by Kayt Miller
Oh, hey, there. Great job! Congratulations, David.” Her voice isn’t the usual one I hear. It’s a little shaky if I had to use one word to describe it.
“Thanks. Uh, listen…”
I’m interrupted by Lester’s assistant when she says, “Dave, he wants to see you now.”
“Okay.” I turn to Cassie, “We’ll talk later. Okay?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Flynn.”
Mr. Flynn? What the fuck? She has never called me Mr. Flynn. I take the elevator up to the executive floor. I walk through the long corridors until I reach Lester’s office. I tap on his door and wait for him to approve my entry.
“Come in,” he says distractedly.
I push the door open and walk into the inner-sanctum of IIM.
“Have a seat, David,” Lester says pointing to the chair in front of his desk.
I sit down and cross one foot over my knee then reverse it. I’m nervous and not sure where to place my hands. I decide to rest them on the arms of the chair then think again about moving them to my lap. I finally decide to have both feet on the ground with my hands on my lap as I look up at my boss.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
He calls me son whenever I do something good, like make him a truckload of money.
“I love the way you hunt for the newest trends, David. The quantity and quality of background research you do before you make a move is commendable. I’d like to see my other Directors do the same rather than just using their gut instincts. That’s not the way we make money in this day and age, is it son?”
“No, sir.” I’d love to accept the praise for the background research, but that credit rests soundly with Cassie, but I don’t tell Lester that. This is about me.
“It’s time I move you up, David. How does Vice President sound to you?”
“It sounds fu… uh, amazing.”
Lester chuckles at my almost slip of the tongue. “It is fucking amazing,” he chuckles. “I’ve got the office right next to me open and ready for you to move in as early as tomorrow. Do you have time to get your office boxed up today for the move?”
I look at my watch. It’s one thirty, “I think I can get that done.” Even if I have to stay late, I’ll get it done.
“Great. I’ll have maintenance bring your things up tonight. You can get settled in tomorrow. Give HR a call and let them know. They’ll update you on the salary and perks,” he winks. He turns to his computer and picks up his phone.
I guess this meeting’s over. I stand up and exit his office. I make it into the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut, I raise my fist and yell, “Fuck yeah!”
Chapter 4: Cassandra
After spending a little extra time in my favorite stall in the women’s bathroom, the one I hide in when things get stressful or a little overwhelming, I exit said stall and stare in the mirror. I can see that I’m still a little pink from earlier. The whole thing in the conference room left a bad taste in my mouth, but I understand why he did it. He was put on the spot in front of a room full of people, and he just said what he had to say.
Besides, it was the truth. Except it was me in that doctor’s office, and it was me who read the article, and it was me who did all of the research before I presented it to David. It doesn’t matter. The fact is David took the risk to invest in Alt Frau, so it’s his win. I won’t fault him because I know, in my heart, David’s a good man, and he’s always got my back.
I wash my hands and pat cool water on my face to hopefully, diminish the blotchiness. The last thing I want is for David to see me like this. I need to get my crap together and get back to work. We’ve still got a lot to do today.
I make my way back to my desk and notice that David’s still gone. I sort through the items on my desk and place them into order of priority so we can get done before five, quitting time. I sit in my seat and check out David’s appointments for the rest of the day and see there are none. “Good. We can get all of these little things ticked off my list and go home.” I whisper to myself.
“Talking to yourself again?” says my friend and co-worker Mallory. She’s an admin assistant for another Director and has been here at IIM for almost five years.
“Yes. I can’t help it,” I say with a giggle.
“Here, I brought you some cake,” she says handing me a plate with a huge hunk of white cake with white frosting. “I saw you leave without any and I know how much you love cake,” she winks.
“Thank you, yeah, that room was packed. I didn’t feel like fighting the crowd to get to it,” I say with a light laugh.
“Uh, huh. It couldn’t be because your boss is a tool, would it?”
Mallory knows our system. I’ve talked to her about my knack for finding great investment opportunities and that I pass those along to David. What can I say? We’re a team. “He’s not a tool, Mal. He was put on the spot, that’ s all.”
She shakes her long auburn locks and snorts, “You’ve got on your rose colored glasses again, honey. He’s only looking out for number one.”
No, he’s not. “We’re a team.”
“Oh, yeah? And, there’s no ‘I’ in team, right?” she smirks.
“Right.” I know Mallory means well, but she just doesn’t have the same dynamic with her boss, Andy. She’s strictly an administrative assistant. I’m more.
As I turn to check David’s email, I hear him before I see him. I peer up from my desk and see he’s smiling from ear to ear. “My office, Cassie,” he says using his head to point the way to his office.
I wave as Mallory walks back to her office. I step into his and shut the door. Moving toward his desk, I sit in one of the two chairs placed in front and cross my legs. I’m ready.
“It’s happening,” he says excitedly, “I’ve been promoted to V.P.”
“Oh, my gosh, Congratulations, David!” I practically shriek. I clap my hands together like an idiot, but I’m so damned happy for him––for us. This is great news for my career here as well.
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Cassie. You know that, right?”
Uh, yeah. “Yes,” I say confidently.
“We need to go out and celebrate tonight.”
“We do!” I say smiling. We’ve never gone out to celebrate after work. I’ve attended business dinners before strictly in the capacity of his assistant. But this is different, we’ve never been promoted to Vice President before either.
“We’ll go after we get packed up. They’re moving our stuff upstairs for us tonight. Is there anything super pressing on my schedule this afternoon or can we pack?”
“No. Nothing that can’t be addressed tomorrow,” I practically squeak. Wow, we’re moving upstairs? Tonight? “This is so exciting.”
“It is! Okay, can you call the mailroom and ask them to bring up some boxes? Then, we can get packin’,” he says with a chuckle.
I call down, and in less than thirty minutes, we’ve got a pile of boxes ready to fill. The other assistants and a few of the brokers are watching us intently. I’m sure they know what we’re doing, but only one or two are brave enough to wander over to ask us about our project. I defer to David who just says he’s moving his office to another part of the building. That’s probably the best thing to say until Lester officially announces it.
By five thirty, we’re all packed up. David leaves a few notes for maintenance about breakable items, but once that’s finished, we walk to the elevator together. Once inside, he asks, “Where should we go? You hungry or should we just find a place with drinks and appetizers.”
“Drinks and appetizers.”
“Great. Let’s got to Emmit’s.”
“Perfect.” Emmit’s Irish Pub is an institution. Plus, it’s within walking distance to the office and near the bus stop. I’ll need that when we leave.
We walk in silence until David says, “Sorry about today.”
I don’t need to ask what he’s referring to, I just reply, “That’s okay.” And it is.
Emmit’s is
packed for a Thursday night. It must be due to the live band. Somehow, we find a little table in the back corner. When the server makes her way to us, we order drinks, a whiskey for David and a glass of Harp for me. We also order chicken wings and nachos while she’s there. When Emmit’s is this busy, she may not make it our way very often.
“Are you nervous?” I ask David. “V.P. That’s a huge deal.”
He gives me a warm smile, “I know. I’m a little nervous but nothing I can’t handle.”
David’s a confident guy even when I don’t think he feels it inside. I give another word of encouragement, “You’ll do a great job, David.”
Our conversation is cut short by the delivery of our drinks. “Food will be out soon,” mutters our server.
“Cheers,” David says raising his glass. “Here’s to women with wrinkles. Thank God for them,” he chuckles.
“Cheers,” I say as we tap our glasses together.
In no time, the food arrives, and David digs in like he hasn’t eaten in days. I suspect he didn’t get lunch today. “You’re hungry,” I say with a giggle.
“Starving,” he says with his mouth full.
I giggle again and take a chicken wing and set it on my plate. I also take one or two nacho chips and set those down as well. I don’t care to eat in front of people, especially David. It’s obvious I’m a large woman, he can tell I overeat, but it’s just the thought of him seeing me actually eat that I try to avoid. I nibble on my treats but drink fast. David seems to be keeping up, drinking at my pace.
We order a second, a third, and even a fourth round of drinks when I realize I’m getting pretty tipsy. Okay, tipsy isn’t the right word. I’m getting drunk. I probably should have actually eaten some of the nachos to absorb the alcohol, but I’ve just gone over my reasons for abstaining. For every beer I drink, he’s got a fresh whiskey. I’m surprised he’s not face down right now. He must be used to the strong stuff.
“Wow, the band is pretty good, izzn’t it?” he asks slurring his words a tiny bit.
Honestly, I hadn’t been paying much attention because my focus has been on the man next to me. That and I’ve been a tad annoyed having watched four, count ‘em four, women brazenly walk over to our table, sit down onto one of our two empty seats, and hit on my dinner date, er, companion, I mean my boss. Who does that? Yeah, I’m fat, but it doesn’t mean I’m not on a date with this man. Women suck.
Luckily, he’s shot each of them down, which surprises me. Three of the women were attractive, and one of them was downright gorgeous. The old David would have grabbed that one by the hand and whisked her out of the bar waving to me as he went. This new, divorced, David is way more cautious.
I’m pulled out of my own head when he says, “Let’s dance.”
“Uh, what?” I squeak.
“You heard me,” he says grabbing my hand. “Let’s dance. I like this song.”
It’s a ballad. What is he thinking? He pulls me by the hand and drags me to the dance floor. Several other couples are swaying to the sounds so at least we aren’t the only ones. He slides his palm from the side of my waist to the center of my back just above my bottom. He takes my hand in his other one placing it on his chest. Using the one hand on my back, he pulls me closer to him. My head sits right below his chin. Even in heels, he stands a head taller than me.
I feel his hips move to the right and I nearly combust. He’s using his body and hands to lead me, and I follow. I take in his scent and let my eyes flutter closed. He smells so good. I’m not sure if it’s cologne, body wash, or just him. It’s citrusy and musky at the same time. I’d love to run my nose up the column of his neck to get a better smell. Heck, I’d love to lick his neck, but I resist. “You can actually dance,” I say with a little too much surprise in my voice.
“My mom made us all take ballroom dance lessons.”
“She did?” Wow, that’s unusual but very nice. His mom is a sassy woman in a tiny package. I’ve met her a few times when she’s come in to meet David for lunch. I liked her from the start.
“Yeah. She thought every one of us should know how to actually dance,” he chuckles. Then I feel a vibration in his chest when I realize he’s humming along to the music and he’s carrying a tune. The man can sing too? We move around the small dance floor with ease. I’m lulled into the dance by his movements. That is until I feel his palm move lower. His huge hand is now cupping my ass. I let out a little moan––one I didn’t see coming.
He keeps his palm in that spot as he leans down like he’s going to whisper in my ear only he doesn't. He breathes in and then kisses me right below my ear. Holy Hannah Montana that felt good. I moan again and feel something hard pressing against my stomach.
“Jesus, Cassie. You smell so fucking good,” he says with a husky voice.
I pull my head back to look into his eyes and see they’re mostly black. Dilated to the point the blue is nearly gone. “You smell good too.” What am I saying? I’m drunk. He’s drunk. This is all just a drunken, flirty, mistake. Well, I hope it’s not a mistake.
Before I can say more, he leans down and kisses me but not on the lips. He kisses me above my mouth to the left. His tongue swipes the same spot, and I must look confused because he says, “That fucking beauty mark makes me crazy.”
“My mole?” Ugh, I hate that thing. It’s definitely not beautiful. I’ve been called so many names thanks to that anomaly; like witchy-poo, moly-wartress, worry wart, and my personal favorite: toady.
“It’s a beauty mark. Marilyn Monroe had one in that exact spot,” he whispers as he kisses it again. I know I should step away. He’s my boss. I’m his assistant. This is a bad idea. This can never work. But, I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t bear the thought of stopping him.
As I work through all of my issues, I feel his lips on mine. His lips are soft, and the kiss is sweet. He uses that wicked tongue of his to swipe across my bottom lip then he moves to biting and tugging on that same lip. I move my hands up until they slide into his wavy locks. I stand up on tiptoes and open my mouth to his. I swipe my own tongue into his mouth and listen as he moans this time.
Both of his palms grasp my ass pulling me closer to him. When someone yells, “Get a room,” he chuckles against my lips. That is until someone else adds, “Fat ass.” I blanch at those words and pull out of his arms. I rush back to our table and grab my purse.
“Cass? Wait up.” David says moving up to me. “Where’re you going?”
“Home. Thanks for the beer and, uh, everything.”
“Come on, don’t go,” he whines. He actually whines.
“I, uh, it’s late.” I really don’t know what to say.
“Let me walk you out.” He tosses down several twenties onto the table and places his palm on my back. He guides me out the door and turns me right toward our office building.
“The bus stop is that way,” I say pointing left.
“Yeah, and my car is this way,” he says guiding me right.
When we walk past the end of the building, he pulls me into a small alleyway between Emmit’s and the restaurant next door. “What…?” I start to say but before I can finish my thought, he’s got my back against the brick side of Emmit’s, and his mouth is on mine again. Jesus, he can kiss.
He pulls his mouth away from my lips but doesn’t stop. He kisses my mole again and proceeds to move down to my neck kissing one side then the other all the while murmuring things like “What are you doing to me, honey?”
His whispered words are hot on my face and neck, but a chill runs through me. My nipples peak and I know he can feel them since I’m pressed tightly between the brick of a man and the actual brick wall. I start to raise my arms to wrap around his neck, but he stops them. He brings both of my arms above my head and holds them in place with is one large one. I moan so loud it echoes in the narrow alleyway. “David,” I whisper his name.
“I’ve got you, baby.” His free hand slides down and brushes it over my breast. “Jesus, you’
re so soft, Cassie.”
My nipple is hard as stone, so when he passes over, he brings his thumb and forefinger to the peak and pinches. “Oh, God,” I moan again.
“You like that? You like my hands on you, Cassie?”
“Uh, huh.” I can’t seem to muster any more words.
The hand on my breast moves down to my knee and then up under my skirt. Today I wore a dress with a flowing A-line skirt. He moves it up slowly, and I feel it as he slides it inward, closer to my panties. “Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”
“Uh, huh.” I nod. See? That’s my only words right now. I feel his finger run back and forth over my mound and then it slips into my panties right on the edge. It dips inside, and when he moans, I feel myself I get even wetter.
“Jesus, you’re drenched.” His breathing picks up and so does the urgency in his hand. He lets go of one of my hands above my head but brings the other down to the front of his pants. He lays my palm flat over him, and it’s my turn to gasp. He’s hard, so hard. He uses his hand to show me what he wants sliding first up then back down over his fly. I feel just how big he is and it’s not a disappointment. He’s big and long and rigid, and I did that to him. Me! Fat Cassandra Darrow has just turned on the sexiest man on the planet.
My internal monologue is interrupted when he grunts, “Keep doing that. Squeeze it,” I use my thumb and fingers to grip him through his dress pants and slide it up and down. “Faster,” he groans. I move faster even though my mind is on my own release. He’s using his fingers on my clit now sliding it around moving faster and faster. Our panting breaths have picked up, and it’s loud enough that anyone passing by on the street will hear us but I don't give a flying fig. I’m about to come at the hands of a man for the first time well, ever. It’s always just been my hand and me.
I feel his body stiffen and a moan so loud I’m sure people heard. “God damn, that was hot as fuck, Cass.” He pulls his hand out of my panties, and I whimper. I didn’t come, but I was so close. So, so close. He wipes his hand on his pants and adjusts my skirt. He leans in and kisses my mole then my forehead. “I’m not sure we should have done that, but I couldn’t help myself. We’re celebrating.”
