For the next two days I don’t get so much as a glimpse of my boss. I don’t see him at all. The strange emptiness inside me without him around is disconcerting. The day is only worth getting through with the active prospect of him popping up beside me and making my heart detonate. Otherwise it’s like I’m sitting in that little box breathlessly waiting with my heart skittering up and down my ribs.

Is this what they mean by infatuation? It’s actually painful in my lungs. Every time I inhale my chest feels as though it’s bandaged tight as a concubine’s feet.

The thought that my boss might put his big hands on my hips and pulls me hard into his pelvis sends shivers through me all day long.

Am I falling for my boss because he gave me some attention?

Because he spent a few thousand on an outfit. To him that money is like me buying a bum a soda. Maybe I’m addicted to the thrill of flirting with him. He may be older but he’s the sexiest and most decadently handsome dude I’ve ever seen.

I can’t resist stopping by Janice’s desk on some dumb query pretext. To check whether he’s out of the office or if he’s there and just avoiding me.

“Is Hopper not in again today?” I inquire casually, trying to get a peek between the closed blinds on his window wall.

“Mister Grady is at meetings. Not that it should be of interest to you,” she snarls but not unkindly, just letting me know to back way off.

“Well Mister told me to do some shopping for him so it’s not so unlikely that I should want to see him.”

Yeah. She looks surprised at that. I bet she thought she was the only one with access to his exceptional line of credit.

“You did the shopping he requested of you,” she says, meaning my suitable-for work outfit. “Have you not returned his card?”

“Don’t worry,” I say breezily as I walk away. “Hopper and I have it taken care of.”

She opens her mouth to give me some order, for sure about the appropriate name I should use for my boss, but I’m already out of earshot and she won’t shout across the office.

I feel kind of bad as I strut back to my cubicle. I guess I’m acting like a power junkie. Like I’ve got one up on the assistant because the boss has shown an interest in me. I wonder if she knows it’s not only clothes he’s buying. He’s also buying me, or my company at least while I act the part of the girlfriend for the summer. Would he have shared that with her? All so he can fend off the adoring husband-hunters, or their mothers.

I throw myself into my chair and push some paper around the top of my desk, but I can’t concentrate. I’m half expecting Hopper to come down the hall and flash me his one-side-only dimpled smile over top of my cubicle wall. Every time I go for a coffee refill, my body is on a knife edge of expectation, hoping he’ll appear and take me in his powerful hold again as he clamps my mouth under his.

Sitting at my desk, my mind wanders away and I picture, oh so clearly Hopper calling me into his office. Without listening to my protestations which would be tepid at best, he’d press me across his desk and drag my skirt up my legs. My fingers would grip the edges of the desk, turning white at the tips as the blood rushed out. I’d dig in, maybe even heel-toe my feet apart a little more as he yanked my underwear down my legs.

Underwear.

I’m still wearing prison issue smalls which do absolutely nothing to promote my filthy fantasies.

“Tyler, I’m going to lunch in case anyone needs me,” I call to the earnest and slender guy in the cubicle over the wall from mine.

“It’s not even eleven yet, Grace,” he replies.

But I’m already heading for the elevator. I lift my hand to wave back at him without turning, or stopping. I have shopping to do.

The girls inside talked about Victoria’s Secret Pink as their underwear of choice. There was a very strict code of what uniform to wear if you wanted to be cool and when I say cool, I mean unbruised. Nike sneakers, Juicy Couture tracksuits, skinny jeans and VS. I locate the Broadway store on my phone and take the bus as Janice recommended yesterday. I feel pretty good, navigating around the greatest city in the world by myself.

One look around the store tells me this won’t do for Hopper Grady. This stuff is fake sexy and he’ll see through that in a second. Now what? A quick browse and I locate a store within prowling distance. I’m determined that my boss will never again see me in grungy underoos. Why I’m planning for the time he does see me that undressed again, I push that to the back of my mind.

The next store is like some secret bondage club. Or at least how I imagine one would look, painted entirely in black and with huge chandeliers. The prices for a tiny piece of silk satin with lace edged cut outs is comfortingly astronomical. Hopper would be proud. I grab the hottest pieces from the displays and dive into the change room.

Then I repeat the process at some of the other stores on Elizabeth Street and around Soho, ending up in Prada for a suitable purse. Any slightly raised eyebrows or snotty stares from the assistants are soon erased when I hand over my boss’s black Amex.

“My boyfriend’s card,” I mutter. Just in case they assume I stole it. She doesn't even eyeball me with a ‘you’re lying’ stare. And strictly speaking I’m not because the deal with Hopper is that I’m his girlfriend for the summer.

Geezus. I’m finding it impossible to get used to spending this kind of fortune on snippets of material that could be ruined in one night if I fall down drunk. Or if Hopper literally rips the fabric off my body as I wish he would, despite all my best intentions. But worse than that, I can’t relax and enjoy this without the little voice inside the deep recess of my mind trying to tell me everyone thinks I’m guilty. Bad. I can’t be the Black Sheep of the entire city. I can’t own all that responsibility.

Pretty soon I’m going to have my own money to spend so I better get used to it. Not that I’ll be blowing it on this kind of stuff. I’m going to save and invest in property like a smart girl, not blow it all on fripperies to entertain a man. He wants the candy he can damn well pony up for it.

Shit, it’s past five when I emerge from the last store. I have to get back to the office. Although with Hopper out all day, no one else is likely to have even missed me. But it would be just my luck for old commandant Cynthia, my social worker to stop by to check up on my progress.

And to make sure that I’m keeping my nose clean. Not getting into trouble with unsavory types, no drinking, whatever else. I’ll have to ask her whether that includes no fine champagne at fancy weddings. Or no being manhandled in the office by the boss.

Goody Boy Tyler is still at his desk when I return, trying to look eager and ready for management. He gives me a filthy look when I stroll in laden with gorgeous shopping bags, the kind with thick silken handles that you want to keep sitting out on display forever.

“Any messages?” I tease as I plop back down at my desk.

He ignores me, or pretends he didn’t hear. I don’t care. I’m not here to make lifelong friends. As soon as I get my money I’ll take off. Maybe Europe. Or Bali. Somewhere I’m not vilified and humiliated at every turn.

Having shown my face, I decide it’s safe to leave the building again. This time I go via Hopper’s office. Janice stares at all the bags I’m clutching in my fists, so many they knock into the walls as I approach.

“Mr Grady will be in the office from noon to one thirty tomorrow,” she says. My heart lifts off like an Olympic diver off a board hearing his name mentioned. “He asked to see you. That’s not a request,” she adds.

“Ya, okay,” I squeak, as though it’s just another meeting with the boss. “Have a good night.”

As soon as I get home, I delve into my bags and slip into the bra and pantie set with the perfectly hidden openings, just right for a thick finger or two. I admire myself in the small mirror attached to the wall with cement. Truly, I don’t look too bad.

I could almost pass for pretty but I still don’t understand why Hopper picked me out of all the women in this city. Then I tear open the silver vibrator I bought, insert the batteries and lie back on the bed. I spread my legs and pass the buzzing head across my aching clit, making my body clench with the intensity of need I’m still trying to restrain.