"Of course, Ma'am."
"I think maybe I'll need you to try and take my mind off things for a while."
My heart suddenly leapt, and though my hardness was long gone by now, I actually felt a tingling in my loins once again. Drive her home, take her mind off things - even if this was a kind of break-up sex for us, at least I would get one last chance to be with her.
*
It was actually a very pleasant evening, though both of us had that constant undercurrent of nervous energy simmering in the background as we looked ahead to our early morning meeting with the CEO.
On the journey back to her apartment building, we dealt with an outstanding question that had certainly been bugging me, and I saw also had importance to her.
She asked me: "Would you still serve me if I was no longer your boss, Jones?"
"Yes, Ma'am. If you still wanted me."
"And you'd do everything I told you?"
"To the best of my ability."
"And what if I got another job in another city?"
"Then I guess I'd have to move to another city," I said. Sitting there in that car with her, breathing her perfume and a remaining hint of the scent of sex, everything else in my life seemed to pale into insignificance.
"Would you really?" she looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
"As long as you still wanted me, I'd move in a flash."
She simply nodded at that, but the very fact she was thinking of this issue - of the continuation of our relationship even if the worst happened - gave me some small confidence. That was something to cling to, anyhow.
We drew up in the street outside her apartment, and for a moment once I'd switched the engine off, Zoey merely sat there, lost in contemplation. I felt a knot in my stomach, a question as to whether she'd invite me inside or not.
After a beat, she realized we'd arrived, and locked eyes with me. "Come on then, Jones," she said.
The thrill of accompanying her this far, the prospect of spending the evening with her, seemed to overcome the fear inside me, allowing me to get past the dread of what might happen in the morning. Inside her apartment, Zoey dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, but while she directed me upstairs, she herself remained in the kitchen, dialing a number from her cell phone.
"Hit the shower, Jones," she ordered me as I tentatively climbed the first few steps, unsure of what she wanted of me. "I'll be along once I've got food on the way."
I nodded, and as I scampered upstairs, heard her behind and below me, requesting a large Pepperoni Passion pizza.
While the house had two large bedrooms and a separate bathroom, Zoey's bedroom had a small en suite in which a shower sat in the corner. I assumed this was the one she meant for us, so stripped off and fired up the shower. Zoey wasn't far behind me, and while I waited for the water to warm up, I paused to watch her strip down.
She giggled as she saw me hardening up just from watching her. "You ready to go again?"
"Absolutely," I beamed.
"Not until you've cleaned up, filthy boy," she smirked.
The shower wasn't huge, but it was large enough for the two of us as long as we didn't mind standing close together. Since that was the idea, each of us washing the lingering traces of our coupling from the other, it was plenty of space. The sensation of our naked bodies writhing together, aided by the slippery soap, was heavenly. Smooth skin on smooth skin, hands duty bound to reach every spot, I could explore the contours of her every curve, and she could check out the rest of me, while giggling at the prominent burning pole that stood between us.
The warm water was invigorating flowing over our skins, seemingly carrying our anxiety away with it along with the soap and the grime. By the time we were ready to step out again, our high spirits had returned along with our appetites.
We spent so long in that shower, that as we were stepping out the doorbell sounded, announcing that our pizza was here.
I moved to put my clothes back on, but Zoey shook her head. "There's no point," she said, gesturing me away as she took my clothes from me.
"Better not let the pizza delivery guy see me like this, though," I suggested.
But she only shrugged and said: "What's he gonna do?"
Zoey handed me a $20 bill she'd placed on the nearest bedside table out in the bedroom. "Go ahead," she said.
I gulped, and did as I was told, my erection wilting as I left her behind in the bedroom and ventured downstairs to approach the front door. As my hand went to the doorknob, I tried to tell myself that pizza delivery guys must see all kinds of strange things all the time. Naked people - and worse. But it was pretty embarrassing.
I looked back towards the stairs, and saw that Zoey was now there, wearing a tight little white t-shirt and pink pleated miniskirt - all clean and innocent, yet with a devilish smile on her pretty face.