by Whitney G.
“Sure, there’s an internet café right across the street. Can you give me ten minutes?”
Helen nodded and he walked away.
“Helen, two thousand dollars in addition to the original three thousand? Each? That’s a bit much don’t you think? I don’t think I’ll be able to afford—”
“Get over it, Claire. I said I was paying for everything and we all deserve this trip—especially you. Oh, and guess what the best part is?”
“Does it involve men?”
“You know me so well. The week we’re going is the same week the Chippendale dancers are having their annual strippers’ retreat! How great is that! You should be bowing in my presence.”
“You are a true piece of work, Helen...”
I felt my phone vibrate and saw a text message. Jonathan: “Photography room tomorrow. 5:00. You should wear something similar to what you have on right now.”
I paled. He’s here?
“Claire?” Helen fanned herself. “Why aren’t you bowing?”
“I think Jonathan’s here...I don’t want to turn around. Can you look around and let me know if you see him?”
She turned around in her chair and looked all around. “Um, no...I don’t see him. Did he text you or something?”
I nodded.
“I think I like him already.” She smiled. “You should know that Sandra and I have a running bet on how long this affair will last.”
“Do I dare ask what the time limit is?”
“I bet at least a year.”
“A year? Please. That’s a joke, right?”
“Not at all.” She pulled out her phone. “I did some research on him the other day—for your benefit of course. I couldn’t find anything on him before he dropped out of Harvard though...Anyway, he seems like a good match for you, temporarily anyway. His net worth is 9.5 billion, he’s only had two or three known girlfriends; the last one was over a year ago. And—”
“I don’t have any prior arrests or embarrassing public incidents on my record.” His voice sounded from right behind me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
“Took the words right out of my mouth...” Helen grinned.
“Nice seeing you again, Helen.” He ran his fingers against my bare shoulders.
“Same to you, Jonathan. Would you like to sit down with us?”
He walked from behind me and smiled. “No thank you. I need to get back upstairs to my meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire.” He looked me up and down before walking away.
“I can’t believe you, Helen!” I shook my head. “You did see him, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but he motioned for me not to say anything.” She laughed. “I am definitely going to win this bet. We have to tell Sandra about this!”
“So team, we have narrowed the sPhone blue slogans down to two contenders. This week we’ll need to meet with the beta team regarding the newest tablets and data projects. We also need to plan our commercial shoots so we can—”
I couldn’t focus on anything Mr. Barnes was saying. I was in a state of euphoria and no matter how hard I tried to rejoin my coworkers in the real world, it never happened.
Every day for the past two weeks, I’d been having sex with Jonathan after business hours. At first, we were meeting in the photography room, but after the photographers started hosting later meetings, we took things to wherever an empty space was available—stairwells, janitor’s closets, employee lounges.
There were no deep conversations between us, no eye-opening revelations about our lives; it was just sex. Pure, mind blowing, out of this world sex.
It was like he knew my body better than I did; I’d never had multiple orgasms in my life. Ever!
I’d never thought having so much sex was possible or that sex could be that incredible. I mean, sex with Ryan was “good,” but it never left me getting hot just thinking about it, never left me completely ravaged and on cloud nine for hours after.
Jonathan was an Adonis in bed—well, we hadn’t actually had sex in a bed, but he was amazing nonetheless.
All it took was once glance from him, one slight brush against my skin after a group meeting, and I was wet and ready to go.
“Miss Gracen? Miss Gracen?” Mr. Barnes shot me a quizzical look.
“Yes?” I reluctantly snapped out of my thoughts.
“Do you want to introduce the interns’ presentations?”
“Certainly, Mr. Barnes.” I stood up and looked around the table. “All the interns were given the task of coming up with a commercial for the sPhone blue with animation. We have two groups that are going to present and they each have ten minutes. At the end of the presentations, we need each of you to send an email to myself and Mr. Barnes about which one you feel will better fit the campaign.”
I sat back down and tried not to roll my eyes.
While the first group was setting up their presentation, Jonathan walked into the room. “Hello everyone.” He smiled. “You all don’t mind if I sit in for this do you?”
There were murmurs of “Not at all,” “Of course,” and “Sure.”
He walked around the table and once again took a seat directly in front of me.
Mr. Barnes beamed. “Miss Turner, could you please pass Mr. Statham a copy of the power-points please?”
She walked towards him, blushing bright red, and handed Jonathan a folder. He nodded his head and smiled at her, making her face turn crimson.
The lights dimmed and Jonathan’s eyes immediately met mine across the table. He was giving me his ‘I want you right now’ look, and I couldn’t deal with that right now—not in the middle of the day, not in front of all of my colleagues.
I swiveled my chair around and exhaled, watching the first few minutes of a presentation that was shockingly well done.
I felt my phone vibrating and opened the text. Jonathan: “Turn back around. Now.”
“Only if you agree to stop looking at me. I don’t want other people sensing that we are sleeping together and I can’t focus with you eyeing me...”
“I don’t give a fuck what they think. TURN. AROUND.”
“Pay attention to the presentation. You might learn something.”
I clapped at the end of the first presentation and prepared to take notes on the second, but I received another text from him: “If you don’t turn around within the next sixty seconds, I swear I will walk around this table and fuck you in front of everyone.”
My heart fluttered. I figured he had to be bluffing; he wouldn’t risk his reputation on something so reckless and trivial.
I kept listening to the interns and writing down my thoughts.
“Thirty seconds, Claire...”
I stifled a gasp and texted him back. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
“Alright everyone!” Mr. Barnes said. “Thanks to both intern teams for outstanding work. Directors, make sure you email me and Miss Gracen what you think before you leave for the day. It’s now time for our weekly Zen session, so we need to head on over to the relaxation room.”
I closed my notebook and breathed a sigh of relief. I followed my team across the hall and into a room full of tacky sea-colored bean bags.
As usual, one of the directors turned off the lights and Mr. Barnes lit the three huge Zen candles that stood at the front of the room.
We were supposed to “find” our way to the bean bag that “spoke” to us,” and sit on it for one hour of meditation in the dark. Of course, most of the time people just turned on their music and fell asleep—especially me.
I headed towards my secluded spot in the back corner and started to sit down, but I felt Jonathan wrapping his arms around my waist.
Before I could tell him to stop, he bent down and kissed me until I was out of breath.
“You’re lucky it’s so dark in here,” he whispered. “Next time I’ll do it in the conference room for everyone to see.”
“I—”
He kissed me again and
pulled me close. “Shhhh. Don’t talk.”
“For everyone that doesn’t have their own relaxation music...” Mr. Barnes’ voice was coming from the front of the room. “Please put on the Zen headphones now. I’m going to start playing the ocean music through them in about ten seconds.”
“You should probably try to be as quiet as possible.” Jonathan pulled me over to the corner and slid his hands underneath my skirt.
He can’t be serious...
“Jonathan, stop. This is crazy...” My breath caught in my throat. “Do you know how many people are in here? You wouldn’t—”
“You brought this on yourself.” He kissed me and pulled me down onto a beanbag.
I tore my mouth away from his and tried to stand up, using my hands to push off from the floor, but he snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me close.
“I’m starting the Zen music now,” Mr. Barnes said. “Remember no talking and no cell phone usage please. Oh, and remember to take deep breaths and—”
The rest of his sentence came out muffled. I couldn’t focus.
Jonathan was kissing me relentlessly—not giving me a chance to pull away. When he’d taken every ounce of breath that I had, he pushed my dress up past my thighs and positioned me to straddle his lap.
I heard him unbuckling his pants and un-wrapping a condom, so I tried to get up again, but one of his arms was still tightly snaked around me.
“Jonathan...” I whispered. “Think about this. I—”
“I have,” he said as he slipped two fingers inside of me. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He moved them in and out a few times, and then he brought his mouth close to my ear. “And from the feel of things...You’ve been thinking about it too.”
I suppressed a moan as he placed a kiss on my neck, as he tilted me up and slowly lowered me onto his dick.
“Ahh...Ahhh...Ahhhhh...”
“Shhhh...” He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth and grabbed my hands, placing them on the wall behind him. “You have to be quiet or they’ll hear us...”
“Alright, one last thing everyone.” Mr. Barnes was still talking. “Remember, if anyone is caught talking or if someone’s cell phone goes off, I’ll have to turn on the lights and we’ll have to do the session in the light, without the power of the candles. So, don’t be selfish—the Zen system benefits us all...”
I pressed my hands against the wall, exhaling as Jonathan pushed the top of my dress down and drew one of my nipples into his mouth.
“Claire...” He rubbed his hands across my back, pulling me close, and then he whispered in my ear, “Move.”
I sucked in a breath and rocked against him, trying to not to moan as he rolled his tongue around one of my nipples.
He was teasing it gently, matching the same up and down rhythm I was using with my hips.
I tried to go as slow as I possibly could—knowing that if I sped up I would end up screaming and everyone would see me grinding against our boss. I exhaled each time I sank down—over and over, but it must not have been good enough for Jonathan because he suddenly cupped my ass and moved me up and down himself—at a much faster pace.
“Ahhh...Godddd...stopppp...” I whispered.
“No.” He trapped my bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing my cheeks even harder, bouncing me against him with no finesse.
I let out another moan and heard a loud beeping sound from the front of the room—the sound that meant someone was talking; if it went off again, the lights would automatically come on.
“So, you’re into other people watching?” Jonathan whispered against my mouth. “I’m not opposed to that...” He pressed his lips against mine and kissed me to prevent me from making another sound. He started flexing himself upwards, still holding and controlling my pace with his hands.
I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt an orgasm building inside of me, felt it getting ready to make me scream, so I broke away from Jonathan’s kiss.
“I’m...I’m about to...” I murmured. “I’m—”
He leaned forward and bit my down on my lips. Hard.
My legs started to shake and severe vibrations rippled through my entire body. As the intense pleasure rolled through me, I tried to push myself away from him so I could exhale, scream, breathe—but he didn’t let my mouth go until my body stiffened and stilled.
When he was sure I was done, he released my lips and leaned back against the wall.
I slumped forward against his chest, panting—too angry to think straight. I sat there, still on top of him, wondering if I was dreaming or if he was really that crazy.
“Let me help you.” I heard him say as he gently moved me off of him. “You’re quite the exhibitionist...” He wiped a cloth between my thighs—I assumed it was his suit’s handkerchief, and kissed my forehead as he did it.
Then he pulled my dress back over my thighs and ran his fingers through my hair.
I heard him zipping his pants up and buckling his belt. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but I could feel him staring at me—like he always did when we were finished.
I tried to channel my anger and confusion into something else, anything else, but the ocean sounds and blasting headphone music in the room were way too loud. There were even a few people snoring.
“Follow me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. He pushed a panel in the wall that was behind us, leading me into a dark room with a wooden conference table.
He quietly slid the panel back into place and locked it. “Let’s eat lunch together.”
What?
He must’ve noticed the look on my face because he smiled. “It’ll only take thirty minutes of your time. The Zen session will be over by then.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t believe the nerve of him, to literally fuck me in a room full of my closest colleagues and then have the audacity to suggest lunch.
“I’ll have our lunch brought in here.” He started drawing the blinds open. “What do you want to eat?”
I didn’t answer.
“Claire?” He turned around. “You know I’m not a huge fan of unanswered questions...”
“A grilled chicken salad, hold the sex please.”
He laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Does every room at Statham Industries have a secret hidden passage?” I asked.
“No, not all of them, just the executive ones. They’re more of a fire safety measure, but they clearly come in handy for other things...”
I rolled my eyes and sat at the table.
“Angela? Could you have someone bring me two grilled chicken salads and two sweet teas to the executive en-suite on level twenty-four? You’re the best. Thanks.” He sat across from me. “The door to your left leads out into the hallway by the way.”
“Duly noted...”
“Are you upset with me?”
“I don’t know what I am. I’m not sure how I should feel after being fucked in front of all my coworkers.”
“Elated, maybe?”
“There are a lot of words that come to mind. That definitely isn’t one of them.”
“Well, next time just turn around. I’m sure no one saw anything. Most of them were falling asleep...Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead...”
“Do you ever do the dating thing or do you just stand people up whenever they ask you out?”
“I don’t do the dating thing.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged. “I don’t want to be disappointed again, if you know what I mean...” I started thinking about Ryan and immediately steered the conversation away. “Do you do the dating thing?”
“I’ve been trying to...The woman I’m currently after is the most difficult woman I’ve ever pursued.”
“She’s probably out of your league. Why don’t you just date a supermodel?”
“Not interested. I’ve done that before.”
Oh...“Well, why not an actress?”
There was a
knock at the door.
“I did that before too...There’s not much substance in any of those women honestly, but I can’t really blame them. They become just like everyone else in the industry.” He opened the door and retrieved our lunch. As he carried the boxes back over to the table, he looked at me. “I know this is random, but I’ve been meaning to ask you this: Do you have a fascination with white and red flags?”
“What?”
“Your necklaces and the charm bracelets you wear. All of them have white and red triangle flags.”
“Oh...No, I wouldn’t call it a fascination. I just like flags.”
“Interesting...”
He passed me my salad and tea, and the two of us ate in complete silence.
Every now and then, I would look up at him and he would smile. Despite the fact that I was upset with him for what he’d pulled minutes ago, I couldn’t help but smile back.
It was strange for me to actually enjoy being around someone in silence, but he and I slipped into silence all the time. With anyone else it usually felt boring or awkward, but with him it always felt natural.
“Thank you for lunch.” I stood up once I was done. “It was very sweet of you, but we’re not doing it again.”
“Why not?”
“Because whatever this is between you and I is strictly physical. I get mine and you get yours. That’s it.”
“Okay, Claire.” He smirked.
“I mean it.” I put on my best non-negotiable face. “This is strictly about sex.”
“I’m not doubting you, but if you keep standing there and looking at me like that, you may not make it back downstairs.”
I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room.
Monday was the best and worst day of the week: “Best” because it meant that after a weekend without any sex, it was finally going to start up again. “Worst” because Mr. Barnes insisted on scheduling the bulk of our meetings and presentations on that day.
However, this particular Monday was worse than usual because I didn’t get one second to relax over the weekend.
I spent my entire Saturday standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, shooting three different versions of the sPhone blue commercial: We did take after take after take, and once it was finally perfected, the director realized he’d been shooting with the wrong camera, so we had to do it all over again.
