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I try to quell my internal blathering and instead shoot Natalie an oversized smile. “So how’s your article on skirt lengths going?” I ask with way too much enthusiasm. She doesn’t even attempt to hide the roll of her eyes but she answers my banal question anyway as Apollo passes me so closely, I can smell his cologne and despite myself, I inhale deeply, even as I’m staring straight at Natalie. My skin is crackling with sexual energy and I can’t breathe but I don’t care. I'm not looking at Apollo.
Not.
Looking.
He’s finally passed me and I can breathe normally again. Natalie, god bless her soul, continues her blathering until we make it to the staff break room, and then shuts the door behind us.
“Tell me all. Now,” she demands. “If I have to wait one more minute to hear what happened, I just might explode.”
As she starts the coffee pot with our special blend of shade-grown, organic coffee that we hide in the back of the freezer, away from the editorial department’s prying eyes, I wander around the break room, picking up old copies of Blush and putting them back down again without seeing any of it.
“Sex,” I finally blurt out. “Lots and lots and lots and oh god amazing sex. Never, in the history of sex, has anyone had better sex than the sex I had last night.”
Natalie shoves my favorite mug into my hand, filled with dark, rich coffee, and demands, “More. Tell me more. Tell me all. Speak, oh sex goddess of Manhattan. I need something to imagine while fucking myself with my dildo tonight.” At my look, she shrugs. “What? You know I do it. You know you do it. It’s human nature, girlfriend.”
True dat.
So I tell her all the gory deets. I mean, all of them. No, I don’t hold back even on that part. What are best friends for, if not to brag about the absolute best night of sex known to humanity? As I’m telling her, I begin squirming with excitement, my panties growing wetter by the moment. God, I really want to replay that scene in the hallway with Apollo, except this time, I tackle him to the ground and fuck him right there.
Okay, maybe drag him into a broom closet and fuck him there. I don’t want all the girls to know how big his dick is or I’ll have to start using the brooms to beat them all off.
His dick is mine. And his tongue. And his pecs. And his glorious thighs.
But most especially his dick.
Finally, I can’t think of another amazeballs detail to add, and my coffee has grown cold and I don’t even care because I’m high on sex and fucking and Apollo’s magic 12-inch cock and so I dump it down the drain and we head back to our cubicles. Natalie’s telling me in great detail about everything that she was going to have to do with a cucumber that night when we realize that the open work area is quiet.
Way, way, way quiet.
I look up and everyone is staring, although thank god not at me.
John and Vicky are walking out of the conference—yes, the conference room—and there’s tears streaming down their faces as they go.
It hits me like a ton of bricks and all happiness is gone. My bubble has popped, again, and the soapy residue covering me is starting to get fucking old.
As they head to their desks to pack up their knickknacks and shit, Apollo walks out of the conference room, along with some other suits, and they head down the hall and he never looks over at me. He never looks at me and he’s walking away and my heart is breaking into a million little pieces.
12
Apollo
It’s Friday night and we’re at Nobu57, in the back at a private table. I’d hoped that after a week of stress and anger between us, I could wine and dine Ashley into fucking me again. My 12-inch cock hasn’t craved pussy like this in a long time, and hell, who am I to tell my cock no?
But Ashley is quiet and that just isn’t like her. I mean, this is a woman who’d talk to the toilet paper dispenser if there was no one else to talk to. She talks and laughs and fucks with abandon, and I’d say that it's one of her best qualities, but have you seen her ass?
It’s a close second though.
Tonight, I can’t get her to say shit, which is a good sign like my lawyer calling me at three in the morning is a good sign. She’s pushing her sushi around her plate, eating little and talking less, and I know it’s not the amazing food of Nobu57 that is causing the problem.
No, it’s me.
Well, me and the layoffs I’ve been implementing all week.
Doesn’t she know I have to? These were employees who’d been getting shit reviews for years, but no one at Blush seems to have a backbone and so despite the fact that they never showed up to work on time and their work was subpar, no one would fire them.
I’d looked up Ashley’s employee record on Monday morning. If I was going to have to fire her, I wanted to know right away.
And yeah, she’s not perfect. She seems to think that the start time for work is more of a suggestion, not a rule, and some of her articles are downright inane. But there’s flashes of real talent in some of them, and…well hell, her boss, Mr. Henningford, practically begs the women in his department to break the rules so he has a justification to pull them into his office and give them a tongue-lashing, all while drooling over their tits. From what I’ve been able to get out of the employees, he’s just the kind of guy who deserves to get fired. He’s gonna get his ass booted on Monday.
