by A. J. Wynter
Samantha let out a desperate moan as I entered her, and I gasped as I began to move inside her. I covered her hand with mine, roughly pinning it against the cold wood of the table. After all these days of fighting and feuding and flirting at this very table, finally she was really mine, and I was hers.
If you had told me on the day I met Samantha Doyle, not all that long ago, that I would eventually fall for her, that I would let her into my mind, let her drive me insane with need for her, I would have never believed it. But here I was. Here I was with this very same woman, making love to her, tangling my fingers in her dark hair and running my hands over her breasts, listening to her sigh underneath me.
Just when I felt like I was starting to come close, Samantha flipped me over and got on top of me. I groaned as she rode me harder, and then faster. The sight of her moving over me, her body illuminated by the candlelight and throwing all sorts of scandalous shadows across the wall, was a sight I wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.
I brought my fingers down to Samantha and she moaned, still riding me with a vengeance. I felt her coming undone around me and I gasped at the sensation, throwing my head back until all I could see was the falling snow from out the window.
“I’m getting close,” I said, pleading her to continue.
“Hm…” Samantha said, running her hands across my stomach. “I’ve gotten all I need from you.” She smiled mischievously. “I could just stop here.”
I sat up in a single motion and pinned Samantha down underneath me. “I don’t think so,” I said, and she grinned.
I buried my face in her neck and kept moving inside her until I finished with a groan of pleasure. Samantha sighed as I rolled off her, and we spent what felt like an eternity staring up at the ceiling in joyous disbelief.
Chapter 6
It had been two days.
The power, thank god, was restored sometime in the early hours of the morning, so we were able to put together the materials for the report and send them to our investors on time. The morning after had been fairly pleasant, and even with the sun up and the power back, it still seemed like we were living in a different universe.
The two days that followed our all-nighter were strange and exciting. Samantha and I waited for the snow to get cleared and found different ways to occupy our time. Netflix marathon, sex, a game of paper football, sex, an old twister board we found in the back room that led to (you guessed it) more sex. We continued sleeping on the pull-out bed and sustained ourselves with food that was left in the breakroom. We went through Sabryna’s leftover pad Thai and Cassidy’s stash of protein bars. It wasn’t that bad. It was a bizarre, emotional whirlwind of a two-day slumber party, and every minute I spent with Samantha managed to in some way surprise me.
We had emailed our employees some assignments to work on while it was still unsafe to travel to the office. After waking up next to Samantha for the second time, we looked outside to see the roads had been salted and cars were beginning to cautiously venture out into the street. It was time to go home, and we could feel it.
“So,” Samantha said, as we cleaned up the mess we had made from our two days of camping out. “I think I’m going to call a cab.”
“Me too,” I said. “Samantha?”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“What now?”
Samantha and I looked at each other, frozen in the moment. There are some loves that only work in worlds like our snow-covered office, landscapes where only the two of you exist with no interference from the outside world. What if what Samantha and I had was one of them?
“I don’t know, Johnathan,” Samantha said, looking down at her briefcase sadly. “Maybe this was a mistake. I mean, I don’t know if I could ever feel right about dating you if you made a decision that hurt my employees…you get that, right?”
I nodded. “And I hope you know that I’m not changing my mind just because we slept together.” The formalized tone I presented when I said the words left me with an ache of guilt in my chest.
“Of course not,” Samantha said.
“Samantha, I…” I started, swallowing my pride. “I really, really, like you, and I know it took longer than maybe you would like, and that it’s complicated, but I would really like to—”
“I don’t know, Johnathan,” Samantha said matter-of-factly, and I felt my heart sink. “I have to think things over.”
“I understand,” I said, as I pushed the pull-out bed back into a sofa. “So, I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days? For the next meeting?”
“Yeah,” Samantha said, and gave me a smile that didn’t glow nearly as bright as the ones I had seen from her before. She kissed me on the cheek and went downstairs to wait for her taxi. “See you soon, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound upset as she walked out.
I watched Samantha walk out to meet her taxi from the office window. The pristine glow of the freshly fallen snow had faded, replaced with a mess of grayish slush and salt. The magic world where Samantha and I had finally reconciled our differences had melted with the snow, and I was afraid it would never return.
***
FIVE DAYS LATER
I decided to take my lunch break at Melodie’s Café, a tiny restaurant nestled in the space next to our towering office building. Melodie’s existed in a strange place…it was a mom and pop that had been there since the 1940s, but they loved trying out the kinds of strange and trendy foods the young people of Seattle craved. It was the only place in town where you could order a sushi burrito and a cronut while eating next to a jukebox that had been in the same place for half a century.
I usually avoided Melodie’s at peak times because of the crowds, but because of the stress of the previous week, I had been nursing an awful craving for one of their bacon-avocado burgers that couldn’t be put off any longer. I opened the door and walked in as the bell on the door echoed across the entryway. Sure enough, the place was packed, filled with families and groups of work friends trying to squeeze in a quick bite before going back to the grind. I scanned the room for a seat, thinking I might be out of luck until I saw a seat open at the lunch counter.
I walked over and took a seat, grabbing one of the menus so I could scan its neon-printed, greasy-fingerprinted glory.
“What can I get for you sir?” a cute waitress with a pixie cut asked, smiling as she scanned me up and down.
“A coke and the bacon-avocado burger and um…a side a cheese fries would be great too.”
“Coming right up,” she said, smiling down at the name engraved on my briefcase. “…Mr. Torver.”
“Thanks,” I said, and amused myself by scrolling through old texts on my phone.
“Torver!” said a deep, yet withered voice to my right. “You’re not Johnathan Torver, are you? Of the Torver Group?”
“Yes,” I said, shaking the man’s hand. “And you are?”
“Oh,” the man said, as if he was offended that I did not know him as he knew me. “I’m Sam Tiffany. I work for the Wordsworth Company. Been there for years.”
“Oh!” I said, suddenly flustered. “Sam. Of course,” I lied.
The man let out a gasping laugh and patted my arm. “Don’t worry son, I know you’re a busy man.” Sam Tiffany looked as if he was nearing eighty, and had a few wisps of dark gray hair left that were combed neatly around the back of his head. You could tell he used to be tall, probably over six feet, but his back had grown old, leaving him perennially hunched over. He had kind eyes and wore work clothes that looked like he bought them in the eighties, worn down in a comfortable way that on the elderly is even a little bit charming.
“Have you ever had one of these sushi burritos, Johnathan?” Sam said, pointing a shaking finger at the menu. “I mean, I’ve just gotten used to sushi, but now it’s shaped like a burrito? And technically, isn’t that just one very large sushi roll, I mean, when you really think about it?”
I laughed. “You’re a wise man, Mr. Tiffany…and no, I hav
en’t. I like to keep my sushi and my burritos separate.”
“That’s why you’re the one in charge of the company, young man,” Sam said, stirring the bowl of grits in front of him. “You have good, old-fashioned sense. You’re not like these other businessmen taking crazy risks and betting on impossible ideas. You keep things simple and practical, at least, that’s what I’ve heard from Ms. Doyle.”
I swallowed down a bite of my burger. “Thanks,” I mumbled awkwardly. “How long have you been working at Wordsworth?”
“Since around 1963,” Mr. Tiffany said, “Long before you were born.”
“Wow,” I said, already developing an affection for this strange man I had just met at a restaurant counter. “That’s over fifty years.”
“You bet,” Sam said with a sneaky smile. “I got that job right out of college, and I’ve been there ever since. Wordsworth is a part of me now. They were there for me as I built a career and became a man, they paid me enough money to send both my daughters to good colleges, and Samantha supported me through my wife’s illness a few years back.” He looked directly at me with a serious sort of twinkle in his eye. “They’re as good as you get these days, and I appreciate that you’re helping us out.”
I smiled weakly at him, guilt gnawing at my insides. “Of course,” I said. I picked at the fries on my plate, and I could still feel the kindness of Mr. Tiffany’s gaze burning into the side of my head. Samantha was right. I didn’t have employees like him, men and women who had given their lives to a company, intertwined its growth with their own. To have people join my company who were like Sam Tiffany, who had loyalty and experience and faith in us…that might be worth the extra cost.
“Hey, I’ve got to go,” I told Mr. Tiffany, abandoning half my uneaten burger on my plate. “It was nice to meet you sir, and thanks for everything.” I shook his hand excitedly.
“Thanks for what?” he asked.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve been trying to make a decision for a while, and I think you might have just helped me make up my mind.”
“Really?” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Then, why have you got to run off so fast?”
“There’s someone I’m really excited to tell,” I said, grinning shamelessly as I ran out the door to my car, the sound of the bell on the café door echoing off behind me.
***
Since there wasn’t much work for Samantha to do at the office right now, I figured she would be at home. I called Sabryna and got her address from the company files, and within minutes I was speeding down the highway to her house.
I drummed my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as I drove along. As much as I hated to admit it, I had been going crazy. I could barely focus in the office — everything in the building had memories of Samantha and I lingering around it. I saw myself kissing her neck when I saw the conference room table, and I saw us slow dancing across the room as I walked to my office. She was everywhere, and I needed her back.
She wouldn’t take me back.
I was no idiot. I had done dozens of business negotiations before, and I knew what it looked like when someone felt you were too complicated to be worth their time. I wasn’t Samantha’s type…she had always thought I was too rich, too spoiled, too arrogant…but I didn’t care. I loved her, and I wanted her. I knew she would never agree to date me seriously, but I wanted her respect and her approval. I finally understood the meaning of what she had been trying to defend to me all this time, and for some reason, I was feeling tough enough to go admit it to her.
Samantha lived in a tiny, yet prim, colonial on the edge of the suburbs, in a well-to-do neighborhood. Her car was parked in the driveway lined with neatly-trimmed hedges, so I assumed she was at home. I took a deep breath and let my head rest on the steering wheel. A strange feeling came over me when I realized I had never done this before.
I had never swallowed my pride and admitted I was wrong. Not until now. And especially after what felt like Samantha’s hint at an eventual rejection.
I walked up to the front steps with my hands in my pockets, imagining what she would think when she saw me standing outside her door. It wasn’t too late. I could get in the car and turn around. I could…
I winced as a pressed the doorbell.
I heard the sound of floorboards creaking and looked up to see Samantha Doyle crack the door a foot, and then open it the rest of the way.
“Johnathan,” she said, looking at me with surprise. She was dressed for a day of working from home, but she was still as cute as ever. She wore gray yoga pants with a sailor striped tank top and had her dark hair up in a loose bun.
“Samantha,” I said, looking up at her cautiously. “I’m not here to ask if you want to be with me again. It’s okay. I get it. But—” I sighed. “I did decide today that I’m not going to lay off your employees, and I know how much it’s been stressing out, and…well, I just thought you should be the first to know.”
Samantha just laughed. “I do want to be with you, Johnathan.”
“What?” I said confusedly. “Did you even hear what I said about your employees?”
Samantha sat down on her front steps and practically giggled. “Of course I did,” she said as I sat down beside her. “And I’m thankful for it, really. But what on earth changed your mind?”
“I had a burger with Sam Tiffany,” I confessed.
Samantha shook her head, beaming. “Of course,” she said. “Even someone as soulless as you couldn’t lay that man off.”
“Hey!” I said, elbowing her. “So, were you serious…about dating me? About giving me a chance?”
Samantha snuggled up to me and sighed. “Well,” she said. “I realized that being someone who cares about the people she works with means I have to learn to trust them…” she giggled. “…Even if initially, they kind of seem like douchebags.”
I shook my head and laughed. “That can’t be easy.”
Samantha looked at me and smiled. “It’s a lot easier when you fall for them.”
She kissed me, and somehow, I already knew that many years later, as an old man looking back on my life, on all my negotiations and deals and dollars, that this, this one kiss on a front step on a cold day, this would be my greatest accomplishment.
Epilogue
Samantha and I debated when exactly we were going to drop the bombshell on our employees—the unbelievable news that their incessantly bickering bosses had apparently fallen in love. We decided to show up to the annual Christmas kick-off party together, and let our employees gradually get accustomed to the idea.
“Well,” Mr. Tiffany said, chortling as he saw us share a quick, experimental kiss under a branch of mistletoe. “Looks like this acquisition went over even better than any of us thought!”
I blushed and Samantha laughed, putting her arm around me. It was the Torver Group’s annual Christmas kickoff party, which was held annually during the first week of December, and the first of a busy month of holiday events for the company. The office was filled with sparkling lights, champagne flutes, and a string quartet playing familiar holiday tunes. Samantha was wearing a dazzling cranberry-red dress with heels, and I wore my white dress shirt and black waistcoat. Things seemed close to perfect. We were keeping all of Samantha’s employees—she had announced the news to them as soon as I told her, and they were obviously relieved. The tension between our two companies had faded, and I smiled at our employees mingling together as if nothing had ever divided them. Wordsworth was a part of the Torver Group now, and I knew that they were going to bring us even more success than I could have ever dreamed of. The world was finally at peace.
“Um, Johnathan?” Kirk said, looking at me nervously. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I looked at Kirk with confusion as he pulled me away from Samantha and into the corner of the room. “Who is that?”
“Her?” I said, looking at the pretty brunette girl he indicated from across the room. “That’s Marissa. She’s new.”
“I know who she is!” Kirk said, shushing me. “But what is she doing here? At the company Christmas party?”
“She’s a new board member. Very qualified,” I said, grabbing another cookie off the table. “What’s the problem, do you know her?”
Kirk bit his lip. “It’s a long story,” he said. “…from a long time ago.”
“Well,” I said. “I can’t wait to hear it, but you’ll have to give me a minute.”
I walked back over to Samantha, who was gazing wistfully out the window.
“Enjoying the festivities?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, smiling at me, and linked her arm with mine. I blushed as I noticed several eyes staring.
“It looks like things are going to work,” I said, looking out at our employees, who seemed happier than ever as they laughed and drank champagne. “You think it’ll last?”
Samantha smiled. “Once upon a time no one ever thought our companies could last together.”
“True,” I said, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But every once upon a time ends in something unbelievable, doesn’t it?”
Samantha grinned. “I think this time, you’re right.”
THE END.
The Boardroom: Kirk (Excerpt)
Chapter 1
When I think back to that June day so many years ago, only one thing stands out—this one memory, preserved in vibrant technicolor. There must have been well over a hundred pictures…caps and gowns and sparkling champagne, groups of my friends all huddled together…but the most vivid memory is one I have no photograph of at all.
I’m in my car driving away as my friends cheer and whoop and laugh, ecstatic with the liberation they feel at finally having a diploma in their hands. But through the window I see him. He’s there, with his parents, who are beaming at him as he stands proud with a bright assortment of tassels and ribbons wrapped around his neck—as any valedictorian would.