Secret Keeper

by Harlan, Christopher

  Now this is starting to sound more like an interrogation than a discussion, but it’s not the kind of scenario I can just up and walk out on while giving him the finger. I have no choice but to play along.

  “Nowhere in particular, just a few blocks near where we were, so I could finally ask her some questions to gauge where she was with you.” And by that, Chandler, I mean that I walked her to her hotel, fucked her mercilessly all night and again this morning, and now I can’t wait to leave so I can do it again.

  “And what did she say about me?”

  I lean in to give my lie a little more authenticity. “I’m not going to lie to you, Chandler. If you just want some yes man who’s going to kiss ass and tell you what you want to hear, I’m not your man. I tell the truth, painful or not.”

  “And what’s the truth in this case?”

  “She’s hurt, Chandler. Really, really hurt. She wants to call things off.”

  “And she just told you this? A man she’d known for a few hours.”

  “People in pain will often turn to whoever happens to be there at the moment they need.” At the moment she needed my cock inside of her. “She was like a faucet. I just had to turn the dial once and all of her emotion came flooding out.”

  “That’s the perfect word for Penelope—emotional. And what kind of emotion did she let out?”

  “Oh, come on Chandler, you know what kind.”

  “Excuse me?

  “Look, I’m not getting in your business, your business kind of ended up on my lap.” Business. Fiancé. Same thing. “And trust me I’m not judging, but how do you think she felt after finding out about Teresa? She’s angry, sad, broken up. She wants to move on.”

  Chandler doesn’t respond right away. He looks away like he’s thinking deeply about what he just heard, and then finally he breaks the silence. What he says sends an arrow right through my heart. “I understand, of course. But that’s just not a possibility. She’ll come to realize that soon, after I speak with her myself. What happened after your walk?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him. “I put her in an Uber and went to visit my family in Queens.”

  “Queens?” he asks, grinning again. “Penelope is a Queens girl, isn’t that funny?”

  “Huh?” I say, faking surprise. “Small world. But can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “If you were just going to speak with her yourself, then why did you need me to do all of this and report back to you? You knew how she’d feel.”

  “Of course I did,” he says, looking at me intensely again. “The Tomas task was real, as is the Teresa one you’re going to do for me tomorrow.” I guess I know what’s on the agenda for tomorrow. “But this one wasn’t an information gathering mission like the others.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “A test. The only real test.”

  “I’m sorry but I’m confused.”

  “I knew you were smart, and capable of doing the tasks I’d given you. Of that I had no doubt.”

  “Then what?”

  “Your trustworthiness. No offense, but there are a lot of smart, sharp, competent people I could hire to be my assistant. But precious few of those are men who I can trust. And no matter what you hear—or even think—about me, I operate on trust.”

  “I’m still not following you.”

  “A perfect ten who’s vulnerable, looking for a shoulder to lean on, and not in the right state of mind. Oh, and add that she’s only a few blocks away from her hotel where she’s staying all alone, away from her fiancé’s eyes. You know what kind of test I mean, Dylan, don’t play stupid. You had her in your crosshairs. I put her there for you. I just needed to see if you were going to take your shot, or if you had larger ambitions than just a night’s pleasure with a beautiful woman.”

  I think my heart just stopped. What happened last night just went from an impulsive night into something else.

  “Of course. I’d never jeopardize an opportunity like this for a woman.”

  “Good. Because that would be a deal breaker, in more ways than one.”

  I’m not sure, but I have a strong sense that he just threatened me. “Understood.”

  “I’ll deal with Penelope tomorrow. While I am, you’ll be heading out to Long Island to speak with Teresa. You’ll be texted an address and instructions. I want to be briefed tomorrow night. You can come here again, I’ll be home.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you then.”

  I stand up to leave. As I walk to the door, two things happen at the same time—Chandler calls me one more time, and my phone vibrates against my leg. I turn around to the sound of his voice. “And Dylan,” he says. “Good job passing my test.”

  “Anytime.” I look down and see a text from my still forbidden fruit. It’s an image. I don’t know why I click on it right then and there, but I do, and when I do I see Penelope, naked, lying on the bed where I fucked her into oblivion, smiling into her phone with a text that reads “One more time. I’m still wet.”

  Fuck me. I know what I’m about to do, and I don’t give a damn what the consequences are.

  A Catholic like me needs a confession at a time like this. I know how the dialogue is going to play out already. I can practically hear it. . .

  Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been too long since my last confession.

  I’ve slept with my boss’ woman, and God help me I’m about to go do it again!

  16

  Dylan

  Penelope: Last night, not to mention both times this morning, was incredible.

  Me: That’s not even the word for it. There is no word for it, not yet. They haven’t come up with one.

  Penelope: You’re incredible, do you know that? My body hasn’t felt like that. . . maybe ever.

  Me: I’m thinking about you right now, you know.

  Penelope: I was thinking about you, too. I’m still in bed. I’m still naked. I won’t even tell you where my other hand is.

  Me: No, you’re going to need to tell me. But I’m not in bed and I’m not naked so can’t get too turned on.

  Penelope: What are you doing?

  Me: I’m helping Ms. Ross with her groceries. I’m helping her put them away.

  Penelope: Sexy.

  Me: Shut up.

  Penelope: No. Seriously. It’s sexy that you help people.

  Me: I used to help old ladies in the neighborhood carry their groceries home when I was a kid. But Ms. Ross is hardly a helpless old lady. She was a ruthless businesswoman in her time.

  Penelope: And now she needs help with her groceries. It’s still sexy that you’re helping her out.

  Me: Well thank you.

  Penelope: You know what else is sexy?

  Me: What’s that?

  Penelope: The fact that my finger is deep inside of me right now, and I’m imagining that it’s you.

  Me: That is sexy. If you keep writing things like that Ms. Ross is going to file a sexual harassment lawsuit against me.

  Penelope: And why’s that?

  Me: Because it’s a bad look to be unpacking an old lady’s groceries with a giant erection while standing in her very expensive kitchen.

  Penelope: I guess you’ll have to manage to not get a huge erection then. Do your best while you’re imagining how wet I am right now, and how warm it would feel if your cock was where my finger is.

  Me: Can I see you tomorrow?

  Penelope: I think you need to. But not around here.

  Me: No. Not around here.

  Penelope: Then where?

  Me: Don’t worry. I know a place.

  17

  Penelope

  The next day

  It’s time to face the music. Chandler texted me that he wants to see me, and I already know what’s coming.

  I’ve barely thought about him since my night with Dylan, and I’m more shocked about that than anything. There was a time—which seems like so long ago—that Chandler was a different man. He was my world,
the guy I was head over heels in love with, and I honestly never imagined my life without him.

  Now, he’s like a limb that needed to be amputated because if I didn’t, the infection would have spread everywhere. I feel the slightest bit of guilt even having thoughts like that about the man I almost married, but then I remind myself that there’s some woman probably on her way to see her OB right now to find out the sex of the baby he put inside her.

  Yeah, no more guilt after that image.

  It’s more surreal than anything, but if I’m looking back on the situation honestly, Chandler started to change once he took over his family’s media empire. He was groomed to be ruthless, to do whatever he needed to do to ascend to the top of the business world—and I’m a fool for thinking that those qualities wouldn’t bleed into his life with me. There was a time when Chandler was a great, almost normal guy—normal minus the untold wealth his family already had before he took over the business. But he changed the longer we dated. He got cold, distant, and less attentive to me once he had me.

  That sounds like such a girlfriend cliché, doesn’t it? But for me it wasn’t just fewer flowers and less date nights—with Chandler, distant meant physically as well as emotionally. He was always traveling, or spending late nights at the office, or out taking clients to this bar or that restaurant. Our relationship became an afterthought, and once I caught a hint of his cheating, I knew in my heart of hearts that things weren’t the same between us. I’m just mad I didn’t break up with him sooner—that I was too weak to just walk away from a guy who wasn’t good for me.

  Better late than never, right? We’ll see.

  I’m going back to the apartment we shared—the one we sat in together talking about the family we’d start one day—the same one I stormed out of after throwing the ring he gave me at him with the force of a major league pitcher.

  I walk through the lobby that already seems foreign to me. I know that sounds stupid, but sometimes we go through experiences that change how we perceive the things around us—sights, smells, and even memories end up getting colored by a negative experience. I barely look around as the elevator takes me up to the fourth floor.

  I’m not the nervous type, but I get a rush of anxiety as I turn the key to our apartment. When the door swings open I see Chandler standing there, a complete lack of expression on his face.

  “Hello,” he greats me.

  “Hey.” I stand there frozen—a deer in headlights—not knowing what to say or do. This is so awkward and being here is freaking me out a little. Thinking about how this was going to go in the comfort of my hotel room is one thing, but standing here, face to face, everything is different.

  “You can come in, you know.” He fake smiles at me. I know that face well. “I won’t bite.”

  “No, you’ll just fuck other women and lie to me about it. I think I’d prefer a bite.”

  I don’t know what came over me, but that just came spilling out of my mouth. I guess we’re going there right away.

  “Still mad, I see.”

  The audacity of his words is getting me even more heated than I already was. “Still mad? That’s what you have to say? Not ‘I’m sorry’, or at least a fake attempt at getting me back?”

  “Getting you back? Penelope, I never lost you. You just needed some time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re still engaged. Nothing’s changed.”

  I’m in the fucking twilight zone right now, and the scariest part about it is how serious he is. “No, Chandler, everything has changed. Or do you not remember my engagement ring flying across the room?”

  “I understand that you were angry. I made a mistake and I’m willing to make up for it. But this can’t change things between us. I get that you needed some time away, but now it’s time to come back home and get back to normal.”

  Normal. It’s an interesting word to use right now, because where I stand, we left normal behind a long time ago. “Chandler, listen. . .”

  “No, you listen!” I jump back when his whole tone changes. I’ve never heard him yell like this. “I’ve had enough of your childish drama. Yes, I made a mistake. All men do at some point, stop being so naive. Marriage is about more than monogamy, it’s about joining together, about making something that didn’t exist before, and I can’t have a messy break up lingering over my head during this stressful time of the merger. It’s time to come back home.”

  I stare for a few seconds—I don’t know how else to react. I’m processing his words, but really, I’m just shocked by them. As I stand here I’m looking into a stranger’s eyes. I’m standing in a stranger’s apartment. I’m speaking to a man I’ve never met before.

  “Okay. Obviously, you’re not listening. I’m out of here.”

  I turn to leave. There’s nothing else to do here. I don’t care about my clothes, or my stuff, or any material thing. I can replace those. I need to get out of here right now.

  “That’s a shame. Jessica will be very disappointed to hear this.”

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn around. Before my eyes even meet his, I already know where he’s going, and I’m fuming with anger. “What did you say?”

  “Jessica,” he repeats. “If you and I are done, that means that Jessica and I are done as well, right? It only stands to reason. The two arrangements go together.”

  As I stand there, shaking in anger, I don’t know which is worse—him calling our engagement an arrangement, or him hitting as far below the belt as he can.

  18

  Dylan

  I should feel so guilty about having sex with Penelope—twice! Well, technically, three times, but who’s counting. The first night after our date she took me by surprise, so I can rationalize to myself that it wasn’t as bad. And the following morning, in the shower was just a continuation of our amazing night. But the third time was as intentional as it gets. I came from her ex fiancé’s apartment and went right to the hotel bed where she was waiting for me.

  As I’m driving out to Long Island to meet this woman Teresa, all I can think about is that encounter. When I got to the hotel, the door was already ajar. My head was spinning from having come from that meeting with Chandler, but once that door swung open he was the absolute last thing on my mind.

  I lied when I said she was waiting on the bed—she got there eventually, but when I first walked in I didn’t see anyone. She was hiding behind the door, and as soon as I was inside of the room she pushed it shut, standing there wrapped in the bedsheets and nothing else.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, coyly. The look in her eyes was pure sex—she looked at me like she wanted to eat me, like I was the only thing in the world that she needed. I didn’t even answer before she stepped into me and dropped the sheets. They fell softly to the ground, and, after they caressed her body on their way down, I got the full view. Her beautiful tits were staring right at me, her nipples begging to be in my mouth. And that’s exactly what happened.

  I leaned down and wrapped my lips around her hard nipple, sucking firmly and making her moan. I felt her nails scratch against my back, and, as I caressed her breast, my cock got so hard that it hurt. When I stood back up to full height, I grabbed her by the waist and started kissing her. All I could feel was the hardness of my cock, begging to be let inside of her warm pussy.

  I couldn’t wait. This wasn’t the time for foreplay—she was begging me to get fucked in every way that I was capable of fucking her. I lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around me as I carried her over to the bed. As soon as my legs hit the edge of the mattress, I pulled her off of me and she fell gently onto the bed. I fell to my knees on the floor, my chest resting against the edge of the mattress, and I pulled her ass towards me.

  She was lying spread eagle, and my tongue didn’t need but a second to find her warm, already wet pussy. First, I licked around the outside of her swollen lips, dancing my tongue around in circles, and then I started to make my way up, slowly, until I put pressure on her c
lit. I moved my tongue up and down, over and over, followed by slow, passionate circles. The moaning sounds she made turned me on more than I ever have been, and as soon as she was nice and wet I rose to my feet, ready to do what we both really wanted to do.

  Fucking her is a different thing. I’ve been with my share of women—nothing reaching fuckboy levels, but enough to have some experience, and Penelope is easily the hottest woman I’ve ever been with. Not just hot—there are plenty of hot women in the world—she can do shit that’s way beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

  But every time we’re together, the whole experience is shrouded in this complicated situation I find myself in. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not above any of this—it’s not some ill-conceived guilt I’m feeling like I’m the other dude in some kind of love triangle. It’s not like that. Chandler is a fuck, personally and professionally, and his engagement with Penelope is over, so it’s not an infidelity situation. What’s making me feel guilty is the fact that she doesn’t know anything about my sort-of-employment with her ex, and how she was part of my job interview.

  I left all that out and I feel worse about it the more we’re together, and I know that I’m going to have to tell her soon before it becomes an even bigger thing than it is. But all that has to wait. I have the strangest of my three tasks left, and this is the one I’m the most uneasy with. Talking to the reporter was weird but kind of fun. Taking Penelope out was supposed to be part of the assignment, but I just took her out because I liked her. But this last part—going to see and talk to the other woman—this one is weird as fuck.

  One of Chandler’s people messaged me the address of some diner in Long Island where this Teresa chick is apparently a waitress. My first thought—shitty as it is—is how and why Chandler even met someone like her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not the type of guy to look down on anyone’s profession. But Chandler is that type of guy, and the idea of him just hooking up with, but also impregnating, some waitress is kind of weird to me. I guess I’ll get the story at some point.