by Sky Corgan
“Alright, Jack.” A warm tingling swirled in the pit of my stomach from using his name. How many people were allowed to call Jack Kemble casually by his first name? It sounded alien to me—almost like I was doing something wrong by saying it.
“So, tell me about your living arrangements. You said that you were worried about losing your apartment.”
I explained my relationship with Mandy, how she had gone to bat for me every time her father had told her to kick me out. Mandy would be thrilled to know Jack asked about her, so I tried to paint her in the best light possible. Not like there was any other light to paint her in. She had been my savior for the past two years, and she deserved all the praise I could give.
“She sounds like an outstanding young woman,” he said.
“She really is.”
“Perhaps you'll introduce us sometime.”
“I think she'd like that.” I smiled, wondering if it would even realistically be a possibility. Mandy would go crazy if she ever got to meet Jack Kemble. It was amusing to imagine the excitement on her face. Of course, even that I was probably over playing. Mandy would be reserved enough to keep poised, I was sure. But inside, she'd be screaming like a school girl.
We drained our drinks and ordered another round. The more I drank, the less awkward I felt around Jack. He really wasn't that bad once you got him alone, like any other normal person. Maybe if I drank enough, I could even pretend he wasn't my boss.
“So why isn't there a Mrs. Kemble?” I asked, the alcohol making me braver than normal.
Jack's face darkened, and I knew I had struck a chord. “There was going to be . . . but she left me for another man.”
“Ouch. Sorry I asked.” I winced sympathetically.
“It's fine. As you've probably heard, I'm not really the marriage type anyway.” He brushed it off.
“I have heard some things.” I smirked.
“Oh, have you now?” He looked at me, his interest piqued. The room suddenly became hot. Of course Jack would be curious after I said something like that. “So what have you heard?”
“I'd rather not say.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I'm not sure if you'd consider it bad or not?”
“Well, I won't know until you tell me.”
I hesitated. “I've just heard that you're a bit of a playboy.”
He guffawed. “Who hasn't heard that about me? I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't know.” He took a long sip of martini, grinning all the while. “You know, I never actually wanted to marry. My engagement was set up for me a long time ago. I'm kind of glad it didn't work out.”
“Well, if it wouldn't have made you happy, then I'm glad it didn't work out too.”
“What about you? I haven't seen a ring on your finger, so I'm assuming there's no Mister Strayer lurking about.”
“No.” My stomach rolled in a ball of nerves. I didn't really feel like talking about my romantic relationships, or lack there of.
“No boyfriend either?” Came the next predictable question.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm a lesbian.” It was the only thing I could think of that would kill any possibility Jack would hit on me.
“A lipstick lesbian.” He observed. “I like lesbians.”
“Most men do.” Now things were getting awkward. Why had I said that? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“So, no girlfriend then?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I'm not really looking for a relationship?”
“Then you're a playboy too . . . or playgirl?” Jack scrunched up his face in thought, looking absolutely adorable. It was obvious the alcohol was beginning to kick in.
“Nope. I'm big into relationships, being monogamous and all. I'm just not interested in one right now. My life is too unstable.”
“Perhaps when you've settled down then?”
“Perhaps.”
“I can drink to that.” He sloppily raised his glass to clink it against my beer, and I couldn't help but giggle.
“So, what about you? You don't ever want to get married?”
“Lord no. Not until I'm old and my looks start to fade. We're young. We should live like we are. There are too many beautiful women out there to settle down with just one.”
“There are many beautiful women out there,” I agreed. “But finding that one is like finding the diamond in the rough. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. Truly compatible people are a rarity, like finding a hundred-dollar bill when you're walking down the street. You need to grab the opportunity and never let it go.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I can't tell if you're trying to sound like a romantic, or if you're comparing finding the perfect person to stealing. If you find money on the street, it might belong to someone nearby who accidentally dropped it.”
“It might. And if it does and that person comes back to it, then it was never yours in the first place. Even hundred-dollar bills belonged to someone else first. But if no one claims it, then I see nothing wrong with taking it.”
“This conversation is getting a bit convoluted. And love isn't one of my favorite subjects, to be frank.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“I don't know. I don't think so. My life has always been lived in the fast lane. There was never really any time to delve into relationships that deeply. Sure, there were some women I preferred over others, but I wouldn't call it love.”
“What about your fiance?”
“We didn't spend a whole lot of time together either, but that's a story I don't really feel like getting into.”
“Apologies for asking you so many things that make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It's fine. Let's just move on from the subject. I tried to once already, but you drug us back into it.”
“Alright, something else then,” I said, though I couldn't think of anything to talk about of interest or that wouldn't offend him or bore me. Apparently, Jack couldn't come up with a subject either, and after a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence, we both finished our drinks, and he suggested we leave.
When we got back to Syngex, he insisted on calling me a cab. I hadn't had that many drinks, but I knew Jack wouldn't let me refuse his offer. Safety first and all. While we waited for the cab to arrive, we transferred all the shopping bags from his car to mine. They filled up the entire trunk and even spilled over into the backseat. Jack assured me they'd be safe locked away in my car in the parking garage. As we were transferring them over, he picked an outfit for me to wear the following day and put it in a separate bag that I was required to take home. The friendliness between us had faded. Jekyll had turned to Hyde, and Jack was my boss again.
In the morning, Mandy asked where I had gotten the new outfit from, knowing I had no money of my own. When I told her that Jack had bought it for me, she gave me accusing eyes.
“I didn't sleep with him,” I insisted, but I knew she didn't believe me.
If I had more time, I would have told Mandy about how Jack had said he was interested in meeting her, but I was already running late, and I still had to call a taxi to take me to work since I had left my car there. It was a mad dash to get to my desk on time, and then I was being sent back downstairs again for Jack's coffee. This was my least favorite part of the job, but I'd do it with a smile because of everything Jack had done for me, including paying for the taxi to bring me back to work.
The week trudged on, and I was finally beginning to settle into my job. While the blondes still hadn't accepted me, they seemed to be getting used to my presence. Ulga complimented my outfit, asking where I had bought it from. I gave her the name of the store, but made sure to exclude that Jack had paid for it.
The month flew by, and I was thankfully able to fork over for my half of the rent, as promised, though it consumed nearly my entire paycheck. It was depressing to have money one minute and then have it gone the next, but there was noth
ing I could do about it. I owned Mandy so much more than that. Working and being poor was something I'd have to get used to for a while.
Time passed, and it seemed like things were finally going to work out for me. Despite Mandy's warning, Jack never approached me for sex. I could only assume he was respecting my lesbian proclamation. The other girls could have been named Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on though. It seemed like he went out with a different one every night of the week. While I rarely saw them leave the office together, I always heard the stories the next morning. From what I gathered, Jack Kemble was good in bed, and kinky to boot. Some of the things the girls talked about made me face flush with embarrassment. Tales of Jack's dungeon circulated around to the point I could picture the layout perfectly in my mind. One thing I noticed though was that sex never took place outside of the dungeon. Lovemaking did not seem to be in Jack Kemble's vocabulary.
For all the talk, none of it really mattered to me. I had no interest in seeing Jack's dungeon of pain and pleasure. Having sex with my boss would only complicate things, making it awkward to the point I'd want to quit. It wasn't worth losing my job over. Besides, I wasn't interested in being a notch of Jack's endlessly long bedpost. Despite initially regretting telling him I was a lesbian, I now realized it had probably been the right thing to do. There was no pressure for sex, and the pursuit of me was over. Aside from asking me to perform various job duties, Jack pretty much left me alone.
After my first month at Syngex, I began attending business conventions with Jack. He usually just brought me to take notes, though sometimes I'd also help prepare him for speeches, listening to him recite them in the limo on the way to the venue. When we were together in public, I felt important, though my presence was rarely acknowledged. I was the shadow in his background scene, seeing and reporting on what he couldn't—a second set of eyes and ears.
Eventually, Jack began taking me on business trips as well. The first few times flying were a nightmare. I had always hated planes—had an irrational fear of them. The turbulence during take off rattled my nerves, but Jack sat beside me, placing a hand on my arm and telling me everything would be alright. He could be such a good guy at times, so kind and gentle.
It seemed Jack divided his time between business and charity, and he took a very hands-on approach to both. A tornado had ripped through Oklahoma, uprooting hundreds of homes and devastating the land. Syngex was one of the first companies on the scene to provide assistance. He even flew in a handful of employees, rolling his sleeves up and getting right in there with the rest to clear the neighborhoods of debris and help the residents piece their shattered lives back together.
At the end of the day, we were all exhausted. Jack treated us to an afternoon at the hotel spa, a reward for the good deed we had done, though nothing was more satisfying than the feeling from the act itself. When Jack and I returned to our joint room for the evening, I found he had rented a suite with a hot tub. I felt apprehensive about getting into it with him, but eventually I caved.
“Damn, I'm beat,” he commented as he settled into the water, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
I kept a shower robe on while I poured us each a glass of champagne, trying to avoid letting Jack see me in a bikini, though I was a bit curious about how he'd react. While I had gotten to the point where I trusted him, there was still a large part of me that knew he was a man. When we were alone like this, sharing a two-bedroom suite, was when I felt the most vulnerable.
From what I had heard from the girls in the office, Jack was very sexually aggressive. I didn't want to give him any ideas that he could be that way with me, so I took care in making sure I was fully dressed until right before bed, and I locked my door at night, in case he got any sexual inclinations. On the rare nights when we stayed at suites that didn't have separate bedrooms, I made sure to wear the most unflattering set of pajamas I could find.
This was the first time I'd ever be nearly fully exposed to Jack. In truth, if I wanted to be even more cautious, I could have bought a one-piece with a cover shirt and some swim trunks, but I was tired of hiding. Besides, he seemed harmless enough on all of our other trips.
After setting Jack's champagne flute in the cup holder beside him and pouring myself a glass, I shrugged off my robe and slipped into the water, watching his eyes all the while. Jack kept them closed, which afforded me the opportunity to ogle him. So this is what Jack Kemble looks like shirtless, I thought, trailing my eyes across his defined shoulders and then down his tight chest into the bubbling water. I was sure whatever was below the water was just as perfect as what was above, though I couldn't see very well thanks to the jets being on.
It wasn't until I settled that Jack opened his eyes, looking over at me through the steam. “This is nice.”
“Mhm,” I replied absentmindedly, taking a swig of champagne. It was a bit too sweet for my liking, but the coolness of it felt good on my tongue, despite the tingling bubbles.
“Doing stuff like this makes me feel good.”
I wasn't sure if he meant helping people or being in the hot tub, but I answered anyway, “Me too.”
As Jack sat up to reach over for his champagne flute, his eyes landed on my cleavage. “Nice swimsuit,” he commented.
“Thanks.” I didn't know what else to say.
“How are you at giving back massages?”
“You had one already.” I smirked.
“I know, but I want another one.”
“Spoiled,” I huffed at him, setting down my champagne to move to his side of the hot tub. We had some issues with Jack repositioning himself between my legs, and I giggled as he landed on my lap. “You want me to hold you like a baby now too?”
“No. The jets make it hard to move,” Jack laughed.
“Then maybe we should turn them off.”
“As you wish.” He leaned over to push in the button that controlled the jets, allowing the water to go still. Afterward, he settled more easily between my legs.
My hands reached up for Jack's shoulders, pressing my fingers into hard muscle. “I'm not very good at this,” I confessed, trying to kneed out the knots as best I could.
“I'm sure you'll do fine. None of your girlfriends ever wanted massages?”
“They wanted them, but after the first one, they never asked again. Like I said, I suck at it.”
“It feels good to me.” His flesh was taut beneath my fingers, making my effort feel even less effective. It apparently didn't feel that good, because after a few minutes, Jack said, “Here, let me show you how.”
We switched positions, though I was a bit reluctant about it. As soon as his fingertips pressed into my shoulder, all apprehension faded away. Jack was every bit as good at giving massages as the girl in the spa had been, and I found myself almost moaning from his touch.
“Feels good?” he asked.
“Yes, don't stop.”
A short laugh escaped Jack's lips as his hands skillfully moved to work on my neck before dipping down to massage my back. I was half asleep when he spoke again. “Have you ever thought of going blonde?”
My body stiffened at the question. “No. Have you?”
“I don't think I'd look good blonde.”
“I don't think I'd look good blonde either.”
“Well, I think you would.”
I gave him a sardonic glance over my shoulder. “Are you asking me to dye my hair?”
“It's just a suggestion. I prefer blondes.”
“I noticed. You seem to forget I don't care what you prefer though.”
“Ouch. You're so mean,” Jack feigned offense, and then countered my rudeness by tickling my ribs.
I flailed, sinking into the water in my attempt to get away. My foot slipped, and my head went under. When I emerged completely soaked, he was laughing at me, which only worked to piss me off. “That's not funny, asshole,” I turned and blurted, forgetting my manners.
“Oh, it isn't, is it?” he asked, completely ignoring
my bad mood. Jack lunged at me again, easily gripping me around the waist and tickling me relentlessly.
“Stop,” I cried out between giggles before my knee accidentally slid up between his legs.
He fell back on his side of the hot tub, hissing in pain. For a moment, I thought to be concerned . . . or embarrassed. I couldn't tell which one.
“I'm so sorry.” I screwed my face, not knowing what else to say or do.
Jack held out his hand, signaling he needed a minute to recompose himself. It took a few seconds for Jack to catch his breath and settle in his seat. He exhaled deeply before reaching back to chug the rest of his champagne. Without a second's hesitation, I climbed out of the hot tub to refill Jack's glass.
“That was a bit unexpected,” he said finally.
“It was totally unintentional, though you did deserve it for tickling me.”
“No man deserves that,” he insisted, making me feel ever worse. As if Jack sensed it, he said, “I know it was just an accident.”
“Good. I wouldn't want you to think I have a secret vendetta against your balls.” Why did I say that? My mouth was being completely stupid tonight.
“I certainly hope you don't.” He grinned.
I decided to take Jack's amusement and run with it. “Well, actually, I have a secret vendetta against all balls, but that's beside the point.” After topping off my glass, I slipped back into the water, no longer caring if he was staring at me or not. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes after what I had done, even if it was an accident.
“And why is that? I've been meaning to ask you what made you a lesbian. I mean, were you born that way. I know a lot of gay people. It's always interesting to hear their stories.”
“I'm guessing that means you're not homophobic.”
“Not hardly.”
“Well, I suppose if you were, you would have fired me by now.”
“Not true. Syngex holds a no discrimination policy. In truth, I really don't care what our employees do behind closed doors as long as it doesn't affect their job performance. Work and home should be two completely separate things.”
