The Girlfriend (The Boss)

by Abigail Barnette

  “What... how?” I wiped my cheeks and looked over to Deja, who beamed.

  “I’m just here for a couple days, and then I have to go back to New York and the boss from hell,” she said, rolling her eyes, and I realized that with Neil gone, Deja would be serving as assistant to Rudy.

  “Ooh, that’s bad luck,” I said under my breath.

  “I can hear you,” Rudy called, before going back to his conversation with Neil.

  “But I’m here for as long as you need me,” Holli said proudly. “My best friend is going through some shit, and I am not going to let her go through it alone.”

  “Oh my gosh, thank you, but you don’t have to uproot your life.” I pointed across the room, to where Emma stood beside Michael, watching us with a proud grin. She and her father had conspired on this, I just knew it. “I’m not totally alone, I have Emma. If you have, like, important, work-related—”

  “Shut up!” Holli shrieked, and gave me a push to my shoulder. “You are my best friend, and I’m going to be here for you. Besides, I’m your blonde friend. There can be only one.”

  I laughed and hugged her again.

  The night was a total success. Neil kept me stuck to his side like glue, for the most part, introducing me to all of his friends and colleagues I hadn’t met yet. It felt a little bit like he was showing me off, but he was so damned happy that I could give him a one-time pass. Everyone remarked on how good he looked, for a guy fresh off chemo, and how great his attitude was. Every time such a comment came his way, he would give me a quick, appreciative glance.

  I slipped away for a moment to refresh my drink, and Valerie sought me out. I could have sworn I felt a chill in the air before I turned and saw her standing there, waiting to talk to me.

  “Sophie,” she began, clinking the underside of her ring against the glass in her hand.

  “Do you need something, Valerie? Another drink?” I gestured to her half-full glass. “What are you having?”

  “No, I’m fine. And it’s just Diet Coke tonight.” She looked down, then up again, tossing her beautiful auburn hair over one shoulder. “I’m sorry. For the way I acted the last time we spoke. I know that what Neil does with his estate is none of my concern. And that he’s smart enough not to fall in love with someone who’s only after his money.”

  Crap. If she was going to be nice to me, I had to be nice back. I wanted to stay mad and jealous. “Apology accepted.”

  She went on. “I must admit, after what happened at Porteras, I didn’t like you. I’d decided I never would. But Emma has been very... insistent that I have the wrong idea about you. And if you were able to turn around her opinion of you, after how the two of you met...”

  “Oh god, does everyone know that story? Did she send out a mass email?”

  Valerie tilted her head. “A Facebook status. But I am sorry. I shouldn’t have been so...”

  “Weirdly possessive of my boyfriend?” I supplied. It still bothered me, and I was going to call it like it was.

  Her shoulders stiffened, but she nodded with a slight smile and took a sip of her pop. “Well, as long as we understand each other.

  “I do think you’re good for him,” she admitted after a long swallow from her glass. “And he looks at you—”

  A huge lump rose in my throat. If she said he looked at me the way he used to look at her, I would vomit. Not out of spite, but because I felt physically ill during the breath she took between that part of her sentence and the next: “as if you are the only thing in this world that matters.”

  And the way she said it, the subtle, wistful bending of her words told me volumes more than what she had spoken. It told me that Neil didn’t look at many people that way. And that he hadn’t looked at her that way.

  “Well.” She shrugged and said pleasantly, “Enjoy your night.”

  I sought out Holli and Deja again. They were talking to Emma and Michael, and the four of them seemed to be getting along pretty well. When I stepped up, Emma turned to me and said, “Everything okay?”

  So, she must have known her mother was going to approach me. I gave her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

  I was probably never going to like Valerie, but at least I felt like there was some kind of closure there. I appreciated that she hadn’t tried to blame me or excuse her behavior. Maybe I could stop clenching my teeth whenever she was around now.

  “So, can you sneak off and show us the house?” Holli asked, her eyes darting upward. “This is kind of a swanky place.”

  “Go on, Sophie, it’s your house,” Emma said, making a little shooing motion with her hands.

  I took them up to the fourth floor in the elevator, because Holli had ridiculously high heels on. The instant the doors closed, Holli blurted, “Okay, show me his kinky sex room!”

  “There’s no kinky sex room,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

  “Or do you mean every room is a kinky sex room?” Holli wiggled her eyebrows.

  Deja shook her head and sighed heavily. “Baby. The man is going through chemotherapy.”

  “Billionaires have kinky sex rooms,” Holli insisted. “I read about it in a book.”

  “We’ve been getting plenty kinky,” I confessed. I’d had a few drinks to loosen my nerves at meeting people and having to be in the same room with Valerie. Holli knew exactly where to hit me for details.

  Not that we didn’t routinely spill the details to each other, anyway. We’d had a total kiss-and-tell policy with each other ever since our second week in the dorms at NYU.

  “I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone, because I wanted to see your face. We. Had. A three way.”

  “Oh my god.” Holli’s eyes went wide.

  Deja’s jaw dropped. “I have to work for this man’s company, you know.”

  Holli ignored her. “Was it girl-girl-guy? Or guy-guy-girl?”

  “He watched me have sex with another man. Or well, that was the second time. The first time was at a private BDSM club in Paris. We met this guy and Neil watched him finger me. Then we hooked up later, here, and Neil watched while we...” My face grew hot as I realized how deeply personal these things were. Then naughty laughter burst from my lungs, and we practically rolled out onto the fourth floor.

  “Okay,” I said, wiping my eyes. “From the top down, here we go.”

  * * * *

  We were having such a good time, I didn’t realize the hour. When the clock in the foyer chimed eleven-thirty, I had to check the clock face to be sure what time it really was.

  “Is it that late already?” I asked Emma. Neil was across the room, lounging on the sofa, laughing at something the man next to him was saying. I didn’t want to break up Neil’s good time, but we had to go to the hospital super early in the morning.

  He looked up and caught my gaze, and I gave him an apologetic shrug as I pointed to my wrist. I wasn’t wearing a watch, but he got the hint. Almost everyone had cleared out already, as it was a weeknight. He excused himself to the few people who remained, accepted their good wishes, hugs, and firm handshakes, and called it a night.

  “I’ll take care of shooing everyone out,” Emma told him, standing on her tip toes to hug him. “Just go get your rest.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early at the hospital. With donuts, if they have them over here.” Holli promised.

  I made a face. “That’s really not necessary. We have to be there early, and there’s not much you can do.”

  “This is what I’m here for. To lend you support, even if it does mean just sitting in a waiting room in case you need me.” She gripped me by the shoulders. “This is my sole purpose for being here. Now, tell me what you need, and I will be there.”

  “Well, we check into the hospital at seven-thirty,” I said, issuing an unspoken challenge.

  “I will be there at ten,” she vowed in the same serious voice.

  I laughed and hugged her, and I hugged Deja, too. Even though I didn’t know her as wel
l, I felt like she was... family. Because she was in love with Holli, and she made Holli happy, I love her, too.

  As Neil and I rode the elevator up, I thought about Michael and Emma downstairs. I wished Neil could feel toward Michael the way I felt toward Deja; that he could love Michael just for making Emma happy. I wondered if Neil would understand if I explained it that way.

  Then he smiled down at me, looking happier than I had seen him since Paris, and I remembered what he’d said about my collar. He’d wanted to give me something no other man could give me. Whether he realized it or not, that was what drove him to dislike Emma’s fiancé. Emma didn’t need her father anymore, or at least, that’s the way he perceived the situation. It was driving him crazy.

  This was something Neil definitely needed to face. But not tonight.

  Not when it was our last chance to get some before the transplant shut us down for months.

  I wasn’t the only one thinking about the long dry spell we were facing again. Neil wrapped his arm around my waist as he stepped off the elevator, and steered me directly for the bedroom.

  “I know we have to be up early, and I need my rest,” he said, anticipating a scolding. “But this might be the last time I feel this good for a long while. And I intend to enjoy myself, if you’re amenable.”

  “What do you have in mind?” No matter what he said, I would be in. But I loved hearing him talk about what he wanted to do to me.

  His hand slipped down, over my butt, and his fingers dug in through my skirt. “I want to paddle your ass until you can’t sit down tomorrow. I want to make you come so hard, you can’t walk.”

  “I need to walk and sit down tomorrow,” I pointed out, giggling as I leaned against him. We tumbled through the door, his hands already pushing my skirt up. “And Emma and some of your friends are still down there.”

  “You’ll have to practice being very quiet,” he admonished me. “There is absolutely no way I’m going to face a hellish year of transplant, exhaustion, fatigue and recovery without a proper send off. Now go and get your collar.”

  My pulse thrummed between my legs as I headed to the dressing room. I had a wicked thought. “You stay right here. Wait for me.”

  I’d bought something to celebrate after he was finally cancer free... but I could always find something else for that. Tonight, I wanted to give him a memory that would sustain him through high-dose chemo and his transplant process, so I dug it out from the back of my underwear drawer.

  The bra, thong, and garter belt were mostly assembled from wide, stretchy straps of thick black elastic. The bra’s cups were padded, underwire, and tiny, exposing most of my breasts, but another thick band lay across my nipples. Wide swaths of black elastic pressed into my skin over my hips, breasts, and backside, more like a stretchy cage than lingerie.

  When I stepped out of the dressing room, collar in my hands— he hadn’t told me to put it on, but to bring it to him— Neil’s eyes widened, and he took an audible breath.

  Exactly the reaction I was looking for.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, sweater off, sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled back. God, I love his arms.

  I walked slowly toward him, executing a little twirl as I did. “What do you think?”

  I came to a stop in front of him, while he looked me over with undisguised appreciation. I got my answer when he roughly grabbed my hips, his palms slapping against my skin as his fingers dug into my flesh. I’d gained ten pounds since we’d come to London, but Neil didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I suspected he kind of liked it, judging from the way he leaned forward and sank his teeth into me where his hand had just been.

  The pinch of pain sent shocks of desire skating across my skin, like water on hot oil.

  “Where have you been hiding this?” he asked, looking up to take the collar from my hands. “On your knees.”

  I knelt obediently in front of him, my hands resting on my thighs. “I was saving it for a special occasion, Sir.”

  The backs of his fingers brushed my shoulders as he pushed my hair back to fasten the heavy collar around my neck. There was the weight of promise in the cold platinum band, and anticipation wound tight in the basest places in my body. As the clasp locked, he leaned down and whispered close to my ear, “I think tonight will be very special.”

  I shifted on my knees to press my thighs together.

  “Stay right there,” he said, standing.

  I waited for him, listening to the far off sound of rummaging in the closet. His footsteps crossed the carpet, and something covered my eyes from behind. I made a startled little “eep,” then giggled. “You scared me.”

  “You’re not afraid of me,” he admonished. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

  I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, my heart pounding hard in my chest. “Maybe you could make me afraid. Just for tonight.”

  The blindfold over my eyes made it impossible to tell how he reacted to the suggestion. As he tied the swath of black silk over my eyes, he said, “I... suppose I could. What would make you afraid?”

  Without my sight, falling rapidly into the space of mind I only inhabited when under his control, every word over my lips felt like a caress. “You could be rough? Rougher than usual. I know my words and my signal. You know I’ll use them if I have to. I want tonight to be the furthest we’ve ever gone. Let’s face it, this is going to have to last us a while. I need memories to jill off to.”

  He chuckled, but then he hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t, Sir,” I purred. “Besides, I can always ‘yellow’ and you’ll dial it back, right?”

  “Of course,” he agreed. Then he put his hand on the back of my head, a possessive touch. “Fine. If that’s what you want, get on the bed. Feel for it with your hands, so you don’t slip. The only marks I want on you tonight, I’ll put there myself.”

  I did as he ordered, asking, “How do you want me?”

  He answered from across the room. The French group Air began to play over the speakers in the ceiling. “I want you on the bed, and silent. I’ll put you in whichever position I want you in, when I’m damned good and ready.”

  The admonishment in his tone made my pussy clench.

  I waited, breathless, my heart fluttering like a fly against a windowpane, frantic and desperate. I still knelt, but on the bed now, wondering when he would touch me, wondering what torment he had planned for me.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I hadn’t heard him come back, and I startled. I’d just barely opened my mouth when something smooth and firm shoved between my teeth. A ball gag, I realized; I’d seen it hanging in the cupboard, a leather harness with a black silicone ball. Forced to breathe through my nose, I felt a stab of panic that twisted into a shock of pleasure in my groin.

  “Give me your hands.”

  I held them out, and he grasped my wrists and forced my arms behind my back. “The signal is the same, open and close your fingers three times.”

  I made an affirmative noise around the gag.

  “People will still be able to hear you, if you scream loudly. And I guarantee, you will scream.” He secured my arms with wide cuffs, leather from the stiffness of them. “So, do try and control yourself. The music will only cover so much.”

  I nodded and tried to articulate, “Yes, Sir,” around the gag.

  He gripped my ankles and jerked me toward the edge of the bed, and I fell forward with a startled cry. He pulled me to kneel on the floor, and forced my head against the mattress with his hand spayed roughly against my face. “Tonight, I’m going to use you as I see fit. You are nothing but a toy for me to play with. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  The cool tails of a leather flogger dragged across my back.

  I heard the crack before I felt the pain. There was no warm up, no gentle test to see if I could take it. The leather tails snapped against my backside, against and between the woven elastic design of the th
ong. It hurt where the flogger met fabric; it hurt more where it met my skin. My neck strained as I lifted my head, groaning against the gag.

  “Shh,” he scolded. “They’ll hear you.”

  Then snap, snap, snap, three stinging swipes that brought a ragged cry up my throat and tears to my eyes. I breathed hard through the pain, until it faded into the rosy glow of naughty pleasure I craved.

  But if this was how we were starting out...

  I had asked him to make me afraid.

  Not being able to see what he was doing made it so much worse. Not being able to see him was another kind of torture altogether. I had to imagine his almost cruel smile, his forearms beneath his rolled-back sleeves.

  The next strikes painted stripes of pain across the backs of my thighs, and I squeezed my eyes shut behind the blindfold. Hot tears sprang up, and I tried to blink them away, my lashes fluttering against the silk.

  The song playing had a high electronic guitar line and a deep, sinister distorted bass. It only added to the foreboding I felt at being told I was a toy, just there for him to use.

  He dragged the flogger between my legs, brushing my quivering center. Then he reached up and unsnapped something, and my hands were free, the cuffs broken apart but still encircling my wrists. “Turn over. Spread your legs.”

  Oh, yikes. I’d hated when he’d used the flogger on me this way, before. But he’d given me an order. I got to my feet, sniffling at the tight feeling of my burning skin. I climbed onto the bed and spread my legs, my feet resting on the floor.

  “No. Get them wide apart. I want those shoes in the air.”

  I took a long, deep breath through my nose and reached down to hold my legs behind my knees, drawing them up and apart for him.

  He stepped to the edge of the bed, the fabric of his trousers brushing against my bottom. Something shockingly cold touched my burning thigh, then I heard a snip, and another snip, and my nearly two-hundred dollar Agent Provacateur panties were just gone. I heard the whip of the flogger through the air, and my nails dug into my own skin as I braced myself. The blow didn’t land between my legs, as I thought it would, but on the duvet beside my head, and I yelped.