I just couldn’t put up with it any more. I decided he had changed into someone I didn’t know any more. I broke up with him, and told myself to never look back.
Yet here I am fantasizing about him just like I have every night since I last saw him. Now that I saw him again, I want him more than ever. I regret what happened, but he’s obviously still a dick— now, he’s a rich douche to boot— so all I have are my fantasies.
I rub myself faster now, a fury of love and hate combining inside me as I pleasure myself. For the millionth time, I imagine Wade bending me over and spreading my legs wide for him. Then he’ll take my virginity, with that big cock that I know he has and I also know that he knows how to use.
I feel a climax coming on and I imagine him thrusting himself in and out of me like my own fingers are right now. I want him to grab my breasts like he used to do— and grab my hips and ass too— as he fucks me from behind.
I need him. I want him. Against all my better instincts, I just know I’d let him take me if there was a good opportunity.
And then I come, a wave of pleasure ripping throughout my entire body as I moan his name out loud.
“Wade. Wade. Wade.”
Finally, I can relax. I soak in the bubbles for a while and then soap myself up. I towel off and then I bring my iPad to bed with me so I can browse the Internet before I fall asleep. If I can fall asleep— even though I know that dreams of Wade will haunt me, like they usually do.
My eyelids feel heavy as soon as I lie down against the pillow. I know that as soon as I fall asleep, I might jolt awake with anxiety over just having lost my job and blown my second chance with my ex. So I better I’m just about to give in and drift up to sleep when I see a new email notification.
It’s from Wade. It was sent half an hour ago— while I was in the tub thinking about him.
Dear Emily,
It was a pleasure running into you today. I apologize if I offended you by bringing up the past. Let’s concentrate on the future going forward, and keep things professional.
I believe that what the hotel did in firing you was unfair as you are clearly a hard worker and passionate person; the world needs more employees with these qualities. For that reason, I would like to offer you a job with my company. The hours are flexible and can fit around your school schedule.
If you would like to accept, please report to 346 Gold St., Suite M, on Tuesday. If not, no hard feelings and I wish you all the best in the future.
Sincerely,
Wade Covington
My heart flutters as I read and re-read his email. He would like to concentrate on the future and keep things professional. I know I should be happy to read this but instead I feel sad. He’s offering me a job, which I desperately need right now— and it can work with my school schedule, unlike the job I just lost.
It’s too good of an offer to pass up, no matter how it might complicate things. I need the job. And, I think, as I realize I can sleep peacefully tonight after all, I need to see him again. Perhaps there is still hope for a second chance for us after all.
Chapter 7 – Wade
When I arrive at Kirtland Air Force Base, Jensen is loading up a few planes, ready to run a parachuting session with the recruits.
“Hey Wade,” he nods. “Glad you could make it. Got a tough run today and I don’t think these newbies have any idea what they’re in store for.”
“Glad I can be here,” I tell him, and I certainly am.
I’m no longer in the Air Force but now that I’ve moved back to Albuquerque to head up my company, I’ve started volunteering to help Jensen train new pararescue recruits, which is his job as a private contractor. I’m grateful for the opportunity to get out from behind the desk and into the fresh outdoors, and do what I love once again.
I’m even happier to be here today than any other day in a while, since my reunion with Emily still keeps playing games with my head. I hate the fact that I still can’t get her off my mind.
“In this exercise a real- life parachuting experience will be simulated,” Jensen tells the group of recruits, and begins giving them instructions. “Since it’s your first time in such a situation, you need to listen up good.”
He gives instructions and then we both cover each of them while they jump. The exhilarating falls sufficiently distract me for a while. But they also remind me of that fateful day that turned things around for me for the worse.
I don’t want to freak out. Through my headphones, I start playing an app that calms me. It reminds me to breathe, to be grateful, to be aware in here and now. And that gets me through the training event. Ever since I made the app, I haven’t had a major episode but there’s no telling when one might come back. I’m not a doctor— and those were useless for me— but only an app designer.
As we walk back towards our starting point, I return to thinking of how glad I am to be here. It’s exciting to be helping him train the next generation of boys in uniform— even if they are our replacements— but I’m still upset that Emily left like that. She should have come home with me and I’d have been in her pants in no time. Damn, how I wanted to feel those full breasts and voluptuous ass with my own hands.
I’ve been jerking off constantly, sliding my hand up and down my shaft while wishing I could stick it inside her. I didn’t pop her cherry but I wish there was a way to savor her sweet, innocent gooiness. I’ve thought about tying her up, teasing her with my tongue and lips and mouth, until she’s begging me to fuck her with my cock. I’ve thought about riding her until she’s weak in the knees and completely out of breath.
I decide to tell Jensen about this new development in my life, before it drives me crazy.
“So, you know that waitress at the ceremony last night?” I ask him.
“The slow one?” he laughs.
“She wasn’t slow,” I quickly defend her. “Just late.”
“Okay, so the late one,” he agrees.
I laugh.
I was expecting him to say “the hot one” but he’s gaga for Riley. Just thinking about how hot Emily is, though, makes my cock half hard.
“That’s Emily Mason,” I tell Jensen.
“No shit,” he says, shaking his head while smiling at me. “The Emily Mason? The one you could never shut up about back in the day.”
“That’s her,” I confess.
“So what are you going to do about it?” he asks me.
Good old Jensen. Always straight forward and to the point.
“I bought her a drink and tried to take her home,” I admit. “But she wasn’t having any of that.”
“Aww man,” he says. “Gotta keep trying harder then.”
“Yeah, I was a dick to her.”
“Are you going to explain why?”
He’s looking straight at me, and we both know how hard that would be to do. Jensen has been through a lot, just like me. Just like his brothers Harlow and Ramsey. Just like everyone in our unit.
I shrug.
“I don’t even know if she’ll give me a chance. I actually offered her a job.”
“You did?”
He looks surprised.
“I felt bad. She got fired from the hotel.”
“No offense, but she kind of deserved to.”
I can’t help but chuckle along with him.
“She had a class that ran late,” I tell him. “She needs a job that can work around her school schedule, because she’s really into this social work program she’s building. I figured I could help her out.”
“Yeah right,” Jensen grins. “You figured you could sexually harass her at the office.”
“Ha.”
But the thought of being with Emily at work— or at home, or out here in the mountains— or anywhere at all really, makes me hard again.
“You tell her about… anything else?” Jensen asks, raising his eyebrows at me.
I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I don’t want to even go there.
“No way,” I tel
l him. “I highly doubt she’d understand that. That’s more of like, a third date conversation.”
“Look at Mr. No Commitment, already planning the third date,” Jensen laughs.
“That’s really something, isn’t it? But it doesn’t matter,” I tell him. “She probably won’t even show up at the office. She thinks I’m a rich asshole.”
“You’re just going to have to prove her wrong then, right?” he asks.
I smile, impressed at his tenacity.
“I’ll sure try.”
If I even ever get to see her again, that is.
Chapter 8 – Emily
I’m so nervous as I enter Covington Enterprises that I hope I’m not visibly shaking. I can’t believe I’m coming to work for my ex, who despite being a dick, has consumed a lot of brain power since we last parted ways and every second of my mind since I last saw him.
It’s also hard for me to believe that I’m coming to work for a big corporation that undoubtedly does unscrupulous things all in the name of making money. On that count, however, I figure it’s no worse than the mega chain hotel I worked at up until they fired me. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
“Hello,” I tell the receptionist as soon as I enter the suite. “I’m Emily Mason. I was told by Mr. Covington that…”
“That you are to start today,” the receptionist says, smiling at me in happy welcome as if I’m the Queen of England. I look around the fancy office with lots of dressed up people— I’ve simply worn a skirt and blouse, and I feel terribly underdressed— and suddenly I feel important. The receptionist was told I would be starting today. I realize, however, that I have no idea what kind of job I’ll actually be starting. Nor even how much I’ll be getting paid. “Right this way.”
He leads me over to a computer that says my name on it when it starts up. Wow, I think. They really were prepared for me.
“Mr. Covington told me to give you these instructions,” the receptionist says. “He says your pay rate will be twenty-five dollars an hour to start out, if that is acceptable for you?”
I nod, trying not to let my mouth fall open.
“Yes,” I say quickly, as soon as I remember how to think. “That will be fine.”
It’s more than twice what I was paid by the hotel, so it’s more than fine.
“Very well,” the receptionist continues. “He’s left you this job acceptance paperwork to fill out, including your contact information and your terms of pay.”
I nod, looking down at the paper to the right of the monitor.
“He also says you are to work at your leisure and during whatever time you have available,” the receptionist continues. “Your first task is to go through the emails the customers sent this week. We recently sent out a survey and these customers are responding to that. If the feedback is good, you should write back to the customer and thank them for weighing in. Encourage them to reach out at any time for anything they need.”
I look at him, surprised that a company would care so much about its customers.
He must mistake my awe for confusion, because he says, “Don’t worry, there’s a template saved in a draft email folder that you can use. But feel free to make it your own. Change up the wording or add whatever niceties you’d like. Mr. Covington clearly trusts your abilities.”
I nod and he opens the email program.
“Now, if there is any negative feedback at all, you are to respond by thanking them and also letting them you’re forwarding their email to Mr. Covington himself. And then you can go ahead and do that. When you start typing ‘Wade Covington,’ his name will come up in the auto predictor and fill the rest of his email address out so you can easily send it to him. He’ll look at it and respond accordingly.”
I nod again, pleasantly surprised that Wade goes to such lengths to make his customers happy. And I’m also impressed at how large and streamlined his operation is. He has done a great job of setting up his company, and I realize I have a lot to learn from him, for my foundation.
The receptionist says, “I’ll let you get started,” but then he turns around to face me again before leaving.
“Would you like to put in a lunch order?” he asks me.
I look at him, surprised to be asked that question.
“What are the options?” I ask him, feeling stupid.
“You can order from anywhere. The company pays for it.”
I blink, and he must realize I’m at a loss for what to order.
“I’m ordering from Neil’s Deli myself today,” he suggests, helpfully. “They have a killer Albuquerque Turkey sandwich. With pepper jack cheese, avocado and green chile.”
“That sounds great,” I tell him.
“All right then, I’ll add your order to mine. Please let me know if there’s anything at all that you need,” he says. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”
My heart races, and I’m wondering if that means I won’t get to see Wade. I feel pathetic for wanting to see him so badly, so I try to concentrate on my work.
I click on the first email, bracing myself for complaints about the company or its product that I won’t know how to answer. I know I was instructed to just forward the email to Wade and let the customer know, but I will probably feel guilty if I can’t somehow make everything better.
Instead, the email that greets me is surprisingly enthusiastic.
Dear Covington Enterprises,
I would like to thank you for your Anxiety No More… for Kids app. It has helped my son Chad immensely. He went from having ADHD and other problems at school to reacting a lot better to stressful situations and adjusting to change a lot more easily. In response to your survey, the app is everything I could hope for and more, and I have no suggestions for changes.
Sincerely,
Marge Whitton,
A very happy customer.
A smile crosses my face as I click on the “Reply” button to write my response to Marge. How lovely that an app created by Wade’s company helped this family. I use the standard response, but add a personal note.
We here at Covington Enterprises strive to bring all the best from our family to yours.
It’s an odd personal note, and I’m not sure why I wrote it, considering that there is no “Covington family.” I guess I just feel like part of a “work family” already and I’m pleased to do this fulfilling work as my job. It’s a very different feeling that I had while I worked at my thankless job as a banquet server.
As I open the next emails, one by one, they all say similar things.
You helped me when I got back from war and had PTSD. The tools and tips saved my life.
My mother suffers from terrible anxiety but listening to your app’s hypnotherapy tracts calms and soothes her so that she is able to sleep.
My husband was an alcoholic but your Stop Drinking Now app has worked more wonders for him than all the group therapy meetings he has tried, combined. He now feels positive and energetic about taking his life back and staying off the booze.
Their heartfelt stories make me reconsider everything bad I had thought about Wade and his company and even people with money. Apparently, he’s made his money honestly, and by helping people. And he might have been a dick to me years ago, but something has certainly changed.
At some point the receptionist comes to check in on me as promised by I’m preoccupied by all the thankful survey responses.
He sets a turkey sandwich down beside me and says, “You know, you can take a lunch break.”
“Okay,” I tell him. Then, reminding myself to return to the land of the living, I add, “Thank you,” but he’s already leaving.
There are only two responses that can be construed slightly negatively. One says that they couldn’t get the app to download onto their phone. The other one has suggestions for new or improved apps, for things such as fibromyalgia, pain management and autoimmune diseases. Interesting. I write back to the customers as the receptionist instructed me and then I hit
the forward button that will send the emails to Wade.
First, I have a few bites of the turkey sandwich. It’s delicious, just as the receptionist promised. I fill out the job paperwork as requested. And then I return to the task at hand.
I feel nervous as I type, wondering if Wade will scrutinize my every word.
I’ve finished going through the customer survey response emails, I write. This and the email that follows are the only ones with any kind of negative feedback. I’ve let the customers know that I’ve forwarded their comments to you.
I hit send and then I forward the next email without comment. My heart flutters again, just like it’s been doing all day, but this time, even faster. Part of me wonders what to do now that I’ve finished this assignment. I suppose I should go see the receptionist and ask what’s next. Another part of me wonders if— and when— I’ll hear back from Wade.
I don’t have to wait long. There’s a near instant response. My palms sweat as I hover over his email with the mouse, and then click on it.
Very good, his email says. Thank you. Would you please come to my office now?
This time, I let my mouth hang open since no one is around to see it.
A personal summons to Wade’s office is the thing I want right now more than anything else. I need to apologize to him for dismissing him based on stereotypes I’d built in my head. And I have a feeling there are things he needs to do when it comes to me, as well.
Chapter 9 – Wade
There she is. Emily Mason. The only girl I have ever loved.
Loved.
For some reason— it must have been my talk with Jensen— I’m able to admit to myself now. I loved her. And I blew it. But I’m hoping she’ll forgive me. There must be some chance, if she’s here in my office, looking nervous and shy, but also almost giddy with happiness.
“I’m so glad you decided to work here,” I tell her, as soon as she walks in.
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