by Daphne Dawn
In this case, drunk-and-weaving heads toward us. Scott glances at me. Neither of us are in the business of taking advantage of women. Do I love sex? You bet I do. But this drunk needs a greasy meal and a warm bed to sleep it off.
She stumbles past us. I see it happen in slow-motion–she loses control of her drink, and it splashes onto my knee.
“Goddammit,” I say, jumping up. She starts toppling toward me. I grab her arm, trying to steady her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Someone says right behind me. When I turn around, I come face to face with a brick wall of a man. “That’s my woman.”
I unhand the drunk girl.
“Ow,” she says, rubbing her arm.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, at all.”
“Are you okay, baby?” he asks.
Scott stands up and comes over to me so that we are side by side.
“It’s sore,” she says, except she is slurring so it sounds more like it’sh shaw.
“You think you’re funny, getting frisky with another man’s woman?” he asks.
“Hey, now,” Scott says. “He was just trying to help. She’s had a little more than she can handle.”
“Stay out of it, asshole,” the guy sneers at Scott.
I shake my head, pissed off now. First, his girlfriend is a problem, and now it’s escalating into name-calling.
Just another night out, it seems. What am I? An asshole-magnet?
“That’s not necessary,” I say. “It’s nothing more than a misunderstanding.”
“Oh yeah?” the guy says, and he looks just as pissed as I feel. Maybe he had a lot to drink, too.
“Come on now, let’s just talk about this,” Scott says, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture.
The guy turns away a little, shaking his head. He spins around and his fist flies out, hooking me in the jaw.
For a moment, I see stars, and I fall backward and crash into someone else. I’m aware of Scott jumping the guy and the drunk girl screaming above the music. It doesn’t take me too long to recover. The guy had only clipped my jaw and done no real damage.
“Sorry,” I say to whoever is behind me.
Scott is in a full-on fist fight with this guy. The girl is still screaming, and I become aware of the bouncers circling us. We’ve attracted a crowd, and there are phones out. This is going to get ugly, whether we carry on fighting or get banned from the club. I want to get in a hit before we are thrown out. I run toward them and jump up, punching the guy in the nose over Scott’s shoulder.
None of us can do more damage. One moment, our attacker is angry, with blood blooming from his nose, and the next, we are all being dragged out by security, my knuckles throbbing.
We are thrown into the road outside, and all that is missing from the way we’ve been discarded is the bouncers dusting their hands before turning around and walking away.
I push myself up from the asphalt and get to my feet.
“Well, that wasn’t humiliating,” Scott says.
I shake my head. “At least we still got it.”
Scott laughs, and we high-five like teenagers.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “I have to get home, anyway. I want to hit the gym in the morning, and my body is not going to like the whiskey as it is.”
Scott nods. “I’ll see you in the gym bright and early then, bro.”
* * *
On Monday morning, I leave my apartment dressed in my suit and tie, ready to take on the week, when my phone rings.
“Meyers,” I say, holding the phone against my ear.
“Kevin,” a deep voice says. I recognize Mr. Franklin Hull right away. He is one of my investors, one of the most important members on the board, and I deal with him directly most of the time.
“Mr. Hull,” I say. “I trust you’re well?”
If there is anyone whose ass I have to kiss, it’s Hull’s.
“I’m not as well as I’d like to be, Kevin,” he says, and his voice is serious.
Oh shit, what happened now? “What can I do to fix it?” I ask.
“You can tell me why the hell I’m supposed to invest in a person who ends up in the tabloids for a fist fight in a club. This is work, not a playground. We’re all adults trying to achieve something here.”
“Of course, Mr. Hull,” I say, thinking feverishly. “It’s all one big misunderstanding.”
“Well, then you can explain yourself in our meeting at nine.”
Shit. They are calling me in for a meeting. What a way to start the week. When he hangs up without saying goodbye, I get in my car and open Twitter. It doesn’t take me long to find the link to the post where a crude photo of me and Scott is posted alongside a photo with two security guys and the guy with the bloody nose.
Fuck.
I’m in the tabloids for this shit? It had to be one of those assholes who stood around us with the cellphones. What am I going to do, now?
I start the car and pull into the road. My stomach is knotted in a tight fist of nerves. “Call Scott Collins,” I tell my hands-free system, and it dials Scott’s number right away.
“Yeah?” he answers, sounding like he is still asleep.
“We’re all over the net for that fight at the club on Friday.”
“What?” he asks, suddenly a lot more alert.
“Yeah, Hull just called me in to a meeting to shit all over me. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”
“Fuck,” Scott says with feeling.
“Yeah, that’s what I said,” I respond. “I’m being cross-examined at nine. I’ll let you know how it goes. Be on standby. Hopefully, it won’t be too hectic, but you never know if we need to think of something like a press release.”
“Got it,” he says. “Good luck.”
I hang up without responding. This is a load of bullshit.
I got a bet to win, and this just makes it hard
.
Carly
The first day of the job is always the worst. I was so happy when I got the job, but now, I am sick to my stomach. I handle stress well, but making an impression and having to prove myself are something different entirely.
Sure, after all the years of studying at Stanford, after all the money I’ve spent on tuition…. you’d think I’d do better than a secretary position. But what can I tell you? It’s not like job offers are raining down on me. Besides, I’m ambitious – I’ll just get my foot on the door and then start climbing up.
Still, yeah, I’m nervous.
I also feel a little uncomfortable in my shoes. They are brand new–I’d gone shopping to celebrate the moment I’d gotten the job–and I should have broken them in first.
When I walk through the lobby to the stairs, Kevin Meyers comes out of the men’s room and reaches the foot of the stairs the same time I do.
“Morning, Carly,” he says.
I smile nervously at him. I hadn’t expected to see him out here already.
“Morning, Mr. Meyers,” I say.
“Kevin,” he says. “Please. We’re going to be working closely together. Let’s not stay too formal.”
I nod. “Kevin,” I say.
He pulls one corner of his mouth up in a lopsided grin. We turn and ascend the steps together. Kevin seems distracted and serious. The grin had faded almost immediately, and he seems to be lost in a world of his own. It is quite the opposite from what it had been when I’d done the final interview. He’d been charming and suave, then, almost arrogant. He had stared at my body with his icy blue eyes without shame, and I had to admit that I’d liked it.
Now, he barely looks at me. I had gotten dressed this morning with the intention of looking good. I’m in appropriate office attire, of course, but I’m wearing a peplum dress suit that accentuates my curves, and kitten heels that make my calves look better than when I wear flats.
We climb the two flights of stairs, and I follow him to a door with his name on the glass in golden lettering. The
office is modern executive, with black furniture and splashes of color that are artful enough that I assume he’d gotten a decorator. Black blinds hang in front of all the glass walls, ready to give Kevin privacy from prying eyes when he needs it.
I stand just inside the door, clutching my handbag like it is a lifeline, waiting for Kevin to tell me what he wants me to do.
He is still distracted, opening his laptop and typing feverishly. It gives me time to study him.
He has dirty blond hair that is raked out of his face like he’d done it with just his fingers after showering. His blue eyes are the color of a winter sky, and his suit hugs his muscled arms. He works out, no doubt. The top button of his shirt is undone, the tie is loose around his neck, and a few golden chest hairs and a triangle of tanned skin peek out of the shirt.
God, he is hot. He is the kind of man that, in any other situation, I would go home with. Pity he is my boss.
Kevin looks up at me, and I feel like an idiot for staring.
“Okay, so you’re going to work out there,” he says, walking back to the door and pointing at a desk just outside. With his blinds open, I will be able to see him through the glass office wall, and he will be able to see me.
“I’m going to need you on standby a lot, though, so you’re not going to sit down much until I ask you specifically or if I’m out.”
I nod. “I’m quick on my feet.”
He grins. “I see what you did there.”
It’s a silly comment, but it makes me feel warm.
He walks to the desk I’m supposed to use. “Here is a file with all the numbers you might need, extensions, names, all of it. I got the last lady to prepare this for you. You’ll have to talk to Dana over there to help you with the filing system.” He waves at a woman with an auburn bob, and she waves back.
I nod.
“You have an hour for lunch and two fifteen-minute breaks at eleven and three. Do you smoke?”
I shake my head.
“Good,” he says. “So, smoke breaks won’t be necessary. I expect you to be on top of your game. We’re trying to rise on the corporate ladder so I need you to be as serious about this as I am. And you have potential,” he adds, and I can’t help but wonder about that.
I nod. “Thank you, Mr. Meyers.” I shake my head. “Kevin.”
He smiles at me and it is a dazzling smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes me melt a little. I have to stop being affected by him like this. He is my boss, for crying out loud.
“After your lunch hour, I need you to go to Hannah Weber in accounting–Dana will tell you how to get there–so we can get you onto our payroll.”
He puts his hands on his hips and looks over my shoulder, thinking. I am aware of how tall he is and how broad his shoulders are. His shirt is tight around his chest, gracing his pectorals, and I wonder if he has six-pack abs below the shirt where it hangs of his body a little.
I shake off the thoughts. Focus, I have to focus.
Kevin clears his throat, and he looks distracted again.
“I’m going into a meeting in a couple of minutes,” he says with a solemn face. If he’d seen me staring, he doesn’t show it. “I’ll need you to wait here, though. It’s a private matter. I might need you to come into the board room, though. It depends on how it goes. So be on standby so I can call you.”
I nod. “I’ll be right here,” I say.
“Good girl,” Kevin says and walks away.
I am thrilled by the ownership that comes with a compliment that should have felt more condescending than it does.
With Kevin gone, I turn to my desk and sit down behind it. I glance at his office. This is where I am going to sit every day for the foreseeable future. When I look toward his office, I know I will be able to see him perfectly and that makes me excited. He’s my boss, I tell myself, but that doesn’t change the fact that I think he is hot as hell.
I lean back in my chair. Kevin Meyers is a man that looks like he knows exactly what he wants and he gets it, too. The way that he speaks to me makes me feel like he is in control. And why wouldn’t he be? He is my boss. But it is more than that.
Kevin looks like he is the type of man that would dominate a woman in the bedroom. Just enough to be hot as hell. There is something deliciously sexy about a man grabbing a woman’s hair or putting his hand on her throat. I like the idea of a man making demands. I like the idea of Kevin making demands.
God, the things I would do for him if he but asks. I can just picture myself on his desk in lingerie, my legs open for him so that he can explore my body. Or kneeling in front of him with his dick in my mouth. If he puts his hand at the back of my head when I suck him off, it would be so much hotter still, with him pushing me to my limit and me letting him because I am his for the taking.
Dana comes toward me and that rips me out of the dirty day dreams I am having about someone I shouldn’t be fantasizing about. I feel my cheeks flame, knowing full well that Dana wouldn’t know that I am dreaming about Kevin, and feeling silly, anyway.
“I’m Dana,” she says and smiles at me. Her shoulder length bob is more red than brown up close, and she has a smattering of freckles across her nose that move when she smiles. “You’re the new girl.”
I nod, even though it isn’t a question.
“Let me show you the filing cabinet while you have some time to breathe. You won’t have that once Mr. Meyers comes out of the meeting.” I notice she doesn’t call him Kevin the way he asked me to. I wonder if it is a privilege to do so and what it means, if it is.
“He had the last girl running around like a headless chicken,” Dana says, turning toward the filing cabinets and expecting me to follow her. “But if I must be honest with you, I don’t think he liked her very much.”
“Why?” I ask.
Dana shrugs and flips her hair. “I don’t know. I guess you just don’t click with some people.”
I nod, wondering if that was all it was. I guess I will find out in due time. I look down the corridor where Kevin had disappeared to. Dana prattles on, and I wonder if I will be stuck with her for a long time, still.
Time passes slowly in an office I don’t know with nothing to work on. After learning how to do the filing from Dana and finding Hannah in accounting much earlier than I need to, I have nothing to do until Kevin finally comes back to his office. He looks tired when he arrives.
“Carly,” he calls, beckoning to me as he walks into his office. I jump up and follow him in.
“Close the door, please,” he says.
I turn around and do as he asks, aware that the blinds are open and only what we say will be private. Not that it matters. What else would happen?
Kevin sits down on the edge of his desk. He gestures to the chair facing him, and I sit down, perching on the edge, ankles together and hands folded in my lap. I’m not comfortable yet, and being around Kevin in an enclosed space is disconcerting. I can smell his cologne, and it is manly and attractive, designed to make women fawn over him.
It works.
“I need to talk to you about what’s going on,” he says, and he sounds so dejected I get rid of all my naughty thoughts and focus on him. “It’s not a big deal, not really, but you ought to know. I have new investors. They signed on with Raven Publishers about two weeks ago. Mr. Franklin Hull is a particularly difficult man.”
Kevin takes a deep breath. I listen intently.
“We were caught in a tussle on Friday–my HR manager and I–and it was portrayed a lot worse than was necessary in the tabloids. You can imagine what a nuisance they are.”
He tales another deep breath. He seems stressed. I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything at all.
“The problem with this is the fact that any little thing will cost me the investment. They were already threatening to pull out after this unfortunate situation. It was nothing, but they’re serious about image, and they don’t like it when anything goes wrong.”
He looks at me, and his eyes are
bright. He looks at me for long enough that I think he might want me to say something.
“I understand,” I say.
“I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I need your help keeping an eye on things.”
“Me?” I ask. It seems like a very sudden, very big responsibility.
Kevin nods and smiles. It is a warm, encouraging smile.
“You’re my assistant. You’re an extension of my image now, essentially an extension of me.”
I blink at him. He shakes his head and chuckles. His voice is deep and velvety when he does.
“I just need some help keeping a handle on things.”
I smile and nod. I am wanted. I am needed. This is exactly what I am here for.
“Absolutely,” I say. “You can count on me.”
He gives me another of his brilliant smiles, and I melt into my shoes.
Kevin
By Wednesday afternoon, I am more than impressed with Carly. I made the right choice in hiring her, and it isn’t just because she is the hottest thing I’ve seen on two legs. She is efficient, quick on the uptake, and she makes my job so much easier.
She understands what I want and when I want it, without me needing to tell her. We are on the right level so far, and that is exactly what I need in a personal assistant.
More than that, I had her go through a lot of paperwork the board had me swamped with. She went through fast – almost as fast as I would have done it. This bet looks like a sure deal. Sorry, Scott.
Of course, it helps a lot that she is so easy on the eyes. She is graceful and elegant when she walks, carrying herself like she is proud of who she is. Her long dark hair frames her delicate face, and she has these deep, liquid eyes that I can get lost in if I allow myself to stare into them for too long.
Every day, she wears something different, something equally flattering as she did the day before. Whether it is a skirt or a pair of pants, she always looks well put together and neat as a pin.
Of course, I prefer it when she wears skirts. Her legs are to die for, and her skin tone is so light it is like marble.
After she comes back from lunch, I call her in.
“Close the door, will you?” I ask.