Dirty Fake Fiancé

by Sky Corgan

  In the morning, Mandy asked where I had got the new outfit from, knowing I had no money of my own. When I told her that Jack had bought it for me, she gave me accusing eyes.

  “I didn't sleep with him,” I insisted, but I knew she didn't believe me.

  If I had more time, I would have told Mandy about how Jack had said he was interested in meeting her, but I was already running late, and I still had to call a taxi to take me to work since I had left my car there. It was a mad dash to get to my desk on time, and then I was being sent back downstairs again for Jack's coffee. This was my least favorite part of the job, but I'd do it with a smile because of everything Jack had done for me, including paying for the taxi to bring me back to work.

  The week trudged on, and I was finally beginning to settle into my job. While the blondes still hadn't accepted me, they seemed to be getting used to my presence. Ulga complimented my outfit, asking where I had bought it from. I gave her the name of the store, but made sure to exclude that Jack had paid for it.

  The month flew by, and I was thankfully able to fork over for my half of the rent, as promised, though it consumed nearly my entire paycheck. It was depressing to have money one minute and then have it gone the next, but there was nothing I could do about it. I owned Mandy so much more than that. Working and being poor was something I'd have to get used to for a while.

  Time passed, and it seemed like things were finally going to work out for me. Despite Mandy's warning, Jack never approached me for sex. I could only assume he was respecting my lesbian proclamation. The other girls could have been named Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on though. It seemed like he went out with a different one every night of the week. While I rarely saw them leave the office together, I always heard the stories the next morning. From what I gathered, Jack Kemble was good in bed, and kinky to boot. Some of the things the girls talked about made me face flush with embarrassment. Tales of Jack's dungeon circulated around to the point I could picture the layout perfectly in my mind. One thing I noticed though was that sex never took place outside of the dungeon. Lovemaking did not seem to be in Jack Kemble's vocabulary.

  For all the talk, none of it really mattered to me. I had no interest in seeing Jack's dungeon of pain and pleasure. Having sex with my boss would only complicate things, making it awkward to the point I'd want to quit. It wasn't worth losing my job over. Besides, I wasn't interested in being a notch of Jack's endlessly long bedpost. Despite initially regretting telling him I was a lesbian, I now realized it had probably been the right thing to do. There was no pressure for sex, and the pursuit of me was over. Aside from asking me to perform various job duties, Jack pretty much left me alone.

  After my first month at Syngex, I began attending business conventions with Jack. He usually just brought me to take notes, though sometimes I'd also help prepare him for speeches, listening to him recite them in the limo on the way to the venue. When we were together in public, I felt important, though my presence was rarely acknowledged. I was the shadow in his background scene, seeing and reporting on what he couldn't—a second set of eyes and ears.

  Eventually, Jack began taking me on business trips as well. The first few times flying were a nightmare. I had always hated planes—had an irrational fear of them. The turbulence during take off rattled my nerves, but Jack sat beside me, placing a hand on my arm and telling me everything would be alright. He could be such a good guy at times, so kind and gentle.

  It seemed Jack divided his time between business and charity, and he took a very hands-on approach to both. A tornado had ripped through Oklahoma, uprooting hundreds of homes and devastating the land. Syngex was one of the first companies on the scene to provide assistance. He even flew in a handful of employees, rolling his sleeves up and getting right in there with the rest to clear the neighborhoods of debris and help the residents piece their shattered lives back together.

  At the end of the day, we were all exhausted. Jack treated us to an afternoon at the hotel spa, a reward for the good deed we had done, though nothing was more satisfying than the feeling from the act itself. When Jack and I returned to our joint room for the evening, I found he had rented a suite with a hot tub. I felt apprehensive about getting into it with him, but eventually I caved.

  “Damn, I'm beat,” he commented as he settled into the water, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

  I kept a shower robe on while I poured us each a glass of champagne, trying to avoid letting Jack see me in a bikini, though I was a bit curious about how he'd react. While I had gotten to the point where I trusted him, there was still a large part of me that knew he was a man. When we were alone like this, sharing a two-bedroom suite, was when I felt the most vulnerable.

  From what I had heard from the girls in the office, Jack was very sexually aggressive. I didn't want to give him any ideas that he could be that way with me, so I took care in making sure I was fully dressed until right before bed, and I locked my door at night, in case he got any sexual inclinations. On the rare nights when we stayed at suites that didn't have separate bedrooms, I made sure to wear the most unflattering set of pajamas I could find.

  This was the first time I'd ever be nearly fully exposed to Jack. In truth, if I wanted to be even more cautious, I could have bought a one-piece with a cover shirt and some swim trunks, but I was tired of hiding. Besides, he seemed harmless enough on all of our other trips.

  After setting Jack's champagne flute in the cup holder beside him and pouring myself a glass, I shrugged off my robe and slipped into the water, watching his eyes all the while. Jack kept them closed, which afforded me the opportunity to ogle him. So this is what Jack Kemble looks like shirtless, I thought, trailing my eyes across his defined shoulder blades and then down his tight chest into the bubbling water. I was sure whatever was below the water was just as perfect as what was above, though I couldn't see very well thanks to the jets being on.

  It wasn't until I settled that Jack opened his eyes, looking over at me through the steam. “This is nice.”

  “Mhm,” I replied absentmindedly, taking a swig of champagne. It was a bit too sweet for my liking, but the coolness of it felt good on my tongue, despite the tingling bubbles.

  “Doing stuff like this makes me feel good.”

  I wasn't sure if he meant helping people or being in the hot tub, but I answered anyway, “Me too.”

  As Jack sat up to reach over for his champagne flute, his eyes landed on my cleavage. “Nice swimsuit,” he commented.

  “Thanks.” I didn't know what else to say.

  “How are you at giving back massages?”

  “You had one already.” I smirked.

  “I know, but I want another one.”

  “Spoiled,” I huffed at him, setting down my champagne to move to his side of the hot tub. We had some issues with Jack repositioning himself between my legs, and I giggled as he landed on my lap. “You want me to hold you like a baby now too?”

  “No. The jets make it hard to move,” Jack laughed.

  “Then maybe we should turn them off.”

  “As you wish.” He leaned over to push in the button that controlled the jets, allowing the water to go still. Afterward, he settled more easily between my legs.

  My hands reached up for Jack's shoulders, pressing my fingers into hard muscle. “I'm not very good at this,” I confessed, trying to kneed out the knots as best I could.

  “I'm sure you'll do fine. None of your girlfriends ever wanted massages?”

  “They wanted them, but after the first one, they never asked again. Like I said, I suck at it.”

  “It feels good to me.” His flesh was taut beneath my fingers, making my effort feel even less effective. It apparently didn't feel that good, because after a few minutes, Jack said, “Here, let me show you how.”

  We switched positions, though I was a bit reluctant about it. As soon as his fingertips pressed into my shoulder, all apprehension faded away. Jack was every bit as good at giving massages as t
he girl in the spa had been, and I found myself almost moaning from his touch.

  “Feels good?” he asked.

  “Yes, don't stop.”

  A short laugh escaped Jack's lips as his hands skillfully moved to work on my neck before dipping down to massage my back. I was half asleep when he spoke again. “Have you ever thought of going blonde?”

  My body stiffened at the question. “No. Have you?”

  “I don't think I'd look good blonde.”

  “I don't think I'd look good blonde either.”

  “Well, I think you would.”

  I gave him a sardonic glance over my shoulder. “Are you asking me to dye my hair?”

  “It's just a suggestion. I prefer blondes.”

  “I noticed. You seem to forget I don't care what you prefer though.”

  “Ouch. You're so mean,” Jack feigned offense, and then countered my rudeness by tickling my ribs.

  I flailed, sinking into the water in my attempt to get away. My foot slipped, and my head went under. When I emerged completely soaked, he was laughing at me, which only worked to piss me off. “That's not funny, asshole,” I turned and blurted, forgetting my manners.

  “Oh, it isn't, is it?” he asked, completely ignoring my bad mood. Jack lunged at me again, easily gripping me around the waist and tickling me relentlessly.

  “Stop,” I cried out between giggles before my knee accidentally slid up between his legs.

  He fell back on his side of the hot tub, hissing in pain. For a moment, I thought to be concerned . . . or embarrassed. I couldn't tell which one.

  “I'm so sorry.” I screwed my face, not knowing what else to say or do.

  Jack held out his hand, signaling he needed a minute to recompose himself. It took a few seconds for Jack to catch his breath and settle in his seat. He exhaled deeply before reaching back to chug the rest of his champagne. Without a second's hesitation, I climbed out of the hot tub to refill Jack's glass.

  “That was a bit unexpected,” he said finally.

  “It was totally unintentional, though you did deserve it for tickling me.”

  “No man deserves that,” he insisted, making me feel ever worse. As if Jack sensed it, he said, “I know it was just an accident.”

  “Good. I wouldn't want you to think I have a secret vendetta against your balls.” Why did I say that? My mouth was being completely stupid tonight.

  “I certainly hope you don't.” He grinned.

  I decided to take Jack's amusement and run with it. “Well, actually, I have a secret vendetta against all balls, but that's beside the point.” After topping off my glass, I slipped back into the water, no longer caring if he was staring at me or not. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes after what I had done, even if it was an accident.

  “And why is that? I've been meaning to ask you what made you a lesbian. I mean, were you born that way. I know a lot of gay people. It's always interesting to hear their stories.”

  “I'm guessing that means you're not homophobic.”

  “Not hardly.”

  “Well, I suppose if you were, you would have fired me by now.”

  “Not true. Syngex holds a no discrimination policy. In truth, I really don't care what our employees do behind closed doors as long as it doesn't affect their job performance. Work and home should be two completely separate things.”

  “I'm inclined to agree.”

  “Now that you've bruised my manhood, entertain me with a story while I recover. Where did this vendetta against balls come from?”

  My cheeks flushed, still embarrassed. Now I had to come up with a lie, and quick. “I figured it out in my early twenties.”

  “How did that come about?”

  “I've never had luck with men. I mean, they've always wanted me. I've never had a hard time getting a date. They just wanted me for the wrong reasons. None of them ever saw past the outside to who I really was. None of them ever cared to see. I just decided I didn't want my relationships to be like that anymore.” Wow, Jen, that was an absolutely horrible story. Couldn't you have done better?

  “Women can be vain too, you know?”

  “I know. But women know what women want. Most women get into relationships based on personality. That's why you see so many ugly men with hot girlfriends. It's rare that it's the other way around.”

  “Men are visual creatures,” Jack admitted.

  “They shouldn't be. What happens when the looks fade?”

  “They get married,” he joked.

  “I'm serious. Relationships based on physical attraction are all good until you get older. Then what are you left with? Oh wait, don't say anything. You're one of those guys who are just going to keep trading her in for a new model every few years.”

  “Well that was rather rude.” He furrowed his brow.

  “You're the one so obsessed with looks. What else am I supposed to assume?” I asked defensively.

  “You make me sound like some womanizing monster.”

  “Isn't that what a playboy is?” I was crossing so many lines, but I didn't know how to stop myself. Shut up, Jen. Just shut up.

  “Is that what you really think of me?”

  “What does it matter? You're my boss, nothing more. Your life is your own. How you live outside of the office is none of my concern. Work is work, remember. And home is home.” Except for the lines between your work life and home life blur with you banging every girl in the office.

  “Maybe you're right to be a lesbian.” Jack took a long sip of champagne. The mood soured.

  “Let's move on from this. We've both had a long day, and I don't want it to end on a bad note. Love is a sore subject for you. Attraction is a sore subject for me. Maybe we should make a list of things we should avoid talking about.”

  “Maybe.” He didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation.

  After a few tense moments, Jack got out of the hot tub and went to towel off. I lingered for a while longer, reflecting on the things said. He was obviously upset with me. Maybe I had struck yet another chord, or perhaps he actually cared what I thought about him. I couldn't really tell.

  The following day, everything seemed back to normal. Jack was his usual chipper self, though I still felt a bit awkward around him due to the conversation of the previous night. It looked like hot tubs would have to go on my list of things to avoid in regard to Jack. I certainly didn't want to take the chance of reliving a similar situation.

  It wasn't until we returned to Syngex that I noticed things were a bit different. In the coming week, chatter in the office took a turn. Instead of boasting about their sexual escapades with Jack, the girls wondered why he hadn't been taking them out on dates. I couldn't help but assume maybe something I had said had sunk in, though it was very doubtful. Jack was set in his ways. It wasn't likely a conversation with a self-proclaimed lesbian was going to change that.

  At the end of the week, Jack invited me out to dinner. I was surprised when there seemed to be no business related reason to our getting together. After our last uncomfortable conversation, I had thought he wouldn't want to be alone with me. In all honesty, I didn't want to be alone with him. Using my better judgment, I decided to blow Jack off, telling him that I had plans with Mandy. If there was no reason for us to be together outside of work, then we shouldn't be together. It just wouldn't look right, and there was no real point in it.

  The following Friday, he asked me out again, and again I declined. In truth, my Friday nights were typically spent at home, renting a movie and eating ice cream in my pajamas. Sometimes, when Mandy didn't have to work, we'd watch movies together. And on lonely nights, I'd go out with Eric for a drink. He was happy to have my company, and it was nice to be around another male besides my boss.

  Jack was persistent though. The third Friday in a row that I rejected his offer for dinner, he finally asked, “What about Saturday?”

  “My weekends are usually busy,” I lied.

  “Too busy to pencil me in any
where.” He gave me a weak smile. “I'll take whatever time you can spare.”

  “Are you alright?” I was suddenly concerned. What was with this glum look?

  “Fine. I just feel like you're avoiding me.”

  “Why would I avoid you? You're my boss.”

  “Maybe that's why you're avoiding me.”

  “I'm not avoiding you. I'm just busy.”

  We left it at that and I went home, trying to figure out why Jack wanted to hang out with me so badly. It seemed odd. Maybe he needed to get something off his chest. There were psychologists for that though. Jack most certainly did not need me.

  I rented a romantic comedy and settled down onto the sofa, curling up around a half-pint of mint chocolate chip. Mandy was working late, and I didn't feel like drinking. Besides, it had been a while since I watched anything romance related. Romantic movies always left me teary eyed and feeling lonely, something I wasn't very fond of. Still, it was nice to remind myself occasionally that romance existed, whether it be serious or silly—that there was someone out there for everyone.

  I was just now getting stable enough to consider dating again, though I wasn't thinking about it very much. Things were as perfect as they could be, and I wasn't sure adding a distraction such as a boyfriend was a good idea. With all the time that I spent alone with Jack on the job, it might cause drama with a relationship. That was something I didn't want or need. When things got weird, I tended to get irrational and make bad decisions. There was no way I was going to quit my cushy job over some man's jealousy. No, definitely not worth it. A relationship could wait a while longer.

  The doorbell rang, and I groaned in annoyance as I set down my ice cream and went to answer the door. Who could be coming over at this hour? Mandy hadn't told me she would be expecting anyone, and I certainly wasn't.

  Cautiously, I looked out the peephole. The person I saw on the other side of the door made my breath freeze in my lungs. Jack Kemble was on my doorstep. Why?