I am at my job, he’ll spare me.
“What the fuck are you going to say to him?”
“I don’t know. How about, your son’s not really a terrible lay. I only said that in anger. Or I didn’t sleep with your son and only pretended to because you pissed me off? Or please don’t fire me. I need the job. I’m normally not a drunken whore-bag who drinks out of cartons. I was letting off steam because my slut fiancé dumped me after screwing half the office behind my back and now has a new girlfriend?”
She winces. “You are not a whore-bag. Don’t slut shame yourself, girl, or I’ll come over there and beat some sense into you. As for the sex in his house situation… On second thought, I wouldn’t even go there, babe. How can you? What the hell can you say? Honestly, don’t mention it is my advice. Maybe act as if you’ve never seen him before. Pretend it’s not you. If all else fails, just start crying. Men cannot handle it when women cry, particularly young pretty ones. Cry and pout. Put those damn blow job lips to good use. Thank God you wore that lipstick today. You pout with that on, and he’ll be too busy thinking dirty thoughts to be pissed.”
I stare at her as if she’s grown another head. “Yeah, that’s a good plan. Pretend it’s not me. That won’t make me look fucking crazy or anything. Then try to sexy-cry, which isn’t even a thing.”
“Sexy-crying is a thing. I’ve done it. You let a few tears slide down your cheeks, you pout, and you look all helpless. Men love helpless women, especially men like him.”
“How do you know what he loves?” I shoot back as I shuffle my papers. She knows nothing about him.
I do.
I know how he takes his coffee, that he reads great literature, and loves dogs. Not that I’m about to tell her any of that. My time getting to know Konstantin when he came into the coffee shop while I still worked there is a secret I prize too much to tarnish with the oxygen of sharing it.
“Wish me luck.”
“Break a leg,” she says. Laughing some more. “In fact, that might be a good get out clause.”
Bitch. But it makes me smile.
I grab the papers I’ve printed off and walk unsteadily down the corridor to the boardroom.
I knock once.
“Come in,” Konstantin replies. His gravelly voice is as sexy now as it had been when I first heard it back when he ordered a latte to-go.
Most disturbing to me in this clusterfuck I find myself in is that I kind of agree with Suzy. It might be worth losing my job for a night with Konstantin. I’ve never wanted a man so much in my life.
I bet he’s got a dark side, a sensual dark side. Despite my lack of experience with such things, the idea appeals to me. On a few occasions, I tried to spice things up with Tim. I asked him to spank me, but he was half-hearted and kept giggling. Then I asked him to pull my hair, I love how it feels and do it to myself often enough, but he flat out refused.
The one time he tied me up, he kissed me all over gently for hours, and I was so bored I almost fell asleep. I wanted him to bite me, nip me, spank me, and leave marks. I don’t mean anything horrific, I’m not a masochist who wants to be covered in welts, but I’d have loved if Tim had used a firm hand in bed, but he never did. Or rather, the few times he tried, it felt like the obvious role play that it was. And a half-hearted one at that. I might not want to be hurt, but deep down in the dark night of my soul, I crave being dominated. Konstantin dominates everyone around him simply by standing there doing nothing. It makes my panties wet.
I take a breath and walk into the room to find Konstantin sitting at the head of the huge boardroom table, the seat to the left of him pulled out and angled to one side. Ready for me. Crap. My legs wobble as I near him, my heart hammering.
Who is this stupid, nervy, pathetic girl? And what has she done with the competent old me?
“Well, we meet again,” he says with that smirk as I sit.
So we’re going there? We’re doing this, confronting