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It’s a pair of Victoria’s Secret panties in the trashcan. Really expensive ones, at that.
And I know this because I own the same pair. But why is it in their office?
As we walk around the room, I sense something…off. I suddenly remember a movie I once saw about how people were replaced by robots. All the women did as told and never asked questions.
None of these people who work here have stopped Spencer to ask a single question. The entire place is like a well-oiled machine. It’s…really impressive.
I sigh and shake my head. I need to know why, but I don’t want to offend him.
“Spencer,” I begin, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I noticed…nobody here asks you guys any questions. Why?”
Spencer shrugs. He’s playing on his phone, but he stops for a moment to look around the office.
“They don’t need to ask questions. We make sure they have everything they need, and each one of them has gone through an extensive training program when hired.”
That was the first time Spencer sounded like a professional, like he was actually focused on the work around him.
I know his beach resort does well financially, but he’s so laid-back and relaxed, unlike most successful business owners I know, that it’s hard to believe. He’s especially unlike me.
I spend most of my days worrying about how I can make my business succeed that I don’t have time to be like Spencer—so easy going and confident that the world will take care of me. That’s a fairytale that the man next to me seems to live in.
I also can’t help wondering how all four of them work so well together. They’re all so different.
The one thing I have noticed so far is that each one makes me hotter than the next. My pussy tingles each time I walk into a new office. I’ve never had this happen to me in the past.
For now, I’ll accept what he says, but I still have more questions for him about the dynamics of this place.
“So, I understand that they’re all well-trained, but do they approach you or the others when they need something? What happens when a client complains about the service at a resort? Who handles that?”
“We have people for that,” Spencer simply says.
We stop at the employee lounge. Several employees come and go, but none of them are social with us beyond a friendly hello here and there.
“Coffee?” Spencer asks, handing me a cup.
I need something, but I’m not sure it’s coffee. I’ve spent almost the entire day with this incredibly handsome man, and I can’t help being a little turned on—or maybe more than a little.
I pour myself a cup of Kona brew and add a dash of cream. Usually, I take it black, but I need a little sweetness this time of day.
Spencer grabs a bottle of vitamin water from the fridge and chugs the dark pink fluid all at once.
He reminds me of the kind of man you could spend the day with at an amusement park. He would be more comfortable on a ride at Disney World than eating a five-star meal and seeing an opera.
There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s different from what I’m used to.
“So, what else do you have planned for me, or do you think Killian is ready to see us?” I ask.
Spencer checks his phone, then shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m going to show you the company gym. It’s on the next floor up.”
I shrug, not sure why I would need to see this, but I want to find out everything that makes this place tick.
A short elevator ride to the next floor takes us directly to the fitness center. The moment the doors open, my jaw drops.
Both women and men are working out, but the one thing I notice is that they’re all flawless. None of them are a pound overweight, and they’re all wonderfully tan.
For people who sit at a desk all day, this is unbelievable.
“Does this cost them anything, or do you cover all this in their health insurance plan?” I ask, frowning.
Spencer picks up a few free weights, effortlessly lifting them as I speak. It’s driving me crazy, the way he flexes his muscles. His hands grip the solid iron pieces tightly, each of them larger than my head.
My panties are soaking wet.
“Babe, look around here. All these people love working here because we take good care of them. Seriously, have you seen anyone not smiling? We include all this because we want them to keep working here and to be happy,” he says, dropping the weight back to the floor.
I can’t deny that they have something here, but I wonder how they all keep their hands off each other.
These men are the kind you would see walking the runway in Milan, and the women—they look more like movie stars than travel agents. I’m in complete awe of what I see here.
