by Whitney G.
“What were you doing, Tara?” I repeated. “Stop bullshitting me.”
“I was doing what I usually do whenever it’s late at night, and I’m thinking about my boss.”
“I’m not playing the guessing game with you.”
“I was masturbating with my vibrator, okay?” She scoffed. “Is that okay with you?”
I held back a laugh. “It’s more than okay.” I stood up and walked to my liquor cabinet, pouring myself two shots of whiskey. “What was your fantasy for tonight?”
“It’s the usual.” Her voice was soft. “Nothing special.”
“Tell me.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
She remained silent, and I tossed back the first drink.
“What’s the usual, Tara?”
She cleared her throat, still not saying anything, and I was certain I heard the light buzzing of her vibrator in the background.
“Do I need to repeat the question?”
“No...It usually starts with us arguing and then we end up having sex on your desk.”
“I need you to describe it better than that,” I said. “Am I bending you over the desk or fucking you on top of it?”
She sucked in a breath. “On top of it.”
“You know that doesn’t have to remain a fantasy, right?”
“Right...” Her vibrator sounded a little bit louder.
“We’ll have to make a few changes, though.” I tossed back the second shot.
“Changes like what?”
“Well, first I’ll need you to sit on my face for at least an hour so I can taste everything I love about your pussy again, so I can make sure you’ll follow the rest of my instructions for the remainder of the day.”
Her breathing became slightly heavier over the line.
“After that, I’ll bend you over my chair and fill you with my cock until you’re on the verge of coming for me. And when I’m sure you’re close to the edge—when I’m sure your pussy is seconds away from an orgasm, I’ll flip you over and fuck you on top of the desk until you beg me to let you come.” I paused. “Only if that’s what you want...”
Her breaths sounded even louder than before, and I could hear her softly murmuring.
“Is that what you want?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll do it the second you get back from Europe.”
“Um hmmm....” She let out a soft moan. “Okay.”
I waited until her breathing became normal again. “I think we should talk on the phone without work more often.” I smiled.
“I would like that.”
“I also think that you shouldn’t come to work for the rest of this week.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I said. “Your trip starts in two days, and if I see you this morning, I won’t let you out of my office.”
“You don’t want me to come in and at least show you my mock presentations?”
“You’ve never needed to practice those,” I said. “Yours were always perfect.”
“Thanks for finally letting me know that once I’m quitting.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“You were about to.”
She laughed. “So, since I’m off today, does that mean you won’t send me any emails?”
“Absolutely not. It just means you don’t have to answer them as fast.”
“Noted. Well, I’m going to take a shower. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Talk to you later.” I ended the call and sat on my couch. For some strange reason, I was tempted to call her right back, to find something random to discuss for a few more hours.
As I was contemplating it, her name crossed my screen via text message.
Tara: Are you still planning to start your day at 4:30 a.m.?
Me: Yes.
Tara: Mind if I call you while you’re riding around looking at all your hotels? [water emoji] [water emoji] [water emoji]
Me: Not at all. [umbrella emoji] [umbrella emoji] [umbrella emoji]
I laughed and set my phone down.
As I was setting aside my shot glasses, I heard the sound of pattering feet in my hallway.
Dragging a blanket and clutching her teddy bear, she climbed right next to me on the couch. She picked up my juice box and shook it—frowning once she realized it was empty.
“These are me and Bear’s juices.” She narrowed her little eyes at me. “Not yours.”
I smiled, holding back a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She lay down on the cushions and placed Bear next to me. Then she told me to go to sleep, too.
“Goodnight, Uncle Preston,” she said.
“Goodnight, Violet.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Tara
“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” AVA’S voice crackled over our Skype connection. “Hello? Hello?”
“I can hear you.” I plugged in my headphones and looked outside the plane’s windows.
“You never called me back after the gala,” she said, her face appearing on my laptop screen. “What did your boss say when you left him there alone? And please tell me you haven’t shown up to work this week at all.”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “We kind of um—”
“You kind of um, what?”
“We had sex in the bathroom, and then again in his car, and we’ve had sex in his office a few times since.” I paused. “Are you judging me?”
“No, I’m grabbing the popcorn.” She laughed. “I haven’t been laid in a while, so I need you to back up and give me every explicit detail. After you give me all that, then I’ll judge you.”
I smiled and slid under my blanket, replaying every moment me and Preston shared over the past few days—even the new late-night phone calls that were devoid of any work. I felt myself blushing with every word, secretly looking forward to seeing him again at the end of my trip.
“Wow.” Ava fanned herself. “I think I need to go and change my panties when I get off the phone.”
I laughed.
“Feel free to enjoy all the sex with him you want, but do me one favor,” she said, looking right at me. “Don’t let the sex distract you from the fact that he’s still a terrible boss, made you agree to a six-week quitting term instead of two, and honestly still thinks that he’s done as much for you as you have for him over the past two years.”
“I won’t forget.”
“And don’t you dare get attached to his little girl either.”
“She’s his niece.”
“You know what I mean.” She shook her head. “I know how you are when it comes to sexy single guys with kids.”
“I’m not getting attached to Violet.” I rolled over and put away the teddy bear clothes I’d purchased in Scotland. “Trust me. How’s Fashion Week in Paris?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” She gushed about designers and runway shows for over an hour, and just as she was about to tell me about how awful her new boss was, he called her phone.
“It’s my boss.” She rolled her eyes. “Gotta go.”
“Talk to you later.” I closed my laptop and moved to the plane’s living room—running my finger against the intricately carved “P” in all the wood furnishings. I picked up my notes for the next meeting and plopped onto the couch.
“Good evening, Miss Lauren.” A flight attendant I’d never traveled with before walked into the cabin. “Would you like dinner this evening?”
“Yes. Can I have some of the gluten-free pasta and the coastal salad? If not, can I see the updated gluten-free menu for today?”
“The what?”
“The gluten-free menu,” I said. “If it’s still the same as it was last time, I’ll just have the regular course dinner.”
She looked at me in confusion. “Um. I’ll have to see what we have.”
Seconds later, she returned with a plain salad and a bowl of sliced apples. “I’m sorry, Miss Lauren
. We don’t have any of what you mentioned onboard. My coworker says we’ve never had that on any of our flights, but this is our first time flying with Parker International, so I’ll make sure we have it next time.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent,” she said. “We do have a basket of chocolate with your name on it, but Mr. Parker’s note says to give it to you in a few days.” She smiled and walked away, leaving me confused.
Before I could follow her and show her exactly where the menus and the gluten-free dinners were, my town car driver stepped in front of me.
“Did you eat all the gluten-free meals, Will?” I smiled. “You could’ve at least shared them with me.”
“Not at all, Miss Lauren,” he said, looking slightly terrified. “It’s my fault they’re not onboard today, and I’m sorry.”
“How is it your fault? It’s probably just a catering mix-up.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Mr. Parker always orders food from Other Words Catering Kitchen before any flight you take. My job is to pick it up an hour before takeoff and load it, but since we were running behind schedule, I didn’t have time to make the handoff with the caterer.”
I stilled. There were only five Other Words Catering Kitchen locations in the country, and none of them were anywhere near New York.”
“He has it flown in from the West Coast?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Every time?”
“Every single time.” He nodded, and I leaned back.
“Please don’t tell him about my mistake,” he said. “He’d be very upset if he knew.”
“I won’t.” I rubbed my forehead, completely stunned.
“I did make sure that all of the top shop owners are aware that you’ll be in town, just like Mr. Parker always does, and they’ll shut down the store for you the second you arrive.”
“I never knew Mr. Parker called beforehand.” I shook my head. It never crossed my mind that the stores were almost always empty when I shopped abroad.
I’m not done listing all the things I’ve done for you.
Preston’s words from our argument played in my mind, and I cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something, Will?”
“Of course.”
“Why does Mr. Parker always give his executive employees those random chocolate baskets? I’m not complaining, but is that a catering thing as well?”
“He doesn’t give all of his executive employees anything.” He smiled. “He only does that for you.”
“As a peace offering?”
“No,” he said, tilting his head to the side. Then as if he was embarrassed to say the words, he lowered his voice. “I remember him telling me that it helps with your stress during a certain um...time of the month.”
My jaw dropped, and I paled. I’d always been far too stressed in general to notice the timing, thinking that the monthly chocolate was another standard “amenity treat” for C-level executives, since the chocolates were hardly ever the same.
“Will?” I looked at him.
“Yes?”
“Can you tell me some of the other little things Mr. Parker does for his executive assistants?”
“Besides firing them or making them quit?” He laughed. “I have no idea.”
“No, I mean, what are the things he usually gives to the person in this position? Like, private transportation to business meetings and work, but what else?”
He raised his eyebrow. “Mr. Parker usually flew his EA via first class on a commercial flight since he never knew if they would quit in the middle of the trip.” He shrugged. “You’re the first to fly on his private plane. And you know, now that I think about it, his EAs never received their own office, let alone a corner one. They usually got a bigger desk in a room they shared with the senior interns. Oh, and it took years of me working for him before he started giving me any perks.” He laughed.
“So, it’s safe to assume that my monthly condo discount and passes to Broadway shows and such isn’t the norm?”
“Not at all, Miss Lauren.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to me, showing me an email from Preston. One that was dated over a year ago. “You never saw this, by the way. Let me know when you’re done reading it. It may take a while.” He winked at me and walked away.
SUBJECT: MISS TARA Lauren (Please Confirm You’ve Read This)
Dear Support Staff,
I’m sending you this message since you all have daily, direct, or consistent access to my latest assistant, Tara Lauren.
As you know, as of now, she’s lasted longer than any executive assistant I’ve ever had, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Her job is stressful enough, so I’m including a list of all the things that need to be done on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis to ensure that she never gets stressed about anything else....
I need every single one of these tasks to be followed to the letter. Or else.
I’m attaching the list.
Preston Parker,
CEO & Owner of Parker International
I OPENED THE FILE AND noticed that it was eight pages long. It included everything from the way I liked my breakfast and lunch, to the best hours to handle my dry cleaning and repair my heels, to making sure if I ever uttered the words, “I need to buy that,” that they bought it and kept it on hand just in case I mentioned it again. It also revealed that there was a concierge in my condo who was personally assigned to me. That all the times he told me I looked stressed and insisted that I attend “a complimentary group dinner on the roof with the city’s next hot chef,” it was never really for the group. It was always just for me.
By the time I reached the end of the list, Will reappeared.
“Did that answer your question, Miss Lauren?”
“Yes.” I nodded, my mind completely blown.
“Great. Would you like to see the updated lists he sent to us when you reached the one and two- year marks, or no?”
TWENTY-SIX
Preston
SUBJECT: TODAY’S MEETING with the London Reps + My Replacement (Interviews?)
Just letting you know that today’s round of meetings went well. (You’re welcome)
I’m attaching my notes for you to review.
Any luck with the interviews so far today?
Tara Lauren
Executive Assistant to Preston Parker,
CEO of Parker International
[londonmeetingnotes.pdf]
SUBJECT: RE: TODAY’S meeting with the London Reps + My Replacement (Interviews?)
So, I’ve heard. (Thank you) I would prefer that you attach a picture.
Preston Parker
CEO & Owner of Parker International
SUBJECT: RE: RE: TODAY’S meeting with the London Reps + My Replacement (Interviews?)
If you want a picture, I need you to be a little more specific... [smile]
Tara Lauren
Executive Assistant to Preston Parker,
CEO of Parker International
BEFORE I COULD TELL her exactly what I wanted, George walked into my office.
“Alright,” he said. “We’ve got an interview with a former NYU director in an hour, a pre-background interview check for another person who claims he worked at Toys R’ Us, and—” He stopped talking once he spotted Violet playing on my floor.
She looked up from her coloring book and smiled at him. “Do you want to play?”
He stepped back. “Preston, what is that?”
“It looks like a child, George. A she.”
“You know what I mean.” He blinked. “Please don’t say that you need me to handle a paternity lawsuit, because from the looks of things, she’s definitely yours and you’ll definitely lose.”
I smiled. “She’s my niece, George. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”
His expression shifted from panicked to sympathetic. “Does she call you Uncle Preston?”
“Yes,” she answered for me. “He lives in my be
ar.”
I gave him an “I have no idea what she’s talking about” look, and glanced at Bear who was currently sitting on my desk and “eating” her carrots.
“We can reschedule the interviews,” George said, sitting on the floor next to Violet. “They’re not that important.”
“I’m pretty sure they are. I only have a little under a month to replace Tara.”
“Well, that’s the great thing about hiring an assistant like Miss Lauren.” He picked up a crayon. “She did her job so efficiently that you have a pretty decent cushion to find the right person. Besides, family comes first, and if you want to earn back your soul, it’s about time you learned that.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Tara
“WELCOME HOME, MISS Lauren.” The flight attendant smiled when we returned to New York late at night. She handed me the leftovers of my chocolate basket, and a greeter carried my bags to a waiting town car.
Will slipped behind the wheel, and his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Good to be back home again. Am I taking you to your primary condo tonight, Miss Lauren?”
“Where else would I be going at this hour?”
“Nowhere.” He smiled. “I was just asking.”
He pulled onto the road, and I waited a few minutes to contact Preston. I didn’t want to believe it, but I’d missed him during my trip. Even though we’d talked every night and he’d sent me messages that made me wet, I still wished he was there with me.
I really do want to see him tonight...
I made it ten minutes before I gave in and saw that he’d already sent me a message.
Preston: Have you landed yet?”
Me: Yes.
Preston: When do you plan to debrief me on all the meetings personally? I’ve read your notes, but I’m missing the projections.
Me: I can do it tonight if you need me to.
Preston: I do. I’m at my condo. Take the interior elevator.
“Will, can you take me to Mr. Parker’s Manhattan residence instead?”
“Of course, Miss Lauren.”
