TRAVIS

Viola may be a smart ass, but she knows her stuff. I study her mouth as she talks about the articles of the European Community treaty in detail. She notices me staring and stops.

“What?” Her eyes narrow, and I flash a little smirk and shake my head.

“The main point of this is to not have misleading advertising. It’s not like the American market where we can basically insinuate someone’s boobs will grow or they’ll lose a hundred pounds in a week. Or you’ll get chicks if you drink Bud Light. It’s stricter. We do have the Federal Trade Commission but the European treaty is that on steroids,” she continues on and then stops abruptly. “Are you even listening?”

“You have no idea.” My lips tilt up, holding onto her every word.

She fidgets under my gaze. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes. Your rules. Aren’t they a bit ridiculous?”

Her mouth falls open then shuts. “No.”

“What are the rules anyway?” I ask, closing my laptop. “You might want to clarify since I’m supposed to be following them for the next week and a half.”

Viola stands and snatches her Kindle from the couch.

“Wear clothes. No skanks in the house. And I don’t want you to say anything that’s even remotely sexual. Basically, you stay away from me, and I stay away from you.”

“Other than when I need your help, right?” I arch an eyebrow and watch as her eyes stroll down my body.

“Did you just check me out?” I flash a knowing-grin. “That was a major eye-fuck.”

She gasps. “Rules!”

“Don’t make this a double standard. If I have to follow the rules, so do you, princess.” I’m amused by the way her face contorts when I’m right.

“I can see we’re done here. Good luck with that. Looks like you’re going to need it.”

“You too,” I mumbled back, eyeing her tight little body, and she knows exactly what I was talking about–the way she reacts to me.

I reopen the laptop and start researching the parent companies and their past marketing efforts. If we want to stand out in the crowd, I can’t come up with some mediocre plan. I’m actually pissed that I didn’t pay more attention in class when it came to foreign trade and policies. While I wanted and wished for a project such as this, now it feels more like a burden instead of a blessing. But Viola may be my secret weapon.

After making detailed notes, I feel pretty good about what I’ve compiled so far. I stuff my laptop in its case, and catch a glimpse of the pink vibrator sitting on the couch, right where I left it. I pack my things and head down the hallway with it tight in my hand. The images that fill my mind are dirty, but fuck, I love them.

I tap the door with the head of it and wait. After a few seconds, Viola opens the door and I’m pointing the pink cock right in her face.

“Forget something?” I ask, with a smirk.

“Rules.” She glares. “Stop. Breaking. Them.” Her voice isn’t as confident as it usually is I notice, as she rips the vibrator from my hand.

Right now, I want to break her.

“Don’t you know, some rules are meant to be broken?” My voice is silky smooth and my eyes roam down her body. I give a little nod toward her nipples that are begging to be sucked and flicked and she slams the door in my face.

On the other side of the door she screams. “Can you be any more cliché?”

I can’t hold back the smile as I walk into my room and climb into bed.

I’m getting to her. Eventually she’ll crack. Eventually I’ll find her limit.

I close my eyes and it takes no time before I fall asleep and even less time before my alarm is buzzing.

I do my normal workout routine, drive home and stand in the living room brushing my teeth with nothing on but dress pants. The sun hasn’t even risen yet and I feel more energized than I have in a while, though an annoyed buzz swarms inside my body. I’m actually dreading going to work today. It’s the first time that’s happened since I started.

Before walking back into my room, I stop in front of Drew’s door. I stand there for almost a minute before I open it and peek in. Viola is sleeping like the dead with her body sideways across the bed. I almost feel bad for staring at her while she sleeps, but it seems the only time I can without listening to her bitch.

“Travis,” she says in a light whisper and for a moment I think I’m busted. But the glow of the lava lamp Drew refuses to get rid of, gives her away. She’s asleep, whispering my name. If I had my phone on me I’d record it for evidence later, but I don’t. Instead, I finish getting dressed and head out the door. Before I make it to work, Alyssa is already blowing up my phone. Is it still considered sexual harassment when it’s the CEO’s daughter?

Fucking hell.

Can we meet this morning? ;) I can’t wait to see you.

I miss you.

We make a great team.

Damn it. I know what that wink means. The meeting isn’t to discuss our project, but rather for me to be her project. I sit in the car and listen to the mean growl of the engine as I decide what to text her. I’m walking a thin line that is becoming blurrier with each step forward.

Yeah, what time? I have a meeting with Blake at 10. I let out a huff.

The earlier the better. I’m feeling the urge. If you know what I mean.

I don’t like this. Your office or mine?

Mine. And I’ll be on my knees waiting for you when you enter.

And now my suspicions have been confirmed. Alyssa wants me to put in, but I don’t want to put out. Now to figure out how to break the news to her without fucking myself and this project in the process.

My annoyance must have been written all over my face because the administrative assistant actually asked me what was wrong when I walked by her this morning. I wasn’t in my usual flirty mood and didn’t say good morning to anyone because I know exactly how the day is going to play out.

I walk into my office, closing the door behind me, and stare at a blank computer screen with a bright green sticky note from The Office of Blake James. He wants to meet now instead of later. Fucking wonderful.

I don’t bother turning on my computer before I make my way down the hallway towards Blake’s office. His door is open and he’s busy pecking away at the computer with his pointer fingers. The dude needs to get with the times, but instead of making a slight-handed joke, I just stand in the doorway.

“Sit,” he demands, but continues to type.

I don’t say a word. Instead I sit in the big bulky office chair that’s most likely been in this building since the 1970s and I wait for him to finish. My patience for the day is quickly depleting with every second that passes.

“We need to discuss your new project,” he says with a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Okay.” I want to tell him to take the project for himself because I know that’s what he wants. While he’s my boss and I respect him because of his title, he’s one of those supervisors that want attention. He wants to be heard in a room full of people and tries to take credit for tasks he didn’t do. But people see through the facade and they talk, and what they are saying isn’t good. The corporate world is a fish tank full of sharks and if you don’t watch your back, it’s easy to get eaten alive. I’ve been crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s since the first day I stepped foot into his office.

“I don’t agree with you being assigned to it. I think you’re a hard worker and have a lot to offer the company, but...”

Usually when people say ‘but’, it’s to negate every positive thing that was said before. He continues on but I stop listening. The last thing I need is to be double pounded today. Alyssa in the front and Blake in the back, it’s miserable.

“...you’ll still be responsible for your current assignments. Sloan agreed that it was okay and that you could handle the marketing research along with your day-to-day tasks, after I spoke to him of course.”

At this point, I’m fuming. My workload has doubled, but my pay hasn’t. I grit my teeth and it takes everything I have to speak calmly. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

I’m fucking pissed, but try to push it back.

“I knew you’d be able to handle it,” Blake says, but I know his end game. It’s to smear my reputation and change the way the executives perceive me. He’s always pushed me, and has set me up for failure many times, but even with all the bitch work, I’ve proved him wrong. Since my first week at Crawford Marketing, he’s had it out for me. I know my confidence can be intimidating, but he can fuck off.

The conversation is clearly over so I stand and give him a shit-eating grin before I walk back to my office. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me spin out of control.

The best motivation is when someone says or insinuates that I can’t do something. I might be a fucking zombie by the end of the next quarter, but at least I’ll have kicked major ass and shown Sloan that I’m a hard worker in the process.

Nine o'clock rolls around and I’m tempted to cancel the meeting with Alyssa, but the truth is, I need to know what she’s completed and what she hasn’t. So after I send a few emails and try to rush through my normal duties, I stand, grab my laptop and stroll to her office. She’s the only one on our floor with a corner office that has windows that line an entire wall. There’s a small conference table and a couch. Why she needs all of the space, no one knows, and considering her title, she sure hasn’t earned any of it. The managers on the floor secretly hate her, but they put up with it because of who she is and the full helping of tits she provides each day. I’m surprised people don’t offer her twenty-dollar bills when she leaves the building for the show she puts on during business hours.

I walk in and close the door, and she’s sitting at her desk with her silk shirt unbuttoned, displaying her full breasts. I guess she came to work braless today. I’m sure all the women will be talking about her nipples in the break room over coffee. I almost laugh thinking about it.

“Hey baby,” she purrs as she takes a few steps forward. She’s a tigress on the prowl.

“Hey,” I say, but she can tell by my tone that I’m not having it today.

She pouts, sticking her bottom lip out and begins talking like a baby. “Oh no. Someone’s not happy. What can I do to help you?”

I grab her hand, knowing she’s waiting for me to touch her. “I’m sorry. I’m not having a good day.”

She places her other hand on the button of my pants and undoes it along with the zipper. “I know what will make you feel better.” Alyssa drops to her knees and runs her hand over my soft cock. Seeing her like this isn’t even making me hard. Great, Viola has officially broken my dick. Alyssa notices I’m not hard then stands and crosses her arms over her tits. Concern flashes over her face.

“What happened?” Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. “Who should I tell Daddy to fire?”

I tilt my head and look at her for a split-second, realizing she’s not as dumb as she pretends to be and maybe I’m the one being played all along. How the hell did I get myself into this situation? Usually I know a mark when I see one, but somehow I got it all wrong. Maybe I was her mark.

“I’m not having a good day. That’s it. I actually want to be alone. I’m sorry, baby. It’s not you. You know I think you’re gorgeous.” And she is a pretty girl. I’m not lying when I say that, but she’s not the pretty girl I want to fuck. I’ve been there and done that and the allure of having her is gone. For a moment, my thoughts travel back to Viola in the mudroom and I swallow hard, pushing those thoughts out of my head.

Alyssa buttons up her shirt and I zip and button my pants. Just as I do, Blake opens the door to her office as we are standing there, more than a foot apart, and completely dressed. Thank God.

“Yes? Can’t you see we are busy?” Alyssa snarls. I actually like the way she talks to him, but he pays her no attention and walks straight to me and hands me a stack of papers.

“Remember the project you did last week? Can you do that again for me? Today before you leave. I need it in the morning.”

“Do it yourself. Travis has enough work to do,” Alyssa says, taking the papers from my hands and shoving them back to Blake. I’m not sure what to say.

He opens his mouth and closes it before he says what he wants. He’s fuming, but I suppose he knows better than to mess with her. After another second, Blake slams the door and leaves us alone.

“Alyssa, that’s insubordination. I have to do whatever he asks.”

She grabs my tie and pulls me to her lips. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do, Travis. And I want that dick soon. Whenever you’re ready.” She pushes her lips against mine and I force myself to kiss her back. Relief washes over me and I know that I’ve bought myself some time, but I’m not sure how much.

We walk over to the oval table and I give her a rundown of what I’ve accomplished. To my surprise, Alyssa actually did her half. She’s not well rounded in foreign policies either and I almost verbatim tell her Viola told me. Our meeting ends on a positive note and I’m feeling a little better about our project with a little hope that she might actually pull her weight.

I grab a granola bar from the break room and decide to skip lunch.

When I return back to my office, two stacks of papers are sitting on my desk. There’s a note on the top, from the office of Blake James, and all it says is, have this done by the morning. Instead of giving me one, he doubled my workload, again.

I check the time and know that I’ll be here later than I want.

The rest of my day is fucked, just like I predicted it would be.

––––––––

VIOLA

The sun is setting over the horizon and I mark another day off my mental calendar. Only eleven more days and I’ll be back to my dorm, in my bed where there’s no Travis or rules or temptation. I’m actually looking forward to it, or so I’ve been telling myself between reading Economics and Finance books and trying to convince myself that Travis King is the plague. But all I can think about is how sexy he looks shirtless and how his tongue brushes against his lower lip right before he says something he knows he shouldn’t. Ugh!

Back in high school, Travis was part of the in-crowd. A jock, good-looking, always a too-good-for-you attitude. He’d smart off to the teachers, get sent to the principal's office, but rarely had to pay the consequences. Ms. Klein was a young principal and so I’m sure she didn’t mind having a guy like Travis in her office as often as he was sent there. Being the basketball team starter didn’t hurt either.

Needing a break from my thoughts, I decide to order a cheese pizza. As I’m waiting for the delivery to arrive, there’s a knock on the door. I check the peephole but the porch is empty. I think nothing of it and go back to reading. Just as I’ve finished reading another chapter, the doorbell rings again. This time it’s the pizza deliveryman and as soon as I hand him some cash, he bends down and picks up a small box with a cute little red bow on it.

“I think this is for you,” he says, placing it on top of the pizza box.

“Oh...thank you,” I say, staring at the box with confusion. He nods and walks back to his car.

I close the door behind me and place the pizza on the table. Staring at the box, I chew my lower lip, wondering who it could be for or who it’s from. There’s no tag or name on it and the more I stare at it, the deeper the temptation to open it is gets. I can’t even think about food anymore, because curiosity has gotten the best of me. I check my phone and see that it’s already after eight. Travis isn’t home yet, so maybe just a small peek?

I want to rip off the bow and see what’s inside. I pull the neatly tied ribbon from the package, but then hesitate for a split second before talking myself back into opening it. I tear the corner of the brown paper and push my finger under the tape and pop it from the box. Slowly, I unfold the flaps and inside lays a pair of lace panties and an envelope. I hook the panties on my finger and place them on the table hoping to not catch some sort of disease from them.  

I turn the envelope over and see the words To My Baby written on the front. My heart hammers in my chest as I peel it open. I’m certain this gift isn’t for me and I should stop, but the rational part of me isn’t strong enough to look away, especially if it’s from one of Travis’ bimbos.

I pull a handful of pictures from the envelope and begin flipping through them.

“Oh, my God...” I murmur to myself, unable to look away. They’re all of the same busty blonde, posing naked on a large bed in only a pair of bold red heels. Realization sets in that I recognize her, which really isn’t surprising considering how many of Travis’ one-night stands I’ve come face-to-face with as he not-so-casually kicked them out.

Except the more I stare at her features, the flash of recognition isn’t from meeting her at the house.

The girl from his office...she was walking out of his office one of the days I brought him lunch. The longer I think about it, the more I remember. Had I walked in five seconds sooner, I’m almost positive I would’ve witnessed something that would’ve scarred me for life.

I notice she changes her poses in each photo, but leaves nothing to the imagination. Toward the end of the stack, there’s a series of photos with her and a guy who’s face is shielded.

Against my better judgment, I bring the picture closer and immediately recognize the ink layered on his arm.

They’re of her and...Travis.

I swallow, feeling a huge lump in my throat.

The photos with him aren’t Polaroid’s like the others, almost grainy, as if printed from a security camera, and upon closer inspection, I see she’s written on the back—Alyssa + Travis.

The lump in my throat grows larger as I put the pieces together in my head. He’s been driving me absolutely wild, touching me, kissing me, crossing every boundary I’ve set in place and he’s been messing around with this Alyssa girl from his work giving her the same hope I once felt.

Except that hope had resurfaced and all those feelings back from when I was only twelve years old were recurring.

The photos fall out of my hands and scatter across the table and floor like a deck of cards, landing face up. Alyssa stares up at me with her piercing green eyes, as if she’s telling me something. An unspoken message that she’s claiming Travis as hers.

I stand frozen, looking over the photos and feeling numb. I never should’ve opened it.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I need to eat. I open the pizza box, knowing my appetite has fled the scene, but I force myself to take a few bites. I sit at the table and try not to look at the blonde bombshell with her legs wide open, showing everything she has to offer. I grab one and flip it over, then another, and another, and realize words are written on the back of each picture.

All for you.

Wet for you, baby.

Love the way you taste.

Forget Viola. You’re mine.

I almost choke on the piece of pizza I’m chewing. Why the hell does she know my name? Or know of me at all?

I flip over the last one that reads, The other night was perfect!

I flip it back over to her making kissy lips as she blows one to the camera. What the hell? The other night? Which other night? The night when I lost myself to his touch? The other night when he undressed me and put me in bed? The other night when he went all caveman about Jason? The same night he smelled like another woman’s perfume?

It suddenly begins to all make sense.

Just when I think I’m finally cracking into him, something like this happens, and I’m reminded of who he really is—a player who has a different woman for each day of the week. The feelings have never been mutual and he’s always made that very clear.

It takes me back to our teenage years when all I wanted was him, while he was out having everyone else. I should’ve never romanticized the thought of him or allowed him to touch me. The images of him with her makes me sick to my stomach. It’s a familiar feeling that I know all too well.

Hurt and anger boil inside me as I think of the way I felt back then and how I feel it again.

It’s because I know panties and pictures aren’t something a one-night stand sends to a doorstep as a gift. Travis is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to mess around with a girl at work when he knows it could jeopardize everything he’s worked for, but maybe that’s giving him too much credit. We’re talking about Travis King—thinks only with his dick in mind and nothing else.

I grab my cell and snap a single picture of the images scattered across the table and send him a text. You disgust me, Travis.

I turn off my phone before he can send a reply because I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to care anymore. As I sit at the table and stare at the blank wall, I remember being so in love with him. I was a stupid girl with a stupid crush, but even then, I deserved more.

When Travis started dating, I felt like my insides were being ripped into a million little pieces. I couldn’t stand to hear the girl’s name, and I didn’t want to see them together. So I made it my mission to avoid him as much as possible. I thought I was strong enough to play his game, but I’m only allowing myself to get hurt again. For just a small fraction of time, in some fucked-up sort of way, I thought I was maybe more than just another notch on his “girls I made come” bedpost.

I place the pizza box in the fridge and leave my books where they are. After turning off all the lights, I go straight into Drew’s room and lock the door. I shouldn’t give two shits about what or who Travis does, and starting now, I’ll avoid him just like old times. It’s better for me that way, even if that means hanging out in the coffee shop that’s close to campus until bedtime.

There’s only eleven more days left of spring break but I’m one heartache away from packing my bags and staying with my Mom and her boyfriend. Then he can have all the wild sex he wants and I won’t be around to be a witness. I learned long ago that it’s better to face your problems than to run from them. But just because I’m facing Travis doesn’t mean I have to talk to him.

No more games.

No more being nice.

He’s officially cut off.

The old familiar feelings–jealousy and hatred–linger, and the realization that we could never be just friends sets in. I was stupid to even consider it could be a possibility. I hoped things would be different, but that’ll never happen, and I hate him even more for giving me hope and then snatching it away.