Filthy Boss

by Amy Brent

  She was home one Saturday morning, almost a month after the last time she'd seen Thomas, working in her garden. Her poor little flowers were struggling, thanks to the moody weather that had been swinging back and forth between hot and freezing every few days. And since she couldn't afford to buy any fertilizer or weed killer, she was having a hard time getting her garden to thrive.

  She was pulling weeds with her bare hands when her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She muttered a curse and wiped her dirty hands on her pants, then pulled her phone out. It was a number she didn't recognize, but when she answered the phone, she heard a familiar voice on the other end.

  “Jillian.”

  “Thomas.” Her breath caught in her throat. Had he not forgotten about her after all?

  “I've been thinking about you,” he said.

  She chewed on her lip, trying to figure out what to say. She could tell him that she'd been thinking about him, too. That she'd spent many nights dreaming about his touch. Or that she desperately needed more money, and she was willing to do anything to get it. Especially when it would mean doing something that she had been craving for weeks.

  But she couldn't clear her head enough to say any of those things. Instead, she simply asked, “How's your back been doing?”

  He chuckled into the phone. “It's all right. I've got more movement in my shoulders now. Though my new therapist doesn't quite have your touch.”

  Her face heated up as she wondered if he was talking about her medical touch, or the other kind.

  There was a long, awkward silence. Then he said, “I want to see you again.”

  “As your therapist?” she asked, knowing that wasn't what he meant.

  “No,” he said. “At my place. Tonight.”

  She tilted her head back and looked up at the cloudy sky. This was what she'd been hoping for, but part of her was still hesitant. While the night they'd spent together had been amazing, the morning after had been humiliating. She wasn't sure if she could go through that again.

  “Please,” he said. “Come on. You know you had a good time. And I'm sure you could use the money.”

  Those last words were like a knife twisting in her gut. They told her exactly what she was to him. Not a girlfriend, not someone he had romantic feelings for. Just a prostitute.

  But she really did need the money.

  “Okay,” she said. “What time?”

  They discussed the arrangements, and then she went inside to shower and change. She spent the car ride there drinking a few glasses of wine to soothe her nerves. She felt fidgety, constantly needing to move her hands. She picked at the threads on her dressed and smoothed out her skirt. She knew it was silly to be nervous. She wasn't doing anything that she hadn't already done before. But somehow, she felt more terrified about the night this time than she had the first time.

  Thomas greeted her as soon as she got off the elevator, once again holding out a rose. She decided this time to ignore the gift. It gave the wrong impression about what the night was about.

  They sat down for dinner and made small talk. This time, Thomas had made lamb chops with a wonderful balsamic sauce, and each bite was absolute heaven. At first the conversation was bland, with Thomas asking her about how things were going at work and whether she'd been enjoying the weather lately. Then the subject turned to something that, while perfectly casual, felt a little too personal for her.

  “So,” Thomas asked, “have you been keeping up with your gardening?”

  Jillian froze with a forkful halfway to her mouth, then set it down and wiped her lips with her napkin. “Do you really care?” she asked.

  “Of course I do,” he said, wearing a confused frown. “I want to get to know you better.”

  “Why?” She spread her hands. “Why not just get right down to business?”

  His frown deepened. “Jillian, what's the matter? I'm just trying to be friendly here. We were having such a nice evening.”

  “I...” She shook her head, then tossed her napkin back down on the table. “I'm sorry. Excuse me a moment.”

  She got up and headed into the bathroom, fighting back tears. She didn't understand why she was getting so worked up. He'd just asked her a simple question.

  But, she realized, it wasn't so simple. Her gardening was a part of her personal life. While it wasn't something intimate or secret, it was something that was very much a part of her. Asking her about part of her personal life meant that the evening was becoming more personal, less professional. And she'd come here to do something professional.

  She paced back and forth in the spacious bathroom for a few minutes, dabbing at her eyes with a piece of tissue. She needed to get herself together and get back out there. She had to go through with this. She wanted to go through with it. But the problem was, she couldn't really have what she wanted. This would never become a committed relationship. They would never go out in public. Thomas would never meet her family. They wouldn't exchange gifts at Christmas or on their birthdays. The most they would exchange would be money and bodily fluids.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, setting her jaw determinedly. She silently told herself that she was going to go back out there, put on a good show of being the girl Thomas wanted, do the deed, then leave without spending the night.

  She wiped away the last of her tears and gave herself a serious nod. Then she turned and left the bathroom.

  Thomas was sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, waiting for her. He looked tense, and he wore a concerned expression on his face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, forcing a smile. “Just had a little too much wine, I think.”

  “Ahh, okay. Good.”

  He set down his wine glass and went over to the stereo to put on some music. Jillian hesitated. She didn't want to dance again. Which was to say, she did want to dance again, but she couldn't let herself. It had felt nice to be in Thomas's arms, sharing a quiet, intimate moment like that. But that was the sort of thing that riled up all of her confused, conflicting emotions. She wanted to keep things as impersonal as she could. Professional.

  She intercepted him on the way to the stereo and started kissing him passionately. He gasped in surprise, but surrendered to her kiss, his arms slipping around her. She slid her tongue between his lips and pressed herself against him. It didn't take long before she could feel something poking her and she knew she was getting him worked up.

  “Wait, slow down,” he said.

  She ignored his request and slipped her hand down to grab him between his legs. She started rubbing, firm and quick, and soon he lost the ability to protest.

  He tried to steer her towards the bedroom, but that felt too personal to her. She pushed him down on the couch and got down on her knees, unzipping his pants. He was flushed and his breathing was becoming erratic as his arousal passed the point of no return. When she pulled down his pants and took him into her mouth, he moaned out loud, dropping his head back and relaxing against the sofa.

  She worked him up for a few minutes until she was sure he was more than ready to go. Then she slipped off her underwear, hitched up her skirt, and climbed on top of him.

  He grabbed her hips and guided her as she rode him. Unlike last time, she didn't want to take her time. Sure, she wanted to enjoy herself. But there was a big difference between slow, intimate sex, and a good hard fucking. She only wanted the latter. It would satisfy her physical urges without stirring up the same intimate feelings that came with making love.

  Thomas's grunts grew more forceful. He held onto her tight, thrusting up into her as she rode him. She grinned, knowing that she had him right where she wanted him. She wasn't near climaxing herself, but she faked it, letting out some deep, guttural moans and arching her back. She laid it on thick, giving her best to the performance. She needed to make sure Thomas was satisfied, and part of that was making him believe he'd satisfied her as well.

  When it was done, he clung to her, burying his face against her shoul
der. She let him hold her for just a minute, then she got up, retrieved her underwear, and pulled it back on. She adjusted her dress and her hair while Thomas sat there, panting.

  He looked up at her with a satisfied smile, then pouted when he saw she was getting ready to leave. “You in a rush, babe?”

  “I've got an early day tomorrow,” she said.

  “Tomorrow's Sunday.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I have church.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat, his face turning red. She wondered if the subject of God was a touchy one for a man who paid a woman to have sex with him.

  He went into the bedroom, zipping up his pants, and returned with the envelope that held her money. She put it into her purse, gave Thomas a quick kiss on the cheek, and headed for the door.

  He followed her and put his arm across the door, blocking her way. “When do I get to see you again?” he asked. He reached up to caress her cheek. She wanted to pull away from the tender gesture, but she let it happen so as not to offend him.

  “My schedule is kind of busy.” She bit her lip, trying to think of what to say. She needed the money, so she would definitely be coming back. But she didn't want this to be a regular thing. If she came to him every weekend, it would feel too much like dating.

  “Next month,” she said. Thomas pouted in disappointment. “I'm sorry. I just can't fit the time into my schedule otherwise.”

  “All right,” he said. He leaned in and gave her a kiss. She let his lips linger on his for a few moments, then pulled away.

  He watched her as she headed into the elevator. She kept her back straight, trying not to show any signs of weakness. She kept it completely professional. She even accepted a ride home from Thomas's driver this time.

  It wasn't until she got home and was lying in her own bed that the weight of the night started to settle onto her. She stared at the ceiling, thinking about what she'd done. About what she would do again next month.

  And about how much she wished she didn't have to detach herself from it so much. But keeping the emotional distance was the only way she could survive this. If she let herself get too close to Thomas, she knew that sooner or later, she would end up with a broken heart.

  Over the next few months, Jillian and Thomas were a regular thing. Every few weeks, he would give her a call, asking her to come see him. She agreed each time, but only because she continued to be desperate for the money. After their third encounter, she sat down at home one day, going over her budget and doing some math. She'd already managed to pay off two credit cards with the money Thomas had paid her. But it would take several more months before she could pay off the rest and get rid of her student loans at the same time. After working the numbers, she realized that if she wanted to pay off everything—except for her mortgage, which she had twenty-five years left on—she would need to continue sleeping with Thomas about once a month until the end of the year. She could get it done faster if she agreed to see him more often, but try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to do that. She needed time between each encounter in order to let her emotions settle. It was the only way to avoid becoming too attached.

  She woke up one Saturday morning after a long and tiresome night. She'd been stuck at the clinic late, and she'd forgotten to eat dinner. Her stomach was bothering her, she was grumpy, and all she wanted to do was sleep in and forget about the world.

  She was pulling the covers over her head to go back to sleep when her phone rang. She grabbed it, ready to chuck it across the room, when she saw it was Thomas calling.

  She groaned, but answered the phone anyway, mumbling a grumpy, “Yeah?”

  “Hey, babe,” he said. “How's my favorite girl this morning?”

  She glared at the ceiling, wondering what he even meant by that. Sometimes she thought that maybe he meant such things, that he really did care about her. Other times she knew she was just his whore.

  “I'm really not feeling well,” she said.

  “Oh. That's too bad.” There was a long pause. “Because I was hoping you'd come over today.”

  Jillian stared at the clock. It was too early in the morning to deal with this. But on the other hand, she knew she needed to keep this deal going. For all she knew, a rejection would send Thomas searching for another girl. “I'd love to,” she said.

  “Really? That's great.”

  Jillian held back a sigh. It sounded like there was genuine excitement in his voice. “Give me a couple of hours, okay?”

  “Okay, babe,” he said. “Sure thing. Whatever my girl needs.”

  She hung up the phone, her thoughts lingering on the words “my girl.” She tried to banish such thoughts from her mind, but she couldn't help but wonder what kind of feelings Thomas might have been developing for her.

  She got dressed slowly, fighting the sensations of nausea that wouldn't go away. She avoided the wine during the car ride this time, feeling pretty certain that it would make her vomit. The last thing she needed to do was throw up all over Thomas's expensive apartment. For all she knew, he would take the cleaning bill out of her pay.

  She and Thomas had lunch together, though she had a hard time eating. He'd made a spicy meal, and after a few bites, she found that it just wasn't agreeing with her.

  He seemed to notice that she was still feeling under the weather. “You sure you're okay today, babe?” he asked. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I'm fine,” she said. She stretched and reached around to rub a hand against her lower back. “Just a bit sore after a long work week.”

  “Here, let me take care of that. You shouldn't always have to be the one fixing other people's back problems.”

  He led her over to the couch and started giving her a slow, sensual back rub. She laid face down on the sofa, letting his hands roam her body. It felt so good and started to relieve the tension in her aching muscles. Though her nausea didn't want to go away.

  It wasn't long before Thomas's hands started to roam. She closed her eyes, wishing she could tell him to stop. It had felt so nice to have him touch her in a nonsexual way for once. And with the way her stomach was feeling, she wasn't really in the mood.

  “Baby?” she asked, lifting her head up.

  “What's up?” His hands continued rubbing her, straying now below her waist.

  “Can we just relax for a while?” She twisted around a bit to look at him. “I'm really sorry to ruin the mood. I just need a little time to let lunch settle, I guess.”

  “All right,” he said. “If that's what you need.”

  He sat next to her on the couch. She could tell by the look on his face that he was disappointed, but he didn't say anything about it.

  They ended up watching a movie on his big screen TV. Thomas had his arm around her the entire time, and she laid her head against his shoulder, pretending that this was just a normal Saturday with a normal guy. She knew what would have to come later, though she still wasn't in the mood. The obligation, the knowledge that there was only one real reason that he'd asked her here, made it hard for her to feel any arousal.

  After the movie ended, Thomas started kissing her. She tried to respond, but her heart just wasn't in it. He picked up on that pretty quickly and pulled away, hanging his head and sighing.

  “Listen, babe,” he said. “If you're not feeling well, we don't have to do anything today.”

  “I don't want to be a let down,” she said. Tears started to well in her eyes.

  He caressed her cheek and smiled at her. “It's okay. Really. We'll make up for it another time.”

  He gave her a gentle kiss, then she gathered her things and got ready to leave. Though when she got to the door, he still handed her the envelope with her payment.

  “But I didn't do anything,” she said.

  “Yes, you did.” He smiled at her and kissed her hand. “You showed me a good time. Maybe not in the usual way, but I had a really nice time today, just spending time with you.”

  She toyed with the edges of the enve
lope, torn between taking the money and giving it back. But he led her into the elevator before she could bring herself to return it.

  “I'll see you next time, all right?” he said.

  “All right.” She smiled at him, genuinely grateful for his understanding.

  She went home and spent the rest of the day relaxing. The next morning, she was feeling sick again. On top of that, her breasts were sore, which confused her since she and Thomas hadn't even done anything together. Though a cold realization slowly dawned on her as she considered a possible explanation.

  A home pregnancy test soon confirmed her fears. She'd been using birth control each time she'd been with Thomas, but she knew that such things were never 100%. She'd have to go to a doctor to find out for certain if the test was accurate, but as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that it was true.

  She was pregnant. And there was no way she could consider raising a child together with Thomas. She didn't know what she was going to do.

  As the next couple of months passed, Jillian encouraged Thomas to call on her more frequently. She was determined to reach the end of their “business relationship,” but she couldn't do so until she'd earned enough money to get out of debt. Raising a child would be expensive, but she'd run the numbers, and found that once she was debt-free, she would be able to afford to feed and clothe the child with the money from her regular salary. She just needed to get out of debt before the baby was born.

  For a while, Thomas gave no signs that he had any idea what was going on. She went to his penthouse each time he called. They ate, they danced, they enjoyed quiet evenings together, and she did her best to please him in bed. The more time they spent together, the more amazing their nights together started to feel. She found herself wanting to take her time, to linger with his touch. She even started spending the night again, in order to feel his arms around her all night long.