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Chapter Eight
Most of the time, I did normal work things, such as getting to know my employees, holding meetings, writing reports, etc. I improved processes and pitched ideas. I wanted to bring value to this company, whose mission I was starting to empathize with.
That was most of the job. The other part was all Rob Michaels.
In meetings he was still an infuriating, cocky asshole, hell-bent on success at all costs. He never said anything to allude to our extracurricular activity.
In fact, everyone thought we hated each other, an illusion I was more than happy to contribute to, with my own snide comments. In public, he desperately needed to be brought down a peg, and I was happy to do it.
Then afterwards, at the end of the day, or over lunch, we'd go into his office or mine and attack each other's bodies. For several weeks, it was only oral, or the hands, once the feet, and each time I acted as if I didn't want to do again, while hoping we would.
I wondered why we never had penetrative sex. Whenever I tried to, he'd smoothly navigate me away and into a new realm of pleasure.
Then, after we'd orgasmed ourselves to exhaustion, we'd sit and talk. He was funny, and he wanted to know about me.
He told me things I was sure he'd never told anyone else, because I didn't find it on any of the many fan pages chronicling his life, or the million articles about him online. I figured, if it hadn't made its way into cyber space, I was the first to hear.
One such night, when we were drinking and watching the stars out of his massive window, I asked him several important questions, starting with, “Why have we never had sex?”
“If you think nothing we've done is sex, I've got to try harder,” he said wryly.
“If you try any harder I will literally explode. You know what I mean,” I said. I didn't want to sound too hurtful, in case the problem was very personal. It had been about two and half months now.
He sipped his drink. Still a black coffee, even at well past midnight.
Then he said, “I can't keep my hands off you. You're an asshole, and awkward as all hell, but you're the most real, smartest, most genuine woman I've ever met. I've met a lot of smart women, and a lot of sincere women, and a lot of funny women. But I've never met a woman who combines them all as well as you.”
I waited. This was very nice but didn't answer my question.
He finally said, “I can't resist touching you, being inside you somehow, but I don't want you to think I'm just trying to fuck you. I want to be with you, Amelia.”
“I thought you didn't get involved with employees,” I stammered.
He grinned to himself, but the kind of grin you do when a joint dislocates and you're trying to hide how much it hurts, “Yes, that was my rule. But, as soon as you came into that meeting all pissed off and hot, the very first day I met you, I knew I had to be near you. When you smacked me—”
“Smacked your drink,” I clarified.
“When you smacked my drink,” he smiled with less pain, “I knew I had to have you physically and mentally. Then you were in my office, beautiful, your beautiful legs, your gorgeous hair, and your deep frown of disapproval at my naked body. I planned to tease you and then ask you out to some exclusive locale you couldn't resist. I hoped. But then it turned out even better than I hoped.”
He smiled broadly, but then it disappeared. “I love this company more than I ever loved anyone. Now I find I'm willing to put it on the line—everything I have worked for—for some time with you. I'm a lunatic.”
As if to prove his point, he looked at me with his eyes crazed and gripped my hands in a fervor, “I know you understand my mission. That's why I'm so drawn to you, Amelia. You understand obsession with the universe. Not with people, or places, but with the entire universe.”
He worked himself up, nearly lathering, “This company stands for everything that is good about mankind. Our discovery, our pure desire to make ourselves —all of us, the entire species—fantastic. The desire to touch starlight and bring it back for our loved ones. That's what this is. You understand- this company was built to gather starlight; to propel mankind to be our best selves. I'd do anything for it.”
He was trying not to cry. I thought I might cry, too, because the way he gripped my hands felt desperate. I was the person, who could topple his dreams for humanity, and we both knew it, and he was begging me not to.
“Promise me,” he begged, “That you won't do anything to hurt the company. Leave me, beat me, mistreat me, do anything you want to me as a human and I will still love you and worship you and try to make you happier. But, don't crumble this place. Help me make it better. Help it survive past me.”
I felt his eyes burning into me like crashing meteors, disrupting my world forever.
“I promise,” I swore, and I meant it wholeheartedly.
He shut his eyes and breathed as if he'd been holding his breath for the last several minutes. He kissed my hands, then my arms, then nuzzled and kissed my neck. I kissed him back, hard, and with a revitalized fervor, threw him to the ground.
I made love to him that night, and told him I understood his mission. We fell asleep under the starlight, my vagina aching from pounding against his cock, my lips chapped from kissing, and my heart overflowing with love for this man and his legacy.
