CHAPTER TWO
Working for Syngex Incorporated was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Aside from having to walk a quarter mile every morning to get Mister Kemble's coffee, there wasn't anything about the job I detested. Even that I managed to make less miserable by sneaking into a pair of tennis shoes whenever I got downstairs. While I wasn't sure if Jack would approve, if he couldn't see me, then what did it matter.
The blonde squad didn't seem to be warming up to me, but I didn't care about that too much. They were all a bunch of elitist bitches anyway, each one thinking they were better than the next. I listened to them chatter on break about where they had gone to college, the influential men that they were bedding, their rich parents or spouses or boyfriends. Money and fashion and sex and the high life seemed to be all they cared about. That was far removed from what I cared about. I just wanted to get from one day to the next without tripping over my own feet. Heck, I was still hoping they wouldn't notice I was wearing the same outfit every other day, which I was sure they did. The looks they gave me said it all. They knew I wasn't one of them.
Apparently, my fear was well merited. By the time Friday came around, Jack Kemble was calling me into his office for a meeting about my wardrobe. “Didn't you wear that outfit on Wednesday?” he began, arching an eyebrow as he looked me up and down.
“So you noticed, huh?” I was completely mortified. More than likely, one of the girls turned me in. Jack didn't seem like a master of observation. After all, he had so many women to watch over.
“You should be wearing a different outfit every day of the week,” he told me, making me feel even more like shit. “Preferably a new one every day of the month. I like my employees looking fresh.”
The condescension was quickly making me upset. Did he even know how bad that sounded? It was like he thought I was filthy.
“If you remember, my past experience is mostly with restaurants. I've never had any need for fancy business attire,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Well, you'll need it here,” Jack replied dismissively, keeping his nose in a stack of paperwork on his desk.
“Unless I can magic some new outfits out of thin air, then I suppose you'll just have to wait until I get a few paychecks. Having a roof over my head is preferable to pleasing you, no offense,” I snapped and then instantly regretted it. This should be the point where I was given my pink slip. Why couldn't I keep my damn mouth shut? Seriously though, what did he expect me to do? Jack knew I didn't even have enough money to pay rent. How could he possibly think I could afford more clothing?
He paused for a moment, thinking. “See me at the end of the day.”
“Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that.” I quickly tried to salvage the situation.
“I'm very busy right now, Miss Strayer. Please come see me before you leave today.” Jack didn't bother looking up at me, and I knew I was done for. Was there even any point in waiting until the end of the day?
Defeated, I sulked as I walked out of his office. The blondes gave me knowing stares, and one of them even smirked as if she'd heard the entire conversation. I wanted to punch her right in her perfect face, but the last thing I needed was a trip to jail to accentuate my bad day.
The rest of the morning was a mental battle over whether to stay or go. At the end of the day, I would be fired, so why should I stick around. Life was over as I knew it. When I got home, I would be forced to pack and leave. I couldn't string Mandy on any longer. A promise was a promise.
The only thing keeping me in the office was thoughts of a larger paycheck. Whether Jack wanted to or not, he would have to pay me for the time spent there. And for as miserable as I was waiting for my impending doom, I knew I needed the money, though I wasn't sure how much good it would do me.
I performed my menial duties with all the enthusiasm as someone about to lose their job. When I was required to make inner office calls, I was rude to everyone I spoke to. The correspondences I typed up weren't spell or grammar checked. I even skipped making one of Jack's dinner reservations. While I felt it was a bold thing to do, I was sure one of the blondes would catch it. They were watching me like a hawk every step of the way, waiting for me to screw up. Did they know I already had?
Finally, five o'clock rolled around. Reluctantly, I waited at my desk while everyone else took their leave for the afternoon. Jack would emerge from his office soon to give his parting words, and then I would go find a bar and a drunk guy to bum drinks off of. It was one of those days.
Patience wasn't one of my virtues though, and after sticking around until five fifteen with no sign of Jack, I decided I would just leave. Fuck him. I didn't need to endure a dismissive condescending bullshit speech. My day had been bad enough, and besides, we both already knew what he was going to say anyway.
Not wanting to waste gas, I decided to change into my tennis shoes and walk down the street a ways. Whatever bar I came to should suffice. They all had the same kinds of guys in them, guys who like buying pretty girls a drink. And if they didn't, then my afternoon would only be that much worse. It wasn't uncommon for my shit sandwiches to get a few extra helpings before the day was through.
After walking a few blocks, I finally came to a bar that looked like it had a decent mix of young guys and businessmen. Now it was just scouting the area for the one who would most likely buy for me. It wasn't long before I saw a group of college guys staring at me from their table, making perverted jests and laughing in their beers. Using my best model walk, I strode over to them, leaning on their table so that my cleavage was well exposed.
“Hey guys,” I flirted, but before I could get another word out my phone rang, distracting me from the task at hand. Annoyed, I flipped it open, pulling a chair out to seat myself at the table. The boys awkwardly greeted me, not seeming to mind my presence while they waited for me to get off the phone.
“Where'd you go?” Jack Kemble inquired on the other end of the line. I could feel my anger rising just from the sound of his voice.
“To a bar down the street,” I replied.
“Which one?”
“Shenanigans.”
“I'll be there in a minute.”
Before I had a chance to ask why, I heard the phone disconnect. Exasperated, I groaned, pulling myself up out of the chair to push it back in under the table.
“Hey, where are you going?” one of the guys asked.
“Sorry. I have to go deal with something. I'll come back if you guys are still here when I'm done,” I promised, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Did Jack Kemble want to fire me so badly he'd come do it in person? I wondered. It would be a really dick move, especially to fire me publicly. If that was his plan, then I wouldn't hesitate to give him a piece of my mind. At least, the display would probably earn me some sympathy drinks.
My stomach was a ball of nerves as I crawled up onto a bar stool in front of the bar, staring straight ahead as if I were afraid to lay eyes on Jack. The bartender came by to ask if I wanted anything to drink, reminding me of how poor I was.
It took about fifteen minutes before Jack arrived. I hadn't actually seen him walk in, but as soon as he spoke, I knew his voice. “Do you normally drink water when you go to a bar, or is that just a really tall glass of vodka?”
“I wish it was the latter of the two,” I admitted, still refusing to look at Jack. Let's just get this done and over with, I thought. Prolonging it only made me more anxious.
“Bad day?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I sipped my water, trying to keep conversation short.
“Well, if you want, I'll take you out drinking after we're done. You probably don't want to drink beforehand.”
“What are you talking about?” I turned my eyes to him finally, giving a confused look.
“I thought I would take you shopping.” Jack smiled warmly at me.
“Shopping?”
“Yeah. Consider it a sign-on bonus.”
“A sign-on bonus,” I repeated, thinking. Part of me wanted to smile, but the other part of me was angry. Like usual, I had blown things out of proportion—imagined a scenario that wasn't real. He had never intended to fire me in the first place. And now, I had made him have to come find me, which couldn't possibly look good.
“That isn't necessary,” I said meekly.
“But it is. I can't have you walking around my office wearing the same thing every other day. It doesn't look right.”
“No one sees me but you and the blonde squad.”
“The blonde squad?” Jack laughed, though I didn't find it funny at all. “People in the elevator see you. People in the parking lot see you. People on the street see you, and they see you coming into my building.”
“I get it,” I sighed. What he was getting at was that I was an embarrassment to his company. It made my blood boil, but I knew better than to say anything. “Shopping. Alright, let's go.” I pushed away from the bar.
To my surprise, Jack had walked to the bar, the same as I had. The trek back to the office was long and filled with awkward silent. Only once did he speak to me when he looked down at my shoes to say, “I want you wearing your heels when you go to get me coffee in the mornings.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him.
Once we got to the parking garage, Jack led me to his black Escalade. We crawled inside and buckled up before taking off down the ramp.
“I'm surprised you don't have a chauffeur,” I commented, trying to make conversation.
“I usually only have one when I'm going somewhere important or somewhere I need to be recognized or feel safe.”
“Oh.”
“So, how are you liking the job so far?”
“It's easy enough.”
“How are the girls treating you?”
“They don't talk to me, which is fine. I come here to work, not to socialize.”
“If only more people felt that way.”
We drove to Fifth Avenue where Jack walked me up and down the street, in and out of stores, dressing me up like a real-life doll and loading down our arms with shopping bags. It felt strange to shop with a man like that. He hand-picked every single outfit and forced me to try them all on, scrutinizing me once I came out of the dressing room. If the fit wasn't perfect, he'd send me back in with something else. By the time we were finished shopping, Jack had spent well over three thousand dollars on me, and I was absolutely exhausted.
“That was a work out,” I commented when we climbed back into the car, trying not to make it sound like a complaint.
“It was necessary,” he told me, still sounding condescending.
“So what if I quit tomorrow?” I turned to look at him, trying to get a reaction.
“You won't quit tomorrow,” he replied, deadpan.
“How do you know?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Because tomorrow is Saturday. You'd have to wait until Monday to quit.”
I thought about saying I could always quit that very moment, but talking about quitting made me uncomfortable, and I was already regretting bringing it up in the first place. The last thing I needed was to make Jack paranoid that I'd leave, especially after he spent so much money on me.
When I realized we weren't heading back to Syngex, I asked where we were going.
“To a bar,” he replied simply.
“I don't really feel like drinking,” I told Jack. The afternoon had already been tense and awkward enough as it was.
“Well I do, and I think you at least owe me your company.”
He had me there. There was no way I could back out after all he had done for me. Spending the afternoon with my boss wasn't how I had envisioned my Friday night, though I would have just stayed home otherwise.
After the way Jack had treated me since taking me on as his employee, I no longer feared him hitting on me. All the kindness of Jim had faded away, and the professionalism of Jack had taken over. If he said he just wanted my company, I would believe him and do my best not to be a Debbie downer.
I honestly had no idea how I was supposed to entertain him though. We had absolutely nothing in common. Jack was famous and successful with a perfect life and everything he wanted, while I was poor and barely scraping along, mooching off my best friend and the good grace of Jack's charity. Thinking about it made me feel like crap. It seemed like I was indebted to everyone I knew with no way to pay them back.
To my surprise, we pulled up to a little hole in the wall. The parking lot was sparse, and Jack's Escalade stuck out like a sore thumb. This was definitely not a place I would think was Jack Kemble approved.
He led me inside where a homely looking older female bartender greeted us before we went to slide into a booth. She was at our table to take our drink order before I had even figured out what I wanted.
“I'll have a martini, shaken not stirred,” Jack said before looking over to me.
“I'll have a DosXX, dressed, please.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
“I didn't figure you for a beer drinker.” Jack seemed amused.
“What did you figure me for then?”
“I thought you'd like fruity cocktails.”
“I do every once in a while. Beer is cheap though.”
“Not DosXX. It's an import.”
“Should I have gotten Budweiser?” I asked quizzically. Was he guilting me out for ordering a more expensive beer too?
“No. You should get whatever you want.”
“Well then, I guess we can both be happy then. I got what I wanted.” I didn't know what else to say.
“Getting what you want is a good thing.”
“Indeed.”
“So what do you want, out of life, I mean?”
“Hm.” I paused for a moment. “I think I just want to be able to get by every month without struggling.”
“You're not dreaming very big.”
“I like to keep my dreams realistic. Besides, the time for dreaming big is over.”
“What makes you say that?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Well.” I felt suddenly nervous, not knowing how to answer. Should I tell him that I didn't have any aspirations? That I thought thirty was too old to be going back to college? Anything I said would sound stupid, and he'd probably have a counter for it.
Thankfully, the bartender came to deliver our drinks, distracting Jack from the question. He thanked her and handed her his credit card to open a tab. In all honesty, I was a bit surprised. I figured we'd just have one friendly drink and then head back to the office. By the looks of it, Jack planned on sticking around for a while.
“Do you drink a lot?” I asked, feeling embarrassed by the question as soon as it left my mouth.
“No more than most people do.” He smirked, and the room lit up around him. Was it the dim lighting making Jack look so attractive? I hadn't been this close to him since the day we had coffee together. It felt like that had been eons ago though—another life, another time.
“Sorry, that probably sounded rude.”
“No, it's fine. You're nervous aren't you?”
Was it that obvious? “A bit,” I admitted.
“Don't be. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. Sometimes it will be stuffy, and I'll have to play the part of the stern boss. Other times it will be casual like this.
“Outside of the office, I want you to think of me as a friend. I'd like to be someone who you can turn to . . . for anything. If you're ever in trouble and need help, you can call me. Or if you ever just want someone to talk to. I'm a pretty nice guy once you get to know me.”
Jim was coming back. I could see him again behind Jack's kind eyes. It was like Jekyll and Hyde, and I now understood who I could expect to see when.
“Alright, Mister Kemble.” I nodded.
“Jack,” he corrected me. “When we're alone like this, it's just Jack.”
“Alright, Jack.” A warm tingling swirled in the pit of my stomach from using his name. How many people were allowed to call Jack Kemble casually by his first name? It sounded alien to me—almost like I was doing something wrong by saying it.
“So, tell me about your living arrangements. You said that you were worried about losing your apartment.”
I explained my relationship with Mandy, how she had gone to bat for me every time her father had told her to kick me out. Mandy would be thrilled to know Jack asked about her, so I tried to paint her in the best light possible. Not like there was any other light to paint her in. She had been my savior for the past two years, and she deserved all the praise I could give.
“She sounds like an outstanding young woman,” he said.
“She really is.”
“Perhaps you'll introduce us sometime.”
“I think she'd like that.” I smiled, wondering if it would even realistically be a possibility. Mandy would go crazy if she ever got to meet Jack Kemble. It was amusing to imagine the excitement on her face. Of course, even that I was probably over playing. Mandy would be reserved enough to keep poised, I was sure. But inside, she'd be screaming like a school girl.
We drained our drinks and ordered another round. The more I drank, the less awkward I felt around Jack. He really wasn't that bad once you got him alone, like any other normal person. Maybe if I drank enough, I could even pretend he wasn't my boss.
“So why isn't there a Mrs. Kemble?” I asked, the alcohol making me braver than normal.
Jack's face darkened, and I knew I had struck a chord. “There was going to be . . . but she left me for another man.”
“Ouch. Sorry I asked.” I winced sympathetically.
“It's fine. As you've probably heard, I'm not really the marriage type anyway.” He brushed it off.
“I have heard some things.” I smirked.
“Oh, have you now?” He looked at me, his interest piqued. The room suddenly became hot. Of course Jack would be curious after I said something like that. “So what have you heard?”
“I'd rather not say.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I'm not sure if you'd consider it bad or not?”
“Well, I won't know until you tell me.”
I hesitated. “I've just heard that you're a bit of a playboy.”
He guffawed. “Who hasn't heard that about me? I thought you were going to tell me something I didn't know.” He took a long sip of martini, grinning all the while. “You know, I never actually wanted to marry. My engagement was set up for me a long time ago. I'm kind of glad it didn't work out.”
“Well, if it wouldn't have made you happy, then I'm glad it didn't work out too.”
“What about you? I haven't seen a ring on your finger, so I'm assuming there's no Mister Strayer lurking about.”
“No.” My stomach rolled in a ball of nerves. I didn't really feel like talking about my romantic relationships, or lack there of.
“No boyfriend either?” Came the next predictable question.
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I'm a lesbian.” It was the only thing I could think of that would kill any possibility Jack would hit on me.
“A lipstick lesbian.” He observed. “I like lesbians.”
“Most men do.” Now things were getting awkward. Why had I said that? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“So, no girlfriend then?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I'm not really looking for a relationship?”
“Then you're a playboy too . . . or playgirl?” Jack scrunched up his face in thought, looking absolutely adorable. It was obvious the alcohol was beginning to kick in.
“Nope. I'm big into relationships, being monogamous and all. I'm just not interested in one right now. My life is too unstable.”
“Perhaps when you've settled down then?”
“Perhaps.”
“I can drink to that.” He sloppily raised his glass to clink it against my beer, and I couldn't help but giggle.
“So, what about you? You don't ever want to get married?”
“Lord no. Not until I'm old and my looks start to fade. We're young. We should live like we are. There are too many beautiful women out there to settle down with just one.”
“There are many beautiful women out there,” I agreed. “But finding that one is like finding the diamond in the rough. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. Truly compatible people are a rarity, like finding a hundred-dollar bill when you're walking down the street. You need to grab the opportunity and never let it go.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I can't tell if you're trying to sound like a romantic, or if you're comparing finding the perfect person to stealing. If you find money on the street, it might belong to someone nearby who accidentally dropped it.”
“It might. And if it does and that person comes back to it, then it was never yours in the first place. Even hundred-dollar bills belonged to someone else first. But if no one claims it, then I see nothing wrong with taking it.”
“This conversation is getting a bit convoluted. And love isn't one of my favorite subjects, to be frank.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“I don't know. I don't think so. My life has always been lived in the fast lane. There was never really any time to delve into relationships that deeply. Sure, there were some women I preferred over others, but I wouldn't call it love.”
“What about your fiance?”
“We didn't spend a whole lot of time together either, but that's a story I don't really feel like getting into.”
“Apologies for asking you so many things that make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It's fine. Let's just move on from the subject. I tried to once already, but you drug us back into it.”
“Alright, something else then,” I said, though I couldn't think of anything to talk about of interest or that wouldn't offend him or bore me. Apparently, Jack couldn't come up with a subject either, and after a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence, we both finished our drinks, and he suggested we leave.
When we got back to Syngex, he insisted on calling me a cab. I hadn't had that many drinks, but I knew Jack wouldn't let me refuse his offer. Safety first and all. While we waited for the cab to arrive, we transferred all the shopping bags from his car to mine. They filled up the entire trunk and even spilled over into the backseat. Jack assured me they'd be safe locked away in my car in the parking garage. As we were transferring them over, he picked an outfit for me to wear the following day and put it in a separate bag that I was required to take home. The friendliness between us had faded. Jekyll had turned to Hyde, and Jack was my boss again.
In the morning, Mandy asked where I had gotten the new outfit from, knowing I had no money of my own. When I told her that Jack had bought it for me, she gave me accusing eyes.
“I didn't sleep with him,” I insisted, but I knew she didn't believe me.
If I had more time, I would have told Mandy about how Jack had said he was interested in meeting her, but I was already running late, and I still had to call a taxi to take me to work since I had left my car there. It was a mad dash to get to my desk on time, and then I was being sent back downstairs again for Jack's coffee. This was my least favorite part of the job, but I'd do it with a smile because of everything Jack had done for me, including paying for the taxi to bring me back to work.
The week trudged on, and I was finally beginning to settle into my job. While the blondes still hadn't accepted me, they seemed to be getting used to my presence. Ulga complimented my outfit, asking where I had bought it from. I gave her the name of the store, but made sure to exclude that Jack had paid for it.
The month flew by, and I was thankfully able to fork over for my half of the rent, as promised, though it consumed nearly my entire paycheck. It was depressing to have money one minute and then have it gone the next, but there was nothing I could do about it. I owned Mandy so much more than that. Working and being poor was something I'd have to get used to for a while.
Time passed, and it seemed like things were finally going to work out for me. Despite Mandy's warning, Jack never approached me for sex. I could only assume he was respecting my lesbian proclamation. The other girls could have been named Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and so on though. It seemed like he went out with a different one every night of the week. While I rarely saw them leave the office together, I always heard the stories the next morning. From what I gathered, Jack Kemble was good in bed, and kinky to boot. Some of the things the girls talked about made me face flush with embarrassment. Tales of Jack's dungeon circulated around to the point I could picture the layout perfectly in my mind. One thing I noticed though was that sex never took place outside of the dungeon. Lovemaking did not seem to be in Jack Kemble's vocabulary.
For all the talk, none of it really mattered to me. I had no interest in seeing Jack's dungeon of pain and pleasure. Having sex with my boss would only complicate things, making it awkward to the point I'd want to quit. It wasn't worth losing my job over. Besides, I wasn't interested in being a notch of Jack's endlessly long bedpost. Despite initially regretting telling him I was a lesbian, I now realized it had probably been the right thing to do. There was no pressure for sex, and the pursuit of me was over. Aside from asking me to perform various job duties, Jack pretty much left me alone.
After my first month at Syngex, I began attending business conventions with Jack. He usually just brought me to take notes, though sometimes I'd also help prepare him for speeches, listening to him recite them in the limo on the way to the venue. When we were together in public, I felt important, though my presence was rarely acknowledged. I was the shadow in his background scene, seeing and reporting on what he couldn't—a second set of eyes and ears.
Eventually, Jack began taking me on business trips as well. The first few times flying were a nightmare. I had always hated planes—had an irrational fear of them. The turbulence during take off rattled my nerves, but Jack sat beside me, placing a hand on my arm and telling me everything would be alright. He could be such a good guy at times, so kind and gentle.
It seemed Jack divided his time between business and charity, and he took a very hands-on approach to both. A tornado had ripped through Oklahoma, uprooting hundreds of homes and devastating the land. Syngex was one of the first companies on the scene to provide assistance. He even flew in a handful of employees, rolling his sleeves up and getting right in there with the rest to clear the neighborhoods of debris and help the residents piece their shattered lives back together.
At the end of the day, we were all exhausted. Jack treated us to an afternoon at the hotel spa, a reward for the good deed we had done, though nothing was more satisfying than the feeling from the act itself. When Jack and I returned to our joint room for the evening, I found he had rented a suite with a hot tub. I felt apprehensive about getting into it with him, but eventually I caved.
“Damn, I'm beat,” he commented as he settled into the water, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
I kept a shower robe on while I poured us each a glass of champagne, trying to avoid letting Jack see me in a bikini, though I was a bit curious about how he'd react. While I had gotten to the point where I trusted him, there was still a large part of me that knew he was a man. When we were alone like this, sharing a two-bedroom suite, was when I felt the most vulnerable.
From what I had heard from the girls in the office, Jack was very sexually aggressive. I didn't want to give him any ideas that he could be that way with me, so I took care in making sure I was fully dressed until right before bed, and I locked my door at night, in case he got any sexual inclinations. On the rare nights when we stayed at suites that didn't have separate bedrooms, I made sure to wear the most unflattering set of pajamas I could find.
This was the first time I'd ever be nearly fully exposed to Jack. In truth, if I wanted to be even more cautious, I could have bought a one-piece with a cover shirt and some swim trunks, but I was tired of hiding. Besides, he seemed harmless enough on all of our other trips.
After setting Jack's champagne flute in the cup holder beside him and pouring myself a glass, I shrugged off my robe and slipped into the water, watching his eyes all the while. Jack kept them closed, which afforded me the opportunity to ogle him. So this is what Jack Kemble looks like shirtless, I thought, trailing my eyes across his defined shoulders and then down his tight chest into the bubbling water. I was sure whatever was below the water was just as perfect as what was above, though I couldn't see very well thanks to the jets being on.
It wasn't until I settled that Jack opened his eyes, looking over at me through the steam. “This is nice.”
“Mhm,” I replied absentmindedly, taking a swig of champagne. It was a bit too sweet for my liking, but the coolness of it felt good on my tongue, despite the tingling bubbles.
“Doing stuff like this makes me feel good.”
I wasn't sure if he meant helping people or being in the hot tub, but I answered anyway, “Me too.”
As Jack sat up to reach over for his champagne flute, his eyes landed on my cleavage. “Nice swimsuit,” he commented.
“Thanks.” I didn't know what else to say.
“How are you at giving back massages?”
“You had one already.” I smirked.
“I know, but I want another one.”
“Spoiled,” I huffed at him, setting down my champagne to move to his side of the hot tub. We had some issues with Jack repositioning himself between my legs, and I giggled as he landed on my lap. “You want me to hold you like a baby now too?”
“No. The jets make it hard to move,” Jack laughed.
“Then maybe we should turn them off.”
“As you wish.” He leaned over to push in the button that controlled the jets, allowing the water to go still. Afterward, he settled more easily between my legs.
My hands reached up for Jack's shoulders, pressing my fingers into hard muscle. “I'm not very good at this,” I confessed, trying to kneed out the knots as best I could.
“I'm sure you'll do fine. None of your girlfriends ever wanted massages?”
“They wanted them, but after the first one, they never asked again. Like I said, I suck at it.”
“It feels good to me.” His flesh was taut beneath my fingers, making my effort feel even less effective. It apparently didn't feel that good, because after a few minutes, Jack said, “Here, let me show you how.”
We switched positions, though I was a bit reluctant about it. As soon as his fingertips pressed into my shoulder, all apprehension faded away. Jack was every bit as good at giving massages as the girl in the spa had been, and I found myself almost moaning from his touch.
“Feels good?” he asked.
“Yes, don't stop.”
A short laugh escaped Jack's lips as his hands skillfully moved to work on my neck before dipping down to massage my back. I was half asleep when he spoke again. “Have you ever thought of going blonde?”
My body stiffened at the question. “No. Have you?”
“I don't think I'd look good blonde.”
“I don't think I'd look good blonde either.”
“Well, I think you would.”
I gave him a sardonic glance over my shoulder. “Are you asking me to dye my hair?”
“It's just a suggestion. I prefer blondes.”
“I noticed. You seem to forget I don't care what you prefer though.”
“Ouch. You're so mean,” Jack feigned offense, and then countered my rudeness by tickling my ribs.
I flailed, sinking into the water in my attempt to get away. My foot slipped, and my head went under. When I emerged completely soaked, he was laughing at me, which only worked to piss me off. “That's not funny, asshole,” I turned and blurted, forgetting my manners.
“Oh, it isn't, is it?” he asked, completely ignoring my bad mood. Jack lunged at me again, easily gripping me around the waist and tickling me relentlessly.
“Stop,” I cried out between giggles before my knee accidentally slid up between his legs.
He fell back on his side of the hot tub, hissing in pain. For a moment, I thought to be concerned . . . or embarrassed. I couldn't tell which one.
“I'm so sorry.” I screwed my face, not knowing what else to say or do.
Jack held out his hand, signaling he needed a minute to recompose himself. It took a few seconds for Jack to catch his breath and settle in his seat. He exhaled deeply before reaching back to chug the rest of his champagne. Without a second's hesitation, I climbed out of the hot tub to refill Jack's glass.
“That was a bit unexpected,” he said finally.
“It was totally unintentional, though you did deserve it for tickling me.”
“No man deserves that,” he insisted, making me feel ever worse. As if Jack sensed it, he said, “I know it was just an accident.”
“Good. I wouldn't want you to think I have a secret vendetta against your balls.” Why did I say that? My mouth was being completely stupid tonight.
“I certainly hope you don't.” He grinned.
I decided to take Jack's amusement and run with it. “Well, actually, I have a secret vendetta against all balls, but that's beside the point.” After topping off my glass, I slipped back into the water, no longer caring if he was staring at me or not. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes after what I had done, even if it was an accident.
“And why is that? I've been meaning to ask you what made you a lesbian. I mean, were you born that way. I know a lot of gay people. It's always interesting to hear their stories.”
“I'm guessing that means you're not homophobic.”
“Not hardly.”
“Well, I suppose if you were, you would have fired me by now.”
“Not true. Syngex holds a no discrimination policy. In truth, I really don't care what our employees do behind closed doors as long as it doesn't affect their job performance. Work and home should be two completely separate things.”
“I'm inclined to agree.”
“Now that you've bruised my manhood, entertain me with a story while I recover. Where did this vendetta against balls come from?”
My cheeks flushed, still embarrassed. Now I had to come up with a lie, and quick. “I figured it out in my early twenties.”
“How did that come about?”
“I've never had luck with men. I mean, they've always wanted me. I've never had a hard time getting a date. They just wanted me for the wrong reasons. None of them ever saw past the outside to who I really was. None of them ever cared to see. I just decided I didn't want my relationships to be like that anymore.” Wow, Jen, that was an absolutely horrible story. Couldn't you have done better?
“Women can be vain too, you know?”
“I know. But women know what women want. Most women get into relationships based on personality. That's why you see so many ugly men with hot girlfriends. It's rare that it's the other way around.”
“Men are visual creatures,” Jack admitted.
“They shouldn't be. What happens when the looks fade?”
“They get married,” he joked.
“I'm serious. Relationships based on physical attraction are all good until you get older. Then what are you left with? Oh wait, don't say anything. You're one of those guys who are just going to keep trading her in for a new model every few years.”
“Well that was rather rude.” He furrowed his brow.
“You're the one so obsessed with looks. What else am I supposed to assume?” I asked defensively.
“You make me sound like some womanizing monster.”
“Isn't that what a playboy is?” I was crossing so many lines, but I didn't know how to stop myself. Shut up, Jen. Just shut up.
“Is that what you really think of me?”
“What does it matter? You're my boss, nothing more. Your life is your own. How you live outside of the office is none of my concern. Work is work, remember. And home is home.” Except for the lines between your work life and home life blur with you banging every girl in the office.
“Maybe you're right to be a lesbian.” Jack took a long sip of champagne. The mood soured.
“Let's move on from this. We've both had a long day, and I don't want it to end on a bad note. Love is a sore subject for you. Attraction is a sore subject for me. Maybe we should make a list of things we should avoid talking about.”
“Maybe.” He didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation.
After a few tense moments, Jack got out of the hot tub and went to towel off. I lingered for a while longer, reflecting on the things said. He was obviously upset with me. Maybe I had struck yet another chord, or perhaps he actually cared what I thought about him. I couldn't really tell.
The following day, everything seemed back to normal. Jack was his usual chipper self, though I still felt a bit awkward around him due to the conversation of the previous night. It looked like hot tubs would have to go on my list of things to avoid in regard to Jack. I certainly didn't want to take the chance of reliving a similar situation.
It wasn't until we returned to Syngex that I noticed things were a bit different. In the coming week, chatter in the office took a turn. Instead of boasting about their sexual escapades with Jack, the girls wondered why he hadn't been taking them out on dates. I couldn't help but assume maybe something I had said had sunk in, though it was very doubtful. Jack was set in his ways. It wasn't likely a conversation with a self-proclaimed lesbian was going to change that.
At the end of the week, Jack invited me out to dinner. I was surprised when there seemed to be no business related reason to our getting together. After our last uncomfortable conversation, I had thought he wouldn't want to be alone with me. In all honesty, I didn't want to be alone with him. Using my better judgment, I decided to blow Jack off, telling him that I had plans with Mandy. If there was no reason for us to be together outside of work, then we shouldn't be together. It just wouldn't look right, and there was no real point in it.
The following Friday, he asked me out again, and again I declined. In truth, my Friday nights were typically spent at home, renting a movie and eating ice cream in my pajamas. Sometimes, when Mandy didn't have to work, we'd watch movies together. And on lonely nights, I'd go out with Eric for a drink. He was happy to have my company, and it was nice to be around another male besides my boss.
Jack was persistent though. The third Friday in a row that I rejected his offer for dinner, he finally asked, “What about Saturday?”
“My weekends are usually busy,” I lied.
“Too busy to pencil me in anywhere.” He gave me a weak smile. “I'll take whatever time you can spare.”
“Are you alright?” I was suddenly concerned. What was with this glum look?
“Fine. I just feel like you're avoiding me.”
“Why would I avoid you? You're my boss.”
“Maybe that's why you're avoiding me.”
“I'm not avoiding you. I'm just busy.”
We left it at that and I went home, trying to figure out why Jack wanted to hang out with me so badly. It seemed odd. Maybe he needed to get something off his chest. There were psychologists for that though. Jack most certainly did not need me.
I rented a romantic comedy and settled down onto the sofa, curling up around a half-pint of mint chocolate chip. Mandy was working late, and I didn't feel like drinking. Besides, it had been a while since I watched anything romance related. Romantic movies always left me teary eyed and feeling lonely, something I wasn't very fond of. Still, it was nice to remind myself occasionally that romance existed, whether it be serious or silly—that there was someone out there for everyone.
I was just now getting stable enough to consider dating again, though I wasn't thinking about it very much. Things were as perfect as they could be, and I wasn't sure adding a distraction such as a boyfriend was a good idea. With all the time that I spent alone with Jack on the job, it might cause drama with a relationship. That was something I didn't want or need. When things got weird, I tended to get irrational and make bad decisions. There was no way I was going to quit my cushy job over some man's jealousy. No, definitely not worth it. A relationship could wait a while longer.
The doorbell rang, and I groaned in annoyance as I set down my ice cream and went to answer the door. Who could be coming over at this hour? Mandy hadn't told me she would be expecting anyone, and I certainly wasn't.
Cautiously, I looked out the peephole. The person I saw on the other side of the door made my breath freeze in my lungs. Jack Kemble was on my doorstep. Why?
For a moment, I thought about going back to my movie, but he had surely heard me walk up. Begrudgingly, I slid the chain lock out of place and then unbolted the door, opening it up to him.
“Hey you,” I said.
“Hey.”
“What's up?”
Jack looked down at my pajamas. “I thought you'd be out with your friends.”
Then why'd you bother coming over? “It's movie night.”
“Oh. What are you watching?”
“Warm Bodies.”
“The zombie movie?”
“Yup.”
“I haven't seen it yet.”
“Oh.” The mood was awkward. What did he want?
“So, are you watching it with friends?”
“Nope. I'm home alone. Plans fell through this evening, so I got stuck with me, myself, and I,” I said finally, trying to cover up my earlier lie.
“Care for some company?”
“Sure.” How could I say no after he drove all the way to my apartment?
I opened the door wider, allowing Jack to come inside. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the décor. All the stuff on the walls belonged to Mandy, paintings of dude ranches that her grandmother had done before she passed away. I moved around too much to bother putting out my own things.
Our apartment was small but liveable. It felt strange having mulitbillionaire Jack Kemble walking around inside, not that he hadn't been anywhere smaller or worse. I had learned that by traveling with him. Jack was always a humble guest, grateful to anyone who hosted him, though I never wondered about how genuine he was until now.
“It's not much,” I felt obligated to say.
“It's fine,” Jack replied. “Are you going to give me the grand tour or do I wander around aimlessly on my own?”
I closed the door behind him. “There's not much to see. Obviously, this is the living room.” I gestured toward the television. “The kitchen is over there. And our bedrooms are down the hall.”
“Mind showing me your room?”
I wanted to ask why, but instead I just nodded, allowing him to follow me to my room. The inside was less than impressive. There was a twin bed pushed back against the wall, an end table beside that, and a small desk with my old beat up laptop. As with the rest of the apartment, the walls were bare of my things.
“You're not much into decorating, are you?” Jack commented.
“Nope. Anything you see on the walls or cabinets belongs to Mandy. I usually don't settle enough in one place to make it worth putting my things out.”
“That's rather sad.”
I shrugged. “If you say so. I prefer to call it being prepared for the worst.”
“You have such a negative outlook on everything.”
“I'm a realist, and reality usually isn't good.”
I turned to go back out into the hallway, but he blocked my path. There was something different about him tonight. The air felt heavy suddenly, almost palpable. Jack's blue eyes bore down into me, as unmoving as his body.
“Let's go watch the movie,” I said, staring straight through him as if he wasn't even there. Jack lifted a hand to caress my face, sending a shiver of electricity throughout my body. Why was he touching me? Why was he so close? “What are you doing?” I asked. My mind told me to move away, but my body wouldn't let me. There were so many strange changes these past weeks. Jack hadn't been sleeping with the girls in the office; his mood had been off, and now this. I wasn't sure what to make of it all. He leaned down, and I knew in that moment Jack meant to kiss me. Without a second thought, my hand came up to rest on his firm chest, my face turning so that he'd miss the mark. “What are you doing?” I asked again, only moments before Jack's mouth would have made contact with my lips.
“I need to know something,” he whispered.
“What's that?”
“What only kissing you will tell me.”
“What could a kiss possibly tell you?”
“Everything.”
Before I had a chance to respond, Jack's hand gripped me gently under the chin, redirecting my mouth. My heart drummed in my ears as our lips met. His moved softly against mine, cautiously . . . but I was so shocked that all I could do was stand there, unsure of whether I should reciprocate or not—of whether I wanted to reciprocate or not.
Jack closed his eyes, seeming to savor the feel of my lips. I kept my eyes wide open, watching him the entire time. When Jack finally pulled away, I was at a loss for words. The way he looked at me was different than before. Then, as if nothing had happened, he said, “Let's go watch the movie.”
Not knowing what to say, I followed Jack out of my room and down the hall to the living room, sitting beside him and taking the remote in hand. For a moment, I thought about asking if he wanted me to restart the movie so he could see it from the beginning, but then I realized I wanted him out of my apartment as quickly as possible. I needed to sort out what had just happened.
We watched the movie in silence. Or rather, Jack watched the movie in silence. My mind wouldn't shut up, my body super sensitive to everything around me. He was sitting so close our legs were touching—closer than necessary. I licked my lips, and I tasted him on them. Mmm the taste of Jack Kemble. It was then I realized my stress wasn't just from the strange event that had occurred, but also from my own sexual frustration. Jack Kemble was sitting beside me, gorgeous and willing. He had made the first move. Now the ball was in my court. If I wanted him, I could have him. All it would take would be for me to lean over and return the affection he had tried to bestow on me. Within minutes, we could be in the bedroom, his fit body moving on top of mine, taking me to places I hadn't been to in so long. There was no question I desired him. But the consequences of those desires were too much to bear. I couldn't risk it—couldn't risk everything for one night of pleasure.
By the time the movie ended, I was completely numb. My body was on overdrive with lust, and it was taking everything in me to still it. Why was this man sitting beside me so tempting?
“That was an interesting movie,” Jack said as the credits began to roll. “It didn't really make any sense, but I guess that's fantasy for you.”
“Yeah,” was all I could think of to say.
“Now what?” he asked, making my stomach twist into a snake pit of nerves all over again. What did he mean by that?
“That's the only movie I rented,” I replied, hoping he would get the hint that he needed to leave.
“If you still want to go out, it's not too late. We could go to a bar, or I could show you my place.” There was something dark behind his offer to show me his place—something I didn't like.
“I'm tired and Mandy will be home soon. You should probably go,” I suggested.
“I thought your friend wanted to meet me.”
“She does, but I don't feel like being up all night listening to her talk about you like some fangirl.”
“Well you're no fun,” Jack huffed playfully.
“I never claimed to be,” I said dryly.
“I guess I'll go then.” He stood. “Though I would have liked to spend more time with you.”
“You spend eight hours a day with me five days a week. Sometimes more than that. Isn't that enough?”
“I spend most of that time in my office, so it's technically not spent with you.”
“Still.”
He was beginning to catch on to my discontent. “I thought we could be friends outside of work.”
“Friends don't kiss, Jack.” I gave him a serious look.
“That was research.” He smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
“Research?” I arched an eyebrow, leading him to the door.
“Mhm.”
“And what did you discover from that research?”
“That you're definitely not a lesbian.”
My heart stuck in my chest. Could Jack really tell from one non-reciprocating kiss, or was he just pretending to know? The smug look on his face made me even less happy.
“You can't tell that from a kiss,” I insisted.
“Of course I can. I've kissed a lot of women. Hundreds,” Jack boasted. “You can tell a lot about a woman by the way she kisses.”
“You just said by the way she kisses. I didn't actually kiss you. You kissed me, and I didn't reciprocate.”
“But you wanted to. I could tell.” He stood on my doorstep, grinning as if he was the best mind reader in the world.
“Well, if you can tell so much from a kiss, then you can also tell I'm not one of your blonde sluts.” I slammed the door in Jack's face, exasperated. Instantly, I regretted it, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to open the door, no matter how many times he rang the bell. Who did he think he was? Hundreds of women. That certainly didn't make Jack anymore appealing.
I stood with my back pressed against the door, listening to the doorbell ring repeatedly, to him calling my name. Part of me wanted to shatter into a million pieces and sob. Another part of me just wanted to get away. I felt trapped.
Eventually, the doorbell stopped ringing, and I felt safe enough to return to the couch. What had just happened? I couldn't comprehend it. Had he come over specifically with the intentions of kissing me? It sure seemed like it. Maybe I should have taken Jack up on his offer for dinner. I doubted he would have been bold enough to try to kiss me in public. Getting caught kissing one of his employees couldn't possibly look good. While everyone knew Jack slept with his employees, it was a closed-door affair. None of the girls were dumb enough to take that information public.
To keep my mind off things, I restarted the movie. Thanks to my thoughts being on Jack the entire time he was over, I had missed most of it anyway. After about fifteen minutes of being unable to concentrate, I resigned to turning off the movie and curling up on the couch with a box of tissues to sob out my frustration. What would this mean for Jack and I now? What would this mean for my job? It felt like one kiss had changed everything. And even worse, when he was on my doorstep, I practically admitted I had lied about being a lesbian. I called my co-workers sluts too. He would probably fire me now. Everything I had worked so hard for felt like it melted away at the sensual touch of Jack's lips.
When Mandy got home from work, I was no better off. She found me on the sofa and instantly knelt at my side in concern. Despair filled me. The look on her face plainly said she thought I had quit my job or gotten fired. It was hurtful, in and of itself, and only made me want to cry more, especially because I thought the truth of Mandy's fears was right around the corner.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Jack came over, and he kissed me, and I got mad, and I called the girls in the office his sluts,” I coughed out.
“Jack Kemble was here . . . in our apartment,” was the only part she heard. “Why was he here?”
“I don't know. He stalked me. I told him I didn't want to go out with him tonight, so he came over instead . . . without my permission.”
Mandy's sympathy quickly faded away. “That's it? Why are you crying? That's nothing to cry over.”
“I don't know. I don't want an intimate relationship with him. It will ruin my job.”
“Jack Kemble has an intimate relationship with all of his female employees. You've acknowledged that yourself. None of them have quit or been fired over it. I don't understand why you're freaking out.”
“I don't want to be a part of his stupid harem. But if I refuse him, I feel like he'll fire me.”
Now she was a bit more concerned. “I see. So, don't refuse him.” She shrugged.
“That's not fair. I feel like I'm going to be forced to sleep with him.”
“Jen, it's Jack fucking Kemble. Most girls would pay to sleep with him.”
I sat up, wiping my eyes. Mandy was right. Things could be a lot worse. Jack could be cruel or unattractive, but he was neither. Most women wouldn't be whining if they were in my position. So why was I? Deep down, I knew the answer. It had nothing to do with my job. I just didn't want to be one of hundreds, a notch on his bed post, not special. Girls were a dime a dozen to Jack, and if I slept with him, it would make me feel cheap. That was the real reason I didn't want to sleep with him, as stupid and selfish as it was. But Jack had gave me so much. The least I could do was give him my body. Still, it was a souring thought, like I was selling myself. I didn't like it.
“You're right. I'm fine,” I said finally, getting up to go to my room. Mandy didn't understand. She wasn't going to understand, so there was no point in discussing it any further.
I dreaded Monday like the plague, but it came regardless of my feelings. When I stepped into Jack's office to hand him his coffee, I didn't even want to look at him. You won, you smug son of a bitch. You're going to get what you want. I hope you're happy.
Despite my internal bitterness, Jack treated me no different than he ever had. The day continued on as normal, though I performed my job tasks with much less enthusiasm. At the end of the shift, I half expected Jack to ask if I wanted to go back to his place, but he didn't, and I was thankful for it.
When I got home, there was a large bouquet of roses sitting on the middle of the kitchen table. At first, I didn't think anything of it, assuming they belonged to Mandy. But when she got home from work that afternoon, the first thing she asked was, “Did you figure out who sent the flowers?”
“I thought they were yours,” I replied, pulling myself off the couch to go look at the card.
“It says they're from your secret admirer. Scrounge up any secret admirers lately?”
“Not that I can think of. Maybe they're from Eric.”
Not feeling like playing games, I called up Eric to inquire about the roses.
“Do you want me to send you roses?” He asked teasingly. “Because I can, if it will make you go out with me.”
“Not a chance, hot stuff,” I laughed.
“Looks like I'm not the only one after Jenny. I guess I should start stepping up my game.”
“Or stepping down, the same as this guy is going to have to do. I don't want to date anyone right now.” Or did I? Maybe if I had a boyfriend, Jack would leave me alone, though it hadn't stopped him from hooking up with the married girls in the office.
“Poor us,” Eric laughed uncomfortably.
“Indeed.”
There were only two other possibilities of where the roses had come from, and neither one of them were appealing. Jack obviously knew where I lived, though I didn't picture him as a romantic guy. Besides, I had just rejected him yet again. Why would he bother?
The only other person I could think of was my stalker from the last apartment complex I lived in, but that was highly improbable. We had moved shortly after he started harassing me. Besides, he had left the roses on my car, not on my doorstep.
Jack was the only real possibility, but I was too scared to ask him about it. I decided it was best to just ignore the gesture. If he had sent them, surely he would eventually bring it up.
The next day when I got home from work, there was an edible arrangement in the fridge. It seemed my secret admirer was relentless. Each day of the week, he sent something else. On Tuesday, it was a box of chocolates. On Wednesday, it was a giant stuffed bear. On Thursday, it was a bottle of champagne. And on Friday, it was just an envelope. It was waiting for me on the table when I walked through the door. The handwriting wasn't Jack's, but as soon as I opened the letter, I knew it was from him. Inside was one thousand dollars in cash, a business card to a dress shop, a ticket to a masked ball, and a note that read:
Dear Juliet,
I would be ever so honored if you would attend this year's Halloween Masked Ball with me. Enclosed you will find the funds to transform you into Masked Ball royalty. See the dress maker from the business card to be fitted in a gown made for a princess. Don't forget to buy a mask with it, otherwise they won't let you in.
When you get to the ball, tell no one your name. This is a completely anonymous event. Simply hand the doorman your ticket, and you will be admitted into the building. I will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs inside the ballroom.
If you do not attend, I will be utterly heartbroken. All advances toward you will cease, and you'll forever be left wondering who your secret admirer is.
All of my love,
Romeo
There was no question in my mind who my secret admirer was. Now it was just a matter of whether or not I'd reject him. This was it, the crossroads where I could make all of my problems go away. All I had to do was not show up.