The Seduction Rebecca's Lost Journals Volume 1(9)
I tried to repay the orgasm by giving him a blow job, but he didn’t let me. He decided to lick me all over again and gave me yet another orgasm. The man was determined to win me over. Then he fucked me and he did it well. That man hit all the right spots in all the right ways.
I should have been won over. So why was it still not enough? I know he thought it would be; I saw it in his eyes. I told him nothing had changed, and he said okay again, we’d be fuck buddies. If he’d meant it, I might think it wasn’t such a bad idea. A no-commitment kind of thing. I don’t have time for more than a wham-bam-hit-me-with-an-orgasm-or-two kind of relationship.
Only, he didn’t mean it. This gorgeous man with bedroom skills very few men possess, who is sweet and sexy, and successful, must have a long list of woman chasing him, but he wants me. I told him I didn’t think the fuck buddy thing would work out. He told me he’d show up with another bottle of wine and convince me otherwise.
Oh, yes. I made a mistake by fucking him last night. I’ve opened up a big can of trouble.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
I visited Ricco’s home today and took a tour of his private gallery. It was spectacular and he had a Mexican chef prepare an authentic Mexican meal for us that was amazing. I asked him millions of questions about his art and his creative process and he answered them all. And when he asked me about my life, I shocked myself by almost crying when I told him about my mother dying of lung cancer. I don’t know why I told him, and I absolutely don’t know why I almost cried. And now, why can’t I stop thinking of the nightmare I haven’t had in weeks, where my mother pushed me back under the water of the bay?
Monday, January 10, 2011
Mark informed me that my first time working with actual customers would be at a gallery event Wednesday afternoon that will carry into early evening. I’m thrilled, but I have to work at the restaurant that night and I can’t get the time off. I tried. So it’s going to be this nightmare of a challenge to do well at the gallery and then rush to the restaurant.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Tonight there was a wine tasting at the gallery and I had to work at the restaurant right after the event, just like last week. I made it to work last week, so I was sure I could do so again this week. Working two jobs has been killing me, but ever since Mark let me loose on the sales floor I’ve done well.
The event this evening seemed to be going well, too. I made an expensive sale and landed a number of contacts I know will equal more sales. I was feeling good until the event ran late, and Mary had some crisis to deal with, and Mark asked me to stay. But I couldn’t, without losing my job at the restaurant. The instant I told him this, Mark called me into his office. He shut the door and I leaned against it. He was close, his gray eyes glinting with irritation.
“You work for me or you work for them. Choose now, Ms. Mason.”
“It’s not about choice, Mr. Compton. It’s about the necessity of paying my bills.”
“You’ll never turn this job into a larger income if you can’t complete duties.”
Since when was this an option? I rebutted, “I haven’t been told I have any chance to make more money.”
“You just started.”
“My bills didn’t.”
That glint in his eyes had turned sharper and I was sure he was going to fire me. Instead, he’d said, “Ten percent on tonight’s sale to get you by. If you continue to do well, there will be more. But that’s on the condition that you quit the restaurant. It’s beneath you, and I don’t share unless it’s on my terms. This isn’t.”
I had barely been able to breathe. He’d just offered me a huge bonus and given me the chance to make this job my career and actually get paid for it? I’m not going to get my hopes up. Not yet.