Undersold

by B. B. Hamel

  “Alright, back to the salt mine for me. Goodbyeeee....” She drew out the ‘e’ as she was wheeled back to her side.

  “Good one,” I said.

  “Thank you!” she replied.

  Speculating about Shane’s sex life may have been a game for everyone else, but it was like a full time job for me.

  As I found myself daydreaming about his strong, broad chest again, my desk phone rang.

  “Hello, Amy Woodall.”

  “Hi Amy, it’s Janice. How are you?” My heart skipped a beat. A call from Janice usually meant Shane wanted something.

  “I’m good, just working hard. What’s up?”

  “Mr. Green would like to see you in a few minutes. No rush. Bring your things.”

  “Should I come now?”

  “Sure, if you’re available this second. He has the next hour free and wants to look over your project.”

  “Okay, sounds good. I’ll be there soon.”

  He wanted to see me in his office. I hadn’t been there since....well, since he pulled off my panties and gave me the best orgasm of my life.

  I saved my work, closed my laptop, and hurried over to his office. My heart was beating hard, and I had to remind myself that we were only coworkers. More than that, he was my boss, and the owner of the company. I couldn’t get my hopes up.

  Janice was sitting at her desk and she smiled big as I approached.

  “Well hello there Amy, that was quick.”

  “I wasn’t super busy, and I don’t want to waste his time.” Was it obvious that I was eager to see him?

  “Totally understand. Always a good idea to impress the boss.” Janice winked. If she only knew how badly I wanted to impress him, and how I wanted to do it, she might not be so ready to joke around.

  Janice picked up her phone, spoke quietly for a moment, then hung it up.

  “Go on in.”

  “Thanks Janice.”

  She gave me another smile, and then went back to her work. I opened the doors to Shane’s office, and walked inside. It was still Spartan and simple, which surprised me all over again, and the memory of his lips against my neck and his fingers between my legs came flooding back. I found myself feeling excited all over again, which was so stupid.

  Shane was sitting behind his desk, and looked up when I entered.

  “Hi Amy, take a seat.” He motioned toward the table we had used before.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I put my laptop and notes in the same spot as the first time and wondered if it was the same chair I was sitting in. I was being a psycho, I realized, and pushed those thoughts from my mind. This was just a business meeting. This was just a business meeting. That would be my mantra from then forward.

  He finished what he was working on, and came to sit at the table. This time, he sat across from me, and leaned on the tabletop with his elbows, his hands folded in front of him.

  “Alright Amy, what do you have for me?”

  I had a lot for him. But I spun my laptop around, and we dove into the project.

  Twenty minutes passed that way. We went through all the work together, and he never once moved from his side of the table. He was cordial and professional, even comfortable, but we stuck strictly to work topics. We wrapped up, and I started putting my stuff away. He leaned back in his chair and knitted his fingers behind his head. I couldn’t help but stare at his biceps for a brief moment before looking away. He was beautiful, finely chiseled and well worked, at least six feet in height. He dominated whatever room he entered, and I felt myself drawn to him. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about his body.

  “I’m really pleased with this, Amy.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Green,” I said. I wanted to add, I’d rather please you in other ways. Those thoughts were getting harder to suppress.

  He moved to stand up, and suddenly I was filled with something odd. It was a feeling, or maybe a compulsion, some irresistible force at least, and it felt like it came from outside of me. The truth was, it was my confidence, returning for a brief moment of insanity. And I really was insane to break our silence, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was completely swept away. I was willing to risk my job, maybe even my career.

  “Listen, Shane. I just want to say something, real fast.” He stopped and looked at me for a second. I couldn’t read his expression, but at least he didn’t walk away or reprimand me for using his first name.

  “I know you’re a private man, and I know you can’t do anything with me in public. I understand and respect that. I want to try this, whatever me and you have, but I can’t do it if you’re seeing other people. I mean, what else could it be? I feel so stupid saying this, but—“

  Before I could finish, he held up his hand. That simple gesture made me stop talking as if he had touched me. Before I could say anything more, he was moving around the table. I lost my train of thought as his body filled my vision, and he stooped down to kiss my lips.

  It took me completely by surprise, but I melted into his kiss. The hunger was back, and our mouths opened to let our tongues run against each other. I felt his smooth, soft lips against mine, and his hands ran through my hair. The kiss felt like it lasted an hour before he pulled away.

  “Ah,” was all I could say. He crouched down in front of me.

  “I have to apologize to you again, Amy.” His eyes were clear and serious, and there was a sadness to him I couldn’t place. He was brooding and dark, and I wanted to crack him open and to drink whatever secrets he had hidden away.

  “What, that? I liked that,” I said, head still swimming.

  He grinned. “Not the kiss. I’m not sorry about that.” He shifted his body and moved closer, and took my right hand between his fingers. “I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that there was somebody else. There is nobody else.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re not seeing anyone else? You’re not embarrassed of me?”

  He looked like I had punched him in the gut. “Embarrassed of you?”

  “I mean, you’re gorgeous, rich, and powerful. I’m just a normal girl from Levittown.”

  “Listen to me. I feel drawn to you in a way that I can’t explain. You make me want to break my rules. More than that, you’re brilliant. How many apps did my company buy this year?”

  “You guys bought three, including mine. As far as I know, at least.”

  “Exactly. Two others. And those two were built by teams of programmers and developers and marketed heavily. You’re the first software developer we’ve ever bought out who created and implemented her own designs. It’s amazing.”

  “I don’t know,” was all I could say.

  “I do know. Listen to me. What I said at dinner, it was to protect both of us. I thought you understood that, and that’s why I assumed you wanted to remain professional. There’s nobody else, and I am far from embarrassed.”

  Things were starting to click for me. He never did mention anyone else, and his story was always the same. His need for privacy was his main motivating force, and his desire to protect me from the spotlight came second. And he did choose me, he did buy my app, and he was actively working with me to create and develop my product. Even without the promise of sex, he wanted to work with me.

  “I want you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

  He leaned in and kissed me again, hard, and I felt myself beginning to melt. I was dizzy with confusion and emotion, and his body so close to mind wasn’t helping at all.

  “I want you too,” he said as he pulled away. I leaned in after him and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him again. All I could feel or think about were his muscles underneath my hands and his mouth moving against mine, and the sound of his breath. I felt like I was losing myself in him, and it felt good.

  We broke apart and he looked me deep in the eyes.

  “Let’s try this again,” he said.

  “I’m up for that.” My words came out in a whisper.

  “Alright then. To
night at my place. I’ll cook you dinner and we’ll have a proper, private date.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  “I’ll send my car for you at seven. Does that work?”

  “That absolutely works.” I couldn’t manage a more complex sentence.

  I couldn’t believe this man truly wanted me the same way that I wanted him. I couldn’t believe that I was the only one. My mind was a buzz of desire and disbelief.

  “What about your rules?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I’ll tell you about those tonight.”

  I had no idea what they could be, but I nodded. I could feel excitement building in my chest.

  “Tonight then. For now, let’s pretend we just had a productive business meeting, shall we?” He gave me that grin again, and I laughed.

  “Well, we did have a productive business meeting. Up until the unproductive part, at least.”

  “Those are always my favorite parts,” he said, teasing.

  “Oh, I prefer the business,” I said, teasing right back.

  He laughed. “Alright then, Miss Woodall.” He rocked back onto his heels, stood up, and walked back to his desk. I took a moment to gather myself, and my things, before standing.

  “Have a good day, Mr. Green,” I said.

  See you tonight, he mouthed to me.

  I pushed open his door, and then closed it behind me. Janice smiled as I came out.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “Oh, same as always,” I replied. Inwardly, I was doing cartwheels. I could feel something in my life shift dramatically. I’d be going to Shane Green’s house that night. Janice smiled and nodded, then went back to work like nothing huge had just happened.

  13.

  The car showed up promptly at seven. I knew Shane had worked late from the text he sent me: Stuck in the office still. Thinking of what I want to do to you later. I had a pretty good idea what that was, and it sent my body into thrills trying to imagine it.

  I got into the back and the car started out. He wasn’t there waiting for me, but that made sense; we were meeting at his place, after all. We moved south toward Center City, but stayed on the East side of Broad Street. After a bit we crossed over into the Old City area. This was one of the most expensive parts of Philadelphia: old, historic brownstones, beautiful townhouses and cobblestone streets. It was called Old City because it was the historic district, and it was where the founding fathers lived. I had walked through this area, and even been in one or two of the older houses on tours, but I’d never been in a modern house anywhere near here. It was known as the rich section of the city, and for good reason. It was quiet and idyllic, and every house looked expensively manicured.

  The car pulled over in front of a cute but simple row home at the end of a small side street. Every house here looked well maintained and beautiful, but his wasn’t any different from the others, which surprised me. I halfway expected some ultra modern construction, something new and sleek to go with his tech company vibe. Instead, it was unassuming and simple, and I absolutely loved it.

  “Go on up, ma’am. He’s expecting you,” the driver said.

  “Thank you,” I replied, and got out.

  I walked up the stoop and rang the bell. It was the only modern part of the house: silver and metallic with a small camera. As soon as I hit the button, the door buzzed, and I let myself in.

  The main hall was cramped but lovely. All hardwood floors, dark and smooth, freshly waxed, plus period-appropriate early American furniture—or at least what I guessed was early American. I had no idea, but whoever did the decorating nailed the feel. It was all wood and more wood, with old brooms, bottles, and other objects I couldn’t identify.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” I heard Shane call out. “Straight ahead, and to your right.”

  I walked down the hall, passed paintings of landscapes and boats, all yellowing and slightly worn. I didn’t recognize any of it, but it was beautiful. I appreciated that Shane wanted to keep his house in the spirit of the area, and cultivated a very appropriate feel. I turned right and the hallway opened up into a large, ultramodern kitchen, all clean lines and stainless steel. It was a bit of a contrast to the more antique feel of the front of the house, but it still somehow seemed natural. Standing in front of the stove was Shane in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark wash jeans, and an apron. He smiled huge as I walked in.

  “You look amazing,” he said, and moved toward me.

  “You look better. That apron really brings out your eyes,” I said with a small laugh.

  “Oh this old thing?” He closed the distance between us, grabbed my hips, pulled me close, and kissed me. I melted into his embrace and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He tasted like himself plus something spicy, and it was pleasant as he rolled his tongue against mine.

  We pulled apart after a few moments. I felt like his lips left a trace on mine.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” he said.

  “Just a little bit,” I said, mind swarming with hunger for something that wasn’t food.

  He laughed. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all day.”

  He moved away and for a second I almost reached out to pull him back, but stopped myself. He stirred something on the stove that smelled incredible, rich and savory, maybe a hint of garlic and spice. I sat down at the kitchen island and watched him work.

  “Should be done soon. I hope you like pasta,” he said.

  After fifteen minutes of chatting and cooking, dinner was ready. He took off his apron when he came over to join me. We ate at the kitchen island, and his food impressed me. The pasta was perfectly done, and it was clear he had made the sauce himself from scratch. I was starting to think maybe his comment about being stuck in the office was a little white lie, but I wasn’t going to call him on it. This had clearly taken more time than he said it had.

  Things were easy and pleasant between us. We talked about work, but not too much. We ranged between movies and TV shows we’ve watched, and he told me more about his life in Philadelphia. Apparently, his family was from the city, a ‘classic South Philly clan’ was how he put it. I told him about being from the suburbs and Levittown. We finished eating and lingered over our plates, both unwilling to end such an easy and nice part of the night.

  “You have a beautiful house,” I said.

  “Thank you. George Washington used to live here for a little bit.”

  I was stunned. “Is that true?”

  “Nope, not at all. But I still tell people it is,” he said, grinning.

  I smacked him lightly on the arm. “I didn’t expect this, honestly.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. Something more modern. Expensive-looking.”

  “You should have realized that I’m not into being flashy. This place is pretty much as original as possible. Most of the furniture is colonial as well, I think. I’m not totally sure. I hired someone to decorate.”

  I laughed. “That’s what I guessed. Whoever it was did a great job.”

  He leaned in close to me with a mischievous look on his face. “Want the tour?”

  I smiled. “I’d love that.”

  He stood up and cleared our dishes. Once they were in the sink, he pulled off his apron, and put his hand out for me. “Right this way.”

  We went back out into the hall and he pointed out some of the paintings. They were all early American, and he said some of them were actually by important artists, though I didn’t recognize any names. He led me further down the hall, back to the foyer, and up a staircase. My heart began to flutter; it was pretty obvious what his game was, but I still felt nervous and excited.

  At the top of the stairs, he turned left, and took me into a large, open bedroom space that must have been half the upper floor. A huge bed in the middle dominated the room. A chair and a couch took up one wall, and the others were covered in bookshelves, with a large wooden desk on the last wall. There were small antiques everyw
here and more paintings lined the walls. It looked more like a library than a bedroom.

  “Is this your office or where you sleep?” I asked.

  He grinned at me. “A bit of both, honestly. I like books; I’ve always been a huge reader. So it’s comforting to have them around.”

  I walked over to a shelf and ran my fingers over their spines. Titles I recognized and titles I didn’t, hundreds of them in all directions. I was a pretty big reader, too, but didn’t have nearly as many books as he did. I guessed only the public library did, or maybe the local universities.

  He came up behind me as I was looking through them and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his soft lips graze my neck and his hand tilt my head to the side. His lips moved up to the base of my jaw, and he kissed me from behind. I almost dropped the book I was holding as the excitement hit me deep. I was in Shane Green’s bedroom, holding his book, being kissed by his perfect lips, being touched by his sculpted body. I managed to fumble the book shut and push it back onto the shelf as he continued to kiss me. I turned around and fully met his lips with mine, and I could feel my hunger for him growing as our lips parted and our tongues met. He pulled away and wrapped his arms around me then kissed my neck.

  “This was an excuse to get you up here,” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath sent a tingle down my back.

  “I figured that out,” I said back.

  He ran his hand up my inner thigh, passed the hem of my dress, and gently touched my soaking wet mound.

  “Do you want to know my rules,” he whispered as he started to gently rub. My knees nearly buckled, and I had to grab onto his strong frame to keep myself standing.

  “Yes,” I whispered back, voice thick with pleasure.

  He skillfully worked my body, and smelled my neck. “Rule number one. You can tell nobody, not another living soul, that we are together.” I felt my body convulse with pleasure as he slid his hand underneath my panties. His calloused fingers ran themselves over my soaked clit, and my knees shook with the effort to remain upright.

  “Yes,” I whispered, enraptured.

  “Rule number two,” he said into my ear. “You cannot see another man while you are with me. You are mine and only mine.”