It's a Work Thing

by Michelle Karise

  She swallowed, her throat bobbing. Her eyes scanned my face. "Next time? You presume there will be a next time?" Her chestnut-colored eyes sparkled with challenge. She uncrossed her arms and splayed her hands on the door. "Just a hint, I don't find the implication that you'll disappoint me again the least bit attractive."

  My lips burned to touch hers, but I wouldn't allow it. I was there for a reason and wouldn't leave until I knew she was mine.

  "I'd hoped that I would spend my last year at Dynex preparing for the IPO. I would finish on a high note, then put it all behind me and start fresh. Then I met you and life as I knew it would never be the same. You are so strong and wise. I was afraid of fucking it up, so I kept that part of me locked up and hidden. I should never have let you leave. I should have barricaded the door and made you listen."

  "That's kidnapping." The faintest of smiles appeared on her mouth. Then she did it, she licked her lips.

  I leaned forward and kissed her, taking care to keep the kiss soft. It was an apology kiss, a I’m-so-sorry gesture. At least that was my intent. But when our lips met, my baser instincts took hold, it’s power overrode everything. I pushed my hands against the door until they were firmly lodged, as I got caught up in the taste of her. Jasmine’s mouth opened wider and our tongues met. I pulled back when her hand palmed my arm. The move startled her, confusion painting her lovely face. I couldn't give in yet; I needed to know what she was thinking.

  "Why don't I get started on dinner?" she asked. She ducked under my arms and walked along the hallway. I followed behind her, taking tentative steps into the open floor plan.

  "I'm preparing strip steak and vegetables."

  I sat at the island as she pulled out a stainless-steel bowl with a whisk. She crushed garlic, balsamic, and rosemary with olive oil and spread it over the well-marbled, salted steaks. Then she trimmed and washed asparagus and grape tomatoes before laying them on a sheet pan.

  "There's a bottle in the fridge. Your choice. Everything you need should be in the cabinets next it." She nodded to the stainless-steel SubZero refrigerator.

  I selected a bottle of red, and opening the cabinets, I grabbed two wine glasses before pouring for both of us. I slid one to her and took my seat.

  Taking a sip of the wine I started, "Jazzy—"

  "Why don't we talk after dinner?" She turned back to the stove, pan-searing the steaks. Once browned, she placed the cast-iron skillet alongside the sheet pan with tomatoes and asparagus in the oven.

  I couldn't be patient and sit there watching her cook. I needed to thaw the ice.

  "Lilah said that you are investigating the hacks."

  "Yes, I am. Not for you. I want to vindicate myself."

  I couldn't ignore the quiver in her voice and the need to pull her into my arms. I pushed back my chair, walked around the island, and encircled her in my arms. At first, her body stiffened, but she soon relaxed, allowing me to hold her. I cursed when the oven timer blared. She moved out of my arms and rushed to pull the steak and vegetables from the oven.

  "Jas—"

  "Let's eat before it gets cold." She sliced the steak, placing the pieces on the plates.

  We dined in virtual silence until I spoke. "Jasmine, this steak is delicious. It's the right temperature."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you like it." She took a bite of her steak, chewed it, then swallowed. "How are you here on a Monday? I thought this was your first day back."

  "I did. I went in this morning. The atmosphere felt different. I couldn't do it. During lunch, I hopped on a plane and came to you. I'll take the nine o'clock flight back to Chicago and resign in the morning. I'll give the required three-month notice but negotiate to one month. I can't leave Hunter and my team in a lurch."

  "So, what about the public offering? You're not fully vested."

  "I'm okay with leaving early. It's time for new challenges."

  "Wow. I can't believe you're planning to resign."

  I couldn't believe it either. Quitting without a job wasn't the best option, but it was my quickest path to freedom.

  After dinner, she collected the dinner plates, walked over to the dishwasher, and stacked the dishes. Jasmine was right, she was an excellent cook. I enjoyed the meal, but the question remained. Could she forgive me and agree to start over?

  "I'm sorry." I pushed the chair from the island and stepped until I stood in front of her. "I wish I could go back in time and make different decisions. I should have stood up to Nic and showed her that my dignity has no price."

  "No. You've apologized enough." Her voice was firm but barely a whisper. "I'm sorry for not listening to your side. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. If I could do it over, I would have stayed there and made you explain it to me until I understood. Let's talk in the living room."

  I sat on the couch, and she sat at the opposite end.

  "Garrett, I hate to admit it, but I've enjoyed working on the investigation. It's given me a renewed purpose. I enrolled in a two-month cybersecurity program. It's something I've always wanted to do. I'll start my job search after the holidays."

  "That's awesome. I'm proud of you." I inched closer, took her hand in mine. She smiled brightly.

  "I know why you're here. I can't promise that I'll have the answer today or tomorrow. I'll need a little time to figure things out."

  Disappointment clouded my thoughts. I'd come to win her back, and I hadn't accomplished that. Even though we weren't back to the way things were, we were in a better place than when I'd arrived. I needed one more thing before I left. My hand left hers and traced the line from her wrist to her cheek. I leaned in and kissed her softly. My kisses were as gentle as a light spring rain and went on for minutes as I savored her.

  Her lips opened, and her tongue met mine. She drifted away before her chestnut eyes fluttered open. I slowly pulled away from the kiss.

  "Jasmine, thank you for not throwing me out. I best make my way to the airport." I got out my phone to request an Uber.

  "I'll take you. There's always a traffic jam on I-85."

  Jasmine drove us to the airport in silence. She pulled in front of the terminal and put the car in park. I brought her hand to my lips and memorized her scent because I wasn't sure if it would be the last time I saw her.

  "You're the best thing that's happened to me." I threaded a curly tendril around my finger.

  A rap at the window startled us. An annoyed airport security guard peered into the window.

  "I'd better go. Be safe." I clutched the door handle and popped open the door.

  "Hey Garrett," Jasmine called over, "what happened with our vacation?"

  Garrett

  One month later . . .

  It had been four weeks and a day since I turned in my notice to Dynex. I was fortunate that I could strike out on my own while living off my savings and investments. I had confidence that Hunter and I had the smarts and savvy to be successful in business.

  As expected, Jeff accepted my offer to stick around for a month instead of the customary three. I spent the next month handing over my responsibilities to my successor. There was a lot of work and long hours. The best part was I'd successfully avoided both Nic and Jeff for the remainder of my time.

  My last day at Dynex had been far more emotional than I'd ever imagined. It was then that I realized that my peers and staff were family. The hardest part had been to say goodbye to Hunter, even though we both knew our time away was temporary. He would continue to work at Dynex while I developed the business plan and shopped for our consulting firm's investors. Once we received our first contract, he would quit Dynex.

  My last time walking through the revolving doors, I turned to take one last look at the place where I’d cut my teeth. I'd been through a lot—corporate games, harassment, and treachery—but now that I was on the other side, I knew the importance of being a fair and compassionate leader.

  The previous four weeks weren't just about closing doors; I'd opened one too. Jasmine and I had spent the ent
ire time apart, and we'd agreed to reestablish our connection. Every morning, we'd talked using FaceTime. We texted throughout the day. Each night, we'd talk until the stroke of midnight.

  We settled on a location and planned our vacation. We picked excursions and discussed what we wanted to do during our week's stay. Our excitement grew with each passing day. She modeled bikinis and dresses while I scoured the internet for the short swim trunks she requested.

  The virtual dates had been my favorite. We'd decide on a television show or movie, and I'd listened to her complain about how rigged reality television dating shows were. Most of all, we'd talked about our dreams and goals. She'd shared her career aspirations, and I'd revealed the business plan for Hamilton and Reeves.

  The night before my flight to Atlanta, we were double-checking our packing lists. I'd learned that Jasmine was an organized and efficient packer, whereas I was all over the place. Over the video chat, I showed how I threw my clothes in the bag. She howled with laughter.

  "Oh my god! I'll repack when you arrive. You're hilarious. I love you." She laughed, then her facial expression faded from joy to worry. She turned away from the camera, and I knew that she hadn't intended the three little words to slip out. I regretted not saying it weeks ago when she ran out of my condo. So, I shared my truth.

  "I love you too."

  She faced the camera. We didn't say a word as we sat in that moment, letting the enormity of our confessions swirl around us. It felt natural and right. I wanted to ride the crest for the rest of my life.

  Now, was the first evening in the Riviera Maya with my favorite girl. We'd returned to our villa after a romantic dinner on the beach. The night air had been balmy with a slight touch of humidity. Jasmine had suggested that we sip our post-dinner cocktails on the balcony, and we'd stood there quietly and listened to the waves crash against the shoreline. The big and glowing moon cast a glow over the Gulf, our private pool, and our skin.

  Moonlight landed across Jasmine's beautiful face, illuminating the flirtatious gleam in her eyes. Like a heat-seeking missile, I moved closer to her.

  "Garrett, do you know what would make the evening perfect? If you fucked me. Right here."

  My dirty girl.

  I set my drink down and stepped even closer. My breath sped up at her proximity. I leaned in and dropped a ghost of a kiss on her mouth as I placed her drink next to mine. Without warning, I spun her around, pressing a hand to her chest, holding her to me before seeking out her tit. I pulled at the pebbled nipple. She moaned and pushed her ass back to rub against my hardening cock.

  "If you want to do this, you've got to be quiet. You can't scream or yell. You can't call on Jesus when I make you come. Do you promise? I don't want our neighbors to know my name. Do you hear me?" I whispered in her ear, thrusting my dick against her ass for emphasis.

  She sighed and nodded; her lips parted in ecstasy. She moved her hand up my leg until it met my hip, clutching me tightly. She gripped me in place as I rocked against her. The blood from my head and my feet flowed to the center of my body. The moon and the sea disappeared as black spots filled my view.

  Jasmine let out a loud moan when I placed her hands on the balcony railing. I pulled the material of her diaphanous dress over her calves, past her shapely thighs, until I revealed her perfect brown ass. The fabric curtained over her back, exposing the tiniest sliver of lace that she liked to call "panties." Panties were bigger and utilitarian. Panties held things in. The handmade strings served no purpose other than to entice me to plunge into her like a fucking caveman.

  My hand moved the lace aside and sought out her pussy. I lazily stroked at the soft and wet flesh and closed my eyes to imagine how good she would feel impaled on me. She opened her legs wider, allowing more access to her pussy.

  "Six weeks is too fucking long. At this rate, I'll never let you go," I uttered, almost to myself.

  "Garrett, fuck me."

  "Remember, you can't disturb our neighbors or anyone who walks past. Everyone will know," I whispered into her neck.

  "You talk as if I'm the loud one." She turned to look back at me. The excitement, desire, and lust all danced in her eyes.

  In response, I slapped her ass. She shivered at the unexpected sensation.

  The sound of my zipper was louder than the ocean. Jasmine trembled in anticipation as I pulled out my cock. Settling between her legs, I was rock-hard thinking about sinking into her warm, tight channel. I pulled aside the strip of lace and lined my crown with her entrance. I pushed into her slowly and smoothly, stretching her apart until every inch was buried. Her pussy felt like heaven. I held still and watched as she struggled to take shallow breaths, all while trying to pivot against me. I felt every quake and quiver from deep inside of her. When I couldn't take another second, I moved my hand to her shoulder and pulled my hips back, delivering a thrust.

  She removed a hand from the railing and reached back until she found mine. Our fingers interlaced as I ruthlessly plowed into her. She pressed her lips into the opposite forearm to muffle her screams and moans.

  It wasn't about sex and climaxing. It was about the connection with someone that meant so much to me. Six weeks had been difficult, but we made it through. Together.

  There, under the moonlight, we made delicious love.

  Jasmine

  Fourteen months later . . .

  I was the Chief Security Officer at Compertum Business Solutions. Compertum was the name of Garrett and Hunter's consulting company. If Lilah hadn't moved between them, the two would have come to blows about whose name would go first. After weeks of going back and forth, Lilah and I stepped in and gave them a few suggestions. They agreed that the Latin word for proven best represented the brand.

  Besides serving on the leadership team, I was a limited partner. I took the savings I'd put aside for the ER Wallace partner capital contribution and used it to invest in my man's business.

  Early on, Hunter and Garrett agreed to base the company out of Atlanta. With over thirteen thousand technology companies in the area, it made sense to start here.

  The best part of this position was the lack of travel. We'd target small to medium-sized organizations in the Atlanta area.

  Ten months ago, Garrett had packed up his life and moved to The Dirty South. Having a man full-time in my space was an adjustment, but I overlooked all the minor frustrations and concentrated on life with him.

  Tonight was a big night. We would have a launch party for our family and close friends. They'd get to tour the office space, and Garrett or Hunter would announce their first contract. A one year, three-million-dollar project to modernize a school district's network and hardware.

  I'd finished wrapping my hair in spiral rollers and walked to the closet to figure out the best outfit for the evening's festivities. Garrett had tuned the television to one of the financial channels. My ears perked up at the mention of a familiar name. I ran out of the closet and stared at the screen.

  "Honey! Come quick!" I called out to Garrett. I picked up the remote and angled it at the television, raising the volume.

  He ran into the bedroom. He'd been in the loft riding the Peloton bike he gave me for Christmas.

  "Are you okay?" Sweat clung to his muscle tank as his chest rapidly rose and fell.

  "Look!" I pointed to the television.

  With his eyes plastered on the screen, he pulled his phone from the dresser and dialed up, who I could only assume, was Hunter. "Quick! Turn on CNBC. Call me back."

  A red banner with "Breaking News" in white letters occupied the lower half of the screen. Video footage of Nic and Jeff Cagle being walked from the Dynex headquarters filled the top portion. The two held their heads down and avoided cameras and reporters' questions. Behind them, trailed three men carrying file boxes, each wearing matching navy jackets and white shirts.

  "Oh shit. The FBI and the IRS. What the fuck?" Garrett called out.

  The banner changed to "Scandal Rocks Dynex International."

&
nbsp; The television anchor answered our question. "In what is being called the New Year's Eve Massacre, Nicolette 'Nic' Sewell, the CEO of Dynex International, was fired. The Feds have accused her of corporate hacking, insider trading, and sexual harassment. The company has been best described as the wild, wild west. Our sources have told us that Nicolette and Jeff used threats to intimidate and humiliate their employees, all while using the company's coffers as their personal piggy banks."

  We both sat on the edge of the mattress and stared, wide-eyed at the screen.

  "We've learned that a corporate whistleblower shared hundreds of files with fed—"

  It's hard to believe that it had been over a year. Well, I now had an answer to Garrett's question about karma. She was a way too patient bitch.

  Everything faded into the background until Garrett was all that remained. I didn't care about the current events. I only cared about the man that slept next to me every night for the past year.

  "Seems like I got out of there in the nick of time." He said, smirking when I laughed.

  "Tony Jones, one of the board members, is now the interim Chief Executive Officer. Typically, the CFO would step into that role, but Jeffrey Cagle is under federal investigation along with Nicolette. Wall Street has had a quick, positive response to this news. The Dynex futures are forecasted to trade higher." The announcer's voice broke us from our glazed stares.

  Dynex went up for IPO on the last day of March. The stock never made it above eighty-nine dollars a share. Following the advice of his financial advisor, Garrett held onto the stock for future or emergency needs. Rather than use it for his stake in Compertum, he used the proceeds from the sale of his Chicago condo.

  He took the remote from my hand and turned off the television. I understood why he did. We already knew the story. Lilah found evidence that the hacking and invoices were all a part of a grander scheme to embezzle funds from Dynex. Nic had gotten entangled in options trading and had hedged large amounts against a falling stock market. When the market hadn’t performed as she’d hoped and she had taken loans against her Dynex stock, she’d turned to theft. Nic spent corporate money to purchase jet hours, furniture, and artwork and sold the items at a premium on the dark web. She’d continued to bet against the stock market and continued to lose until she was one million dollars in the hole.