by Roya Carmen
“Sorry, I’m just talking to my son,” she tells me, her hand over the phone. “He’s in college and always wanting something.”
I sigh. Apparently my little investigation is going to have to wait.
I trudge into the house, exhausted. Who knew a day at the office could be so tiring? I think it was the stress of it all – the constant fear of fucking up, the desire to please. I also haven’t worked a full day in a long time. I’m sure it’ll get easier.
Trevor throws himself into my arms. “Auntie Ruby!”
I hug him tightly and rub my nose in his soft ginger hair. It always smells so damn good, like soap and spring, no matter the season. “How was your day?”
“Awesome,” he says. “Aiden and I played catch after school. Did you notice the snow melted today?”
I smile. I hadn’t noticed at all. It could have been raining lollipops, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I tear myself away from him to hang my jacket.
Amber rounds the corner. “How was your day?” Her expression is full of curiosity. She wants all the gory details because she lives vicariously through me.
“It was okay.” I tell her all about the house, my office with its cozy fireplace and coffee station, and lunch with Millie.
“Sounds amazing.”
I slouch a little as I take a seat at the kitchen. “It is. There’s just one thing that kind of sucks…”
Trevor smiles. “You said ‘suck.’ That’s a bad word.”
I bite my lip, turning to Amber. “Uh… shit, sorry… um, I mean…” Dammit. “Sorry, I’ve had a long day.”
Trevor and Amber both laugh.
I swallow and start over. “The one thing that… stinks – is that an acceptable word, Amber?”
She nods and smiles as she stirs something on the stove. I’m not sure what she’s cooking, but it smells delicious.
“The one thing that stinks is my boss,” I start again. “Seriously, the man is absolutely intolerable, a real Jekyll and Hyde.”
Amber laughs. “The name suits him then.”
“Which one is the evil one again?” I ask, mildly embarrassed that I don’t know.
“I think it’s Hyde,” she says. “I heard all about him from Aiden when he was working on his house renovation. The guy sounds like a real stickler.”
“He’s just unpredictable. One minute he seems happy, and the next he’s grouchy again.”
Amber smiles. “We women get a bad rep, but men can be just as moody as us.”
“True,” I agree. “Anything I can do to help with dinner?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Why don’t you go relax a bit. You look like you’ve had a full day.”
I smirk. “Certainly did. Thank you, Amb.”
As we eat Amber’s delicious beef stroganoff, I keep talking about August. I just can’t help myself. Amber and Aiden shoot each other smiles once in a while, and Trevor asks a million questions about the bird. How big is he? Where did he come from? How big is his cage?
“His schedule is very regimented,” I go on. “I was specifically asked not to disturb him from ten to one o’clock. Makes sense, I guess… that’s when he writes.”
“What does he sound like?” Trevor asks.
I sigh, staring off into the distance. “He has a nice voice, kind of deep and soft all at the same time, with a lovely cadence. It’s almost hypnotic…”
“He meant the bird,” Aiden pipes in. “What does the bird sound like?”
I fall back into reality. “Oh… the bird… the bird sounds like a little old man. He makes lots of clacking and popping noises. He whistles too.”
Trevor stares at me, wide-eyed. “He whistles? Wow.”
“Does the beautiful Mr. Hyde whistle too?” Amber teases with a playful smirk.
I scowl. “I never said he was beautiful.”
“Oh, so I see… an ‘ugly intolerable man,’” she jokes. “It might be hard to work next to him every day, but a job’s a job, right?”
“Hey, I’m a guy, and even I noticed that he was decent-looking,” Aiden chimes in, laughing. “He wears a lot of sissy grandpa sweaters, but the guy would make a good James Bond… all slick and debonair.”
I laugh. “How about you, Aiden? Would you make a good James Bond?”
He laughs. “No, too scruffy. But I might make a good Jesus if they ever remake Jesus Christ Superstar.”
I crack up. “Yeah, true. Jesus was a carpenter too.”
“Yeah, probably a lot better one than me.”
Over dinner, wine, and dessert, we chat about Mr. Hyde and everything else going on in our lives. But as much fun as I’m having, all I can think about is August Hyde and how I can’t wait to get back to work.
August
I’ve vowed to conduct myself in a solely professional manner from here on. However, as soon as I hear the click of her heels and I look up to see her standing at my doorway – at one o’clock on the dot – all my promises fly out the window. She is not only stunning but sexy as hell in a tight pencil skirt with a frilly hem and a soft pink blouse to match. And those shoes… those shoes. Pink stilettos… almost as if she knows my weakness.
My ego swells at the thought of her dressing up just for me. After all, who else would she dress up for? There’s only Millie and me in this big old house. She heard those ill-advised comments I made loud and clear. Admittedly, I’m thrilled to see she considered them, and I’m quite appreciative. I tell myself I can look. There really is no harm in that, is there?
I do not let my behaviour betray my inappropriate thoughts. I do not offer her a smile or a “good afternoon.”
“Come in,” I say. “What are we up to today, Miss Riverstone?”
As she drops a few sheets of paper on my desk, my attention is brought to the tips of her fingers, which are shiny pink. I lift my gaze to her lips to see if they match. No, she still wears her signature ruby shade. Her gorgeous hair is worn down in soft bouncy curls – just how I like it.
Please, God, may you keep me strong. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour… and employee.
“I just wanted you to approve these images before I dive into the design,” she explains. “Of course, I’ll touch them up – probably make most of them black and white. Increase the contrast, make them pop.”
I already have an erection, and these images do not help my situation. Thankfully, I’m comfortably concealed behind my large desk. She has managed to dig up the most sensual and sexy images known to man. They aren’t crass but manage to be unbelievably sexy: the naked curve of a woman’s hip; another woman’s head thrown back as a man licks the arch of her neck; a close-up of a woman’s parted red lips, the most sensual of all the body parts in my opinion; and finally the curve of a woman’s calf as her stilettoed foot lifts around a man’s shoulders, his head tucked under her short black skirt as he, I assume, pleasures her orally.
The images are perfect. And perfectly frustrating. They make me crave sex in its most primal, sensual form. And the woman standing across from me, all curves and softness, makes me want it even more. I stare at the images, pretending to study them carefully, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. I need to have this fantasy, and I need to have it right now. There will be no waiting until the end of the day when I find myself in the comfort of my bed and can pleasure myself like I did last night.
The fantasy is perfect.
I walk around my desk. She does not move an inch. I press my mouth against the back of her neck, tasting her, burying my face in the wonderful scent of her hair. I dig my hands in it and pull her toward me. She moans as her sexy rear presses against my crotch. I hike up her skirt softly, revelling in the warm softness of her skin against the tips of my fingers. She wears no panties, and her sweet, wet sex is a delight to touch. I bend her over my desk, delighted to hear her moans as I fuck her until the tension in both of us fades into the charged air of this stuffy room.
Because if I know anything, it’s that she is as tense as I am. I can feel it
deep in my core. I shake my head and swallow hard. This… what it is exactly, I don’t quite know. But I know it is not going to work today.
“I love them all,” I say curtly, not even looking up at her. “Why don’t you go finish those up? I’m going to take the rest of the day off.” Finally, I give her the courtesy of looking her in the eye when I add with a forced smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I look forward to seeing these promos.”
As disciplined as I usually am, there is absolutely nothing wrong with taking the occasional afternoon off for a little downtime. So after I wrap up my workday, I start a workout to relieve some tension. I already got a workout with my trainer this morning, but two workouts in a day won’t kill me. No, being in close proximity with Ruby Riverstone every day holds much higher odds of imminent mortality. I then pleasure myself in the shower while replaying my desk sex fantasy. As I stroke myself, I imagine her naked and begging beneath me. The fact that she’s sitting at her desk just below me only heightens the experience.
Then I lose myself in a good book and stay in my room on the second floor for the rest of the day. I only venture downstairs when I’m sure she’s gone. I sigh, knowing I can’t do this every day. But I also know that her presence is very new, and I anticipate that this insane attraction will fade over time.
For the sake of my sanity, I hope it does.
Ruby
“I need a stiff drink.” I sulk into my mobile.
Sonia laughs. “I think you do. I think you also need to get laid too.”
“Shut up,” I scoff. “I just had a long week.”
“Let’s go out,” she says cheerfully.
“It’s Thursday. I work tomorrow. Some of us have reals jobs.”
“Oh, I feel so sorry for you, Rubes,” she says, sarcastic as always. “Poor little girl has to work all day in a magnificent mansion next to the most gorgeous man on earth. Boo hoo hoo.”
I laugh. “A gorgeous man who won’t even talk to me. I think he’s said less than twenty words to me in the last three days.”
“That’s perfect! A boss who stays out of your shit. He lets you be creative, do what you love. So what if you want to fuck him and you can’t? Just jack off like the rest of us do.”
My mouth hangs open as I find myself speechless.
“Or better yet, get laid,” she goes on. “We’re going out tonight. And you’re getting fucking laid. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
I bite my lip. She’s right. I do need to get some action. Maybe if I meet a new guy, I’ll stop obsessing over the infuriating August Hyde.
“Damn, you look amazing,” Sonia says as she takes me in from head to toe: short slinky pink dress, porn star hair, smoky eyes, and heels I can barely walk in. “You are so getting laid tonight.”
Before long, we’re drinking colourful cocktails at men’s expenses – mostly guys we already know. This bar is kind of a dive, but the music is always good and they have cheap-drinks Thursdays. It’s also a great pick-up bar. There’s always sex guaranteed, if that’s what you’re looking for. And it is definitely what these guys are looking for.
Most of them don’t do it for me though. I won’t go off with any man just to get off. I need to feel those butterflies in my stomach. I need to really like the guy on both a physical and emotional level before I sleep with him. If I don’t feel that, I might as well just go home and masturbate. In some cases, a vibrator is better than a real-life dick, in my opinion. Sonia, on the other hand, will take a live dick over a dildo any night of the week, no matter who it’s attached to.
Colin is the only one here I’ve slept with. I like him. He’s cute, funny, and sexy. But I’ve had my fun with him, and now I’m not too keen on having sex with him again. But as he buys me another drink, I know he’s up for it. I don’t want to lead him on.
“I’m good after this one,” I tell him. “I think it’s going to be an early night for me. I work early tomorrow.”
His shoulders visibly slouch as he scoffs softly. “Sure.”
I do crave human touch. I don’t quite know what’s wrong with me. Ordinarily, I’d run off with him at the end of the night. He’d do things to me and make me feel amazing. But the problem is that I don’t want him to make me feel good. I don’t crave his touch. I only crave August.
“So is your boss a douchebag?” Colin asks.
I smile, mulling it over. “Yep… kind of… definitely.”
August
I’m not quite certain what in the heavens is wrong with me. I’ve managed to keep an acceptable distance between Ruby and me all week. In fact, my new approach has worked wonderfully. We work in the same house, but we might as well be working in separate buildings. We’ve communicated mostly by email, as per my direction. To my delightful surprise, she is quite autonomous.
Yet she still consumes me.
I’ve considered a work-at-home arrangement, but unfortunately, there are certain resources she might be lacking at home, such as graphics software, access to books and manuscripts, and a decent printer. Plus, it’s always good to have her right here if needed. The truth is I like having her near me – even if I never see her. I do enjoy catching a quick glimpse of her in those tight little skirts and heels she still wears for me. That might be all I need. Just about…
I live with the constant desire to walk over to her just to see her beautiful smile. She does occasionally smile when I’m not being a complete jerk. I love her energy. She’s a ray of sunshine in a dark forest. A spot of bright fuchsia in a dark painting. My body craves her like a cold soul craves the sun.
It’s the last day of the week, and I figure I have earned a small indulgence. I start toward her office, ill at ease. I can’t remember ever feeling this odd mix of emotions: arousal, excitement, and pure fear.
Perhaps I felt it in seventh grade – at my first school dance. Isabelle Jenkins. I had the biggest crush on her, and for a whole week, I’d devised my strategy to ask her for a dance. When I finally did, I could barely utter the words, “W-would you… like to dance, Isabelle?” Pure unfiltered joy filled me when she said yes with a smile. We shared a single dance to a slow song by U2. It was the happiest moment of my young life. But at the end of the dance, Christian Ryan cut in and gave me a look that could only be interpreted as “Stay the hell away from my girlfriend or you’re dead, loser.” I hadn’t even realized that she had a boyfriend.
As I make my way to Ruby’s office, my breath runs away from me as a realization hits me. Ruby Riverstone probably has a boyfriend. A striking woman like her can’t be single. The realization bothers me immensely. I’m being completely irrational. It shouldn’t trouble me at all – she is just my employee after all. Yet the thought of someone else getting to do all the things I want to do with her makes me green with envy.
Suddenly, I desperately want to know. I know she isn’t married or engaged because those lovely hands I’ve gazed at so many times are bare – save for a quirky mood ring she wears on her right middle finger. I always enjoy catching a quick glance of it. It’s never the same colour – sometimes blue, occasionally purple, sometimes green, and once black.
I suck in a deep breath before walking into her doorway. I do so slowly, watching her. She’s at her desk, hunched over a binder. I recognize the large black binder labelled with the number five. It’s my latest book, which I’ve asked her to give a quick beta read. One hand holds a pen she chews on. Those full red lips all over that pen is quite unsanitary. Is she doing that to all my pens? I desperately want to be that pen.
Her other hand is buried in her hair. She’s transfixed, completely consumed by my words, which arouses me to no end. I can’t peel my eyes from her. I want to watch her read all day. I want to see her arousal, to see her get lost in what I’ve created. I wonder if she likes my words, if she enjoys the dark turn of my thoughts, if she loves how my mind works. I wonder if she loves the idea of being dominated, of being held against her will. I wonder if she gets off on the dark, intense raw sex
scenes. I wonder if she is fully aroused and wet.
An erection presses against the thick fabric of my jeans as I stand there in full stalker mode. I’m being a complete and utter deviant, watching her like this. But against all common sense, I cannot pull myself away. My feet are glued to the floor.
Her head jerks up swiftly.
I hadn’t expected it, and my breath hitches. My heart pounds. “Uh… I-I didn’t want to disturb…” I don’t quite know what to say. I’ve definitely been caught staring.
“It’s fine,” she says with a hint of a smile. “Please come in, sir.”
Sir. I love the sound of that word on her lips. I’m about to ask her not to call me sir – it sounds odd – but it also arouses me, so I don’t say a word. I want her to call me sir again. I walk slowly closer to her desk. Her usual animated expression is absent. Her mouth is straight, slightly parted, and her lids are heavy. I can’t tell if she’s tired or aroused.
“I was… I was just reading book five,” she explains, not quite looking at me.
I shoot a quick glance at the binder and see that she’s about halfway through, right in the middle of a raw and filthy scene. She’s aroused.
“I see,” I say softly, staring at her mouth. “What are your thoughts so far?”
She pulls her gaze to mine, and those big blue eyes almost do me in. “I…” She sounds breathless. “I thought…” She can’t seem to find her words until she stares at her desk. “I think it’s very consuming. I like it very much.”
As I detect a hit of tremble in her voice, I realize I’m making her uncomfortable. I can’t believe I’ve been so obtuse. Of course she would be uncomfortable. She’s smack in the middle of reading an erotic scene, and her boss, the man who pays her, the man she wants to please, stands over her and asks her how his filthy, dirty words make her feel.
I turn away from her desk. “I’m sorry. Please finish your beta read.” I stare at the photos on her wall, photos I took not so long ago… before Olivia… “You can leave all your feedback and comments on the Word file I provided. Or you can write your thoughts directly on the hard copy if you’d prefer. There’s absolutely no need to discuss it. In fact, it’s best if we don’t, as I’m likely to forget some important points.” I turn back to find her motionless, staring at me with a blank expression.