by Kara Hart
Emily
Three days pass with extreme slowness. First I delete Tinder. I delete every conversation I’ve ever had with any of those freaks. It’s not the place for a woman like me, and I know that, but sometimes it’s really tough feeling this lonely and helpless.
Next, I start to go to the gym. I’ve had the membership since I moved down here. It was something I got with the money I grabbed from Dennis before I left. I just want to tune things out. I want to feel like the world is normal.
Third, I clean my house, organize my clothes, and I even get a new haircut. I don’t know what’s making me do this. Maybe it’s my new boss and the way he looks at me. I get the feeling that he wants more than another worker to help out at the shop. When he looks at me, his eyes dart away. When they come back, they remain steady and hold dark truths.
For, behind every nice and docile gesture he makes, is a darker side to him. I’m not saying it’s bad. I don’t think he’s abusive or crazy like Dennis was. It’s more of an intensity that I’m sensing. When he fucks, I bet he doesn’t let go. I bet he devours you. I bet he goes full force, every single time.
But I can’t think of him like that. He’s my fucking boss, for Christ’s sake, and he’s married with a kid. It’s just bad fucking news, altogether. Honestly, I’ve been pretty excited to come into my first day of work, but now I’m completely dreading it. Will I meet his wife on the first day? Will she eye me up and down, figure out what she hates about me, and throw me to the curb? And of course, he’ll endure it all with a nod and a smile. “Yes, honey.” Like all men do.
I hate that I am so bent out of shape over this. It’s definitely unbecoming, but this is all so unbearable. I know what he’s thinking when he looks at me. Last night, he called me sexy. You don’t just call a woman sexy if you don’t want to take her home.
Do you?
I really don’t know anymore. I’m all confused over this, and in reality, I just need the job. Well, today is the big day, and I’m not about to cross any lines. I get in my car and tilt my seat forward. I turn on the engine, but I just sit there. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” I tell myself. “You just sit there and pretend like you know where you’re going. But you’re just drifting through everything.”
I look at myself in the mirror. Behind the pretty lies, there’s a small girl, full of worry and regret. I never knew growing up would be this hard. I always thought it would mean freedom. You know, getting your own place, falling in love, and having sex whenever, and wherever, I wanted. That’s what I thought it would be like.
They all tell you that it’s not like that, but when you’re younger, it’s impossible to listen. You just hear what you want to hear, and continue down that path of self-discovery. Now that I’m older, all of those things have worn off. The sex wasn’t as satisfying as I thought. The love was hardly even there. The apartment was more money and effort than I expected.
I don’t even want to know what it’s like to be forty. Kids, a husband, and a life of regret. Is that what it all leads to? Surely, there’s something better than all of that. There just has to be a better way.
I put my foot on the pedal and float over to the Vanderbilt house. I get out, lock the car, and look up at the cloudy sky. No rain today. That’s something at least. When I walk into the open garage, both men look up at me. Michael smiles. “You’re early,” he says.
“Sorry, should I come back later?” I joke.
“No, it’s a good thing,” he says. “I’m just surprised, really. I’m sure you had a long night.”
“Actually, I kind of just left,” I say. I don’t want to talk about last night. There were so many things I had wanted to happen. None of them came to fruition.
“Me too,” he says.
Hanson shakes his head and drinks a Coke. “You guys are dumb. I stayed the whole damn night. I’ve never felt so good in my life,” he says.
“Did you get the hi-score on the pinball machine or something?” Michael asks him.
“Fuck off,” he says.
“So you want some training or what?” Michael turns to me and stretches.
“You know it,” I say. Training. Yeah, I’d like him to train me. I’d like to prove to him that he’s the boss, and that I can do better. Teach me, Mr. Vanderbilt.
“Alright, so have you ever used a hammer before?” he asks.
I put my hands against my hips and roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
“No, not seriously. In all seriousness, safety is key, always. When you’re in here, you wear these safety glasses. Always wear long sleeves and gloves. You don’t want to end up chopping your finger off,” he says.
He gets into the nitty-gritty, and extra boring details about sawing, dusting, hammering nails, and everything else you’ve never wanted to learn about. All in all, however, I’m surprised. It actually seems kind of fun.
Eventually, Hanson chimes in. “I’m going to run to get some Chinese food. You guys down?” he asks.
“Sign me up,” I say. Michael nods. “Always.”
When he leaves, it’s just us. We’re alone now and there is no sound except for the beating of our hearts. I can’t tell if he can hear mine, but it’s reverberating through my ears. “So,” I say.
“So, that’s really it. You’ll have to watch us to get the hang of it, but I think you’ll be fine. You’ve done a good job today, honestly,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say. I look down at those rough hands of his. The ring on his finger flickers at me. “How long have you been married for?” I ask him.
His eyes widen. “Oh, this,” he laughs and pulls it off. “I don’t really know why I keep this thing on.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I ask him.
“I haven’t been married for a while now. Me and my wife, Susan… well, it’s sort of out in the open now, I guess. We got divorced,” he says.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. Deep down, my heart is full of excitement. I can feel the butterflies filling my stomach.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s for the best, really. We both sort of just went separate ways,” he says. But deep in his eyes, I can see the anger and frustration, as well as pain, pierce through the veil.
“Sorry I even asked. It’s none of my business,” I say.
“It’s fine.” He smiles. “You told me something personal, so it’s only right to return the favor.”
“That’s a philosophy I can support.” I smile.
We come to a standstill in the conversation and everything begins to feel heavy. “So what about you?” he asks me.
“What about me?” I glance into his eyes and give a smile of embarrassment. What is going on here? Is he thinking the same thing as me or is this all in my head? We’re alone. We’re at his house. It’s just a small trip upstairs to his bedroom. I quickly ignore the stupid idea. This is, after all, my new job. I can’t complicate things any further in my life.
“You have a boyfriend out here?” he asks. Okay, so he’s definitely thinking the same thing as me, right?
“The Tinder date, remember?” I remind him.
“Shit,” he says. “Somehow, I completely forgot about the Tinder date.”
I laugh and run my hands through the sides of my long hair. “It’s okay. You’re old. I don’t expect you to know about these things called dating apps.”
“I’m thirty,” he scowls. “Sadly, you’re right. I’ve never used one before. Never had the need.”
“Maybe we should sign you up for one,” I say.
“Me? Hell no. I don’t really have trouble meeting women,” he says.
“It’s not about that. It’s just… you know, an option,” she says.
“You guys talking about getting this guy to go out with someone again?” Hanson steps back in with the Chinese food in hand.
“I was just—”
“Don’t waste your time,” he laughs. “Michael is too stuck up for any woman. He’d rather take care of his kid than nuzzle on some sweet—”
>
“Hanson. Come on, man,” Michael sighs.
“I think that’s really sweet,” I say. “There aren’t too many good dads in the world, are there?”
Hanson rolls his eyes. “I think I need a kid. Women love that shit way too much,” he says.
Michael shrugs. “It’s just one of many responsibilities. Hey, I think I’m going to sign up for that thing. I mean, why not, right?”
“Why not,” I say.
Michael
I grab my phone and scroll through the hundreds of pictures on my phone. “This one isn’t good,” I say to myself. “Definitely not this one.”
At least half of these pictures are with my ex-wife and the other half are with my daughter. Do I put a picture of me and my daughter up? Is that weird? The online dating etiquette is not something I am used to. In fact, there’s no real reason why I’m even on this thing, other than the fact that I want to bang my new employee. That, of course, is out of the question. It’s a violation of ethics. My thought is that if I find someone else to look at, maybe I’ll be able to move past my desires for once.
The hidden truth is that this is how I met my last wife. She was everything to me. I saw her at a party. We were so fucking young then. My friends surrounded me while hers surrounded her. Looking through the sea of people, just to find her. She was gorgeous to me. That was before I knew how mean she got, before I knew what she could do to a man.
I was obsessed. Fucking hooked. I couldn’t stop calling her. Long nights on the phone, talking about nothing. That was how it started. One desire. That’s all it takes. Of course, that’s exactly why I’m scared. I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust the testosterone in my body. My dick wants her, and of course that makes my heart pump strange endorphins, but what is it that I’m really searching for? Peace? Stability?
Maybe I just want to be alone. That’s a thought I have sometimes. The quiet house creaks a little during the day, but I tend to busy myself with enough work to be distracted. A man’s worst enemy is himself, I once decided. Your choices will end up draining everything you’ve worked so hard to get. Your empire will turn to dust. Children, ex-wives, and some bad fucking karma. That’s the legacy of man.
Emily Carter, however, knows what she’s doing. She’s got that strange innocence that people possess before they hit their third decade. Youth, naivety, and the idea that anything is possible. That’s what she has inside those eyes of hers. And of course, I just want to take her in my arms and do the dirtiest things I can.
At home, while the moonlight glistens at night, I look at Tinder and feel dissatisfied with the world. This is what we’ve come to? Dating apps? Fuck, I really am starting to sound old fashioned, but there’s nothing to these things. There’s no connection, no meaning. It’s just a screen that makes you feel a little lonelier amidst everything.
So I turn the damn phone off and plug it in. I lay in bed and close my eyes. I think of Emily Carter and that beautiful, young body of hers. While Hanson was picking up the food, I should have made my move. That was my chance. She wanted me to. I could feel it.
She wanted me to reach out and touch her side. She wanted my palm to close around her, to pull her as close as I could. She wanted to feel my cock growing against her thigh, as I ripped her shirt off and backed her up against a table. And I wanted to lift her ass onto that surface, to pull her panties down to her ankles and fuck her senseless.
I open my eyes again and notice that my pulse is through the roof. I stand up and pace around my bedroom. I can’t have her. I can’t go after her. It would be so fucking wrong. Yet, everything inside me tells me that I need her. I need her lips around my cock, I need to feel her as deep as I can go, I need to taste her. “Fuck!” I nearly scream.
I take off my clothes and walk over to my shower. I turn it on and wait for it to heat up. I need a break from everything. It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve felt normal about my life. I thought that, eventually, things would even out, but it turns out I was wrong. As time passes, things only get more complicated.
I take off my clothes, feeling my muscles ache. I must have lifted that three-hundred-pound table over forty times today. I step inside the big shower and let the hot water fall down my back. I step forward because it burns me slightly. When I’m used to it, I push my body back in. A little pain never bothered me. What’s a little more?
Emily is crawling toward me on the bathroom floor, as I hold her leash in my hands, connected to the choker around her neck. Of course, this is all just fantasy. She’s too good for that. Too pure. In my head, she gets dirty for one person. Me. She’s never been bad before, no doubt. She’s always been obedient and good. I want to teach her the other side of living.
I lean against the tiled wall and let the water fall into the drain. In the steam, I run my hands down my abs, to my cock. Thinking about her has already destroyed me. My cock is harder than a hammer. It needs her. I need her. I close my eyes again and picture her, still on her knees, sitting obediently. Her mouth and tongue are wide open and she’s waiting for it.
I grab my cock and start stroking. I can feel her. I can taste her. My imagination is so fucking vivid right now. It’s four in the morning, and I’m practically hallucinating her with me right now. It’s not right. I’m going to have to face her in just a few hours. I can’t help myself. It’s all just too much to handle.
I slide my cock in her mouth and she moans eagerly. In my thoughts, she cums almost immediately. It doesn’t take me much longer. I slide my hand up and down, eagerly waiting for some kind of end result. I picture her ass, pushed against my face. I taste her lips. I grab her tits and brush against each nipple.
I begin cumming so fucking hard that I nearly lose balance in my shower. The feeling rolls through my body in shockwaves, until I’m numb and sitting, sprawled out on the shower floor.
Emily Carter is the woman I’ve hired below me. Emily Carter is also the woman I can’t stop thinking about. Pretty soon, I’m going to cross the line. There’s no doubt about that. When I do, it’ll bring chaos and, most likely, my downfall.
Emily
“You actually got it? You downloaded the app? Oh God, I was just joking!” I laugh, but deep down, I’m slightly hurt. I didn’t actually want him to talk to other women. Hello, I’m right here.
“Yeah, well…” He shrugs and goes back to work.
I start on sawing my first block of wood. “Like this?” I ask him, still unsure of myself.
He stops what he’s doing to look and shakes his head. “Close, but here, let me show you something,” he says. He sets down his tools and walks over behind me. He sits down and leans over my shoulder. “See this line?” he asks me. He’s so close to me. His lips are right next to my cheek.
“Yeah, I see it,” I say, turning my cheek slightly. My shoulder brushes against his chest and I nearly jump.
“You okay?” He laughs.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Keep teaching me. I’m learning,” I say.
“Just aim for that line. You were close before, but you have to line it up just right, and keep steady. But always be aware of where your fingers are. Seriously, I don’t want you losing your thumb when you cut,” he says.
“Okay,” I tell him.
He squeezes my shoulders and smiles. Endorphins and feelings of goodness spread throughout my body. I have to shift my stance as I feel myself turn wet. “You’re doing really good. Trust me,” he says.
“I trust you.” I smile. I trust him with more tools than this.
“You’re doing better than I did when I first started,” he says.
“That’s because I’ve got a good teacher,” I tell him. I run my hands across my jeans. My palms have grown sweaty. My face is clammy. I have to take a deep breath before I line everything up again. He’s watching me and I’m just getting so fucking nervous.
“You’ve got this,” he smiles.
I line it up, turn the saw on, and let it go. “I did it!” I laugh. He gives me a wink th
at sends shivers up and down my spine. I need to excuse myself because I’m practically soaking my panties at this point.
“Hey boss,” Hanson says, “I forgot to tell you that the inspector came by when you were out buying tools.”
“The inspector? He just came, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, like six months ago. We’re overdue for an inspection,” Hanson says, biting his lip.
“Shit,” Michael mutters and looks over at me.
“What?” I ask him. “Is everything alright?”
“We moved locations after my divorce,” I tell her. “It was cheaper to work out of my garage. Not exactly legal, though.”
“I didn’t tell him shit,” Hanson says. “Told him this was just for storage and hobby work, but we’re going to have to figure out a better story, fast.”
“How long do we have?” Michael asks.
“Two weeks at the most, maybe.” He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“What’s so illegal about working at home?” I ask.
“Well, for one, this place is a fire trap,” he says. “Not that you’re in any danger, but the city might disagree with me on that.”
“It could work,” Hanson says. “But we’ll need to clean the place up better and study the regulations.”
“I’m on it,” Michael says, jumping out of his seat. “I’ll talk to my wife.”
Great. His wife. “Ex-wife,” Hanson corrects him.
“Whatever. Susan.” He shakes his head. “Lord, help me.”
“Good luck, brother,” Hanson laughs. Michael walks out of the garage without looking back at me.
“So, what, does he have to report to her at every hour of the day?” I ask Hanson.
“Well, they own the business together,” he says.
“They do?” I’m shocked. Seriously, shocked. “She’s my boss?”
“Emily, she’s his boss.” He laughs. “No, but for real, she’s a real stone cold bitch. Worst of all, she doesn’t even work. She sits on the couch all day at her new guy’s place, drinking wine and spending half the money. It’s crazy shit.”