I call Grady.
Oh yeah, remember the boyfriend I mentioned? The one that I brought with me from NYU?
That's Grady. He manages my account over at Bad Boy Publishing.
And as usual, he's not answering.
Whatever, my serviced office is only really a two-minute walk from him; I'm in one end of Times Square and he's a block from me on 42nd and 8th.
And I have nothing better to do, so I shut and lock my door and head down the building.
It takes me almost no time to cross the street and go into the building that houses Bad Boy Publishing.
They're on the 5th through 10th floors, and Grady has his own office on the 7th floor.
He's always going on and on about how proud he is at his level of advancement at Bad Boy Publishing. I get that he's proud of his job, but he's an account executive still. Sure, he's climbing the ranks, but sometimes it's hard not to roll your eyes when he acts like he's the CEO.
I mean, if he were the CEO, he'd have a secretary or administrative assistant outside of his office, but he doesn't. Which means that despite the fact that his door is closed, I can still knock and go inside.
And that's when I freeze.
Because Grady is in his office alright.
But so is someone else.
She's got long blonde hair and a set of perfectly fake tits that have to be at least a C cup. She's anorexic thin and she's bent over the desk. Grady is naked from the waist down and he's pumping into her.
I smirk.
Grady pumping his cock into her as she's bent over his desk?
I mean, can she even feel him?
No offense to my boyfriend or anything, but sex really isn't his forte. Not with the 4-inch cock that God blessed him with. I mean, to Grady, those 4 inches are equivalent to about 16 on a regular human being, but to any regular woman, they're equivalent to about 0 I've always thought because whenever he's penetrated me, the first thing I've wanted to ask is, "Is it in?"
But of course I didn't. I mean that would be such a bitch move to do.
"Grady, you're fucking me so good, don't stop baby," the girl moans and all of a sudden I think I know who it is.
That's Alyssa Moore.
She's the model and author that recently had that whole thing with her ex-boyfriend fucking her sister at the RWAA convention.
It looks like she's moved on.
I guess she's come to Bad Boy Publishing instead of whatever publishing house she was at.
"Your cock is so big," she moans.
So they don't see me yet. Which is fine.
I clear my throat. Nothing.
"Grady," I say, knocking on the open door.
That's when he turns his head around.
Seriously, it's hilarious because his eyes go wide and he pulls his tiny baby dick outside of Alyssa who whimpers at it leaving.
Seriously, I've heard of women playing it up and pretending that a guy's cock is really big to inflate his male ego, but she actually seems like she's missing his cock.#p#分页标题#e#
Could she think his cock is big?
I mean, she's anorexic skinny and come to think of it, that's the only kind of woman Grady could probably satisfy at this stage in his life.
Yeah, I think this relationship is pretty much over at this point. I mean, it was nice while it lasted, I guess.
But I never expected that I was going to spend forever with him. God knows I didn't love him.
So, whatever, you know?
But Grady doesn't know that. I mean, he could be a little bit more dignified about it. Because all he's doing now is hopping from one foot to the next.
I look at him with curiosity.
"Abby!" he yells, and I see Alyssa turn around, her mouth turned into a perfect O.
Yes, I'm still a big name author in the publishing world. I may not have had many successes lately, but people still know who I am.
"So this is why you're not answering your phone, Grady?" I ask, putting one hand to my hip. "Because you're too busy with a new client?"
"It's not like that, babe," Grady tells me, running over to me.
I back off slightly. His cock is swinging. But it's not even like a big swinging dick. It's a little tiny sausage link that's waving its tail like a little Dachshund.
I make a face and Grady steps back.
"I thought you were writing, too!" he yells at me. "What're you doing here?"
I look at him with a mix of confusion and absolutely fucking puzzlement.
"So because you thought I was off writing, you thought it's okay to fuck another author?" I ask him, my voice rising. "And her?"
I'm pointing at Alyssa. Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against models and authors. But seriously, Alyssa Moore?
She never writes anything. She just puts her face on the cover in a skimpy bra and gets author credits.
I don't know if I'm more upset that he was fucking another woman or he was fucking her.
"Alyssa and I have been talking for a while, babe," Grady says, trying to explain it to me. "I'm sorry."