by Fifi Flowers
How could it be bad, Waverly?
And…if that wasn’t enough to grab your attention, the place was known to be a great place to meet people.
Maybe it was time, Waverly?
My father’s obsession with creating mountains of flaky pastry and my mother’s laughter seemed to keep replaying since I started gearing up for my new position along with thoughts about my amazing graduation present… Backpacking around Europe, of course, always led to thoughts about him in my daydreams—rarely in my dreams. Those visions seemed to be reserved for my parents, two people so in love.
That’s what I needed. Perhaps they were sending me a message. Find the croissants and meet the man. It certainly couldn’t hurt to find someone that loved pastry and… What did it matter if they liked sweets or not? I could use a little action. It had been too long and with the flood of my recent thoughts, my body was on high alert and ready. I just hoped that I didn’t appear desperate or overly eager.
“Really, Waverly?”
I shook my head at my own soft murmur as I took a seat at a table with a view out the front window. Scanning the big open space of the café, it looked like it was out of one of my French daydreams. I sighed with a little whimper remembering scenes that popped into my head.
“Behave, Waverly.”
I shook my head again. The last thing I needed was for people to think I was a crazy person talking to myself.
“What can I get you?” a young woman with a lovely voice asked me and I wondered if she sang at the café’s open mic night I had read about.
I nearly pointed and said “him” as I saw a full head of long golden blond hair attached to a manly body that quickly blipped past the front window. Probably some hot surfer dude…or… There went my mind to a certain water polo player and learning to swim in his arms. I nearly laughed out loud. I hadn’t even seen the guy’s face and my thoughts were running away to my silly daydreams.
“Get your croissant and get over it, Waverly.”
“Croissant? Plain… or chocolate?” I snapped my head up and looked at the pretty girl as she continued. “The chocolate ones are fresh out of the oven and smell incredible. But if you’re a purist, the straight up ones are equally delicious and I could have it warmed for you.”
Not wanting her to think I spoke to myself in third-person—which I often did—I apologized for my lost brain and agreed to a chocolate one along with a latte. Then before she could escape, I yammered out my nervousness of meeting my new employees and being in charge.
I liked her immediately when she responded, “Something tells me that you’re going to be great. Just your clothes alone are a hit!” She smiled sincerely and seemed to know a lot about fashion as she rattled off the brand names of my navy pencil skirt with white pinstripes and white blouse with crisp French cuffs paired “fabulously” with red pumps—all without seeing labels. Smiling back at her, I thanked her for making me feel much better before she disappeared behind the pastry case that was filled with items that looked adorable and delicious.
She was right about the flaky chocolate treat. It was out of this world…maybe better than any croissant I had ever tasted. I hoped that my brain wouldn’t relay that thought to my father who may be offended and tell me so in my next dream.
Suddenly, my mind dipped and I was filled with sadness instead of thinking I was out of my mind crazy. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone the croissant route. Maybe I should’ve tried a mini-cake with cute little flowers and garden bugs on them. The croissant dream was a happy memory of my parents and I didn’t want it to fade into darkness. I still needed them to be important in my life…
“What a stupid thing to think, Waverly. It doesn’t matter if you ate the croissant over the tiny cakes.”
Oh my God. I needed to stop talking to myself or I’d, for sure, never be able to show my face in the café again.
“You know, Waverly…” A voice other than mine addressed me. “May I call you that?” I nodded my approval. “If you really want to make friends, you might want to take some pastry along to your new staff.”
Agreeing with her recommendation, I had a variety of cookies boxed up. In fact, I emptied the trays and, in turn, forfeited the idea of walking to work in favor of a hired car. For sure I would be returning to the café to explore their entire menu and baked goods that made my mouth water just looking at them on display. I also made a mental note to sit outside on the garden enhanced patio in the back that I noticed when I visited the ladies’ room before leaving.
Damn shame about my shoes I thought again stepping out the front door into the warm morning sunshine. Then shrugging, I willingly climbed into the backseat of a very luxurious sedan waiting for me at the curb.
“I swear that place has the best cookies…actually everything is good,” my friendly driver announced before greeting me with a hello.
Smiling, I replied and hoped that my words would make his day. “Well, you’re in luck. I bought several dozens and cleaned them out.” Then I presented him with his favorite—oatmeal, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—cookie before departing the vehicle stopped in front of my building.
Crossing the pavement, I entered the lobby and strolled by the reception desk greeting the guys with a wave and headed for the bank of elevators. Still early enough that no one had arrived, I unlocked the clear glass doors in the middle of a wall of frosted glass. Walking by a circular reception desk close to the entrance—that was probably useless—I made my way to a glass enclosed conference area. Inside, I placed the sweet treats on a high shiny white credenza that housed a couple of built-in refrigerators on each end. Then I quickly set out coffee condiments and made a few pots of coffee which I poured into two large coffee dispensers to keep it piping hot.
Set for the arrival of my new employees, I headed to my office.
“Wow, Waverly, you did a good job,” I said excitedly out loud.
I hadn’t seen everything put together and was overjoyed by the results. I wasn’t sure about a nautical theme but with the Pacific Ocean view it seemed perfect. Who would’ve pictured me with a colorful fish mounted on the wall and other watercolor paintings of fish? I really loved the additional hanging sea glass lighting fixtures besides basic can lights and the antique telescope in the corner near the window was a nice touch.
Seated in my new black leather office chair across from two tuft minty green chairs each outfitted with an ornate navy pillow border with a somewhat frilly fringe, I sat back and took it all doing a little spin. It was when I returned to a forward facing position that a big jolting surprise greeted me.
“Hey Hot Stuff!” He was hotter than hot standing in front of me wearing a nicely fitted suit with a dress shirt that nearly matched my two guest chairs. My gaze wandered over him, taking in his perfectly style dark brown hair, a dazzling model-worthy smile and light eyes that could’ve been blue or green. Then he slapped me in the face with his next set of words directed at me. “Why don’t you go fetch me some coffee… and get your sweet ass out of my chair.”
Hot Stuff? His chair? Sweet ass?
How could he even know anything about my ass since it was planted in my seat? In fact, sitting behind my new sleek white desk with a fabulous s-shaped bookcase built into it, he couldn’t see much of my body… Had he mentioned my great set of tits in my maybe unbuttoned a bit too low blouse… Well, then his comment could’ve made perfect sense.
Where did your snippiness come from, Waverly?
“I think there is some mistake, stud, about who the office belongs to unless, of course, your name is Waverly Monroe like the name reads on the…on the office door…”
Crap! The sign wasn’t up yet I noticed as my hand was doing a Vanna-White-presentation wave toward letters that didn’t exist. “…it will…will be on there…soon…ish.”
Fuck! He was absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous and had me stuttering aloud and in my thoughts like a silly girl without a brain in her head. I was a business woman. A powerful one about to be in
charge of a new division and… He…he had to be a subordinate since there was no one above my position.
Time to find out who was attempting to treat me as nothing more than the coffee girl and sexually harassing me… Oh, that last part didn’t sound like a bad thing but rather an enticing one that had my nipples poking against the satiny fabric of my padded bra and had me wishing I had a second pair of panties in my handbag.
Don’t let him think you’re affected by him, Waverly.
Standing up straight from my chair with an air of authority, I straightened my skirt and slowly rounded the desk, exhibiting poise and grace… Thank God because my legs threatened to give out the closer I moved toward him.
“I was right… You’re even better standing up if that’s possible because my thoughts are of you reclined and spread out on my bed.”
My hands immediately flew to a firm position on my hips as I looked at his smug, yet gorgeous face. “Who are you?” I inquired without stuttering.
He was cocky as hell, moving closer to me. “I’m Mav…man.”
He smelled great and I had to keep myself from closing my eyes and breathing him in. He smelled like sandalwood, citrus…and a bit salty…like the beach?
Snap out of it, Waverly. I shook my head and pushed my chest out.
“Yes, and I’m woman.” I stepped around him and moved closer to the office door before continuing. “Do you have a name or are you going with a caveman introduction?”
I couldn’t believe the sassy attitude escaping my lips and my body as I stood firmly in place about to direct him right out of my office. He had rubbed me the wrong way…
Oh, imagine rubbing up against that body of his, Waverly.
“I think I should be asking you the question since obviously—by the looks of the decor in this room—the office belongs to a man. This company belongs to my fa… I should be seated in the largest office…the corner office is reserved for the boss.”
My mouth hung open as he finished his speech by folding his big arms across his massive chest. I wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe he was in the wrong office…on the wrong floor in the building because the decor in the room was hand selected by me for me and reflected me.
Was it too manly?
I looked around the space before addressing him. “I think there is some kind of misunderstanding here, Mr…?”
“Morgan Butler,” he said, puffing out his chest.
Oh. A Butler. Yes, I was standing in the Butler Building. The CEO of Butler Industries was my boss. I knew he had sons that headed different branches. However, he had appointed me the head of the cyber security division and had shown me the office…the office we were standing in on the twenty-third floor. He gave me a budget to decorate… Something was not right.
“I believe you might be on the wrong floor, Mr. Butler. This division is cyber—”
“Yes, my new place in life until I figure out what my next step is… There’s a fish on the wall.” He pointed to it as if that was his answer and validation.
“It’s a marlin. My father caught it off the coast of Baja.” It was my turn to fold my arms across my chest.
Chapter Eight
Morgan
Could I be dreaming? I only knew of one Waverly ever in my life. Not a common name. It had to be her all grown up and sophisticated… Same honey colored hair, dark eyes, great eyelashes… No glasses. Her amazing curvy body was evident beneath a tight skirt and a white blouse that showed a hint of a lace bra. Long legs with…hello, red pumps!
“In regards to your request earlier…”
I hadn’t even gotten started with my demands yet. Like tell me why you left me.
“Coffee is in the conference room with a variety of cookies from an amazing baker at a local café. Charming place…maybe you know it…”
I knew all about cafés. I didn’t need her to tell me about them. I took her to plenty and introduced her to foods she’d never had before…and other things she’d never tried.
What did she ever teach me?
Heartbreak. Mistrust. Heartbreak. Lies. Heartbreak.
I was the one in control. I was the one doing most of the teaching.
“You know Van Gogh painted in Arles.” I did learn something in my art appreciation class, enabling me to point out certain facts. But if I was honest, I only remember artists that had interesting stories and who could forget a guy that cut his own ear off and gave it to a girl?
“I’m not that great at matching art to artist but Van Gogh is hard not to know and the Arles guidebook online says there’s a walking tour. So I figured he painted there…” She smiled at me as we lounged in bed after I woke her up when I came home from a grueling morning practice. “…Show me everything.”
“Are we talking about our day trip or something else?” I raised an eyebrow and she bit her plump bottom lip. I loved the dancing sparkles in her dark eyes.
“Well…well…we…we do have all day to take in the city and…” She wiggled her gorgeous naked body out from beneath the covers and against mine. That was all it took to put things in motion.
I quickly pulled off my drawstring sweatpants and t-shirt to indulge in the warmth of her body. Skin to skin. I was on high alert and ready to plunder.
“You smell like chlorine.” I heard her say as I dipped my head down to worship her beautiful breasts with my tongue and hand, presenting her with my unruly hair, practically, in her face.
I rarely showered after morning practices in favor of coming home to crash out for hours. I should’ve taken the time knowing that Waverly was in my bed.
“I can go shower,” I said, moving back up to plant kisses on her mouth and neck, though I really didn’t want to waste any time with her. Every minute together was sacred.
“I don’t mind.” She held onto me more tightly, wrapping her long legs around my muscular ones, keeping me from moving from between her thighs. “You can teach me about shower sex next,” she whispered against my ear.
Fuck! I was willing to teach her anything and everything she wanted to learn. I just needed to be inside of her and she felt the same way it seemed by the moans escaping her throat. Her sounds and words were like heaven to my ears.
“Oh my God… Oh my God… Morgan… hello…”
What?! Wait! I was hearing her voice but the name was wrong. And why was she saying “hello” right as we were both about ready to explode with our matched thrusts?
“Hello!”
The voice was definitely the same. It had to be her!
“I don’t mean to be rude or encroach on your freedom of expression, but you might want to contain your excitement for the pastry.” She smirked pointing to the front of my dress slacks that unmistakably showed off my erection.
“You might want to take care of it for me before the staff arrives. Your pick—over the desk or down on your knees?” I wasn’t above getting her pissed off. She had already pissed me off years ago when I finally realized she wasn’t coming back, ever. Again, at that moment, she was pissing me off, pretending not to know me.
“I don’t believe that is the way you should speak to your boss! I don’t know what your father told you about your position with this new division, but I assure you that I am in full control of things around here. Including you!”
What was my father thinking if he thought I was going to take orders from her? Be controlled by my Waverly? Never! I was the one in control. I would always be controlling her! She would not be controlling me in any way, shape or form.
“If I remember correctly you liked to be told what to do and relished me in control of your pleasure.” That definitely had to get to her. She would have to respond.
“You know absolutely nothing about me or what I like.” She huffed, walked past me and out of her office.
There was no escape. I followed her right into the conference room where she was busying herself pouring coffee into a real coffee mug.
“Everyone gets to choose their own mug. You have first pick.”
“What if I want the one you’re drinking from?” I smirked at her. “One that tastes of your lips… Your lipstick on my lips.”
“You’re impossible and out of line. First day on the job and you’re about to be written up for sexual harassment.”
If that was what she wanted to call it, fine.
“You know me well enough to know that I would never force myself on you. I would be gentle with you until you begged me to go hard and deep while you shouted ‘oh my God’ at the top of your lungs so the entire building…village could hear you.”
“That’s enough!” Her voice was commanding and filled with anger and had me wondering if she really didn’t recognize me as she continued, “I don’t know more than your name and that you will be working with me in some capacity to get this business up and running…”
“Excuse me.” Another voice sounded behind me and I turned to see a man entering the room. “I’m here for the security job. I assume this is the right place by the name on the front door.”
That was the end of our conversation, the end of my semi-erection, and the end of my first day on the job. Getting nowhere and knowing I couldn’t work for her, I stormed past the man that Waverly was nicely greeting, through the sea of desks and out the front door. My father and I needed to talk about a different position for me.
What was I going to tell my father? I questioned myself silently as I pushed the elevator button over and over, willing it to come faster. I needed to get the hell off the same floor as her before I walked back in there, threw her over my shoulder caveman-style and took her up to my apartment. If she truly didn’t remember, I would remind her as many times as it took and then she would confess to why she never returned. Then she would beg my forgiveness and ask me to take her back.
