I just rolled my eyes. Marie was so over-the-top with this sex stuff, in her mind sharing was truly caring. But I was a little more circumspect.
“Marie, I don’t have any people, I answer my own phones and do everything myself,” I reminded her gently. “If Nick Martin wants to send his people over, then they’ll just be dealing with yours truly.”
And the blonde giggled again into the phone.
“I bet he will,” she said wickedly. “He’s gonna do something, an alpha male like that doesn’t just walk away without touching your pussy.”
And I smiled again to myself, huffing a sigh.
“Okay girl, I’ll let you know,” I promised, feigning a yawn. “Now I’ve got to get to bed, it’s almost midnight. Why aren’t you in bed too? Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Not until the night shift,” she said smugly. “The Pink Cherry is open until 4 a.m., you know, for folks who want to get it on late.”
And I laughed again. Oh right, horizontal shenanigans often happened in the wee hours of the night, I was just so beat by the time I got home that I’d forgotten that people actually had active sex lives after they hit the sheets.
“Okay, gotta go girlie, talk to you later,” I replied and hung up.
But once I was alone, I let out a saucy smile in the quiet of my room, my body tingling once more. I was dying to see Nick again, dying to touch that hard body, see him without any clothes on in his full manly glory. I wanted to see his cock again, touch it, taste it, maybe rub it against myself, let it rub my pussy, and was that so wrong? After all, a gorgeous, powerful man had just landed on my doorstep and seemed more than a little interested. I gushed again, my panties soaked as my pussy clenched with anticipation. Oh yeah, I was eager, willing, shit, dying for him.
But that was all tomorrow. In the meantime, I needed to get a good night’s rest for my commute at the crack of dawn again tomorrow. Fall asleep, I commanded myself. Fall asleep, you’ve got a lot on your plate.
And after counting about a million sheep, restlessly tossing and turning, finally I fell into a shallow slumber, my face hot on my pillow as my curvy body relaxed, my breathing still.
When the alarm buzzed the next morning, I was up in a flash, jumping off my mattress. Instead of sleepily pulling on my usual uniform of a skirt and blouse, I carefully squeezed myself in a sheath dress, a body-skimming purple outfit that hugged my curves without being over the top. It was snug at my bust and bottom, but with a modest neckline and knee-length. Pairing the dress with violet pumps was the perfect match and I tried to blow dry my hair a bit, carefully aiming the diffuser at my curls so that they hung just so, a gleaming mass down my back.
And fortunately I didn’t see that disgusting middle-aged guy again on my morning ride. Heaving a sigh of relief I sank into a seat by the window, dreamily looking out the window, thinking of Nick as the wheels started to turn.
But after I let myself in Luxor Corp., I was in for a shock. Because there was nothing in my office, it was a small, windowless space without a scrap of furniture inside.
“What the?” I gasped. “What’s going on here? Where’s all my stuff? Where’s my spare jacket?” I always left a nice blazer on the back of the door in case I was called into a business meeting but my real worry was my drawer of sex toys. Oh god, I’d left that locked last night, right? Hopefully it hadn’t come spilling open when they manhandled the desk out the door. Or worse, taken pliers to the lock and busted it open.
But the movers were unhelpful, shrugging at my question.
“We were told to move everything in here to another location. Didn’t someone tell you?” a scraggly looking guy answered, picking at his teeth with a finger.
“No, no one told me anything. When I left yesterday at 5 p.m. I thought everything was fine!” I choked. “I never expected to come in and find … this,” I said helplessly, gesturing at the empty space. Now that my metal desk and chair were gone, the windowless office looked even smaller and sadder, the walls a pale yellow, the floor a shiny institutional grey.
“I dunno,” shrugged the scraggly guy again. “Ask up top.”
“Fine. I’m getting on the phone with HR,” I said tightly. “They can’t just do this to me,” I huffed.
But evidently they could. When I finally got through to HR, the woman was just as dismissive.
“What was your name?” the woman drawled.
“Jones,” I replied tightly. “Tammy Jones.”
“Jones … Jones … Jones, there are so many Joneses at Luxor. Did you say you were Tabitha? Teresa? Tamara?”