by Amy Marie
“Thank you. It means a lot that you understand.” She waves towards Damien across the room who nods. “Next round is on me.”
I smile but, suddenly, I feel the hairs on my neck stand up. My body zings with electricity, and I know. My body knows. My mind knows.
He’s here.
My eyes flash to the entrance, watching as the heavy, red door swings shut and several females seem to zone in on a man who commands attention. Casen Parker, fourth member of the PITCREW, and the hottest of them all, walks in, surrounded by his usual entourage of co-workers. I fidget in my seat, anticipation running deep within me. That man gives off the vibe as though he can tear a woman’s body in two like no other. His looks alone have the power to make any woman come on the spot. His black hair, short in the back and swooped over on the top, is long enough to roll your fingers though and grab onto. His eyes are a burning combination of green with a hint of blue. He takes great care of his body, going to the gym six days a week. His six pack abs and ass to die for prove it. His strong jaw holds perfect white teeth and dimples that you could take shots out of.
How do I know all of this? Because I’ve been watching him. I’ve seen him here for weeks, but it was well before that when I spotted him at my gym. It had been an odd nightly workout for me and apparently, for him, as well, since I haven’t seen him there since. He just so happened to take his shirt off as he walked into the locker room, and I got a glimpse of his upper body. From what I can tell, he hasn’t changed all that much. He seems nice to everyone around him, and if it wasn’t for his association with the crew, I’d almost feel bad for what I’m going to do to him.
Almost.
Our gazes collide, as they have multiple times over the last couple of weeks, and his lopsided smirk appears, rooting me to my seat. I’m startled as a balled up napkin is thrown in my face. I pluck it from my lap and toss it back at her. “What the hell, Trinity?”
She laughs. “I think you need to wipe up that drool from your mouth.”
I wave her off and look back over, but he’s gone as fast as he came. I know he is still here. I have an obstructed view of his regular table, close to the dart boards, but I can see brief sightings of the guys he came in with.
“So, what about money?” Trinity asks just as the waitress drops our drinks off.
I furrow my brows, turning my attention back to her. “What about it?”
“Well, you just lost your job,” she whispers it like she is telling me I have an STD. “I don’t want to abandon you. I could stay for another month, if you want.”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I have enough in my checking account to get me through. Plus, I have money in my savings.”
“Embyr,” she tilts her head to the side, “I feel bad. I don’t want you to have to pull from your savings.”
The music from the DJ gets louder, so I speak up. “I promise I will be fine. You’re the one who is going to get driven nuts!”
Her eyes roll. “You’re so right. I’m going to have to get some orgasmic release more often than I do now.”
I snicker. Trinity isn’t attached to anyone at the moment, but she does partake in a one night stand every so often. “You’re getting a hell of a lot more orgasms than I am. From someone besides yourself, that is.”
She eyes me in mock irritation with my comment before we both burst out laughing. I lift my glass up to take another drink until one fucking word burrows itself between my legs and raises my body temperature. “Ladies.”
Our amusement comes to an immediate halt as we both look up and find over six feet of pure, male, Godliness.
Casen.
This is the closest I have been to him in over ten years. I’m embarrassed at how my body reacts when he just walks into the bar, but I’m downright mortified how it feels when he is within a foot of me. Staring down at me. It’s how I felt anytime he would brush past me in the hall back in high school. My heart would beat out of its chest. My palms would begin to sweat, and the tingling between my legs would start. He was, and still is, a walking piece of art. But, he didn’t feel the same, and he allowed what happened to happen over and over again.
“Why hello there?” Trinity responds first. Her eyes dilated with lust, but he wouldn’t see that, because his focus is on me.
“May I help you?” I finally say; my first words to him in a decade.
His long fingers tap over the top of our table, and he grins. “I was wondering if I could buy you ladies a drink.” Casen and I stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, until his eyes slip up and notice my ample cleavage on display.
I lean over, breasts pushed up even more from resting on the table, and point to our almost full beverages. “We have some. Thank you, though.” Bringing my attention back to Trinity, I see her watching me in disbelief. I ignore her, trying to do the same to him, but he’s not moving.
“Listen,” he starts, but I keep my eyes shifted away. “I’m not dick. I just think you’re beautiful. I’ve seen you in here a couple of times, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
Trinity kicks me under the table, and I look back up at him. His eyes are scorching deep within me. I shake my head slightly trying to release myself from the pull. “I’m sorry. I’m just not interested right now, but thank you.”
His face morphs into something I’ve never seen before. It’s the face of a man who isn’t used to getting turned down. It’s shocked defeat, and it leads me to believe he thought I was a foregone conclusion. It angers me. When I don’t give him another glance he walks off.
“Embyr, you have to be fucking high,” Trinity admonishes.
I spin the straw inside of my drink. “He just isn’t my type, Trin.”
“He has a fucking tongue, Em. And a huge dick from the looks of his hands. You were the one who said you needed some more orgasms in your life.” She throws her hands up in the air. “Ride his goddamn face!”
I choke on my drink, shocked by her comment, and it spills onto my skirt. “Dammit. I’ll be right back.” Getting up from the booth, leaving a chuckling soon to be ex-roommate at the table, I head for the bathrooms, keeping myself from looking towards Casen and his buddies. I wonder if he told them he struck out. I almost second guess brushing him off. I’ve worked hard for the past month to get him to notice and approach me and to just send him away seems ludicrous. But, he won’t let this go. I guarantee that.
He’ll be back.
I lock myself in the only single bathroom in the place and walk over to the mirror. I fix a smudged line of eye liner, roll my shoulders back so I’m standing up straight, and really take a look at myself.
Maybe if I would have been this confident in high school, this strong, this steel, then they would have left me the hell alone. For years, I’ve run things over in my head, trying to figure out how I could have done something differently. Maybe if I wouldn’t have gone out with Ian then it wouldn’t have happened. Who am I kidding, though? If Ian struck out with me, eventually it would have been Casen who asked, and I know I wouldn’t have passed up at that opportunity.
A light rapping at the door jostles me back to the here and now. “Someone is in here!” I call out. More obnoxious knocking that can only belong to Trinity. “Sorry, Trin.” I yell. “No matter how many self-inflicted orgasms I give myself, I am not riding that man’s face.” I laugh all the way to the door, swinging it open only to find the face of the man I would, for sure, like to giddy up on.
My nerves of steel falter when he bits his bottom lip and traps me just inside the door. “Which man are we talking about?” Casen asks.
I could push him away. I could ask him to move, but I’m going to use this to my advantage. Tilting my head to the side and resting my shoulder into the doorframe, I answer, “Why you, of course.”
“Me?” he asks with a low rumble.
I lift my hand up and glide a finger down the middle of his chest, his eyes following. It’s the first time I have ever touched him, and I’m tryin
g so hard not to think too much into it. “You. But, again, I would rather just take care of myself.”
Casen licks his lips just before meeting my gaze. “That doesn’t sound like so much fun, unless of course, I can watch.”
My body reacts. My nipples harden and I grow wet between my thighs with just the image of him watching me pleasure myself. I’ve obviously gone far too long without being satisfied the right way by a man.
“Hmm, your body language is telling me you would, in fact, like that to happen,” he lustfully whispers. “What’s your name?”
“I have to go.” Before this gets any more sexual than it already has, I move between him and the door, excusing myself, making sure I touch as little of him as possible. I walk away, knowing that even if his ego was bruised from my brush off, he definitely is still interested. When I get back to the table, Trinity is finishing up her second Corona.
“I’m ready to head out,” I tell her, not wanting to give Casen another opportunity to talk to me. I need to regroup before I see him again. I’ll be back next week, and I’m sure he will be too. And then maybe—just maybe—he will get my name.
Grabbing the lint roller, I try to snatch up every single piece of white cotton off of my black skirt. It’s a bit longer than I’m used to wearing during the work week, but I’m interviewing for a new job today. A job that wearing a shorter skirt won’t give me any sort of advantage.
My fingers lace the buttons through my gray business jacket, and I take one last look in the mirror by my door before grabbing my purse to throw over my shoulder. I quietly shut the door so I don’t wake Trinity up since she doesn’t have to go into the studio until eleven.
The weather is mild for the season and the streets aren’t as busy as they normally are for a Tuesday morning. Usually the hustle and bustle has you clutching your purse and trying not to swear at each and every moron running late. By the time I reach Morrison and Associates, I have fifteen minutes to finish my coffee, use the bathroom, and wash my hands. As the elevator ascends to the tenth floor of the building, I adjust myself one last time before the mirrored doors open and I am greeted by a large, marble desk and a very attractive, brown-haired, blue-eyed, male, fielding a phone call.
“I’m sorry, but he is in a meeting. I’m going to have to have him call you back.” He looks up at me, giving me the universal signal for “just one moment,” and finishes up the call. “Okay, great. Have a nice day.” He replaces the phone in its cradle before grabbing his bottle of water and taking a sip. “I am so sorry about that,” he says, placing the bottle onto the desk. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” I answer, reaching into my purse and pulling out my resume. “I’m here to see Mr. Morrison.”
Taking the paper, he reads it over and smiles. “Ms. Quinn. We’ve been expecting you. I will let him know you are here. Just go ahead and have a seat.” He points to an area to the left. “I’m Jacob. Let me know if you need anything.”
I take my place on the deep, red couches and straighten my posture, my right leg crossing over my left. Nerves begin to build inside of me as I go over it in my head what I’m attempting to do here. What I am trying to catch. After declining some water and watching another eight minutes go, by I am finally called back by Jacob. “Ms. Quinn, follow me, please,” he requests.
I stand up and trail behind him down the long hallway, past another desk that is empty, to an office just a door before the last one. “Mr. Morrison.” Jacob knocks on the open door. “This is Ms. Embyr Quinn. She is here for the interview.”
I walk past Jacob, into the office, and stand before, what I hope is, my soon to be boss. “Thanks, Jake.” He smiles at his secretary for a second longer than necessary. “Ms. Quinn. Have a seat.”
Keeping my eyes on him, I stare as he smiles again at Jacob—a look crossing between the two of them—and watches as he closes the door behind us.
I smirk.
He walks towards me, and his presence alone is intimidating even though he looks to be just less than six feet tall. You can tell he takes good care of himself at the gym, and visits an esthetician for his eyebrows on a regular basis. His dark hair is styled perfectly. “Good morning, Ms. Quinn,” he acknowledges me, extending his perfectly manicured hand. I take it and firmly shake. This man is more high maintenance than I am.
“Good morning, Mr. Morrison.” I flash him a smile. “Please, call me Embyr.”
He nods. “Okay, then. Feel free to call me Thad.”
I smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Thad.”
Again.
Ten years later.
“Please, have a seat.” He extends his hand towards another comfortable red chair. His office is as pristine looking as he is. I take a seat, adjusting my posture so my tits press further out, but that doesn’t matter to him. He’s married. No kids, of course, and is in the process of one of the biggest cases that Chicago has ever seen. Well, the one taking up most of the recent headlines.
Thad Morrison is representing Lauren Crest. A newly divorced woman who wants sole custody of her kids from her ex-husband who decided he wanted to switch teams. Eric, her ex, and his male lover (also Erik, but spelled differently), are seeking shared custody. Thad has been very vocal about his stance that it would only confuse the couple’s sons if they were to go live half of their time with two fathers.
I personally think that with kids involved, both parents should have equal time with them. It’s not like he is abusive or an alcoholic. From what I have read, Eric has a great job, a nice home, and offering to pay child support and alimony. But, both sides of the debate have been heated since Thad took the case on, and the newspapers got a hold of it.
“I have to say; I’m a bit confused,” he tells me, looking down at my resume.
I shift, crossing one leg over the other. “How so?”
“Well, first of all, taking a receptionist job up front with Jacob would mean a major pay cut from your last job.”
I wait for it. The moment he mentions my ex-boss Patrick’s name. I mentally prepared myself for the questions he would ask, should it come up, but he says nothing.
I know those two haven’t spoken in some time. When Patrick would request the paper and Thad’s case was front page news, again, Patrick would make snarky comments about how Thad says one thing but contradicts himself and his stance in his personal life. How he was thankful to have lost contact with Thad a long time ago because he creeped Patrick out. Through numerous snide remarks Patrick made, it was easy to put two and two together.
“Well, I love what I do. Some may hate answering phones and scheduling appointments, but I thrive on it. I’m an organizer.” I smile his way. “I know if I got this job that I would make ten thousand less a year, but after seeing the most recent case you have been working on, and knowing that I fully side with your position, I couldn’t help but submit my resume.” I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. Lies. I don’t agree with him. At some point, you have to let the bullshit go. Let people live their lives. Just because he loves another man; it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his children. Thad would know that, if he ever caught interest in his wife and made a child with her.
Back in high school, Thad had asked me out, but it was the year before the bet, and I figured it was because his parents made him ask me. It was to homecoming, and I didn’t have a date. His mother worked with mine, so I’m sure that had something to do with it. To say it was awkward is an understatement. He didn’t touch me—not once. Didn’t dance with me, and only hung out with some guy from the soccer team the entire night.
I’ll give him credit, though, like Casen, he never asked me out for the bet, but he never prevented it from happening. From any of it happening. He never thought to tell them what they were doing was wrong.
The interview goes well, and I hope to get the job. It would be a lot easier on me to be able to see, firsthand, if what Patrick was hinting at is true.
I stand up, Thad shaking my hand, and freeze when his eyes d
on’t leave mine. They stare into me like they recognize something. This is another thing I have prepared myself for: being found out. It would suck, to say the least, but again, I’m not doing anything except bringing attention to what they are hiding.
Is that wrong? Maybe.
Do I fucking care? Not one bit.
He walks me to the door and points me to the far end of the hallway when I ask to use the bathroom. “There is an exit down that way,” he tells me. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Quinn. We’ll be in touch.”
When I’ve finish, I decide to suck up to Jacob, and thank him for his help. Halfway back to the front desk, I stop short as soon as I hear heavy breathing and hushed voices behind a semi closed door. “Oh, you have to stop. I need to get back to work,” the masculine voice pleads. My eyes look through the slit in the doorway and go wide at the vision before me. My cheeks rise in a large smile when I find what might have taken me weeks to capture if I was hired here. I pull my phone out and hit video to record.
“I’m the boss,” Thad responds. “And, we’re taking a fifteen minute break before the next interview.”
Through the screen on my phone I watch as Thad unbuttons Jacob’s shirt, pushing it down off of his body. His tongue darts out, leaving a trail from Jacob’s neck to his shoulder, and I have to cover my mouth before I squeal with joy.
I fucking knew it.
Jacob reaches inside Thad’s still buckled pants and drags his hands up and down his boss’s length. Thad moans and commands Jacob to his knees.
That’s all I need. I stop recording and back away slowly as to not make a noise. For a married man who is so against gay people and their right to their own children, he sure looked like he was about to enjoy the benefits of having Jacob’s mouth wrap around his cock.
I hit the elevator button three times in my excitement. I guess I don’t need this job anymore. Once inside the elevator, I pull up the email address of the Chicago Tribune and log into my secure email, sending the short fifteen second video to their site. I give it an hour before it goes viral.
