But then a guy stops by and Steve turns to exchange a few words with him and the lank ponytail flicks into sight. And just, no.
When he turns back, I change the subject to what I should have been talking about. “Do you guys have any suggestions? Effie’s having trouble making friends at school. I’m not sure I can do anything apart from having a word with her teacher at parents’ evening to see if she can sit Effie with someone more on her wavelength. I thought it might help if she had some friends outside of school, but I can’t find any clubs that would suit her. They’re all art, drama or music.”
“Horse-riding?” Ginny suggests. “But it’s expensive.”
I’ve already got Effie lobbying for a dog or a snake. I’m reluctant to add a pony to the mix.
Steve leans forward. “Scouts?”
“Isn’t that for boys?”
“They take everybody.” Is that a mild rebuke for being gendered? “I was an Explorer until I went to university. I’ve sailed a barge, abseiled a cliff, hiked the triple, Snowdon, Ben Nevis and Scafell Pike. I had great fun.”
“I’m not so sure all of that is Effie.”
“They do conservation activities too,” Steve adds.
“I was a Guide,” Ginny interjects. “They did fun stuff, too.”
I consider that option, but Effie’s friendlessness arises because girls don’t take to her. I suspect if I sent her to an all-female organisation, it would make her sense of isolation worse. She’d be better as a scout.
“Okay. That’s one idea. Any others?”
But nobody seems to have anything more. Fair enough, it’s not their problem to solve. I leave Ginny and Steve jockeying for whohad the best experiences and head back. A quick search shows a non-starter. All the meetings start before I pick Effie up. The older groups start later in the evenings. Perhaps when she’s six, she could join, but that’s over a year away.
For one moment I sit at my desk and despair. I think of the little black duck on the side of our bathtub and realise it’s a metaphor for my daughter. She’s a cormorant in a world of ducklings.
Travels With Your Boss
Effie is bouncing off the walls with excitement. She’s going on a sleepover with Max all by herself. I won’t be there. I will be miles away in another country supporting the Cerium team as they drum up interest in the industry for our launch later this year. On a side issue, Anders is also hoping to find more investment to help us over the line until the next game is released.
We’ve bottomed out our current investors; they’re getting nervous about whether we’ll solve our technical issues. And although early access to the game has helped, people want the actual game.
This event has been on the calendar for ages, and I asked Dana and Fiona months ago. I’ve arranged with after-school that Fiona will pick Effie up. They have her details and Fiona knows to carry identification. I dropped Effie’s overnight things with them last Friday and endured a host of instructions from Dana on seduction techniques to use on Anders.
I didn’t bother telling her flirty lashes and licked lips were unnecessary. The only seduction technique I would require would be to say yes to becoming Anders’s brood mare. I’m sure my three orgasms would follow in short order. I ignore the little flutter that whips through my nether regions at the thought. Despite all my good intentions, my mind hasn’t stopped misfiring. In fact, I think it’s getting worse.
Sometimes when I think of Anders, weird sexual thoughts intrude. I can’t find any pattern to them. It seems to be completely random. I can go a whole day with only rational thoughts of my boss and then have two fantasies in the space of an hour. Now as I’m packing my bag, I look down and realise I’ve added the black lace thongs that normally hide at the back of my underwear drawer. They might be sexy but since I had Effie, they’re not suitable for anything other than the briefest outings. I take them out and replace them with big, comfortable cotton panties. Much better. No-one is going to be looking at my knickers after all.
Briefly I contemplate packing a vibrator. In an attempt to placate my sudden-onset libido, I’ve taken to pressing the button every night, taking care to think of every chunk of hunk except Anders. All the Chrises, Toms, and Jamies have taken their star turn as I try to derail my unexpected horniness for my boss. So far, it hasn’t worked.
I’m somewhat hazy on whether sex toys count as electronics and have to be hauled out of a cabin bag for separate inspection by security. And I’m flying with Anders. Just imagining his smirk as he watches my vibrator disappear into the X-ray machine is enough to make me squirm. I’m not risking the reality.
Straight away, an image flashes up. Anders holding the toy to my clit, his blue eyes swallowed by black, as he slides his fingers into me, slow and controlled. I catch my breath and stare at thepicture of my parents sitting on the bedside cabinet. It’s the most unsexy thing I can find at this moment. I focus on it for dear life until the mental image fades. This has to stop.
Shutting my suitcase, I call for Effie and we make our way to school. She gives me an extra-long hug – the meagrest sign of her nervousness. Effie can handle uncertainty if she is prepared for it. We’ve talked over what is about to happen thoroughly. There should be no surprises. Her arms release, her little body retreats, and then she is gone, my promise to call every evening ringing in her ears.
At work, it’s not long before a car arrives for Anders and me. Piotr and Scarlett left on the first flight of the day to be there in time to take delivery of the cases of promotional swag and conference materials I’ve had shipped. Ahmed, a family man, flies out tomorrow morning and Ginny is travelling with him. She would normally head out with Piotr to help set up but no-one complained when I quietly moved her flight.
Anders sits next to me in the taxi but he’s silent, poring over a spreadsheet on his laptop. He’s totally focussed. I spend my time scrutinising everybody’s arrangements, double-checking flight details, hotel bookings and conference passes, looking for diary clashes and errors in resource allocations. Everything is dynamic; there are always insertions, cancellations, and revisions.
When the taxi pulls up at the terminal, Anders exits first. He stands by the door and holds out his hand to me, as he does every time we travel together. He has old-fashioned manners, courtesy of his all-American upbringing. But this time, when I place my hand in his, I’m hyper-aware of the contact. A warmth travels up my arm, tightening my nipples on its way to my heart.
I suck in a breath to steady myself. Luckily, he’s unaware of the effect of his touch. I’ve no doubt he would capitalise on it to push his suit, but instead he drops my hand and is scanning thedoors of the departure area. When the driver unloads our cases, two laptop bags and two cabin bags, we set off for security.
They’ve got new machines. There are signs around announcing all electronics should be kept in bags. I need not have worried. Too bad, I could have brought a whole box of sex toys and Anders would have been none the wiser. He moves ahead of me, placing a tray on the belt for me to fill with my belongings.
As if protecting me from the big bad security guards, he goes first. His black-clad figure steps forward, raising his arms like a ninja. When he’s through, I follow. By the time I emerge, he’s recovered his things and is waiting. But my bag is not there. It’s been sidelined for further inspection. With a sinking heart, I realise airport security are going to display my granny knickers to the world, Anders included.
