by Jamie Knight
“You would?”
Again, he nods, and again I see how in-heaven he’s looking now. How far away any bad memories with his boss are now. And I’m happy that I’m the one taking him away from all that and giving him something better and brighter to focus on.
“Then it’s a date,” I say softly, squeezing his hand. “We’ll go shopping next weekend, just you and I, and you’ll come back to work on that Monday looking every bit the successful, handsome man I know you to be, Tommy.”
Tommy nods. He wipes some tears away.
“Thank you, Melissa. That’s so kind of you.”
His adorable boyish face scrunches up under some tears, and they make his fuller cheeks look all cuter.
“I would love to do something like that with you, but only if I get to pay for myself. You’ve already paid for enough for me.”
He gestures to the desserts and the surrounding restaurant.
“With this extravagant meal on such short notice, with the lunch from before…”
He looks speechless at my kindness and at how ready and willing I am to shower it on him.
“Don’t worry about it, Tommy,” I say just as gently as before, “but if you would like to pay for your own wardrobe, I’m not going to say yes or no. I’m going to let you do as you like.”
I stroke the top of his hand with my thumb, smiling.
“You are my boss, after all.”
Just by saying that, I’m feeling warm and tingly in many places.
Tommy collects himself.
He finishes off the last little bit of the custard pudding he was working on and says, “I am. And I will do as I like, but I will make sure to get you something nice as well, Melissa. You’ve done so much for me. So much that’s out of your job description, it’s not good for it to go unrewarded.”
Delicately, he wipes at his mouth. He curls the napkin around so it can touch both corners.
“You don’t get to refuse that part of it,” he adds, seeing even the slightest bit of rebuttal from me. “If this is going to be a date, then it’s going to be on my terms too, not just yours.”
Color comes to his cheeks around “date” and “my terms” and I swear I can see him fantasizing about putting me over a large wooden desk, and fucking me while I answer his phone calls, all without anybody knowing.
My cheeks go red and hot a second later.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, knowing that’s exactly what I would say if he had me over said desk, and ordered me to answer those phones, and take down notes while in such a position — with his cock in me, or his hands on my breasts, lightly squeezing them.
“Good.” He whips out his phone and asks me for my number. “If we’re going to do this, I need to reach you,” he says, getting out his “business as usual” tone.
His commanding and matter-of-fact one. One I’ve heard before, and one I’m beginning to love more and more, now that Dennis has been taken out like the trash he is.
I gladly give him my number, asking in turn for his. With that settled, I then go about settling the check. It’s pricey, but that’s what I was expecting.
I don’t allow Tommy to see the bill. Not good manners on a date or anywhere else.
I stick my debit card in the billfold and hand it back to the waiter before Tommy can intervene.
I apply the same tactics when the card and receipt come back, and I’m asked to sign and provide a tip for it.
I do both tasks all without him ever seeing.
And then, before he can even make a move to flip up the billfold left on the table, I drag him away from it. I pull him out of the restaurant and toward my car.
If he saw that the dinner bill came to over $200 without tip, it would completely destroy the mood he’s in. It would also completely destroy the idea that this is our first date.
A pseudo-first date, since there was no real plan, and it’s not like we’re going out, but a girl like me can dream, can’t she?
Chapter Thirty-One - Melissa
By the time I get Tommy back to his car in the parking lot of McKenzie Tech, it’s just after eight o’clock in the evening. Although I know I’ve already spent a few good hours with him, I don’t want it to be over. Part of me wants to invite Tommy over to my place for some coffee and some more time to talk and socialize, and maybe even get a little intimate.
But I decide not to. Not because I don’t want to. I really, really want to, but my inner lady tells me to cool my jets. I need to wait to do something so intimate or needy.
Dennis and I just broke up, I just let the news out of the bag for Tommy. Something I haven’t even told Isabella, and I tell her virtually everything, so that part of me compels me to wait. To resist making such an offer, though, there’s nothing technically stopping me anymore.
So, I just say, “Well, Tommy. I guess this is it for tonight.”
I smile.
“Thank you for letting me kidnap you for a few hours.”
Tommy gives the cutest chuckle. One that shakes his whole body.
“I’ve never had so much fun being kidnapped, Melissa, so thank you.”
He smiles at me, almost looking like he’s had more serious alcohol than wine.
He looks happily drunk.
“I can’t wait for next weekend,” he whispers.
His voice and breath shiver filled with lusty anxiety.
His tone is almost begging, and I find that irresistible.
“I can’t wait either,” I admit, my voice mirroring his.
Here, both of us lean closer to each other.
We close the distance between our lips.
“Then don’t,” whispers Tommy. “What if your boss ordered you to give him something before he gets out of the car and goes home to his crappy dad for the weekend?”
I lick my lips, feeling them shiver and tremble with anticipation. “Then…”
Tommy moves closer.
“Then I would have to give him what he asked for,” I murmur. “I would have to give him a little something before letting him go home to his crappy dad. I would have to give him whatever he wants, like the good pet I am.”
Tommy hums with interest.
It’s a light, airy sound.
One that I know is for my benefit as well is my compulsion.
“What would that something be, pet?” he asks me quietly, but forcefully, like he is testing the words.
I don’t answer. I just bring my lips to his and gently kiss. It’s on his lips, but not enough to cover them completely or own them. Just enough to dust them. Immediately after kissing him, I want to kiss him again, but I refrain. I force myself to keep my lips off him once I pull them away.
Tommy sighs blissfully as if my lips are still on him, or he wishes they were.
“God, that was a bad idea.”
I tense up initially afraid that he’s going to say he regrets letting me kiss him, because I’m the secretary and he shouldn’t be seen with me because of his boss and all that, but he follows it up with, “That just made me want more.”
Me too, I think, fidgeting in my seat.
I force myself to grip the steering wheel, so I don’t reach over to grip his cock instead.
Out loud, I say, “I know.”
I know that’s not enough, but it’s all I can think to say.
“But I’m going to save my appetite,” says Tommy.
It’s more to himself than to me.
“I’m going to make sure I’m extra hungry for our actual date next weekend, pet.”
In his words, I can feel the burn of desire. The growl of hunger. And how much he actually doesn’t want to have to wait or save anything, or make himself extra hungry, but he does it anyway.
He does it to show himself and me that he’s strong and noble. He is in control and able to take on burdens, even if they are painful or unwanted.
And that’s when I decide to match them. I take the same “oath”
to save my hunger and my appetite, though I want nothing more than to go home and touch myself. I want nothing more than to run myself a bubble bath and fantasize about him. To think about the kiss I just gave him while getting myself off, but I can’t. I won’t. Not with these words.
“I’ll wait as well, though I am quite hungry, sir. If you’re going to deny yourself in this way, then so will I. At least until the weekend.”
Tommy leans over and kisses my cheek by surprise, before jumping out of the passenger’s side of the car and saying, “See that you do, pet. I want our time together to be deeply and fully satisfying.”
He doesn’t hesitate to emphasize those words and inspire the fantasies playing around in my head now.
“I’ll be thinking of you this weekend. I’ll call you.” He smiles as he closes the door. “Just to make sure I have the right number.”
“Sure,” I say. “Just to make sure.”
Tommy and I chuckle, enjoying the bullshit we are tossing at each other. He finishes closing his side of my car, and I watch him go the short way to his car and get in.
As he does, I squeal with happiness. I put my hands over my mouth and shout, “God above, he’s so handsome! So adorable! I might die from how wonderful he is!”
Right as I say this, I see Tommy blow a kiss at me from out his window as he circles his less-fancy car out of the parking lot and into the light, late evening traffic.
“Oh my God,” I say, feeling my giggling turn to sobbing. “If this was the guy I was worthy of the whole time, no wonder Dennis left me so suddenly! His careless and cruel treatment of me couldn’t stand up underneath Tommy’s warm and noble heart! Not even from thousands of miles away!”
After that, I don’t remember what happened. Just that I dissolve into fervent prayers to God, asking for Tommy’s safe return home tonight and gratitude for his wisdom in setting me free from the pain and suffering I had with Dennis but was unable to see.
It’s then that I understand part of why we might have been brought together: we both believe we are unworthy. And we need each other to show us otherwise.
Chapter Thirty-Two - Tommy
After my dinner date with Melissa on Friday night, Saturday day and night go by easily. Mostly because I have Melissa and our plans to think about and prepare for. I do research on the kinds of places I think we are likely to go to for our shopping trip. I also take the time to look at my bank account and my budget in preparation.
I do get paid on Saturday, but, as Ms. Vanacore threatened she might, my paycheck is less than I had initially projected. I make a note of it on my phone. I don’t know if I’m actually going to do anything with this information, but I have decided to keep track of everything and anything to do with Ms. Vanacore.
Including the “extra work” she threatened to have me start doing on Monday. I’ve created a document on my phone. I’ve titled it Sunset, knowing that all of this information could be the “sunset” of Vanacore’s career and of her flawless, unmarked reputation.
It’s Sunday now, though, and I’m getting more anxious. More stressed about what exactly it is that I’ve planned to do on Monday. And that is that I’ve decided to go with her demands.
I’ve decided, as Melissa and I touched on a couple times on Friday, to play Vanacore’s little game with her. To act like I want to engage in whatever sexual or intimate activities she wants, to capture them on my phone and gain irrefutable evidence of her predatory behavior.
While all of that sounded good and brave on Friday, now that it’s Sunday evening at about nine o’clock, I’m starting to question the sanity of that idea. The goodness of it, since it will mean that I’m putting myself at risk for any and everything Vanacore may want to do.
I may also not be successful in getting any evidence. Or if I am, she may find out that I’m tricking her. And with a temper like she has, I’m scared of what she might actually do. How she may twist my attempt to corner her to harm me.
Finally, after two or three miserable hours of going back and forth in my head about whether I should or shouldn’t go through with this, I decide to call Melissa. Not only because I promised her I would on Friday evening, but because I need someone and something to get my mind off of the upcoming week at work.
I dial her number, hoping she is still awake. Hoping she doesn’t mind hearing from me.
Melissa picks up after one, maybe two, rings of her cell phone.
“I was wondering when you would call me,” she says, without bothering to ask who it is. She sounds happy, pleasant, though not surprised.
The minute her warm, lightly-accented voice caresses my ears, I’m relaxed and less stressed, though I’m still kicking around what I’m going to do about my boss. I worry about Monday morning when Vanacore will more than likely make good on her threat to get me doing other kinds of “work.”
“What’s up?” Melissa asks me.
“Oh, I’ve just been thinking,” I say.
Melissa hums happily, though I can tell she doesn’t quite buy that that’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about, and she’d be right.
“About you,” I add, “and about other…things…”
On the other end of the phone, I hear a fridge opening, then something clinking, and the sound something glugging in a glass. “Those other things being Monday?” Over this, I hear her sipping on something.
“Am I really that obvious?” I ask.
Or does she just know me that well are ready? Or does she just know what a threat Vanacore really is?
“Not really,” she says, “but I know what you’re doing is risky. And, if I were you, I’d be nervous. I’d be going back and forth about it a lot.”
Great. Maybe this isn’t a good idea, then? But if I’m not going to do something like this, what am I going to do? I can’t avoid her forever. Someday, Vanacore’s going to force our relationship to go sexual. And then what? Just submit to it? Without it doing any further good for anyone else? Just become another silent victim? Like Huckleberry? Like God knows how many others?
“Tommy?” Melissa reaches out to me from my thoughts, as if she can read them along with me.
“I’m here, Melissa.” Just barely.
“If you’re worried about the situation, just remember I’m here for you. I’m going to be looking out for you the best I can, even from behind my secretary’s desk. I’m going to be finding ways to check up on you. To disrupt her.”
I nod, even though I know Melissa can’t see me.
“And I’m going to be checking in with you. With the situation. If it gets too bad, too risky, just tell me. I’ll help get you out before she finds anything out.”
I nod again.
“Remember too: her weakness around you, even though she does a bewitching thing with you, how much she desires you —that’s going to be her downfall. You’re going to make sure of that.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But is it really up to me, though?”
I feel stupid asking it.
Like a knight in shining armor asking if it’s really his job to rescue the princess in the tower, but I can’t help it.
That’s a bit of how I feel. Like it shouldn’t and couldn’t be my job to take this woman down, even though I know it is. It must be, considering Vanacore’s gotten to do her manipulation and abuse of her power for decades now, and no one else has stopped her.
Melissa agrees with me without hearing my thoughts.
“Sometimes it’s the least expected of us who gets given the most important tasks, Tommy. I know you didn’t want this when you got the promotion but think of it this way: by doing what you’re doing, you’re not only going to be helping yourself, and other young men abused and manipulated by Vanacore, but you’re doing the company as a whole a huge favor. This woman is really bad news, Tommy. She can’t be allowed to thrive or infect this company. If you don’t start shining some light on her, who will?”
I wish the answer were otherw
ise, but it isn’t. No one else is in my position, nor do they have the strength or hold over Vanacore that I do. If they did, I wouldn’t be working for her. I wouldn’t be the man she’s trying to add to her list of latest and greatest conquests.
Besides, strong, capable men don’t ask, “Why me?” They ask, “Who is going to stop me?”
And I’m going to be one of those guys.
I’m going to become one for Melissa.
I’m going to be the kind of boyfriend material she deserves.
And if that means going through with my dangerous and risky plan of trying to lure Vanacore and her sexual harassment into the daylight, then I have to do it.
Lawyers shouldn’t do what is comfortable; if they really want to protect the innocent and be a force of good in the world, they have to be willing to be brave. To take risks. And this is just one of them that’s on my shoulders.
The only person who’s going to stop me is myself, and I stopped allowing that to happen the moment I applied for this job. So, I can’t start now.
“You’re right,” I say, just as I sense Melissa is about to call out for me again to see if I’m still with her. “I’m just scared. I hope it goes well. Has the intended result in the end, not something else.”
Not me ending up being unemployable everywhere and anywhere, because Vanacore’s dragged my name through the dirt. My reputation through the mulcher.
“Goodhearted people always win out in the end, Tommy,” says Melissa. “Cruel people win in the short term, but not in the long term. They have control, but only in a limited sense. Truth and goodness will always win out. You represent that truth and goodness, just in a package that no one expects.”
She pauses, taking another sip of her wine.
“Which is something I find irresistibly fascinating and adorable about you, honey.”
Getting called “honey” by her feels extra special. It’s not just something that a woman like her says to everyone, even if she did in the past. It sounds like it’s meant just for me. That it’s warmer, with more tenderness.
And that’s when my mind moves to all the various things Vanacore might ask me to do or might take from me. More kisses. Oral, regular, or anal sex. Which I don’t want to give to her. Only to Melissa, but it might be necessary or unavoidable, given the kind of situation I’m going to evoke and put myself in.
