Ella

I took the subway home and went to my apartment, regretting that I'd turned Josh down.

Still, it was for the best. He was way too gorgeous and way too powerful. There was no way we'd be on equal footing. I'd always be the poor little country mouse next to his city slicker mouse. I wouldn't fit in and so the most we could have would be a purely sexual relationship. As much as I would have liked to sleep with him, I knew it would be a mistake.

I thought about Jerkface and his sexretary and there was no way I was going to be that kind of woman.

Instead, I opened my cell and skyped with Steph.

ELLA: I just got home from supper with Josh. Best meatballs in the world. *Sigh*

In a moment, she responded.

STEPH: WHAT ARE YOU DOING HOME ALONE YOU SHOULD BE IN HIS BED!!!

ELLA: He's my boss!

STEPH: If you played your cards right, he might end up your husband...

ELLA: In case you forgot, I'm not in the market for a husband. A handsome hunk of a boy-toy, maybe, but a husband? No.

STEPH: HE COULD BE A BOY-TOY!

ELLA: He's my boss.

STEPH: Seriously, I'd do him just for the experience. A notch on your belt, which, I might add, has very few -- like, ONE -- notch on it.

ELLA: Two. You keep forgetting Sidney Johnson.

STEPH: That didn't count. He didn't even get it inside of you, I recall you telling me.

ELLA: It was still sex. And we were still naked.

STEPH: And you were still a virgin afterwards, so no. It doesn't count. You need experience, Ella. Go get you some.

ELLA: *sigh*

STEPH: See? You regret not going home with him. The two of you are going to be filled with regrets. Not a good way to live. You should seize the day. Live life to the fullest.

ELLA: So what you're saying is that I should just forget all my ethics.

STEPH: I'm saying you should JUMP HIM!

ELLA: I think I'm going to write some erotica instead.

STEPH: Oh for God's sake... What's the use of moving to The Big Apple and not taking advantage of the men?

ELLA: I will, once I find one WHO ISN'T MY BOSS...

STEPH: Boss, schmoss. I bet he's good in bed. Now you'll never know.

ELLA: It's too late now anyway. I'm going to say goodbye. I've taken enough abuse for one night...

STEPH: You love me.

ELLA: I do. *Smooch*

STEPH: *Smooches you back*

STEPH: Look, kiddo. If he asks you out again, don't say no. Sleep with him and see where it goes. He's so damn gorgeous, you'd be a fool to let something as trivial as morals and ethics get in the way. ;)

ELLA: And instead let something as trivial as his good looks guide my way?

STEPH: When it comes to sex and pleasure, good looks are important factors in satisfaction.

ELLA: GOOD NIGHT!!!

STEPH: XOXOXO

I smiled and put my cell away, then opened my Iron Man notebook. Instead of actually going out and enjoying Josh the way I probably should have and could have, I decided to write a new erotic short story. In fact, I decided to write one about Josh, although I'd use a different name.

My pencil from the kiosk was much shorter, but luckily, I thought to sharpen it at work before I left for the day. Otherwise, I'd have to use the dictation app on my cell and I could never get the hang of it.

Tempt Me

The man in the grey flannel suit was not my Mr. Big but he was a pretty damn good substitute...

I sat at my kitchen table and tried to think of a scenario that excited me, and one that would excite my readers. Maybe, an agreement to have sex in the middle of the day, at a ritzy hotel, no words spoken, just get a key, take the elevator up, and go meet a man for sex. Someone you didn't know but who had been vetted by a group you belonged to -- a sex club for people who had needs but those didn't include romance or marriage.

Kind of the way both Josh and I felt after our own heartbreaking bad engagements.

I wrote my story, using Josh as my hero and myself as the heroine -- if you could call my two characters by those titles. I decided on the Ritz-Carlton Hotel across from Central Park. It would fulfil my fantasy of meeting a hot rich man there and having wild sex.

At my usual pace of four pages an hour, it took me about five hours to get the first part of the story done. When I was finished for the night, I closed my notebook and put my pencil away, then had a lukewarm shower, and went to bed with B.O.B.

Just another ordinary but sad night in my otherwise exciting new life in Manhattan.

The next morning, I rushed to work, having slept in past my alarm. I almost didn't make it, but was glad that I was able to slip into my office without running into Sharon, who was in an early meeting. I sat at my desk and pulled the box of manuscripts closer and fished out the first one, opening my notebook and taking out my pencil.

It was then I realized I forgot to remove the story out of the notebook and leave it at home. I pulled out each page and stuffed them into a file on my desk, then I spent the first part of the morning reading manuscripts and queries from various authors, reading the first five pages of book after book, deciding whether to read on later or pass. Sharon didn't want me to read past the first five or six pages, arguing that I would know whether a story gripped me in that short time. It made me feel bad for all the authors who put so much care and attention to their beloved manuscripts, only to have me reject it after the first five or ten pages, but that's what Sharon wanted. Unsolicited manuscripts were rarely accepted by the publisher. Most of the books published came via an agent or one of the editors already working in the publishing house.

By the time my ten thirty rolled around, I was ready for a break, my eyes watery after reading page after page, scratching down notes in my notebook about the ones I liked. There were a couple, and I felt they needed to be read fully, but I'd consult with Sharon first.

It was time for me to go and get my new laptop and cell from the local electronics store, so I grabbed my coat and bag and told Samantha at the front reception that I'd be gone for half an hour but would take a shorter lunch break.

"Going to get my new cell," I said as I pushed the elevator button.

"Have a good one."

I went down the elevator to the main floor and out into the glorious autumn day in Manhattan. Around me were the sounds of the street -- pedestrians walking, talking and horns blaring in the busy traffic, which always seemed to be clogged up. In the distance, a siren wailed. I glanced around and was glad to be so lucky to be here.

I made my way to the electronics shop and picked up my new iPhone 8 Plus, and after getting it activated and my data transferred, I picked up an iPad with a detachable keyboard. It was a lot cheaper than an actual laptop. After I was finished, I grabbed a coffee and went back to the office. I had a meeting with Sharon and so I had to rush the last few blocks so I wouldn't be late.

When I arrived in my office, Sharon popped her head in.

"Meet me in the boardroom. Bring your stuff and we can talk about what you've found for me."

"I will," I said and gave her a smile, trying not to appear too flustered. I sat behind my desk and exhaled, excited to meet with her and talk about the manuscripts. I gathered up the pile that I'd marked "Further Consideration" and grabbed my notebook, because I hadn't had the time to set up my new iPad, which would take maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. It was then that I noticed my red file with the erotic story I'd removed from my notebook was missing. I checked under the box, and under a pile of rejected manuscripts, but it wasn't there.

Where the hell was it?

It was a red file and I remembered putting it off to the side of my desk, away from the manuscripts so they wouldn't get mixed up.

Crap!

I checked under the desk on the off chance that I'd knocked it off and didn't notice, but the floor was bare. Nothing.

I went out of the office to the reception area.

"Have you seen a red file folder anywhere? I can't find it. It was on my desk when I left for my meeting with Sharon and now it's gone."

Theresa shook her head. "No, I haven't but Mr. Macintyre popped in when you were out, looking for you. I asked if he wanted me to let you know he'd been by, but he said no. He'd call you later."

"He was in my office?" I asked, a sinking feeling inside.

"Yes, he just popped in for a moment."

I swallowed hard. "Did he have a red file folder with him when he left?"

She shrugged and made a face. "Not that I remember, but he did have a bunch of files with him when he stopped by."

Oh, God...

Had Josh found my file folder with the erotic story ABOUT HIM?

There was no way he wouldn't see that he was the hero. Rich. Handsome with blue-gray eyes. Light brown hair, a bit longish. A well-trimmed beard. Tall. Built. Even a newspaper magnate.

I cringed internally when I thought about it. Oh, God...

I felt momentarily sick and went back to my office, sitting at my desk, not knowing what to do or how to handle it.

I made one more attempt to find the red file folder before I completely gave up hope, but it wasn't anywhere to be found. Then I thought that, maybe, I'd accidentally brought it with me to the boardroom and traced my steps back there.

Nope.

I went back to my office and sat behind my desk, staring blankly at my files, trying to decide what to do. I was going to do nothing. I wasn't going to contact Josh and ask if he had it. If he contacted me, I'd act as if it meant nothing. I'd laugh and say I was using him to make money, because I could actually sell my stories for a few bucks on Amazon.

I would not let it get to me.

Crap!

I texted Steph.

ELLA: You'll never guess what just happened!

STEPH: You won the lottery and are inviting me on a world cruise? Prince Something of Somesuch Country proposed and you're finally going to realize your dream to be a princess? The Nobel Prize Committee just awarded you the Nobel Prize for Literature? Do tell...

ELLA: I wrote an erotic story featuring Mr. Straining Glutes and me in a tryst at a hotel. I had it in a red file folder on my desk. While I was out at a meeting, he dropped by my office and found the file and took it!!! Hasn't said a word but he's the only one who could have it. I don't know what to do.

STEPH: Oh, now you're in for it! He'll probably pester you until the two of you act it out. I can see it all now -- you'll bang each other's brains out and decide you can't stand to be apart and will get married and have five kids.

ELLA: Steph! This is serious! I'm mortified...

STEPH: Seriously, kiddo. He'll probably have to make a trip to the executive washroom to rub one out after reading it. Your erotica is good and I mean gooooood. Chill out. He's hot as a firecracker and now he won't be able to get you and your story out of his mind. Betcha a million bucks.

ELLA: You don't have a million bucks.

STEPH: But if I did, I'd bet it.

ELLA: What should I do?

STEPH: Do nothing. Let him come to you. Act nonchalant. Tell him that you were searching around for a story to make a few extra bucks and threw it together at the last minute, but you're not sure it's hot enough to sell. It might need editing. Act like it's purely a business decision. He'll be totally impressed and totally captivated and will want you even more than before.

ELLA: He's, like, a billionaire, Steph. He could have any woman he wanted. Models, starlets, debutantes.

STEPH: He'll want you. Trust me on this. Now, just go do your job and text me if anything happens. XOXOXOX

ELLA: Okay... *sigh*

I did what Steph suggested and totally ignored the panic welling up inside me. I could do nothing about the fact that Josh had found my erotic story. He had it and so now, the ball was in his court. It would be up to him whether he'd let me know he had it.

I tried to spend the rest of my day not thinking about Josh reading my story, but it was damn near impossible. I went to my meeting with Sharon and at least that distracted me for a while. At about five thirty, I packed up my things and took the elevator down to the main floor, hoping beyond hope that I wouldn't run into Josh on the way out of the building. I heaved a sigh of relief when I made it past the security desk with no incident and walked down the street to the subway stop.

Then I got on my train and went home, thankful that the confrontation that I knew would eventually happen was postponed for at least another day.

About nine o'clock that night I got a text from Steph.

STEPH: Nothing yet?

ELLA: No, thank God.

STEPH: Strange. I would have thought he'd make a point of dropping by to let you know he'd read your story.

ELLA: Believe me, I am just as happy that he hasn't. I don't need any drama.

STEPH: You wait and see. I know I'm right about this. He'll say or do something to acknowledge it.

ELLA: I just want it all to go away.

STEPH: Text me as soon as he does something. This time tomorrow, I'll bet he's asked you out for dinner or drinks. Maybe you'll be boinking him in the executive bathroom after he confronts you with the story.

ELLA: I don't want to boink him in the executive bathroom!

STEPH: Where do you want to boink him?

ELLA: In my story, we were at the Ritz-Carlton. The room had a view of Central Park.

STEPH: Maybe you'll boink him there. It's possible. Wherever he wants to boink you, take it!

ELLA: You are so bad...

STEPH: You love me.

ELLA: You know it.

I woke up the next morning, a sense of dread filling me at having to face Josh at work the next day. I had to return his cell, and would see if there was any way to do so when he wasn't there. Maybe I could leave the cell at the front desk to give to Josh when he arrived for the day.

That was my plan, at least.

I went through my usual routine and made it to the office in record time. I was even able to stop and pick up my coffee, having time to spare. Once I was there, I entered the building, showed my ID and dropped the cell off with the security guard on the front desk, asking if he could return it to Josh when he came to the desk to sign in.

"If you want, I can have it delivered to his office," the guard said. "We take the packages that arrive up each day and I could do it then."

"Thanks," I said and reached into my bag to remove five-dollar bill. "Let me give you something for your troubles."

The guard waved it away "No charge," he said. "Next time you're out, bring me a coffee with two sugar and say we're square."

"Oh, thank you," I gushed. "You're so sweet."

"That's what my wife says," he replied with a grin.

I left the front desk and I took the elevator up to my office, wondering about Josh and what he really thought about my story. I liked it. It was a fantasy of mine -- meeting a strange but gorgeous man for hot sex in the middle of the day at a ritzy hotel. No words spoken -- just enter the room, and go at it. Of course, the man would be totally alpha, a hunk, and know precisely what to do to make my heart beat faster, my body respond and my orgasm -- or three -- be mind-blowing.

My body warmed to the thought of Josh waiting at a hotel room for me and I had to take in a deep breath and try to shove the thoughts out of my mind.

When the elevator arrived, I was almost ready for my day. I stopped to say hello to Sharon on my way inside.

"How are you doing?" she asked, glancing up from a pile of files on her desk. "Everything okay on the financial front?"

"Yes," I said and nodded. "I picked up my keys on Monday. My old place was so small so my new place feels like a mansion by comparison. It's be nice to have my own bathroom and a real kitchen."

"Good, good," she said. "There's a new box of manuscripts in your office."

Before I could respond, her phone rang, so she gave me a smile and mouthed I have to take this, so I left her to her phone call, walking down the hallway, feeling eager to get started.

I went into my office and plopped myself down behind my desk, tucking my bag into the bottom drawer and placing my coffee cup on the desktop beside my laptop.

It was then that I saw the small black plastic hotel room keycard. It was unmistakable.

A hotel room key to the Ritz-Carlton New York - Central Park. 50 Central Park West.

Adrenaline coursed through me and I had to actually catch my breath. I picked up the keycard and turned it over. Inside was the room number. I googled the room number and saw it was a room on the 9th floor overlooking Central Park. There was a small yellow sticky on the back of the envelope holding the keycard.

It read three thirty that afternoon.

Oh, my God...

Of course, the first thing I did was text Steph.

ELLA: OMG he left a key card to the Ritz-Carlton Central Park on my desk. I'm supposed to meet him at three thirty today...

STEPH: Told ya! You go, girl! That story must have really impressed him.

ELLA: I don't know what to do.

STEPH: What? ARE YOU CRAZY? Go! Enjoy. You deserve it.

ELLA: I've told you how I feel about office romances.

STEPH: Pffft. That was then. This is now. This is your fantasy, kiddo. He wants to fulfil your fantasy. How could you turn that down? Go and get some for all us single ladies.

ELLA: What he must think of me...

STEPH: He probably can't stop thinking of you and had to jerk off several times after he read your story.

ELLA: You have such a filthy imagination.

STEPH: No, I have three brothers and lived with a guy for three months once.

STEPH: DO IT! You know you want to...

STEPH: Write me back with all the deets when you're able.

ELLA: Okay. If I go. And I'm not 100 percent sure that I will.

STEPH: You'll regret it the rest of your life if you don't. GO.

ELLA: Later. XOXOX

STEPH: XOXOXOMG

I smiled and leaned back, a most definite ache in my core at the thought that Josh would be waiting for me at the hotel room.

He must have really liked my story...