by Jamie Knight
I get to the office earlier than everyone else, so I can stow my two suitcases in my office without anyone spotting me - a plan on where to go next has to wait until after I handle the open house. Screw that up, and I can just plan on bringing them back to my father’s house… and then to my new husband Charles’s place. And I am not going to let that happen.
Somehow, I get through the afternoon. I’m tired, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced in the past during my long nights and days of hard work. And it’s nothing that some caffeine can’t help me get through.
A car takes me to the house that’s on the market, and I spend the time in the car reviewing information about the property, filing away any bits and pieces of information that I can while downing my third cup of coffee (I think I finally top out at around five cups today).
The house is filled with people almost immediately after I open the doors. Apparently, the place used to belong to a soap opera star, and most of the people here are couples whose wives have insisted on visiting the property for a chance at touching something approaching fame.
They’re not the ones with whom I’m concerned. The ones I focus on, beyond a polite greeting, are the few couples that I catch commenting on the architecture of the place, or whispering to their partners about how it reminds them of home somehow.
Out of all these couples, one stays longer than all the rest, and, without much in the way of urging from me, makes an offer on the house that’s ten thousand dollars above the asking price. Two sales in less than two weeks… not a bad start at all.
Sure, part of me is worried that I really hadn’t put much work into the open house myself – most of it had been set up in advance before I even started working for the company - but a sale is a sale, and right now, that’s what matters. I can worry about owning things every little step of the way once I have a roof over my head again.
Luckily, as it turns out, the rest of the office staff seem to share my feelings on the subject. After all, an offer is an offer is an offer - especially when the potential buyers schedule a meeting to sign the final paperwork in less than a week.
Back in my office, I sink down behind my desk and let out a sigh that it feels like I’ve been keeping inside for weeks. Maybe now I can finally relax just a bit.
That notion lasts for a grand total of about eight seconds before there’s a knock on my door. “Payroll delivery!”
That gets my spirit up - until I open the envelope to find that my first check is made out to “Mariah Young”… the fake last name I used when I applied for this job, rather than Mariah Harper, my real last name.
Shit. I completely forgot that I did that to hide any connection to my father or his company. Now I can’t cash the check, and it’s just one more instance of my dad screwing me over. I still don’t have money – or I do, but I can’t get to it. And this time, I can’t see a way out of it.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at that check with a fake name on it, but by the time I finally get up to leave, the rest of the floor is pretty much deserted. Again. I’m really making a habit out of being the last person in the office. If there was anyone around to see it, it’d be impressive.
I wander into the lobby, idly looking around. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. That’s when the couch where we relegate clients as they wait for an appointment catches my eye. It’s practically bigger than my bed at the motel.
I sit down. And it’s softer than the bed, too! Could I…?
No, that’s a terrible idea! But do I really have another choice?
Besides, every great biography seems to start with a story about how the famous subject worked without sleeping or never left the office or snuck onto a studio lot with a fake ID to get their first gig. Is crashing on the office couch for a few days really that much worse than those things?
“Oh, Mariah, hi!” I whirl to find - who else? - Wesley Drive standing in the lobby behind me. “I thought I was the only one who burned the midnight oil around here.” He checks his watch, then shrugs. “Or rather, the 10:30 p.m. oil.”
“Hi, Mr. Drive,” I manage, fighting to keep the memory of our moment outside the restaurant at bay long enough to survive this surprise conversation. “I was just finishing up some of the paperwork from the open house today. I guess I just lost track of time.”
“That used to happen to me quite a bit when I first started too, funny enough.” Mr. Drive cracks that smile of his again, and I can feel certain parts of my body rebelling, refusing to obey my internal shouts to not get turned on, to feel perfectly normal and not excited, to not release those butterflies in my stomach.
“My father’s office used to be like this one,” he continues, “emptying out early every evening. Myself and a few other folks would stick around, buried in our books or paperwork. For some reason, I always felt more peaceful and relaxed in the empty office than I did anywhere else. It’s an exciting feeling, knowing you’re part of such a lively and important place. I’d stay and keep you company, but I’m afraid the old bones are demanding their rest. Makes sure the door locks behind you when you leave, hmm?”
With that, he walks past me and out the door. When I’m sure he’s far enough away that he won’t hear me, I let out a strangled, “Goddamnit, Mariah!”
He was so hot. But I can’t have him. And he shot out of here fast, as if he’s not interested in me the way I am in him, anyway.
Seething, I sit on the couch. “Do not try to fuck your boss. Just don’t. You have more important things to worry about right now, like your job, and where you’re going to sleep tonight!”
Spent, I lie back against the couch cushions and let out a long breath. I should get up and find a cheap motel or something. Go somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t the office… I should….
Chapter 25 - Wesley
“Shit, where did I leave my phone?”
You’d think after so many years of being on the go as a businessman, I’d have a better ability to keep track of things. But no. This is the third time this week I’ve managed to misplace my cell, and I really can’t afford to not have it right now.
Today of all days, I really do need it. Aunt Shelly is having some medical tests done, and I’m her designated driver.
It’s six in the morning, and I’ve turned my bedroom upside down. No phone. And there are only two places I ever set it down: here, or the office. That’s where I must have left it. Makes sense, my inner voice laughs. You were pretty distracted by Mariah on your way out of the building last night.
“Now is not the time for that,” I mutter, scrambling into a pair of pants. But the thought isn’t off-base… I have been thinking of Mariah a lot. I’ve tried to pretend it’s just in a business sense, especially after she closed that open house so quickly. But seeing her last night in the office, standing there in front of me, it certainly wasn’t the business part of my brain that wanted to take over.
I had to hurry out of there before I said or did the wrong thing. Her curvy figure turned me on as always, as did the fact that she was working so late. She’s exactly everything I want in a woman, but it’s too bad she’s my employee and so young, so, I can’t have her.
Well, at least there’s no way I’ll run into her again today, I think. Maybe a day away from the office will be the reset I need. No one will be at the office this early, so I’ll be able to duck in, grab the cell phone I left there in my hurry to run away from Mariah, and get out.
That’s the plan. Then I open the front door of the office, and am greeted by a softly snoring Mariah. Sleeping on the lobby couch. With a suitcase next to her. What is going on here?
Leaning down, I shake her shoulder gently. “Mariah.”
“Mhhhmm,” she murmurs, still mostly asleep, “Don’t stop.”
“Mariah.” I say her name again, louder. “Mariah, wake up.”
She starts awake, staring up at me blankly for a second until she comes back to herself.
“Oh!” She scrambles upright on the couch, her cheeks flushing red. “Mr. Drive! What’re you doing here?”
I almost laugh. “Are you really the one who should be asking that question right now?”
I’m right, and she knows it. “So, Mariah…what’re you doing here at 6:45 in the morning? Besides sleeping on the couch.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mariah tries to straighten her clothes, and as she does I catch a flash of her lacy, pink bra… and the skin underneath. “I must’ve just stayed too late and passed out.”
She’s lying, and we both know it. But why would she be telling me anything but the truth? And what kind of truth ends up with her crashing on the lobby couch?
“So, you accidentally fell asleep here. With your suitcase.” I keep my tone calm and gentle. With her, that’s easy.
She nods, hesitant. I keep eye contact with her, feeling more and more concern. Something’s not right here.
“Mariah, remember what I told you outside the bar? You can trust me. Besides, if you’re going to sleep on my couch, in my office, I should at least get to know why.”
“Your couch?” she asks, a faint smile on her face.
“Yes, actually.” I’d almost forgotten that. “They remodeled awhile back, and brought in this truly awful couch the color of a sick frog. I hated it, so I bought a new one for the office myself. Snuck it in overnight with a few friends for help, as a matter of fact.”
There’s a real smile on Mariah’s face now. “Well, it is really comfy.”
I sit next to her. “I know. Now please, tell me what’s going on here. I know something’s not right.”
Mariah stares at the floor for a long moment, then lifts her gaze to me.
“Okay.”
Chapter 26 - Mariah
Looking at Wesley, I can’t keep it all in, all to myself, anymore. So, the truth - or a nearly-there version of it - spills out.
I tell him how my dad (conspicuously nameless) kicked me out and cut me off. How my one credit card is maxed out, and I just got evicted. How the payroll system made a mistake with my check so I can’t even deposit or cash the money that I’ve made so far. How I’m juggling two jobs and how it just ended up being too much for me.
“So, I decided to sit down for a minute after you left last night, and then I just didn’t leave. I know I should have, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know where to go.”
I’m so afraid Wesley is going to be angry with me… but the only expression on his face is one of comfort. He puts his arm on my shoulder, brushing my hair ever so slightly with his fingers.
“Mariah, I had no idea. You’ve been doing stellar work here. You’ve really made a difference to the office. And all this time, you’ve been dealing with everything you just told me about as well?”
I nod, almost sheepish. “I really am sorry. I won’t sleep in the office again.”
“You’re right, you won’t. Because you’re staying with me.”
That was the last thing in the world I expected him to say. “With you? Mr. Drive, I can’t do -”
“You can and you will,” he interrupts me. “You’re a remarkable woman, Mariah, and you deserve this chance. If all it takes to keep you on track is giving you a roof over your head, then I’m more than happy to provide that.”
This is a bad idea, says the little voice in my head, but this time it’s awfully quiet and doesn’t seem all that sure of itself.
“Are you sure?”
My voice is quiet, pleading, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.
“I am.”
Wesley’s voice, in return, is warm, safe, inviting. In that moment, all I want are his arms wrapped around me and his lips on mine.
For now, I settle for his kind smile. And I answer, “Okay then. I’ll stay with you. Thank you.”
Chapter 27 - Mariah
By the time we arrive at Wesley’s house, the sun is all the way up. He’s gotten us both coffee from a nearby Starbucks, and I almost spit mine out when I see his home for the first time. It’s a massive stone building, resembling nothing so much as a small castle. There are even turrets on all four sides of the roof.
“This is all yours?” I manage, as we get out of his car and I pull my suitcase out of the trunk.
“All mine, yup.” Wesley doesn’t sound quite as prideful or happy as I might have expected someone with this much at his disposal to be. “I do have guests fairly often, but other than that, I’ve got the run of the place.”
Inside is just as impressive. The ceilings are vaulted, and art fancier than some I’ve seen in million-dollar mansions is on display on the walls. The floors are spotless, and the whole place smells like a pine forest.
“Your room is up here,” he says, walking up the main staircase ahead of me. I do my best not to stare at the way his ass fills out his pants as he climbs, but in this case my best effort results in complete and utter failure.
The room he leads me to is gorgeous; decked out in floral colors and matching artwork, with a queen-sized bed in the middle of it.
“And here we are.” Wesley sets my suitcase down and gestures me forward. “All yours.”
Instead of stepping into the room, I turn to him. “Thank you… Wesley. This means a lot. It’s a huge house.”
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and wrap my arms around him in a close hug. He hesitates for perhaps the longest second of my life before he responds, hugging me back.
“You’re very welcome, Mariah. Whatever you need. My mother and her sister, my Aunt Shelly, often stay in this room when they visit and they find it very accommodating. But if there is any way I can make it more comfortable for you, just let me know.”
I move my hands down from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. I want to go further… but I don’t. Not yet. In return, his hand caresses my cheek as we separate. I smile at him.
“Listen, there’s only one thing I really need right now. And that’s a shower after that night on the couch,” I tell him. “Let me clean up and then I’ll come find you?”
He smiles back at me. “Of course.”
I head to the luxurious bathroom and have a long shower in the tiled marble area. I’m glad to get a good proper cleaning— the hotel bathroom’s shower left a lot to be desired. I love Wesley’s house, and it’s obvious that he has a good relationship with his mom and aunt— although he doesn’t say much about his relationship with his father.
I take my time in the shower, thinking about all the thing I wish Wesley would do to me. His big, strong arms could lift me up and I could wrap my legs around him so that he can fully enter me. His hands could squeeze my ass while I bounce up and down on his cock. It’s obvious that he’s into me and I want to make it happen – career consequences be damned.
I can’t believe I’m thinking like this, because I’ve always been so ambitious and focused on what I want. Now, I want two things simultaneously— my financial freedom and independence, and to have sex with my boss. I know those two goals might be opposed; one will probably interfere with the other.
But I can’t help it. It almost feels good to just give in to my base desires for once, rather than denying myself pleasure in exchange for discipline. I want to get with Wesley and see where it leads me.
Chapter 28 - Mariah
I head back to the guest room, wearing only the towel. When I step into the room, I’m surprised to see that Wesley is still there. Or, rather, maybe he left and came back while I was in the shower.
“Oh,” he says, dropping a robe that he was holding onto the bed. It is fluffy and white – like those comfy ones at nice hotels. “Sorry for the intrusion. I just thought you might want to wear this robe.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, with a smile. “But what if I don’t?”
“I’m sorry?” he asks, his eyebrows raised up towards each other in confusion.
“What if I don’t want to wear the robe?”
This is it –
my bold invitation for him to hit on me. The ball’s in his court now. He could take my question to mean that perhaps I’d rather get dressed in normal clothes. Or he could take it for what it is…
…and he does.
“You mean, what if you don’t want to wear anything at all?” he asks, a smirk crossing his thick, handsome lips.
“Exactly.”
“Well, I think that can be arranged.”
In two steps, he’s crossed the small length of floor that was separating us, and he’s dropped the towel from my waist. I love that he took charge and did that, rather than leaving it up to me to show my naked body to him.
It’s so much different than the younger guys I’ve dated have acted. I begin to realize there’s a reason I never wanted to lose my virginity to them. I wanted someone older, wiser, more experienced… I was waiting to meet someone like Wesley.
He looks down at me and lets out a low whistle.
“I knew you were gorgeous, but I had no idea you looked this good under there,” he says, putting his hand on my ass and squeezing it, just like I’d just imagined him doing in the shower.
He bends down to kiss me, and his tongue is eager and strong. I wrap my own up with it, and we make out like high schoolers.
“I love your round ass and those perfectly plump tits,” he says, as he pinches my nipple and then bends down to suck on one of them. “I can’t believe I’m so fucking lucky as to be able to taste you.”
He bends down a bit further and picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. At first, it’s just like I fantasized about in his shower moments ago, but then it gets rougher, wilder – and I like it. He walks forward and pins me up against the bedroom wall. I hang there, with my naked legs around him, his pelvis leaning into my wet, aching pussy while he hurries to take off his belt and pants.
