by Cee Smith
Overwhelmed, I did the only thing I knew to do. I pulled back. My mind and body scrambled for purchase against the combination of his closeness and his words. Even in New York’s Hall of Science—one of the world’s most noteworthy museums—I couldn’t find anything as intriguing as Vett.
“I like the way you talk,” I said, looking for something to cover the insecurity the moment had summoned.
“You’re going to have to be more descript than that, Indigo. What specifically about it do you like? Do you like the sound or cadence of my voice? The words that I use?”
“D. All of the above.”
The stiffness of his posture didn’t relent to my joke, and I turned away from him as I laughed off my embarrassment. I didn’t get very far before those hands that had starred in a number of my fantasies clasped the top of my shoulders. Once again I was contained within his force field, completely out of my realm as my mind warred with what my body screamed for.
“Is that common for you?” Vett nodded his head as if he already knew the answer to the question he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your use of humor. You’re obviously showing signs of discomfort. Do I make you nervous?” I didn’t expect him to be so forward. This was the same man who acted like I hadn’t sucked his dick three months before my first day as his employee.
Did he make me nervous? He shouldn’t. There was no reason to be nervous. I was an employee, he was my boss; it was as simple as that. At least that’s what I tried to rationalize, but there was nothing simple about this man or my feelings for him.
While thinking of an answer, I recycled everything that’d occurred over the previous ten minutes. There was nothing overtly sexual in the way he spoke to me or the words he’d said. The signals in my brain must have been completely fried because the way his body always angled towards me, the way he lingered so I was always only a step behind him, the way he spoke—everything conjured up a feeling of need and I was confused if it was mine or his.
“Maybe.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous. We’re just two people doing research.”
“Right.”
We’re just here doing research. Only research. That was why it was just him and me, alone, away from the office. I’d believe it if the sound of his voice wasn’t so intimate. As it were, every word that escaped his lips felt like they were being etched into the fibers of my soul, to be carried with me into the afterlife like a gift offered for passage. He might have been there for artistic inspiration, but he was the only one.
Thursday, August 26th
Tuesday and Wednesday I waited on the opposite side of the train and watched Mr. Belford exit at a stop I’d come to realize wasn’t his home. Where did he go after work? A pattern was starting to emerge. On most days Mr. Belford got off on 33rd Street, which I had discovered wasn’t his home. Though, I found he would exit the train with as much enthusiasm as one fleeing to reach the confines of one’s home. What would it feel like to be the source of all that enthusiasm?
Tuesday was a sign that he was just within my grasp. I just had to find the right moment, my moment. There was something there that day. Standing pressed up against him, I’d encountered the same heady feeling that came over me the very first time we met. When I walked into his office on Tuesday, I was at my limit with this dance—me trying desperately to cut through the mystery of the man in the suit, and him straddling the line of treating me like some stray. I was a little lamb who got separated from the herd. Except, I couldn’t tell whether I’d been separated intentionally or by accident. To say I was confused as to what was happening between us was an understatement.
I spent my nights hiding out in my room—afraid that Tea would be able to read my every emotion with just one look. One glance and she’d know how thoughts of him plagued me. This wasn’t the squishy, cute, write our initials on stationery kind of crush. This feeling was the kind that made people show up at doors to profess their longing. Though that’s totally not why I showed up at his door the previous week; I honestly just wanted to see him in his element. Although, I knew where he lived now, so there was this underlying temptation drawing me back to his door. I wouldn’t go through with it. At least not yet, and that’s what scared me—that I would be back.
The woman on my computer screen stared back at me, with blonde hair slicked back into a chignon and Chinese bangs. Milky white skin was on full display where her dress plunged down. A slit rode high up her skirt, revealing thin yet toned thighs. The arm not wrapped around Vett like a python looked long and thin, making me feel even more insecure about my arms that were more fat than muscle.
The light from my screen amplified the unusually girlie pink polish on my nails. I looked back at the woman. Her nails weren’t pink. As feminine as she was, she didn’t strike me as the type to paint her nails such a juvenile color. No, she wears passionate, fiery colors—bold royal blue dress and deep plum nails to match the perfect berry colored pout. And while I can mimic all of that like playing dress-up in my mother’s closet, the one thing I couldn’t replicate was her daintiness. Next to her I’d look Amazonian.
This was the kind of woman Vett wanted on his arm.
Beneath the camera’s flash, Vett’s eyes looked feral, like something I could have seen on display in the museum. Eyes of fern simmered, as if this image of him was all smoke and mirrors and he was really cloaking a secret that would make your pants combust if you only knew the truth. I wanted to close my computer, blacken the screen to let my thoughts drift back to the memory when his chest burned beneath the heat of my touch. There was truth in the look he gave me that day at the museum. For just a brief moment, he gifted me a glimpse behind the wall. It was only a moment, but it was the one thing I needed to reaffirm my place on the other side where I belonged with him.
Scrolling through my phone, I pulled up the candid snapshots of Vett I was able to capture while on the train. Zoomed in, the images were grainy, but it was the best I could do from twenty feet away, with hazy subway lights and other passengers around. Just his face filled the screen. There on my phone was the real Mr. Belford/Vett/Everett. There, he was all of those men rolled into one.
The last picture I looked at before I put my phone away for the night was from our ride on the subway earlier that day. Usually the fluorescent lights made his blond hair shine like a halo, but not in this picture. Freshly washed, his golden strands became the color of coffee. The ends brushed his collar, long enough to twine my fingers in. I zoomed back out to look at his narrow hips and muscular thighs. With the memory of holding those thighs fresh in my head, I powered off my phone and slipped beneath the covers.
Every cell in my body buzzed, hyperaware of my current arousal. My nipples tightened to pinpoints, and every brush of my shirt sent numbing flutters straight to my core. My body was a factory, pumping out hormones that ramped up my desire until I was forced to alleviate some of the building pressure.
I leaned over to my nightstand, pulling the drawer open to retrieve my trusty Rabbit—that may or may not have been getting more usage since starting my new job.
The vibrator glided through my slick channel without any resistance, displaying my neediness. I didn’t immediately turn it on, but waited until my body was reacquainted with being filled. Behind closed eyes I conjured up an image of Vett and how he filled out my cheeks with the weight of his member pushing past my lips. I pushed in deeper, my hips lifted in unison. Still hovering above the bed, I switched the vibrator on low. In my mind Vett was there.
His eyes. Push in.
His legs. Pull out.
That mouth. Push in.
Those hands. Pull out.
Every image was like a flash of light scoured into my mind. My hand flexed with each new picture. The orgasm building in my core was like a magnet, making every muscle in my body clench tight. Lost in the feeling, I forgot to breathe. I was a hot air balloon floating higher and higher. My head grew fuzzy, and my vision dimmed aroun
d the edges. Every twist of my wrist drew me closer to the end, when I could finally take a breath of air and allow my body to unwind from all of the coiled tension.
If I could have taken another breath, I would have called out his name when my legs pinched tight and my body melted into the bed like frosting on warm cupcakes. It wasn’t enough though. I just needed that first orgasm to catch my breath, but I needed the next one to put me to sleep. At least that’s what I’d realized earlier that week. So instead of turning the Rabbit off, I turned it to the next setting and let the squelching sound of my juices spin me into the deepest dream where it isn’t a vibrator between my legs but Vett—strong and powerful and driving into me with a force that knocked the last bit of air from my lungs. I gasped as my second orgasm twisted through my core and left me sore like the first day back at a gym.
Friday, August 28th
Sometime between my eyes drifting shut the night before and my arrival to work that morning, I’d made up my mind. I could let this go on forever, or I could be a big girl and call him out. It was Friday and in another half hour he was going to call me in for our meeting, giving me the perfect opportunity to lay it all out there.
The office was relatively empty with the usual early birds wandering to and from the kitchen as they readied for the day. Catherine sat at her desk, scrolling down pages of what I imagined were emails from people all looking for a little bit of Mr. Belford’s time.
I peered through the glass, looking left and right of the pod to make sure Mr. Belford hadn’t arrived yet. It wasn’t typical for him to arrive that early, but seeing as how the previous Friday’s meeting didn’t go so well, coupled with all of the things I wanted to say rushing to break free, I was flexed tighter than newly wired guitar strings.
“Good morning, Catherine,” I said as I approached her desk. With a downcast head, her attention flitted between sheets of paper lining her desk and the computer monitor directly in front of her. Her brown eyes looked duller than usual, and upon closer look, her shirt looked slightly wrinkled. In the two weeks I’d worked there I’d never seen Catherine anything less than polished. I hadn’t so much as seen a splash of coffee on her shirt, which made me wonder if she had a spare set of clothes she kept on hand for days such as this one. The unusual image of her made me wince—she had approximately thirty minutes to get her shit together before Mr. Belford arrived. I was sure he would have had a thing or two to say about the image she was portraying.
“Good morning, Indigo. What can I do for you?” The white of her eyes showed no sign of tears, but her voice suggested otherwise.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but does Mr. Belford have an opening after our meeting at 8?”
“Let me check for you.”
Uncomfortable with standing over her while she checked his calendar, I paced outside his door.
“It looks like he has an opening for thirty minutes directly following your meeting. Would you like me to extend your meeting to 9:30?”
“Yes, please.”
She clicked a few buttons and looked up with a painted-on smile to let me know it was done. I started to walk away but turned back around before I got more than a few feet away.
“I was just about to head to the kitchen. Can I get you anything? Some fruit, coffee, water?” I’d had very little interaction with Catherine, so I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, but I figured the least I could do was get her coffee.
“Only if you already planned on going to the kitchen anyway.”
“Yes, I was. I can’t make it through a day without at least a cup. What can I get you?”
“The dark roast coffee. Could you also bring back one half-and-half packet? My son came down with the flu, and it’s been a friggin’ nightmare.”
I smiled to myself as I thought of Catherine’s life outside of work.
“Maybe with some coaxing you’ll be able to convince Mr. Belford to let you off early.”
“Pfftt. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t send me home the moment he walks in.”
I shrugged my shoulders, not quite sure whether that was good or bad, and said, “I’ll be right back with your coffee. Hopefully you’re still here when I return.”
She slumped in her chair until just the tops of her shoulders were visible beyond the desk, and I hurried over to the kitchen. I liked Catherine but I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere near her when Mr. Belford came in. With my luck he would have lashed out at me, by proxy.
When I returned to hand her her cup and creamer, Mr. Belford still hadn’t arrived, and she looked marginally better—something I was sure would only improve with a few sips of the coffee.
Tuesday’s meeting was leaps and bounds better than my meeting with him the prior week. He sat across from me on the couch, once again flipping through the sketches Ed and I had cranked out.
I was a little nervous about working with someone else so closely, especially while trying to conceal so much about the project, but Ed was a meticulous worker and an easygoing guy. He made things a lot easier by not asking anything other than specifics for the work he was helping me with. He was also becoming a bit of a friend in the workplace, which made working together more enjoyable.
Mr. Belford flipped through the first two pages and landed on the third. It was the same one that, when I wasn’t eye-fucking his pictures at night, I’d spent hours perfecting, working and re-working it to perfection. He lingered over the image and I wondered what he saw. Could he make out the tension in every line, the hard edges in every swoop of lettering, when it felt like the lead of my pencil would crack from my bottled up sexual tension?
“This one’s good.” He tapped the page a couple times, and I watched those long fingers and the slow rhythmic patting against my paper. I was spellbound by the sound and movement of him. He continued looking at each image, unaware of my heightened awareness.
My discomfort grew as the end of our meeting approached. The clock above his head showed 45 minutes had passed and it felt like I was a kid again, falling asleep in class only to wake up and realize class was over. What had we been discussing the whole meeting? Had he asked me anything? It wasn’t like him to let a question go unanswered, so had he really been looking at the sketches for the past thirty minutes? That would have been taking fastidiousness to a whole new level.
“I want you to do mock-ups for ideas 3 and 6 and have Ed continue working on new ideas. We need to have more options to show Mr. Oaken in our next meeting.”
“I’ll get on that. Do you already have the meeting with Mr. Oaken scheduled?”
“Not yet, but it’ll likely take place in the next few weeks. So, I want to be kept up to date on the progress of these.” He held up the notepad, and pieces of paper rustled with the wind whipping through the sheets.
“Of course.”
This was it.
If I couldn’t tell by the closing conversation, I would know simply by my palm that could shake the sweat from my hand. I’d never been more nervous in my life. I was having a harder time bringing it up than I did on Tuesday, when I was ready to come barreling into his office to force him to acknowledge me. It was probably a good thing he cut me off so I didn’t barge in his office, screaming like a wild banshee. Although, I didn’t mind the courage that came with me not giving a fuck about the consequences. Now that we were sitting across from each other all prim and proper with ankles crossed and casual conversation, I didn’t feel the same fire ready to blast out the first thought that came to mind. I was very much aware of my body language, of every feeling that I’d felt since the moment I saw him, of every time I felt shut down by him in the last two weeks and every look that begged for me to cross the line.
I’d never been this forward with anyone I’d ever dated or was even interested in for that matter, but above every man I’d ever seen, I knew Mr. Belford was worth every second of torture as his eyes peered into mine while waiting for me to blink, move, speak—something to explain the extra thirty minutes I clipped onto
the end of this meeting.
“Look, Ms. Ericson—”
“Wait. I don’t know what you’re going to say, but do you mind if I go first? If I don’t, I think I might lose the courage.” I hoped my timid smile would convince him to concede on this one—something I was sure he hadn’t done very often in his life.
After he nodded with acceptance, I took a fortifying breath, releasing all of my anxieties with my next exhale.
“Do you remember me? Wait, don’t answer that.” I threw up my hand to stop him from answering the one question I truly wanted the answer to but also had the power to break me the most. The only thing I could do at this point was be completely honest and expect the worst outcome. If I was forced to walk away from this job, at least I’d be able to say I got everything off my chest.
“I never expected to see you again and the thought never crossed my mind that you would be my new boss, and I don’t regret any of those things, but I feel like it’s the pink elephant in the room.”
“I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable by not addressing our previous encounter. I thought by ignoring it, you would feel more at ease. I see that’s not the case,” his eyes cut to my legs shaking with nervousness. “I see great potential in you, Indigo. You’re a smart and beautiful young woman and sometimes that makes me lose sight of our working relationship. I apologize for Tuesday at the museum and last Friday night, for that matter. I don’t want to lead you to think there is anything that is happening or will happen between us moving forward. I am your boss, you are my employee. That is where our relationship begins and ends.”
His words were a door slamming in my face, shutting me out to all of the feelings that had been brewing for months while I thought about the mystery man who left my life as swiftly as he’d entered it.
