Under My Boss's Desk: Office Romance Collection with New Novella (Under Him Book 4)

by Jamie Knight

  Mahira jumped in the pool and lapped it once before settling near Tory. She had abandoned the white one piece for a navy blue bikini, similar to the black one she’d given Tory a week ago.

  “So where have you been keeping yourself? I knocked a couple nights ago,” Mahira asked, grinning slyly at her.

  “I think you know enough to guess,” Tory told her.

  Mahira laughed.

  “I truly underestimated you, Victoria,” Mahira admitted.

  “I think I truly underestimated myself too. Don’t worry about it.”

  They hugged in the water.

  “You’ll get your fifteen minutes of fame,” Mahira chimed at her.

  “iGo is big. We are not. Unsung heroes of the digital age. We didn’t design the app, we just designed the design that helps people find the app,” Tory admitted.

  “The industry will know of you. And that means something.”

  As US cities announce plans for reopening in stages, the stock market made a slight recovery. Back in her loose fitting dark pantsuit, Tory paced waiting for Ms. Kalinski to knock at her door. When she saw Ms. Kalinsky and her familiar quirkiness, Tory was put at ease. She had started to feel like a part of the Nextthing.Net family over the course of the quarantine.

  When Harlan introduced her to the CEO’s of iGo, they were thrilled and impressed with both Tory and the work. When one of them commented on the genius in presenting their brand colors in a gradient, she caught Harlan looking at her proudly.

  As press from other online design magazines snapped photos of her, and her with Harlan, Tory felt certain that everything she’d decided for herself was absolutely right but still had no idea how to tell her parents about Harlan. It almost seemed that people would be less judgmental if Harlan were not older and wealthy.

  A hard working older man only seemed to be respected more than a well to do man in this one area of life. The middle aged auto mechanic always seemed like a much more faithful mate than any man who slept with supermodels.

  The news of Tory’s work at the Nextthing.Net studio traveled fast. Her phone was flooded with calls from past clients with new work and new clients who wanted work fast, her head was spinning. When she saw Jude Coleman’s name and face on her phone she cringed.

  “Hello,” he said dismally. “I see you’re acquainted with Harlem Dawes. Sit on his lap yet?”

  “What?”

  “You know what I mean,” he insisted.

  “I’m not doing anything inappropriate with anyone,” Tory defended herself.

  “I want to come get you, take you back home before there’s nothing left to you for me,” Jude ranted. “These are dangerous times. I feel this thing taking you away from me, Victoria and you’re getting sucked in. I saw the pictures. You won a contest and now they are taking advantage. That’s what rich people do. You just need to come back home and do it with me. Life, I mean. Life. Good clean living back in ol’ Madison.”

  “Listen, Jude. I don't really know what I want right now. We’re not even together, remember? I’ve had offers just this morning from all over the country. The kind of jobs I’ve dreamt of my whole life, Jude. Don’t you want that for me?” she asked, becoming frustrated with him.

  “I just want you to come back to me. We had made plans. Together. Plans for being together!” he blurted out loudly causing her to move the phone away from her face.

  “That was in the past. It’s over. I have to go. Harlan is waiting,” she said, knowing she’d probably gone too far in vengeance.

  And she cringed as Jude’s screaming became unintelligible. Standing on his back porch, the young man smashed his phone on the worn wood and stomped it to pieces.

  In only his swimsuit, Harlan was running on an elliptical machine facing the big screen TV in the gym as he glanced occasionally at stock market figures scrolling across it a few yards away. The shotgun-like clacking of Ms. Kalinski’s heels thundered in the corridor. She marched in with a big tablet under her arm.

  “Good afternoon, Meyerwitz is here to see you,” she said, curtly.

  Harlan slowed and stepped off the machine smoothly.

  “You know I let Ms. Stadler work in my office. Where is he? He can come and sit down here,” he said, reaching for a towel.

  “I am here,” a small voice said, making Harlan freeze.

  Ms. Kaminski unfolded a stand from the tablet's drop proof case and stood in on a bench press nearby. On the screen, Barry Meyerwitz, one of Harlan’s attorneys, smiled at him.

  “What do you think?” he asked from the tablet.

  Harlan chuckled a moment.

  ‘OK, thank you, Jillian,” Harlan said, still amused by Meyerwitz.

  “You couldn't Zoom or Skype? Call me, maybe?” Harlan asked.

  ‘It’s important. I wanted to be here.”

  “But, but it’s no different,” Harlan scoffed.

  “Listen. Who’s the lawyer?

  “You.”

  “I prefer confidentiality in my work. You could totally record a Skype session. No one would know. I talk to you on my own unit, the content is mine,” the attorney explained.

  “This quarantine has turned you into a looney toon.”

  “Can we get down to business? Something has come up. I don't like it. I don’t even think I like talking about it.”

  “What?” Harlan asked, truly curious.

  “The girl.”

  “‘The girl?”

  “There’s a guy,” Meyerwitz told him.

  “I thought it's about a girl?”

  “A guy and your girl.”

  “Ah, Ok, my girl. Who will be 23 in August. And what guy?” Harlan asked.

  “Some kid from Wisconsin who joined an Incel Activist Group. He claims you’re to blame.”

  “What?” Harlan yelped, In-cels? The involuntarily celibate?”

  “Right. He says that you lured young women with a contest, that they are trapped with you while you take advantage of them sexually and make them work for free while your key staff quarantine with family.”

  “What? No, none of that is accurate.”

  “You’ve been seen with Ms. Stadler, Harlan.”

  “Yes. About Victoria. I never really imagined anyone could just come in and take over a job. It was a convenient situation to get some fresh opinions. So I never made any provisions to pay anyone.”

  “And how would you characterize your relationship with Victoria Stadler,” his lawyer asked, looking at him from the small flat screen.

  “Characterize? What does that mean really?”

  “The press is going to have a field day with this kid’s story. Is it possible, and excuse me for not being more delicate in the matter. Battery life. Would It be possible for you to just leave this one alone?”

  “Handle it, Barry. Please.”

  The Ducati’s engine flying through the Midtown Tunnel at 70mph orchestrated a somber snarling fugue of Doplering reverberations.

  Helmet at his side, Harlan walked along the well manicured grounds of the mausoleum where his father had been interred more than a decade ago, resembling a pilot returning from an awful tour of duty. He walked along the rows of names and familiar epitaphs until resting before his father's

  “You’re really not missing much these days. A new virus is out here killing people. Country in quarantine. All manner of insanity rampant in these conditions,” he laughed. “Anyway, I’ve actually met someone in all this. Someone a little different. The kinda girl who understands Sunday Dinner, you know?”

  I’ve been with a lot of women I wanted to be with, but I never felt like I needed to be with any of them. Is that it? Is that how it works? And Dad, she likes it. I found her in my Auditorium. Probably the last thing I designed that we were both proud of. I caught her taking pictures of our archway system, after everyone had left.”

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy. Just be sure she’s worth risking everything for.”

  “She is. I’m sure.”

  ***
<
br />   The cool blue light the pool threw combined with the warm glow of dusk randomly cast violet shadows. Tory casually swam to the end of the pool and returned in a lazy backstroke of relaxation. With plans to join Harlan for dinner, she laps the pool once more before climbing out and toweling off. She brushed her wet hair smoothly away from her face and draped her shoulders with her towel before walking to the elevator.

  Upstairs in his lounge, Harlen watched Tory approach on the security camera’s feed. “Music,” Harlan prompted, “Dies Irae by Wendy Carlos” as he dark synth track started to play the elevator door opened above the lounge and Tory stepped out and tossed off the towel and basked in the warm sunset’s final glow aas it burned hotly into the horizon.

  Seeing Harlan already naked her lips parted and breathing shifted in anticipation of any number of firsts in her short sex life.

  “C’mon,” Harlan prompted lightly, extending his arm to her. Tory descended and took his hand.

  “Turn around,” he said and took both her slim arms in his hands behind her then pushed his erection up between her legs and pressed up against the young firmness of her body with primitive satisfaction.

  With her arms held behind her then under his, he began fondling her breast and teasing her nipples with his fingertips. She could see Harlan swollen tip poking out between her thighs boasting his size.

  Hands pressed between their bodies, she started to stroke at his scrotum with her fingertips while Harlan undid her bikini top. He took it and quickly bound Tory’s wrist behind her back with the stretchy spandex. Kissing her back he played more roughly with her huge breasts.

  “On your knees,” Harlan demanded, pointing to the area near the sofa where he had laid out additional cushions.

  Becoming increasingly more excited, her breast rose and swole majestically with each deep breath. Harlan squeezed and appraised them with his hands while rubbing his erection all over Tory’s mouth, teasing her until she got her lips around it and he pumped it in her mouth repetitively while holding her head in both hands. Harlan stopped and savored her hot panting for a moment before telling her to turn around.

  Facing the sofa, he pushed her shoulders and head down on the cushions, raising the curvaceous beauty of her youth before him. He rubbed his face all over her thighs and the small crotch of her swimsuit before rapidly pulling it from over her hips to under her knees.

  Intoxicated by the glistening erotic folds of her genitalia aglow with dusk’s light, he slapped her ass red and smoothy rubbed the sting away with his palms afterward as she squirmed and moaned into the sofa cushions.

  Taking her bikini bound wrists in one hand and a thick bolt of her damp hair coiled in the other fist, Harlan began to rhythmically stroke, as deep and as hard as possible until her orgasm became obvious, then let himself go in frenzied abandon, riding out his orgasm to bring on her second.

  Together, they showered in silence until Tory’s eyes met his.

  “Are we still going for dinner?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Gonna be tough. Lot of places are still closed. There are some great places that still have pickup and delivery too. So hard to make a plan sometimes even before all this COVID mess.”

  “Maybe there should be an App. Something like Trip Advisor or iGo but for little things offering like a date package. This is your driver, this is your reservation, this is the discrete Bed and breakfast,” she kidded with him.

  “Yeah, for couples who want to get away from it all last minute. We could call it E-LOPE; for today, for tomorrow, or forever. Get away with E-LOPE!”

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, when there was a knock at her door it was unexpected. Ms. Kalinski stood outside. Despite the mask, Tory could see the tension in the slightly older woman’s brow.

  “Come with me,” Ms. Kalinsky insisted, “There’s a young man downstairs to see you. A Jude Coleman. He’s making some unfounded statements and I really need you to set him straight on a couple of issues.”

  When Tory went downstairs to the lobby, she had her mask on. The two security men flanking Jude had masks on. Jude had none. She couldn't help feeling exasperated even as Jude smiled upon seeing her.

  “Coming to my rescue sure as I came here for yours?” he said cryptically.

  “What do you think you’re doing by coming here?” Tory demanded. “This is New York City. Haven't you seen the news. There is a major outbreak in this city. How can you think about going home now? How? Are you ready to bury your Uncle Billy, your Mother? Who?

  “Sweet buckets of Christ, Sugar. What's come over you? You gonna take that thing off so I can see you?”

  “It’s a safety precaution,” she said flatly.

  “Safe! There ain’t no one safer for you than me. That's what I’m doing here. Come to take you home,” Jude said, staring at the mask on Tory’s face.

  “You’re wearing it for him, aren’t you,” he accused sobbingly. “You wanna stay clean for Dawes! Please tell me you didn't give him anything that was not his to take!’ Advancing on Tory but not before the security men braced him and turned him back to the door.

  “What are you doing!? Get your fucking hands off me right now!”

  “Keep your voice down, sir or we insist that you leave,” the bigger of the security men ordered.

  “I’m not shutting up. I know what this is! I know what this is. Get Harlem Dawes down here right now!” The security men push Jude outside, push him to the ground and restrain him.

  “Tory! Victoria! Help me!” he screamed and sobbed.

  “You're gonna get real calm real fast or we’re calling the police.” The security guard warned him.

  Upon hearing the news, Harlan decided to address the matter personally, but not without calling in Meyerwitz to moderate.

  In the conference room, the masked security men put a mask on Jude and wiped his hands down with sanitizer before letting him sit down. The awful and authoritative clacking of Ms. Kalinski’s heels rapidly approached. She opened the door and stepped inside briskly followed by Harlan who was slipping on a mask.

  Jude’s eye’s followed Harlan angrily as he took a sweat across the table.

  “So, Mr Coleman…” Harlan began and was interrupted by Ms. Kaminsky who merely said, “Ah-Hem,” as opposed to actually clearing her throat because she liked the sound of it. From a big manilla envelope she slid a tablet, popped open its stand and balanced it on the table as Barry could be seen upon the screen looking quite impatient as if he had perhaps actually been waiting in an envelope somewhere.

  “This is my Attorney, Mr. Meyerwitz, safely joining us via the web. I have here Jude Coleman of Wisconsin,” Harlan announced like a gameshow host.

  “I am in the process of filing an order of protection on Ms Stadler’s behalf,” Barry said, boldly from the slim black plastic and glass. “Don’t make that become necessary.”

  “You look me in the eyes, Harlem Dawes,” Jude demanded.

  “Oh, just Harlem,” he chuckled, “Harlem’s good. Familiar. Friendly.”

  “Tell me you didn’t tamper with her girlhood. Look me in the eyes like a man.”

  “On my honor as a gentleman, I promise I have only the best of intentions toward Ms. Stadler,” Harlan warbled humorously while realizing he actually felt that, exactly.

  “I also want to assure you that your friend will be appropriately compensated for her work here. The account brought in 700K. I’m going to see that Victoria gets a significant sum. I can make that work, right Barry?”

  “I’ll address that later. Let me ask some questions. How long have you known Victoria Stadler?’ Meyerwitz asked Jude.

  “My whole entire life,” Jude exaggerated.

  “And what may I ask is your relationship to her?” the lawyer continued.

  “We were to be engaged, before she broke things off with me.”

  “Nice. Good for you,” Meyerwitz said, “How much do you know about what Ms Stadler did at Nextthng.Net?

  “I know she d
id that iGo thing. Everybody knows it,” he growled at the small image of a lawyer.

  “Did Victoria Stadler put you up to this and promise you money?”

  “What the fuck is wrong it you!?” He grabbed the tablet and flung it against the wall, as the security men grabbed him, smashed his face on the table and tried cuffing his hands behind his back.

  Harlan approached the struggling young man.

  “That last question really threw me too, Buddy. This is not the best time to get involved with the justice system in our country. I’d straighten up if I were you,” Harlan advised then walked out.

  Back in his office, Harlan was speaking with Barry Meyerwitz, the screen of his tablet cracked and flickering.

  “I’m not trying to run your life, Harlan. You’ve been in quarantine. Locked up. Take some time, is all I’m saying. We don't want any press, right? Lay low. You’ve been tested. Go visit your mother. Do something. Buy a car. See if it blows over by the weekend at least,” the lawyer advised.

  Seeing Jude on the ground crying out to her for help was difficult. The stresses and horror of the pandemic seemed to have worn civility away from so many. She wondered what she would say to Jude’s parents, or her own for that matter. It seemed that all of a sudden no part of her previous life seemed viable at all.

  Tory truly worried about Jude, for his own sake and Harlan to consider. She didn’t want to scandalize him or Nextthing.Net. She didn't want media coverage that could possibly cast aspersion on the Design Contest she’d won or the work she just did for iGo.

  How unraveled Jude had become did make her wonder if he was right. Harlan was no virgin. She imagined a squadron of women at an airport waiting, their emotional baggage all having a bit of Harlan tucked in a dark corner.

  What if it was just one of those things that happened in confinement, never to be repeated or spoken of in the real world, she’d mused grimly.

  Earlier in the evening, she tried Harlan’s phone but got no answer. She had called Ms. Kaminski and asked where Harlan was. There was a brief pause before she said, “He went to buy a car...for his mother.”