by Vivian Ward
“Why wouldn’t she? You’re pretty, you’re smart, you’re tidy, and best of all, you’re sweet.”
“I hope you’re right. I really want her to like me. What’s she like anyway?”
“Linda?” I ask. “She’s quiet at first but she warms up to people quickly. She’s a pleaser so she’ll go out of her way to make sure you’re happy and that you like her. I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about.”
“What does she do for fun?” Ally asks.
I shrug my shoulders. “How should I know?”
“You’re her boss! You don’t know what she likes?”
“I do know a few things, actually,” I say as I sit up to defend myself. “Let’s see. She likes Italy, in fact, that’s where she’s at right now. Linda likes comedies, she’s never had any children, and if you tell her your favorite food, she’ll make it on your birthday, when you’re sick, or when she wants a favor,” I laugh.
Ally likes this and sits up with me, interested to learn more about Linda before her return. “What kind of favors does she ask for?”
“Nothing big,” I say. “Sometimes she’ll ask for an extra day off or she’ll ask if she can bring her sister to swim in the pool or to soak in the hot tub.”
“Wait a minute! There’s a hot tub here? How have I not seen this?”
I push her back on the bed. “Because it’s in the basement and we haven’t gone down there. Do you want me to show you?”
“Umm, yes!” she says, like it’s the dumbest question she’s heard. “And tell me more about her sister. How come she doesn’t have any children? Is she married?”
I laugh at all of her questions as she follows me down to the basement. “You’ll have to talk to her to find out all of those things.” She gives me a look of disbelief. “If I tell you everything about her now, you won’t have anything to talk to her about when she comes back.”
Mimicking my words, she makes a face and sticks out her tongue at me. “Oh, my! This is fancy!” she says as we walk into the basement. “Tell me why we’re not down here more?”
Most people think my basement is pretty neat. There’s a mini arcade, a pool table, a hot tub, my home gym, and a movie theater but it’s not fun when you’re always alone so I mostly just use it for the gym and stay upstairs.
“When I had—,” my phone begins to ring so I pull it out of my pocket in case it’s important. “Hang on, it’s Tyler,” I say. “I’ll take this upstairs. The reception down here isn’t too great.”
She nods, checking out all of the arcade games and quickly dismisses me. Taking the stairs two at a time before it goes to voicemail, I pick up and say, “Hello?”
“Hey, Colton! Do you have a minute to talk?”
“I’m a little busy but what do you need?” I ask him.
“I was wondering if you’ve had any time to think about my offer. I know it might have caught you off guard but I wanted to touch base again and let you know that I’m serious. I’ll buy the club from you and take it off your hands.”
It’s something that I’ve thought a great deal about but I haven’t had time to sit down and process it, nor have I been able to sit down with my attorney.
“I don’t know,” I say. “That’s my baby, and I don’t know if I could just give her up. I’ve put in a lot of time and effort, you know?”
“I know, I know,” he replies. “But look at it like this: you’re not there most of the time, you’ve seemed to have lost your interest, and I’m still very much into the lifestyle. Seems to me like you’re settling down, so it only makes sense to hand over the reigns to someone who’s more of an ‘active’ owner,” he says, putting emphasis on the word active.
I don’t like the sound of anything he’s saying one bit. “I know what you’re saying, but let me think about it. This is a big step for me and I need more time to think about it. What’s in it for you anyway? You seem awfully interested.”
“Women!” he says. “I’ve been thinking that some things around the club would be better if a few changes were made, and I doubt you’d go for them. I’d also like more control over the suppliers, the inventory, and all that.”
“Before I just hand over my baby, what kind of rules did you have in mind? You can’t just go changing things on her.”
“For starters, I’d like to make the invites more public to grow the member base. Maybe we can get some younger blood in there, you know what I mean?”
I think opening it to the public would be a huge mistake. It would lose its appeal for existing members, plus if anyone knew that the club originally linked back to me, it could spell big trouble. There’s also the fact that Ally and I might like to play there at some point. She seemed very interested in the voyeur room, and I’d definitely like to take her back to it. With her shy personality, she may never play in a larger club. Sometimes small, private groups are better for reasons just like this.
“I can’t let you wreck my baby,” I say. “Let me think about giving her up and I’ll get back to you.”
“Fair enough. I’ll touch base with you soon, my friend.”
It’s not until I turn around and see an irate Ally staring at me. She is so pissed off right now that I can practically see steam coming out of her ears.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, trying to pull her into my arms.
“What’s wrong?!” She pushes me away. “When were you going to tell me that things were over and that you were going to break up with me? Why are we moving all of my shit into the house?!”
With each question she’s barreling at me, her voice raises another octave until she’s about to break glass.
“Slow down! What the hell are you talking about? Baby, if I was going to break up with you, I sure as hell wouldn’t be killing myself to lug all of your shit up the stairs. Why are you asking me these absurd questions?”
She puts her hand on her hips, and says, “First of all,” as she waves her finger in the air. And that’s when I know I’m completely fucked.
Chapter 19
Ally
You said that I was your baby and that you didn’t know if you could just give me up like that. I heard you saying how much time and effort you’ve put into me and,” I break down and starts sobbing.
“No, no, baby,” he says, pulling me close to his chest. “You’re misunderstanding the conversation, honey.”
“No, I’m not,” I cry, leaving a puddle of tears on his shirt. “I heard it all.”
“Babe, listen. I’m not breaking up with you. That night that Tyler was here, he made me a business deal and that’s what we were discussing. I haven’t decided if I want to take it or not. That’s all.”
Hearing the sincerity of his voice helps me dry up my tears. “What was the offer?” I ask.
Hesitant, he carefully chooses his words, which makes me nervous. “He wants to buy the club from me but I’m not sure that I want to sell it.”
I’m shocked. I have no clue why Tyler wants to buy it from him, but it makes me feel a bit relieved. Call me crazy, but I don’t know how many wives or girlfriends are comfortable with their man owning a secret sex club and if they are out there, how many are happy about it? Is he faithful?
The bigger question is would Colton be faithful? I’d like to believe that he would be but everything is so new and we’re still learning each other and establishing that trust.
But it also makes me curious as to why he wants to keep it. What—or who—is he holding on to? The latter gets to me and I have to ask. “Why do you want to keep it?” I ask, my voice quiet and reserved. I’m almost afraid of what his answer will be but I have to know.
“You want to be with me, explore things, and play, right?” he asks. I nod. “Ally, I remember seeing you in the voyeur room. It was so fucking hot. I’d love nothing more than to take you back in there for some fun, but Tyler is wanting to change things. He wants to make it public, grow the club bigger, and I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. The more people who are involv
ed means taking more risks, more things could go wrong and I don’t know if that’s something I want to be part of. I don’t know if that’s something that I want you to be part of.”
His honesty takes me by surprise. If he can be this honest with me at the very beginning of our relationship, I have no doubt he’ll always be faithful to me.
“Do what you think is right. If you want to sit on it for a while, then that’s what you do. There’s no rush,” I tell him. “We can always decide later if that’s something we both want to do.”
“I know, and his stupid ideas are exactly why we’re not 50/50 partners. He comes up with great ideas all the time, but most of them don’t pan out.”
“So if you’re not 50/50 partners, what are you?” I ask out of curiosity.
“We’re 70/30. No way would I ever split something with someone after I created it and did all of the work for. He’s more of just a silent partner, like an investor. Honestly, the only reason I brought him in on it was more of an insurance policy, in case something happened to me. I’d have someone to step up to run the club before anyone could find out that it was in my name so it didn’t tarnish my family’s reputation.”
Kissing him on the cheek, I say, “I’m behind you in whatever you decide.”
Logging in for work is the last thing I want to do but I tell myself that it’s Friday and the weekend is here so if I just get all of my stuff done as fast as possible, it’ll be over before I know it. I’m so ready for the weekend, too. It’ll be the first time I can relax for two whole days with no plans instead of moving, unpacking, re-organizing, and worrying about everything else.
Signing into the system feels sort of like a trip to the dentist. Nobody wants to do it, but the faster we get it over with, the better off we are.
The first thing I do is check my email to see what dumb ass piece Gretta wants me to write today. You know, I’ve been thinking about it and if things don’t change for me, I might just write freelance articles and start my own website. I’ve seen a few successful Indie blogs in various cities where journalists have started reporting on local news stories and really gained a following. I wouldn’t mind that one bit, but the problem is that you’ll never have big name recognition. You’ll always be the little guy, unless something major happens and you’re the first to write about it, and maybe get it over to a big paper before your story can be compromised. Those are a lot of maybe’s and they’re all highly unlikely.
Scrolling through my email, I see her editorial notes on the piece that I submitted to her on Wednesday, and a couple of emails about items that were either lost or found in the department’s lunch room, and then I see an email that I’ve been copied on from Gretta and Darcy. My eyeballs nearly fall out of my head when I read what they’ve been discussing since yesterday afternoon, apparently.
RE: Combining Tasks
Allison and Darcy,
It has come to my attention that Greg would like to combine some of the job tasks that the two of you ladies share. In doing this, it has created a new job opening for an extra intern whom he will be moving into Darcy’s cubicle effective tomorrow.
Since Allison now works remotely, her desk will be re-assigned to Darcy immediately.
Allison, upon your return, we will find a new work station for you at that time. If you have any personal items in or at your desk, Darcy will be kind enough to make sure that you receive them upon your return to work.
We thank you in your cooperation and understanding!
Sincerely,
Gretta Richards
Senior Editor, The Gateway Times
This is the worst thing that could possibly happen. I’d completely forgotten about the story I’d written on Colton sitting on my desktop at work until now. There’s been so much happening that it completely slipped my mind and before this, there was no reason to freak out because nobody would use my desk so it would never be discovered.
I check the date on the email and then stare at the calendar on my computer. Gretta sent out these orders yesterday afternoon and they were to basically go into effect immediately. That means Darcy’s probably moving into my desk this very minute.
Panicking, I feel my stomach begin to drop as my heart races. If she finds that story about Colton, I’m a dead duck sitting in water—actually, we both are. She knew that I was writing the story, and it blew her stupid altar boy story out of the water. I know she’ll try to cash in on it as soon as she realizes what it is.
Man! I’m so pissed off. I spent over a month working on that piece, spelling out every dirty secret about the club, giving away as much of Colton’s private information as I possibly could, and dragging his name through a hypothetical pile of dog doo-doo. And not only that, but I spent the last week and a half before I left polishing that turd nicely so that no matter how bad it reeked, Gretta would love it and she would let me publish it.
She’ll ruin Colton’s name with it, and she’ll take—and get—full credit for it. And even if her name is on that piece, he will know it’s my work. I’m the only one close enough to him that could write about his secrets and tell the world what the big, bad Colton Kaswell looks like in the eye of the public.
When I wrote that article about him, I had no clue what he was really like. I only knew the rumors I’d heard about him at the time, yet shortly after meeting him I was quickly drawn into his dark web. I liked him right out of the gate.
I have to tell him about this. If the shoe was on the other foot, I know he’d do the same for me. Maybe we can figure this out together or he’ll know of a way to fix it. I quickly respond to the email.
Darcy,
If you find any of my personal items that I left behind, please box them up so I can stop by to get them by Monday. In the off chance that you find any work documents on my computer, simply put them in a folder and send them as an attachment so I can download them and decide what I’d like to do with them.
All of the good ink pens are in the right desk drawer. Stay away from those. Kidding! Katie over in supplies knows where to get more if you run out.
Talk soon,
Ally
I pace the room as I try to figure out the best way to tell Colton what’s going on. He’s going to be upset no matter what because he doesn’t know that I actually wrote the story. He was suspicious that I was going to do it, but he has no idea that it was already written, edited, and waiting to go. If he wouldn’t have taken me out of my apartment that Friday night, I was going to turn it in to my editor come Monday morning. He literally saved his own ass the first time. Maybe he’ll be nice enough to help me save him the second time.
All afternoon, I’m unable to work on the dumb assignment that Gretta gave me, which won’t really matter if Colton kills me when he finds out what’s going on. This time she wants me to write about the uptick of births this summer. Who cares? Stick a ‘Baby-On-Board’ sign in your window and call it a day. Nobody cares that more people screwed this past winter than the year before.
Oh, and then she wants me to add a nice Mother’s Day treat for mom’s since we’re already publishing the increased summer births in St. Louis this year.
As the clock grows closer to 5:30, I know he’ll be walking through the door at any moment. Playing out a few scenarios in my mind, I think of ways to break the news to him. I wonder how he’ll take the news if he’s drunk. Maybe he won’t care as much, or he could get really angry and start breaking things, but Colton isn’t a mean drunk. He’s more of a happy-go-lucky kind of drunk.
I could also tell him after giving him a mind-blowing orgasm. At that point, he might be so worn out that he’s too tired to do anything about it and by the time he has the energy again, he’ll have had some time to think about it.
When I ask him things, it’s always so easy for him to tell me the truth. He’s always so straightforward and honest with me. The very least I owe him is the same. I finally decide that I will tell him the truth, even if he’ll kill me. It really sucks because Lind
a is coming back to work on Monday so now I might never get to meet her.
Chapter 20
Colton
Ally’s been acting different since the minute I came home. I’m not sure what’s going on but she seems nervous, like she’s worried about something. I know because I can tell by looking at her eyes. My chocolate stars aren’t glowing tonight.
Instead, they look sad and droopy; the glimmer is gone. I’m not sure what could be on her mind. She didn’t even leave the house today, but I suspect she must’ve received a phone call or something.
My mind starts to wander and I think about Tyler and Brooke, and his outstanding business offer. The offer that I haven’t yet accepted and I wonder if the two of them have conspired against me to wear down Ally so that I’ll cave and say yes. I know it’s a long shot but I can’t think of anything else that would be bothering her.
Pouring myself a drink, I take a seat beside her and ask her how her day went. For a moment, she opens her mouth like she’s going to say something but then stops before trying again.
“It was fine,” she blinks. Her answer isn’t very compelling, so I try a different approach.
“Anything happen today?” staring at her, I gulp down the amber liquid in my glass but, still, nothing comes out of her mouth. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re holding something back from me?”
I figure cutting to straight to the point is my best—and maybe only—option since she’s not talking any other way. After an awkward pause, she swallows so hard that I can hear it, followed by her heart beating. Her face breaks out in a cool sweat even though it’s beginning to flush.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Maybe nothing is wrong, maybe she’s just sick. When she still doesn’t answer, I begin to worry that maybe she’s pregnant and she’s afraid to tell me. “Ally,” I shake her arms. “Are you pregnant?”