Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series)

by J. S. Badham

  The large two-storey cinema was parked on the edge of the busy road, adjacent to several clubs, restaurants, pubs, and entertainment complexes all along the street. Jason found parking not too far from the city canal that stretched through the centre below. It soothed her nerves knowing that inside there was a crowd of people hanging around or having their tickets checked by ushers guarding the doors. Her attire wasn’t out of the ordinary around here, nightlife was expected, so if anyone did question her short, black dress, they could assume she was clubbing straight after or following up with a drink.

  Jason had already pre-booked, so he collected the tickets, refusing to allow Claire to pay half as she offered persistently as they headed towards the popcorn counter.

  “No, no, I’m paying. I respect what you’re saying, but please allow me to be chivalrous,” he argued gently, passing over a twenty-pound note as he ordered a giant box of popcorn to share.

  “Ah, I wish you would have let me. I just…like being able—”

  “I get it,” he interrupted, “but this evening, I’m paying. I want to make this special.”

  Two reasons why she liked paying. One, it was the twenty-first century, she took pride in knowing she didn’t expect the man to pay, but secondly, the question of whether this was a date. Although, so far, several things had already insinuated it. The CD, flowers, paying for her—what next? The back row seats? God, have mercy on her soul. At least say he hadn’t booked the back row seats. Please, say it was the middle row or front, anything but the back row, she prayed as they had their tickets stamped and approved by the young usher guarding screen seven’s doors.

  “Ah, brilliant. We’re in! I hope you don’t mind, I got back row seats. They’re VIP,” he chirped, holding open the door for her as they intruded into the dark, black space.

  Ah, shit. “Ha, yeaaah,” she said, cursing inside as they followed the blue, neon LED lights crawling all the way up the aisle. Just great. But don’t get ahead of yourself, Claire, she encouraged. Friends can sit in the back. And like he said, VIP seats. So that couldn’t mean this was a date, right?

  They’d soon sat down. Row 1, seats A and B.

  Claire was trying her best to sit comfortably, opting whether she should cross her leg over or rest them in front. He must have noticed her fidgeting as he asked her several times if she was comfortable or okay and offered another several times if she wanted popcorn, which she refused each time.

  Just stop, she could have screamed at herself. It was exhausting trying to decipher the atmosphere, so she attempted to relax, scooping some sweet and salty popcorn from the box, chewing its cardboard consistency before swallowing it dry down her throat. The screen was still playing advertisements, ushers were escorting a few who couldn’t find their seats, and bright, white tiny screens sprang up here and there in almost every row ahead. Jason was busy slurping on a drink, sometimes checking the time on his phone, and sometimes shuffling awkwardly. So far, nothing audacious had occurred to prove, yet again, the question of whether this was a date.

  Until now. The movie must have had about half hour left. Claire, finally de-stressed and comfortable, eyes glued to the screen, was unaware that Jason was going in for the old, cliché pretend-you’re-tired-arm-move. She felt it, though, when he suddenly slid his arm across her shoulders, refrained eye contact for a second before expressing an affectionate smile across his lips.

  Claire could only blink.

  Shit, shit, shit. Abort. Abort. What was she supposed to do? Whack him off. Shuffle her shoulder. Lean forward? She needed answers now. Oh no. He’s going in for the kiss on the cheek. Quick!

  Claire pretended to sneeze, leaning forward as she caught the pretend bugger within her hands. “Sorry,” she whispered, acknowledging his red cheeks seen by the white flare from off the gigantic screen. “I’m just gonna pop to the loo.” Then she stood up, thankful their seats were at the end, so she could escape if need be. Like now.

  Jason must have not been too hurt or embarrassed; he was too busy obsessing over the CGI graphics as they left the cinema around eight. She could only hope he didn’t see past her faux sneeze, although it was probably easier than telling him to his face that she wasn’t interested.

  “Did you see those effects? Definitely ten out of ten!” he said with enthusiasm.

  They weren’t heading back to the car; it turned out he’d booked a snazzy restaurant just a couple doors down from the cinema. They walked side by side, Jason with his hands in his pockets and Claire folding her arms, trying to keep warm in the chilly night.

  “Yeah, great movie. I enjoyed it,” she replied, thanking him as he held open the glass door for her. It was a lot warmer inside than out. The place was dimly lit, the front seating area had a bar and a fireplace, and amongst the edges were the rows of white-clothed tables, also booths, all lit up with small candle jars. Great. If this wasn’t intended to be romantic, she didn’t know what was.

  “Hello, I have a reservation booked under the name Jason Manson,” he confidently addressed the manager, who was standing behind the counter. She complied, typing for seconds on the keyboard before grabbing two menus as she escorted the pair to their designated seating area.

  “Your waitress will be over in a second,” she informed them before leaving them alone.

  And great. Left alone.

  ***

  ZACK

  Investing into a business was something that couldn’t be taken lightly. Nonetheless, at nine o’clock, Zack had watched his friend sign the contract, investing a chunk of money he’d placed on the table asking for partnership with the current manager, a chubby, bearded man wearing gold-painted rimmed shades. It had gone down in seconds, and not soon after they were chilling in the VIP balcony that looked down over the dance floor, enjoying bottles of champagne, a range of shots, and several women.

  Zack hooted as he slammed the shot glass down, immediately compensated with some brunette sliding her ass down onto his lap.

  “Ah, God!” he heard Kyle yell, laughing as he slapped Jared’s back; Jared was coughing a little after he’d taken the vodka shot. “I feel like a million dollars. I’ve invested in a place I call home.” He laughed some more, wrapping his arms around the blonde female who’d followed the same route as the brunette and slid rightfully onto his lap.

  “Jared!” Zack shouted over the music, waving his free hand that wasn’t clasped around the brunette’s waist. “You’ve got to learn to take your drink better!” He laughed, sluggishly waving still. He was slightly drunk. Kyle joined in, slapping Jared’s back some more as his friend’s brother groaned, lying his head across the wet, sticky glass table.

  Zack’s companion purred into his ear as she boldly squeezed his junk. “How about we take this party somewhere else?”

  His hardening pal couldn’t argue. “I suppose I could agree with that.” He stroked his fingers across her naked back.

  She stood up, gently tugging his hand as she led him downstairs. Zack had little time to wave off Kyle and Jared, but he was in no condition to refuse. He’d been frustrated since this afternoon, seeing Claire dressed like that, and now, it comforted him knowing he could release that energy. Wherever they were going, she was eager to escort him along, passing through the crowds of people dancing wildly. It didn’t cross his mind that they’d left the club until the chilly air hit him square in the face.

  “Where are we going?” He nuzzled her neck as they stood at the curb.

  “We’re getting a taxi to yours.” She cheekily smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He must have been intoxicated because he was pretty sure as he turned his head to the right, he could see Claire halfway down the pavement exiting a building alongside Jason. Something inside stirred him to react; he let the eager brunette go, his feet leading the way as he stalked towards them.

  “Hey! Where are you going!” he heard the woman yell after him.

  Zack ignored her, desperately trying to catch up.

  “C
laire!” he called out, dismissing the few stares he received from passersby heading to the club or returning from a quiet meal.

  ***

  CLAIRE

  As if this night wasn’t awkward enough already, she didn’t want to believe someone was blatantly shouting out her name. She hoped someone else nearby was conveniently named Claire, but it seemed apparent as the voice got closer it was directed towards her. Jason stopped as she did, turning defensively, something she didn’t mind in case this stranger happened to be a madman looking to chop a few heads off here and there.

  “Zack?” she exhaled, utterly confounded by his appearance. She observed how his dark purple shirt was unbuttoned halfway, exposing flesh, his hair sticking up in a few places, and the sloppy steps he took before stopping in front of them. “What—what are you doing here? It’s like—I thought you were at the apartment. Are you alone?” She sounded concerned, even proceeded to squeeze his shoulder as she checked his face.

  “I’m fine.” He jerked his thumb behind him lazily. “I’m out with a pal—or pals. I do have friends, just so you know,” he babbled. “I just saw you.”

  “God, you’re not drunk, are you?” she asked, feeling his forehead with the back of her right hand.

  “No, pssf, I’m sober,” he objected.

  Jason coughed. Claire pulled back. She’d forgotten Jason was there for a second.

  “Well, where are your friends? Are they—”

  “Shit, no, I’ll just catch a taxi back now,” he interrupted, grabbing his wallet from the back pocket of his trousers.

  “No. Jason, you don’t mind if he tags along, do you? You’re dropping me off now, anyway. Is that okay?” she asked, feeling a little cheeky, but it meant she didn’t have to endure another awkward second with Jason. At least, that’s how she felt. He’d already attempted, yet again, to sneak a kiss in the restaurant after she reluctantly allowed him to slide onto her side of the booth.

  Jason had just returned from the bathroom. “Mind if I scoot in?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the space adjacent to her.

  It would have been rude to have denied him, so she gently slid over, anxiously rubbing her palms together, as if magically they would help soothe her nerves. Jason didn’t seem to notice how on edge she’d been, her sheer desperation to steer the conversation away from anything that resembled a flirty approach, but he must have not caught the drift. Now, he was sitting right beside her, facing her and smiling with puppy eyes.

  If she hadn’t proved it earlier on, now she had to. As if from nowhere, she felt his fingers pushing a strand of hair from her cheek. It was the oldest trick in the book. Defensively, she had shuffled, bit her tongue as she forced a warm smile.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he’d muttered, then as if it were as easy as one, two, three, he’d went in for the kiss. Thank God the waitress returned with the bill, stopping Jason as easily as putting brakes on an emergency stop.

  “Erm, sure,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

  And that was that. Zack sat in the middle of the backseat, leaning his arms over each side of the front passenger and driver’s seat. With the presence of Zack, Jason decided to remove the love ballad CD, opting to just return it to some radio station.

  “So, did you have a good time tonight, Claire?” Jason asked. She instinctively glanced at the mirror on the visor, meeting Zack’s amused eyes staring back at her own. As if she needed I told you so, she thought.

  “Yes, I did,” she replied, forcing her hand to clasp Jason’s briefly as it rested on the gear stick.

  There, she thought. She returned her gaze to Zack. I don’t feel anything towards you. Forgetting that her action had consequences, she saw Jason’s broadening smile from the corner of her eye.

  It wasn’t long till Jason was parked outside Claire’s apartment block, bidding her farewell with admiration written all over his face, and Zack’s pesky presence just a mere few steps behind her, attentively listening in.

  “I had a wonderful night,” Jason said. “Thank you for coming out with me. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

  Claire bit down on her tongue. She wanted to subtly drop the hint that they were just friends, but with Zack standing just a short distance away, and that nagging stubbornness, she opted to lie and flatter him adoringly, even if that meant giving him a kiss on his cheek.

  “Bye!” She waved him off, shutting the door after she’d watched him walk towards the staircase. She closed her eyes as she sunk her head back on the door. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Sounded like you really had a good night,” Zack remarked. She opened her eyes; he stood there, chuffed to bits, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

  “I did,” she insisted, walking towards the sofa.

  “Sure, you did. Oh, Jason! Oh, Jason! Fuck me, Jason!” He mimicked her with a high, soft pitch and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Sure sounds like it,” he added, returning to his calm, collected self.

  “Oh, fuck off!” she cursed. “Not everything has to be about sex, you know! Who knows! I’d probably be getting it if your stupid ass didn’t show up shouting my name down the road!” She aggressively attacked the pillow as she flopped down onto the sofa and crossed her arms.

  “Babe, you know if my ‘stupid ass’ didn’t show up, you would have been stuck in a car alone with a horny fella you don’t even like,” he said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table as he sat down beside her.

  “Idiot!” She pushed his shoulder. “You don’t know that. Of course I like Jason. He’s—He’s—”

  “He’s what?” he interjected, flicking through the TV guide he’d picked up off the coffee table.

  “Oh, just shut up! Why are you so irritating?” she snapped.

  “Why can’t you just confess that you’re absolutely smitten with me? I’d gladly relieve the tension,” he offered, holding his arms out as if he was suddenly beneath a beaming spotlight in the centre of a stage performance.

  “No!” she spat, climbing onto her knees as she whacked the pillow on his arm several times. Zack grabbed the pillow firmly, not letting it loose, and said not a word. It stunned Claire for several seconds. They were beginning to feel like a trap, a spider laying its foundations for the ignorant fly to pass into.

  Naturally, she pressed her lips together, a mechanism of defence to the swarm of butterflies inhabiting her stomach. His charcoal eyes hauntingly flicked back and forth, travelling to her own, then briefly halting at her lips. She grew impatient waiting for his next move. It was as if a cloud of mist had fogged her mind completely, and she knew searching for the appropriate solution was lost far beyond her reach. She knelt slowly, watching as he slowly leaned towards her, his lips travelling towards hers, frozen like a picture on a canvas. Claire must have stopped breathing; she could only hear her heart beat thumping through her ear drums. Whatever it was doing, it felt like it was frantically pumping thick volumes of excitement through her veins.

  His left hand slid onto her cheek as he gently kissed her lips. Electricity simmered at their touch; she felt powerless and entirely at his mercy. Why did he have this effect? It pleased her more than it had frustrated her, a ratio she couldn’t overthrow, knowing inside her stomach was doing backflips. She felt weakened on pure bliss. Claire expected more but grew disheartened as he pulled back.

  She blinked several times. “Why—why did you stop?”

  It was his turn to blink now. He almost choked. “What? Hang on, this is you we’re—”

  “Just shut up, already.” She rolled her eyes as she aggressively smashed her lips against his. It became demanding, raw, and possessive as their mouths hungered for each other. She slid into his lap, feeling his needy hands grab her waist and slither towards the back of her neck as he tore away for air, tracing his lips at her collarbone. Claire fisted her hands into his shirt, grinding her body against him, dissolving completely into oblivion. Everything about him she wanted. The taste of a
lcohol from his tongue, the scent of his aftershave tickling her nostrils, and the body she wanted to worship. Their tongues slid teasingly against each other as he reclaimed her lips. She begged herself to stop, begged herself not to succumb to the weakness, but it was too much…her ass squeezed in the palm of his hand, his mouth, his everything.

  There was just no stopping her. She gladly allowed him to guide her to lie back, his weight on top, not daring to stop as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Claire wanted it. She could feel it pressing into her. It was as if she’d been starved for days or walked a desert dehydrated, hallucinating water, till it materialised, and felt like honey dripping down her throat. How could she deny how horny she felt? It was ludicrous!

  ***

  ZACK

  Zack lifted his shirt over his head, urging her to counter-attack as his hands thumbed her thighs, steadying her as he spread them apart. He felt this could really happen. He felt anxious, exhilaration, possibly envious that she had been touched before, because every bit of him burned, the tip of his dick, the hairs upon his legs and arms as she groped his chest, feeling his abs, tasting his pec. Zack massaged her hips, slid his hands under her dress as he touched the waist line of her knickers. He had it. She kissed the side of his neck.

  “Zaack,” she panted.

  He had it. The opportunity. She was hyperventilating at the skim of his lips on the inside of her hip. She wanted this. He wanted this. Yet he stopped.

  She looked up, confused as he wet his bottom lip. What was wrong with him? She wanted it. She isn’t drunk. She’s lying there for, you! What is wrong with you? He pushed aside his thoughts. “We can’t do this. I don’t think…it’s appropriate if we rush into things,” he confessed, feeling utterly silly. He ran his hand through his hair as he sat back and sunk his head back. This wasn’t Zack. Zack went in for the kill. What’s one woman got to do to suddenly change his mind?