Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

Sal chortled. “Based on Weaver’s stick-up-the-ass countenance this morning, I’d say he didn’t get any action.”

  “Shut up,” Ben snapped. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

  “Nope, he didn’t get laid,” Sal said, turning to Rick. “Pay up.”

  Rick pulled a bill out of his wallet and slapped it into Sal’s outstretched palm. Sal stuffed it in his pocket and walked off down the hall, guffawing.

  Ben’s face flamed. He glowered at his computer screen, trying not to give in to the rage that was building in his chest. If he didn’t need this job—and if people didn’t already think he was a little unhinged—he had half a mind to chase after Rizzoli and take him out with a Bruce Lee flying sidekick to the head.

  “Hey man,” Rick said, seeing his expression. “I’m sorry. Rizzoli talked me into the bet.”

  “No big deal,” Ben muttered. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

  Rick, never one to listen, sat down on his desk instead. “Sounds like it didn’t go well.”

  “Nope. Didn’t go well at all.”

  “How’d she like the necklace? I saw how calloused your fingers were from making it. What woman wouldn’t like the time and effort you put into that gift? I thought it was creative, man. Really creative.”

  Ben shrugged. “It blew out the fucking window. Some truck driver is now ten grand richer.”

  Rick inhaled deeply. “Wow. What the hell happened?”

  “I said, it blew out the window. After she tried it on.”

  “Wow, that sucks. Sorry to hear that. You can’t always foresee such things. But why did you roll down the window in the first place? Doesn’t sound like the best idea—”

  “Kate had a headache and needed fresh air,” Ben interrupted. “A terrible pounding headache from having a gluten-intolerance reaction to the Christian-Grey breakfast I’d ordered. She spent the morning shitting in the bathroom. So romantic.”

  “Goddamn.” Rick ran a hand over his thinning hair. “That’s terrible.”

  “Yep. That was after our helicopter pilot had a Nam flashback and almost got us killed by the SWAT team.”

  “You’re pulling my leg!”

  “Not at all.”

  Rick paused. “You know, I might’ve seen something about that on the news.” He stared at Ben. “Holy shit, was that you?”

  “Yep. Just the beginning of our wonderful weekend compliments of Christian Grey. Oh, and remind me to fill you in on when the limo driver opened the door and exposed my wife’s naked ass to twenty bystanders on the streets of Beverly Hills as I tried to spank her.”

  Rick stared at him, then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, brother. I really am. But that’s hilarious.”

  “Glad you think it’s so funny.” He turned to his monitor and pretended to study it. “Do you mind? Got work to do.”

  “I hope you at least made love to her after all that. Please tell me you did.”

  “Kate was in bed with a headache all day after we got home,” Ben snapped. “I couldn’t even enter the room. So, no, it wasn’t what I’d call a successful weekend.”

  Rick patted him on the back. “Don’t give up, man. Sometimes you have to try, try again. Hey, you still have another chance.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I brought the whip. I have it in the car.”

  Ben shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m done with the whole Fifty Shades thing.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. You’ve got to try it. Amanda loved being whipped last night. Best sex of our life. You should’ve seen her, crawling around on her hands and knees and begging for more as I cracked that puppy over her haunches again and again—”

  “Okay, I get the picture,” Ben said, cutting him off. “Glad it’s working for you, buddy, but I’m not interested.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll give it to you at lunch.” He walked off.

  Ben exhaled in exasperation. Whip his wife after all that had happened?

  Over his dead body.

  CHAPTER 18

  Stolen Pleasure

  At 12:00, Rick Johnson caught up with Ben near the lunchroom. “Here,” he said, nudging a brown paper bag into Ben’s hand. “Take it. You’ll thank me later.”

  “I told you, I’m not interested in the whip. I’ve created enough disasters as it is with this whole Fifty Shades thing. I’m lucky my marriage has even survived.”

  “You can’t give up. From what it sounds like, you were close. She let you spank her! That’s a great sign. Once you get the hang of this whole BDSM thing, there’s no better sex in the world. It’s the best-kept secret.”

  “Hardly a secret since everyone’s reading the goddamn book,” Ben snapped. “Nope, I’m fine. I don’t need all the bells and whistles. I’m okay with having a boring, vanilla sex life.”

  “Except you aren’t even having that, from what you’ve told me.”

  Ben grimaced. Why the hell had he ever divulged his secrets to this jack-hole?

  Sal sauntered down the hall toward them with a group of babbling coworkers.

  Great. That’s all he needed was Sal sniffing around, asking questions, and embarrassing him in front of everyone.

  Rick thrust the bag at him. “Take it.” From his expression, he wasn’t going to concede.

  Ben swiftly grabbed the brown bag and stuffed it under his arm. “Don’t say a word of this to anyone.” He jabbed a finger in Rick’s face.

  Rick grinned. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Sal approached. “How’s it going?” His beady brown eyes assessed them both.

  “Joining us for lunch, Rizzoli?” Rick asked.

  Good luck finding my sandwich this time, Ben thought, glaring at Sal.

  “Why not?” Sal replied. “I’ll save you guys seat. Look for me sitting with the new-hire.” He nudged Ben and nodded toward a passing buxom secretary. “Want to bet I’ll be in her pants by tonight?”

  “I don’t want to bet anything,” Ben said. He clenched his fist by his side. Why did this fuck-face always have to rub it in? He seemed to take sadistic pleasure in proving to Ben he was a sex magnet.

  Sal puffed his chest out, grinning. “She’s going to love what I have in store for her. Got the handcuffs ready, the paddles, the Kegal balls—”

  “Ben?” A voice behind them startled him. Kate poked her head out of the lunchroom, a smile on her face.

  “Hi,” he said, going to her side. “What are you doing here?” The guys disappeared past her into the lunchroom. “What brings you to the office?”

  She smiled at him. “I thought we could have lunch together.” She held up a brown paper bag. “I

  brought my sandwich.”

  “What a nice surprise.” He stroked her cheek. She looked so beautiful, standing there with her sweet eyes and soft smile. He felt such pride at that moment, and relief that she still loved him after all that had happened.

  “How’s your headache?” he asked.

  “All gone.” She smiled. “I went and finally got my eyes checked. And guess what? I need glasses. That’s why I kept having all those headaches.”

  His mouth dropped open. “So the headaches were real?”

  “Of course they were real.” She met his eyes. “Did you think I was faking them?”

  “No, of course not,” he lied. “So it was your eyes all along?”

  “Yes, apparently my eyesight was worse than I’d thought. The headaches were horrible, but I had no idea my sight had gone down the drain that much. I can’t get away with those drugstore reading glasses anymore. I need the whole enchilada: distance, close-up, you name it.” She pulled a glasses case out of her purse and opened it. She put on the black plastic frames and smiled shyly at him. “What do you think?”

  He pulled her close. “You look like a sexy teacher.”

  She giggled and batted him away.

  “Hey, want to have a romantic dinner tonight? At that steak place on Main?”

  Her eyes shone. “I’d love to.”
/>   “Maybe we can get frisky after?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “No more headaches?”

  “No more headaches.” She met his eyes. “Before we have great, passionate sex, I have two conditions, though.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  “One, we rip up your contract. I have no interest in fixing the garage.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook on that one.” He smiled.

  “Two, I want Ben Weaver, not Christian Grey.”

  “Deal.”

  They shook hands and grinned at each other.

  Rick stuck his head around the corner. “Saved you both some seats.”

  “Thanks, man, but we’re going to eat outside,” Ben said. He turned to Kate. “There’s a nice little bench out front where we can be alone.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Let me get my lunch.”

  “Isn’t that it?” She pointed at the brown bag under his arm.

  “No, that’s something I need to give back to someone. Wait here.”

  He dodged into the buzzing lunchroom. Rick was sitting with Sal at a table with the buxom secretary and two overly made-up receptionists, engrossed in conversation. Ben didn’t want to take the chance of being embarrassed. He’d give Rick his whip back later, maybe slide it under his desk before he left work that evening.

  He headed to the refrigerator to get his lunch. He opened the white plastic door and poked his head in. The Triskets box he’d shoved to the back was nowhere to be seen. He rummaged around, pushing lunches and sandwiches aside, rage building. There was no sight of the cracker box or his sack lunch.

  Sure enough, Sal had struck again.

  His lunch was gone.

  CHAPTER 19

  Whip It Good

  Ben slowly turned and caught Sal grinning at him from across the lunchroom. Sal said something to the buxom secretary at his side then lifted his Coke can at Ben in a silent “cheers.”

  Red dots popped up in front of Ben’s eyes. He stalked across the room, adrenaline pumping through his veins and his heart thumping in his throat. He walked up to Sal’s table and banged it with his fist.

  The receptionists jumped.

  “Gosh damn,” the buxom secretary said.

  Ben glowered down at Sal. “Where is it?”

  Sal looked up with large, faux-innocent eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “My lunch. Give it back.”

  “I haven’t seen your lunch.” He grinned at the buxom secretary. “He’s a little reactive today. Didn’t get laid this weekend.” The secretary giggled.

  Ben lunged for Sal. “Give me back my fucking lunch!”

  The secretary gasped. The receptionists drew back, wide-eyed. The lunchroom went quiet, all eyes turned in his direction.

  Sal jumped up and pushed the table aside. He slammed his palm into Ben’s chest and thrust him backward.

  Ben staggered but caught his balance. He pointed his finger at Sal. “You stole my fucking lunch again. I’m sick of this shit!”

  Sal bent and picked up the brown paper bag that Ben had dropped. “Isn’t this your lunch?”

  People tittered, and there were a few whispers of ‘crazy.”

  The room went white, then red. Rage writhed through Ben’s body like an eight-headed hydra. Sal was making him look unhinged again, ruining his reputation. Not to mention outright lying about stealing his lunch. Worse, he was ruining Ben’s precious lunch date with his wife.

  A much-needed lunch date.

  He grabbed the paper bag out of Sal’s hand. The bag ripped open, and the whip fell out onto the slick beige floor.

  A gasp went up into the lunchroom, then sounds of hushed murmuring. A few people tittered.

  Ben’s face flamed hot.

  Sal threw back his head and let out a loud chortle of laughter.

  Anger zipped through Ben’s body. Without thinking, he bent and picked up the whip. It was a black leather snakelike device, much longer than he’d expected. He lifted it high above his head, then cracked it in the air.

  He relished the shocked expression on Sal’s face. He cracked it again.

  Gasps and murmurs rippled through the lunchroom.

  “Dude,” Sal said, putting his hands up. “What the hell are you doing? Chill.”

  “Ben?” Kate’s voice rang out behind him. Ben turned.

  Without warning, he was thrown to the ground from behind. The whip slithered across the floor. Sal jumped on him and began pummeling him with his fists.

  Kate screamed. Shouts rang out. Men pulled Sal off him, and Ben jumped to his feet. He glanced at his wife. She looked horrified and close to tears. He needed to make her laugh somehow, to lighten up the situation. He thumbed his nose at Sal. “Nano, nano.” Maybe this time it would work. He glanced at his wife again, and she gave him a ghost of a smile. Promising.

  He wiggled his thumb at Sal. “Nano, nano, fuckhead.” A few people giggled.

  Sal lunged at Ben with a roar. Ben stuck his foot out. Sal flew through the air, limbs flailing, and then sprawled to the ground. A collective gasp went up.

  “Chill out, guys,” someone said. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

  Cursing, Sal grabbed for the whip on the ground. He jumped up, grinning with cilantro-laced teeth. A few men tried to hold him back, but he pushed them off. He approached Ben, slapping his hand with the whip. “Still failing at your Fifty Shades of Grey experiment, Weaver? Doesn’t surprise me. You’ve never been good at using your tools.” Hushed murmurs, then someone snorted in laughter.

  Someone said, “C’mon, this is getting out of hand.”

  Ben gritted his teeth, balling his fists at his side.

  “Let’s go, Weaver.” Sal lifted the whip high above his head. “I’ll show you how it’s done. Prepare to beg for mercy.”

  “That’s enough, Rizzoli,” Rick shouted. “Do you want to get fired?”

  Ignoring him, Sal took a wide-legged, macho stance. He puffed out his chest and swung the whip over his head with all his might, attempting to crack it. Instead, the whip just uncoiled out of his hand like a limp fruit roll.

  Laughter rippled around the room.

  Sal’s face twisted in rage. He tried to crack the whip again, but it just unfurled from his hand like a flaccid licorice vine.

  More loud snickers.

  “Looks like there’s only one failed tool in this room,” Ben offered. More laughter echoed around the room.

  “You tell him, Ben,” someone said.

  Sal’s face darkened. His lip curled. “I’m not the impotent bastard who hasn’t been laid in years.”

  Shocked silence ensued, followed by muffled whispers. Someone let out a nervous giggle. The room waited to see what would happen next.

  “Yeah,” Sal continued, smirking. “Your poor, poor wife. Everyone knows you can’t get it up or keep it up.”

  Kate let out a loud gasp.

  “Enough, Rizzoli,” someone called out. “That’s cold.”

  The room darkened then blurred, with Sal’s twisted, grinning face at its center.

  Ben didn’t remember much of what happened next, except in bits and pieces.

  He remembered grabbing the whip and cracking it again and again in the air until shrieks rang out and Sal cowered against a table.

  He vaguely recalled someone yell, “Whip Rizzoli’s ass!”

  Then Sal threw the table over. “Want to play tough guy, shithead?” he shouted. “Bring it on!” Shouts and commotion ensued as Sal scrambled toward him.

  Then Ben vaguely remembered the boss bursting into the lunchroom, just as Sal grabbed the whip from his hand. Sal raised the whip and brought it down, missing Ben. Instead, the whip cracked the Executive Vice President against the face with a loud, resounding snap of leather on skin. The boss let out an involuntary scream, his hand flying to his cheek and his glasses bouncing off onto the ground.

  There was a loud, collective gasp in the lunchroom, followe
d by dead silence.

  A long welt poked through the boss’s skin like an intestinal worm, raised and white. In an instant, it morphed into an angry, purple-red slash.

  The boss stood in stunned silence for a moment, then slowly bent and collected his lopsided glasses from the lunchroom floor.

  He turned and calmly asked his secretary to call security. Then he fired Sal on the spot.

  First Sal begged, and then argued for his job back. He gesticulated and pointed at Ben, saying it was all his fault.

  The boss calmly told him to get out. Sal cursed at him and said he was making the dumbest mistake of his life. The boss replied, “Really, who’s the dumbass here, you or me?” to which Sal replied, “Everyone knows you only hire smart people.” Shoving ensued, people held the two men apart, and the boss’s pants somehow ended up split down the back. Then Sal was wrestled to the floor and held down by five men, including Rick Johnson.

  Soon after, Sal was escorted out the door by security. The Executive Vice President shouted after him, “See you in court, buddy!” then composed himself by straightening his bent glasses and commanding his secretary to call home for a change of pants. Then he told the others to get back to work. He marched out of the room with his glasses dangling from his nose, an angry red welt oozing across his cheek, and his pants flapped open in the back like a hospital gown.

  The lunchroom buzzed with commotion. The buxom secretary added further to the drama by bursting into tears and running out the door after Sal, wailing his name.

  Ben didn’t recall much else, except one last thing.

  He remembered grabbing Kate’s hand and racing out the door into the sunshine.

  CHAPTER 20

  She Comes

  “I was so turned on watching you with that whip,” Kate said, offering him a bite of her sandwich.

  “You’re kidding,” he said.

  “Not at all.” She grinned.

  “You liked it?”

  “Heck, yeah.” She gave him an impish smile.

  He leaned over and moved a strand of hair out of her eyes. He gazed at her tenderly, his head only now clearing as the haze of adrenaline started to subside in his veins. “I love you, you know that?” He pulled her close.