by Anne Connor
I say goodbye to the girl with the fake question and walk over to my intern.
“You came,” I say. She bites down on her lip and looks at me with a sidelong glance, her skin glowing in the soft sunlight.
“I came,” she replies.
I thought there was actually a pretty good chance she wouldn’t accept my gift, but here she is in the classy black bikini I picked out for her. Part of me thought she’d come over here and throw it in my face - just a small part of me thought that - but part of me knew that she’d put it on and come over, knowing that I’d pictured her in it.
And she looks fucking fantastic in it. From seeing her at my office, I knew she’d want something new to wear. She wore a perfectly sensible but much too old for her suit to the interview, something that a hot granny would wear. Seriously, even if she were forty years older with a minivan and an alert in her phone telling her when she had to pick up her grandson from soccer practice and drive over to the Denny’s for butterscotch sundaes, I’d have still wanted to have sex with her. But as a sumptuous twenty-something in college, she should be showing off her bangin’ body.
She likes the way I’m looking at her. Without thinking, I let my eyes trail along her curves, blind to every other girl at the party. It’s not just that I’m bored with them. Granted, I’ve seen them all before, but even if you put them all into a lineup and I saw them through the glass at the police station for the first time, I’d pick Sara out as my first choice.
Every single time.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my swim trunks, reminding me that I never responded to red panties’ text this morning. She told me she wouldn’t be able to make it to the pool party because she has to go to a piano recital for her niece and nephew, and wanted to come over later to have a private party to make up for missing the pool party. I shouldn’t leave her hanging, so I grab my phone and shoot back a text telling her not tonight.
I stride over to a table near the pool and grab my cordless microphone and a stack of index cards, questions I’ve collected from some my guests today.
“This is my favorite part of the party.” I hand Sara the mic and I divide the cards, feathering the two stacks with my thumbs. Sara holds the mic up to my mouth, gripping tight but keeping me at arm’s length. I glance over at her to give her an approving thumbs-up.
Sara’s still got a good grip on the mic, but lowers it a little, clearly wondering what the hell is taking me so long.
“Okay,” I say to the crowd, bending down to meet the mic. Sara brings it up and smiles, raising her eyebrows at me. “Sorry about that. Let’s all greet my new intern here. Her name is Sara, and she’s good with big things you put near your face.”
Sara’s mouth drops open, but her eyes sparkle. She shakes her head slightly and puts the mic closer to my face, as though she wants to smack me with it. The girls on the animal pool floats don’t seem to notice Sara standing next to me at all. I’m just glad she’s here. She didn’t have to come.
“Am I here just to hold this mic for you all day whether you say anything of value or not? Or is there some kind of greater purpose to me standing up here with you?” she says, bringing the mic down and covering it with her hand.
“If you’re going to be in this business, you have to be okay with stalling once in awhile.” I lean in closer to her, her hand still cupped over the mic.
“Why are you stalling?” she asks, squinting against the bright sun overhead. Beats of sweat are starting to form around her temples, making the hair around her face start to become wet. She should really hop into the pool to cool off.
“I’m stalling because I want more time up here with you. But you’re getting a little sweaty. You should probably take a dip to cool off.”
“You’re right,” she says. The sassy smile on her face nearly makes my heart melt. “You did say I wasn’t required to be here. Which means I’m not required to work either, so you can hold your own damn microphone.” She shoves the mic into my hands and takes a step forward, but before she can get away from me, I reach out with my free hand and grab her by the wrist. She turns around and lets me draw her in close, my arms wrapping around her waist, her hands pressed firmly to my chest. She looks up at me, her brown eyes swimming with lust, her mouth opened slightly, her fingers pressed up hard against my muscles. A warmth envelopes us, but she pulls away just as quickly.
She wriggles free, shaking her head, her long, her long brown hair brushing against her shoulders.
“Business,” she says, tilting her chin down and grabbing the mic from me. “I know this is a party, but you have a job to do. Boss.”
She’s absolutely fucking right, and I’ve already broken my look, don’t touch policy, but I redirect my attention to the index cards and start flipping through them trying to find something good.
“This is the part I think everyone likes,” I say into the mic. “This is the part where I take some questions. I have a few cards here with your questions on them. First up, and I’ll keep these anonymous, is a woman whose boyfriend wants her to use a strapon on him. She’s totally willing to do it, but she wonders if there’s a possibility he could be gay, based on this request.”
The girls in the pool look around, wondering who submitted the question.
“I don’t think he’s gay, no. If he wanted a dude to do this for him, then he might be bi. But if you want to do this, use all the normal tips I’d suggest for anyone trying anal for the first time. Go slow. Use lube. Easy-peasy.”
“So you weren’t lying about the kinds of questions you get” Sara says, bringing the microphone down and cupping a hand over it again. Her brows knit together in the middle, and she looks slightly mortified.
“All in a day’s work, baby.” She puts the mic back up to my mouth so I can continue. “Next up. My boyfriend can’t make me cum. What should I do?”
I tap my lip and look out toward the crowd, surveying their faces. The few guys who are here look around, each trying to act macho and tough, puffing their chests out and flexing their muscles as they hold their beer bottles. They all want it to be well known that they can get any girl off.
“This one’s easy. Use a vibrator instead.”
I grab the mic from Sara, checking her to make sure she isn’t too scandalized. I know I told her to be prepared for this kind of stuff, but this is easy and tame compared to some of the stuff that’s going to be thrown her way if she sticks with me long enough.
Taking the mic from Sara and putting it on the table, I grab my drink as one of the tech guys comes over to cut the mic off and start the music back up. I give him a clap on the back and we clank our beers together before I guide Sara over to the pool.
“Sit,” I say, hopping down to sit on the edge, letting my legs dangle into the water. She does the same, keeping a distance from me, and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“Cold?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer.
“No,” she says, pulling her hands away from her chest and adjusting her triangle bathing suit top. Her breasts are gorgeous and petite, perfect teardrop shapes hidden by the silky black fabric. She takes a pull from her beer and glances over at me.
“Thank you for the bathing suit,” she says. “I don’t think I thanked you yet.”
“It’s my pleasure, really.”
“I’m sure it is.” She sinks down, leaning back and putting a hand behind her to support her. For being such a serious, uptight young woman, she has an enviable amount of confidence once she comes out of her shell a little.
Her mouth is dirtier than mine, I’ll bet. Her lips pucker slightly as she takes a sip from her beer. Not much of a drinker, but I know she likes the fresh lime and the ice-cold bubbles in her glass. Not much of a talker, but I’ll bet I can have her speaking in tongues before the night is over, despite the fact that she wants to keep it professional.
Pleasure is my business, after all.
“There’s something else I never thanked you for.” Sara kicks her legs out in front of her, t
racing her toes along the surface of the water. “I never really thanked you for the opportunity to work with you.”
“You did,” I say, admiring her toned, smooth legs, imagining them moving under my sheets the next morning. “You thanked me when you hired me.”
“No,” she clarifies. “Not really. I never thanked you for taking a chance on me. I have next to zero qualifications, hell, I thought I was interviewing for something else entirely.”
“Don’t be so modest,” I say, scooting closer and bumping her shoulder with mine. “My interns don’t have a great reputation on the whole. Trust me, you are miles above them when it comes to work ethic. I saw how you dove into that assignment Kayla gave you. Ninety percent chance that any other intern I hired would have been texting under the table instead of working.”
“Texting under the table?” she says, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “From what Kayla told me, your interns are so shitty that I’d think they’d text with their phone actually on the table. They wouldn’t even try to hide it.”
“You’re actually right,” I concede. “So if you know how bad my interns are, you know it wasn’t a big stretch for me to hire you. As someone who actually wants to learn something, you’re doing me a bigger favor by working here than I am by giving you the gig.”
“Ah, but you like those girls. That’s the part you’re leaving out. You like the girls who aren’t afraid to text out in the open. In fact, nine out of ten of them are probably texting you, right?”
I sigh. She isn’t wrong.
“Maybe that’s not what I really want anymore.”
I slide down into the pool and put my beer bottle down next to where Sara’s sitting at the edge. Her toes dance in the water, and she looks down at me seductively. Shit, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me.
“I told you I want to keep it professional, boss,” she says, leaning forward, putting her hands on the edge of the pool and tucking her legs in. “So just take my thank you for what it is. Genuine gratitude for letting me work here.”
“Fine,” I reply. The curve of thighs tempts me, and all this bullshit about keeping things professional is making me crazy. I dip my hand into the water quickly to adjust myself as Sara looks off into the distance. I walk over to her, my body wading slowly through the water. “On a professional level, I have something I’m going to announce at the party on Thursday night.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” A bartender comes by with a tray of mimosas. I put Sara’s empty beer on the tray and grab two of the fresh glasses, handing one to her.
“I have this appearance in New York in about two weeks. It’s a club opening, and it’s for a good cause, too. I think I want to do a little Q and A for the crowd.”
“Your Q and As are popular,” she quips.
“That’s not all,” I say. “I would love for you to come with me. Present a mini version of the episode you’re working on. The gig is in connection with a sex education non-profit up in New York, and I know it would be right in your wheelhouse.”
Sara takes a sip of her drink thoughtfully. I can see the gears inside her head turning as she considers my offer. It’s a good opportunity for her - it’d be a great line on her resume, but I know she’s afraid of being alone with me for too long, unable to resist my charm.
“Nothing inappropriate,” I add. “You and I would have separate hotel rooms. I’ll book you in a different hotel if you want, if you’re afraid you can’t control yourself around me. Plus, you’ll get a bonus for coming with me.”
“Bonus?” she asks. “What kind of bonus?”
“How’s five grand sound?”
“This sounds like you’re propositioning me, but it’s like a reverse proposition. You’re going to pay me to come on a business trip with you, but nothing inappropriate is going to happen and we won’t even be in the same hotel.”
“Then just call it business as usual.”
She smirks.
“Okay. You have a deal,” she says, putting her hand out. A jolt of electricity ricochets between us when we shake. “It’s opposite day,” she says. “A reverse mimosa, and now an actual, legitimate business deal from a certifiable dirty talker. Nothing unprofessional at all.”
“I never said working for me would be boring. We can keep it professional and still keep it fun.”
A devilish grin forms on her face as I swim away from her and her toes flick at the water, sending small splashes onto my chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask, gazing at her eyes.
“Keeping things fun,” she replies, smirking.
“Don’t keep doing that,” I say. “You don’t know how much fun I can show you.”
I grab her ankles softly and hold them in place. She gasps and bites her bottom lip.
“What the hell are you doing?” she mewls.
“So you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
I slide my hands up her legs and stop at her knees, coming closer to her. Her breath hitches in her throat as I get higher, pressing my chest against her knees.
“I can take it,” she says, her breathing becoming rapid. She leans forward. She’s about to give me a tongue lashing, something about keeping this professional, and it’s all my cock wants. To be told what to do by this gorgeous girl with the face of an angel and the mouth of a bad girl.
Her face is inches away from mine, and her eyes move slowly between my eyes and my lips. Her eyes are glimmering, the flecks of honey and amber bringing me deeper and deeper.
I test her, putting my hands on her waist and holding her tight in my hands.
“You wouldn’t.” Sara slips her hands onto my shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly like she’s never touched someone like me. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I inch forward and put my forehead against hers, my hands gripping her tightly. I scoop her up and toss her easily into the water next to me, gently but powerfully. Her body takes to the water like she’s a mermaid, and she dunks her head down beneath the surface, coming up to get air slowly, the water sliding off her silky skin. Her breasts move under the bikini top as she breathes slowly, steadily. She grabs her drink, takes a sip, and wades away from me slowly, tossing a smile over her shoulder.
11
Sara
Five thousand dollars isn’t a lot of money for Ryan Hart. He offered it to me for doing something I would have done anyway, something that’s already part of my job.
The trip itself would have been a fabulous bonus on its own. Preparing a presentation would be a challenge, and with only two weeks to complete, it would have been extra hard. But again, it’s already part of my job.
I don’t know if I’m going to be able to ever say no to the boss, even if he asks me to do something decidedly outside of my job duties.
Aside from being the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen, he makes me laugh, which is one of the hottest qualities in a guy.
And this fabulous house isn’t so bad, either. It beats my place. I make my way into the home through the large sliding glass doors and allow myself to explore the first floor a little. In addition to the movie screening room, there’s a small studio where I assume he records occasionally, a large guest bathroom with a soaking tub and an incredible view of the ocean, and a guest bedroom made up with what I can only describe as opulent simplicity. Its modern lines and soothing grey and earth tones are complimented with luxe fabrics and textures.
I sit down on the edge of the King-size bed and smooth my hands across the luxurious silver and grey threaded damask fabric. Whoever decorated this room knows my style to a T, and it’s how I’d decorate my apartment if I had the money. The bed is like a souped-up, grown-up version of what I have back at home.
Allowing myself to indulge a bit, I lay back and let myself fall backwards onto the bed. The sumptuous fabric envelopes me and I close my eyes, attempting to let my worries fall away for just a moment.
I’m so grateful for the opportunity to go to New York with Ryan, maybe even m
ore than I am for the big bonus I’ll receive for coming along. The absolute last thing I need right now is to allow myself to cross the line with him from something professional to something more. The line is thin, and I’m already dancing precariously on it, the risk of falling over into forbidden territory growing greater by the second.
Forbidden territory. I stretch my arms out over my head, letting my thoughts drift away to my boss. His chiseled jaw and body made for sin. It’s making my head spin.
Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, I quickly bolt up straight and adjust my bathing suit top, brushing my hair away from my face. It’s still damp and heavy falling down my back.
A few knocks at the door precede Ryan popping his head in before I have a chance to clear my throat and tell him to come in.
“What are you doing in here?” He comes in and closes the door behind him softly, striding over to me confidently, his chest still wet and glistening with a combination of sweat and pool water. He puts his beer down on the low chest of drawers against the wall across from the bed and leans back on it.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, starting to get up. “I probably shouldn’t be snooping around.”
“No,” he says, “it’s okay. Sit. Relax.”
I sit back down and he walks over to me slowly, the corded muscle in his chest and arms flexing in front of me, sending a flush of heat into my body, starting at the top of my head and radiating out to my fingers and toes. Ryan hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his swim trunks, leading my eyes straight ahead to the tantalizing V leading down lower.
“I was just admiring your home, sir. I like this room in particular. I like the colors.” He takes his fingers out of his pants and crosses his arms in front of his chest as my voice hitches in my throat. “They’re very soothing.”
“Is that what you like?” he asks. I tilt my chin up, taking him in. I feel his eyes drink me in in return, and as he licks his lips an arrow of heat hits between my legs.
“Yes,” I whisper. I should get up and leave. I should fight this tooth and nail.
