”
“I’m sorry.” I sit down behind my desk and hit the on button on my archaic work computer. “Something came up. I plan on not taking lunch.”
He holds up one hand. “No worries.” He smirks. “I got your resignation letter.”
Scooting my rolling chair under the desk, I lean forward on the hard faux-wood surface. “Yes. As I said in my letter. Thank you for this—”
He cuts me off as he leans forward, mirroring my stance by resting his arms on my desk. “Let’s cut to the chase. My father hired you as a favor to your parents. You’ve done a half-assed job at best and we’ve discussed firing you for years. So pack your personal items and leave. We’ll pay you your two weeks just so there’s no bad blood between our families.”
God, and to think I could have ever had sex with this disgusting man. I see red as my stomach twists into an ugly knot, and my heart begins to race. Standing up, I cross my arms over my chest. “You pompous little prick. I’ve worked my ass off for this company. You’ve wanted me gone for years because your wife can’t stand the fact that you work with your ex-girlfriend. Don’t think I miss her hate glares at church.”
“Ha!” He throws his head back and pretends to laugh. “She’s a wonderful God-fearing woman, unlike you.” He sneers. “We’ve seen your blog. Get out MK.”
I open the desk drawer, snatching up my bag. I shove the few personal things I have into it: two framed pictures, my phone-charging cord, an office sweater, fancy paperclips that I purchased, and a stapler because I need one at home. “And to think I was willing to bend over backwards to make this transition easy for you. All I can say is good luck.”
I turn and pick up a stack of papers, shoving them at him. “These employees need to be fired today before the next pay cycle.” I grab our U.S. Department of Labor binder and scoot it across the desk. “Since I was gifted this job, I’ve started that binder to document all of our correspondence with the government over employee issues. There are three outstanding complaints which need years of justification so you aren’t fined.” Smiling sweetly, I say, “I’m sure it won’t be a problem
for you to find all the supporting materials you need.”
I gesture to my computer. “Also, it’s benefit renewal season. You won’t believe all the emails that need your attention. You know the difference between our HMO and PPO plan? Of course you don’t, because you play golf all day and collect a paycheck earned on the backs of these fine women who run the company for you and your dad.”
His face falls as his eyes grow wide staring at the papers and the four-inch-thick binder. “Wait, MK . . .”
“Fuck you,” I reply as I push my chair in. “I’m a half-ass employee, so I’m sure you’ll be able to easily figure all of this out, COO. I mean, if I can do it, surely it will be easy as pie for you.”
I walk out of my office and into the cube farm where my post-menopausal ladies work. I love them all. They’ve made the last seven years of my life and this miserable job bearable.
“Girls,” I call. They all stop what they’re doing and turn in my direction. “Michael says he’s terminating me early because I’ve been a marginal employee.”
A collective gasp is heard in the room. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Michael just outside of my door looking like he has a sour stomach.
My hand goes to my hip. “Raise your hands if your paycheck has ever been late.”
Their eyes are wide, and they stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
My blood boils. Quitting this job has been my dream since I accepted it, and getting to tell off my pompous ex-boyfriend is just an added cherry on top. I’m going to milk this moment for all it’s worth.
My bag slides off my shoulder, and I rest it at my feet. “Do your benefits suck?”
I turn toward the lady standing closest to me. “Jill, does your health insurance cover your cancer drugs?”
The curly-grey-haired woman nods and replies, “All my girlfriends think I’m so lucky that I don’t have to pay out of pocket for them.”
“Do you know why you’ve got such good health insurance?” I pause while she nods. “It’s because I spent months interviewing different providers and then negotiating using every skill I have to ensure we did right by you.”