Chapter Two - Anthony

My office has been like a second home for years, so watching the movers take it apart, box by box, is a strange experience. I’ve spent a lot of time in this room with its giant sun-soaked windows looking down at the busy Manhattan streets below – its lush blue carpeting and its expensive imported furniture. The furniture is going with me, but everything else is about to be totally different. I have to fight the urge to tell the movers to box things differently, the urge to jump and do it myself. I’ve paid them too much money for that, and even if I never would have stacked boxes in that order, or used that size box for the files . . .  They’re highly recommended. They’re supposed to be the best.

I’m grateful for the distraction when my secretary, Natalie, approaches me, smiling.

“I was hoping you had time for a private goodbye,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. I grin. Natalie and I have had sex several times in the past year or so – incredibly casual and with no strings. In most offices, that might be frowned upon, but since this office, this whole business, is entirely mine, there is no one to tell me or Natalie that we can’t have some fun every once in a while.

“I think I might,” I say, letting my eyes traverse Natalie’s body. She’s looking extra sexy today, and I grin. She’s always sexy, always perfectly groomed, dressed in skirts that flatter her curves. Today is no exception. The heels she wears make her legs look as if they go on for miles, and her hair is pulled back on top of her head, exposing the tempting skin of her shoulders and neck to me.

“Excellent,” Natalie says, walking toward the boardroom, swinging her hips as she does.

She closes the door behind us and wastes no time putting her hands on me, going for my belt buckle. I run my hands up her thighs, sliding them under her skirt and rubbing at her clit through the fabric of her panties. She’s already soaking wet.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” she says, bucking at my touch. “About giving you a memorable send-off.” She undoes my belt buckle and then steps back, sitting on the edge of the boardroom table. She lifts her hips up and slides her underwear off, raising a challenging eyebrow at me as she does. I’m already hard, uncomfortable against my pants, as I step toward her.

“Good,” I say. I pull my pants down to my knees, stroking my cock a few times. Her eyes are on me, and she’s licking her lips. “A conference room fuck for the road?”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” she says. She spreads her legs wide and slides her own fingers over her clit, slowly, holding my eyes.

“Me too,” I say, stepping all the way in between her legs. She gasps and nods, putting her head on my neck as I run my fingers through her wetness. I take my cock in my hand and guide it inside her. She lets out a muffled shout into my neck and grips my shoulders tightly as I start to fuck her, hard and fast.

“God, yes,” she says, wrapping her legs around me and pulling me in closer. She’s warm and wet around me. I think I needed this today, needed this release. I put my hands on her thighs, squeezing them as I continue to fuck her. She’s still gasping into my neck, biting out curses. We’ve done this enough times that I know what she likes, what she wants, and what she responds to. Natalie likes these hard and fast fucks, these ones that are a little dangerous, that come with a little risk.

I enjoy it too, get off on the thrill of it. It’s my office, so the risk isn’t actually very high, but the idea of fucking a secretary in the conference room is still hot, even if this is far from this first time.

She digs her fingers into my shoulders and screams into my neck as she comes, and I come inside her several strokes later. She unwraps her legs from around me, and we both breathe heavily, silent for a bit.

“Good luck in . . .  is it Arizona?” Natalie asks, after a minute, as she shifts her skirt back down over her hips.

“Alabama,” I say, shaking my head.

“I can’t imagine a man like you in a small town in the south,” Natalie says. She moves her hands to her hair, fixing the pins in it as we talk.

“I grew up there, and I think it will be good for my son,” I say. It’s what I’ve been telling everyone, and it’s mostly the truth. My son, David, has never been outside of New York. I do think it will be good for him to be around my family and to have space to run around.

“Well, we’ll miss you around here,” Natalie says, shaking her head.

“I’ll be around through video chat,” I say, and Natalie laughs, standing up and walking towards me as she does.

“Won’t be the same,” she says.

“I think you’ll be surprised. I need to go check on the movers,” I say. I consider saying I’ll keep in touch with her personally, or that she could come visit me, or even that we could get a drink next time I am back in town. We would both know it would be a lie, that I’ll never do those things. So I don’t say it or anything else. I pull Natalie into a quick hug and then head back to my office.

It’s empty now, and the boxes standing in the corners look out of place already. I shake my head, looking around again at everything I’ve built here.

“Never thought you’d leave the city,” Todd says, coming up and clapping me on the shoulder.

“I always told you I might someday,” I say. Todd is one of the first people I brought on board, and we’ve survived a lot of happy hours and networking events together. He’s one of the people that make me so confident in my ability to run things remotely.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” Todd says.

“It’s best for David,” I say. “We’ll be around my family.”

“Do you ever hear from . . . ” Todd starts and then stops. I frown, knowing what he was going to ask. Todd knows has been around long enough that he remembers David’s mother, Michelle.

“Rarely,” I say. Michelle was from California, and I hadn’t met her family until her funeral. There had been plans for them to come out to meet David when he was born, but after she died, they’d never made it to New York. Sometimes her mom still calls and talks about wanting to spend time with David, maybe take him in for a week in the summer, but so far, nothing has come of it. I send pictures of David and scans of his art because it’s what Michelle would have wanted, but I don’t go out of my way to keep them updated or tell them stories about his life. They’ve never asked for them or really reached out to me, either. I hope that one day it’s better, that David can be closer to his mother’s parents, but for now they’re barely more than strangers to him.

It’s been almost five years since Michelle died, and I’ve spent a lot more time telling myself it’s been okay than it actually has been. I’ve worked harder, nearly doubling my fortune while expanding the company. I’ve taken out countless beautiful women and told myself I’ve been enjoying every moment of it. Lately, I’ve been thinking it’s not true because I’m not happy. I’ve been using work and sex to fill how fucking lonely and bored I’ve been since Michelle died, and it’s making me miserable.

I don’t think it’s good for me, or David, to stay here any longer. He needs to see people who aren’t just me and the few nannies he’s had. He needs a father who is thinking clearly. I don’t know if going home will help or if it will actually make me any happier, but I feel like I’ve hit a wall and I need to do something. I feel like if I stay here, I’ll keep doing the same things: bringing women to bars and hotel rooms, throwing myself into work. No amount of money in the bank or nights of incredible sex have helped me at all.

“They’re far away no matter where you are, though, right? So I guess it wouldn’t make a difference to them,” Todd says, bringing me out of my thoughts. I haven’t told anyone about any of my reasons for moving home – the reasons that have nothing to do with David – and I don’t plan to. David is reason enough.

“And I have family who can’t wait to spoil him,” I say, smirking, thinking of the pictures my mom has already sent of things she’s bought him.

“How much more spoiled can the only child of a billionaire be?” Todd asks.

“You’d be surprised,” I say. In my office, a mover picks up the last box and carries it out. The office is empty now, and I’m glad. I’m ready. It’s time to go home.